Post by Alena Wulf on Sept 7, 2007 2:16:57 GMT -5
"Jetzt Ankommen an Zurich, geht bitte vorsichtig aus. Vielen Dank fur Reisen, hat einen wunderbaren Tag. Maintenaut arriver a Zurich, sort s'il vous plait soigneusement. Merci pour voyager, avoir un jour merveilleux. Adesso arrivare a Zurich, esce per favore attentamente. Ringraziarlo per viaggiare, ha un giorno meraviglioso. Now arriving at Zurich, please exit carefully. Thank you for traveling, have a wonderful day."
As the voice on the intercom spoke, the doors of the ICE train opened, and people stood up from their seats and gathered their items to leave.
Szandor Colden, who had been occupying one of the other cars of the train, stood as everyone else did and walked out into the train station to a location that had been previously discussed. Likewise, two other pairs of Lycans who had been traveling in different train cars stood and left as the train arrived in Zurich, each taking a different route to the same location as Szandor.
Alena had taken the second car of the train.
The intercom beeped three times after the voice had spoken. Alena zipped up her black sweatshirt and reached up into the cargo rack to grab her backpack, slinging it over her left shoulder. She waited as people passed her in the aisle, and looked over into the window seat next to her where her two and a half year old daughter, Lucia, sat sleeping. It was disturbing how much that little girl resembled her father sometimes, and it hurt Alena to look at her every time.
She picked the sleeping girl up carefully, and rested the child's head on her right shoulder as she made her way out of the train, into the station.
The InterCityExpress train station at Zurich was crowded; dozens of people and couples zigzagged their way through the platform with their luggage in tow. They all seemed preoccupied and many of them walked as if they had somewhere important to go, while others were obviously tourists and were excited to get started.
Alena had been around Humans for many centuries, and knew their habits and routines. The length of time she'd been a Lycan had been more than enough for her to learn her own strengths and weaknesses, and to pick up on the habits and routines of the Werewolves as well. She had been able to hide her presence for many, many years, both from Humans, but also from Vampyres and Lycans. It was pretty simple; she just had to take away some of the intensity of her aura, the energy she had around her. She was even able to hide that subtle smell that only Vampyres or Lycans could pick up, which let them know that another animal was around. Similar to how someone with a lot of self-esteem and confidence can come off as powerful and strong to another person, Alena was able to turn off that sense that she was a Lycan to other night-creatures, and people.
So she walked boldly down the station's platform, knowing that her identity was safe. Little Lucia, although too young to hide her true hybrid nature (and yet too young to fully wield it too), would not give them away unless in a sudden tantrum.
A ragged looking middle-aged man staggered in between the people on the platform, holding out a dirty styrofoam cup. His German was hoarse and tired, but unrelenting as he inquired to each person that passed for spare change or food. His clothes were too big, and his shoe (only had one) was too small, each sported multiple holes. A prominent smell permeated off of the beggar, catching Alena's attention almost immediately after getting off of the train.
As the man and Alena came closer, he set his eyes upon her and spoke three times for spare change. The Lycan Mother looked through him with her cold blue eyes, and he instantly stepped back, as if pushed, and turned a different direction to beg for change.
Some of the people nearby spoke briefly of the man's sudden change in direction, and Lucia shifted quietly in Alena's arms.
"Ein Schrei wird zum Himmel fahren. Schneidet sich durch Engelsscharen. Vom Wolkendach fallt Federfleisch AUF MEINE KINDHEIT MIT GEKREISCH!" ((A cry will ascend to Heaven. It will cut through hosts of Angels. Feather-flesh will shriekingly fall from the top of the clouds onto my childhood!)) The beggar's shouts echoed through the platform and turned into a brief blood-curdling snort, and then into agonized grunts.
Everywhere along the platform, people gasped and pointed at the beggar, some shouted for help while others cried.
His form was even more ragged than before, hunched over himself on the ground. There was blood all around him, and staining his hands and arms. In the light, and as he moved, blood poured from his face, where he continually brought his hands to. He stopped for a moment and dropped his hands to the ground, a small, roundish object falling from his grasp. The sound he made was a haggard laugh, but filled in pain, and he grimaced at his audience, turning toward Alena. The beggar had successfully ripped his right eye out of its socket and from the optic nerve which had kept it attached. The left eye was glazed over in blood while the skin around it was severely blackened by bruises.
Alena turned to the beggar as everyone else did, and looked down at him with no emotion.
As the voice on the intercom spoke, the doors of the ICE train opened, and people stood up from their seats and gathered their items to leave.
Szandor Colden, who had been occupying one of the other cars of the train, stood as everyone else did and walked out into the train station to a location that had been previously discussed. Likewise, two other pairs of Lycans who had been traveling in different train cars stood and left as the train arrived in Zurich, each taking a different route to the same location as Szandor.
Alena had taken the second car of the train.
The intercom beeped three times after the voice had spoken. Alena zipped up her black sweatshirt and reached up into the cargo rack to grab her backpack, slinging it over her left shoulder. She waited as people passed her in the aisle, and looked over into the window seat next to her where her two and a half year old daughter, Lucia, sat sleeping. It was disturbing how much that little girl resembled her father sometimes, and it hurt Alena to look at her every time.
She picked the sleeping girl up carefully, and rested the child's head on her right shoulder as she made her way out of the train, into the station.
The InterCityExpress train station at Zurich was crowded; dozens of people and couples zigzagged their way through the platform with their luggage in tow. They all seemed preoccupied and many of them walked as if they had somewhere important to go, while others were obviously tourists and were excited to get started.
Alena had been around Humans for many centuries, and knew their habits and routines. The length of time she'd been a Lycan had been more than enough for her to learn her own strengths and weaknesses, and to pick up on the habits and routines of the Werewolves as well. She had been able to hide her presence for many, many years, both from Humans, but also from Vampyres and Lycans. It was pretty simple; she just had to take away some of the intensity of her aura, the energy she had around her. She was even able to hide that subtle smell that only Vampyres or Lycans could pick up, which let them know that another animal was around. Similar to how someone with a lot of self-esteem and confidence can come off as powerful and strong to another person, Alena was able to turn off that sense that she was a Lycan to other night-creatures, and people.
So she walked boldly down the station's platform, knowing that her identity was safe. Little Lucia, although too young to hide her true hybrid nature (and yet too young to fully wield it too), would not give them away unless in a sudden tantrum.
A ragged looking middle-aged man staggered in between the people on the platform, holding out a dirty styrofoam cup. His German was hoarse and tired, but unrelenting as he inquired to each person that passed for spare change or food. His clothes were too big, and his shoe (only had one) was too small, each sported multiple holes. A prominent smell permeated off of the beggar, catching Alena's attention almost immediately after getting off of the train.
As the man and Alena came closer, he set his eyes upon her and spoke three times for spare change. The Lycan Mother looked through him with her cold blue eyes, and he instantly stepped back, as if pushed, and turned a different direction to beg for change.
Some of the people nearby spoke briefly of the man's sudden change in direction, and Lucia shifted quietly in Alena's arms.
"Ein Schrei wird zum Himmel fahren. Schneidet sich durch Engelsscharen. Vom Wolkendach fallt Federfleisch AUF MEINE KINDHEIT MIT GEKREISCH!" ((A cry will ascend to Heaven. It will cut through hosts of Angels. Feather-flesh will shriekingly fall from the top of the clouds onto my childhood!)) The beggar's shouts echoed through the platform and turned into a brief blood-curdling snort, and then into agonized grunts.
Everywhere along the platform, people gasped and pointed at the beggar, some shouted for help while others cried.
His form was even more ragged than before, hunched over himself on the ground. There was blood all around him, and staining his hands and arms. In the light, and as he moved, blood poured from his face, where he continually brought his hands to. He stopped for a moment and dropped his hands to the ground, a small, roundish object falling from his grasp. The sound he made was a haggard laugh, but filled in pain, and he grimaced at his audience, turning toward Alena. The beggar had successfully ripped his right eye out of its socket and from the optic nerve which had kept it attached. The left eye was glazed over in blood while the skin around it was severely blackened by bruises.
Alena turned to the beggar as everyone else did, and looked down at him with no emotion.
