The view across the lake really is nice, even this late at night -- the moonlight illuminates it well enough. And presently, one of the things it illuminates is Serendipity, sitting on the end of the dock with his legs crossed so as to keep them out of the water, and singing quietly to himself. Something about a dock and a bay, appropriately enough.

The crystal-sharp quiet of the night is broken quite rudely by the sounds of someone stomping through the icy vegetation, snarling profanities. It's not hard to determine, by the sound of the voice and that slight tang of an East Coast accent, who it is. Tristan's not making any effort to move with care, as he crashes through some bushes and onto the lakeshore near the dock.

Serendipity breaks off, turning to the sound, and grins, rising to his feet, as he places the voice. And the profanities. "Yo, Tristan!" he greets, strolling toward the sound of the vampire, "...'swrong? I thought you guys were s'posta be all =stealthy= in the night." Because when a guy's stomping around swearing, what he really needs is to be teased!

"Fucking shithole town, fucking snow, fucking mountain, fuck!" Tristan's raving, not quite acknowledging Ren's presence, although his eyes flick to Ren with a hint of recognition. In one flicker of motion he drops to a crouch, plucks up a fist-sized stone, and hurls it out over the lake with all his strength. It flies a good way in a graceful shallow arch, landing on the frozen lake with a crack. "Fuck," Tristan adds, conversationally.

"Sure," Ren replies agreeably, "...my place or yours? Or there's always right here..." He wanders over beside the vampire, hands in his pockets, moonlight glimmering off his grin. "Nice t' see you, too." One hand emerges long enough to ruffle Tristan's hair, since it's so conveniently in range. "Havin' a bad day, are we?"

"More like a bad /goddamn/ life," Tristan growls, staring off at the moonlight glimmering off the lake's icy surface. He flinches badly when Ren touches his hair, cringing and skittering away.

Serendipity blinks at the flinch, taken aback. "...hey," he says, quieter, "not gonna hurt you or anything... man, even if I =wanted= to, you could totally kick my ass. Relax, yeah?" He takes a couple steps closer to Tristan again, slow and non-aggressive, like approaching a feral animal, and crouches down beside him, studying his face. "'sup to make it suck so bad t'day, tall-pale-'n'-fascinatin'?"

Tristan resembles a feral animal more than a little, at the moment. His eyes are wide and not entirely there, staring at Ren with a blank intensity, his long white bangs falling into his face. Crouched and tense, he's still, his hands poised lightly on the frozen ground. He holds the pose for one minute, two, three. Then, very slowly, he begins to unwind a little, some of his tension leaving him, and he blinks, a measure of comprehension coming back into his eyes.

"...there," Ren murmurs, having stayed silent and still the entire time -- which most people in town would probably find difficult to believe, but there you go -- "...that's better, yeah? Absolutely not gonna hurt you..." He waits until more of the comprehension returns before he asks, "..so whatsamatta, cutie?"

Tristan mutters, "Bad dreams." He rubs his hands over his face, scrubs through his hair, pulling it back so that his whole scalp shifts backwards a bit. "Been in one place too long. Gettin' to me." He glances at Ren, apologetically.

Serendipity grins a little. "...yeah, know how that is. I've actually been thinkin' about trying to take a little vacation out somewhere, just for a change of scenery and all. Wanna come with, if I do?"

Tristan flicks Ren a look full of thinly veiled despair. "Can't," he says shortly, dropping his gaze back to the ground. "I wanna. But I can't."

Serendipity tilts his head at Tristan, brow furrowing slightly. "How come? Don't mind traveling at night, and it's not like you wouldn't have anything to eat..." Faint smile, there. "So what's the problem?"

Tristan shakes his head, popping to his feet with a motion like an uncoiling spring. "Don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles, his hair nearly obscuring his eyes. "Forget about it. Maybe I'll come along, hey?" He offers Ren a fragile grin. "Sorry to freak out on ya, there... "

Serendipity stands as well, a rather more smoothly measured motion, and returns the grin, almost shyly. He shrugs. "No prob. Hey, you didn't flee this time, right? Anyway, you wanna talk about it later, lemme know. I'm a nosy bastard." Another bit of a grin. "...prolly don't wanna tell me what the dreams were about either, yeah?"

The quiet of the wintry wee hours is suddenly shattered by a flurry of terrified small furry life -- those that don't sleep for the winter, the rabbits and rats and other rodentia -- breaking out of a nearby ruined house and disappearing into another yard. The silence returns, ominously.

"Shit that's been done seventy years gone." Tristan tries to say this lightly, accompanied by a blithe wave of a hand, but it doesn't come out right. No sooner has he spoken, though, when the small tenants of the house vacate their home hastily, and the noise and sudden motion makes him spring backwards in terror, claws *schlick*ing out of his fingertips.

Serendipity goes alert, too, though he's got no fingernails to schlick. His hands come out of his pockets, instead, one creeping into his coat. He studies the suddenly more vacant house a moment. "...wanna check it out?"

There is someone watching. Intently. It's almost as though the person's gaze is palpable on your skins.

"Stay back," Tristan tells Ren, pacing forward now with an eerily liquid glide, his eyes on the ruins of the house like a ferret on a rabbit--or maybe like a sparrow on a snake. "Don't get too close. If somethin' pops out, run, and don't look back." He advances slowly, sidling, teeth gritted. There's a lamentable lack of immediate shadows, so he remains in full view.

Serendipity follows, but obediently stays a bit back -- though whether he'll follow the rest of the instructions if needed remains to be seen. He pads along quietly, though no graceful glide for him, and watches, though his attention is near equally divided between their destination and the vampire himself.

Cold arms close like vises around Ren, one frigid hand laid along his cheek in a perfect position to snap his neck at a second's notice. "How very charming," says a raspy voice even colder than those limbs. "How very *protective*." Ren is pressed tightly to the torso of a man about six inches taller than he is. A tattered cloak blows in the wind behind and around them. Glowing coal-eyes glower over Ren's head at Tristan.

Tristan whips around on his heel, his eyes flaring a dark sanguine red and his lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarling hiss. He freezes for a split second, eyes widening as he takes in the man gripping Ren, then spits, "Who th'fuck're YOU? Let'im go!"

Serendipity squeaks. He's fairly =good= at being alert, and this is decidedly unexpected. Not to say distressing. He recovers quickly, though, if not particularly usefully. "No offense, dude, but I don't think you're my type," he remarks to his captor, shifting slightly to test how much give there might be in that grip.

There is absolutely no give to the grip. The man stands in an unnaturally solid and still way, too. No heartbeat, no body heat. One does not need to see the lengthy dagger-like fangs that slip past his lip as he smiles at Tristan icily. "I am Faro," he says. "And I think that I am not inclined to let him go." There is a very slight accent there, not enough to be easily identified. "Granted, I admit that he is not the one I have come for." Clouds race by overhead, allowing the full Luna to shine down, limning the noble profile of the vampire in silver.

Tristan sucks on one of his own extended fangs, eyeing the dark vampire. "Awright, well, now we know what we got to work with," he says, dryly. "I guess it's my job here ta ask what ya /do/ want." He's rocking from side to side, very subtly, very gently, shifting his weight from foot to foot almost imperceptably. He doesn't dare look at Ren.

Well. Now Ren's met =two= vampires. And he's kinda wishing it were still back at one. "I guess it's my job here t' look pretty and helpless," he mutters, doing well enough at it whether he wants to or not. No point trying to bring a foot up into his captor's crotch, not if this guy's like Tristan in that respect, at least... He waits, for now.

The vampire Faro continues to smile, eyes locked with Tristan even as he bends his head to sniff delicately at Ren's throat, using his grip to stretch the Kinfolk's neck appetizingly. "I am here for you," he says simply after this pause. "I have been watching you for some time now. This seemed like the least... messy means of getting what I want."

Tristan gives Faro a somewhat offended, puzzled look. "Exsqueeze me? I must got fuckin wax in my ears or somethin because I coulda sworn you said you were after /me/."

You paged Weatherwax with 'Hey. I'm touching this guy, technically, yeah?'.
From afar, Weatherwax nodsnods.
You paged Weatherwax with 'A CURSE BE UPON HIS HEAD! ...and the rest of him, too. >:) (In other words, I attempt to attach GM-determined bad luck to the guy. ;))'.

"That's what I heard, too," Ren agrees helpfully, looking a bit uncomfortable at the unwanted attention to his neck. A thought passes briefly across his face, then a moment of concentration, eyes narrowed.

From afar, Weatherwax okies! :)
You paged Weatherwax with '...and hey, good luck to me, since I think the way he's holding me I'm touching myself, too. :)'.
From afar, Weatherwax ew, touching himself at a time like this! ;)
You paged Weatherwax with 'Hey, a guy's gotta keep himself in hand... ;)'.
You paged Weatherwax with '....'If I'm gonna die, I wanna die =happy=!' ;)'.
From afar, Weatherwax | Sia, looking over Granny's shoulder, personally delivers Serendipity a bar of soap. "Wash out that filthy brain!" ;)
Long distance to Weatherwax: Serendipity laughs! :D

Faro sighs extravagantly and straightens up, although he keeps Ren's neck extended. "Yes, you. Despite your evident... low class, you can yet serve a greater purpose. You should consider yourself to be privileged." He frowns and winces so very slightly that only Ren can feel it, and he lets his fangs slip back out of sight while removing his lower lip from the tip of one of them. Then shakes his head and refocuses on Tristan. "So, do you agree, then, Sun-slave? His life for yours?"

Tristan's expression hardens, his thin lips twisting. He's not looking into Faro's eyes (not that such a precaution would help, mostly likely, but you never know). His clawed fingers twitch. "Why do I have the feeling that y'aren't real happy about Helios walkin the sky again," he mutters. "Okay. I can tell y'aint' fuckin around. If that's how it's gonna be, it's how it's gonna be. Fine. Agreed. My worthless carcass is yours. Now let the mortal go, huh? He's too pretty to kill."

Serendipity blinks, and looks rather apologetic toward Tristan -- as best he can, considering. "...thanks," he replies, with the faintest of weak smiles, then tries addressing his captor, "But, c'mon, doesn't the hostage get a say here? Or something? I mean, what kind of trade is that? I've got a lot less life than he does. Don't think it's reasonable to ask for more'n eighty years or so from him..."

Faro sneers slightly at Tristan. "Toreador sentiments. They'll just get you driven into sunbeams artistically." Then he tightens his grip on Ren just enough to be a little painful. "Ah, but my dear little mortal, you see that he knows that it isn't just *your* petty life at stake, but every mortal in this town. You are merely a symbol." With that, he lofts Ren off the dock onto the ice-covered lake, where Ren, by some miracle, doesn't immediately plunge through, but bounces painfully off an incredibly thick patch of ice. Faro, meanwhile, approaches Tristan and licks his lips. "The master will be quite pleased with you, I think."

Tristan grins uncontrollably as Faro approaches him, less a grin than a feral rictus. "Aw, shit, lil ol me? Your master likes th' clanless, does he?" His eyes dart from Ren, trying to see if he's okay, to the advancing vampire.

Long distance to Weatherwax: Serendipity wonders, idly, if he can find anything handy in his coat. Like a flamethrower. Or holy water balloons. *^_^*
From afar, Weatherwax doubts that there would be a flamethrower! :) But thinks that it's reasonable for him to find one of the little, square, perfume-bottle-shaped flasks of holy water.
You paged Weatherwax with '...can I find a stake, too?'.
Weatherwax pages: Oh, sure.
You paged Weatherwax with 'Oh, good. (We're so gonna die! :))'.

"...ow!" comes drifting back through the air toward the vampires, as Serendipity pushes himself up to his feet, and half walks, half skates back toward the dock, looking unusually close to annoyed. He rummages in his coat as he goes, eyes narrowed, and comes up with a small flask of some kind in one hand, and something else in the other, though that one stays shrouded by his coat as he strides -- a touch painfully -- back to the pair.

Faro has, apparently, dismissed Ren out of hand at this point and is entirely focused upon Tristan. "My master likes the taste of Kindred blood, my young friend, clanless or no. In fact, he requires it." His hand closes on Tristan's shirt and twists the fabric for a firmer grip, bringing them virtually nose-to-nose. "He requires *you*."

Tristan closes his eyes, refusing to look Faro in the eye, still grinning like a madman. "Take it that he's not gonna eat me all at one go, seein' as if he's stoopin' to me, he's short on milchcows. Yeah? Cuz, if this is a one-way trip, I might object."

Serendipity lets his approach slow slightly, and limps a bit more obviously. Oh, poor wounded mortal. They're so delicate, aren't they? Just toss 'em a few hundred feet and they get all busted up. Ren keeps going nonetheless. Almost there, now...

Long distance to Weatherwax: Serendipity is, btw, so trying to give himself good luck again. *^_^*
From afar, Weatherwax nods.

Faro shrugs with one shoulder. "The master may choose to keep you or consume you, I can't tell." He snorts. "You could always try playing an Arabian Nights storytelling game with him. Perhaps you could amuse him."

Tristan smirks, risking opening his eyes. "P'raps I can--" He glimpses Ren out of the corner of his eye, and glances that way. Ren is on his feet, good. Ren's also...oh, no, this is bad. Tristan squirms, speaking silent, broken beast-speech with body language alone. No, no, do not, run, run to den.

Serendipity doesn't understand beastspeech, but he does understand attention drawn to him is bad, at this juncture. Oh well... it's banzai time, apparently. He flips the cork out of the flask with his thumb and splashes the contents hopefully into the nasty vampire's face, hoping Tristan can avoid the stuff... and that Faro'll be distracted enough to accept the gift of a stake through the heart. Optimism, thy name is Ren.

Chaos ensues. Most of the holy water -- which is apparently some kickin' stuff -- hits Faro in the face. Some splashes Tristan, but only a bit. Faro reacts by roaring and flinging Tristan away to crash through the wall of the nearby, ramshackle, abandoned house. The smoking vampire hisses, fangs extended, claws extended, turning on Ren... only to receive the stake squarely in the chest. Faro pauses, looking down at the stake embedded between his ribs, at the hand that put it there, and then follows the arm up to Ren's face. He grins, toothily, and snarls, "You missed."

Tristan claws his frantic way out of the rubble, looking somewhat the worse for wear, bellowing, "REN YOU STUPID MOTHERFUC--" he cuts off abruptly, his eyes going wide, then hastily scoops up snow to plaster on the splashed parts of himself, scrubbing the holy water away or at least hopefully diluting it because oh boy, does that hurt. "Leave 'im be, Faro, it was my life for his!"

Serendipity meets Faro's eyes, for a split second, and follows the gaze down to the hand. "...Well, fuck," he remarks, and then he's gone, darting down and away, toward the vampire's back, as he shoves the hand with the flask back into his coat, and comes out with a lighter, thrusting the flame toward that tattered cloak -- and anything else on him it can get, for that matter.

Faro, ignoring Tristan's complaints, snarls awfully at the appearance of the lighter flame. He yanks the stake out of his chest and flips it at Ren. The wood impales itself in the meat of Ren's upper arm -- the arm holding the lighter. The vampire says, "You are far more of a pest than you are wo--" And suddenly, the wood of the dock gives way underneath his step forward. With a short exclamation of something that sounds pretty appalled and scatological in whatever language it was in, he plunges through the dock and, from the sound of it, through the ice below it, into the lake.

Tristan blinks. Then he's bounding towards the dock, his face lit up with a kind of hysterical hilarity. His cheek and shoulder smoke where the little bit of holy water hit him, and he's battered from his trip through the wall, but not too badly. "You're a fucking moron! Run, for Gaia's sake, get the fuck out of here! I'll wait for him, mebbe I can talk him into not huntin ya down! I fucking mean it Ren, don't make me make you!"

"Dude, he wants his boss to =eat= you!" Ren protests, wincing considerably as he holds his impaled arm, hand around the wound -- which is, of course, bleeding impressively. "Can't we just KILL the fucker? A nice permanent way? Will he freeze in there? How about if I burn the dock? Can I burn the dock?" Someone's not happy. At all.

There is no sign of a returning vampire as yet.

"No we CAN'T!" Tristan yells, then pauses, and adds in a normal tone, "Though you did real good. But FUCK, I'm not going to work for him just so you can torment him into killing you ANYWAY!"

"But if we =killed= him you wouldn't =have= to go work for him 'cause he'd be =dead=! Again!" Serendipity points out, and adds in a much less emphatic tone himself, "...and thanks. ...Ow."

Tristan eyes the frozen lake warily, plainly expecting Faro to rise in wrath from it at any moment. "Y'surprised him. It was real good, I mean it, it was real well done. But you couldn't've killed him. Maybe if Gaia's gracious he'll freeze in the lake till spring. Y'gotta trust me on this, Ren, I know vampires." He looks back at Ren, pleading suddenly, and steps to Ren's side and clamps his hand around the pierced arm. "Let's find ya a wolf with the Touch."

Serendipity glances back at the lake, and his eyes say 'but, but!' -- but his mouth doesn't. He winces a little at the grip on his wounded arm, and nods. "...yeah, a'ight. I'll take your word for it. Plus... if Gaia's gracious we can come back 'n' finish it later. With better supplies, 'n' all." He pauses, looking at Tristan's cheek, and adds, sincerely, "...sorry 'bout the holy water. ....hey." A shift of position, and he leans in, trying to give Tristan a kiss. Rather more tentative about it than he might've been if the hair-ruffling hadn't gone over so strangely today.

Tristan permits the kiss, bowing his head. "Yeah," he says gruffly, then grins suddenly. "Where'd you get that stuff? The fuckin True Vatican? Don't sweat it, it'll be good by tomorrow night. C'mon." His hand tight on Ren's arm, he puts his other arm around Ren's back to lead him into town.

"Thanks for... y'know." Ren grins back, and leans into the arm a little for support, letting himself be led. It's hurting rather more as the adrenaline rush ebbs and the stake through the arm gets more insistent about its presence. "...as far's the water... remind me to introduce you properly t'my coat, sometime soon..."

Tristan eyes said garment, his arm around Ren with the weirdly unyielding pressure that now, perhaps Ren knows, is common to all vampires. "Yeah, okay," he says, dubiously.

Serendipity looks down at the stake, regretful, "...I can't believe he ripped my coat. We need to kill him a LOT." He shakes his head, and then staggers slightly, suddenly faint. "...but first, the fixing my arm. Right. ...prolly best if you lead."

Tristan grunts. "Do ya one better." He half crouches, gets his arm behind Ren's knees, and scoop! Ren is now being carried, the staked arm on the outside. "Now don't get any ideas," the vampire adds with a lopsided smile, as he strides for town. "I don't wanna go pickin' out curtains or anything."

"Somethin' in a heavy black drape, I'd expect," Serendipity replies lightheaded-dreamily, and shifts his healthy arm around the vampire's neck for balance. "...about three feet bigger'n the window in every direction." He grins crookedly. "And no worries, man. I'm all outta ideas for t'night." And chatter, too, apparently, as the usual loquaciousness subsides into quietude for the night.