Commingling [Pyper]

[Jesse Fforde]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jesse Fforde> [Text] I haven't had any human reveal himself to me recently. Commingle?

<Pyper> Pyper's phone rang and she stared at it. A number she didn't recognize but the mesage revealed the identity. She texted back: [txt] It's a man. Tan. Facial hair on his chin. Long, long brown hair. I walked in your skin, and saw it. Do vampires make hushed friendships with humans?

<Jesse Fforde> [Text] When the humans are thralls of other vampires, yes. Slaves, if you will.

<Pyper> [txt] Why would you want to enslave the very thing you were? Are you self loathing?

<Jesse Fforde> [text] I didn't do it. It's not my human.

<Pyper> [txt] You can't remember, you said. Where are you? I don't like not being able to look at someone's face. I learn more.

<Jesse Fforde> [text] You described him. I know who you mean, now. It was a chaotic time, when I met him. I'm in the sewers. Where are you?

<Pyper> [txt] In a building. Quarantined. Sitting with this resting man. He looks like the missing link. Has dead eyes.

<Jesse Fforde> *Curious, in the very least, Jesse puts away his phone and weaves through the sewers until he finds the entrance to the Quarantine Zone. Of course he has no idea what Pyper looks like. Stepping into Corvidea - as that's where most of them like to gather - Jesse pulls out his phone again* [Text] You're going to have to be a bit more specific.

[Wearing]

<Pyper> Pyper might have seen him coming into the building just as she exited through the doors. After Paige's forced bath, the Telepath looked like any other; the twigs and grime had been washed out of her hair. The thick blonde, partial dreadlocks were brushed out and fell over either shoulder in large, loose curls. She walked like a lanky, lethargic ghoul. Her phone came out again. Brrr. Brrrr. [txt] Asylum. Go in. Then west once inside the building. I'm in a corner.

[Clean appearance/wearing]

<Jesse Fforde> In the distance, Jesse can see Leah. He pauses just inside the door - he'll come back. She'll probably still be around. He exits the Flats and trudges through the long grass to the Asylum. A zombie ambles toward him but he just gives the creature a disdainful look as he pushes through the door and enters the decrepit building. He turns West and heads for the corner, where he finds a petite blonde. "Pyper?" he asks with arched brow, his voice broken and gravelly.

<Pyper> From the endless void of her dress pockets, the Telepath busied herself with the zombie ears collected from two our of three zombies she was able to overcome. Hollywood tainted her perception of the undead; they were suppose to be slow, easy to brain. Along two paling arms, bite marks dented and maimed the flesh. Presents from the zombies that Pyper managed to untangle and run from. Upon hearing her name, dark but unfocused eyes rolled up to observe the man who had approached her. His body was littered with tattoos. Head shaved. With darker skin. He could have been related to Leah before, it was hard to decipher. In his mind, her voice drew out, "I'm Pyper." Confirmation.

<Jesse Fforde> He narrows his eyes. Her lips don't move - there's that voice in his head again. Silence blooms, but in Jesse's opinion, it's not an awkward silence. He's so very used to silence, as a matter of course. Once being mute, and having been that way for over a decade, he is accustomed to taking his time to respond to things. He pushes his hands into his pockets, licks his lips, and glances into the distance as an echo rings echoes down an empty hall. Only then does he turn back to the blonde. "Poking around in people's memories - is that a habit you learned from the almighty banshee, or are you just a curious sort?" he asks.

<Pyper> Almighty banshee? Maybe those were the things she asked Paige about that lurk in the woods. The ones she saw crossing the border into Harper Rock. They were fast, only sneaks of skin to be seen before they were gone. Both light brows wrinkled, her mind turning faster and thoughts came clashing into others. A head was such a noisy thing. "Is she the queen of the forest creatures? Paige didn't know what they were either. I like to know people. I walk in your skin, I know a little more of you. It was nice to be tall."

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse laughs, the sound rolling from his throat like a rumbling wave, an earthquake of broken noise. His bright blues gleam with amusement as he shakes his head. "No. That's how I refer to the redhead who is our sire. She's insane. Like a Banshee," he says. He thinks Phoenix'd probably be flattered to be considered a queen of the forest creatures. "And what else did you learn about me?" he asks, curious, rather than irritated. He probably should be irritated, but he isn't. Besides which, to show irritation would only make him look guilty of something. And he doesn't think he should feel guilty about anything, nothing at all.

<Pyper> Phoenix is a banshee? This man knew more about the woman who took her life for stabbing her business secretary. The blonde abandoned her zombie ears and out of habit, pulled at a single whorl of knotted hair. Paige's efforts in making her presentable the other night were ruined by her incessant need to explore the deeper trenches of the sewers. Muck caked and held the knot in place better than any wax. "Phoenix's mind isn't broken. She's getting married," her thoughts were coming out in pieces. "I learned more from Leah than what was in your head. She said she tried to mug you. Why did you kill her?"

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse scoffs. What, because she's getting married, Phoenix's mind couldn't possibly be broken? Jesse would beg to differ, and would also question Axel's choice in bedfellow. But he's already told Axel he doesn't give a **** who he sleeps with, and marriage is just another step. He'd prefer not to talk about Phoenix, however. Leah has proven to be quite the social little minx, kicking around town and meeting all the Altaire that Jesse doesn't have a clue about. It's from Leah that Jesse got Pyper's number. He gives a shrug. "In my opinion, I didn't kill her. I have her everlasting life. That's not the same as death."

<Pyper> Everlasting life. To be perserved like an anatomy subject; cut into, maimed for the sake of what? Pyper's hand covered her head for a second, willing her focus to be on this man. His name? .. Jesse, Leah had said several times. "What do you define as death? Doctors estimate times of death by the vital signs ceasing to beep beep beep out of the machines. If you were hooked up to a machine, what would your vitals look like?" He interested her. In appearance alone, but his mind was fashioned differently. Pyper wanted to probe it, use a scalpel to see if it had morphed - mutated - when he died.

<Jesse Fforde> This girl is interesting. She's into the deeper questions, Jesse realises. It's better to be here face to face with her rather than to converse by text. At least here, he can hear the tone of her voice; can see the curious inquisition in her eyes. Her questions are not accusatory. They are curiosities. His lips curl into an indulgent smile as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Death is when a body ceases to be animated. When the soul disappears. We walk, we talk, we breath, we think. We have emotions. Therefore, we are alive. Have you not heard the quote 'I think, therefore I am?'" he asked, tapping a finger against his temple.

<Pyper> Pyper opened her mouth for the first time but the only thing that came out was stale air. It closed again. Her humming had improved. She could almost make out the word 'hi' without it hurting her throat too much. The wound must be close to being erased from her physical form. It would be strange to be able to speak again. Would she sound the same? "My head is filled with too many things, and I don't think I'd enjoy being any part of it. You are covered in drawings. I see them. You are like a painting. What are they?" Although no acknowledgement dissected his opinion on death, the statement was stored into an overflowing bin to be later evaluated and compared to her own understanding.

<Jesse Fforde> It is weird to have a voice directly in his head, and speaking like he is speaking to no one. Of course he is curious about why she does not talk; hears that hum but no words come out. But he will not ask. He used to hate that ******* question. And used to hate when people treated him like a dumb **** because of his lack of speech. It doesn't occur to him to question her disability, but instead goes with the flow. He's actually enjoying the interrogation. He stretches his arms out in front of him, gazing at the 'pictures', as she called them. "You want to know what each individual tattoo is? Or is the question a little less literal?" he asks.

<Pyper> More air is crushed from her abdomen as her hands climbed the wall behind her for support. They looked worse than her arms. Chunks missing but they lessen as the time passed. Hours, the ill-minded woman could sit and watch her wound heal. It only sent her into an irritated state of distress if her experiments on them weren't completed. There was none for her hands. The head wound needed to heal first. Steps to him were awkward, a hybrid between a shuffle and a stalk. That hair of unmanageable curly ashen hair stuck out to the closest arm - the right - and then swept to the left. "Yes, each one. They are pretty. They will stay forever?"

<Jesse Fforde> Wounds on vampires aren't something to worry oneself over, and Jesse isn't the kind to start cooing over another just because they are hurt. Especially with vampires. He's likely to tell them to suck it up and be a man. Even if they are, as in Pyper's case, female. He watches as she stands, her answer coming to him only once she is standing in front of him. He, too, blows air from his lungs. "They will stay forever," he says. And then: "To tell you about each and every one of them would take some time, and would require me to strip down to my underwear," he says. "If you'd really like to know, I'd probably prefer we do the show and tell where we're not likely to be molested by zombies," he says.

<Pyper> Had the tattoos grown and overrun his body? Half of her wanted to suggest culling them, she still had the kitchen knife she stabbed the secretary with. The handle stuck out of the left pocket. Blood came in a faint stream down her leg. The very tip scratched along her thigh several times over and conjured blood with it. "I was lied to about them. They are not as slow as the television box told me they were." A twitch at her neck, it shifted the naturally lethargic expression to the side. An uncontrolled movement. Immediately after her accusation towards cinema exaggeration, another question came out without the appropriate waiting time for his answer. Pyper tried to purge as much thoughts from the overcrowded conscious. "Is it normal for people to strip into their underwear for other people?"

[Pyper]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jesse Fforde> Although Jesse could very well have questioned this girl's sanity - was she this way before she was turned, or had the turning done something to her? - he instead thinks her questions and her attitude to be endearing. Not something to be laughed at, but something to be given all due attention. Not something to be looked down on - perhaps even something to be envied. Before he could comment, she asks another question. At this, he smirks. "Not normal, no. But I am proud of my tattoos. I've done it before, for someone who asked," he says, remembering AJ and her surprised and bruised sensibility. Something she seems to have completely lost, these days. "As for the zombies - as you get faster, they'll get slower. You'll see," he says. He assumes she must be quite new to all this.

<Pyper> When Pyper stepped back, it's enough to peer at his face. His ear catch her attention, dark irised smothered pupils narrowing with an intense focus. Without any thought to personal space, a small hand extended from its battered arm and a single digit - the pinky because it is her favorite - flicked his piercing. A voice, booming. His name had been Ralph. It could have been fake. Pyper thought it was fake. He said to her, 'ABSOLUTELY no touching other patients, Ramona. You didn't like the Alone Room. You'll go back there if your hand doesn't come down.' The schizophrenic's hand jerked back. "If I get a tattoo, will it heal like my wounds?"

<Jesse Fforde> All curiosity in his pretty pictures seems to have disappeared. Pyper reaches a slender hand up and Jesse almost expects that she's going to tug at his ear. A mere flick, however, before her hand is snatched away as if burnt. He did not move to touch her - shows no irritation whatsoever that she should breach his personal space. He doesn't know what it is about this girl, but she's like a wide-eyed childe - one of the smart ones that don't throw tantrums, and thus the only kind of child he could tolerate. The kind with hope and avid interest in everything around them, fascination even, rather than a general disdain for the world, which usually comes as the years pass (though Jesse's disdain grew from the age of eight). Jesse nods. "Eventually. It differs, between vampires, but for most - eventually," he says. "I've tried it myself. Mine don't seem to fade. But others have returned to me to get theirs redone," he says.

<Pyper> Turning her arms, working the pivoting joints, Pyper studies the unmarked skin. It was boring. Didn't tattoos tell stories, like pictures in an actual book? The assumption that they did made her considering marking herself with the deep set ink. While she's thinking over this epiphany, her tongue suctions to the roof of her mouth and is forced away, echoing a click click click in the nearly empty building. "Paige painted pictures on me but they didn't stay either. Are you an artist? I'd like a picture." Ideas of what that would exactly be haven't been considered but impulsive behavior marked the blonde since being delivered the ability to walk.

Kitchen knives found their homes in the toilets of the house. Countless objects in the closet that was her home. Markings, drawings, words scrawled on the inner walls. A five by five room illustrated the extent of her condition and exaggerated her parents need to isolate her.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse grins. "Yes, I am an artist. I can draw you a picture," he says, canting his head to the side. "Any picture in particular that you would like?" he asks. He assumed she's talking about wanting a tattoo - it seems a legitimate leap. Sure, he dabbles in actual art, too - he has canvases all over the place, pictures in charcoal and watercolours, mainly, but a few in oils and acrylic. He dabbles in all sorts. Art is his main hobby; it's his living, his job. The thing that he enjoys doing above all other menial activities. Some people write. He tried to keep a journal for a while - it didn't last. He prefers to draw his emotions, rather than write them down.

<Pyper> Click click click. What picture? Something that reminded her of herself. What did that? Click click click. A finger skimmed over the side of her jawline, then disappeared with the others in the tangles of hair. They never came out, no matter how many hours she spent with a brush. The record was three, and twenty minutes or so, back to the same state pre-brush session. "Ivy.." she started to say, pausing. Ivy grew on the side of the brick buildings. It infested the crevices and broke apart the bricks. Every one of those structures decayed rapidly thanks to the viral vines.

"The sun.." Something she missed, something she subjected herself to the first night after Phoenix stole her mortality. "Both. The vines winding around and blocking the rays of light. Darkness. In this new life. It's breaking free but it can't. And the ivy grows. And grows."


<Jesse Fforde> Ivy, yes. Jesse's artistic glands start watering at the mention of Ivy. He himself keeps a bunch of plants - another thing that he likes doing. He has a bit of a green thumb, and puts it to good use. His hut at the Eyrie is overun with Ivy, because if grows and grows and grows. But he lets it grow, because he likes it so much. "Ivy, blocking out sunlight," he nods. "I can manage that. Call it a commission, on your behalf. If you want this tattooed - where would you like it? Your arm?" he asks. It matters, only because it will affect the shape of the picture he finally concocts. "I've got a lot of Ivy at home - I can draw inspiration from it," he says. The sunlight, he knows, will be more of a challenge. It's been so long. Surely youtube has a clip of a sunrise he can watche, however.

<Pyper> Placement. At this, Pyper's eyes darted to several places on her body. Where would a person like a drawing forever etched into their skin? Somewhere people can see; unlike Jesse, the woman was tired of having to strip down in front of people, regardless of it being for an entirely different reason than before. "The sun.. here," as a digit digs into the center of her chest. The sternum is relatively flat, asking to be worked into. If anything, the bones might caused discomfort under the needle but Pyper's unaware of the process of obtaining her art. In any case, it couldn't have been worse than Paige's hydrochloric acid burns. "The ivy.. around it.. tumbling.. descending. Down along the sides of me. Ascending, climbing.. over my shoulders. Where will they end? Behind me? Along the tops of my shoulders, down the arms in a twirling twist that stops where?" She's confused herself on where the tattoo should actually end.


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse nods, bright eyes grazing every inch of the skin that Pyper points out. He has a bit of an obsession with skin; he likes it flawless, which isn't hard to find in vampires. He can imagine it - he can imagine how bright he will make it, but at the same time, that Ivy will be twisted in with shadows. Shadows cast by the strangled sun, in the middle of her chest. "I like your style. We can do it bit by bit. You can decide when you think it's done, where it should end," he says. He nods to the wounds peppering her slender arms. "You should try not to be mauled for a couple of nights. Then come visit me at Larch Court - I have a chair and ink set up there. I can draw a few things, see if they meet your standards," he says, arching a brow in curious inquisition.

<Pyper> Another reason - aside from the head wound - to stay away from the hunters in the sewers. It'd nearly kill Pyper as surely as they would to not venture down in the tunnels with the intentions of pilfering a head from a deceased body to give to Paige, or Phoenix. How much did she want this tattoo? The horizontal line of her mouth slackens at the ends, eyes coming up from inspecting her arms to Jesse's. "No marks," she agreed, tongue pushing at the backs of her teeth. Her experiments could be put on hold, as reluctant as she was. "Where is .. Larch Court?" Even the winding trailways beneath the city let her meander for days without knowing her location. This city was a maze.

<Jesse Fforde> "It's in Swansdale," he says, also giving the number and the street. "We're at number 12," he adds. And then: "If you shoot me a text - or a head message - when you're ready, and if you trust me enough, I can summon you there. If you don't want to get lost," he says. Given that Pyper is a childe of Phoenix's, and given that Jesse is pretty sure Phoenix loathes him and would spread vitriol where she could, he knows and accepts that there's a chance Pyper won't trust him. But he gives her the option anyway. "It's a home base, I suppose, for me and mine," he explains.

<Pyper> Swansdale, she'd seen signs for it. Crossed into its borders unaware of what sector of this populous it was. The street and the number would be harder to remember. Already things were slipping, skull crammed with other information swarming in like an aggressive hive. "Summon? I've never been summoned. Experiences. My option is summoning" Like a god ripped through its reality, and thrown onto some mortal plane. Where would she be between wherever she was, and this building? Suspended in a raw thought construction? Reduced to minute particles that see speeds greater than imaginable? Or will it simply be an instance of 'magic'? Pyper's beliefs were contradictory against a vampiric life and it's uncognizant benefits, and consequences.

<Jesse Fforde> "Summoning it is, then," Jesse says with a broad grin. It is a nifty trick that he rather enjoys making use of - especially when he happens to know that someone he cares for is outside when the sun's about to rise. He likes to be able to bring them inside, regardless of what their reasons might have been to be out to begin with. No reason is worth the sunburn that might result. "Three nights from now, around this time, I will summon you to Larch Court. Yes?" he asks, confirming their plans one more time for posterity's sake.

<Pyper> Three dactyls stretched from a naturally curled, idle position. A physical memory of the days to better serve her overall retention. "Three days, around this time. I will bring pictures of my own." A pulsating tick thumped mercilessly behind her bottom right eyelid, making her close both. Just to rest. "I think I'm hungry," she stated, five more steps were taken back. The exit was where? Now the skin peeled back, pupils expanding to take in more light. Very little got through the cracks. "I will excuse myself." Phrases taught by the doctors, and nurses.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse just watches, not really amused, but curious. He nods. She's allowed to excuse herself. It's a free world. She says she will bring her own pictures, and that's fine by him. He's done plenty of tattoos for people before, when the design was not his own. Of course, he prefers it when it's his own. But at the same time, it's not his skin. It's their skin. Whatever they want is what he will provide. He gives a light salute as Pyper disappears; he glances around. Maybe he'll have a bit of fun and collect some ears before he leaves.

<Pyper> People shook hands after they met, Pyper had done it with enough people in the shelters. Mechanical, automatic reflexes, they all had that air of formality in the kitchens. The scent of division made her sick some nights. She's noticed in Harper Rock, no one had offered their hand in introduction. Leah hugged. Is that the way Jesse was? Unsure of herself, veering off to where she expected the exit to be, Pyper's hand rose and pat the front of the shoulder closest to herself. "Bye." Once outside, the blonde headed north and dropped down through the sewers, fevered with an excitement for a game of cat-and-mouse.