Cobbled streets bathed in the sultry evening lights of orange gaslight, the Dodgy End, Winter would have rather have avoided this. The high-built apartment blocks bellowed with the loud voices of loots, instruments, and good cheer. Jubilance filled the air; people maneuvered to and fro, filling the already claustrophobic streets and pressing ever closer to the darkness of alleyways. Stray animals run and trip amongst the participants. Winter watches as one of the drunken men takes a spill by canine thievery, the sausage dangling from its mouth pilfered from the man's pocket.
How she hated this, these people, London was filled with those who just couldn't understand. Piercing blue eyes gazed and watched over the crowds from a street's edge. Removed from those she inspected, the Watcher Schnee stuck out a sore thumb amongst them. Her uniform not like the tatters and wire-like fabrics she was surrounded by. Dark blues are interwoven with a white sheen, silver threads dangled from her chest to back, a mark of pride. Denoting the Schnee with a considerable rank, not that these people would recognize it. The weapons at her hips made it evident she was not one to be trifled with. Even the drunkest of the lot were steering clear from her gaze.
She had earned a reputation here. The White Shadow, the Season's Frost, Winter was chosen to skulk the direst of streets. For London needed people like her. To slip in and amongst the sheep and find the wolf among them.
Monsters, they crept, growled and snarled. Vicious and deadly, and they prayed on all of Britain. It just so happened that London was becoming open season this time of year. The strum of strings and cheers of pubs, those two things drew the morose out from their hiding places.
Ever vigilant, Winter watched, the noise and chaos about her feeding into her intuition. Something was here. She just had to wait and see.
Blaring music, the heavy breathing, the sweat, the banging of hearts against ribs! It was euphoria for one such as Cinder. It took her every ounce of restraint from not soiling the evening amongst the streets. For her, more cardinal lusts could not be exposed so soon.
The bed shook, rocked and bent. Wood splintering as the bodies atop it quaked. Dull casting light illuminated the deep and brutal scarring of the feminine frame's back which rode astride the other. The which laid body beneath wriggled and writhed, her hand gripped over a pompously manicured mustache. Ebbing gasps of flailed limbs shook and slapped her back. The dull cast lights poured into the bedroom, casting an even more terrifying look to the meat beneath her.
Fangs withdrew only when the body ceased. The plush and red face she had absconded from its barstool now matched the stained white sheets beneath them. Her emboldened yellow eyes shone with brilliant delight, her breath catching as the red ambrosia poured down her throat and front. Pale and spry, a finger drug across her naked chest, capturing some of that red ilk. Lapping it from her finger like a starving animal. Some of it caught in her long mane of ashen hair, to which she pulled.
Another one is sorted. Cinder would have to answer for the tab of this beast, perhaps that once he had his way with the tramp. He had departed. "How ungentlemanly, sir." Cinder breathed low, her voice musical, slapping the empty husk's chest before leaving her perch. Garters and garments of black string clutched her lithe form, pressing some bits of her more to the eye.
Marking her fourth of the night with the gentle light of vanity, the reflection of Cinder's form was nonexistent in the furnishing. Slipping past, her hand dragging across her face to make sure of her meal's completion, Cinder slunk down to the floor. Snatching up her ensemble. Red lace drifted seductively over her. She had to make sure that this dark silk would conceal the lapsed crumbs of her feast. Matching that with the ease to which she could slip in and out of it. One would think the master of the Dodgy End had done this for years.
The Schnee grew wary, something about the mood, the setting. The lighting was supposed to be warm with the strung lights of bars, and flame was growing even colder in the night. For a spring evening, too, the chill was immense.
A hunter never forgets that feeling, the approach of the morose.
Slunk in the roars of laughter, the bits of meat, and the nectar of liquor, the loud imperial clicking of heels drew the Schnee's attention. Winter's piercing glare, not ten steps from her corner across the road, exiting the bar she had reported to. That was where that all emboldened sense of purpose clicked. In the hazy yellow light, the blundering darkness, that red gown swept over rock.
Winter's teeth bared at the corner of her mouth, Cinder's figure making her remove herself from the post to which she had leaned. Cinder's self-indulging smile, she was barely trying to hide those teeth or that blood from Winter. Storming across the road, Cinder's frame taller than Winter's by mere inches, damned those heels the temptress bore.
Cinder's seductive smile pushed the Watcher to meet her partway, the street around them filled and bustling with people. Winter's finger drove into the pale woman's chest, the sounds of her uniform clinking as she did so. "You said-" Winter barely got out before Cinder's silk-like hands gripped her colour. Cinder's painted red lips gripping Winter's own in a violent passion, snuffing the oxygen of Winter in one swift stroke. The finger in Cinder's chest falling weakly to the beautiful woman's shoulder.
Just as Winter's own enjoyment rose, Cinder parted the two, though she kept their bodies pressed close. Burning balls of fire smiled mockingly down at her, "Hello to you too, dear Watcher. Found any dogs this evening?" Cinder's tongue danced over her lips. The act drew a snivelling tch from Winter. "No, if you must know-." She shook her head, pressing the two of them apart. "Don't change the subject, Fall," Winter growled. The Schnee's rebuke loud enough for herself to hear, though she knew Cinder could listen to any low borne passage in this street as clear as day.
As Winter tried to impart her original statement, Cinder's smirk only emboldened a glowing redness in the Watcher's cheek. "You said you would stick to the West End." Winter's gloved finger jabbing into Cinder's center met with surprising resistance from the woman's core. A low-blown chuckle met Winter, Cinder looking aside to the freakish crowds as she spoke. "I did, then your people called for a night of celebration in the east end." She turned back to Winter with a glinting smile, "And I'd hate to disappoint good Sir Ironwood by missing a night of celebration."
The turn of Cinder's blackened hair, seeping down the low cut of her dress, the lighting of gold crossing her form. Cursed be this temptress, Winter thought, sucking in a seething sigh. "How many tonight?" The question formed in a biting manner, though it left her mouth in a quizzical concern. "I ate well enough, but the night is young, dear." Cinder smiled, the looseness of her accent prodding gently through her veneer. "How many, Cinder?"
The faux of the red-clothed woman fell. An omission of sadness gripped her face. The musical end of her voice crept through. "You want me to starve? Is that it? And here I thought that you spared me for lo-." Winter's hand moved fast to the woman's mouth, gripping it with a hiss of her own. "Quiet, devil! You don't know who is listening." Dropping from Cinder's now sneering smile, Winter took up Cinder's arm. Interlocking it with her own, "Oh, how debonair."
Sunken noises of violins and poppers music rushed through the street, overlaying the visual of the Watcher and the Temptress. Onlookers cheered, clapped, hissed and barked. Gay with jealousy for likely both of the fine women. Though the glare surmounted on Winter's face scarred many of them off. "What a lovely evening for a bound escort, love." Cinder mused into Winter's ear, the fangs of her smile loosely hidden. Winter's hairs stood on end as the soft hiss of Cinder entered her ear, "I would love to see your estate, care to take me?"
Dreariness clawed at her skull. Some would be fretful of letting such a master of the night so close to them. Lest the monster would use her seductive lulls to encapture one's free will. Though for Winter, and much of the Watchers at large, these common tricks of the deprived would not work.
Instead, Winter merely turned her head to Cinder, the pair walking onward as she sneered. "The Schnee estate is a place of coveted halls; by no means shall you ever again enter them." Ever quick and vilely wicked, Cinder's tongue once more draped over her lips, "How you know I'd covet your halls, but..." Cinder sighed, shaking her head. "I grow faint, darling." Cinder's hand draped across her brow. The exaggeration made Winter spit. "Fine." The snow-haired woman turning their direction roughly toward an alley.
Light and song seemed so distant in the dirty underbelly, rats and trash cluttered the pathway. Winter's off-hand rested on her pistol as she stalked arm in arm with the beast. Cinder's smile bloomed in the dark, cloaked by burning eyes of desire. They continued to look Winter's form up and down even as they moved. "Stop that." The Schnee hummed, snidely biting as she looked over another of the alley's ends. A chipper and lustful response brought their forms closer together through Cinder's musing. "Can a lady not delight in the protectiveness of her entourage?"
Groaning emanated from Winter as she drew them to a stop, figuring this the most secluded part of their march. "I am not your entourage." Removing her gloves, Winter coughed out at the chill, Cinder's smile only growing emboldened. Watching as those thin fingers danced over her collar, high and protective, no self-respecting Vampire would think one of the Watchers would make this so easy. "Oh yes, you're not my entourage, are you?" Cinder chuckled, watching the straps and strings come undone.
The lase spilled long from the clothing, Winter wincing as she undid buttons and straps before pausing at the woman's voice. Winter thought for a moment, her sword crossing her mind as Cinder's fangs entirely barred and those pools of fire burned with lust. Sighing and dropping her head back into the brick wall behind her, Winter unveiled her nape to the beast.
Cinder's voice sang proudly amongst the rising music so far away, "But you, dear Watcher, are mine." Two small divots of barely healed skin presented themselves so succulently from Winter fitted perfectly for the orgasmic bite of Cinder's fangs.
The pitch-black alleyway filled with the subtle breaths and squeaks of Winter, clutching desperately to the monster, Cinder, she loved.