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breezeshadowSunday, I got into a car accident. The car I loved, that I got as a graduation gift from my car after I totaled my LAST car, the Prius, my dream car? It is totaled. It is gone, I cleaned it out today. I have random bursts between wanting to cry, feeling mostly normal, and then wanting to OD on ibuprofen or get a cop to pull me over and convince him to shoot me or drive into a lake or something equally random and reactionary. Basically, I really loved that car.
So tonight, instead of doing work? I wrote something horrifying. Like, I horrified myself.
He sat biding his time in his cage, staring with an eerie, toothed grin at anyone who came by. They were the same captors, every time -- the old human who left him a tiny bowl of old congealed blood every morning, sometimes with water if she remembered, her mind did feel so lost, like there was too much for it to remember. And then there was her grown child, he could feel their similarities, who would sweep out as close as he could get to the cage, but never beyond the bars themselves, that would have been too dangerous, now wouldn't it? And then there was the man himself, the leader, he could tell -- he came and smiled like a teenager with his first blood let, so pleased with himself and naive, and he would speak to him. It was the same tone every time, that tone of you are inferior, and my pet.
It hurt to get even that far into their minds, but he was becoming so very used to the pain. He still passed out if he tried to break through, but certainly it was only a matter of time. The master clicked his tongue at him each day he saw him thinner and the blood barely touched.
"I can't show you off looking like that, monkey." He would look him over with such distaste, shaking his head. "I thought you things were clean at the least."
He took Monkey to be his name; he had long forgotten his real one, anyway, if he had ever had one.
In his free time, when the captors were gone, he'd spend his time nibbling at his claws, or the tips of his wings, or his tail, or really whatever body part seemed like it would be tasty that time. His wings were scarred and barely hurt from it anymore, and his tail was mostly hairless at the top; but what did it matter? He had no one to impress, and besides, he was starting to kind of like it. It made him stand out. And it tasted so much better than the congealed blood.
Or sometimes he'd watch the other inhabitants, but they just made him angry, mostly. The great striped feline just paced over and over, rubbing itself bare on the bars, sometimes slamming its great paws into them as if it that'd somehow work. He had a weird feeling that the cat with the fluffy neck was actually dead; it never seemed to move, or eat, or do anything but look very sullen.
In fact the only other inhabitant that took his interest was the demon. Demons were to be respected, powerful beings they were, gods of the underworld if you asked the tales. And so to see this one in a cage was such a disgrace. Gods didn't belong in boxes, and this one clearly agreed. Its hackles raised every time a captor entered, its lips quivering just a bit. It ate whatever they brought, and was easily the stockiest creature there, despite the flimsy diet. It did not move often, except to stretch. Otherwise it just stood at the bars and watched.
Gods were clever things, after all.
That night was a dull one, though; the captors had been interesting, the woman was coughing horribly. He wasn't sure who would bring the food if she died; probably no one. He wasn't sure it'd be a tragedy. The child and man both seemed very worried, but yet the master still found time to scold his Monkey for not taking care of himself.
But he was taking just fine care of himself. His claws had never looked better, perhaps because he had nibbled the flesh away from them, but he thought that was just an advantage. And he had found that if he was very careful, he could sharpen his teeth on the bars without getting too horrible of a headache.
He was doing just that when the field suddenly dropped.
It registered right away to him, of course; suddenly his mind was able to read the entire house, the entire town, perhaps even the entire world, such an explosion of thoughts came to him. That actually hurt more than the shield had, but only for a moment; soon his mind remembered and kicked in, and he dampened down almost everything... But not quite. Oh no, he kept the sweet, delicious thoughts of the captors in mind, could almost feel their heartbeats just through the connection.
He did not wait to see if the field returned. Instead he blinked straight outside of the cage, without touching the bars; why waste effort? He heard the other beings shuffle; the striped tiger paused to stare at him, while the demon stretched, then looked over at him with those brilliant, god eyes.
In a second, without even having to focus, he twisted the bars aside on every cage. The striped feline immediately leapt out, as if it had been planning for this, then snarled at the maned beast, who was a bit more nervous about this whole thing. They would be useless, then; it would only take a few seconds before they started beating each other up instead of the captors.
As for the demon, it was a god. And thought it had stepped out of the cage, yawning massively, muscles thin but still there, he knew better than to trust a god.
So with a delighted little laugh he bounded across the little yard, blowing the door to the house straight off of the wall with his mind. The power he could feel was brilliant -- he could spend all day just blasting every piece of the house apart, feeling as the entire world reacted to the slightest little touch. He blew out the windows as he run by and grinned happily.
But he had a task. He was oh so very hungry. And in an instant he became serious, the grin hungry and angry, and he cackled madly, tearing up the stairs. There was a blood he had been savouring for so long, feeling how it pulsed instead their minds...
The child showed up first. He was holding a glass of water, but dropped that pretty fast when he saw Monkey bounding up the stairs. He did not even try to run, the fool; Monkey slammed into him, digging his claws into the man's skull as he pulled him down, tearing his fangs into his soft face. The human tried to scream but It was muffled as his face collapsed inward, the vampire's claws digging into his head, clicking against his skull as he ripped trhough. Finding the bone still too hard -- after all of that effort, all of that careful sharpening -- he switched to the man's neck and tore it open; blood splurted from the arteries and he drank at it eagerly. It was just as delicious as he expected, so fresh, so young, so deserved.
The man had long stopped gurgling by the time Monkey heard a horrified shriek. He jerked his head up to see the woman, backing up frantically, stumbling over objects behind her, finally just slipping on the floor and falling hard, wincing. Old bodies could only handle so much. She wouldn't be tasty, he didn't think -- but at that point he did not care about how her blood would taste, so much that he should have it. He bounded over to her in two leaps, ignoring her frantic wordless pleas, clawing her face out, feeling her eyes burst, ripping out her throat so she would finally be quiet, tearing into her face until all he could see was red and torn muscle and even a bit of that interesting brain, so boring in person, out of its shell.
He heard the click of a gun, felt the man's mind immediately -- he knew he was coming for a while, felt his fear and anger, about how dare this animal get loose and slaughter his family. The gun fired uselessly at his dead mate's body; he had already sprung up to the ceiling, bouncing off of it and throwing the gun aside with an easy wrench. Judging by the pop and the guy's pained scream, he may have almost thrown his arms with it. Oh well. He wouldn't need them.
The vampire had really been planning to savour this kill; it was so carefully planned. He had thought of so many different methods he could use, so many ways to drag it out, make sure his victory was known by this man. And yet when his claws dug into the man's flopping arms, all he felt was the blind rage -- he just felt himself screaming and tearing at anything that felt like flesh, feeling the man try to squirm away and just continuing to tear, and dig, and rip...
And so by the time he realized there was silence, he also realized that his prize was a pile of red mess on the floor. How inappropriate; he thought he had better control than that. He spat red out of his mouth -- the man tasted vile -- and thought for a moment.
He could feel more minds. Many more, in fact, so many more. And they did not feel that far away. He grinned, curling his tail around his legs, not noticing as the fur slid into blood and clung to muscle fiber. They were all little prizes. There were so many of them, each would be a special challenge. Stalking them, hunting them down, and then finally, getting the kill...
He did not bother to clean the blood off of him as he stepped out, bounding through the house, slamming open the door. He had a hunt.
~~
Mahli found himself dreaming of giant tea leaves crushing him in a teapot when a headache woke him up. The pain pulsed through his head in a sudden burst of illness and exhaustion, and then, panic -- and by then he was awake, panting, looking around his room, hearing his brother snore two rooms down.
The ache was not quite gone, he realized -- something was searching around, pushing into his mind despite the effort, determined to figure out who he was. He pushed the force out... And felt nothing back. Whoever it was, they did not seem concerned.
And Malachi's snoring had stopped. With a frown Mahli struggled out of bed, groping for his cane, almost falling onto the floor in the process. He had managed to regain some dignity by the time Malachi opened his door, looking frazzled and worried.
"What was that." They never did not explain much to each other; it wasn't entirely necessary.
"I don't know." He searched it out, then -- and found it eerily difficult to find. Then, at least, he recognized the intensity, the strength... And slouched, heart slowly turning cold. "Oh, god."
"What is it?" Malachi frowned. "It was strong, way too strong--"
"How many vampires are on Eroqu?" He limped over to the closet, groped around for clothes -- anything would do. Being naked would do; it wasn't like he needed clothing for telepathy.
"I... Not many. Are vampires that strong?"
"Sort of. Usually it's very well-controlled. Some sort of weird network of theirs." He found a shirt. That was a step in the right direction. He supposed pajama pants would be okay, and, leaning his cane against the closet door, struggled the sweater on. "This one... Is not in that. At all."
"What does that mean?" Malachi sounded beyond baffled, but Mahli could hear the concern.
He felt it, then, as he kept a constant eye on the vampire: a deep, rich satisfaction, smothered in hate and hunger. Briefly, for a moment, he took a peek through the vampire's vision... And froze in horror, almost collapsing, turning ice-cold. "Well in this case it means he's eating someone."
"He's what? I thought... Vampires didn't?"
"They don't. Vampires are usually very careful not to kill prey. This one does not care about being careful." He grabbed his cane and tried to pinpoint the vampire's location -- but that was never entirely easy, not even in Eroqu, where telepathy came so easily. Frowning heavily, he glanced at Malachi. "I can't really locate him. I... Hang on."
It was a random idea, stupid, but possible; he didn't know who else may be helpful. And so he stretched out his telepathy, breathing deeply as he tried to sense across the world -- and desperately, faintly, made a ping outward.
The return was only a minute later, considering the distance. The presence in his mind felt serious and concerned -- not the aggravation and distaste he was used to from this vampire.
I would have ignored you, but you seem honestly worried, and that's not an emotion I'm used to from you. Nur sounded tired, perhaps a tad annoyed -- but mostly just curious.
What can cause a rogue vampire?
The connection felt still and icy, even across the distance. Trauma, usually. What happened?
I'd try to give you the connection but I'm--
He felt her surprise. You're concerned for me? I'm touched. Tell me what happened.
I was woken up by a telepathic burst. And when I sought it out... There's a vampire killing humans. He ate the first one and... He seems to have gotten two more in the time I've conversed with you--
Fucking hell, you're getting that? On Eroqu? He could hear the pain in her voice -- not entirely what he had expected, and then he remembered her history and winced. The voice turned wry. Yeah thanks for the reminder. But oh great Oerdum. Get rid of that thing.
He paused for a second, the equivalent of staring blankly. What?
Your rogue vampire has killed three people in the span of what, ten or twenty minutes? Yeah during the worst of the genocide it wasn't often that a vampire like that showed up. He's going to go out and kill a lot more if you don't stop him. You may have to kill him in return, I don't know, but I remember the reports of this on Garanee. It's one reason I left. Fucking Welen is a better scene than having to block off former acquaintances because they simply turned insane.
This happens often? His stomach churned as Malachi threw him a coat; even as he kept up the connection with Nur he searched more desperately for the vampire, wishing that feeling the bloodlust so easily would make him easier to find--
Yeah. I can feel it through you. Mahli, humans to vampires, on a base level, are interesting prey; it's our civilized nature that keeps us from going after you as food. Once we lose those manners? Your average human is dead. You have to get rid of him. He's not going to get better immediately, he may never get better. I'll find him if you want.
You're on the other side of the worl-- And then suddenly he felt the vampire's location; not exactly, but he had a sense of where, how far to go, where to teleport. How the--
We work in weird ways. Must say I'd rather have that out of my head though, so if you have the location, I'm setting it loose. Bloodlust vampires always make me want to vomit. He could feel it, too; the connection had turned sick and upset, churning with emotion. For the sake of diplomacy you may want to just subdue it. But if you can't? I won't be feeling any remorse.
And with that she vanished, and he looked over at Malachi.
"I have to go."
And so he did.
En... Enjoy I guess? I actually lately find violence to be really unsettling, so I think I triggered MYSELF. Fail.
Think I'm going to go sleep, now. I have nothing to do tomorrow, and I think I need the rest.
Tschuess.
So tonight, instead of doing work? I wrote something horrifying. Like, I horrified myself.
He sat biding his time in his cage, staring with an eerie, toothed grin at anyone who came by. They were the same captors, every time -- the old human who left him a tiny bowl of old congealed blood every morning, sometimes with water if she remembered, her mind did feel so lost, like there was too much for it to remember. And then there was her grown child, he could feel their similarities, who would sweep out as close as he could get to the cage, but never beyond the bars themselves, that would have been too dangerous, now wouldn't it? And then there was the man himself, the leader, he could tell -- he came and smiled like a teenager with his first blood let, so pleased with himself and naive, and he would speak to him. It was the same tone every time, that tone of you are inferior, and my pet.
It hurt to get even that far into their minds, but he was becoming so very used to the pain. He still passed out if he tried to break through, but certainly it was only a matter of time. The master clicked his tongue at him each day he saw him thinner and the blood barely touched.
"I can't show you off looking like that, monkey." He would look him over with such distaste, shaking his head. "I thought you things were clean at the least."
He took Monkey to be his name; he had long forgotten his real one, anyway, if he had ever had one.
In his free time, when the captors were gone, he'd spend his time nibbling at his claws, or the tips of his wings, or his tail, or really whatever body part seemed like it would be tasty that time. His wings were scarred and barely hurt from it anymore, and his tail was mostly hairless at the top; but what did it matter? He had no one to impress, and besides, he was starting to kind of like it. It made him stand out. And it tasted so much better than the congealed blood.
Or sometimes he'd watch the other inhabitants, but they just made him angry, mostly. The great striped feline just paced over and over, rubbing itself bare on the bars, sometimes slamming its great paws into them as if it that'd somehow work. He had a weird feeling that the cat with the fluffy neck was actually dead; it never seemed to move, or eat, or do anything but look very sullen.
In fact the only other inhabitant that took his interest was the demon. Demons were to be respected, powerful beings they were, gods of the underworld if you asked the tales. And so to see this one in a cage was such a disgrace. Gods didn't belong in boxes, and this one clearly agreed. Its hackles raised every time a captor entered, its lips quivering just a bit. It ate whatever they brought, and was easily the stockiest creature there, despite the flimsy diet. It did not move often, except to stretch. Otherwise it just stood at the bars and watched.
Gods were clever things, after all.
That night was a dull one, though; the captors had been interesting, the woman was coughing horribly. He wasn't sure who would bring the food if she died; probably no one. He wasn't sure it'd be a tragedy. The child and man both seemed very worried, but yet the master still found time to scold his Monkey for not taking care of himself.
But he was taking just fine care of himself. His claws had never looked better, perhaps because he had nibbled the flesh away from them, but he thought that was just an advantage. And he had found that if he was very careful, he could sharpen his teeth on the bars without getting too horrible of a headache.
He was doing just that when the field suddenly dropped.
It registered right away to him, of course; suddenly his mind was able to read the entire house, the entire town, perhaps even the entire world, such an explosion of thoughts came to him. That actually hurt more than the shield had, but only for a moment; soon his mind remembered and kicked in, and he dampened down almost everything... But not quite. Oh no, he kept the sweet, delicious thoughts of the captors in mind, could almost feel their heartbeats just through the connection.
He did not wait to see if the field returned. Instead he blinked straight outside of the cage, without touching the bars; why waste effort? He heard the other beings shuffle; the striped tiger paused to stare at him, while the demon stretched, then looked over at him with those brilliant, god eyes.
In a second, without even having to focus, he twisted the bars aside on every cage. The striped feline immediately leapt out, as if it had been planning for this, then snarled at the maned beast, who was a bit more nervous about this whole thing. They would be useless, then; it would only take a few seconds before they started beating each other up instead of the captors.
As for the demon, it was a god. And thought it had stepped out of the cage, yawning massively, muscles thin but still there, he knew better than to trust a god.
So with a delighted little laugh he bounded across the little yard, blowing the door to the house straight off of the wall with his mind. The power he could feel was brilliant -- he could spend all day just blasting every piece of the house apart, feeling as the entire world reacted to the slightest little touch. He blew out the windows as he run by and grinned happily.
But he had a task. He was oh so very hungry. And in an instant he became serious, the grin hungry and angry, and he cackled madly, tearing up the stairs. There was a blood he had been savouring for so long, feeling how it pulsed instead their minds...
The child showed up first. He was holding a glass of water, but dropped that pretty fast when he saw Monkey bounding up the stairs. He did not even try to run, the fool; Monkey slammed into him, digging his claws into the man's skull as he pulled him down, tearing his fangs into his soft face. The human tried to scream but It was muffled as his face collapsed inward, the vampire's claws digging into his head, clicking against his skull as he ripped trhough. Finding the bone still too hard -- after all of that effort, all of that careful sharpening -- he switched to the man's neck and tore it open; blood splurted from the arteries and he drank at it eagerly. It was just as delicious as he expected, so fresh, so young, so deserved.
The man had long stopped gurgling by the time Monkey heard a horrified shriek. He jerked his head up to see the woman, backing up frantically, stumbling over objects behind her, finally just slipping on the floor and falling hard, wincing. Old bodies could only handle so much. She wouldn't be tasty, he didn't think -- but at that point he did not care about how her blood would taste, so much that he should have it. He bounded over to her in two leaps, ignoring her frantic wordless pleas, clawing her face out, feeling her eyes burst, ripping out her throat so she would finally be quiet, tearing into her face until all he could see was red and torn muscle and even a bit of that interesting brain, so boring in person, out of its shell.
He heard the click of a gun, felt the man's mind immediately -- he knew he was coming for a while, felt his fear and anger, about how dare this animal get loose and slaughter his family. The gun fired uselessly at his dead mate's body; he had already sprung up to the ceiling, bouncing off of it and throwing the gun aside with an easy wrench. Judging by the pop and the guy's pained scream, he may have almost thrown his arms with it. Oh well. He wouldn't need them.
The vampire had really been planning to savour this kill; it was so carefully planned. He had thought of so many different methods he could use, so many ways to drag it out, make sure his victory was known by this man. And yet when his claws dug into the man's flopping arms, all he felt was the blind rage -- he just felt himself screaming and tearing at anything that felt like flesh, feeling the man try to squirm away and just continuing to tear, and dig, and rip...
And so by the time he realized there was silence, he also realized that his prize was a pile of red mess on the floor. How inappropriate; he thought he had better control than that. He spat red out of his mouth -- the man tasted vile -- and thought for a moment.
He could feel more minds. Many more, in fact, so many more. And they did not feel that far away. He grinned, curling his tail around his legs, not noticing as the fur slid into blood and clung to muscle fiber. They were all little prizes. There were so many of them, each would be a special challenge. Stalking them, hunting them down, and then finally, getting the kill...
He did not bother to clean the blood off of him as he stepped out, bounding through the house, slamming open the door. He had a hunt.
Mahli found himself dreaming of giant tea leaves crushing him in a teapot when a headache woke him up. The pain pulsed through his head in a sudden burst of illness and exhaustion, and then, panic -- and by then he was awake, panting, looking around his room, hearing his brother snore two rooms down.
The ache was not quite gone, he realized -- something was searching around, pushing into his mind despite the effort, determined to figure out who he was. He pushed the force out... And felt nothing back. Whoever it was, they did not seem concerned.
And Malachi's snoring had stopped. With a frown Mahli struggled out of bed, groping for his cane, almost falling onto the floor in the process. He had managed to regain some dignity by the time Malachi opened his door, looking frazzled and worried.
"What was that." They never did not explain much to each other; it wasn't entirely necessary.
"I don't know." He searched it out, then -- and found it eerily difficult to find. Then, at least, he recognized the intensity, the strength... And slouched, heart slowly turning cold. "Oh, god."
"What is it?" Malachi frowned. "It was strong, way too strong--"
"How many vampires are on Eroqu?" He limped over to the closet, groped around for clothes -- anything would do. Being naked would do; it wasn't like he needed clothing for telepathy.
"I... Not many. Are vampires that strong?"
"Sort of. Usually it's very well-controlled. Some sort of weird network of theirs." He found a shirt. That was a step in the right direction. He supposed pajama pants would be okay, and, leaning his cane against the closet door, struggled the sweater on. "This one... Is not in that. At all."
"What does that mean?" Malachi sounded beyond baffled, but Mahli could hear the concern.
He felt it, then, as he kept a constant eye on the vampire: a deep, rich satisfaction, smothered in hate and hunger. Briefly, for a moment, he took a peek through the vampire's vision... And froze in horror, almost collapsing, turning ice-cold. "Well in this case it means he's eating someone."
"He's what? I thought... Vampires didn't?"
"They don't. Vampires are usually very careful not to kill prey. This one does not care about being careful." He grabbed his cane and tried to pinpoint the vampire's location -- but that was never entirely easy, not even in Eroqu, where telepathy came so easily. Frowning heavily, he glanced at Malachi. "I can't really locate him. I... Hang on."
It was a random idea, stupid, but possible; he didn't know who else may be helpful. And so he stretched out his telepathy, breathing deeply as he tried to sense across the world -- and desperately, faintly, made a ping outward.
The return was only a minute later, considering the distance. The presence in his mind felt serious and concerned -- not the aggravation and distaste he was used to from this vampire.
I would have ignored you, but you seem honestly worried, and that's not an emotion I'm used to from you. Nur sounded tired, perhaps a tad annoyed -- but mostly just curious.
What can cause a rogue vampire?
The connection felt still and icy, even across the distance. Trauma, usually. What happened?
I'd try to give you the connection but I'm--
He felt her surprise. You're concerned for me? I'm touched. Tell me what happened.
I was woken up by a telepathic burst. And when I sought it out... There's a vampire killing humans. He ate the first one and... He seems to have gotten two more in the time I've conversed with you--
Fucking hell, you're getting that? On Eroqu? He could hear the pain in her voice -- not entirely what he had expected, and then he remembered her history and winced. The voice turned wry. Yeah thanks for the reminder. But oh great Oerdum. Get rid of that thing.
He paused for a second, the equivalent of staring blankly. What?
Your rogue vampire has killed three people in the span of what, ten or twenty minutes? Yeah during the worst of the genocide it wasn't often that a vampire like that showed up. He's going to go out and kill a lot more if you don't stop him. You may have to kill him in return, I don't know, but I remember the reports of this on Garanee. It's one reason I left. Fucking Welen is a better scene than having to block off former acquaintances because they simply turned insane.
This happens often? His stomach churned as Malachi threw him a coat; even as he kept up the connection with Nur he searched more desperately for the vampire, wishing that feeling the bloodlust so easily would make him easier to find--
Yeah. I can feel it through you. Mahli, humans to vampires, on a base level, are interesting prey; it's our civilized nature that keeps us from going after you as food. Once we lose those manners? Your average human is dead. You have to get rid of him. He's not going to get better immediately, he may never get better. I'll find him if you want.
You're on the other side of the worl-- And then suddenly he felt the vampire's location; not exactly, but he had a sense of where, how far to go, where to teleport. How the--
We work in weird ways. Must say I'd rather have that out of my head though, so if you have the location, I'm setting it loose. Bloodlust vampires always make me want to vomit. He could feel it, too; the connection had turned sick and upset, churning with emotion. For the sake of diplomacy you may want to just subdue it. But if you can't? I won't be feeling any remorse.
And with that she vanished, and he looked over at Malachi.
"I have to go."
And so he did.
En... Enjoy I guess? I actually lately find violence to be really unsettling, so I think I triggered MYSELF. Fail.
Think I'm going to go sleep, now. I have nothing to do tomorrow, and I think I need the rest.
Tschuess.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 01:49 am (UTC)I'll have to do a second read for any serious in-depth concrit, but the only thing that threw me straight off was referring to the child as a man during the mauling - if he is, by this time, old enough to be a teen or a young adult, referring to him as that, or as a "son" rather than a "child" would be more consistent and less confusing.
As for the lifestuffs... what can I say? I definitely understand why you're so upset, and just as much worried and hoping all those little self-destructive urges don't go anywhere. If you think they might - call me, for serious, night or day. Meanwhile, massive hugs and much sympathy.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 03:56 pm (UTC)Things that are not good: self-destructive thoughts. Call me if you need to, all right?
no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 09:13 pm (UTC)And thank you to you and Ren both for the offer to call. I wish I could say I'd take you guys up on that right away, but unfortunately the phone phobia tends to combine with the "Don't bother anyone" phobia, and thus I generally avoid calling. *smile*
no subject
Date: 2012-03-31 11:02 pm (UTC)Ultimately? The story is my concern, and in my fiction that requires a good deal of brutality.