wethecrack | The Best Thing About Not Being Home is Missing You

Prompt A

This was one of the more unpleasant awakenings that Jacob Waters had experienced in his many years. For the last thing that he could clearly recall was sustaining the sort of injury that a few vagrants worth of blood and a good day's rest wouldn't fix. The end results of betrayal, betrayal by all of his allies and all those he was certain he had won to his side. It took effort to hold in his rage, and he was thankful for the distraction of unfamiliar surroundings. He rose, he dressed, he explored his little house, read his little note, drank a few bags of blood, and by the end of it all was calm and composed. This was only a setback. Being in this place was, honestly, in the best interests of those that had done this to him. Because he was done with being subtle and operating within the rules. He would return to the Harbourvale court and burn it all to the ground.

But first, he would need to learn about this place that he had been sent to, which called for some exploration. Jacob's first walkabout was done in full Obfuscation, not strictly invisible but simply projecting an aura of 'not there' to anyone that might be around and attempting to observe him. It was the safest way to assess a new situation that he had at his disposal. It was only after taking in the paths and houses and woods and pastel animals and bulletin board (interesting, some of what was on that...) that he dropped the concealment and went on a more purposeful, visible evening stroll. So now there's a vampire in a dark wool coat with a wooden walking stick making his way through the little village. His eyes are sunken, there's an unpleasant red rash creeping along his neck and jawline, and he smells of dampness and rot and the slightest hint of expensive men's cologne. He might well say hello, if someone approaches.

Prompt B

It was a long night and the limits of the village and "Meadous" were small, and so Jacob had managed to walk the entire perimeter of the wall and wind up back where he started. It was nearing dawn and he shouldn't dawdle for much longer, but the structure piqued his interest. There were no gates, no handholds, no cracks, just enormous slabs of rough-hewn stone. Interesting, that. The texture reminded him of something that he couldn't quite place. He's just going to reach out and... try to touch it... yup. Because touching walls is a perfectly normal thing to do. And nothing bad can come of it. Of course.

"You really shouldn't do that, dude," a young male voice behind him says, far too late to do any good.

(Oh look, teenage boy, just the perfect thing to eat during your frenzy, Jacob.)

"Hm?" Jacob makes a curious sound and glances over his shoulder to see who it was, but yes, it was too late. His fingertips were already in the process of making contact with the wall. The moment they did his eyes widened and his body went rigid, the surge of emotion rippling through him. It blanked out his conscious mind and enraged the Beast within him. Which was why he was now charging at the well-meaning teenager, fangs bared and growling.

The well-meaning teenager who had been barely five feet away from him and thus quite easy to grab hold of. This was probably a bad thing, because by the time Karkat's hastily summoned burst of Calm went off, Mr Strange Vampire was already fangs deep in his neck and sucking away.

It was an anger frenzy more than a hunger frenzy, but once he had finished attempting to punch Karkat in the face he had seen the young man's bare neck and deep down, he was a little peckish... So biting occurred. And drinking. He dropped his walking stick into the snow, latched onto Karkat with undead ferocity, and only partially came back into his right mind when the calm settled upon him. It silenced his Beast nicely, but the rest of him was worn dreadfully numb and sluggish.

Who was he feeding from? What was he doing? Well... no matter. Let's have a few more mouthfuls....

By now, Karkat's not really liable to stop him. It feels as good at did when Natalie drank him at the party. The sensible part of his brain is telling him to get out of Mystery Vampire Dude's before all of his blood is gone, but the guy's way stronger than him and with how good the mouth on his neck feels it's hard to want to.

It's more funny, at first, that the young man isn't trying to escape his grip. No matter how overwhelming his bite could be, it was rarely the sort of thing that anyone wanted more of. So he drank long and deep, as sense came back to him little by little... it was just when the flow of blood began to slow and Karkat's pulse began to weaken that he realized that he should stop. It was a plain and simple academic realization that if he did not, this boy would die, and such things caused trouble.

Jacob withdrew his fangs, licked the puncture wounds closed, and held Karkat at arm's length. He wasn't dead, but in that state, in his experience, he wasn't likely to survive without immediate transfusion. "...well." Had he been a little less emotionally gutted, there might have been cursing. As it stood, all he could manage was dismay and some practical rolling up of his sleeve. A quick flash of fang and his wrist was torn open, and then he was pressing it to the young man's lips. Later there would be time to concoct excuses and formulate plans. Now, he'd have to hope that the lad could still swallow properly. Supporting Karkat's weight, he slowly knelt, ready to lay him out in the snow and give him some room and space for the changes to occur.

It's good that Jacob gives him some space, because they boy thrashes under his transformation. But he's moving. Moving implies unlife of some kind.

When the boy's eyes open they're catlike, slit pupil and all iris--and as red as blood. "I can feel my blood!" the boy gasps. "I can feel my fucking blood. What the fuck--?" His red gaze turns to Jacob. "Who the fuck are you?"

Jacob watches this thrashing transformation with a detached fascination. The change brought by the vitae and the ways the Crone's will worked were something he so rarely had the chance to see for himself. It was a pity that the young man wasn't taking on his own more obvious deformities... maybe he was simply deluding himself that his eyes seemed more sunken. It's almost a delight when Karkat opens them again, revealing hideous changes of a completely unsuspected sort. Almost. Feeling things is a little difficult right now.

"Jacob Waters." And he offers that still-gashed, still-bloodied wrist to him. "Your sire." It wasn't shoved in his mouth, nor forced down his throat. Jacob wished to offer at least the illusion of choice in the matter. The lad could still flee, could refuse to drink, could do any number of things... the odds were against it, but everyone deserved a faint chance at hope.

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skullmotif - 2014-02-22 04:09 (UTC) - Expand

hi have one dot of nightmare

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This kid's got potential

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oh goody

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Bertie had reasoned to himself that it was only half an hour. He'd walk about just for a half hour, avoid anyone that set his mouth to water, then right back to Terezi's little room. He was going absolutely crackers being cooped up in one place for an age, though. Young Bertram wasn't one for exercise on the whole, but he liked some change of scenery. Terezi had threatened that it was on his own head if he attacked anyone, and that she'd smelling him. She'd licked her tongue around her mouth after that, which was incredibly disconcerting.

In any case, he was out and taking full advantage of it on his way over toward the wishing pond to make one more go at appealing to their ailing deity on Ienzo's behalf. He was pulled up entirely short by a presence nearby that was shortly accompanied by a man.

He was a vampire. Bertie wasn't entirely sure how he knew that - something like with darkness inside Hajime? - but he was certain.

Bertie stood, still as a statue, on the path, watching the other man as he drew near. It wasn't often he saw another chap in a doggy suit sporting a walking stick. He didn't look or smell particularly pleasant. Certainly nothing to eat, which was a relief. "What ho," he called a bit stiffly when the other man was in hailing distance. "Just arrived?" He really hoped so. Terezi hadn't mentioned another vampire in their midst last night.

"That I have." Jacob's posture indicated a small amount of discomfort as well. It would have been far more pronounced had he not gone to check the bulletin board first and not gotten a vague idea of the village's supernatural social situation. Now it was just the regular sort of sizing up one's opponent. He walked a little faster to close some of the distance between them, and stopped a respectful distance away from Bertie. Best let both their Beasts settle themselves down before getting too chummy.

"I must say, this place is... underwhelming. And small. And hardly a place for people like us."

'People like us.' Were he any other sort of fellow out for an evening walk, Bertie might cast a sympathetic eye on him and told him that gentlemen have to make do, what? Bertie was fairly certain the cove meant something else, though. "I don't imagine it is, old boy," he replied, still guarded. "We've been trying to manage that issue, though it's gone a bit sideways."

There was a drawn out pause as he continued to consider the other man, the Beast wary within him, as well. This chap made Bertie feel like there was something unpleasant oozing down his spine. Something that was reminiscent of- "Ah! You're like Ms. Waters! The Notre Dame type?" He'd meant that to come out a little more certain, but he didn't think he was remembering that right. Natalie was from Canada, not France.

Edited 2014-02-19 23:18 (UTC)

"Sideways. Really, now? Do tell." There were some stories that he couldn't glean from the message board. In the end, he'd need to actually talk with the residents of this little pastoral prison. He does smile and try to be pleasant, but it's not a very good attempt at it. He looks too cold and too inhuman for it to possibly be genuine.

And then Bertie's muttering things about 'Notre Dame', and any effort at a smile is entirely abandoned. Not just a vampire, but an idiot vampire. "Nosferatu. For a vampire yourself, you seem woefully ignorant of the most basic information." He takes a step closer, his grip upon his walking stick tightening. "I'm not sure that I'm pleased that you've apparently been associating with my daughter." Now this might be familiar territory for Bertie, once all the unpleasant undead bits are stripped from it. Angry parental figures expressing that anger in regards to some young woman he's managed to bumble his way into the company of are almost a taste of home, aren't they?

Bertie bristled instinctively, and took a step back. "Y-your daughter?" Wait, Natalie's father was a vampire? She hadn't mentioned-

It hit Bertie like a bit of lead piping to the back of the head. Her sire. This was Natalie's sire. But, wait, he was a Waters, too? Was that coincidence, or had he... adopted the girl properly? Regardless, Bertie took another step back from the other man, holding up his hands.

"I'm not a vampire! I-I mean, I'm not meant to be," he babbled, Beast growling at the other man's presumption and audacity. There was no reason to back away. Bertie ought to stand firm, give him the talking to he deserved. Show him what becoming a vampire had meant. Except Waters was... stronger, older. "I turned Ms. Waters back into a human, and she turned me into a vampire. It-it all got mixed up, she just wanted me to understand, and now the wishing pond isn't working we're both bally well stuck."

He needed to get to the pond. He needed to wish this man human at once. The talk with Natalie about this man was rising to the forefront of his mind.

Edited (Typos) 2014-02-20 04:32 (UTC)

As Bertie retreated, Jacob advanced. If simple verbal intimidation was working, he'd hold off on the stronger measures for now. "You are a vampire. Whether you're meant to be one is irrelevant." He could fix that, of course. He could stake the man and leave him for the sunrise. He could chew him into bloody chunks. And that dark part of him that made him what he was very much wanted to. But not now, not yet, for what would that accomplish?

The explanation of the condition swapping that the two had been subject to made Jacob's lip curl in something akin to disgust. "Back into... and then..." He gave a sniff at the air, eyed the anxious young vampire up and down, and outright scowled. "You're no Nosferatu. What did that wish make you into? What clan? Answer. I would hope that my child would have taken it upon herself to educate you properly." And to find him in the daytime and throw open all the windows if he were too stupid to be allowed to continue to live. "She is well, isn't she?"

In spite of their open surroundings, Bertie was beginning to feel cornered. Angry fathers he was used to, angry fathers who also held unspeakable evil in their hearts was new. As was his wont, Bertie cowered away from Jacob. "S-stop. Stop!" he commanded with as much force behind it as he could muster. "Don't come any closer. She said I'm a Ventrue!

"She's been teaching me all sorts of things about, erm... v-vitae and... controlling the Beast and sunlight! Dashed bit of trouble the old soleil du ciel, what? She's also doing marvelously. Not a bit bad, I'd say. Happily dashing about in the sun, getting her fill of proper food, and being dippy for a young chap. Not me! She's not dippy about me. Not in the slightest!"

Jacob's head gives a sharp lift at Bertie's command to stop, but he does no such thing. He's felt such words before, and to one of his experience and power, it was nothing. "Yes, yes. You would be, thinking to be ordering me around like that." It was almost a pity. He had very much wanted to smash his walking stick into the fool's head. Now that was off the table, for he didn't want to damage the walking stick.

He does come closer, but his pace is slow. "...she's being what? To who?" And though the look of disgust and disappointment hasn't left his face, inside he's more amused than anything. How clever of her, feigning interest in some man in the interests of manipulating him. "That's a suspiciously specific denial, sir. Are you sure?" ...okay, now he's just screwing with the man.

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It was not unusual for Hajime to take a late night walk here and there. What was unusual was for Hajime to take a late night walk and to sense a a very familiar sort of power. He thought he'd had a general read on what a vampire felt like, though this one was far more similar to the kind he was most familiar with. Bertie and Ienzo read one way to his senses, but Natalie read another. That general sense of sameness made him very curious.

Jacob might notice the short man in the trenchcoat watching him as he investigates the town. He looks unassuming enough, save for the Undead power he's holding in check. Hajime is not sure how he should approach.

Jacob was sensing some untoward and not entirely pleasant things, himself. He knew the feeling of all manners of Beast, of all clans and a variety of odd bloodlines, and this ominous presence that he can feel slowly moving in his direction is like nothing he has encountered before. He briefly considers avoiding it, Obfuscating himself, and approaching it on his own terms once properly prepared, but it's a thought that's quickly discarded. He'd rather talk with whatever this was, presuming it was capable of speech.

When he finally caught sight of Hajime, he was surprised. Such strength coming from such an unassuming looking young man? But life (and unlife) was full of mysteries. When he catches Hajime looking at him Jacob stops, turns himself sharply in the young man's direction, and inclines his head in a subtle nod of greeting. "Good evening to you." His expression is flat, betraying no hint of anxiety or uncertainty.

"And to you." Hajime's own expression was much the same as he returned the nod in kind. It was easy to stay calm in situations like this given his own relative power and original tendency to flat-out forget to emote. Besides, this man was the same sort of vampire Natalie had been, he could tell that much. He was dealing with the familiar, even if this was treading into the territory of the unusually familiar. "This is your first night here, I take it."

This young fellow's demeanor was helping to paint a strange picture in Jacob's mind. With such a ferocious force within him and such a dull effect to his face and words, he had to wonder if he was in the presence of some sort of unfathomably old elder vampire. But he looked too alive for that to be it. This merited investigation. Cautious investigation. Jacob nodded to Hajime and stepped forward, swinging his walking stick casually.

"That it is. And I would presume that you've been here for some time?"

"Only about five months." Hajime shrugged. Five months wasn't much time in the grand scheme of things, though it did seem to be a long span of time to spend in a little god's strange terrarium. "Not that the place itself has been around much longer. It's a very young sort of realm. Quiet, but not much to it yet."

"The blink of an eye." The words were said easily, but he watched Hajime for his reaction to them. Jacob continued to advance, his steps slow and easy. "A young realm for a young God, then. The little poppet has strange taste in worshipers. I dare say things may not remain quiet for long."

Jacob stopped, then, planting his walking stick into the snow, fingers drumming along the head. "Forgive me. I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Jacob Waters." He did not extend his hand. "You would be?"

Hajime stood his ground, making no move to advance or retreat. "So it is." No, he didn't seem to think five months was a very long time at all. It wasn't, really, even if a lot had happened in those five months. He'd made more than a few steps down that long road towards humanity. "They've shown signs of changing. It's a very...eclectic bunch we have here. A bit of a challenge for the little one." Even if Hajime privately had to wonder about the sense of bringing in things like world destroyers.

At the name, well, there was no masking the flicker of surprise--of recognition--across Hajime's face. "I'm Hajime Aikawa." He did not know how best to continue. It was one thing when it was simply a talk in which one was feeling out another monster entering one's territory, but it was another thing entirely when the newcomer was quite possibly related to someone one knew. And it explained the similarity. "You know Natalie, then?" For she hadn't referred to her father as anything other than Father around him.

The same sort of flicker of recognition flashed across Jacob's face when Hajime gave his name. Yes, wasn't that the name on the mailbox that stood next to Natalie's? How interesting that this is who she had chosen to 'be dippy' about.

He let his features settle, and gave a curt nod. "I know her well. She's my child. And if I'm not mistaken, you know her well." The fingers that had been drumming on the walking stick's head were now clutching it tightly. "Tell me, Hajime... how is she doing, all tucked away in this little realm?"

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