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[color=SkyBlue]"I can't believe this shit..."[/color]

Dakota was currently standing outside of Arken's car, leaning against a streetlamp. Between her index and middle fingers was a lit cigarette, and smoke cascaded from her lips almost elegantly as it wafted into the night sky. Dakota had sworn that she would behave, but she had been standing out here in the night for hours. [i]Hours.[/i] This was exhausting, and entirely unnecessary. As Dakota had predicted before they had gotten to the cemetery, there would be nobody there, and, surprise surprise, she was right. All a massive let-down. Dakota pressed the cigarette to her lips again, taking another long, frustrated drag. She was a night owl, true, but being a night owl generally meant doing something fun, not sitting in Arken's car for hours watching some depressed grandmas enter and exit the graveyard to mourn their poor dead husbands. 

Dakota shook her head. She should've spoken up earlier, when the plan was being formulated, and actually spoken her mind, but she was far too busy stuffing her face with pizza when that was all going down, not actually paying attention. If she had known that [i]this[/i] would be what the witchlings of the Sisters of the Dying Branch had come up with, she would definitely have shut it down hen and there. Still, no use crying over spilled milk. Thankfully, it seemed as though 2 A.M. was almost upon them, which meant that they would finally go back to the motel and call this whole stupid operation quits. 

However, as the hour came, Dakota finally saw something. A flash. And then another. A total of six flashes, right by the cemetery gate. Dakota knelt down, taking cover on the side of Arken's car, peeking her eyes over the hood of the vehicle. Three of the figures had hopped the fence, and the other three lingered. These were either the most pyrotechnically-gifted graverobbers in history, or, more likely, these were the vampires. Dakota felt the adrenaline rush through her as she reached behind her back, pulling, from an old leather holster, her gun. It was a weapon that was special for her- a Ruger Blackhawk, an old 50s revolver, with the initials "DCL" engraved into the barrel. It was a gift from her father, and while it was certainly an [i]interesting[/i] gift, it was one of great sentimental value to Dakota. Outside of being a sweet reminder of her dad, the weapon was also practical- her father had put several enchantments on the weapon, and it was loaded with 6 thick .45 silver bullets. Any vampire on the receiving end had better say their prayers. Dakota looked over the top of the vehicle again, thinking. She would prefer to deal with the vampires with magic instead of with bullets, but at the moment, it seemed neither would be the case. Dakota was positive the vampires were looking at her, and so instead of acting, she waited for a few moments, for the vampires to turn away, before she struck.

That was, until, she heard the scream.

Dakota was not particularly well-versed in the screams of her friends, but she was fairly certain it was one of the girls (Caleb did seem like a pitchy screamer, though, so not to rule him out yet). Regardless, that was bad. Somehow, their cover and been blown, and they needed help fast. Iris, however, being even less subtle than Dakota, decided to just run at them. The vampires turned to face her as Dakota's mind raced. [color=SkyBlue]"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."[/color] she muttered, fiddling with her knife. She hadn't exactly done too much research on the likes and dislikes of vampires, but it was fairly common knowledge that fire and vampires did not mix. Well, Dakota did happen to have a very small fire on her. All she needed was a little bit of power. And so, Dakota snatched her keychain from her belt, flicking open the tiny Swiss Army Knife attached on it, and dragged the knife along her hand, from her pinky diagonally across to her thumb.  She winced and bit her lip to stop from crying out as she made the cut, and snatched the half-dead cigarette from the ground. Blood splattered onto the cigarette, dying it a maroon color, the ember at its tip still glowing as bright as ever. She took a deep breath as she imbued her magic into the cigarette. Alayna would've been much, much better at this, but unfortunately, Alayna was busy getting nibbled right now, and so Dakota had to make do. She wasn't exactly an elementalist, but she had doled out a non-insignificant amount of blood to make this worse. [color=SkyBlue]"Get back!"[/color] Dakota yelled, before she threw the cigarette with a powerful flick, right at the vampires. 

It was as though she had thrown a Molotov cocktail, almost. A flower of crimson fire erupted from the cigarette, brightly spreading as Dakota's makeshift curse-bomb blossomed into a brilliant flame. The remains of the cigarette hit the ground, with burgundy-colored smoke rising from the charred tube like a flare. Dakota staggered out from behind the vehicle, her gun back in its holster, one hand clasped tightly over the one she had cut. [color=SkyBlue]"How's that for a sunburn? Anyway, let's go already. I'm not sure if that did them in or not, but either way, we have people to save."[/color] Dakota looked down at her hand. She was bleeding pretty badly, blood dripping from beneath her clasped hand. [color=SkyBlue]"And does anybody have a Band-Aid? Last thing we need is for Callie to puke herself again in the middle of a fight."[/color]

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Jean-Luc stuck out like a sore thumb. His clothes, his car, everything; it was all incredibly out-of-place in this shantytown of a village. Jean-Luc gave a somewhat dejected sigh as he parked his car next to the Williamson Inn, a building so derelict it looked haunted. Ghosts might be a larger concern than vampires at this rate. Jean-Luc reached into his jacket pocket, removing a small bottle of hand sanitizer gel from his pocket, and squeezing some into his hands. He rubbed his hands vigorously as he made his way into the inn. He triple-checked to make sure his car was locked before entering the building.

[color=B90EB9]"Ugh,"[/color] were the words that managed to escape his mouth once he entered the room. It was...beyond disappointing. Jean-Luc's immediate instinct was to blame the Coven, but it wasn't really the Coven's fault, nor the town's fault, that vampires had decided to set-up shop in the middle of this hellhole. These sentiments didn't exactly make Jean-Luc feel [i]better,[/i] but it was what it was. Jean-Luc hefted his bags over onto the bed, took one look at the sheets, and then decided he couldn't possibly fare worse on the pull-out couch. He laid his luggage down there, removing two bottles of Febreeze from inside. A couple minutes later, the boy's room would smell like roses. It still [i]looked[/i] disgusting, of coarse, but at least it didn't stink of mildew. Jean-Luc heard one of the girls, Rowan, mention something about meeting in their room, and so he went off, though he made sure to take a bottle of Febreeze with him. 

Jean-Luc spritzed a few times as he entered the room, listening to what Rowan had to say. For somebody he had pinned as meek, she was surprisingly decisive. It was nice to hear a voice of reason in a group that tended to lack some. Jean-Luc had to thank his lucky stars that some of the others hadn't been assigned to his group. Namely, Calypso Barnes, Caleb Bishop, and Dakota Lawson. The Three Stooges of bad decision-making. Still, his good impression of Rowan wouldn't stop him from ripping apart her plans in typical fashion.

[color=B90EB9]"I disagree entirely. Vampires do not operate during the day. As you may know, they are extremely vulnerable to the sunlight. As such, we will not be able to get much done after the sun rises tomorrow."[/color] Jean-Luc rubbed his hands together, working in some Purell. He felt the need to stay sanitized at all times in this ruinous excuse for an inn. [color=B90EB9]"That being said, you are correct in your assertion that some of us may need rest. It would be unfortunate if one of you were to die because of sleep deprivation. However, I suggest that at least some of us journey out to at least taking notes of suspicious, perhaps vampire-related activities. The rest should bunker up and fortify the area with some sort of spellwork. I trust you're capable of at least the most juvenile of magic, being fully-fledged witches now connected to the wellspring."[/color]

Jean-Luc stepped out. [color=B90EB9]"If you'd like to come with me on a tour of the town, meet me at my car. I have my own ways of disguising myself and my vehicle. Ways that don't involve hopscotch rituals,"[/color] he said derisively, before stepping out of the motel room. God, this place smelled. 

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