Investigating THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE. (Open thread! Join us!)

[clyst]

**A gloss-black BMW i8 prowls through the late night streets of Atlanta, its headlamps throwing a harsh blue-white glare on the denizens. A homeless man shades his eyes on one corner while a harlot hikes up her skirt almost unconcsiously as she sizes up a mark. The car rolls on, casting sharp shadows behind furtive drug deals, a solitary woman hurrying her dangerous way home, a small gang of street toughs looking for an easy score.

Inside the car, a serene blue gaze took it all in. Alisdair Ross had seen such things many, many times. Occasionally it saddened him. Most of the time he didn't give a damn. After all, there were more important things in the world to worry about than the detritus of Sleeper society. More pressing matters than the stew of life, whether it be seasoned sweet or sour.

He glanced to the woman in the passenger seat. The flower of youth was still fresh upon her, though in either the literal or figurative sense it ought not have been. She idly twirled one satin-blonde curl around a finger, the toe of one obscenely expensive Coach shoe tapping distractedly on the floorboards.

He glanced away. He had learned long ago not to judge his ward by appearances, so his mild rebuke for ignoring her surroundings went unvoiced. She would find her own way. Hopefully with his guidance.

The car wound through the streets until it slowed, smoothly, to a stop at the cemetery where the first body was reported missing. Alisdair tapped the dome light and retrieved a folded newspaper story. He nodded briskly and opened the gull-wing door**

This is it, Ophelia. We begin here.

She didn't expect a man, even one with taste enough to drive a BMW i8, to know the difference between Coach and Chanel. These were her "work" boots anyway. Classy, functional black leather boots that cost more than most luxury sedans. Fashion was her guilty pleasure. As for the cemetery and the alleyways they passed to get there, she'd seen it all before.

With all the enthusiasm of a wet blanket, she stepped from the car and gave a glance across the field of dead. The door closed with an almost inaudible click, gently pressed back into place by long, dainty fingers.

She was not far behind Alisdair as he traipsed, with purpose, into the darkness.

"Do we know the graves from which the dead have risen?"

She asked, seemingly only half-interested.

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Alisdair grimaced.  He didn't take uncertainty personally, but it often appeared that way to others.  No, it was more like how an unbalanced scale leaves one feeling vaguely uneasy.  As if the question lingers which question was asked and how it was answered.  He shrugged inwardly.  ALisdair had long ago accepted that few people saw the world the way he did.  He was thankful that his calling allowed for his eccentricities.  Indeed, he was better for them.

"In truth, Ophelia, we will not know... CAN not know... until we cast our senses over the place."

He scanned the area rapidly, his experienced eyes noting very little differentiate one grave from another.  But the eyes of a Mage trumped experience every time.

He muttered a few lyrical, alien words under his breath and noted, with satisfaction, that his spell had taken hold.  He looked around the area again, this time with augmented vision and the ability to see the resonance of past magic.  He was paying particular attention to Necromantic magic, Death magic or Life magic.

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She arched a somewhat haughty brow, somehow unconvinced that nowhere in any reports had it stated the areas from which the dead sprang to life. It was not an every day occurrence, and people were fascinated by those things. She was, in fact, surprised that the place wasn't crawling with trespassers...other than the two of them, of course.

"Very well."

Boss man says start from scratch, you start from scratch. She gave the ring on her middle finger an absent twirl as the tendrils of Supernal Vision spread out amidst the headstones. With each inch traveled, her mage sight unveiled magical resonance, broader reaching than Alisdair's focused search but not nearly as detailed.

[-=The MACK Cat=-]

STORYTELLER MODE

The grave was cold when you got there not much really seemed out of the ordinary even with just normal looking and what not, however when your magic is used three specific graves light up a man, a woman and child, a little girl by the name [the actual names are not important at all - and I forgot the names to boot] however the magic used was definitely Necromancy Magic and Death, but there was also Life, at least through the foliage (the plants around the graves were still alive) and from what you can guess the Necromancer is using the plants with his Zombies, as to what their doing so far you'll have to get with Dante of Hunag Ling as she is the one that's conducting the experiments on them

[Deleted]

:: There's no magic in her. Unless you count the demons blood that's finally faded out enough for her to behave herself. She knows better than to feed from her brother...but she really can't resist. Not when she gets so close to his throat, smell him, feel the warmth of his body...since the first bite, she's been as hopelessly addicted to him as their little pet is.

She had asked Dante to keep her updated on what is going. And still he hasn't told her of the attack at the bar, that had become big news in the underground. She became a little....iffy about how she found out about it. She did ask politely, and he did tell her he will keep her updated. Now, she was beginning to think that she might have to force the matter a little with the Prince. She'll have to give him a call and ask him to meet with her. And she'll be a good girl. Promise. 

It is a very unusual outing for her. It is rather rare for her to be out alone, without her brother or Shadowolf. Once in a while though, she's learning that they do indeed need some time to themselves. And she's sure he's enjoying the idea of a quiet evening at home without his sister and his daughter sniping at each other with the very real possibility of physical violence.

She was sitting on top of a mausoleum, legs crossed when, her back straight as the vampire simply sat there and regarded the recent events and how much she doesn't know when the duet had entered the cemetery. Her head lifted as she watched them, the blondes attention focused on them as they approached the open graves. Now this is interesting. Actually. It was VERY interesting. She felt energy being drawn, pulled, used and she instinctively reacted to it. It was being used in a way she knows she'll never be able to use it in. Along with their use of magic - the air became electric as her own presence approached them. Her eyes had gone dark as slips off of the mausoleum and approached them from behind, letting a cool breeze on a still night brush over the back of their necks, rustling the leaves to break their focus enough before she spoke so she doesn't get....zapped? Hmm.::

' It is suspicious to appear at a scene like this, unknown souls to the people watching the cemetery.'

:: She was tall for her time. Now she's of an average height. Five foot six, blonde, her eyes dark as she couldn't resist but put herself as close to their energy as she could, to draw on it for her own own use. There is not poking in their minds, the only phantom feel came from the breeze she directs on an otherwise still night. The draw on the raw energy was her storing it, readied to throw up some form of defense if they reacted poorly. She wore the ubiquitous little black dress, the knee high black boots, leather coat, and the mithril and steel choke chain around her throat. All gifts from her twin, though one piece she holds particularly close and valued. The chain was used on her brother to wrest control out of him from the slavers that had came across them the morning after he had carried her out of a slaughtered household...it held in particularly high value too her...offered a pirates ransom in jewels and gold, she'd pass it up, happily to keep the token, repurposed as a sign of his love for her, worn as a show of hers for him. And it is in near instinct that the millennial aged vampire reached for the chain and threaded it through her fingers, watching both of them, her eyes suspicious of the two in front of her.::

' I believe it will be in your wisest interest to tell me what you two are doing here at this hour.'