Overwhelmed? Was that it? Was that what she was feeling? Why did it have to be now? After killing a mindless undead creature like a zombie her mind decides it's too much? Burning corpses, feeding on living human beings, killing a teacher in his own office...all of these things register as completely normal to her but killing a zombie is the straw that breaks the camel's back? Her frustrations left her calm and quiet and almost seething with rage but none of it was directed outwards. No, it was all focused on herself. She was disappointed in herself, angry with herself. Her emotions tonight were just out of whack, trauma maybe? Was it the process of being turned that had her feeling like she should have been locked up in that asylum in the quarantined part of town? Was it something to do with Jesse? Maybe his bite inflicted madness on others, maybe it amplified...something inside of her? Too many questions, there were just too many questions.
Abigail remained silent as she watched Jesse drop back down in to the sewer and she quickly followed suit, she seemed and felt so much more....deadly now than the first time they came through these sewers. There was a fire burning in her gut fueled by her own self-loathing and, like anyone else, the only urge was to lash out, make herself feel better some how. Before tonight she would have just sat on her bed, thrown on some loud music and meditated the negativity away but now that she was this everything seemed so much more intense and powerful. She tried to push it down, tried to push it away and tried to keep her wits about her as she moved through the sewers behind Jesse but it was all too obvious to even the simplest person in the world that those gears in Abigail's head were working at a million miles an hour and they showed no signs of stopping any time soon. This was something she was going to have to figure out, something that she needed to get a hold on and quickly before she turned in to some feral mindless emotionally fueled monster. Part of her wondered what Jesse would think then, what if he had just turned a woman in to his own personal weapon? Point her at someone and just let her go at them like some kind of murderous wind up toy. That was actually a thought that made her smile, a murderous wind up toy. She'd have to look in to that one of these days. She was sure there was someone in the city that could arrange that bit for her.
Sadly, Abigail hadn't even paid attention to the route they took. She'd missed the sight of the murdered man that Jesse had easily taken care of, missed each twist and turn and missed the sight of Jesse's bum climbing up the ladder that would take them both out of the cool crisp night. Abigail, you suck. It was the foremost thought in her mind as she climbed her way out of the dark and humid bowls of the city, the night air filling her undead lungs as she inhaled and exhaled slowly to remove the feeling of the humidity from within her. She'd strayed behind a bit too much and Jesse had a good dozen feet on her, as she quickened her pace to catch up she couldn't help but wonder at the thoughts going through his head as well. Foolish girl. Here she was trying to sort out hr own head and now she was worrying about him too? Well why didn't she just worry about what the rest of the vampires in the city were going to think of her too? Why not just overburden herself with everything imaginable. Pathetic as though Jesse may think it to be, the moment her mind touched on those thoughts they stuck. Like sticky tack. Her mind was definitely ripe for the filling, if only she could find a way to empty it of all the worry and paranoia and disappointment and anger...if she could find a way to get a grasp on all of this and figure out how to reign herself in then there was a minuscule chance that perhaps she could actually be the vampire of Jesse's dreams. Once she figured out what that was after all.
Now she'd just established another goal. Figure Jesse out.
She decided that maybe she should stop staring at the back of his head as if she could just open it up and see how everything worked. Instead her attention should probably be on where they were headed. Wickbridge. Again. This seemed to be almost the center of town what with all the hustle and bustle going on. The bank was absolutely packed, the store she had visited with Jesse earlier seemed a little more full and there were clubs and restaurants still open...this was definitely the heart of the city. Or maybe some other very vital organ of it. It brought a smile to her face to remember all the times she'd been down here as a human being, oblivious to so much. Now, thanks to Jesse, it was seeing the world for the first time through the best set of eyes anyone could ever have. They headed south, then west (or so she thought), the possibilities of where he could be taking them for this 'talk' swam through her head as she followed him in absolute silence. One way or another, there would be answers very very soon.
All lips go blue {Jesse}
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Jesse Fforde
- Registered User
- Posts: 3487
- Joined: 30 Jun 2012, 09:32
- CrowNet Handle: Fox
Re: All lips go blue {Jesse}
I am hyper-aware of our surroundings. Although I do not expect any danger to come to us out here in the open, with so many witnesses, one can never be too cautious. I’m not sure whether it’s adrenaline running through my veins, or something completely different, but somehow I feel like Abigail and I stand out like giants in a crowd of ants. Maybe I’m just far too egotistical for my own good, or maybe I just feel all-powerful because of the fact that I now have a woman beside me that was once an ant, but is now a giant. And why? Because I made her that way. I am proud—both of the act itself and of the woman I performed it upon. The pride wells up inside of me until I feel as if it could explode, and in doing so, bring the attention of every nearby witness upon us.
Of course, that doesn’t happen. No one pays us attention, except in passing. I know that Abigail is still following me; not only because I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but it’s as if I can feel her, as if we are connected in such a way that should she move, she’ll tug an invisible string and I’ll be aware of exactly where she is or where she has gone. I know that it doesn’t work that way, and that if she did choose to disappear I wouldn’t be able to track via the invisible string. But there’s no other that I can explain it.
Although we are covered in grime, no one seems to care, or to notice. They’re all wrapped up in their own lives, hardly sparing a glance for the two tattooed people moving amongst them, stealthy and steady. That’s completely fine by me. I walk onward, with a purpose. I could have taken us to the train station, but why would I, when it’s not even that far to walk? I prefer walking. It invigorates the body, pumping the blood in a way that the heart no longer can. Or maybe I’m imagining that, too.
I slow my pace so that Abigail comes up beside me, rather than following along behind me like some lost puppy. Sure, she might be a lost puppy, but she’s my lost puppy. And thus she’ll all the respect owed to equals. Although I cannot read her thoughts, and her expression does not give much away, there’s something about the tenseness of her limbs. Something about the way she carries herself, or the set of her lips. As if there’s something heavy weighing upon her and she’s struggling to push it off. Completely understandable. She’s probably weighed down by questions. I’ll try to ease the weight, soon. For now, I throw an arm around her shoulder and pull her close, using the opposite hand to ruffle her hair. My way of saying Cheer the **** up. It’s all going to be dandy. I let her go and grin, broadly, warmly.
By this time we’ve reached the gates of Larch Court. It’s a fenced off estate, inside of which are houses that look as if they belong to people who are very well off. It’s not normally the kind of place I’d pick, and not, I gather, the kind of place others would imaging I’d pick. Which is exactly why I picked it. Got to keep people on their toes. The gate opens to the public, and I walk straight inside – straight toward the first row of houses, and the pathway that runs between them. In this estate, the sounds of the city are somewhat muffled. The streets are clean, and though some of the lights are on in some of the houses, and though from somewhere I can hear the sound a TV set, there’s not much else happening. It’s quiet, and peaceful. It gives off a vibe of safety, though there really isn’t anywhere in this city that anyone can be completely safe.
The first thing I do upon entering number 12 is to find the box within which I have stashed a whole bunch of spare keys. The first thing I do, after turning on a couple of warm lights, is hand Abigail one. The house itself is in disarray. There’s not much here, yet. I plan for it to be a safe haven for all my progeny. At the moment, I’ve only got the bunk beds set up in the other room, and a few bean bags set up in the main room. But it will do, for now. For our purposes. There are showers, too, which I assume Abigail will want to use. Although I have no female clothes, here, I’m sure she won’t mind borrowing a shirt. Or something.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I make a wide gesture to the room beyond the front door, indicating that Abigail should get comfortable. I drop my bag on the kitchen counter, from within which I pull the notepad and pen. I have a feeling I’m going to be doing a lot of writing over the next few hours.
Of course, that doesn’t happen. No one pays us attention, except in passing. I know that Abigail is still following me; not only because I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but it’s as if I can feel her, as if we are connected in such a way that should she move, she’ll tug an invisible string and I’ll be aware of exactly where she is or where she has gone. I know that it doesn’t work that way, and that if she did choose to disappear I wouldn’t be able to track via the invisible string. But there’s no other that I can explain it.
Although we are covered in grime, no one seems to care, or to notice. They’re all wrapped up in their own lives, hardly sparing a glance for the two tattooed people moving amongst them, stealthy and steady. That’s completely fine by me. I walk onward, with a purpose. I could have taken us to the train station, but why would I, when it’s not even that far to walk? I prefer walking. It invigorates the body, pumping the blood in a way that the heart no longer can. Or maybe I’m imagining that, too.
I slow my pace so that Abigail comes up beside me, rather than following along behind me like some lost puppy. Sure, she might be a lost puppy, but she’s my lost puppy. And thus she’ll all the respect owed to equals. Although I cannot read her thoughts, and her expression does not give much away, there’s something about the tenseness of her limbs. Something about the way she carries herself, or the set of her lips. As if there’s something heavy weighing upon her and she’s struggling to push it off. Completely understandable. She’s probably weighed down by questions. I’ll try to ease the weight, soon. For now, I throw an arm around her shoulder and pull her close, using the opposite hand to ruffle her hair. My way of saying Cheer the **** up. It’s all going to be dandy. I let her go and grin, broadly, warmly.
By this time we’ve reached the gates of Larch Court. It’s a fenced off estate, inside of which are houses that look as if they belong to people who are very well off. It’s not normally the kind of place I’d pick, and not, I gather, the kind of place others would imaging I’d pick. Which is exactly why I picked it. Got to keep people on their toes. The gate opens to the public, and I walk straight inside – straight toward the first row of houses, and the pathway that runs between them. In this estate, the sounds of the city are somewhat muffled. The streets are clean, and though some of the lights are on in some of the houses, and though from somewhere I can hear the sound a TV set, there’s not much else happening. It’s quiet, and peaceful. It gives off a vibe of safety, though there really isn’t anywhere in this city that anyone can be completely safe.
The first thing I do upon entering number 12 is to find the box within which I have stashed a whole bunch of spare keys. The first thing I do, after turning on a couple of warm lights, is hand Abigail one. The house itself is in disarray. There’s not much here, yet. I plan for it to be a safe haven for all my progeny. At the moment, I’ve only got the bunk beds set up in the other room, and a few bean bags set up in the main room. But it will do, for now. For our purposes. There are showers, too, which I assume Abigail will want to use. Although I have no female clothes, here, I’m sure she won’t mind borrowing a shirt. Or something.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I make a wide gesture to the room beyond the front door, indicating that Abigail should get comfortable. I drop my bag on the kitchen counter, from within which I pull the notepad and pen. I have a feeling I’m going to be doing a lot of writing over the next few hours.
FIRE and BLOOD