((Picking up the broken bottles and bodies at the bar))

Constantin picks himself up, and shakes himself off, head ringing from the werewolf's blow, even one at partial strength. He dashes back to the center of the room, making sure Rufus is alright, with worried eyes behind obscuring glasses and a hand to his fur.

((This is an interaction between Adam, Larry, and a frickkin' football stadium's worth of blackeyed minions))

Adam and Larry burst onto the street, only to be confronted with an oncoming crowd of something like a hundred or more black-eyed, expressionless individuals, walking with orderly, determined purpose straight for the restaurant door.

Rufus licks Constantin's face to reassure him before turning back to human form and hugging his friend.

((Constantin and Rufus))
Constantin returns the hug, a trifle too tightly. "Satana și demonii săi toate nu ar putea face față cu tine! Are you trying to send me back to my grave?" He stares at Rufus for a moment, before simply stroking back a red curl, knocked astray from the fight.
"Do you want to help Sam? I was thinking of checking on Claire," he asks, much more softly.

Rufus kisses Constantin fiercely before backing off with a smile and a squeeze to Constantin's shoulder before going to check on Sam.

((the suddenly obviously outed Constantin and Rufus. Impetuous werewolves. Impetuous werewolves everywhere))

Constantin blinks, doing his best not to reel from the unexpected kiss, or to do anything so embarrassing as to melt into it or any such rot.

But maybe his arms find their way to twine around the shorter man, who - who really needs to get his clothes back. And to maybe not risk his recently built reputation over him, idiotic, idealistic, inimioarul!

Constantin quickly glances round the room. There are certainly a number of pubs where that sort of behaviour would... not end well, for anyone involved. Assuming no bottles are being broken in righteous fury, Constantin then moves near Claire, gently taking her hand and trying to guide her somewhere else, murmuring soft encouragement and soothing words, but never once telling her it's okay. They both know it's not, and he's not going to lie to her.

Rufus has no more trousers to change into but he does have a pair of underpants that he grabs from his back pack. Once he's no longer...hanging out...as it were, he goes over to calm Sam down.

((OOC: I'd like to find a better character pic for Sam. Suggestions will be accepted. I'm looking for something that captures both a boyish sweetness of disposition and unreasonable large physical size and strength. Not too heroic or good-looking; he's a wallflower who prefers to fade into the background))

Blood.

He'd seen it in movies, but he never thought it would be so red in real life. A fan of droplets, the splash pattern too perfect to be real.

Little chunks disturb the fan pattern. They look out of place, like some prop master did his job sloppily. Something inside him heaves.

Then a presence is near him. Tall and warm.

When Rufus approaches, Sam looks up with a confused smile. "Hi... I can't find my girlfriend. Can you tell me where she went?"

Rufus looks very sad when he hears Sam say that. "She...she left, but there are people who are still here who need you to stay and help, but it's going to be hard and if you can't do that you could go home." He sits on the floor next to Sam and offers him a hand to hold.

In a sullen voice, Sam says, "No I can't. Larry said a dragon fell on our house."

He takes Rufus' hand but doesn't seem to know what to do with it.

"Is there somewhere else you could go or did you want to stay here? If there's no where else I could call my mom but she's in Wales so it would take her awhile to get here." He tries to keep his tone light to keep Sam from panicking.

"Sometimes we go over to Rush's hedge. Kay likes the fish." He plays with Rufus' hand a bit, like a child might, pulling on the fingers.

Then he brightens, "Hey, do you think maybe she went over there?"

Before Rufus can respond, he looks around, something in his eyes speaking of confusion, misplaced pain, uncertainty.

He looks everywhere except at Kay. But then his gaze falls on the blood on the wall. A perfect red splatter pattern, leaking down the wall.

In a strange voice, he says, "Someone should clean that up..."

RUSH:
Rush doesn't really take in anything Cyrus says after he sets the scrying glass up, just wavering in place and staring at the scene with a look of horror. Yeah, seeing the bodies really helps it to sink in...

He falls into the nearest rickety chair, just letting the mirror sit in front of him. Where's Cyrus gone? For his roommate? Oh, it doesn't matter-- so long as he's not here Rush feels more than justified in shedding a few tears. The most sickening part is probably not knowing who pulled the gun on Kay, or who was it who had to kill Jacob, or what damage Sasha and the police have managed to cause in the past few minutes.

...Or that feeling of nagging guilt, like he ran away when the stakes were high. Yeah, that's actually the worst part, not that he wants to full acknowledge it.

[...Well, shit. Interaction between Constantin and Claire.]

Claire

It's a good thing indeed that Constantin isn't trying to say it's okay.

Claire's hand is loose and clammy in his, like she doesn't quite realize it's there, or that she's here. Her voice is rough and cracked--as if she's been screaming, more so than even earlier would be at fault for. Her eyes are wide, unblinking, and have been that way for some time. Like she's seeing something that's both there and not. A hand tangles viciously in her hair, she's not even sure it's hers.

"Stop," she whispers hoarsely. "No, it hurts, please don't, n-no, come back, don't leave me, g-g-go awa..." The seeming contradictions trail off, though her lips still move as she shakes. Her eyes drift to the blood, the one that needs to be cleaned like Sam says, cleaned away, snuffed out, like candles and people and futures and beauty and she stops, at least physically, quavering all the more as the perfect redness seems to expand and consume everything, consume the Place which knows not darkness for it hasn't light. Her stomach twists again, and her free hand clutches her hair all the harder.

"All...fall...down."

(((OOC: Apologies if some of that doesn't make sense at the moment. GM! I have things for you. I may just email them later, bro.)))

((Constantin and Claire))

He allows just a hint of pressure to his hand, to help her concentrate on this world. Then he removes his sunglasses (she already knows what he is), and takes her second hand in his own as well, before she hurts herself.

"Claire?" he asks. She's not making any sense, not that he or anyone could expect her to, but all the same he thinks it better if he listens, not just talks. "Can you look at me?" he urges softly, anything and everything to help her focus on what's actually in front of her right now. He's crouched low, to both seem unthreatening and to hide more of her surroundings from her. "Talk to me, Claire."

He'd heard from a friend in Nightline that repeating someone's name helps. He wishes now he'd payed more attention to all the techniques she talked about.

((OOC: Mrs. GM? If Kaila is having to roll anything to snap out of it, I am obviously happy to roll an assist, and do have the inspiring trait, if that makes a difference under the circumstances))

[...Well, shit. Interaction between Constantin and Claire.]

Claire

"Constantin." The statement's surprisingly lucid, especially considering the fact that she's not looking at him, exactly, but rather in his general vicinity and down. She stumbles a bit closer, dark blue eyes roving back and forth slowly, similar to reading, though of course there's no words.

She pitches forward, almost drunkenly, and her voice is strained and heavy as she speaks, and no less sensible. "Fes---tering. It hurts, whywhy, why...does it hurt when it doesn't either 's'not really real but real isn't real...either." She pauses, then finally makes eye-contact for the briefest of instants. Her pupils are blown wide. She quickly darts her gaze away; did she ever even truly look at him?

"Ending." She finally blinks, the movement slow, so very slow. Her words strengthen ever-so-slightly as she picks up again, this time in a lost-sounding, childish sing-song.

"This is the way the word ends, this is the way the word ends, this is the way the world ends..."

((With All the Werewolves in this Bar; How'd Little Red Riding Hood Get Trapped with a Vamp?))

His hands are cold, as they come up to cup her face and hold her looking at something real. "What do you mean, Claire? I made a promise - to you and your dad - but you've got to help me understand before I can try to help. What hurts?"

He's focusing on that right now; she might truly have been hurt, even beyond the mental. Just keep her talking, for now, and try to keep her grounded. Of course she feels like the world is ending. Her world is ending. And not just hers, he doesn't think.

It might be true. It might be prophecy - familiars and those more aware than he of the supernatural were certainly eyeing the poor girl with interest. But whether she's a frightened girl, or gibbering with true sight, the first thing to do is just to try his armchair psychology best to calm and help her.
He doesn't know what he's doing, and there are probably better choices, but he's the one who's here. He just hopes that's enough.

[...Well, shit. Interaction between Constantin and Claire--and great question, lolol.]

Claire

She slowly let's her head, already cradled in such cold, cold hands, fall rest against his forehead. Claire quietly sighs, eyes shining again with tears; sadness, pain, confusion...what isn't she feeling?

"Inside." She clutches at her shirt, practically clawing at it, really, as she stares straight into Constantin's eyes, not truly seeing them. The way she says 'inside' seems to imply something deeper than just a flesh wound because really, isn't that what all physical wounds are?

Her gaze grows more distant, looking very far away, or perhaps just to the middle distance. "Outside, too. What's outside is in and inside out, because they're the same. But different. Mine, but not mine." The hand already clutching her shirt twists as she pitches forward again with a whimper, clonking her skull again his; she doesn't seem to register the outside pain.


(((OOC: Ashton-- for new Sam PB, I have this dashing lad, mayhap?)))

((Claire and Constantin: The Not So Dynamic Duo))

He can't take this. He can't take this, and he can't fix this, he doesn't even know what this is, so he just holds her, folding her into an embrace (that can't be anything but frigid no matter his intent), simply for lack of something to do to actually help.

"Whose is it, if it's not yours, ingerasul?" he manages to ask, low and confused by her ear, trying to stick to simple questions. Simple questions she might be able to answer, something, some kind of thread he can follow to not break his word to a dead man or a little girl who's seen too much too soon.

((Interaction between Rufus and Sam and whoever's listening))

Rufus calls out to the other people in the room, "Somebody clean this up." He returns to Sam. "It's okay Sam, it'll get cleaned up. Promise. And I don't think she went to Rush's place Sam, she went really far away."

[Claire and Constantin--C²]

Claire

There's a beat of silence. "Everyone's. No...one's." Another pause, this one heavier as she exhales shakily and tries out a word. "...Collective. The bad things," Claire continues, sounding more foggy still. "They have to be...word, word, not a word--purged. Purged."

She sighs--a long, wheezing thing--as she grips uncertainly at Constantin's shirt, huffing a breath against his cold shoulder and neck. Suddenly her body seizes up and she starts coughing, hard, hacking things that seem to be trying to expel something. With a stomach acid-burned esophagus and so much screaming already this evening, to say they sting is an understatement. Claire pulls her hand free and ducks down a bit in the cold embrace, covering her mouth; a moment later she pulls away, staring at her hand in an awe that manages to be both blank and fearful at once.

"...Black." Or maybe just, no light. She laughs softly, quietly, hollowly, staring at the apparent contents of her palm--which to the naked eye is, apparently, completely empty.

((Conaire - now with 100% less Nic Cage!))

He slowly puts his hand over hers, so she stops staring. "What needs to be purged, printesa, and how?" If he just keeps hacking away at this, maybe, gods be good, he'll be able to find some part of it he can understand, some little thread he can pull so the whole thing starts to unravel.
Running a hand in circles on her back, to try to help with the coughing, he calls over her shoulder to Borogris, "Could you see about getting her some water, please?" He didn't like the sound of those coughs, or how she winced while doing so, but doesn't think leaving is a good idea either.

"Get back inside, Larry," Adam says, his voice terse.

"But--"

"Go."

Larry hesitates, shifting his weight back, then he turns and runs back through the door.

Adam stares at the horde of oncoming black-eyed crowd, as if he could stop them with will alone.

Now what, Adam? Great plan. I'm glad to see you really thought this through.

Seeing they are still 2 or 3 minutes from actually reaching the door, he slips into a shadowy nook by the edge of the alleyway, behind a dumpster.

There, he puts his back to the wall and lets himself sink slowly to the ground. He closes his eyes and, for just a moment, lets his heart break.

Sam doesn't appear to hear Rufus' last words. Instead, his attention has been caught by Claire, across the roof, coughing and hacking, her tear-stained face staring mesmerized at her open hand.

Sam's hand suddenly catches Rufus' tightly. (boy's got a grip on him!)

"What's wrong with her?" he asks. "Why is she sad? Can you make her feel better?" An edge of panic creeping into his voice, he repeats, "Can you make her feel better? Make her feel better!"

Cyrus returns after a few minutes, looking more confused than anything. "Looks like Pepper and the cats just...left. Maybe they had to all get shots today or something..." He shrugs and grabs a beer from the fridge. "Rush, you want anything?"

After grabbing the required drinks, Cyrus takes a seat next to the scrying mirror, slowly watching and drinking. So, Adam and Larry are gone, and Claire, Sam, and a cop seem to be...out of it, to put things lightly. Makes sense, considering how most people react to death.

"See Constantin? He's doing his best to make her feel better. He has a lot of sisters so he has a lot of practice calming girls down." Rufus gives Sam's hand a reassuring squeeze before moving so he is in the line of sight between Sam and Claire. The last thing he needs is Sam panicking about something else too.

RUSH:
Rush quickly looks away to try and pretend he's feeling more composed than he actually is, tugging his feathered collar up nervously.

"Went out for shots? ...Cyrus, we don't know what's been going on in the rest of London for the past twenty minutes-- wait." He freezes, watching the barroom scene as a frightened Larry comes dashing back in. Other shoe, prepare to drop. "Oh God, what now..."

"But... she's hurting! Why is she hurting?" Sam looks up at Rufus with big, earnest eyes. Something haunted deep in those eyes is moving around, trying to escape, but he doesn't quite seem to be able to face it yet.

"Where's Kay," he looks around, a strained edge to his voice. "Where's Kay? She can make it better. She always makes it better."

"Sam? Claire's hurting like you're hurting, someone she cares about very much went away...Neither Kay or Claire's dad can be here right now and it's going to hurt for both of you but you need to stay strong. Alright? Just because she's not here doesn't mean you can't be here either."

[Clairetin--live Clairetin clear!]

Claire

She doesn't grasp on to what he's saying, but rather begins to hum-- 'all around the mulberry bush', it would seem, and a rather rattling rendition of it, truth be told. Claire continues to stare at what is now Constantin's hand. Still there. Covering doesn't make it go away, oh no, just more fun to find. Claire coughs again, her body seizing with the tension once again; she doesn't notice this time.

"Secrets," she says in an apparent non sequtir. Her mouth twists into a taunting grimace for an instant, and then it's gone, replaced by tears again. "They're there, but can't...read them."

Not yet, at least.