[Sodium_noir] Babylon Bordello

[SN Storyteller]

Chaste Dragon [outside]
Dhampir,Mage,others
Tellos, Panic,others
around 1:45am maybe 2am latest
  
Before he even had a chance to swear he heard the vioce of his beast. But where the vampires was more pure brutality his seeped out in a voice. It flooded his mind with images of violance and his mind with sounds of the same while mixing with images of his past taking the images from a year ago of his sluaghtered family and the monsters who killed them. He tried to will the beast down and force it back as it tried to break the chains he had placed upon it. Why was this happening?  He didint care he wasint gonna let it control his life.He tries to push on and get to the door and enter. He slips on a step but catches himself before he finaly gets footing once more and tries to push on.
 
The journey to the door of the motel feels as though it takes forever. But when he looks up at it, expecting it to be withing his grasp, he finds it shimmers and appears to be further away than ever. The last step is still before him and a complete dread fills his very fibre at the thought of touching it. Nothing but the most extreme exercising of his will (a Willpower point) could make him place a foot or hand on that uppermost step. 

Suddenly a though breaks through his inner battle. He senses something. something he had been sensing since he first arrived here but had ignored. The new sensation he relalized was a gift of his altered pysionimy. He was sensing something of the Hidden world. 

It was almost like a smell. A smell of naked sweaty flesh and blood and cum. The smell of his Mothers milk and of her enfolding arms. The scent of his conception.

It was almost like a touch. warm undulating tenderness mixed with unseen nails scraping down his back. But the most certaion feeling was the sensation of ghostly hands around his neck.

He heard a screech owl in the night. But not this night. Only an echo of the first night when Eden still stood. 

Slowly implanted instincts and data organised itself. This was still a sharp learning curve for the little Dhampyr and he had to focus on what the Fallen Angel had put inside of him. What it had given him as a means to recognise others touched by Hell. This was what he sensed now, beneath the pwoerful wards and magics keeping him from the door was the taint of damnation. 

The taint of something old and powerful and feminine. Someone betrayed by men of Biblical renown. 

And the taint was coming closer ...

[Tag]

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