Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Something was coming, something different. It's scent drifted through the air, invading the noses of those whose survival depended on that slick red copperiness. Different to those staggering about in the throes of narcotic illusion: clear, dangerous. It approached the doors carrying an air of doom.

No, this was not prey, not a toy, not something to mess with. Not with an aura that could be sensed from so far away in spite of their nature. Not if they kept such high company.

Several pairs of gemstone eyes flickered to the royal residing over her glass, ruling her corner of the establishment, tucked in to a reserved area and perched on a black leather sofa. Her misty amethyst voids payed no attention to the unsure looks. She wouldn't give anything away. A perfect statue, the only signs of life being the faint rise and fall of her chest, butterfly blinks, and lazy trailing of a talon along her cup's rim. Raven's fellow creatures of the dark wished for reassurance that nothing would be brought to their safe heaven to harm them.
No, nothing would harm them. Damian wasn't bringing the establishment to its knees, he was simply stamping out a dirty little rat- and this newcomer was his rat poison.

The shhhhhuck-ck of the door closing seemed terribly shattering over the lulling hymn of Elvish music rocking the swaying Dark ones. The stranger came. With the Al Ghul, the royal and friend of many occupying the Blue Dragon. His majesty would not doom so many of his own true kin, they were safe...somewhat...

This dangerous man was certainly one well known for his ruthlessness. Yet also his sense of justice prevailed. An anomaly amongst humankind, a defender and great bringer of destruction to those who sought to harm the innocent. Masked in nought but his sternness and a cowl of the utmost black, the man's keen eyes scanned the Dark getaway, traveling over visages as scarred as his body with not a flinch.

Then, as swiftly as they'd entered, Al Ghul and Batman stalked through the path of writhing dancers, past several booths, and joined Raven in her little kingdom-corner. The green-eyed one tugged upon his jacket's collar, before flicking a hand in the air- a signal instantly snapped up by one of the bar girls (Krysa, a half-Dark Fey, bastard child of a nobleblood). Maintaining an entirely professional air, the girl folded her elegant fingers and asked in a slightly accented voice if The Sirs Would Like Anything To Drink. She tucked a long, teal strand of hair behind her elongated ear (a trait held by many preternaturals, Fey and Elf included).

"The usual Krysa, thank you.", Damian nodded to the half-Fey. He shifted his eyes to Batman. Batman didn't drink. He nodded once again, "That will be all."

She dipped her head in understanding , slipping away between the sweating forms.

"You're DRINKING?", Batman's eyes were hard as steel, promising punishment.

Damian's curt response was stopped by the factual tone of the demoness opposite, whose face was bought but shadow beneath her hood, "It isn't human alcohol, preternatural drink acts differently and is dealt with differently. If a preternatural has enough will power, the drink has no detrimental effect."

This somewhat settled the Dark Night, returning him to the task of finding Alexander Fletcher Sumpter- and his true purpose of being here, observing the preternatural community and his son's place in it. Batman studied the constantly shifting bodies as best as he could, considering the variations of creatures present. Every shade from the most blinding white to searing red to Prussian blue was present in lustrous complexions and hair. There was a hypnotic sense to the freedom of the flowing of their bodies, moving to that unearthly sound. Some clothes themselves in human jeans, jackets and dresses; others donned sheath-like robes, gear fit for a war zone, abundances of lace and corsets, and all inbetween. Within that chaos of deadly beauty, a few individuals stood out, leaning coolly against the walls, sitting around the bar, given wide berth by the others. Higher in status no doubt.