Steven
Lymia's grey sky loomed over the northern horizon, black outlines of her elegant buildings promising lavish comfort to all wanderers that passed by. The wilderness around Lymia, however, had a beauty all its own. Verdant groves extended on either side of tranquil rivers as though nature herself was in full bloom with the coming of summer. Life revelled no matter where one looked. 

Even someone like Ashnard, whose line of work involved ending lives, could appreciate the grandeur. 

The renegade canifor guided his mare across the riverside, basking in the view that temporarily made him forget the carnage of his last endeavour. His mount moved to a slow trot, weary of its long trek from the Mentian flatlands. Sensing the steed's fatigue, Ashnard gave her mane a slight pat and dismounted, tying her reins against a nearby tree to allow her some well-earned reprieve. 

*We all could use some reprieve.* Ashnard sighed as he descended, looking around warily. No matter where one was, venturing the beaten path alone at night could be dangerous... Even if the likes of him were more likely to be assailants than assailed. The twisted black plating that covered his body from neck to heel, an amalgam of gnarled spiked plates and ashen scales contorted with his intent while Ashnard pressed a palm against his chest in momentary meditation. Sanguine runic patterns flared to life all across its surface, folded within the metal, then darkened alongside it; his entire visage afterwards reflecting neither stars nor moonlight. The only gleam left in him was that of his blood-red eyes before venturing into the nature that his very existence was an affront to. 

Swift as a shadow, he prowled into the grove, his paws making nought a noise over the mossy soil. *It should be the Hour of the Wolf soon,* He presumed, glancing up at the moon's position. *The nightshades must be in full bloom.*

It was an excuse to wander deeper more than anything else, he knew. The deep mauve petals did wanders for a troubled mind; offering a peaceful, dreamless slumber or a permanent one, depending on the dosage. Ashnard had no cause to worry about the latter, though; for what it's worth, his vampiric affliction offered him that much. 

Surely enough, he would find his prize deeper into the woods. On a clearing, a pond of lavender blooms awaited, their stems facing the moonlight. The vampire hound took a moment to bask in their intoxicating aroma, then stepped into the clearing to collect.
Juanita
*The Druid's voice called out from somewhere nearby. Her soft voice coming from somewhere behind the Canifor as it penetrated the silence of the woodland. It was times like these where her affinity for the nature arts alerted her of something approaching her location. Something she assumed was hunting her within this patch of woods she had detoured through on a silly whim she had the day before. The Vampiress found two sturdy branches high up in a nearby tree which she could lay flat across.* 

"A Mutt in need of Solanaceae, A story worthy of gossip if I'd say." *Up high her crimson eyes fixed themselves on the walking shadow that had stepped into the clearing. She too had collected from the plant the afternoon before. In fact she had collected nearly all of the berries of the psychoactive substance. Within a black bag which a string which to wear around one's neck is where she kept the Solanaceae berries. Imogen's pale hand reached for her chest and promptly tucked the bag underneath her black shirt. *

"Are you that addled where you must search for such a dangerous plant? I suppose I too would seek solace in any way I can if I had the unfortunate of being born from beast as well." *She could probably find a spell or two that would ease his appearance, maybe remove the messy fur that all beastkins seem to have in exchange for something appealing to look at. At the very least she could make one look more like a Macen than animal.* "If you explain yourself, I might take pity and extend aid to your cravings."
Steven
The notion that her presence had gone unnoticed may have been convincing for a time. However, it was immediately disputed when the rogue beastkin slowly turned to face Imogen with a leery glare and a fan of crimson-tipped daggers held between his fingers. 
"I had hoped you'd know better than to draw my attention, girl. At *Worst*, perhaps you'd be foolish enough to gasp or dash away in panic," He sighed, feigning disappointment before his pupils narrowed into serpentine slits, malignant red eyes glaring right at her own. "Alas, there is no such thing as being *Too* Much of a pompous fool when it comes to Lathians, is there?"

A snarl was all the warning he offered as a flick of his hand sent the dagger flying, three of them plunging at the branch Imogen had seated herself over. If one could judge from the speed and precision, that was no more than a warning shot.
"Perhaps you can *Gossip* Of my ventures with the dirt that will soak your blood or the carrion beasts that will feast on your flesh once you lay bloodied and broken on the ground. Do you reckon anyone will find you out here before all that's left of you will be bones?" The black beast queried, baring his fangs. 

The scorn in his eyes, however, soon became contempt as a smirk flickered on the edges of his muzzle. Her eyes were proof enough, but a brief sniff confirmed his suspicions. 
"But that would be too *Merciful* For you, would it not? It must feel terrible for your kind, being so imperfect, so *Tainted*. Your own kin must view you as a ravenous, bloodthirsty *Beast*, no different than they would view me." 
He took a threatening step forward, his form blurring further under the shadows cast by leaven canopies. His voice, deep and guttural and harsh as gravel fractured, resonating from one branch to another. 
"So who is *Really* In search of solace here, girl? Who has a true need to explain themselves? Who has to pretend they are anything better than a life-drinking *Monster*?"
Juanita
*The Vampiress listened to the bravado and insults flowing from the Canifor's mouth, the words she spoke were met with a smile that didn't show any teeth. She found him amusing to say the least, something about him was oddly predictable. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself? He definitely seemed used to being talked down to by others. Upon the Druid reaching those thoughts, her smile opened and revealed teeth. Even with the daggers landing so close, the smile remained. Imogen reached forward and pressed the tip of her index finger across the blade's edge. With a quick swipe downwards, the air filled with the scent of her natural Lavender scent and the iron scent of freshly spilled blood. Imogen removed her gaze from the Canifor and focused onto the self-inflicted cut on her index finger. Pressing her thumb into the pooling blood and spreading it across her pale skin. Just like all other wounds, this one sealed itself in a matter of moments.*

*The Lathian girl reached behind her back and pulled out a mask made out of an animal's skull. Its size allowed it to fit neatly across her face with a pair of horns protruding from the top. Everything below her nose was still exposed, perfect for allowing any feeding without the removal of the mask. Within a few seconds of fitting it across her face, it attached itself to her flesh. She tested the blade for signs of necrotic elements, something that would hinder her regenerative abilities and was pleased to find the Canifor ill-equipped.* 

"Being a vampire isn't as bad as I originally thought, I feel I've become well adjusted to my situation. On the plus side, I can always seek a cure to my monstrosity. But you.." *There was no known cure to being a house pet, they both knew it and it didn't need to be said. Since he brought up the subject of bones, she just had to ask to sedate her curiosity.* 
"Tell me, when you find your kind expired upon the forest floor, how different are your bones from that of free wolves?"

*A chuckle escaped her mouth as she continued, Her left hand lifting to cover the smile that she continued to wear as she stifled down more laughter* "Usually normal people don't feel the need to try and lower someone to their standards, proving that you're well aware of where you belong. So tell me, why fight against domestication? You could be such a lovely guard dog, probably wouldn't need this every night as well." *She placed her hand over her chest, over the pouch of Solanaceae leaves buried beneath her shirt.*