Hold The Door

Mountainside Planetarium - Clutch Only 
#1
The one aspect of vampirism the media consistently got wrong was that not all vampires were charismatic, attention-seekers that could bask in a room of hundreds. Samuel went well out of his way to avoid even a single stranger.

Which is why he had near flown off the stairwell to get away from footsteps coming from below. He was still on the public floors of the Planetarium, the chance for a run-in with a visitor was far too great for him to risk. Around the corner sat the elevator, Samuel had clocked it weeks ago and now it would be his savior. Soon he'd be safe in the lower levels, the area restricted to clutch members and the converted library space that Samuel had come to claim. It was so blessedly quiet down there and in a matter of minutes he should soon be reunited with the armchair and this week's anthology.

He was continuing his life as a recluse, but in a far nicer environment, so this counted as a step up.

Elevator button pushed with fervor, Samuel slid inside and up to the button panel. His eyes tracked for his intended stop, which he jabbed quickly with his knuckle, followed by the 'door close' button for added measure. He was a hair width away from sweet solitude before a hand caught the closing doors. Samuel's dead heart did a little flip in his chest. He had not been expecting company.
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#2
Osvald was no mind reader. He only assumed, as he managed to catch the elevator just in time, that whoever had been tapping the button in there was in an immense rush.

"Pardon," he smiled, apologetic as he hobbled in, beloved dragon's head cane supporting his limp. And then he saw the man's face, and his eyebrows rose, forehead lines creasing in surprise.

"Oh — I don't think we have met actually. Osvald," he extended a hand.
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#3
The initial panic of being in close quarters with some vapid human dulled to a quiet roar. It was a vampire who entered the elevator. A fellow clutch member.

Samuel also had little recollection of this elder. He could place a hunched form somewhere during the clutch events, but all the faces blurred together.

"No, I don’t believe we have. Samuel." He took the hand, distantly aware the elevator doors had closed, leaving them alone inside. "Are you also going down?"
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#4
Samuel was a reasonable name. Osvald smiled, shook his hand, and looked to stand somewhat dignified with his cane before him, both hands resting on the head.

"Yes — stairs are a bit difficult with my leg, so I try not to use them."

Delivered with a kindly smile. "Did you have a meeting of some sort to attend to? You seemed a bit in a rush."
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#5
Yes, it would be perfectly reasonable for Osvald to prefer the convenience of the elevator. Samuel had only now considered the vampire’s name. Foreign or old fashion? That seemed to be the game he would forever be playing.

"Ah, no." Samuel’s urgency had not gone unnoticed. "I always try for an empty elevator, but you are a better surprise then a human visitor."

And as if the elevator itself took offense to the answer, a worrisome screeching filled the cabin.
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#6
"Ah, I will take this as a compliment," he smiled good-naturedly, looking to the man.

Before either of them could continue on a frame of an answer, the elevator gave a rather worrisome noise.

"Oh dear," he started, concern on his face. "What do you imagine that was?"
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#7
On instinct, Samuel’s hand went to the wall, bracing for something, but unknowing of what.

The noise stopped, only to be followed by the jolt of what could be described as a rapid descent for a brief moment. The light above their head flickered once but remained on.

"I believe we’ve stopped." Samuel observed. Very peculiar, however, that the doors remained shut.
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#8
The jolt and sudden drop was startling, Drew. Luckily, Osvald didn't bloodlust immediately, but he was very much alarmed for it. Being trapped in a metal container that wouldn't open was not a very pleasant idea. A prickle of nervousness ran up the old man's spine, and he assessed what he could of the situation.

"Oh," he mumbled, looking along the corners as if there might be a secret exit hidden in one of them. "How do you... suggest we get them to open?"

Breaking them, perhaps?
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#9
 Wyatt had stopped in to the planetarium after some time away on the road. Eager to ingratiate himself, he made his way towards the elevator, as any lazy immortal being was wont to do, pressing the button to find...nothing. He frowned, hitting it again before divining that it wasn't going to work because it was broken.

 With a sniff, he was about to turn round and take the stairs when he heard a voice, faint though it was, come from inside and down. Ignoring the affront to his pride, he shouted at the closed metal doors. "Anyone down there!?"
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#10
Samuel probably should be more concerned by the situation, somewhere closer to a potential bloodlust, but with the moment passed the main emotion filling his head was one of inconvenience and resign.

Fruitlessly, Samuel hit the open door button, knowing we’ll that it would not work. Osvald asked the very question he had been thinking out loud. "We could force it open?" He replied, brows drawn together and voice gruff. Surely they had to be some solution and a quick one too. Samuel dreaded the possibility of staying here much longer.
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#11
Well — that was what Osvald had thought, too. But he wasn't entirely sure if he was just a simple type, thinking brute force to be the best option. "Here, you take this side," he offered, hobbling to the other and attempting to fit his fingers into the groove of the doors where they met in the middle.

Something filtered into the box they were trapped in, and his ears perked. "Did you hear that?" he murmured, not sure if he was simply... well, hearing things!
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#12
 Someone was definitely down there. He could hear a voice, maybe even two, the faint whispers scrabbling from below like the skitterings of mice. "Hello!?" He shouted again, not having received any encouraging response. "Press the call button!" That was what it was there for, was it not?
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#13
Samuel copied the presumably wiser Osvald. With their combined strength the door should open with no problem. He ignored the other man’s question, wanting nothing more than to escape the elevator box. Whoever was calling above could wait their turn.

Fingers digging in as deep as he could make it, Samuel gathered himself and pulled with a grunt. The door moved alright. Bending unnaturally against his vampire strength. The metal warped and snapped back, crushing into Samuel’s fingers. He yanked them back with a loud exclaim of pain, blood gushing up fro the damaged tips.

Samuel’s eyes blazed orange and his vision blurred, fangs retracting as a rushing roar filled his head.
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#14
The... call button, was that what the one speaking had said? He wasn't sure what on earth that was meant to do, but now was not the time. "Just a moment!" he called up, certain that between the two, they would get this.

Except, they did not. They instead managed to warp the doors ineffectively, and as Samuel yanked back and the unpleasant scent of dead blood welled, Osvald was now in a world of trouble. "Ah — if you could — the doors are wrecked!"

That called up, and then to the man before him.

"Samuel," he said, softly. He'd done this before. He had. He could do it again. He simply needed to remain very, very calm. And so he was, natural vampire lack of breathing lending to a stillness. But his emotions thundered up in his head, unsure if it was possible to manage this. "Look at me, Samuel."

Whether Samuel was of the mind to do so was, alas, a flip of the coin.
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#15
 Hanging up with the dominus, Wyatt returned to the unopened metal doors. It seemed hopeless but he tried the button one more time before giving up. "HOLD ON. HELP IS COMING. BEAUREGARD IS ON HIS WAY." Shouting now. With that, he went off to find the security guard, ready to addle his mind so they could solve this problem without an audience.
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#16
Samuel couldn't smell fresh blood or the acidic scent of sweat nearby and this confused him. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. His skin shifted, fingers breaking and forming into the long, spider leg-like talons the he knew well.

Only scraps of his previous conscious remained. He was in an confined space, vulnerable and very, very angry. There was another here, but without food nearby they were less a threat, but entirely unwanted. Samuel hissed lowly, his gaze calculating on the other vampire. They were speaking in quiet tones, unafraid. Unafraid?

The monster's teeth clicked, a tongue ran over them from behind. Who was this other vampire? Samuel struggled to remember.

A shout. So LOUD. From above. It grated on Samuel. Hate. Hate. Trapped. No no no!

He screeched a sound unearthly and raised a hand. The monster had forgotten the small space and the claws scraped against the metal, scoring marks into the wall.
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#17
He had the man's gaze for a moment, only to lose it again. Frustration within him beneath the exterior of calm, but there was also certainly a burgeoning lick of fear. Osvald was trapped in a box with a bloodlusted vampire who was not regarding him very kindly. He had no blood of note to offer him that wasn't undead. The idea of suggesting someone who had given into the shift was laughable.

"Samuel," he repeated again, quieter somehow than before. It was his only option, stuck here where he had been neutered from magic and no Dominus who could dead sleep himself.
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#18
 Wyatt had no knowledge of the reeling bedlam beneath his feet. Doing as the Dominus suggested, he employed a guard to trim the fat, the man standing by the now barren corridor with his back turned and his fingers hooked through his belt loops. He could do little else but wait, so he remained, leaning against the wall beside the elevator doors, anticipatory, but calm.
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#19
The shock of pain froze the monster in his rampage.

Where was he? Why was this happening? Enough awareness jolted back to give Samuel the smallest lick of control. He still felt his skin crawling, as if someone had set fire ants all over his body and they were biting, biting, biting. It hurt.

He heard a sound. A voice. A word he knew, but didn't recognize. "Wwhaatth." Garbling with narrowed eyes and even narrower patience, Samuel-the-monster hunched forward and hissed. Coherent enough to know now that they were trapped, he fanned his claws, watching for any wrong move
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#20
This was utterly terrifying. To be in so small a space, with this demon hissing and spreading his claws at him. Osvald clutched at his chest, not for the fact that his heart was doing anything, but because he was slipping.

"Samuel. Lis- listen," he started, but could not manage to get his intended attempt at suggestion out before his jaw began to unhinge. One shifting, bony hand splayed out to the other, a mirrored and equal warning as claws began to lengthen.
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#21
The thing trapped with him was expanding, no transforming into something horrid. Joints popping, bending unnaturally and elongating. Samuel stepped back on instinct to put as much distance between him and this new monstrosity.

He screeched. Why grow? Why why why? There was no room! He wanted out now. "NO." His fangs would snap, uselessly demanding the other stop, to shrink again.
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#22
While the other seemed to sink back, Osvald's mind was clouded enough to still see him as a threat — see this entire trap of an elevator as a threat. Needed to get out, needed to be free, but first of all, needed to smack this threat down.

He responded in an unintelligible groan, advancing on the other with a cruel slash outwards, intended to rake across the other dagger-fanged monster's cheek.



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#23
The blinding rage that follow the piercing sensation on his face had Samuel swinging wildly.

Razor talons bared, a full extension of the arm was too far and by a hair missed the other predator, Samuel’s claws embedding into the wall behind.


miss!

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#24
Things had fucking escalated.

If Beauregard had to knock the entire clutch into dead sleep to force these two to stop, he would do it without a second thought.

As it was, an increasing rush of both panic and absolute fury blasted into his veins.

They were in an elevator. They did not need to breathe. What on fucking earth could be enough to set them into fucking bloodlust. He would be lucky to be there fast enough to find either of them to be in one piece. One minute was enough for monsters to tear each other into unrecognizable shreds.

His response time wasn't slow, but certainly he hadn't expected a stopped elevator to be the crisis of the century.

There was a way to move quicker than driving or flight, but damned if it wasn't the absolute last resort, an absurdity that stripped dignity in favor of speed: running like some goddamn fool.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, regrettably. He had to get there in time to smash their goddamn heads together before they killed each other.


skippable, just noting he's on the way >:3

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#25
Of course, the real problem with demonic bravado was that when you were still a lame old man, you could only get so lucky. He jerked back from the other's swipe just in time, but the retaliating slash he sent out caught nothing satisfying, and on top of it, he ended up falling backwards. The woe of a permanently bad leg.


miss!

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#26
The tumble taken by the other would largely be missed by Samuel. He faced the more pressing task of prying his claws from the wall. With a final tug he was free, but out of balance.

Spinning around he faced his opponent, claws at the ready. And then he took a misstep and caught air, knees knocking together as the floor came up to greet him.



Huge miss! Embarrassing!

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#27
The floor, and Osvald, the older demon seeing the other hurtling towards him (or close enough) and reacting quite stupidly with an attempt to enclose around him in a furious grapple. It was a sloppy grip at best, claws clutching into fabric, but it wasn't like he'd had opportunity to practice his wrestling.


hit!

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#28
They were more or less a tangle of limbs now.

Samuel shirt would likely be in tatters afterward, but his mind lay only on the singular goal of gaining the upper hand, or more importantly the higher ground. Difficult to do while seated and even more so when your logical facilities were tucked far away behind hollow eyes and drooling fangs. He sent up a leg in an abysmal attempt to kick away the elder vampire. He would barely make contact.


miss

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#29
Barely, but enough that Osvald would lose any semblance of a hold on him in an effort to escape. He crawled backwards, swiping with intent at the offending leg, mostly catching pant fabric. What a mess of creatures they were!

Somewhere in his mind there was the start of an urge to pull back, but it was buried under clouds of reactionary instinct still.


miss!

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#30
At this point Samuel would be better off cutting a hole in through the bottom and leaping out. The fall would be far less painful to his pride when he returned to awareness than to continue this farce of a fight.

His clothing has gained additional arm and leg holes, but more concerning was how close the other’s claws were to the important bits. Samuel growled, pulling himself back. He lost his chance to attack, instead cutting off the fabric tying him to Osvald. The half jorts he now spotted were as big a travesty as this situation.


miss :<

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#31
When both were pulling themselves back, but not pulling themselves back, it simply amounted to two hissing demons in a cage, pressed to the walls. Still lost in the haze of bloodlust, the contorted older vampire licked his teeth, large and aching at the gums as they were.

One more sudden lunge towards the other produced no tangible offense.


miss!

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#32
He needed out. This was going nowhere and Samuel needed to be somewhere, anywhere but here. On his feet, he swung a kick at Osvald, connecting soundly. However, his true target was the crush door and with a bloodied fist he smashed in a size-able dent. One large enough to have a crack of light slipping through the door’s seam.


Hit

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