Plip. Plip. Plip.
The first thing that came back to me was that. The haunting and yet organic sound of liquid on liquid wasn’t anything different than what one might expect from a broken faucet, but displaced from the norm as it was; it was unnerving. I attempted to open my eyes, and found that I couldn’t see anything. For a brief panic stricken moment, I wondered if I had somehow gone blind. People liked to joke about the Dragomir eyes. Eye of the Dragon for a ritual. Pluck out the eye of a Dragon. It was no secret that we were an odd bunch, or that one could pick us out of a crowd in a heartbeat just with that eerie gaze. But I wasn’t blind. I just had something covering me, some kind of bands around my head, and then a sack on top of that to make absolutely sure that not even a little bit of light could get in.
My shoulders hunched forward and inward as if I were trying to conserve warmth. Really, I was just trying to figure out what was happening to me, while my senses gradually dawdled back to me. I made a checklist in my head. The place smelled dank – like some sort of moss covered underdwelling. I could taste my own blood on my mouth, and there was a dull ache in my head. I didn’t remember where I’d been before waking up, but the two above made me assume I had been taken by force. My anima reserves were gone. Normally I would have summoned spirits so that I could consume their essence and release myself with a simple flick of a burning wrist to eat away at the fabric of whatever was restraining me. I felt weakened, with aches and throbbing pains in various parts of my body. I had been bled out.
Whoever had decided to play this particular game with me had done a very good job.
“When do you think he is going to wake up?” I heard footsteps after the words, and knew that they had to be talking about me. Something about the way the guy (I assumed based on the baritone of his voice) said it made me laugh. Of course, I hadn’t been breathing, and I was pretty sure my lung was punctured, and my throat slashed open, so it really came out as more of a wheeze through the slit in my neck. The men didn’t notice.
“If he’s not awake by now, we’re going to have to figure out a way to get him up. The boss says he’s got connection to the Necropolis Nightclub and the Dragomir Temple, so the sooner we talk to him, the better.” He said it as if he were talking to some sort of child. He was clearly the ‘senior’ member of whatever group had decided to take me, and he was showing the newbie the ropes. Under normal circumstances I might have felt for him. But you know. I was tied up and not exactly in any position to feel sympathetic with the people who had done it. I heard a key turning in a lock.
There were definitely two of them. With my senses mostly returned to me, I could make out two distinct footsteps. One was heavier, and a little disrhythmic, the sort one might expect from someone who was either large, or who had suffered some kind of leg wound in the past. The other was a little lighter, barely there. Like someone was dancing on the very tips of their toes. Of course, in my near deliriously unblooded state, I was able to focus on that sort of thing. I had always been calm in life. In death, I had been compared to others as a porcelain mask of blankness. I never knew whether or not to take that as some sort of compliment or not, but I got the general impression I should have been scared.
I was more annoyed at the inconvenience.
There was a long moment of pause, and I could feel eyes on me. Were they just standing there looking at me? “Are you fuckwits going to do anything?” I attempted to ask. The words were on the very tip of my tongue, but they ended up gurgling out as nothing more than what felt like raspy bubbles on my chin. ******* ****. Well at the very least, they began to move. I heard a click somewhere in the distance, and there was that low hum that always seemed to accompany fluorescent lights. I could only assume they’d turned some sort of illumination on me. I could feel coolness against my chest and legs. I had been completely stripped down save for the gear on my head. Wonderful.
There was a pressure on my chest for a moment. Fingers that came away sticky and wet. I wanted to lash out with my fist – not because I was angry, but because I wanted to return to my life. I lead a rather simple existence. I never bothered people. I tried to be helpful to my community – my amazingly fucked up and crazy community. I didn’t go out of my way to hurt humans (I assumed these jackasses were hunters), and the only time I ever did anything - it was because someone had fucked with the Dragomir. But wasn’t that the great hypocrisy of my life? I always claimed neutrality, but dropped it like a bad habit when it involved my people. Ironic. They never wanted to return the favor. That was part of why I had grown so isolated over the years. Putting my soul into something, to be spat on by people who wanted to ‘do their own thing’, who had no respect for me.
Nobody had ever lifted a weapon in defense of me, even when demanding I do it for them. My way had always been diplomatic. I knew a lot of my people disliked me for it. Disliked that I didn’t immediately jump in to attack whoever their hatred du jour. And yet when I had been attacked for a solid month by someone else’s thrall, not even one person had even attempted to hunt it down. Kill it. Always asking for more. Never giving in return. It was a big part of why I had chosen neutrality. Because the sad and painfully simple truth was that I was alone. People liked me when I could do something for them, but otherwise I was a non-entity. People were greedy.
In a lot of ways, the things that I had loved most had broken me.
Fingers curled into my chin and forced it up. I could feel skin separating from skin as they attempted to knit together. The sensation was painful and it brought a mist to my eyes that soaked through whatever was covering them. I could feel my back arching and straining away from the chair (I assumed) I was sitting on. My legs were also bound in place, and so the tension in my body grew.
“We have some questions for you, Mr. Carpenter.” They had used my human name, not my vampiric name. Well. At least they weren’t too well informed.
[Posted as Azraeth]The first thing that came back to me was that. The haunting and yet organic sound of liquid on liquid wasn’t anything different than what one might expect from a broken faucet, but displaced from the norm as it was; it was unnerving. I attempted to open my eyes, and found that I couldn’t see anything. For a brief panic stricken moment, I wondered if I had somehow gone blind. People liked to joke about the Dragomir eyes. Eye of the Dragon for a ritual. Pluck out the eye of a Dragon. It was no secret that we were an odd bunch, or that one could pick us out of a crowd in a heartbeat just with that eerie gaze. But I wasn’t blind. I just had something covering me, some kind of bands around my head, and then a sack on top of that to make absolutely sure that not even a little bit of light could get in.
My shoulders hunched forward and inward as if I were trying to conserve warmth. Really, I was just trying to figure out what was happening to me, while my senses gradually dawdled back to me. I made a checklist in my head. The place smelled dank – like some sort of moss covered underdwelling. I could taste my own blood on my mouth, and there was a dull ache in my head. I didn’t remember where I’d been before waking up, but the two above made me assume I had been taken by force. My anima reserves were gone. Normally I would have summoned spirits so that I could consume their essence and release myself with a simple flick of a burning wrist to eat away at the fabric of whatever was restraining me. I felt weakened, with aches and throbbing pains in various parts of my body. I had been bled out.
Whoever had decided to play this particular game with me had done a very good job.
“When do you think he is going to wake up?” I heard footsteps after the words, and knew that they had to be talking about me. Something about the way the guy (I assumed based on the baritone of his voice) said it made me laugh. Of course, I hadn’t been breathing, and I was pretty sure my lung was punctured, and my throat slashed open, so it really came out as more of a wheeze through the slit in my neck. The men didn’t notice.
“If he’s not awake by now, we’re going to have to figure out a way to get him up. The boss says he’s got connection to the Necropolis Nightclub and the Dragomir Temple, so the sooner we talk to him, the better.” He said it as if he were talking to some sort of child. He was clearly the ‘senior’ member of whatever group had decided to take me, and he was showing the newbie the ropes. Under normal circumstances I might have felt for him. But you know. I was tied up and not exactly in any position to feel sympathetic with the people who had done it. I heard a key turning in a lock.
There were definitely two of them. With my senses mostly returned to me, I could make out two distinct footsteps. One was heavier, and a little disrhythmic, the sort one might expect from someone who was either large, or who had suffered some kind of leg wound in the past. The other was a little lighter, barely there. Like someone was dancing on the very tips of their toes. Of course, in my near deliriously unblooded state, I was able to focus on that sort of thing. I had always been calm in life. In death, I had been compared to others as a porcelain mask of blankness. I never knew whether or not to take that as some sort of compliment or not, but I got the general impression I should have been scared.
I was more annoyed at the inconvenience.
There was a long moment of pause, and I could feel eyes on me. Were they just standing there looking at me? “Are you fuckwits going to do anything?” I attempted to ask. The words were on the very tip of my tongue, but they ended up gurgling out as nothing more than what felt like raspy bubbles on my chin. ******* ****. Well at the very least, they began to move. I heard a click somewhere in the distance, and there was that low hum that always seemed to accompany fluorescent lights. I could only assume they’d turned some sort of illumination on me. I could feel coolness against my chest and legs. I had been completely stripped down save for the gear on my head. Wonderful.
There was a pressure on my chest for a moment. Fingers that came away sticky and wet. I wanted to lash out with my fist – not because I was angry, but because I wanted to return to my life. I lead a rather simple existence. I never bothered people. I tried to be helpful to my community – my amazingly fucked up and crazy community. I didn’t go out of my way to hurt humans (I assumed these jackasses were hunters), and the only time I ever did anything - it was because someone had fucked with the Dragomir. But wasn’t that the great hypocrisy of my life? I always claimed neutrality, but dropped it like a bad habit when it involved my people. Ironic. They never wanted to return the favor. That was part of why I had grown so isolated over the years. Putting my soul into something, to be spat on by people who wanted to ‘do their own thing’, who had no respect for me.
Nobody had ever lifted a weapon in defense of me, even when demanding I do it for them. My way had always been diplomatic. I knew a lot of my people disliked me for it. Disliked that I didn’t immediately jump in to attack whoever their hatred du jour. And yet when I had been attacked for a solid month by someone else’s thrall, not even one person had even attempted to hunt it down. Kill it. Always asking for more. Never giving in return. It was a big part of why I had chosen neutrality. Because the sad and painfully simple truth was that I was alone. People liked me when I could do something for them, but otherwise I was a non-entity. People were greedy.
In a lot of ways, the things that I had loved most had broken me.
Fingers curled into my chin and forced it up. I could feel skin separating from skin as they attempted to knit together. The sensation was painful and it brought a mist to my eyes that soaked through whatever was covering them. I could feel my back arching and straining away from the chair (I assumed) I was sitting on. My legs were also bound in place, and so the tension in my body grew.
“We have some questions for you, Mr. Carpenter.” They had used my human name, not my vampiric name. Well. At least they weren’t too well informed.
