I Feel Just Like the Tramp [Open]

[Danielle Maiker]

There was just nothing like waking up under an old, broken down train to who knows how dirty water dripping on your face. At first, Danielle didn’t wake up, her dream morphing into more of something like a waterfall splashing all around her. But after a few more drops, the dog scrunched up her muzzle and blinked open her eyes. Her entire nose felt all tingly, like when you put a piece of tape on there. She snorted, wrinkling it all around. She looked at the dripping water, sniffed at it, and then licked a couple of drops.

Ugh! Disgustingly full of chemicals. She wasn’t sure why she’d expected any different. Hell, it came off a rusting train. It was nothing a good shake wouldn’t take care of, so she got up and did just that. At some point, the shake morphed into a stretch and she bowed, pulling every muscle tight as a drum before the release. Typical dog style, she transferred fluidly from a bow to stretching her back legs.

Why was she in her dog form? Good question, but it had a good answer. For one, she liked it. Sleeping was easier, safer as a dog. Dogs can get sleep just as restoring as the deep human stuff and be ready to jump up at any sound. Then there was the fact that no one really bothered her as a dog, not as much as people seemed to fuss over a homeless woman. Plus it was getting colder. She had a million excuses as to why it was a good idea.

Stiffly, she crawled back under the train and dragged out her backpack. There was a hunt around here and she wanted an early start on it. Demon omens had brought her here to this little town in Louisiana, but not the same kind as most hunters followed. Being a dog had its advantages in this job and one of them was this creepy spider sense for the supernatural. She’d always kind of had it, but it had opened up on a full-blown scale after her first shift. It had allowed her to follow the demons the moment she’d caught scent of one. Although she was a little surprised to find some of them moving like humans did. Demons didn’t usually drive.

Human again, she quickly got dressed in an attempt to avoid the morning chill as much as possible. Life was so much better with fur, especially here in Louisiana, the stronghold of her breed. People actually waved to her when she passed here. A few had tried to catch her and make a pet or a farm dog out of her, but she always wiggled out of their grip. Still, it was nice to be petted every once and a while and frankly, hitchhiking as a dog was so much easier. Not to mention a hell of a lot safer.

Pulling her sweatshirt on, she paused. Someone was here or something. The hair along her spine bristled and she looked around, nose going a million miles a minute. There was a seriously possibility she’d just been seen and she knew what that meant. If she had any luck left at all, whoever she could hear would have just arrived and not seen all of that shapeshifting, her naked stuff.

[stabinae]

Stabinae liked walking.
This was because when she was walking, generally it was quiet and generally she was alone. She still tended to avoid public places as much as was convenient - though she'd successfully integrated herself into society, there was only so much exposure to humanity she could stand in one stretch - so many of her foot-trips were in a more natural, rugged setting. Keeping with the whole facade of owning a bookstore meant that sometimes, she had to take days off.
Like on a Bank holiday. Like today. And today, she was spending the day walking.

It was arguable that the shackinjira's way of life was not the wisest course of action - keeping herself to herself, hiding amongst society and refusing to get involved in the rising Apopolyctic war - and while it certainly wasn't heroic in any shape or form, Stabinae was a demonic monster from the Pit. Regardless of how much she'd like the world to not end, no hunter in their right mind would accept that she was on their side (in a manner of speaking), and she simply wasn't powerful enough to stop the Apocolypse herself.
It was a troubling catch-22 situation.
However, seeing as she could not do anything about it, Stabinae did not concern herself with worrying over the outcome.

Either way, she'd probably end up being killed anyway if she was found. So what was the problem in stretching her legs in another state?
She'd driven here in her black Mercedes S-Guard under the pretence of taking a couple of days off; the quiet little town was a soothing change, and earlier, in the middle of the surrounding wilderness, she'd even Faded to skip a few miles. The sensation of walking might have been rich, but it was slow. Nothing came close to the rush from Fading from one place to the next. It was a pity that she couldn't indulge in her abilities more often for worry that she might be seen.

Tiny rocks and soil crunching underfoot. Water dripping. Leaves rustling. The distant - too far away for humans to hear - cawing of a crow.

Movement off to her right.

Instinctually, Stabinae's head snapped in the direction of the latter; her sharp burgundy eyes scanned the old, rusted metal carcass of the broken down train, pinpointing the source. A person - no, wait.

The shackinjira was not one to tilt her head; the only indication of her momentory confusion was the slight creasing of her brow. The 'all-seeing' eyes of her kind informed her that this was not a full human she had spotted, and her sense of smell backed them up on that. The subconscious label she gave the person was shifter, though the girl's aura was not a match for other shapeshifters/skinwalkers Stabinae had encountered in the past. Odd.

Overall, it left only one decision. Confront or avoid; and Stabinae tended to avoid things if she could. Perhaps it was this lack of compulsion for violence that had let her survive so long. After all, a demonic sentient being with no active interest or enthusiasm for bloodshed was not something you came across every day. Stabinae's paranoia had long-ago smothered any bloodthirsty urges; the desire not to be exposed meant that she had not killed a single creature in over seven years.

A shockingly clean record for a monster from the Pit.

The 'shifter' seemed to have noticed her presence, which meant that avoidance was unlikely now. Stabinae stood on the road, arms folded, her gaze clinical and assessing.

Waiting for the stranger to come to her.