You Called, Madame? - Creator's Workshop

The vulture was a bit out of place for the states. Nevertheless, it barreled into the workshop, injured, breaking the glass of a window upstairs and rolling to stop in the Caitiff's apartment.

What on Earth?
The Caitiff, sitting in the first floor workshop, quickly put her work away and hurried up the stairs at the sound of something breaking and tumbling about. The door to the small apartment being thrown open only to find... a bird? A vulture even. Something which had her briefly stopping in her tracks.

"You.." it had to be a "you" right? There weren't vultures around there... right? Well regardless, her first instinct was to grab the nearest piece of fabric, which in this case meant the coffee table linen had to be sacrificed and moved to the injured bird's side.
"Easy there..." how the fuck did you talk to a bird... assuming it wasn't a Gangrel...

Pretty please don't be here to eat me...

Half of the left wing was just plain missing. As if something had ripped it off. Bones were cracked and protruding, though there was little blood. It's beak was cracked, it's eyes gouged.

When Teddy went to it's side, it screeched. A warning. And then the bird began to shift back into a man. All of the injuries corresponded accordingly to the human form and Toulouse was dazed, his fangs extended.

"Reculez, s'il vous plaît ... doit se nourrir ... Il faut nourrir ..."

Oh dear God...

Did she have anything at all he could drink?
The Caitiff, taking the warning for what it was, pressed her back to the wall and slipped past him to the kitchen corner, quickly rummaging through the fridge in search of something he could drink. Blood, did she have any kind of blood....

A bottle!
It was snatched and the cork pulled free before quickly holding it out to the injured Gangrel.
"Blood, untainted.." she replied in the same language, knowing damn well the bottle didn't hold that much but, it was something. It was either that or...

He was getting to his feet, or at least, trying to. Toulouse stumbled toward Teddy, reaching for the bottle. He was able to grab it, but he swayed. He was completely disoriented, that much was clear. Perhaps there was something more than just the physical going on?

But he drank. He drank the contents of the bottle as quickly as he could and soon the smaller wounds were just gone. But he was having trouble focusing his vision.

"Dey... coming. So say what ya 'ave to say now. 'Cuz dere comin'."

She seemed to pale. Though, wouldn't you if an Ancient Gangrel came crashing through you window all wounded and beat to a pulp, saying "they are coming"? Whoever the Hell "they" where...

The blond though, moving on instinct again, moved to steady him, caring little if she got blood on her clothes as she meat to move him to the bed so he could sit. Bonus of having a tiny apartment? Two steps to the left or right was the difference between the kitchen and the living room.

"Who? Who're coming? What's going on Toulouse?"

"Da nomads... Da nomads be comin'. Found dem in da state of Georgia. Went to warn dat baron wit dat stupid hat," he did sit, cracking the muscles in his neck. "Dey be Panders. Sabbat. And dey be pissed, mon."

Oh no... no no no...

"Sabbat...." and for a moment, she seemed to stagger herself as she moved a hand to her head though, given the situation, she couldn't really focus on her own faltering balance. "How many....? To do that...?" the blond asked as she motioned towards his missing and an just, well, fuck it the floor by the bed was fine. She dropped down on her knees so she was leaning against the side of the bed at the moment, looking up at him.

"Shit.... shit, we have to warn Jamie and the Court.... and we need to get you healed I" she looked a bit desperate to be honest. "I don't got anymore blood here all, all I got is..." the blond looked up at him. All she had was her...

"I can feed on my own, mon cher," he nodded. "I 'ave to tell Rourke."

"Alex..." she nodded slowly at first before she was forcing herself back to her feet. "I got his number... you can call him from here" the blond said as she opened the door to the bathroom, quickly retrieving a towel and soaking it before snatching what was probably a change of clothes belonging to Medwyn and returning to Toulouse.

What more, she also grabbed a few roll of gauze from the fist aid kit she kept tucked in under the sink in the bathroom.
"Here" she slipped the phone from her pocket and brought up Alex' number. "Let me get Jamie..." Teddy said as she moved as if to get the torn clothes off him. Seemed she wanted to wipe the blood away, bandage up the worst of the injuries and then get him into a fresh change of clothes. If for nothing else then because he would look less like a Masquerade breach later.
"I can keep you two connected telepathically while you get a hold of Rourke" though. "If you'll allow me to" because she didn't like poking at people's minds without permission.

He stared at the phone. Really stared.

"What's dat?"

"It's...." oh Hell, Ancient Gangrel. The toymaker simply picked a pair of scissors from her leather apron, because while working she really was a walking human (kinda) Swizz army knife, and simply wet about cutting off the torn and shredded and let's face it, bloody shirt he was wearing. If he was going to protest? Well, too late really.
"A telephone. If you tap your finger on the screen where the green symbol is it will connect to Alex' phone and you'll be able to speak with each other"

Toulouse didn't protest at all. He was simply staring, maybe he wasn't all there. His eyes clouded over, but his fingers didn't move to the phone at all.

The lights were on but no one was home.

You know what? Fuck the phone.
She took it from his hand and placed it on the bed as the rest of the now most definitively dead shirt was removed and tossed aside.

"We'll call in a minute. There's no point calling if you're not here to explain" she said simply, even as her mind reached out for Jamie* while deft hands continued to move, taking the soaked towel and starting to clean the blood off of him so she could set about bandaging the worst of the wounds next.



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*pm sent

"Can't fly... Can't fly..."

It was the only words she'd understand. He began speaking in an ancient tongue, Germanic in nature, but so very different. He was blinking his eyes and scratching at his ears with his one hand.

Damn it... damn it damn it damn it.... Oh God she hoped Jamie could hear her, that he wouldn't shut her out.

"Toulouse.. please?" her voice changed to French again, gentle hands moving to cup his face, to turn him towards her so that she could meet his eyes. "Please, you're safe. You're with me..." please be home...

If she thought about it... Where was the snake? Where was his blue snake? She hadn't slither out of a pant leg. She hadn't heard the hissing...

Toulouse was on a path, that much was certain. And now, as she took his face in her hands and tried to speak to him, he seemed to focus on her.

And his fangs extended.

Oh, the snake. The snake! And then there was fangs.... Fuck!

She didn't want to die...

With his one hand, he grabbed her by the throat, very near the verge of frenzy. This wasn't Toulouse, something was very obviously wrong.

And then he simply stopped moving and slumped forward, his hand coming off of her throat.

She actually caught him as he fell, though, her breathing, unneeded as it was, was trembling and shallow even as her arms wrapped around him to keep him from falling. The Caitiff instead, leaning over to lay him down gently on the bed. Finding that despite her best effort? Her hands were shaking.

"I'm so sorry...." she whispered, needing a moment before reaching for the towel again. He... well, it seemed to have worked, so, he ought to be able to hear her still.
"This isn't you... and I'm sorry Toulouse... but I don't want to die... and I don't think you want to kill me" she continued to wipe him down, drying off the blood before reaching for the bandages and going about bandaging up well, most of his torso most likely and his torn off arm. At least she could make sure the bleeding stopped.
"I'm not leaving you here though. I'm getting the Prince. I'm getting Mister Rourke. The Sheriff and the Scourge. Alright?" not as if he could answer that but yeah.

She picked up the phone and sent out a few hurried texts before slumping down onto the edge of the bed next to him. Hands still trembling.

Where was the snake? What had they done to him? Damn it...

The text messages sent, she turned to look at Toulouse's quiet form again. Maybe....

The blond could at least try.

"Toulouse... can you hear me?" the quiet words reached from her mind, trying to reach his.

The language in his head was the same one she didn't recognize. But he was in utter torment. But she did recognize one word, that he seemed to be repeating.

Angel... Angel!

->continued