my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear | open-log

[slayerskiss]

Who: Faith Lehane & You!
What: Faith has mommy issues, turns into a succubus, gets a bit violent and then also hungry and horny.
When: May!
Where: Around!

Content Warnings: Grief, references to death of a family member, childhood neglect and abuse, alcoholism, hypersexuality, possible nsfw, monsterfucking, pseudo cannibalism.



I. MAMA, WE ALL GO TO HELL.
(May 8th.)

[It's mother's day, three o'clock in the morning, and Faith is at the cemetary. Which really just goes to show the miserable bitterness that wells up inside her every single time this day comes around. It's been... two years now. No, three. This bitterness doesn't stop welling up in her chest.

Her presence in the cemetary is likely only noticed due to the fact that she put a bullet through the head of an undead spectre that crawled its way out from the guard. It was a magic bullet. Works like a charm. There's a satisfied hum coming from her. If anyone else is here, she tries not to notice. She walks her way to the furthest corner of the graveyard and clears a spot in the dirt. She reaches into her coat and pulls out a bottle of vodka, shakes it up a bit and drops it in the clearing.]

Nightwalker said it'd help to pretend I was talking to you. For some reason. So I gave you your favourite to represent you. You're welcome. Not sure they even have booze in hell. You must be hating it.

You remember when I was eight? That was a year after you came and picked me up from your asshole relatives. This time, that year, it was mother's day. Your first and my first, and I guess I was excited 'cuz I'd never had a mom before, and I kept telling Alex, or Malice, whatever you wanna call her now. I kept telling her you were coming back for me, and I guess I stopped believing it was true until you actually did.

The day comes, and the night before you binge drank and got super wasted and got in a fight with our "roommate" at the time, who left the next morning never to be seen again. So you're hungover, miserable, ashamed, and really not feelin' it, right? But I wanna take you to ice cream, 'cuz I'd saved up enough money for it from stealing shit from the other kids at school. I only had like five bucks, but I figured that'd be enough for the both of us. Not like grandma ever took me.

You're hungover, and hating it, and hating that I'm making you do this, and hating me for bothering you when you really just wanna lay in a corner and die. But at that point, you still pretended. So I asked you how yours was, that you had to pay for because it turned out five bucks was only enough for mine. [She pauses, glancing upwards.] No, that's right. I paid for yours, you got one scoop, you paid for mine, I got three. God.

Anyway. I ask you how it is. And you smile. And you tell me it's lovely. And you thank me, and tell me you love me. [Her voice falters here and something bubbles up in her eyes and she realizes she's crying, just a little. Well, maybe more than a little.] So when I try to remember all the good moments we had, before you... before you fucking died. Why is it that it's just that that I remember? That one bitter memory where I don't even know if you were lying.

Did you even tell me you loved me? Or did I just imagine that like I imagined having a friend? [Faith wipes her eyes, smudging her makeup a bit. She lets out a sigh, shuddering. It's cold.] Anyway. That was my eulogy for the funeral you never had, mom.

Enjoy the vodka, mom. [She stands up, rolling the bottle over with her foot for a bit, before stomping it and shattering the glass into the dirt, leaving the ground wet with running liquid.] You always loved it more than you loved me.

That didn't help at all.[And with that, she turns away from the makeshift grave and walks away, staring at the ground. If anyone was listening, she'll glare briefly but do nothing else herself, not unless prompted.]

II. SHE WILL ALWAYS BE A BROKEN GIRL.
(May 10th.)

[Come the morning and Faith is... changed. She only notices when getting out from her sleeping position, which is less a bed (too comfortable) and more well, the couch. She gets up and almost immediately, her wings start getting caught on the cushions.

She finds a mirror, and comes face to face with the sight of what she's become. A succubus, with hair that's even longer and thinner, sharp teeth like a thousand knives in her maw, a forked tongue that extends frankly a bit uncomfortably long, and a long tail that coils up to her chin, moving like another arm.

And wings. Leathery bat wings. There's a lot of ways she can react to this. And she definitely does a lot of freaking out in the privacy of her own house, but by the time it's her favoured time of day, aka night, she tends to be less ashamed.

She can be spotted flying across Trench, and might drop on a rooftop near you and grin down at you. She is, notably, still not wearing much in the way of clothes. You try finding something that fits three new limbs. And there's an aura around her that attracts the attention of people around her, whether that's just because she's hot remains to be seen, but regardless she's hard to miss.

Or, later at night she'll be seen around the clubs, dancing and partying and flirting with just about anyone. At this stage, the demonic appearance is... lessened. Her face could pass for human, if it weren't for the horns. She wants to be wanted, to be craved. She's addicted to the sensation. She doesn't cover the monster, not much, just... well. She might as well be pretty.

Or alternatively, she might be at Sapphora. A bit more thoughtful, her tail flickers nervously as she stares at the staircase leading to the higher floors, sipping at her drink with a nervous chatter to her teeth. This physical form is still... confusing. She's not sure where exactly she got a glass of darkblood, but she's not exactly complaining. It's... delicious. Is this what it was like for all the vampires she killed? She feels bolder, stronger.

But still too weak to go upstairs and acknowledge the elephant in the room.]

III. TONGUES & TEETH
(May 15th.)

[She's back to normal for now, and one night she goes on a trip into the Trenchwood. She's itching, all over her body, it's like a siren call to anger, to violence, to the hunt. She disappears off the path at some point, but you might hear the faint cackle of her laughter.

If someone were to go and investigate, they'd find her standing over a beast. An ugly thing with long limbs and milky white skin and needle-like fingers, human looking, with a pinched up wrinkled face, all growls and hisses and whines. It still begs. It still pleads. Or maybe that's just what she's looking for.

There's a person in there, or there was once, and Faith is a Slayer. There's people in vampires, people who could be saved, people who were victims once. Faith is a Slayer. She's not a healer.

She's born for the kill. So she settles for grabbing the beast by the throat and hauling it up to her level, and she tosses her axe aside. There's something wild and feral in her tonight, and she just won't stop fucking itching. Maybe she just needs her fix.

That's what the rational part of her brain is telling her as her teeth sharpen into fangs and she drinks her fill from the beast's neck. She doesn't know that she's been spotted.]

IV. DAY TO DAY
(May. Wildcard option.)

[For the rest of the month, Faith does her job. She tends to patrol, even when the beasts are weaker. And she can be spotted in the middle of the night, with a crossbow in hand walking down the street or through the graveyard or through the woods or even on the beach. Sometimes she takes a minute to throw rocks and skid them along the surface of the water.

Sometimes she'll stop in bars and sit in a booth on her own, order something and enjoy whatever entertainments on. She's not as aggressively extraverted as she might be when she's partying, but if anyone wants to talk to her, they're free to.

And maybe once or twice, she'll engage in an underground fight, bet gems on it, and beat the living shit out of her opponent. Whether you come to her impressed at her ability, mildly outraged she didn't hold back a little, or even to offer a round in the ring, she'll be around.]

Comments

II/III Combo

[of_dathomir]

It would be difficult not to feel that presence, in a club. A force-user can feel powerful emotions with relative ease, unless they are shielded by mental disciplines - and a succubus, well. The club in question is an excellent ground for her to feel a range of emotions, as well as suss out information if she needs. And the drinking is good. It's still a novelty not to be seen on wanted posters, quite frankly.

But it's Faith that has her complete attention. Such a powerful personality, and especially now - certainly not entirely herself. She doesn't approach Faith that night, not directly, but she can't resist leaving in style. She wears precious little herself, though that is of habit more than anything. In part the cultural garb of her tribe, in part a way to show off the tattoos that signify her status, and in part to show that no other warrior's blade has left its mark on her limbs. She makes her exist across Faith's path as she dances, reaching out with a tendril of her own power in a sort of mental caress, her eyes locking with the other woman's as she passes.

It is not until several nights later that she actually makes her approach. She waits for the kill to happen, of course. It wouldn't do to interrupt, after all. She approaches silently, watching. Smiling. Oh, quite the killer instinct on this one, well done.

"Tell me," she says, tiling her head, voice amused and with a hint of being impressed. "So many desires," she says, eyes closing, hips swaying as if to music for a moment. "Mmm, they can be delicious. But tell me - have you satisfied yours?"

[slayerskiss]

If she thought that Faith was more inclined to react favourably when she's in a vulnerable position, she'd be wrong. Faith sucks the beast blood between her too sharp teeth.

She lets out a growl of irritation. She's not on the verge of beasthood, like the majority of people who would drink the blood of a beast would be. Instead, she's swelling with a powerful fury, and the madness that constantly lurks in her mind is intensified. Rage, rage, rage.

Something about the woman in front of her is familiar, but her mind is too drunk on the violence inside her. She scratches at her neck, enough to draw blood, and then in a husky growl, she finally speaks.

"What the fuck do you want?"

[of_dathomir]

It would depend on your definition of vulnerable, really - for someone like Tavion, this isn't so much a vulnerable moment, as one of...potential. Her emotions practically sing to Tavion. A massive, choral swirl.

"To understand, of course," she says, with a wide smile. "To find out just what it is that drives such fury. It's even more powerful than the desires you had the other night, and they were very nearly intoxicating."

Her smile is practically feral itself. Such powerful emotions are cause for celebration amongst her generation of Nightsisters - they can shatter bonds, alter the mind, unleash a truth from within. She's far and long from home, but this moment draws her like a moth to a flame.

"Let it out," she urges. "All of it. Let it stand under the moonlight and scream defiance at the world."

[slayerskiss]

What drives her fury? The question itself tempts it. She's angry, but why? It's rooted in her, deep within her identity, deep within her rotten blackened heart. Where does it come from? Her blood? Her soul? Did she inherit it? Was she born with it?

No, it's the result of years and years of abuse. Of being stepped on, of being crushed underfoot by a despicable world that didn't care. That saw her as something dangerous to prod.

She's drunk on the blood of the monster and maybe it's making her feel a bit more like a monster herself.

"You want me to let it out?" She growls, stepping forward, her teeth bared into bestial fangs. "I'm not your fucking entertainment."

There's something that drives her, even beyond her pirmal anger, something pushing her to violence. This buzzing, like a call, like an itch. She grabs Tavion by the throat and pushes her against a tree. "But maybe I'll devour you if you're so fuckin' eager."

There's something wrong with her, she feels like she's watching from outside her body. But it doesn't stop her. She's not strangling her, just holding her by the neck, almost like she's examining it. Her rage and her desires... they're sort of the same thing for her, anyway.

I

[payingfordeliverance]

[When Faith goes to leave the graveyard, she'll find a couple of figures lurking nearby, despite the strange hour. It's possible she has seen Break and his omen in passing around the Clockhouse, or that she's been told Break's house is where Qrow hauled Ozpin off to after the vampire incident last January. He's vaguely aware of her existence in turn. Even so, they've not been formally introduced, and he isn't about to give her a reason to shoot first and ask questions later. For that reason he's positioned himself outside of the tree line and well within the moonlight, easy for her to spot.

Though, there's not much else that can be done to alleviate the inherent creepiness of a stranger waiting patiently for you to conclude your graveyard business in the middle of the night. Bonus points for your noodley shadow dog and his glowing white eyes.

There's no telling how much they overheard. But when Faith finally approaches, he politely ignores the entire thing.]

Begging your pardon, miss. Might you be the reason I heard a gunshot around here earlier this evening?

[slayerskiss]

[She glances at him, a touch of exhaustion in her eyes. She's heard that this is one of the people staying at this house, probably the one that Qrow was worried about considering they're apparently dating or whatever.

She's not hostile immediately, but definitely stand-off-ish, like it's an accusation he's throwing at her feet. Maybe it's just because he looks fancy. Maybe it's just because she's in a shitty mood.]

Yeah, I don't know if you've ever set foot in here but the dead rise all the fuckin' time. It's why they lock 'em up. Just cleaning out the garbage. [She says, as if she didn't just break a full bottle of liquor on the ground.]

[payingfordeliverance]

That's quite fine. I ask because, if the gunshot came from you, I needn't worry about searching for anyone else.

[Her surliness doesn't bother him. Nobody who's hanging out in a graveyard with a bottle of booze in the middle of the night is doing well -- Break knows this because he has done so from time to time, in the distant past -- so he has no reason to take her foul mood personally.]

Should you wish for an escort to the lamp at the Sanguine Station, I can provide such. My home is not far from here, so it's no trouble for me.

Sapphora/2

[threelayers]

[Neopolitan made her way into her favorite haunt, and her eyebrows raised at the sight of ... uh... hmmm. She sort of paused and looked around before glancing at the bartender for just a moment.

'It's bauph's month. Strange things happen.' they murmured. Well, if the hunters weren't freaking out, sure, she could give it a pass too. No point getting in someone's face. But, then again, why not?

She picked up a drink and made her way over. For the moment, she wasn't changed herself... or was she? With those damned illusions she always wore, who'd ever actually know? Waving once, she glanced at the spot across from Faith. This seat taken? She thought she might have met this one on the network somewhere, though she wasn't sure.]

[slayerskiss]

[Faith shrugs nonchanatly, her dark lips widening into a smile. There's a bestial manner to it, considering she's unmistakenly a demon, but her smile is dazzling nevertheless. She is, after all, a succubus at the moment.]

Help yourself. [Her voice is normal, though. And if there's any recognition on Faith's end she shows approximately none of it. Mostly because there isn't.] You got a name?

[Seems only polite to ask.]

[threelayers]

[She flopped into the spot most convenient, crossing her legs as she did, one hand gently resting on her omni. You know you're dealing with someone who's spent all their life typing everything they say when they just rested their fingers on the keyboard and typed the letters from memory that fast.]

Sure do, Neopolitan.
Yes, like the ice cream, hehe.
A girl's gotta have a theme.

Nice look you've got going.
Transformations the new hot number this month?

Sapphora

[snakesdonthavelegs]

[ Since coming to Trench, Jessica has turned what was once an idle fancy of becoming a musician into a living, pursuing it with a passion that even she found surprising. It's a way to do something with all the emotional turmoil and nervous energy that has built up, and the recognition she gets from it feels really good. Finally she has a role to play that she chose for herself, can be the person she chooses to.

She certainly gets plenty of recognition when she plays at Sapphora, something that still flusters her, but which she is finding increasingly pleasant. Even with the low level corruption festering in her heart, she feels confident in ways she never thought possible before. Each time a woman here makes a pass on her, she stammers out an excuse about going through a nasty break-up (close enough to the truth), and each time her resistance decreases a little, she grows to like the attention even more, she begins flashing coy looks of her own at interesting patrons.

Like at the girl sipping... something, out of a glass, drop dead gorgeous and a fascinating sight with those wings and tail, like some western devil. She's just off from a set, her guitar still backstage, bubbly pop that gives way to more soulful numbers, and the adrenaline thrill of the performance still hasn't worn off. ]

Um, hey. Did you like the music?

[ Her crooked grin is just a little too awkward to be dashing, but she gives it a try. Why not? It's true that there's a bang of guilt, knowing that the love she still obsesses over is somewhere in the city, but... she's been trying hard so hard step forward, make a new life. Can't this just part of that, wherever it goes?

She leans forward a bit, biting her lip with a pointed incisor. ]

I'm Jessica.

[slayerskiss]

[Faith cocks her head slightly in curiosity. She recognizes her. First, there was the conversation on the network, then the shows she's been doing at the Raccoon Room that Faith tends to watch. Faith knows that Ange knows her, she knows that she lives at the Clockhouse, but beyond that...

Well, she can see the nervousness in her steps, which is a contrast to the excitement and high energy she was projecting before. It's cute. It helps that she's very cute to begin with.

Faith's dark lips break into a smile.]

Yeah, started off with this wicked cute high energy vibe, then got more serene and beautiful as it went on. The singer too. [She grins.] I'm Faith. We talked a few months ago, dunno if you remember.

Can I get you a drink?

[snakesdonthavelegs]

[ Jessica had seen the girl in the audience at those shows, and certainly it had vaguely registered to her that she was attractive. But it's not like she was really looking at the time, no matter how increasingly aware she was becoming of her attraction to other women.

Up close like this is another thing entirely. Those smoldering eyes and sardonic smile, that casual compliment delivered without breaking her stride, all combine to light fireworks in Jessica's chest. ]

Oh! G-Good! That's good. Thanks, I definitely work hard. At... the music.

[ Oh, jeez, what is she even doing? Why did she think she could do this, she looks like an absolute dork. The only thing that saves her is when Faith mentions their prior conversation, and the recognition clicks.

At the time she'd seemed cool and funny, maybe somebody she'd like to make friends with later. But she was too absorbed in her dawning realization of her feelings for Sayo to think much more of it. But now, recognizing her feels like a welcome presence, an element of sanity in her chaotic life. ]

Oh, that was you! Um, yeah, how are you, it's really cool to see you in person! Um, I-I'll take a soda, by the way.

ii

[entreats]

[ At first the sight Ange sees feels so weird that she thinks she imagined it.

After all, who would glance up towards the roofs while walking the street of Trench and then spot someone you know who is looking decidedly off like that? Sure, it's entirely possible in a city like this one, but that doesn't mean everyone she knows is suddenly hanging out in weird places with new features on their body.

Except when Ange looks back up, Faith is still there. And still looking like she's halfway to turning into an actual monster. Not having figured out yet that it's just a thing that's going on this month, Ange's imagination immediately moves all the way towards corruption - and that's worrying. She may not exactly be bosom buddies with Faith, but the other has been nice to her in that Faith sort of way. She even offered to start fights at her wedding if necessary. So-- there's absolutely no way Ange can ignore this, hence why she keeps looking up at the other up there.

She closes her eyes, there's a moment of focus - and then Ange's body falls apart into a cloud of golden butterflies that flutter through the air, up and up towards the roof Faith is sitting on, until her body reforms back up there.

Except Ange's facial expression is obviously concerned at this point. ]

Faith.. [ The chances to the other's appearance are even more obvious now she can see it from close up. There's not even time to fuss about the entire clothing thing, because she's too worried about what's going on here otherwise. ] What happened to you?

[slayerskiss]

[Faith smiles at the display of Ange's magic. She doesn't have a lot of friends in Trench, and since she's Faith and all intensity all the time, she's grown attached to the ones that she does have.

It doesn't seem like there's immediately any inclination towards violence from Faith, the only movement she makes is for her tail to flicker upward.]

Don't know, really. [She seems remarkably nonchalant, and it's equal parts stubborn denial and performative confidence. She's decided to be chill about this, everyone else can just fuckin' deal.] It's happening to a lot of people, though. I think it's a Baus thing.

[entreats]

[ The nonchalance about the situation doesn't surprise Ange in the slightest. After all, Faith is-- well, Faith. Ange doesn't even really have any other words for it. Faith is just Faith, ever contrary. Not freaking out when one ought to, for one, or just not showing it, even in a perfectly acceptable situation to be freaking out.

(Something about a pot and a kettle goes here.)

Still, Ange seems to believe what the other is saying here, at least. It makes some tension seep out of her shoulders, but there's an exasperated edge to the sigh that's deep enough to make it sound like her soul is leaving her body. ]

Seriously? You could've warned me! You just startled me half to death.

[ B-Because she was worried! D-don't misunderstand, baka! ]

I thought it was corruption.

III

[survivalthroughhate]

[After going through hell and a lot of risks to bring his mate back from the brink of beasthood, Maul's feeling a bit sensitive when it comes to people drinking the blood of others. If he hadn't been lucky enough to reach Reaper right when he did, he would have been reduced right into a mindless creature set on drinking people dry.

So when he sees Faith drinking the blood of a beast, he shakes his head and takes a few steps closer to her, all full of purpose. There's a commanding tone in his voice.]

You need to stop that.

[slayerskiss]

[The voice inspires no fear in the monster before him, only a measured glance. At first, she's simply surprised, the itch is almost forgotten for the moment, before she lights up in a loud and cruel laugh, overwhelming rage beneath it.

Then, with a vicious sneer, she steps forward.]

You. Of all the people to think they can make fuckin' demands of me, you're about the most off your fucking rocker.

[She reaches up her hands, almost claws really, and scratches her neck hard enough to draw blood. It won't stop itching. It's making her angry, really viciously angry. And she already had a score to settle with Maul, so really this works out nicely.

The rational part of her brain tells her how terrible this is, as an idea, as a plan. She meant to settle this differently. Reasonably, so she could move on from her promise to kill him and she can leave him be.

She clutches the reasonable part of her mind and soul and crushes it in the palm of her monstrous hand. Metaphorically.]

[survivalthroughhate]

Takes one monster to know another when they see it.

[Maul retorts. There are times for talking and there are times for action. Faith doesn't look like she wants to have a rational chat right now. He will do what he must here and so he draws his lightsaber, the curious black blade of the Darksaber thrumming to life. He goes into a combat pose.]

You can stop on your own or I will be forced to stop you. The choice is yours.

[It's an illusion of one really, given Maul's ready to attack, but he still offers it to Faith. She can walk away from this.]

VI: Bars

[unphase]

[Tinya tries to go to ever bar which allows women on a regular basis. one bar on one night, another on the second, and so on.

eventually, that takes her to the bar Faith is at. Tinya casts her gaze over the crowd. she's no paleblood, but it's not hard to see who might not mind a little company. that had been something she'd done ever her mother insisted, go to someone who's alone, charm them, pry out their secrets, then go tell her mother.

but she tries to turn her mother's cruelty into a kindness. so she slides into the booth opposite Faith, a small smile curving her lips]

Hello. Mind a little company?

[slayerskiss]

[Faith glances up at Tinya, only a little caught off guard. Normally she does the approaching, but it's not an unwelcome change. She offeers a small smile and shrugs.]

Five by five. You can sit here if you want. [Despite her wording, her body language is friendly and so is her tone. She just apparently talks like this.] Don't think I know your name, though.

[unphase]

[her own fault, her time with the Espionage Squad taught her to move almost silently. and Tinya smiles back]

All right, I will. Thank you. [and she slips into the booth facing Faith] I'm Tinya. Not exactly new here, not anymore, but you looked like someone I'd want to meet.

III: or, Three's Company

[butnotyet]

There is, in fact, someone else in the forest with Faith. There has been someone in the forest — getting to know Trench, still, visiting a new place every day, aside from a brief jaunt earlier in the month — and tonight, far too late in the day for wisdom, someone has been sitting on a tree branch very Patiently for hours.

(If anyone had seen him and asked, he would have answered, with the utmost serenity, that he was on a snipe hunt; did this hypothetical person wish to join him?)

Instead, his attention has been drawn by someone else's hunt — and Snacc, apparently. Huh. He could have sworn John's notes suggest that Consuming Beast Blood Is A Bad Idea, Mmmkay, emphatically — and yet, here is someone he could have also sworn he'd seen in John's study, doing exactly that, without a clear research outline or objective observer —

He moves closer, then, until — still standing on a tree branch, and apparently forgetting that there's no way she's ever seen him dressed up in this ridiculous full-body-coverage leather suit (in mismatched-blacks with brown accents, perfect for blending into the shadows), with its fine boots and gloves, and its fine full-head mask that can't decide if it's meant to signify an owl or a plague doctor or both, but at least it's brown and has mirrored goggle lenses as its eyes so nobody looking at him can see that there's nothing to see here, folks, move along — he's close enough to comfortably call out to her.

"I say! You seem to have missed a spot, there — no, no, just there, yes, that's it. Splendid."

[slayerskiss]

The look in her eyes is somewhere between exhilaration and rage, at this smarmy motherfucker for coming into her forest and interrupting her kill. She practically growls, fangs bared, dripping with beast blood.

If she were in her right mind, she might have recognized his voice as belonging to one of Doctor Bones God JOHN's friends, and maybe a distant part of her mind gnaws at her, gnaws at the familiarity. Who? WHO? WHO??

A dead man, if she has anything to say about it. She'll kill him, add him to the pile so he can't crawl back into the thick of Trench and cast her out, cast her out like HER GIRL DID, LIKE THEY ALL DID. (They were trying to help her, the rational part of her tells her, you can't blame her for your own -) SHE WON'T BE MADE INTO THE VICTIM AGAIN.

But it's so itchy. The crawling under her skin, it crawls and crawls. It's maddening. She brings up her clawed hands and scratches her neck, hard enough to draw blood.

"What the fuck do you want?" Her voice comes out as a growl. Whether she's cursed or corrupted, there's something clearly wrong with her. "I don't know you."

[butnotyet]

There's a very quiet snapping, from the direction of the weirdo's tree branch; a moment later, a small white fabric blob comes flying down toward her, easy enough to catch, otherwise hopefully not landing in a puddle of blood or viscera. Clearly enough it's got some weight to it, to fly so unerringly toward her, no matter how good a pitching arm this asshole has — and yet even the least-careful investigation will reveal that it's a plain white handkerchief, tied up around... nothing at all? No, wait, there's the tiniest bit of ash, there and gone again a second later, carried off by the wind.

"'Oh, thank you, kind sir, I should so have hated to go back into town looking as though I'd wanted to bathe in Beast blood and draw them after me into the streets!'" His altered voice — mimicking feminine, and just as obviously not accurately mimicking her voice, current growl or normal tones either one — is not in the same tree as before, the one at the originating end of the thrown arc; he's also not making enough sound in the branches to easily track his location by anything but his voice, annoyingly — at least so long as he remains downwind. (Not that he really smells like anything but old, albeit clean, leather, and the rest of the forest.)

"Are you trying to do that?" he asks, in a more courteous regular-voice tone — pure curiosity, no actual judgment involved. "Or just... trying to turn into a Beast yourself?" he adds, from a tree on her torn-neck-side. "That looks a bit... well, like it's going to take more than one handkerchief to patch that up without scarring." (His tone is maybe even a touch concerned, now.)