Of knowledge and the appearance of such. A cautionary tale.

[Bastion Courbon]

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


<Bastion Courbon Stepping from the fire escape onto the rooftop an unremarkable man in his late twenties with a full head of unruly dark hair casts the remains of a smoke down to the street below. He has always enjoyed the open air, somehow equating it to a more primal time in man's history even as his boots thud on the concrete beneath them. It's easy for him to ignore the irony of getting back to nature in the commercial district of a city. He's been ignoring reality this way his whole life. As he steps to the edge of the far side of the building and looks out over the city he mumbles to himself, "People are **** nowadays..."


<Jesse Fforde> People are **** nowadays. Jesse knows it. Though it's not just nowadays. It's been always. There are a few rare gems that he believes to be... well, gems. One in particular. And he knows he's far from perfect. He knows it. And he wants to test it. He is fickle, obviously, when it comes to his own vows. The vow not to sire on a whim. But he doesn't have to keep it, does he? He just needs to test it. He stalks the streets, looking for the perfect candidate. He notices the shadow on the rooftop, mainly because the dropped cigarette falls with a tiny thud and hiss behind him. Someone who's given up on life already, maybe? Jesse wastes no time stealthily climbing the fire escape. He crawls up and over the side of the roof, eyes narrowed curiously.


<Bastion Courbon Unaware of the voyeur behind him, Bastion pulls out a pack of all natural tobacco cigarettes and a box of wooden matches. Turning to shield the newly kindled flame from the wind he ignites the sulfur tip and puffs at the butt until it's lit evenly. The match joins the last cigarette twirling down to the street below. "I mean, look at this... we can only create when we destroy," he says to no one. "All our modern mumbo jumbo and we're no closer to knowing anything that matters." Pseudo-intellectualism is one of Bastion's strong points. Most would call it ********. His former friends all did... "**** people".


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse smirks as he uncoils and straightens his shoulders. The mumbler won't see it, but his bright eyes gleam with an unsatisfied fire. Reaching into his pocket, Jesse retrieves a packet of menthols. The menthols help with this throat; the constant, dry, insatiably thirsty itch of it. Still making no sound, he steps up beside the human. "Got a light?" he asks. Jesse doesn't want a smoke. Not really. He wants to rip this guys throat out, take all his blood, and feed it back to him. It sends a shiver of delight down Jesse's spine, just thinking about it. But he can have patience. The muttering is reminiscent of Jesse's own thoughts, sometimes. He arches a brow.


<Bastion Courbon Bastion takes a sudden step away from what for an instant seems to be a disembodied voice. "Christ dude, you scared the **** out of me..." He laughs nervously bending over and putting his hands atop his thighs for a second to steady himself. Heart racing he withdraws the box of strike anywhere wooden matches and offers them at arms length. His hand falters as he feels a sense of foreboding settle over him. Something deep within him tells him to get away. The hand holding the matches out trembles slightly. "Yeah man, sure... what you doing up here anyway?"


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse can hear the heart begin to race. He can see the tremble in the man's hands; there's a sense of satisfaction, knowing he can bring a grown man to trembling just by being present. Someone had once told Jesse she'd not opened up to him because he scared her. It had been a compliment. This is the person Jesse wants to be, again. He wants to be that man that scares people. He takes the matches and lights his own cigarette, before offering the pack back. "Contemplating the meaning of chaos, maybe," he says, his voice gruff and barely there. "Entropy. Chaos is inevitable. Man-made order is a farce," he says, testing the waters.


<Bastion Courbon Nodding slowly Bastion casts a surreptitious glance over the side of the building, Jumping to get away from this dude doesn't sound like a bad idea even if he'd be made into road pizza for trying. In his head there are thoughts or horror movies and graphic novels dancing. This guy could have stepped from any chapter or scene and into the real world. "Yeah..." His thoughts are echoed on the man's words. "You an anarchist?" Whatever he is, Bastion figures that this guy wouldn't blink twice while throwing him off the roof. He takes a couple steps back and sits down trying to look relaxed.


<Jesse Fforde> There's a slight cant to Jesse's had as he gives this human the once over. He had been searching for a reaction to his words. An instinct, maybe, as to the character of this other man. Is he worthy? What if this does stick. What then? Jesse's breath is released in a swirling of smoke; he lets the human have his distance. For now. "Maybe. Maybe I belong to a cult of anarchists and I'm looking to recruit new members. Random guys on rooftops mumbling about the fuckery of humanity are perfect candidates..." he says, slowly, before taking another drag of his cigarette, his other hand pushed into his pocket. For all the world, looking relaxed and harmless. Contradictory to the aura billowing from him.


<Bastion Courbon Head still bobbing in agreement he listens to the words. "I think we're a virus man... only viruses change everything around them instead of adapting to the environment." His brow furrows a moment before he continues. "You know, before all the cities and politicians and all that there used to be magic." He takes a drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs and holds it there a moment as he contemplates. "There used to be other things too."


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse eyes the guy curiously. Far be it for Jesse to contradict; he's quite certain that there's no used to involved where magic is concerned. But he doesn't let that slip, just yet. He's far too curious, and wants this human to continue. Jesse wants to get the lay of the land before possibly inducting this male into immortality--and Fforde--and turning his world upside down. "Yeah?" he says, encouraging the other to continue as he flicks ash from the tip of his cigarette.


<Bastion Courbon Sensing his chance to sound knowledgable Bastion nods. "Werewolves and vampires have been proven. Zombies in Haiti from voodoo magic is proven, and ghosts have been sighted way too often to be just ********." He says with a new-found sense of authority. "Government covers it up cause they don't want us to panic. You know why?" He seems to have forgotten the aura of danger around the guy, he's enthralled in his own thoughts and just happy someone, even if the dude might be Son of Sam come back to life, is listening to him.


<Jesse Fforde> Well that seals the deal, then. Pressure is lifted from Jesse's shoulders. This guy knows too much. He knows about vampires and werewolves and he knows it's being covered up. Unless he's just pulling **** out of his ***. Still, though. Still. He needs to either die or be turned. The decision is made. Jesse drops the cigarette and violently grinds it out beneath the heel of his boot. He doesn't move forward just yet. He glances up, eyes sharp with their usual gleaming fire. His skin pallid, the ink etched into it bright against the paleness. "Why's that?"


<Bastion Courbon Still looking out at the city and blissfully ignorant of impending... issues... Bastion does what he's always done. He fucks himself over. "Cause that's who the politicians answer to." There are much wilder conspiracy theories out there, but he vocalizes his own take. "Not werewolves I mean. Vampires. Most politicians are like Renfield dude."


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse laughs. It's a low, seething sound. Maybe this guy does know a lot. Maybe he'll be useful, in the long run, to both Fforde and Andras. "I don't know about Werewolves...." Jesse says. That's the only hurdle, really. The only thing that has Jesse thinking this guy might be talking out of his ***. Jesse has seen neither hide nor hair of werewolves. Hasn't even heard of them. But maybe this human has witnessed a shifting - a vampire, turning into a wolf. That could lead one's imagination in all kinds of directions. It's now, that Jesse closes the distance. Now, that he ends up in front of the human with one hand fisted in his hair to wrench his head to the side and the other digging nails into his shoulder. It is a common theory, yes, that the recently elected mayor is controlled by a vampire. No one knows who, though. Jesse can ask this guy more later. For now - for now, he lunges for the neck, thirsting for the hot taste of blood.


<Bastion Courbon "Hyack" is the sound that replaced whatever he had been about to say. Probably something to do with a website that showed werewolves were real, maybe something else. The world may never know. Instead a wrenching pain as his head is pulled back and in ignoble grunt are the order of the day. His arms flail as he tries to push his assailant away, clawing at his shoulder and then grabbing a fistful of hair trying to pull the head back from his throat.


<Jesse Fforde> Like a Boa Constrictor, Jesse's grip only tightens the more his prey struggles. He'll do it right, this time. Something strange had happened with Cosette. It had been just a bite. Just a single measly bite and the change had started. With this one, Jesse will do as he's always done, and see what happens. Drain them until they are near death. Feed it back to them. The rooftop is the perfect place, really. Especially this one, which is higher than its contemporaries. There are no witnesses. Still. Jesse drags his prey away from the edge, even while drinking. The embrace intimate, almost, if it weren't for the low growl in Jesse's throat--that of an animal, enjoying its meal far too much.


<Bastion Courbon Goes into a panic then, thumping at the man with his fists, he's far from a trained warrior though. Somewhere in the back of his panic stricken mind the word ~vampire~ resonates. It even makes it to his lips as he tries to scream. It's hampered by the bubbling of blood that erupts in a frothy spray though. His struggles weaken with both blood loss and confusion and something else... maybe it's desire? He's never felt right in his life, he's wanted to be more than human and believed in the supernatural all his life. Perhaps the lack of struggle isn't merely acceptance, but total surrender.

[Jesse Fforde]

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

<Jesse Fforde> If Jesse had a heart, it would be racing. This is desire, for him. A whole other realm of desire that has nothing to do with sex or lust. It's all about the blood. The taking of the blood, now tinged with adrenaline and fear. The thick hot gush of it as it soothes the constant thirst at the back of his throat. And the anticipation of what comes next. Yes. As soon as Jesse feels the body in his grip weaken, he lowers it to the hard cement of the rooftop. They are shielded by the roof's thick brick barriers. Those barriers that are supposed to keep people from falling. The wound in the human's neck starts to heal almost as soon as Jesse pulls away--a slow stitching that starts from the inside. Jesse is on his knees at the human's side. Blood stains his chin, and he licks the remnants away from his lips. Life thrives through his limbs and he is invigorated by the fresh heat; a heat that he is soon about to lose. With his own sharpened canines, he rips in to the flesh of his own wrist and holds the copiously bleeding wound over the human's lips. "Drink," he says, voice now not so gruff, but thick with his recent meal. This guy claims to know about vampires; he should, then, know exactly what drink means, and what it will do.


<Bastion Courbon There is no hesitation, almost as though he was on autopilot Bastion wraps his lips around the wound and sucks at it with all his might like a man dying of thirst. His hands latch on weakly to the proffered wrist more to keep himself from falling over than to try and restrain Jesse's arm. As he suckles at the wound, the taste of blood sickening, coppery and somehow... right... he murmers something about names. Look at me mama... top of the world, he thinks. Sucking blood from a real life vampire's wrist without ever getting their name. The laugh comes out as a series of coughs as he spews blood from his nose as if it were milk he swallowed wrong...


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse tries not to swoon. This is the best part. He is a man on a high - and this is his drug. As soon as the human's lips wrap around the wound, as soon as he starts to forcefully pull the blood from Jesse's system, Jesse feels as if he has been injected with bliss. He never makes them stop. He lets them take as much as they want, for as long as they want; to feel that bond begin to form as his blood enters their system, as it begins to change them, for better or for worse. There's nothing quite like it. Nothing that he could compare it to. He doubts even fathers feel this way when they see their newborn babies. They see their babies at a remove. This... this is the thick of it. There isn't even a smart-*** comment when the guy spits the blood, the mess splattering over his own face. Jesse just watches, lips parted, revelling in the sensation.


<Bastion Courbon Eventually he stops, he's heard that drinking more than a pint of blood can make you sick, but it's not sick that he feels. It's like a burning... a burning from within. He looks up toward Jesse's face, his expression going from lust to confusion and then to the start of pain... His hand taps against his chest where the pain is beginning.


<Jesse Fforde> "Not here," Jesse grunts. No rest for the wicked, and all that. The wound on his own wrist is ignored; it continues to leak blood for a few minutes, but slowly heals. Just like the wound on this human's neck. Jesse snorts, almost laughs as he reaches for the guy's arm and tries to haul him onto his feet. This is normal, Jesse tells himself. Some of them take to this **** like a fish in water, and some of them writhe in pain for a while, as their body dies. This doesn't mean anything. This might not be another Cosette. Only time will tell. "How rude of me," he says. "Ripping your life away without introducing myself. Jesse Fforde," he says. He's already trying to half half haul, half help this guy toward the fire escape. To get him down to the ground before dragging his *** home.


<Bastion Courbon Struggling to help, still in automaton mode he mumbles "B-Bastion Cou-Courbon" His mind is a haze, his body starting to ache, but the stories say he shouldn't hurt, he should be a vampire. Some of them said three nights too though he remembers. Maybe that's it. He suddenly wrenches over almost as though he is about the throw up though he doesn't. "Hurts..." He manages to get out as he straightens, still being dragged along.


<Jesse Fforde> "Pleasure to meet you, Bastion," Jesse says, grunting again as he pulls the lank of a human up properly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and leading him to the fire exit. "I know it hurts, man. It won't last long," he says. Before he pauses, and adds. "I hope. Just... keep it together until we get to the ground, yeah?" he says. "Can you manage the fire escape?" Jesse asks. If he rushes, if he gives this guy other **** to think about, maybe the hate and loathing won't come until later. For now, Jesse is on a mission.


<Bastion Courbon Looking down seems to cause a wave of vertigo to rise up but other than being flung from the roof Bastion's addled mind can't think of any alternative. "Y-yeah I think I can." He groans as he moves to try. Methodically he reminds himself hand foot, foot, hand as he begins to descend. The pain is growing more intense, the ground looks a mile away and his head is swimming. Still he keeps going. "Hand, foot, foot, hand... don't fall" Becomes like a mantra in his head.


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse follows, slowly. He hangs from the ladder as he continues arching his head over his shoulder to watch the progress of this new... thing. This new progeny. This new addition to the brood. This Bastion. It's a strong name. Jesse hopes that this strong name is attached to a stronger person. A person who will make it through this. When they get near the bottom, Jesse leaps over the edge so that he is waiting down below, to pull the ladder the rest of the way. To help, as much as he can. He doesn't particularly want this new fledge to become alley-kill before he's even had a chance to discover this new life he's been given.


<Bastion Courbon Making it down the ladders is a Herculean feat in and of itself. Once on solid ground he sways slightly, catches himself grits his teeth a moment trying to clear his head and failing that opens his eyes and looks at Jesse. "Am I going to be immortal? More than human?" His voice is laced with pain, but he manages to keep it from cracking, manages so far not to cry out.


<Jesse Fforde> "We'll see," Jesse says. He takes hold of Bastion's arm again, pulling it over his shoulder and urging the guy to keep doing what he was doing. Just one foot after the other, until they get into familiar territory. "Most likely. I might be having some trouble, see," Jesse says, peering both ways when they reach the edge of the alleyway. This isn't a conversation that should be overheard. "You're my test. Make it through and I'll give you a gold star," he says with a breathy laugh.


<Bastion Courbon Covered in blood, feeling like he just got hit by a bus and then beaten up by the passengers he continues on. He doesn't say anymore. Doesn't trust himself to. He knows the vampires are secrets and he can't let his sire/maker/dracula get caught or he will end up a Renfield/corpse/zombie instead of an immortal. Gold star he thinks to himself. Gold star. One foot, next foot. It's not long before he's lost track of time, what foot is what and where he even is. Autopilot... blacked out, call it what it is... the world shrinks before his eyes, tunnel vision setting it and the next thing he knows...


<Jesse Fforde> The trip home is easier than Jesse could be given credit for. He only had to laugh and mumble too much to drink to one person. The rest avoided them, crossed the street to get out of their way, though probably mainly due to the fact that they like to avoid Jesse, period. Swansdale and Larch Court are not too far away, in the grand scheme of things. Maybe ten blocks - Jesse does lurch around one specific part of the city, most of the time. He rarely uses the front door, but here he is - a nest of vampires in the middle of a housing estate. It's kind of quaint. He awkwardly pulls the key from his pocket and pushes the door open. "Welcome home!" he says, the door accidentally slamming shut behind him. The place, from the outset, looks kind of like a really clean frat house.


<Bastion Courbon He manages to raise his head enough to get a very fuzzy look around. The motion making his stomach lurch and roil dangerously while at the same time causing small bombs to go off behind his eyes. His arm being around Jesse's shoulder likely saves him from knocking all his teeth out on the floor as he goes limp. His last thought as the pain washes his consciousness away is. "Gold star... didn't scream".


<Jesse Fforde> "Aaah. ****," Jesse mumbles as the body goes limp in his arms. This is it. This is the point at which he assumes, beyond reasonable doubt, that there's something wrong with him. Him. Jesse Fforde. There's nothing wrong with Cosette - he can at least go and tell her that. Bring her here, maybe, and show her what it was she had looked like. Jesse sighs as he heaves, drags this limp body through to the back room where he arranges the unmoving limbs on one of the bunk beds. He stands there for a minute or two - yeah. There it is. That bond that's not as strong as it should be. Flickering, flimsy, weak. **** everything, he thinks. He pulls his jacket from his shoulders, readying himself. Preparing for the long week ahead.

[Bastion Courbon]

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

<Jesse Fforde> The last night had passed without incident. The new night is upon them and Jesse remains in Larch Court, lingering nearby the bed within which he had left Bastion. He lounged in one of the armchairs, which he had pulled close; his feet are bare, and he wears only trackpants and a tank. This will be another week of rarely leaving the house, though he is a little more relaxed, this time. Cosette had pulled through. There's no reason why Bastion shouldn't, too. It's no secret that there are quite a few people who aren't happy with this new addition to the family, as Jesse had found out via the numerous messages he'd sent out to both family forums. But he refuses to feel guilt, and is certain that Bastion himself won't be treated with disregard due to Jesse's rash decisions. There he sits, with one ankle propped up on the other knee, leaning back with the eerie glow of the phone's screen dancing over his features; his brows furrowed as he fields comments with brash humour.

<Bastion Courbon Groaning, Bastion cracks open his eyes. His head is swimming but at least there is no point at the moment. The nasty heavy feeling in his head and stomach tells him that his isn't better though. Feels like the flu on steroids. "Where am I?" He asks Jesse as his pushes himself into a seated position. He doesn't even vaguely recognize the place from last night.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse's head snaps up and he immediately puts the phone away. He leans forward in his chair, gesturing to the space around him. "Larch Court number 12. My small kingdom," he says. "How are you feeling?" Jesse asks. He waits for the incredulity. The anger. The... questions. There have got to be a few.

<Bastion Courbon It takes a moment for everything to process in his head. He had been on a rooftop and then this guy was there and they were smoking and then... then... Woah. "Am I a vampire yet?" There doesn't seem to be anger to his voice, more like an impatience mixed with a sense of wonderment. "My head hurts.. " He waves his hand in front of his face and frowns. "Shouldn't it be paler?"

* Renee having spend most of the evening talking with others had finally found herself back home. most of the others that also called this place home seemed to either be out or sleeping by this time. She could hear voices coming from one of the rooms. As she was still very much awake after the informative night she had she made her way towards them only to find Jesse and who she assumed to be the newest member of the mix.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse grins, a broad playful kind of grin. This guy seems up to date with all the literature. Whether his belief in vampires an werewolves is due to some idiotic conspiracy theory insane kind of underground cult, or whether he actually has solid evidence, this kind of reaction is far preferable to ... well, anger. Jesse thinks he detects a hint of... what is that? Happiness? Maybe they all won't judge him too harshly, after all. Maybe he can tell them all just to let him trust his instinct. Though, that hadn't turned out so well in the past. "Yes and no. As I said last night, I'm discovering with you that I seem to have a problem. It happened with my last one. Now it's happening again. This is going to take a while. A week, maybe. The bond isn't fully... there, yet. I need to keep feeding you my blood until it takes," Jesse says, slowly. At least, that's how he assumed it works. "It might get worse before it gets better. You haven't earned that gold star just yet," he says, his glaze flicking to the shadow in the doorway. Renee. He smiles and waves the woman inside.

[Jesse Fforde]

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


<Bastion Courbon> Looking up at the movement in the doorway he notices they are not alone. He turns the hand he had been looking at around and gives a weak wave. "To Jesse he gives a questioning look. He seems more concerned about making sure the stranger doesn't know what they were discussing than what is actually going on.

* Renee smiles back to him as she enters the room. "Giving out gold stars now eh? Maybe I should of waited to be turned." She chuckled playfully "He doesn't seem to be in too bad of shape." She found herself a seat in one of the other chairs in the room.

* Jesse Fforde shrugs. "Cosette was okay, too, until she got worse," he says in observation. "Bastion, this is Renee. She's a vampire. I'm a vampire. You will be, too, if you survive this. Renee, meet Bastion," he says, watching the guy as he had been observing his own hand. "I suppose the paleness of it depends on which path you take..."

<Renee> "It's nice to meet you Bastion." She smiled again at the new comer

* Bastion Courbon lets out a sigh of relief seeing that the woman is like Jesse. "Hi, I'm Bastion," he says, wincing slightly at the dull throbbing in his head. "I like flowers, long walks on the beach and being bitten on rooftops..." Well, his sense of humor has returned slightly. Maybe it's because he feels more at ease knowing he was right, maybe it's the opportunity to join the "club". Maybe it's bravado, sitting in front of not one but two apex predators is slightly alarming.

<Renee> "I'm not one for flowers." She smirked at the man, a hint of laughter in her voice. "How did you two meet?"

<Bastion Courbon> He glances to Jesse, feeling that it might be best for him to explain since it's still somewhat of a blur for him. That and the loopiness he is feeling, bordering of giddiness wouldn't help in his attempt to explain anything.

<Jesse Fforde> "We were stargazing," Jesse says. "On a rooftop. Terribly romantic," he says, leaning back slightly as the two joke around. He is watching Bastion very carefully. Watching and taking mental note of how his bodily reactions. He'll have to have some of Jesse's blood, soon. But there is no rush. not really.

<Renee> "I'm jealous." She smirked as she winked at Bastion.

<Bastion Courbon> "I knew you were real," he says carefully. "I saw someone bitten before but I ran away. I guess they didn't see me." He rubs his temples with both hands, headache starting to throb.

<Jesse Fforde> "Well then," Jesse says, feeling somewhat satisfied now, in his choice. This should at least, in part, appease Micah. Jesse had inadvertently accidentally turned and prevented a further break of Masquerade. "You were a liability. Now you just might become immortal as a punishment. How do you feel about that?"

<Bastion Courbon> Furrowing his brow he gives the question serious thought. For a long moment he remains silent and then answers as simply as he can. "I think anything beats being human."

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse continues to grin. Not a ****-eating grin, like it could be. Not as smug as if could be, either. There's pure bliss in that grin; a cheshire-cat kind of grin. "Let's pretend that's how it went down then, hm? I offered. You accepted," he says. He then stands. "Excuse me a second," he says; he's going to head to the kitchen, to fill himself up on blood; to make sure he is as full and as strong as he can be before continuing with the night's activities.

<Bastion Courbon> Bastion merely nods. White lie. Had that been how it went down he would have answered yes 1000 times over. "So Renee, what's wrong with flowers?"

[Renee]

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



* Renee turned her steely gray eyes to Bastion after Jesse leaves the room. "Never really got any plus my sister can't have any so I don't see the point in having any myself "

<Bastion Courbon> He doesn't quite know how to respond to that. He doesn't know Renee's sister and being a stranger, not to mention potential snack, he keeps his questions to himself for now. "What's it like being immortal?"

* Renee chuckles at the question. "Not very different than being mortal. Less fear of death, more cool powers, and a sun burn can kill you." She chuckled again. "It's what you make it to be really."

<Bastion Courbon> Cupping his head in his hands, fighting down the sickness washing over him he merely nods.Though he has a million questions he figures he might just have forever to answer them. "Gotta suck less than being human."

<Renee> "I didn't mind being human." She looked at him with concern. "I was in less trouble as a human. Are you alright?"

<Jesse Fforde> While in the kitchen, Jesse microwaves and consumes at least two blood packs; there are plenty more in there for later. They aren't as good as the fresh stuff - they never are - but he'd had his fill of the fresh stuff the evening before. It's as if he can still feel the warmth of Bastion's blood coursing through his system. He returns to the room to catch Renee's question. "I'm going to guess that's a no," he says, before dragging his own chair closer to the bed. "He hasn't taken his medicine yet," he says.

<Bastion Courbon> Is he fine? Of course he's fine, what does she mean is he... Bastion slumps forward a moment and then falls over to the side, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

<Renee> "Medicine." She snorted "Sounds about right."

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse mumbles incoherently as Bastion slumps, blood trickling from his facial orifices. Well, that doesn't look good. Jesse claps a hand on Bastion's shoulder and squeezes, shaking just a little in case the guy is close to passing out - or if he already has. To wake him up. "Buck up, man," he says, before lifting his own wrist and tearing a gash over the vein. He holds it in front of Bastion's mouth - he's going to have to figure out a way to do this without ruining all the bedsheets.

<Bastion Courbon> Instinctively perhaps he reaches out and just as eagerly as last night clamps his mouth around the spurting wrist. The headaches, gone, the stomach ache, gone. Or maybe it's just forgotten, washed away on a crimson tide.

<Renee> "Was it like this with Cosette?" She asked more so out of fascination than curiosity.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse finds it hard to keep a straight face. Honestly, he'd be happy to slump there and let Bastion drain him dry. It's a struggle not to moan, to not swoon like someone had just injected hot heroin into his veins. For Renee's sake - or perhaps for the sake of appearances - he physically swallows that urge and turns a burning gaze upon Renee. "Yeah," he manages. He thought he'd said as much on the Crow - but can't summon the energy to reprimand her for not reading properly. At the moment, he can't really care.

<Bastion Courbon> Draining as much as he can, slightly more than the previous night, Bastion finally manages to release Jesse's wrist. His face caked with gore he manages a smile before slipping back down onto the bed. "I think it's the human blood fighting, like a virus you know?" Then he's out cold, drifted off not from pain, but from exhaustion.

<Renee> "Well that was interesting"

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse frowns down at the slumped body. He shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah, interesting. That's one word for it," he says, settling back in the armchair. The next time Bastion wakes up, he's going to have to try to organise a shower.

[Jesse Fforde]

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

<Jesse Fforde> Larch Court is home base. Though, Jesse was beginning to wonder whether he shouldn't have invested in something a bit more like a stronghold, rather than on Gresse's. A whole lot of drama had fallen upon the family's shoulders - and the one thing that Jesse could focus on that had nothing to do with any of it, the one thing he could devote his time to, was his new progeny. The guy still in bed; the one who probably has no clue. The ins and outs of the rest of the family, the activity around him, is something he might start to consider the norm, rather than thinking it was an odd spike in activity. Jesse lingers nearby, sitting at a table with a bunch of papers spread out in front of him. Working on numbers, signing contracts. Boring ****, really.

<Bastion Courbon> In and out of consciousness, Bastion has seen multiple people come in and out over the last couple days. The symptoms, the headaches, nausea, pain, sickness all have seemed to slacken and increase randomly but the timeframe between the good and bad times are shortening. Pushing himself up to a seated position he looks around with bloodshot eyes. Seeing Jesse he gives a small sigh of relief. "I think it's getting better," he croaks optimistically.

<Jesse Fforde> Glancing up, Jesse rakes his fingers through his hair and drops the pen onto the desk. He stands and wanders over, pulling up the same chair as before. He hadn't had much chance to talk to Bastion about what was happening; about what and who he would be. Jesse clears his throat. "Good. That's good," he says. "Think you can stay conscious long enough to have a chat?" he asks, curiously.

<Bastion Courbon> The first thought is Yeah! All I need is a pot of coffee! The queasy feeling that elicits however stays his hand. Instead he nods. "I think so..." He's vaguely noted a growing sense of detachment growing inside of him..Thoughts of blood, the impending hunt, all the things he's considered about vampires throughout his time as a self-professed student of the undead have been racing through his head. Maybe it is time to ask questions. First though, he'll hear what Jesse has to say. "Yeah, definitely".

<Jesse Fforde> The nightly ritual has been the same. How many has it been, now? Four? Five? Even throughout all the other distractions--the retrieval of his belongings from the Eyrie hut, the rituals, the organisation of his ritual items, the replanting of the hydros--he had managed to come back each night to feed more blood to Bastion. And, in this space, Jesse is calm. Like a hum of comfort has settled around him. This is something he can do. This is something he knows. "More blood now, or later?" he asks, first.

<Bastion Courbon> Bastion thinks for a moment. The blood he has started to crave like a heroin addict craves his junk, or the answers he needs Might be the hardest decision he's ever made. Internally he is torn. Body vs mind. Summoning all his willpower he says "Probably best to talk first..." Hesitant... very hesitant.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse laughs. He scratches at a stray itch at the back of his head. He knows how it feels, to crave blood. It's all he ever craves. It's an insatiable thirst that constantly rips at his throat. Jesse nods. "Okay," he says. "Talk first," he leans back. "Bastion Courbon. You are now a vampire. You belong to family Fforde. You will have seen some of the members coming and going. You can no longer go out in the sun. You will need to drink blood to survive. You will not see yourself in mirrors, or be able to eat human food or drink human beverages--unless you're an Allurist. An Allurist is one of the vampiric paths, of which there are six. We will figure yours out as soon as we are able," he says. "Garlic does not affect us, nor do crosses. Not really. Stakes are stupid. Have I covered all the lore?"

<Bastion Courbon> He listens... deep inside he knows he should be wigging out. He should be thinking that this can't be real. At the same time, something has been growing in him, displacing those human thoughts, fears, concerns. Instead of flipping his lid he cocks his head to one side and asks simply, "What about running water, holy ground, burial facedown at crossroads, rock in the mouth, needing to sleep in soil of the homeland and does drinking other vampires blood give us their power?" His mind is clear for the first time... possibly ever. It's odd since the need is supercharged and making him feel like a caged animal, it's not just a craving... it feels like a necessity.

<Jesse Fforde> A lot of these things Jesse hadn't even heard of. Where do these myths come from? Are there vampires out there who suffer from these curses? It wouldn't surprise him, given the things that he seems to suffer. None of those things are written in lore, however. Jesse shakes his head to all but the last. The last is something that needs some dwelling on. "None of that makes any difference, as far as I am aware. What I have grown to learn is that some vampires, regardless of lineage, suffer different curses to others. But no, in my experience, none of that will affect you. There are humans known as Blood Thieves. They have the ability to gain power by drinking the blood of vampires. As a vampire, however, if you drink the blood of other vampires you become a Necurat. They are frowned upon in our society. You do not gain the powers of other vampires. But if you choose that route, you cannot feed from humans. Ever again. I would not recommend it," he answers.

<Bastion Courbon> Taking everything in for a moment he nods slowly. "Humans only. That works for me..." Even as a human he never liked humans. "What would you advise I make my immediate goals? Are there laws for vampires? How many of us are there? Are we peaceful toward teach other?"

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse laughs. It's a rough sound, coming from his gruff throat. As if he doesn't laugh all too often. Not smooth at all. Sandpaper. And he is very highly amused. "The only law, really, is to not be seen. Do not be seen feeding, or using any of your newfound abilities in public. If you are seen, you end up on a bounty list. And you will be hunted. And killed," he says. "This is something I do not sway on. If you get on that bounty list, I'll shoot you myself," he says very matter-of-fact, that humour erased from his tone. Though it does return, almost immediately. "Vampires are not peaceful toward each other. Not at all. Violence seems to be the trade. A little more than eye for an eye," he says, maybe a little bitter. "As for your goals? You still need to earn that gold star, buddy. Get better. Get strong. You can then peruse the family Crownet and see what kind of skills we are in need of," he says.

<Bastion Courbon> Bastion nods again. It's a lot to take in, especially when one's veins feel like they are empty, one's arteries pumping dust. "How do I earn that star?" He looks back to Jesse, meeting his eyes.

<Jesse Fforde> "Stay alive," Jesse says. "And then there are more gold stars to earn after that," he adds. But, he's smirking. He could be joking. He might not be. But not really. He doesn't really expect that his family jump hurdles or reach ridiculous expectations. Mainly he just likes them to keep the Masquerade and... be around. "You also should not go out into the wilderness. Don't hang around out there. There are Fae who like to eat us for breakfast. Once you're stronger, I'll take you to the Quarantine Zone to meet the zombies. There are plenty of other foe to contend with, too."

<Bastion Courbon> Fae... vampires... zombies... real. He knew it! His friends never believed him. He had seen what he had seen though. "The military place? We can go in there?" He wasn't sure how deeply vampiric sway had taken hold over the "leaders" of the world.

<Jesse Fforde> "The... well there's kind of two of those," he says. "There's the Quarantine Zone. That one isn't guarded, except by a wall. But there are ways in through the sewer system. There's also the catacombs, and the Mausoleum. Ancient Zombies live there, as well as the Mooncalves. There used to be an entrance behind the abandoned church in Cherrydale, but that's guarded by the army, now. Again, though--we can get in through the sewers. When down in the sewers, however, you gotta be careful. That's where the Hunters lurk..." Jesse says. He knows it's a lot. Maybe too much too fast. But all this can be rehashed, when they get out and about.

<Bastion Courbon> It is a lot to take in, Bastion knows he won't remember all of it, but the main points are imprinted in his mind as he listens. "Mooncalves?" Those he has never heard of before. "What's a mooncalf?"

<Jesse Fforde> "Those are harder to explain," Jesse says. He pauses. He doesn't actually know where the mooncalves came from or why they respawn. "They're not like the Fadebeasts - Fadebeasts are creatures of shadow and flesh. They're born, sometimes, when a vampire becomes pregnant. That's a thing. So make sure you continue to stay protected," he smirks. "But seriously - because it'll kill the chick. Almost definitely. Mooncalves, though... I think they must be the horrible result of some weird *** fuckin' experiment. They're like... Frankenstein's monster on steroids. Mish-mashed ****," he says with a shrug.

[Bastion Courbon]

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


<Bastion Courbon> "Genetic tinkering maybe?" Humans were definitely both smart and stupid enough to do it. A quarantine zone would be perfect for illegal experiments. He voices his theory to Jesse. "So there's a spot the military controls, and it's got weird miss-matched mooncalf things in it... why are they there specifically? I mean sounds like some genetic tinkering to weaponize a virus or something that might have made the zombies and maybe the mooncalves are from genetic splicing?"

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse shakes his head. "I don't know. I never really was curious enough to ask. I just... like killing them," he says with a shrug. Maybe he should ask these questions. Now, on leave from his faction and not going back to Masterpiece for the foreseeable future, he's got a lot of time on his hands. Maybe he and Bastion can do some research together. Cosette would probably join in - she's the anthropologic type. "The mooncalves hang out in both places. They sort of... stay centralized due to the Masquerade. Vampire-kind try to keep all other supernaturals under control so as to keep the humans from asking questions about what else might be out there," he explains, roughly.

<Bastion Courbon> "So in effect we police the less intelligent supernaturals so they don't blow the secrecy thing?" He thinks for a moment. "Is that what the fae are doing to us? Keeping us confined and contained?"

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse sits silent, just staring at the guy. Where are these questions coming from? Jesse's never had to answer these kinds of questions before, and this is yet another one he has no idea what to do with. "I think the fae are just assholes who like to play games," he says. "And frankly, I'm used to keeping them contained. Getting things out of them that I need. I do rituals," he says.

<Bastion Courbon> "Oh," he says quietly. He had skimmed the surface on Wicca, Voodoo and Santeria while investigating the paranormal but it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. "What type of rituals?"

<Jesse Fforde> "All kinds," Jesse says. "I can... summon valuable objects. I can create tomes that will bring you right back to this spot as soon as you read them. I can... take people's blood or give it back to them. I can take their energy, or give it back. I can... make this house unwelcome to certain individuals or I can lock it down completely, so even family can't come back inside," he says. That's just skimming the surface. He shrugs. "There's a whole lot that I do not use."

<Bastion Courbon> Bastion just sits there staring this time. The closest thing he's heard of to some of this is Voodoo and that only scratched the surface of some of these rituals. "Holy ****... will I be able to do all that?"

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse shrugs. "If you choose to learn how to do rituals, then yeah. Sure. But there are plenty of other things you can do. You should dabble in each, and see which you prefer," Jesse says. He leans forward, and pushes his sleeves up to his elbows. "Any other question? There's plenty more for you to know, but a lot of it is learned by practical experiment."

<Bastion Courbon> "Bram Stoker... Renfield, Dracula's minion. He was controlled by Dracula. Can we do that?"

<Jesse Fforde> "Do... sure, yeah. I have a Renfield. His name is Bradley Cross," he says. "But that's a thing you learn how to do with time. You can't do it straight away. You know those paths I was mentioning before? That ability is on the Allurist path. I've been a vampire for... two years. Nearly three. Somewhere in between. I've only just learned how to do that one..." he explains.

<Bastion Courbon> Of course hearing that Bastion grins. "I bet Bram Stoker was a Renfield. Dracula was real, but that wasn't his name. He was likely English to begin with, the traveling with the coffins thing by boat was a ruse, fictional. They were behind the book to promote a bunch of fake weaknesses but left just enough real to confuse what was what."

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse scoffs. "Maybe. Maybe not. You're one of those conspiracy theory nuts, aren't you?" Jesse asks. He's filling Bastion in on all he needs to know, but the two of them really aren't doing much of getting to know each other. "Who were you before you were here?"

<Bastion Courbon> Bastion thinks about it for a while. "Well, I guess I was kind of a conspiracy theory nut... but at least some of it was right. I had a small group of friends but once I saw what I saw they thought I was lying and kind of blew me off. I did good in school, didn't bother with college, went into working odd jobs, construction, food service, and stuff like that. I did some travelling. Guess I grew disenchanted with people because they either refuse to see what's right in front of them or they have to make something up to believe in instead of just believing what simply makes sense you know?"

<Jesse Fforde> "I grew disenchanted with people for a whole bunch of reasons," Jesse says. He gets it. But belief has absolutely nothing to do with it. People are just fucked up. He shrugs his shoulders. "Who we are as humans seems to ... become heightened when we are turned into vampires. I'm not going to tell you you've suddenly been inducted into some super cool cult where everyone is reasonable and worth keeping as acquaintances. I can only hope I've brought you into a family you can learn to admire. They're all... eccentric, in their own ways," he says with a smirk.

<Bastion Courbon> "You took me away from everything I hated. You've made me a predator or the people I hated my whole life. I never felt like I belonged. I never felt like it mattered." Bastion looks up again to Jesse and gives a little grin. "I hope I'm a better vampire than I was a human".

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse smiles. He likes this development. At least, for the moment. He arches a brow. "You've been holed up in a bed for ... nearly a week. You haven't discovered anything yet. You don't know whether you'll like it or not, so hold your judgment," Jesse says. He holds up his arm. "Ready for your medicine yet?"

<Bastion Courbon> Bastion's eyes lock onto and follow the movement of Jesse's wrist. He can almost taste the blood - his medicine. A strange thirst/addiction swells up, constricting his voice, choking off anything he was about to say. He only nods.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse watches the guy carefully. He's been watching Bastion carefully all along, his eyes sharp and gleaming in the low light. He lifts his wrist to his mouth, canines digging into flesh to bring the blood to the surface. He holds the wrist out, keeping his other hand beneath the dripping wound to keep it from marring the bedding. Again.

<Bastion Courbon> This time Bastion is on it like a lamprey. He closes his lips around the wound and draws his medicine forth languidly, a stark contrast to the need he is feeling. Savoring the flow of blood, the heady feeling, the power flowing forth from the wound. Life. Each time he has fed he has felt part of his humanity ebbing. Waning away like the pregnant moon retreating into the shadows. This time is no different. He Takes the time to analyze the way his former morals, values, teachings recede back into his mind and replaces the void with his new commandments. Secrecy, survival, family...

<Jesse Fforde> There's that swoon again. Like always. That fusion of adrenaline and bliss that comes whenever blood is forcefully taken from his system. It might make him weak. It's a flaw. An addiction. Something that he needs to try to curb. But this? This helps. This week long curse is not really a curse, but a blessing, right? Maybe it'll weed out the weak because only the strong can survive. It's a week-long high. Jesse does not swoon, however. He remains sitting upright. His fingers are loose and his wrist bent and he does not resist. He waits. He lets Bastion take as much as he needs to.

<Bastion Courbon> As before, seemingly on cue Bastion soon begins to appear feverish, sweat, now mingled with a light sheen of blood begins to break out on his forehead. He stops sucking at the wound and perhaps instinctively licks it. Nothing happens and he actually appears perplexed... whether it is at the wound not closing, the lick itself, or the fact that he feels sick suddenly is a matter for debate. Within a few moments his head is hitting the pillow with a look of pure agony tearing across his features.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse frowns down at the man. The bond is there. It is stronger than it was in the beginning. It seems to grow stronger every night, though with moments of flickering, of sparkling like a live wire that doesn't really know whether to light the fuse or not. Jesse collects the edge of the blanket and tugs it up over Bastion's shoulders - he then laughs at himself for being so... what? No one saw. It doesn't matter. He stands, and makes his way to the kitchen. His blood has been thinned--now he needs to replenish.