You've Got the Heart of a Leo
The Boy Who Swallowed the Sun
It'd been a bit since he'd had a drink worth taking. The piss poor quality of the bootlegged goods produced at the camp was like drinking spiked water. Disgusting, and even lacking the potency to inebriate. Needless to say, he would call the gang's attempt at hooch a failure. Sobriety lead to sharper senses, yes, but even those of late he wished to have buried and forgotten. That smoldering burn at the back of his throat grew in intensity until it felt as if he'd swallowed hot coals. Certainty followed the thought that his mouth was split like dried earth after a merciless drought, no matter how much water he downed it wouldn't slake this hellish thirst. He swore he could drown and still be ablaze.

Regardless, he had found himself drawing the short straw. It was his turn to bring supplies in exchange for goods his... comrades were in need of. None of them intended to answer this demanding draft - others a far cry from his own reason. He'd once attempted to join their ranks. To be a good and honorable man, yet they'd nearly spit in his face. They may as well have. He was a young homeless whelp. Starving, fit for a militia, but not the main force of a military, not something that would put coin in his pocket and warm clothes on his back for the grueling winter. If they wouldn't accept him then, the bastards were daft to think he would give them the time of day now.

His thoughts were scattered, his stare cutting sharply to the door of his destination. It was like a sixth sense, this intuitive feeling of magic. He could nearly hear it, like a nail sharply filing down the strings of a harp. The woman's shop often served as a safe house, and it was she he had intended to do business with. Pushing open the door, he found her, still standing behind the counter, her arm outstretched in gesture as her eyes seemed hazy and unfocused. His sights would follow, already knowing what she pointed to, and yet, it was not the guard of Vufrien she had sold the secret bunker out to, but rather a trespasser as well.

Because no one who belonged in this side of the continent could use such magic.

His gaze hardened, soft, attentive blues reflecting not the ocean, but the cruelty of the ice that sealed it. The pommel of his father's blade was beyond comfortable in his hand, the chosen of his two weapons for this particular encounter. For only it was well equipped to dispatch of parasites. Measured footsteps lead him to the top of the stairs, ruthless attention fixated upon the stranger that graced them. The eager point of the sword's tip would attempt to hover in the vacinity of the man's throat should he turn. "Well, friend, you're a long way from home."

You've Got the Heart of a Leo
The Boy Who Swallowed the Sun

"I'm well aware!" Auburn brow would quirk upwards as the stranger flung his arms upwards before whirling, seeming not to register the obvious threat of the blade at his throat, pressing it aside with the tip of his finger despite the sear. Lif's expression would turn droll as the vampire would further dismiss his action, "Mind where you point that thing.  Might hurt someone, y'know." The edges of his mouth would slightly turn down though his stare remained in a deadpan issue of disbelief, lowering the sword but not sheathing it. "Well, hoss, that was kinda the point." The intonation within his vocals was just another echo of what his flat eyes already relayed.

In spite of the circumstances, he found the stranger brushing by him, frustrated, flustered, but not seething violence. He clicked his tongue as the other fixed him with ruby, fire and water clashing easily as Lif met his attention. "As I was saying," as if the hunter had interrupted some granduer speech, or as if they had been mid conversation to begin with, he picked up the torch of his gripes. "I was trying to find this bastard that killed a bunch of people.  Nice bounty on him, by the way." His face darkened in immediate regard. His spine stiffened minutely as his fingers slowly flexed around the pommel of the blade, the leather feeling red hot within his grasp.

People? Or parasites, he had to wonder. In a way, he supposed he could fit either bill, and he was certain that by now those of Lavalles were sore for his head or for him to be in chains, whichever came to them on a platter first. Before he could respond, however, the reason for his unsavory companion being so put out was revealed: "Turns out he's fled to Shanton.  Shanton!  Just came from that shit hole.  I'll be damned though if I return empty-handed." Well, he certainly wasn't searching for him then, and Lif had no intention of spilling blood here unless his hand was forced to retaliate. He was also a wanted face in Vufrien now as well, much to his dismay, and despite the fact he would be trying to dispose of one of the nation's enemies, he doubted that the bloodhounds the scent would bring would be so keen as to allow him to walk away from the ordeal. The dagger would whistle through the air once more before being snatched within what seemed to be a very familiar hand, briefly reflecting Lif's impassive, wary stare back at himself. Fitting, he almost loved the irony of the words from his mother's new husband. A worthless low-life that would amount to nothing, just like his father. He supposed despite wanting to prove the asshole wrong, all he'd done was reaffirm his sentiments after all. "Know of a place with good booze?"

He blinked, eyes retracing to the stranger sharply as he swallowed hard. Was it guilt? This ugly writhing like maggots in his gut? No, his hands were always so steady, his thoughts sharp and clear. It wasn't regret, at least he didn't think so. Again, the corners of his lips would slope downward as he shrugged briefly, allowing the sword to rest within its home once more. However, the superficial expression was quickly replaced by a boyish smirk with an accent of teeth. "In Shanton?" He inquired, leaning against the doorway into the basement and crossing his arms. "I know a place, bout to leave town myself." Almost as if on queue, there would rise a commotion out in the main street outside the store front. "Come out, Lif! We know you're in there!" The familiar voice of an old friend rang with the accent of armor. A man of the city guard now, honestly, he almost sounded sorry. Perhaps all the favors and letting his pal 'slip' between his fingers had caught up with him - after all, his superior wasn't completely stupid.

Attention cut between the stranger and the shop keep. He had been careful, immaculate, even. No one had seen him. Glower would settle wholly upon the woman, still dazed and teetering idly with vacant expression. She'd set him up. She had mentioned last time that she had wanted a bigger cut of their profits as she was no longer satisfied, but he'd never thought of her actually turning them in. A sharp sound of disapproval left him as he cleared the distance in a few quick strides, hooded gaze peering out the window to find a hefty number of soldiers outside. A tick worked in his jaw before his tongue ran over his teeth in brief contemplation. His hands were still steady after all. "Alright, friend, looks like we have some unwanted company, and I've gotta leave a little sooner than planned. Escape on your own, or follow me for that drink." His tone was matter of fact, his features nullifying as he drew the sword and the edge bit cleanly through the harlot's throat. It was the first sign of life he'd seen from her on this visit as heavy lids widened to reveal shrinking pupils. A liability he couldn't chance now as he had turned back towards the basement, taking the steps two at a time as he made way towards the secret tunnel that only she and his ilk knew of.

Clearing the last step and reaching the door, regardless if the vampire was on his heels or not, he would place a hand on the wooden beam that stood as support, allowing the manifesting flames to greedily lick at the timbers until it was wholly engulfed, shutting the door behind him as he made his escape into the secret tunnel.

His hands were still steady, but gods were they filthy.