Transcendental (Request-only; NPC Soul Hunt)

The ghost rolled her eyes and charged at Ceri after he commented. "I don't appreciate being laughed at, sir!" She howled, putting all of her energy into solidifying the knife in her hand. However, there was stirring from the vampire on the floor. "Mistress, this one is mine." Allen managed, getting to his feet and swaying a little. "Also, drugging me? That deserves revenge." He picked up a glass vase from the kitchen table and got as close as he could before smashing it over top of her head. "You!" She howled, a bit of whiteish blood if that could even be considered such from a ghost trickling from her head. Her aura dimmed and Allen snatched the knife out of her hand before stabbing her a few times. With a howl, she was gone and left only a pearly white soul behind like her sons had. Allen slumped, still quite drugged.

Ceri made a sound like his fun had been interrupted. Sighing softly, he plucked the soul from the ground, setting it with the others, his flame barrel still transformed in his main hand. Pointing it towards the Vampire's head, he studied the man before he fired, just once, stepping back as he did so.

Allen was too drugged to react fast enough, and before he knew it a searing pain was covering him. With a scream, he crumpled to the ground as he slowly was burned alive. Then, only a dark black soul was left.

OOC: He could just take the soul and not eat it, possibly use it in future threads.

ooc// Is he monster? Because Monster souls get "dyed" depending on their owner. I just want to make sure he's still registering as such.

ic//
Ceri looked down at what was left of the man with a look that crossed both surprise and disdain. Drawing the souls from his pocket, he swallowed down each one, biting back the pain as he was brought to his knees, struggling not to be retching on the contact. By the end. he managed to get the three other souls down, though just barely, a hint of bile on his lips as he pressed his hands to the ground, trembling from the effort as the quick succession of the monster souls settled into his being; it still hadn't full adjusted to the first soul, to begin with. Looking forward, he reached out to the vampire's, wondering if he could even handle it or if he'd have to find another way of disposing the spirit.

OOC: I was thinking he is monster. All of my characters have died btw

ooc// Wanted to make sure. And I know. You can make more NPCs if you wish or I can swap back to self-RPing and wrap up the thread

OOC: self rping seems to be a good idea. End the way you started.

Ceri's hand gripped the last soul weakly, a sort of chilling numbness extending out from the orb. It sent a shiver down his spine though he'd never admit to it, and it was an odd sensation for him to actually feel, given that the hand that gripped it was the one that would always transform into the ice barrel. Pulling it closer to himself, he made a move to slide it into his mouth. Before it could leave his pallet, his body began to reject it, stomach lurching until he lost any chance at the vampiric soul or recovery of his previous meal. Several seconds dissolved into a minute, two, where he remained knelt on the ground, trying to steady his body. The ghost souls had already settled into his body, becoming one with his very DNA, but he could handle no more, for the time being, and thus the vampiric one floated, discarded and covered in bile. He opened his eyes slowly, directing his gaze away from the scene before him, and rose on wobbling legs to try to once more locate his partners.

His movements were slow, and he was increasingly unaware of whether he or his vision was wobbling more. With each soul he'd consumed, his DNA had unravelled, become rewritten, and reset itself again. Four souls, he had eaten. Four souls had left their mark on him, body, mind, and soul, and left him very much a different man from when he'd entered. Each step felt heavier than the previous, and though he no longer felt nauseous, the weapon was certainly feeling dizzy. Around him, the room wavered, rocking back and forth like an abandoned boat over rippled waves. He reached his hand out, palm scraping against aged and peeling wallpaper and exposed wall alike. His legs didn't work correctly. His head swam. Nearly to the end of the hall, his legs gave out beneath him. The world spun. Teetering on ankles that struggled to work while knees collapsed, he fell to the floor. The world spun. His eyes began to roll back, breathing shallow... and cold.

It was over another hour before his meister and her other partner came; even with her extreme Soul Perception and her ability to walk outside of her body, maneuvering the passages to get to him had been nearly impossible. Randy had suggested, time and again, smashing through the walls or windows, but it had been in vain. The windows would not break. Though the walls certainly would crumble, Leila refused; she'd felt each soul as it disappeared, saved the displaced vampiric one, and with the ancient building now empty, well... now it could be restored, an important piece of history made anew. Even Randy felt that such was a waste, grossly unnecessary; this place was a nobody, in many ways, however old it was. It was more when they arrived than it ever had been before or would be again: a ghost house. With the monsters gone, it was that no more. It had become nothing.

By the time they arrived, Randy had long abandoned his post as her armor, walking on his own. She was out of danger. He had no need to help her. Of course, she was still more foolhardy than he would have liked, and when they finally made it to the long hallway she had found him in, there was no stopping her from taking off at top speed. No safe way, at any rate. Leila took off, past the kitchen and the discarded soul Ceri's body had refused, running the long length he'd somehow managed after the fact. She was all but panicking as she reached him, rolling him over and pulling his head into her lap. The Grigori still felt his soul; he had not left it. Yet, it felt weird, almost intangible, now. And he was so cold. She didn't need to check for a pulse or breath; she could see the air expelling from his body, chilled where it fled and heating up in the open air. He didn't need revival. But what was he? Leila shook him, once, and again, trying to rouse him to consciousness.

Still where he left her, Randy knelt, digging into the pack he'd been the only one with the reason to bring with them. Finding a wet wipe and a drawstring bag inside, he cleaned the bile away before taking the soul. If he could, the boy would surely study it; Leila had said too many times that something wasn't right about the souls she'd sensed. They were no longer human, she'd told him, in... far less intelligible ways. They were not, however, reading in any way similar to the kishin eggs they had hunted before. The wavelengths and appearances they gave off unsettled her, reminding her of nightmares from the past and childhood fears. He'd disregarded these things, but to know that they were different? That was an interest that had intrigued him. "Study," the idea breathed to him, whispering in the recesses of his mind that demanded more of him, "Learn." As a result, he had taken up the soul for precisely that purpose.

It took several tries to get Ceri to come to, but when he did, he seemed almost --- almost --- normal. He straightened slowly, or tried to, as his eyes began to open. Leila guided him back down, refusing to let him stand, as of yet. His breathing was still cold, but his skin was returning to normal, slowly.

"No standing," Leila said, pushing his unkempt hair our of his face. "You passed out. You're not standing up just yet."

A cough escaped him and he smirked, cocky, looking up at her through tired eyes. "Worried about me, Angel face?"

"Obviously," she said, seeming to miss the hidden meaning in his words as she checked his head for injuries. Finding none, she looked him over further; he appeared unharmed, but he was utterly exhausted. "Lift up your shirt." She commanded, moving her hands off of him.

He laughed a bit at this, forcing another cough to surface in the process, "That'll... cost you extra, you know." Still, he obeyed her wish, revealing nothing but his old scars from street life. There wasn't a new injury anywhere on him.

As she usually did, Leila ignored his joking quip, too focused on the task at hand to bother with any form of comeback for herself. Instead, her hand moved along the surface of his skin, checking for anything that might seem recent. For all she knew, he could have a bruised or broken rib. He didn't, of course, but she had not yet proven that to herself and thus did not currently believe it.

"'Ey, -ey, Hey, don't touch the merchandise," he continued to joke, laughing weakly as he pushed her hand aside. "I'm fine, lass. Really." That smirk was there, ever full of mirth, but the usual energy behind it was thin.

Some ways behind them, Randy found himself rolling his eyes, finally choosing to move over to them. By this point, the soul was tucked away in the pack, out of sight but at the forefront of his mind. That was, besides trying to keep his freeloader roommate out of their partner's pants.

She swatted his hand back away from herself, his head still cradled in her lap, whether he wanted it there or not. Looking him over, she began to run her fingers through his hair, both hands checking his skull for any injuries as they roamed along his head. "Sit still, I have to make sure..." she muttered, the worry far from hidden, this time around. He didn't get the chance to tease her, once more, however, as her actions sent away all consciousness. Within seconds, he had conked back out, laying limp against her.

Randy made a motion akin to someone groaning, shifting himself to wrap around her. His weapon form offered a strengthening buff to her own abilities, something that she now needed. Raising slowly, she lifted their roommate up with her, and they made their way back.