Caverns Crashing.

[Jesse Fforde]

Love makes a man vulnerable. It turns him inside out and exposes the soft flesh of his underbelly to the elements. And the one to whom he had given his love is the sole wielder of the knife that could ruin him. Only they had the power to slash and gash at all those vital organs, now on the outside. But that’s the thing about love. It’s a package deal. It is gifted alongside trust and faith. One does not expect the sharp edge of a gift they had freely given to be used so ruthlessly against them.

The shadow that found itself embedded in Clover’s gut was retaliatory. It was an unavoidable, uncontrollable defence mechanism against the blows that she had already landed, the deep gouges invisible to the naked eye. But love was not so easily lost and the shock in her eyes -- eyes that Jesse knew so well -- was enough to summon regret. Shame. He loved her. He never wanted to hurt her. He never intended to maim her and killing her had never crossed his mind. His head shook, lips parted though he could say nothing. Surely if he knew her eyes better than he knew his own, if he could read every curve of her face like a book, then she could do the same. Even there in the darkness with the shadows playing games around them, she would read it in his eyes, in the crease between them and the downward curl of his lips.

I didn’t mean to, his eyes said. But you did. And how could you?

He wanted to refuse to believe that she had slept with another man but she had lied. She had lied. The realisation repeated itself over and over in his mind like a jungle drum. He was foolish to believe that her compulsive behaviour would curb just for him. It registered deep down that maybe he was overreacting, but the notion was rebutted by the facts. Somewhere deep down he knew it wasn’t so much the proximity or the intimacy that he was reacting to, it was the lie. It was one lie too many.

Trigg was only remembered when he spoke, blase and careless of the situation, his greeting sarcastic. How could it not be sarcastic? He didn’t defend himself, didn’t **** himself with fear. Just stood there like an arrogant twit who couldn’t see how his actions could be construed as wrong. If Jesse had touched another woman like Trigg had touched Clover, that woman’s skin would have been flayed from her bones. If any woman thought of touching Jesse that way, how would Clover react? She thought her jealousy was confined only to her, but she was wrong. Jesse felt it too. In spades.

She’d once asked for his support and he’d tried to give it to her. He’d talked himself around. He could, and he would support her.

It was why, now, he did nothing. He shouldn’t have hurt Clover, that was wrong. He took a step back. The shadows stepped back with him, folding themselves neatly back into neutrality. Another step back and the light left his eyes. The anger, the hurt, the rage, the incredulity -- it was pushed down and locked away until his eyes were hollow and his expression empty. He had no tongue, but there was nothing to say, anyway. He shook his head, just the once, and turned around. He walked away. He didn’t want to meet Trigg, he already had. He didn’t want to hear the explanation, or the excuses.

Trigg had said that Jesse should hate him, and he was right. Jesse hated Trigg.

But he didn’t hate Clover. He loved Clover. He couldn’t hate her. And that’s what hurt most of all.

[Clover]

Her flesh slowly began to fade back into existence; the black blood, the dark substance that resembled tar and moved like smoke, slowed and eventually stopped. When she smelled Trigg’s blood, she stopped breathing. She forced herself to focus on her retreating husband. He’d walked away. He’d really walked away. Panic immediately set in. She took several steps after him. She called out his name. But, inevitably, she went back to Trigg. The bleeding human needed help, and she could give him blood, if nothing else. She could hope that he adopted powers to heal himself, powers to restore the blood he continued to lose. At the forefront of her mind, she thought of Jesse. He’d walked away. He’d really walked away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled to Trigg, apologizing both for herself and for her husband. The scent of his blood returned and she did her best to reign in her bloodlust, but her inner predator told her to devour him, to drain him dry. She needed to retreat, to put some distance between them; however, she also found something incredibly fascinating about the blood spilling from the wound on his shoulder. Hesitantly, Clo reached out to him. She pressed a hand to the wound on his shoulder, applied pressure in the way that she felt he needed. “Do you need blood? Can you heal yourself? Do you need a hospital?” The questions came without allowing him the opportunity to reply. If he meant to reply, then he had to reply at the end, after she mentioned a hospital.

Though her palm pressed tightly against his shoulder, she spread her fingers. She took in the feel of his blood on her hand, on her fingers. So much blood. Sour, like apples. And, while she stood there, trying to decide whether or not the human needed immediate medical attention, her husband put more and more steps between them. Why hadn’t she chased him? Why hadn’t she left with him? Without a doubt, Trigg needed her more, but Trigg wasn’t her husband. She and the human had been caught together, caught in an embrace that shouldn’t have happened, and yet she remained with him rather than running after her retreating husband.

Clover should have kept her hand pressed to his wound, to maintain pressure and lessen the flow of blood, but she drew her hand away to lick at the blood. She seemed apologetic, for she did mean to assist him, but the blood looked so delicious. As she’d experienced before, she noted that his blood seemed off, not exactly pure. His blood was tainted with vampire blood. “I can probably fix this.” Clo prodded at the wound on his side, the spot where his blood had begun to gather. Yes, the shoulder was worse, but she hadn’t forgotten his side. Her hands weren’t exactly delicate, but she tried. She’d helped Jesse numerous times, so she felt confident that she could assist the human with his wounds; however, helping a vampire and helping a human were two very different things. “Or not,” she finally sighed. “I can teleport you to a hospital,” she decided right then. “I can get there and summon you. We can do that.” She’d decided then, without his permission. “Or I can carry you.” At that point, she had too many options for her to decide on her own. She had too much going on in her head.

Jesse had seen her in Trigg’s embrace. Her husband had seen another man caress her cheek. He’d walked away. ****, he’d walked away. Clo wanted to drive her fingers right into the wound on Trigg’s shoulder, to dig into the injury on his side. She wanted to open the human up and leave him for dead. And yet, she knew she had everything to do with her husband walking away. “He’s not usually violent,” she tried to explain. “He overreacted, and I’m sorry.” As if another apology would remedy Trigg’s wounds, she apologized for a second time. She apologized to him in the way she wanted to apologize to Jesse.

[Trigg (DELETED 9410)]

There she went again, this chick with her questions, with her expectations. Her hand against his wound would have been considerate, a necessary pressure to stop the bleeding, but it served as a firm reminder that pain was a thing and he suddenly felt it. Trigg winced loudly, flinching at the touch, trying to pull back but there was nowhere to go. An apology had been given for the events of the night as if it was her fault and not the crazy guy who'd just stabbed them. With shadows. What the ****, who did that? HOW did he do that? It was strange that Trigg was thinking about whether it would be possible to take that ability if he was to get hold of Jesse's blood, if he could just get a mouthful or two. Wrong, wrong thing to be focusing on and he tried to draw his attention back to the woman, to dissect her questions and choose which to answer first. His lips parted, mouth opening in readiness when that hand slid back.

And she licked his blood.

He was dumbstruck. She was watching him bleed, licking his blood from her fingers. He wanted to be furious, felt the anger boiling beneath the surface but then she was talking again. Distraction, movement and words. Trigg was watching her, no doubt looking like a flustered idiot with his wild eyes and mouth hanging open. What the hell was going on? Then more pain and he yelped, an honest to god yelp of pain and surprise. That seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back, the man's face collapsing into creases of fury and stress. "EESH. Stop it." He barked, the sound of his voice harsh, strained. "Stop.
Shut up, chick. You are doing my head in, ja? You're fokkin' mental. Give me a second to... STOP POKING AT MY WOUNDS!" He slapped at those hands to drive them away before changing his mind and reaching for them, trapping them between his own and yanking away perhaps a little too roughly. He just wanted them to stop. It hurt to move in that way, tore at them. "They'll heal. Got your powers, ey." The explanation was given through gritted teeth, trying to convey his message with as few words as possible because he wanted to try and concentrate on healing. The blood was already slowing, clotting and the skin knitting enough to start the process. He wouldn't need a hospital, but he would need blood, and rest, and for a vampire to not stick her fingers deeper into his wounds. "I need to get to a safe place. Fok.
You wanted me to meet THAT guy? Chick, what the hell? China think i'm trying to charf you? Ag, man." His hand shifted to cover his side, taking a deep breath. "This **** stings."

[Clover]

When he shouted at her, she stared at him in a cross between surprise and fascination. He’d shouted at her, really shouted at her, and he intended for her to listen to his instructions. Stop, as if she’d actually stop trying to assist him. But had she been assisting him in any fashion? Probably not, she thought to herself. More than likely, she’d made things worse. She’d withdrawn her hands from his shoulder to lick at the fresh blood. She’d left the injury without the pressure needed to slow the blood flow. If he hadn’t taken her hands in his, she might have continued poking and prodding at his wounds. His blood captured, and held, so much of her attention. Her apologies had been forgotten, even if her husband’s departure weighed heavy on her heart. Yes, Trigg’s shouting punctured her thoughts, but the rest of his words fell to the background, like useless mumblings. The surprise slowly slipped away. The fascination faded. His hands closed around hers, she simply stared at him. She stared at him as if she’d only met him moments before. And maybe his shouting had opened another side to him. Yes, that must have been true.

“Alright,” she sighed, her response lost between his words. She told herself that everything would work out, in the end. She’d remain with Trigg until she knew, for certain, that his wounds wouldn’t whisk his life away. And then she’d go home. She’d return to the apartment. She’d explain herself. Jesse would understand. He had to understand. Everything would work out. “I don’t have a safe place for you,” Clo said. “Wait,” she said, finally thinking about his words. She considered her house. Not her apartment, but her home in Larch Court. “I do, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The thought of taking Trigg home seemed wrong. She walked a razor’s edge by giving him her blood, by him giving her his blood. Taking him home seemed like taking things too far. “Don’t you have a home?” It was a thoughtless thing to say, but the words slipped from her lips before she even considered how they sounded, how they would come across. An apology came to life, but she pressed her lips together to keep from uttering the words. She didn’t need to apologize again. She’d apologized enough.

She didn’t know what Trigg meant by charf, but the word sounded bad. She’d slipped her hands from his and slapped them, rather hard. “I wouldn’t charf you either,” she said, sounding offended. After a long moment of silence, she spoke again. “What does that mean? Cheat me out of something?” The expression on her face revealed her confusion, but also her irritation at the thought of him cheating her out of something, namely her blood.

[Storyteller]

==========AUTOMATED RANDOM EVENTS SYSTEM==========

The group comes across a wounded individual, crying out for help.