“Kratzer,” James said - hesitantly, for fear of provoking him (because anyone with regenerative power like that terrified him). “I presume... before you got here, you were in... some form of battle or combat? Hence the bullet wound?”
He nodded, then regretted the sudden movement of his head and grimaced. "Ja, won the first fight, wasn't so lucky the next time."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Something like that," he confirms, but doesn't elaborate. Starting off a conversation explaining vampirism usually didn't go well.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James nodded, taking one last peek of disappointment into the cottage before he pulled away and started slowly pacing - walking towards and then away from the still healing Kratzer.
He looked back at Siren. "...When you say bad fish, do you mean to say you got food poisoning?"
James nodded again as he looked out into the grassy, garden-like scene in front of the cottage. He didn't know quite what conclusion he was coming on to. From what it sounded like, none of them had really died, but had all been very close to it.
"So we all almost died before we showed up here," he concluded aloud. "Which doesn't make this the afterlife, but maybe some kind of... safe haven."
He hated the idea himself, if only for the fact that it was mystical and intangible and involved powers beyond his control, but it seemed a logical, if very unlikely and convenient (or inconvenient) reason for them to suddenly appear in such a place. Obviously it was... some kind of magic. It had to be.
"Luck of the draw?" Kratzer guesses, looking down at his side. It's not regenerating.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Fate... destiny... chance..." James muttered. "It's all bullsh*t." But if they were brought there to rest... then he was going to take advantage of that and godsd*mned rest. If he could, that was, with the other two around. Which he was beginning to suspect to be unlikely.
Silberfuchs went back to silence as he shrugged off his coat and pressed it against the wound on his stomach to slow the bleeding. As the sleeves came off the black and white tattoo that covered the entirety of his left arm from his shoulder to midway down his forearm. It depicted a silver fox in the woodland, moving through the snow.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James glanced down at Kratzer, noticing that his other wounds were healing considerably more slowly, and wondered if there was anything inside the cottage that could help him. He knew it wouldn't be anything like the man's abilities, but it would be... something. He walked up to the door, hesitantly turning the knob and opening the door as he peeked inside. His eyes scanned the room, still suspicious, but he didn't see anyone, so he stepped inside - though still quite wary.
Siren poked through the pantry to find some things to eat, and found some bottles with human people writing on them. The labels read 'Aspirin' and 'Morphine', but she did not know how to read them.
She only knew that she did not like the way the contents smelled, so she set the bottles down on the floor and kept looking.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
James followed after Siren, much slower to explore than she. When she started taking bottles out of the cabinet and leaving them on the counter, he picked them up curiously. He squinted at the writing.
