[[[NOTE: This is about a week after Delia's fight with Fehade, and it's being done as a plot point for both characters.]]]

Sherise stuck out like a sore thumb. She was down in the dock district, not a place someone like her would normally be, ESPECIALLY considering she was wearing a MASSIVE departure from her normal attire.

Her dress was a slinky, off-the-shoulder number, something that a whore would normally wear, but that she wore without seeming like a whore. Dangling from her ears were the very earrings given to her by Lilith two weeks before, blood red stones and gold remarkable against her pale skin.

She was here for one reason, and one reason only. The women in these parts provided the most tasty meal she had ever had, and they were easy to lure into any trap that she might set.

But one thing she hadn't calculated on was that three of the ships that made port here would have put in, and made a MASSIVE cargo offload. In short, an OVERLOAD of drunk sailors.

One of which was foolish enough to accost her in a way that sparked her anger massively. His hand grasped at her, and she turned her head slightly. "Can I help you? Remove your hand."

Ah, don't get so uppity, pretty one. I just want a good time, and so do me mates, he said, gesturing over his shoulder.

Something snapped, and there was a ring of steel and a wet thud. The other sailors were now staring fixedly at the jagged blade sprouting from their leader's back. "No one takes from me what I don't offer freely," she hissed, and then with a wrench, ripped the blade from his gut and severed his neck, his head landing in the water.

Now that the blade was drawn, the scabbard could be seen crosswise on her back, where it had blended so well with the fabric of her dress.

She turned, and glowered. "You all will die here this night. Now run. Make this fun for me," she said as they scattered to the four winds, running to get away from this monster before them.

Usually, Cordelia stayed clear out of Taras. She hated the city – it was filthy, filled with people that were more like scum than living beings, and overall just revolting. However, tonight, it was the perfect place to go to. Her mind wasn’t entirely with her, more obsessed with the need for blood than anything else. For the most part, any side of her that was logical had melted away, though some parts lingered just enough for her to know where she was going and what was going on around her. Besides that, every fiber of her being screamed – yearned – for death and destruction and to bloody her hands like she had never done before.

She was no longer blind. No longer did she need to wear a cloth over her eyes; no longer did she need Emeric to guide her wherever she went. She was finally free from herself and could do whatever she pleased once more! There were still patches of gray and red on the little bit of skin that could be seen, what with the conservative clothing she wore, marks of the burns still there but not enough to hinder her any longer. The most distinguishing thing about her now was her eyes, though. While she was no longer blind, they were not exactly as they had once been. Instead of a crystallized, stormy blue, a ruby red had taken up residence. In time she was sure it would go away and return to normal, but for now, she didn’t care. As long as she could see, she was fine.

Her red jacket was wet, stained already from her previous violent acts that evening. Cordelia had wandered, going anywhere her feet led her and slaughtering whatever came into her path, whether it had been an animal or a human. She was so clouded that she didn’t even remember the details. All she knew was that she had killed and would continue to do so until she dropped from exhaustion.

As she came into the Taras docks, she stopped and pulled back a little bit, a wide smirk forming on her mouth. She almost started laughing, but held back, watching Sherise as she decapitated the man. She knew this part of town… she rarely came here, just because of the sailors. She knew she never had to worry about getting taken advantage of, but she wouldn’t allow them to have their chance. Tonight, she was going to kill them, just for the sake of doing it and because they had dared to take Sherise as a whore. Perhaps they weren’t exactly what a person would classify as friends, but for just one night, they were close enough to be considered such a thing. For just one night, Cordelia could take the time to help someone, even if her own selfish reasons were buried beneath the surface.

"You all will die here this night. Now run. Make this fun for me."

As soon as the sailors ran off, she finally allowed her laughter to sound, unsheathing her sword and grabbing the arm of a man who hadn’t even seen her as he ran past. She threw him to the ground and stepped on his chest, the tip of her sword pointed right at his throat. She glared down at the man before lifting her eyes to look at the other woman. “Run? You wanted them to run, Sherise? Now darling, you should know to just take them as they stand… they run and yet you don’t go after them… treat them like the mice they are and kill them as soon as they come into your sight.” With that, she looked at the man beneath her feet and sliced his throat, before kicking him in the ribs and stabbing him through the chest multiple times. She laughed all the while, getting to the point where it was hurting her ribs to do so. “You shouldn’t have told them to run… not after they touched you like that… let’s go after them, shall we? Kill each and every one until none of them remain… oooh…” Her laughing only became louder, making her sound almost insane. But Cordelia was enjoying herself… maybe a bit too much, but she was enjoying herself all the same.

Sherise smiled. "Ah. Hello there, little sister," she said, a flicker of flame snaking out and slicing one of the sailors who had thought he could hide behind crates right in half before he even had a chance to move. "Fancy seeing you here," she said, the bloodlust in her eyes matching that in Delia's perfectly.

"No, Delia. I let them go for a reason," she said, wiping the blood from her blade on the shirt of the sailor she had decapitated. "There's nothing more pleasing to me than the thrill of the hunt. For instance. I can tell you right now, just from the stench of alcohol, that three of them at the least have taken refuge on their ship, and think that we won't come onto it," she said, gesturing to one of the ships. "But of course, we won't have to." The fiery lash darted out, setting a sail alight, where the flames quickly leaped down to the deck of the ship, and then spread until no one could possibly have escaped the blaze.

She smiled darkly. "Shall we hunt them down together then?" she said, gesturing to the open city. Between the two of them, nothing could escape them, no matter how hard it tried. This night would be a night of blood and retribution and flame. Much like a night that would be coming very soon, when Theron felt the wrath that he had coming for running away from her the way he had.

"Ah. Hello there, little sister."

Cordelia’s laughter ceased all too easily when she heard that term used. “We’re not related,” she snapped, her chest heaving. “Don’t insist on calling me that.” For the most part, Cordelia was indifferent toward Sherise, but if she became too much of an annoyance then she would do away with her. She had no problem killing her if she got in the way. It was only more glorious blood to be spilled.

"No, Delia. I let them go for a reason."

A low growl emitted from her throat when she was given yet another nickname. Her eyes flicked to look at the ship, listening in silence as the older woman spoke. Cordelia was becoming restless; standing there with nothing to do… she had to keep moving. She had to keep killing. She didn’t want to waste her time. The fire brought an uneasy pit into her stomach and she looked away, trying to slow down her breathing. The air burned her throat slightly and caused her ribs to ache momentarily as her chest expanded, but she paid no mind to it. “It would have been more fun to see their faces,” she said dryly, turning to look at the ship one last time before dismissing it entirely.

"Shall we hunt them down together then?"

She didn’t even hesitate before pulling her sword clean out of him, swiping her hand along the blade without injuring herself and licking the blood off of her hand. She grinned and turned to look at the city before taking a few short strides to reach Sherise’s side. “Let’s go… it won’t be hard to find them.” Without even waiting, Cordelia walked off. It was apparent that she was impatient, just by the way that she was carrying herself. They were all going to die tonight; there would be no mercy shown. Not for what they had done.

Sherise smiled at each little snit, and then stepped off, easily keeping pace with her. "We may not be related, but we are of the same kind, you and I. We kill for the pleasure of feeling the victim's life blood drain out against our hands. We kill them because of the slightest wrongs, real or imagined. And... I wouldn't advise trying to kill me," she said, her voice dropping into a dark undertone as she outpaced Cordelia. "You'd never catch me, for one thing."

She smiled, the fiery lash flashing into existence to snag on the ankle of one of the sailors, sending him face first to the ground, where he lay cowering in fear, staring up at her. "Two, I have not the weakness to fire that you weaker vampires have," she said, and gestured to the sailor. "He's all yours," she said, and withdrew the fiery strand, and turned to face the building beside them, the door bursting into flames under her gaze. Walking in, she vanished into the shadows.

About a minute later, a body came plummeting out of the window, one of the sailors, with Sherise kneeling on his chest, and landed with a thud and a sound of bones snapping, organs being crushed, and various other injuries more than capable of killing him.

She rose out of the wrecked body, looking like some grim carrion bird, and smiled. "You still haven't finished with him? Hurry, or some of them may make it out of the city.

"We may not be related, but we are of the same kind, you and I. We kill for the pleasure of feeling the victim's life blood drain out against our hands. We kill them because of the slightest wrongs, real or imagined…”

Cordelia’s blood was seething. How dare she… who was she to say how alike or different they were? “You might be an old hag, but you don’t know everything,” she said lowly. Sherise might have been much older than her, but there were so many things that she didn’t know and would probably never know with that attitude. “There are plenty of people who do what we do… and they are not the same. They’re to the point where all they can feel is hate and greed.” She was, of course, referring to Manic. What he had done, and not necessarily to her, still bewildered her.

“… And... I wouldn't advise trying to kill me."

A huff of frustration followed that warning. “I don’t know where you would get that idea…” she grumbled, ignoring what she said next. She didn’t make any other reactions until the fire leash came out, which made Cordelia wince. Did Sherise have to keep using that? She knew that it hurt and that it was useful, but it looked like she was turning out to be nothing more than another pyromaniac.

Once Sherise left, Cordelia took slow, menacing steps toward the man who had fallen, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to his feet. She threw him into a nearby building, grinning madly with satisfaction when she heard multiple cracks. Before he fell or stumbled, she grabbed him and held him there, pushing his face into the wall. He whimpered and she laughed, digging her fangs into the back of his neck and then making a large incision that traveled to the sides as well. She wouldn’t be drinking from him, though; there was too much alcohol in his system for him to be a healthy meal. It would have been fun to drain him completely, but she wouldn’t put her own health at risk when there was still more she wanted to do that night.

"You still haven't finished with him? Hurry, or some of them may make it out of the city.”

She hadn’t even heard Sherise come back, and merely glanced at her out of the corner of her eye to acknowledge her. “Don’t rush me… last time I checked, no one was calling the shots.” She turned her full attention back to the sailor, taking out her Elvish dagger and sighing. “I would have laughed to play a bit more… but oh well…” She sliced his throat open, watching the blood spill out and onto her hands before finally allowing him to fall. Cordelia walked over to Sherise and stared down at her, wiping the blood off on her coat while she did so.

“Let’s go then.” She sighed and started off again. “How many were there, exactly?”

Sherise nodded at the way Cordelia had finished that one, and then started off as well. "Hmm. I'd say.... two dozen? Maybe three? But they have a pack mentality. Where you find one, there's bound to be others." At that moment, a horn sounded. "And there go the gates," she said with a humorous grin. "That means there's no way they can get out," she said and nodded.

She gestured at a large warehouse. "Good hunting, Cordelia," she said, and stopped dead. "There's about eight of them in there. Careful. The big one that was in the back is in there." She gestured, and headed to the door.

The door was hanging from the hinges, splinters of wood embedded in the jamb. She smiled. "Looks like someone was in a hurry to get off the street," she said softly, and stepped carefully over the splinters.

Once Delia stepped inside, she gestured. "Go get the ones you want. Leave the big one to me, though," she said quietly.

"That means there's no way they can get out."

It was no surprise that they would stick together. Humans lacked the ability to think for themselves. Where one went, another followed – what one did, another did the same. It was sickening, really, but at least it made it easy to pick them off. They were worthless, really… the only useful thing they did was provide as an easy meal, and any other race could do that.

“Good… then I suppose we needn’t worry.” As if they had needed to worry at all. There might have only been two of them and two or three dozen of the sailors, but Cordelia and Sherise were so much smarter than them.

She watched as Sherise stepped over the doorway, doing so afterward. She didn’t need to be told to go get the ones she wanted… oh, no, that wasn’t something she needed to be told. She would go for the ones she wanted regardless of whether Sherise wanted her to or not. Cordelia smirked and took deliberately slow steps to the left, humming softly to herself, laughing every now and then. One hand held her sword and the older held her dagger and she sighed.

“Now, now, boys… just a little bit ago you were dying to be with Sherise… what happened?” She sounded disappointed, and really talking like that was hardly needed, but it made her sound patronizing – and she loved it. She whirled around just to see one of them come out of their hiding spot and cast the inflict minor wounds spell on him, watching as he fell right down. Without even turning her full body, but instead her arm, she slashed another across the stomach, turning fully after hearing a satisfying groan and kicking him over.

She had gotten two, so there were some left, depending on how Sherise was doing; but she wasn’t really paying attention. She almost wished she had brought Emeric along, since he would have been having a field day with all these corpses. The poor thing probably never saw action like this.

Finally, one of them had enough gall to come at her, instead of her having to pick them off! He grabbed her arm, causing her to grunt out of annoyance, but considering his drunken state, it wasn’t all that hard to twist around in his grasp and knee him in the groin. He tried to bring her down with him, but she stabbed her sword into the ground to keep her balance. She sighed and bit his hand, staring down at him with contempt when he finally fell. He was like a bug, that one; tried to be brave and fight back, but in the end it was really all for naught.

With that action done, Cordelia brought her sword down and stabbed him right through the center of his throat. The look on his face made her own light up and she laughed again before turning around to see if Sherise had gone to fight the one she had wanted yet.

Two other men were crumpled on the floor, having fallen a good twenty feet at least, and there were the sounds of ringing steel and snapping from one of the upper levels. The warehouse was set up so that there was a central open area all the way up to the roof, with squared off walkways surrounding it.

On the uppermost floor, a good fifty feet up from the ground, Sherise was in the middle of a furious fight with the burly sailor that she had wanted, blades sparking against each other. Of course, Sherise was doing more ducking and dodging, the snapping sounding each time she slashed at the sailor with the Fire Lash. There were already seared marks all over his tunic and trousers, and only a single visible wound, a red mark on her forearm, which was bare due to the sleeves of her gown having torn.

For a moment, it looked as if she was going to lose. But when the thug raised his blade for a massive overhead strike that would have split her in half, she lunged forward, her shoulder slamming straight into his gut, knocking him off-balance and over the edge...

... and her as well. Fortunately, the lash shot out, caught one of the support beams, swinging her back in to land on the next level down. She sighed in relief, a tiny trickle of sweat running down her face.

"There's still one more in here. He's yours," she said, and settled into a low crouch, leaned back against the wall.

Cordelia turned her attention upward upon hearing the metal clanging together. A look of indifference came across her features; whether Sherise made it or not wasn’t really her concern. She felt no drive to go and help her. Surely a woman her age could take care of herself… but, then again, she had needed Cordelia’s help just to kill these people. She should have been able to do it by herself. Well, whatever. The outcome didn’t really matter to her.

She watched as Sherise and the man fell to the floor, a grin of sick satisfaction taking residence on her face when the man fell so violently. That was glorious. Although she hadn’t really cared either way, it was nice to see Sherise live. It would have been a shame for her to have not.

"There's still one more in here. He's yours."

The woman merely nodded. Really, did that lady think she wanted permission to kill them? There didn’t seem to be a point to arguing now though, considering only one was left. Just as she turned to go off hunting for him, she felt the metal of a sword leave an incision in her arm. It was a shallow one and wouldn’t cause much damage… but it was enough to make her even less happy than she already was.

Immediately, she cast the spell weaken, then cause fear right after it. Her sword flicked out and pointed straight at his Adam’s apple. Cordelia’s eyes narrowed and she inched toward him, purposely taking her time. Sherise had rushed her before; she wouldn’t rush again unless she pleased. She watched him, snorting when he gave her a defiant look. That was really funny. Trying to defy death when it was staring him right in the face…

Cordelia proceeded to move the sword and stab it through his shoulder, pulling him closer with it, causing him to drop his own weapon – if a knife could really even be called a weapon. She opened her mouth and just smirked down at him; he wouldn’t get the pleasure of hearing her voice as the last thing to grace his ears. She pulled him down just a few inches to her level and sunk her teeth right into the front of his neck, piercing his windpipe. She waited until he stopped drawing breath to kick him in the stomach and away from her.

With blood dripping now from her face, Cordelia turned to glance at the wound on her arm. She scoffed, deciding to ignore it for the time being. It wasn’t that bad.

“If that’s all of them we should be going,” she said, taking a step toward the doors of the building. “Of course, that is, if you’re not too badly hurt. If that’s the case then I will be going and I suppose you’ll be staying here.”

Sherise clambered slowly down the ladder, wincing each time her now bruising arm was pulled to its extent by her weight, and settled to her feet on the floor. She didn't stay on them long, but rapidly slid down to the floor, her feet pulled up close to her body, her arms around her knees, blade forgotten beside her. There was a weariness on her face, and in her eyes, that was abnormal for a REGULAR vampire.

But then, she wasn't a REGULAR vampire. Last of her line, a line that had been hunted very effectively into extinction, by her own people. But now, she was the last, and there wasn't likely to be another. She sighed, and gestured. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," she said, shaking her head. "Thank you for your help."

Cordelia’s eyebrows shot up when she saw how tired Sherise looked. What was her problem? She was so old and yet she was tired? Cordelia was so much younger than her and she wasn’t even tired. Sherise might have been the elder here, but it was slowly becoming clear which one of them was the stronger one. As Sherise sat on the floor in such a helpless manner, the woman couldn’t help but scoff. That was so pathetic. In fact, it was so pathetic that she wasn’t going to be able to pass up the chance to make fun of her for her newfound vulnerability.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

She rolled her eyes, feeling nauseated. She turned away from the door and toward Sherise. “So just a simple fight wears you out?” she asked, derision soaking her voice. “I should have known you wouldn’t have been anything too great.” Cordelia had to admit, she was just slightly disappointed – but it should have been expected. The people that said they were the strongest, that they were the best, and acted as such were rarely anything at all. Actually, no, not rarely; that was how it always was. She shook her head, sucking on her teeth and allowing a quiet sigh to pass through her nose.

“For my help…?” she snorted. “Honey, I did it for myself. Don’t try and twist it and make it seem like I was doing it to help you.” She finally began to walk toward Sherise, looking down at her just as she always did. “You’re weak… still think I couldn’t kill you?” It wasn’t a threat. Cordelia wasn’t going to kill her, since she really had no reason to; it was just a question to make her doubt herself.