<Mora>
He babbled within her grasp, actually it was more squirming. She canted her head to the side and watched him curiously. Now he seemed to think she wanted his liver. She didn’t want any of his body parts. She simply wanted his blood, she told him as such as she shook her head from side to side. She hated having to repeat herself - but she did so anyhow.
“I want your blood, not your ******* kidneys, or liver.”
This time that kind, gentle tone was replaced with anger. Who knew that such a small woman could hold so much strength and anger within those small bones of hers. Immortality did that to you, bestowed strength of an immortal. She laughed and opened her mouth slightly as he wriggled again this time about asking for needles for a blood transfusion. She shook her head and ignored him her fangs dropped against his neck as she began to drink the blood.
She was so hungry. She drank and drank and drank until her belly was all sloshy and full his body went limp within her grasp, as she watched him fall to the ground, when she let him go. She watched him briefly. Mora was pained then in that moment, her kindness had returned. She knelt beside the limp man and began to shake him slightly.
“Hey Jameson, wake up.. I’m sorry… I didn’t want to do that.. I was just so hungry…”
She was having a really hard time controlling her temper, and hunger these past few days. It was getting out of hand, would this be another body to add to the count of those she had to dispose of already, this week alone?
Possibly.
<Jameson Dade>
****!
****!!!!
THIS WAS NOT HOW A BLOOD TRANSFUSION WORKED. He was pretty damn sure of that. First of all, the woman was strong. Like insanely strong. He’d never felt anyone pin him against a wall with that kind of force before. Something was really ******* wrong! And she had fangs. At least that’s what it looked like. Was she one of those werewolf things, he was always reading about in the few young adult novels he bothered to partake in? He didn’t rightly know, but he was pretty sure that if she started to sprout fur, he was basically done for. As it was, he was pretty damn scared, and he wasn’t exactly the easiest person in the world to frighten. Oh. He lived his life with all kinds of fear, but he knew the things to be afraid of. Going to jail. Getting caught by cops. Overdosing.
Tiny blondes with superhuman strength did not fit into his world.
Then she was tearing into his neck and it hurt. It hurt a lot, but he was somewhat detached from the situation, even as he tried to shove her away. His mind was somewhere else, and his body reacted ineffectively against the steel behind those pretty features that were Mora. He was fleeing and then he was just sort of gone. But it wasn’t like when people said they hovered over their bodies and could look down. See themselves in whatever position they had been in. No, it was like an instant and clinging darkness that didn’t want to spit him out of its clutches.
He came to occasionally, and got little glimpses of what was happening. She’d stopped eating him, but her lips were still bloody.
Then he was out again.
She was moving over him, and he wanted to reach out and see if she was real or if it was a nightmare.
And gone again.
“I don’t want to die.” Hard, deep, hoarse words.
<Mora>
He didn’t want to die. He spoke in hoarse, broken voice. Mora’s heart ached. She didn’t mean to hurt him, she was just hungry. A hunger she was having a hard time fulfilling. She didn’t know how to handle it, so when the hunger overwhelmed her - she would feed, and go a little bit crazy each time. Damn Zara, making Mora this way. The usually so kind and gentle Telepath was now pretty much going crazy. She wiped at her lips, with the back of her hands getting rid of the blood and looked down at her own pale flesh that was her wrist. She considered feeding him her blood. She thought about it - it was her own selfish desire for blood that had put Jameson in this situation, had put him barely alive on the concrete floor of this alleyway.
Without a second thought she was already lifting up her wrist to her mouth and biting into the pale flesh. With a soft crunch. She pushed her bloody wrist to his mouth and pried it open. She then allowed the blood, that was seeping from the wound on the wrist to slowly trickle down into his mouth, staining his teeth, his pearly white teeth with dark, black liquid that was the Telepaths blood.
“Drink.”
She demanded, even though he was in and out of consciousness, she knew he could hear her. Because she had said it aloud and telepathically. He would respond, he wasn’t dead. Yet. She just didn’t have the heart to dispose of yet another body. She would save this one, just this once.
Maybe he would stick around, unlike the others - who knew with Mora. Those she sired, never stuck around.
<Jameson Dade>
There were words like warfare in his brain. Screaming. Shouting. There was pain and here was this haze that settled over everything until clarity nothing but a thin thread to which he could only grasp an never truly cling . He didn’t know what he was meant to be drinking, but his body went through the motions, like he was sucking on a straw and he had this vague thought at the back of his mind that he he had probably been drugged, and was suckin’ some guy off at a party. Except it didn’t taste like that. It tasted a lot like a penny (he had used to suck on them when he was younger because he had this odd oral fixation.
Thoughts collided.
He drank until he was choking, until his stomach felt full. He drank until everything was suddenly still. Until there was nothing left, and he was sure he had managed to find the rare door to oblivion that people talked about. Or maybe it was nirvana? They could have been one and the same, couldn’t they? Except there was no such thing as self-aware nothingness. He thought, and so on some level he existed. He was.
And that was how he came back to himself. With a suddenness that was as powerful as the first rasped breath of a baby, he was awake and alive, and gasping at air. He coughed and redness spewed in speckled rust from his lungs, over his lips. He sat up, moving like a mouse trap, snapping into place. He was totally there in that moment with Mora leaning over him, and her wrist healing. What had happened? And why was everything this great pressure around him? It was like he had been living in a bubble and now it was popped, and everything was flooding in all at once.
Pupils became needle point thin and he stared into the distance for a moment.
Then he was up on his feet. “I’m hungry.” He declared.
And then he darted off to find a cheeseburger.
Wait.
Was he forgetting something?
Nah, probably not.
<Mora>
She waited on baited breathe for him, she needed to know if he would come back - not everyone came back. She had seen the change being rejected before - how they would cough the blood up from their lungs. Gasp for air, then fall still - dead. The eternal death, as she often called it. As she stared at his lifeless body she switched her position, sitting cross legged on the damp, cement of the pavement. She waited until finally like a fish to a hook Jameson began to drink the blood. Absorbing Mora’s life into his own so he could be reborn, reborn into the monster she is now.
Vampire.
He let go of her wrist then, batting at it, like it was a swing ball. Then, a moment later he was up in a sitting position, staring wide eyed around him like he was truly seeing the world for what it was for the first time. She tried to grab his attention by clearing her throat but he was already standing, he was quick.
He was hungry, he had told her this. She began to get up but by the side she was standing on her own two feet he was gone - disappearing so quick it took Mora by surprise. She didn’t expect him to be like this, so quick on his tail Mora began to chase after him. She didn’t want this one to die, she actually didn’t want this one to turn out the way some of the others did - dead not a night into their turnings.
“Jameson!” She called after him hot on his heels. She kicked her celerity into effect and grabbed the scruff of his neck. Halting him. She found herself breathing heavily - old human habit, no matter how long you’d been dead it would never go away. Breathing was as easy as talking.
“Enough. I have a lot to tell you.” She said. Letting him go, but her eyes never left his face. “Are you hungry?” She asked him.
