Description: After taking a beating from Ayane, Michael winds up in a desolate cemetery at night... However Echo is also there.
When life hands you lemons, normally one would be say 'You make lemonade!'
That saying is pretty much as full of it as it can get. When life hands you lemons, you bite down on that thing and prepare yourself because everything is about to get far worse from there. Life's just trying to give you something to keep you from biting your own tongue off.
Recently, a certain blonde American ninja realized this as he not only got kicked around and stabbed numerous times by another shinobi, they even had the audacity to kidnap him and torture him for information.
This is why you bite down on that lemon.
Having finally found himself released from his kidnappers grasp, Michael does what any other self-respecting person would do. Run the hell away and find someplace to hide for as long as possible to recover.
Bleeding still like a stuck pig, Michael had traveled south from Cleveland, wandering through the cornfields of Central Ohio until he found himself in a rather large cemetary. Skillfully picking the locks of one of the many crypts that seem to litter this place, the blonde American ninja moves deeper in. Maybe at least he can bandage his own wounds, and possibly not bleed out. Ayame only patched him up to keep him alive. Nothing was ever said about actually allowing him to heal up.
The cemetery at night was indeed a lonely place. Especially in a town like this. What had the sign said on the way in said...? Marian? They named it after the fox bimbo in the Robin Hood cartoon? These humans, she swore. Despite the scent of blood in the wind, which could be sensed fairly easily--vampire bat and all, it came with the territory--the bat this evening is preoccupied with other matters. She doesn't notice.
Currently, she squatted down next to the black yawning pit of a still open grave, one that had recently been dug up and exhumed for some purpose or another. DNA testing results, perhaps? It meant she didn't need to go digging herself, and the disturbance wouldn't be noticed. A prime opportunity.
A handful of cold dirt was held in a white-furred palm, the chiropteran woman holding up what looked like a snowglobe, motes or flecks of some substance whirling inside it. She shook it once as ghostly wisps rose from the soil in her hand, soon after she grew fed up of waiting and let the soil fall through her fingers. Returning the glass object to a gunny sack made from some strange fur that hung about her waist, she reached down and collected a new handful, stowing /that/ in an empty black film canister and capping it shut, that too went into her bag.
"Guess there really is no telling where she sleeps, ah well, sleep well for now, dear Spangles," she rose from the edge of the grave, her divination unsuccessful, but not a total waste. Of course, by the light of the moon, the humanoid bat lady in her black dress and wings was not exactly well hidden--especially in a graveyard, which eschewed the hex she used to disguise herself. Instead of a pale human lady with long black hair, Michaal might catch a glimpse of her as she really was, heading off between the tombs.
Ghosts, Yokai, Demons. They're all standard fare for Ninja to be careful when dealing with. Generally there are seals and talismans meant for combatting those forces, yet when you're not only on the run from your clan, you never payed attention to those lessons?
The words are uttered rather loudly as the ghostly image of a bat-woman appears as the soft moonlight strikes the woman when she steps from the shadows. But as the surprise of the figure moving from between the tombs unsettles Michael, a loud thud echoes out from the shadows as the blonde man slaps his forehead.
Rule #1 of being a Ninja: You are the shadows.
Recently, this rule has been rather flexible for the young man. That is until the Mugen Tenshin Shinobi Ayane beat the ever living crap out of him and managed to give him a good number of piercings that will take a fair amount of time to heal up. Wincing loudly, Michael attempts to move further into the shadows to hide. One can never be too careful in a dark cemetary at night.
The sound of his voice and the slap against his forehead wouldn't be unnoticed, however--was just too hard to ignore. While she normally wouldn't be too surprised at someone saying something like that out here--given the context, middle of the night, graveyard, and someone quite possibly half in the wrapper running into someone unexpectedly... The scent of the blood /had/ gotten her attention. Curiouser and curiouser. This got more interesting. Had she stumbled onto some kind of gang violence, a mugging? Bit too far north for a cartel slaying, at any rate.
"Need a band-aid there, honey?" the soft feminine voice came up out of the darkness as Michael limped off into the dark, a shaft of moonlight illuminating the bat lady now, stretched out and posed on her side, just laying atop one of the white marble tombs. It was one of the long and flat box-like ones, ridges carved into the sides around the rim and base. Likely just big enough to house the casket inside--and here was Echo, one hand supporting her head and turned toward him, in imagery that might bring to life Elvira, (especially in that black dress...) or maybe a pin-up picture. As wild abd obscene as a parody of such a thing with a grave marker could be, anyway. Her yellow eyes seemed to glisten in the moonlight, sniffing at the air.
"Cut yourself shaving? old lady take a meat cleaver to ya? What a fun way to spend the evening, am I right?~" her tone however is less concerned and more casual, even joking.
As the woman's true form is revealed under the moonlight, it's enough to give the fleeing ninja a good pause. Though how she managed to get infront of him and posistion herself on one of the marble tombs is enough to actually give Michael a bit of a scare. His pulse quickens slightly, causing some of the more serious wounds on his body to re-saturate the torn clothing that covers his body.
Even though he is a bit woozy from the bloodloss, Michael is still coherent enough to back away slightly from the bat-woman. That is until he backs into an older gravestone that causes him to lose his balance entirely.
The words are cut short as the ninja falls backwards, landing upon the hallowed ground with a nasty thud. The scent of blood becomes stronger now, as he's obviously aggrivated some of the lesser wounds as well.
"....Screw it... If you have any band-aids, yeah... I can use some..." There comes a point where no matter how hard you bite down on that lemon life has given you, that its just going to be worthless and you have to accept your fate.
"What's the matter, you never seen a girl before, dear?" Echo raised a brow, then frowned--tilting her head a little bit, the large bat ears on her taking in the sound of the man's beleaguered breath and the extent of her injuries.
"Ohoho, I see, most people are about as supernatural sensitive as a sack of hammers, but we /are/ in a graveyard, on a nearly full moon," Echo sighed, pulling herself up from her lounging pose on the slab and hiked herself down, sitting on the edge with her legs dangling over the edge. As she stretched her legs out to move to the ground, he'd notice the blood red heels she was wearing. Combined with the dress, the figure she cut was quite va-va-voom. She wouldn't have it any other way.
"No bandages here alas, man-cub, at least not any like that," she grinned a little, taking a step towards him, peering at his wounds.
"What happened, old lady throw you out?" she reached into one of the pouches on her belt, right next to what seemed to be the bleached skull of some small indeterminate animal.
"What's your name, kiddo? I'm Echo, probably the first bat you've seen around--unless you've already seen that..." she put her hands out around her hips, as if to emphasize them. She probably meant Morrigan, thanks to the exaggerated hip sway she performed.
She had what appeared to be a roll of cloth and a round metal disk with the lettering "Plasto" on it, some kind of sticking plaster, or wax?
"Type O, or maybe B Positive...?" she inquired randomly.
As he's questioned about the nature of his wounds, the American Ninja waves dismissively. "Nothin' like that. Don't have an ol' lady..." It's obvious he's woozy, however if its from bloodloss or sheer exhaustion is an entirely different question.
The words are soft as the young blonde man closes his eyes to stop the world from spinning. He hasn't quite had an easy enough time as of late, and being used as a knife block by an insane angry kunoichi is really a proverbial cherry on the top of it all.
Slowly he pulls himself up and crawls to pull himself up against a larger grave stone, opening his eyes again as the bat starts randomly saying blood-types. He then notices the canister in her hands, only to softly reply to her once more, "Type O."
"Well then you're in luck, I'm Echo, dear," that's about all the bat gives the man on her identity, it's about as much as she's given other people, anyway. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them--and further, protected them. This was obvious even in her world.
"Ooh, you're dizzy, dear--that's definitely some bloodloss, I almost hope this wasn't done by your old lady, hah--" Echo quits snarking long enough to begin binding the man's injuries with the strip of linen cloth she had, what of it she had--if she needed more she tore at Michael's sleeves. The smaller wounds she'd give a coat with the mortician's wax. It was sort of like a bandage--men used stuff like that for shaving nicks back in the day, but some of Michael's wounds left by Ayane there were not going to cut it, since they were too wide.
"Well, that's sorta better," Echo peered at the bandages she'd wrapped onto him and tied, "Not restricting any blood flow, are they? that's usually bad on the living, I realize," Echo was a Necromancer, damnit--not a nurse!
"Haven't slept in a few days." Yawning loudly, Michael looks down at his body, doing his absolute best to remain still lest he cause things to start dumping out the precious presious life-candies that course through his veins.
Of course, now that Echo has gotten closer to him, the blonde man is able to actually get a better look at her. Of course, there's a strange compulsion once he actually gets a really good look at the bat-woman. His hands rise upwards, gently grasping the soft-furred ears upon the poor woman's head.
Gently his hands massage them, running the length of them only to gently fold the tips between his fingers. "Huh. They are real. And soft." The touching continues for a few moments until Michael realises just what in the world he's doing, and just how freakin' rude it is, especially considering the nice lady did help patch him up again.
"Well, safest place to be, babe. Everyone here is already dead, except you and me, that is," Echo put her hands on her hips, looking down at the man. When the man reaches out at her, she isn't sure what to expect--did she look like a cat to him? One might think given her nose, or the ears, if they were not seeing them right--like he probably isn't right now.
"Hey, hey--what're you doing--" Echo sounds like she's protesting at first, however as he's mainly just brushing his fingers over the furred parts of her ears, and less the ribbed lining of them, it feels... kinda nice.
"Well, gee, thanks there, honey--I have been touched," she gives the man a cheeky raspberry, briefly, before trying to lean back. Stupid head pats and ear rubs!
A look of abject horror rests now upon Michael's face as the realization that he just did something absolutely rude and offenseive fully starts to sink in. "Oh god, I'm so sorry." Slowly but surely the young man's face begins to change color until its red enough to be considered a stop-light for a dark street. Most people would assume this to be unhealthy, especially when one is suffering from blood-loss.
"Thank you for the bandages Miss... uh... Echo, right?"
It does take him a few moments to try and remember the name she only just moments ago told him. However once she leans back, he finally gets a chance to really take a look at the rest of her. It's obvious that with how she's dressed, most people would be drooling like dogs with a t-bone.
Unfortunately for Michael, rapid movement of blood in one's body when dealing with bloodloss is an unfortunate thing. He opens his mouth to speak, only to slump forward towards the bat-girl, planting his face right into her chest. He just doesn't have the strength right now to force himself away, so all he can do is offer a rather mumbled "I'm sorry."
"That's right--and don't worry about it, hon, people uh, do that to me all the time," Echo waves it off. They most assuredly do not, nor does she usually let people just fondle her freaking ears, but she doesn't tell him that. Nor does she usually let people touch her ears, but she's ignoring that too.
Then, Michael faceplants. Into her bosom.
"Woah--hey, you alright ther--" she starts to speak, but winds up with him motorboating her. Well, this just got awkward.
"Well, just like a man, you meet 'em, try to do something nice," Echo reaches down to grab the man by his sides, and heft him upward. She's not super strong, by any means--and it's actual effort for her to haul Michael up to the headstone, sitting him at the base of it, winding up huffing and puffing after.
"And they up and die on ya," she sighed, looking down at him, before taking her middle and index finger of her right hand and pressing it to the carotid artery beneath the man's jaw. She felt for a moment and then seemed concerned. After a moment there was what might have sounded like a flag being whipped by a strong breeze--actually the sound of leathern wings as Echo drew herself up to a high enough height.
"Hello yes, can you send an uber out to the Marian Cemetery?? Yeah, it's uh--near the entrance to the Merchant Ball? Hello?!?"
It would take a while, but Echo would eventually get the boy to some help.
Log created on 23:39:57 04/24/2019 by Echo, and last modified on 03:52:39 04/29/2019.