Path of the Vampire forum

The hoarse shout--thick and muffled in the other man's mouth--registered dimly. Grey's focus is on the faint give of flesh under his teeth; the slight resistance of soft tissue and tendon as his canine teeth sink home, burying themselves inside of a wrist. The blood that welled from the skin of Jesse's wrist was dark; the shade reflecting near-black in the thin light of the alley. Spilling like ink across his tongue, filling his mouth with a sharp, bitter taste. It was devoid of warmth; a sharp contrast to his own, which continued to bead and break from the wound, leaving thin trickles of wavering lines of red to streak his skin, seeping to stain the collar of his shirt. Cold, and slightly thick. He remembered the first time he'd done it; how he couldn't decide, after, which had been worse: the way the blood had felt vaguely thick--clotted--in his mouth, tasting heavily of soiled coins--or the almost immediate after effects. How he'd reeled under the near-viral assault of deadened cells that tore at his own. Overpowering. Rewriting. Consuming. Not all. But enough.

He'd gagged, then; sides taut and sore with dry heaves as his body fought to reject the subtle change. That had been months ago. He'd rarely fed since, limiting the peculiar urge to one primary donor. Substituting one high for the next; a gradual, tentative weaning. Not that it compared. Not that it could ever hope to, though the rush of it still left him breathless, addled and slightly spun. Overwhelmed by how the world at once narrowed and sharpened. It would've been easy to lose himself to the initial rush; to forget that it was born of necessity. That he'd chosen that path in a vague effort to survive. To gain even footing with those in the world who were not unlike the man who still loomed over him.

It wasn't a need. Not in the same way. Yet, ironically, it was as much of a question of addiction for Grey as it was for Jesse. He half-expected Jesse to reach up and around to tear out his throat. So when the vampire responded by tipping his head forward until his forehead came to rest against a shoulder, he was...startled. Confused. He kept still, uncertain. As if shrugging Jesse off might somehow shatter whatever fragile advantage he had. He reached tentatively a second later, his fingers tightening around Jesse's wrist, tugging sharply in order to pull his arm away from the wall. He cradled his wrist with both hands a second later; grip firm, borderline greedy. He drank heedlessly, with the other man's wrist forced against his lips. He felt the shift in Jesse's posture; the way his muscles relaxed, fist unclenching.

He forced himself to slow a second later, the firm draw of his mouth faltering. He wasn't certain how much he could drink, before he crossed the invisible threshold he toed. He broke away a split second later, chest heaving, chin wet and dark. He licked his lips reflexively, dropping Jesse's wrist as he twisted away, eying him warily, posture tense. "Are you done?" He asked flatly.

There's no immediate response. His question hung in the air between them, the acoustics of the squat brick building making it sharper, giving it a brittle edge. Jesse, swept up in his own euphoria, was still. His rigid posture broke with an unsettling abruptness. It was a lurching violence of motion. Graceless. Clumsy. The vampire moved like a drunkard, leaning heavily against the wall. The same space that Grey had occupied seconds before. There's a chilling familiarity in the way the tension leaves his jaw, so that it's nearly slack. In the slightly vacant look. As if, in that split second, the vampire isn't so much looking at things as through them. He recoiled from the thought almost as quickly as it formed. He is nothing like Jesse. But he's grateful for the silence; the way it allowed him to focus on the way his world seemed, impossibly, to expand. Everything sharper, clearer. Better. His breath no longer escaped in shallow, hissing crackles; the tightness in his chest easing, loosening. The blood he'd ingested wasn't enough to heal, but it staved off the worst of the discomfort. Held the onset of shock at bay.


Jesse spoke a second later, his words hoarse. Strained. Barely above a whisper. That isn't what catches his attention. "Grey?" The word is distant, tinny. Muffled. The voice on the end of the line is puzzled, and for a moment it's enough to snap him out of his stupor. He hisses a breath through his teeth; a sharp noise, a choked, half-feral noise of alarm and frustration. His phone. His gaze fixes on it--the source of the wavering question. It had landed to Jesse's immediate right, just at the toe of his shoe. He reached for it unthinkingly, immediately shoving the device into his pocket. ****! His lips part, pulse racing, breath a ragged, uneven tempo. What had Jesse heard, if anything? How much of it had he heard? His fingers fell to his thigh, pressuring against the vague outline of his phone. White-knuckled. "Sure," he says at last, having found his voice. Willing to stay even. "No arguments here." He took a step backwards as Jesse abruptly shoved away from the wall; half-stumbling. His earlier bravado was gone, leaving no trace of his earlier defiance. There is only the instinct to escape.

Dignity be damned. "Just. So we're clear..." He took a careful step forward, his gaze steady. Approaching the vampire with a confidence that was inherently dishonest. "**** with me again? And I'll kill your ***** boy." His words were steady, even as he jerked his chin over his shoulder. The gesture was pointed, encouraging Jesse to follow the path of his gaze. To where it lingered, pointedly, on Axel. And with that, he straightened, back rigid as he turned on his heel. His steps, while not particularly fast, were purposeful. Not a hint of the man's obvious infirmity to be found. And then he was gone.

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