[CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/JaeBQ9Q.png[/img][/CENTER][CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/GQf6jfe.png[/img][/CENTER][center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [center][color=#3A5F7F][b]Location:[/b][/color] [color=#56DD73]Zach’s Apartment[/color][/center] [center][color=#3A5F7F][b]Time:[/b][/color] [color=#56DD73]Dusk~Evening[/color][/center] [center][color=#3A5F7F][b]Interactions/Mentions:[/b][/color] [color=#56DD73][@Tpartywithzombi] [@Sadie] [@Apex Sunburn] [@Ctenoid Soul][/color][/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [color=#A9A9A9]Zachariah stumbled through the door, shoulder catching the frame as he shoved himself inside his apartment. Shaking hands fumbled with the locks—deadbolt, chain, the reinforced bar he’d installed. One by one, they clicked into place with metallic finality. Sweat soaked through his shirt. His throat burned with a thirst that water couldn’t touch, saliva flooding his mouth until he had to swallow convulsively to keep from drooling. Air came in sharp, ragged bursts. He’d known. Had taken Vex’s warnings seriously, prepared himself as much as anyone could prepare for their first night as a monster. But knowing and [i]experiencing[/i]—there was a universe of difference between the two. The moment he’d stepped onto the street, Halcyon had hit him like a freight train. Neon lights burned too bright, their colors searing afterimages behind his eyelids. Car engines roared, brakes screeched, music bled from nightclub doors—all of it crushing down until he gasped. But that was nothing compared to the people. The sidewalks teemed with them, voices creating a cacophony that made his skull throb. Beneath the chatter, beneath the laughter and arguments, was something else. Something that made his mouth flood with saliva and his vision narrow to pinpoints. [i]Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.[/i] Hearts. Everywhere, hearts beating in rhythm, a symphony of life that called to something primal and hungry in his chest. The sound grew louder with each passing second, drowning out everything else—traffic, voices, his own ragged breathing. Just that relentless percussion of blood announcing itself to every predatory instinct he didn’t know he possessed. A woman had brushed past him outside a nightclub, her perfume mixing with the salt-sweet scent of her skin, and Zachariah had caught the underlying copper tang of her blood. Rich. Warm. [i]Available.[/i] The urge seized him—to lean closer, to taste. He’d imagined pressing his teeth to the soft curve of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against his tongue before— Stop. Stop. [color=#3A5F7F][i]STOP.[/i][/color] Warden training had kicked in then. He’d jerked to a halt, fists clenched until his nails bit into his palms, using pain as an anchor. Every muscle screamed in protest as he forced himself to turn away, to put distance between himself and the walking banquet that surrounded him. Each block became a battle. Each person a test he barely passed. By the time he’d reached his building, drool was trickling down his chin and he was trembling all over. Only his Warden training—years of discipline hammered into his bones—that had saved his life countless times in the field now served as the only barrier between his sanity and complete surrender to the Curse. But it wouldn't be enough. Not forever. One day—maybe tomorrow, maybe next week—that discipline would snap. And then there would be blood on his hands that no amount of penance could wash clean. Now, back in his apartment, Zachariah collapsed against the hardwood floor. Tension coiled through him. His body was ready to hunt for prey that wasn’t there. His chest heaved, drawing in great gulps of air that did nothing to calm the fire racing through his veins. The Sanguine Curse writhed inside him, clawing at his ribcage, demanding satisfaction. It whispered how easy it would be to go back outside, how sweet that first taste would be, how the burning would finally stop if he just [i]gave in.[/i] Zachariah pressed his forehead to the cool floor and waited. How long he lay there, he couldn’t say. Time felt elastic. Unreliable. The hunger prowled at the edges of his consciousness like a caged animal, testing the bars, looking for weakness. But gradually—gradually—it retreated. When Zachariah finally felt human enough to think clearly, he pushed himself upright and surveyed the apartment. Everything exactly as he’d left it. His coffee mug still sat on the kitchen counter, a ring of dried residue marking where he’d abandoned it days ago. Mail lay scattered across the dining table, bills and junk advertisements mixed together in the same careless pile. Even the throw pillow on his couch remained at the exact angle where Sable had tossed it before Zachariah left for what should have been a routine investigation. Which meant the Wardens hadn't come yet. [color=#3A5F7F][i]Yet.[/i][/color] They would, though. Soon. And that meant Zachariah had to make a decision [i]now.[/i] The right thing—the Warden thing—would be to pick up his phone and call headquarters himself. Save them the trouble. Three words: “I’ve been compromised.” They'd be here within the hour with silver bullets and bloodrune blades, and this nightmare would end before he hurt someone. Clean. Professional. The kind of death a Warden deserved. But beneath the logic, beneath years of duty and honor, a deeper, more fundamental part rebelled against it. Not because he feared death—he’d made peace with his mortality long ago, had walked into enough dangerous situations to know that someday his luck would run out. No, what kept him from reaching for the phone was simpler and more complicated than fear. Elijah. His friends. Zachariah couldn’t die. Not yet. Not until he found the bastards responsible and returned the favor. The decision felt less like choice and more like inevitability. He hauled himself to his feet, his body protesting every movement. Double-checked the deadbolt. Drew the curtains tight against the windows. Then he powered up his desktop. The screen flickered to life, casting blue light across his face as he opened his encrypted messaging app. His fingers moved across the keyboard: [code]We need to talk in person. It’s urgent. - Z[/code] Message sent to Sable and Wendell, he opened his email client. The cursor blinked in the subject line as he considered his words. [code]Subject: Business Proposition Wulde, Due to unforeseen circumstances, I need to step back from day-to-day operations at Reed Financial indefinitely. I’m writing to ask if you would be willing to take over the company entirely—client contracts, office lease, equipment, everything. I know this is sudden, but I trust your judgment and expertise more than anyone else's. We can discuss terms and transition details at your convenience. Time is unfortunately a factor. I hope you’ll consider it. Zachariah[/code] He stared at the screen for a long moment before hitting send.[/color]