The Spark (Jesse Fforde)

[Paige]

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

Paige: disengages her jaw to yawn widely. Feeding tonight had been a bore, but Paige was getting used to not making a huge mess. In fact, she  had been starting to lower security by the elevator in the Groom Center, and it was becoming a bit more of a thrill to take people by surprise, then leave them stumbling and complacent toward their destinations.

Jesse Fforde: normally had no reason to hang around in the Quarantine Zone, as he preferred to get his kicks from monsters and hunters that provided more of a challenge. Having recently discovered his need to fortify barriers in rituals, however, he realised he needed to stock up on the basics - Zombie ears being one of them. Rather than ask others for things that they themselves might need, when he had the capability of gathering himself, he'd taken to lounging around in the lobby of Corvidae flats - where he ran across Paige and Ursula, more often than not. Tonight is no different. After beheading a zombie and expertly slicing off its ear, he approaches his kin. "Paige," he nods in greeting, noting the wide yawn and recalling just how tired he himself was.

Paige: had been scolded the last time she saw Jesse, but tonight he seemed no different from his usual self. That was surprising to her. When she had been a human in the paladin order, her superior could make her feel guilty about the same thing even if it had occured a month prior. Vampires lived by a different code, it seemed, or perhaps just this family. "Good evening," she offered with a whisper, then glanced at his loot sack. She began to offer him some feral blood.

Jesse Fforde: had grown a little more reasonable recently, learning at least to not take out his constant irritation on others when they don't quite deserve it. Although the information he'd heard regarding Paige's antics had angered him, he hoped that his warning would be enough. He hadn't heard anything else regarding indiscretion on Paige's behalf, and thus chose to be civil. "How's things?" he asks, ice-blue gaze penetrating - it isn't a general question to which he wants a vague, non-committal response. He's genuinely inquiring.

Paige: Though Paige was being scrutinized, she felt no tension or aggression, so she sat down and offered Jesse the lobby chair beside her. It was easier to be at ease and ignore her territorial curse around family, which is why she sometimes came to Corvidae where her sisters could sometimes be found. She had seen Jesse more often in the sewer while she hunted paladins. Jonah as well, though not family, and Mr. Groom, her employer. The more familiar faces she saw, the less she was threatened by the masks of strangers. Paige waited for Jesse to sit, then whispered "Fine." He didn't seem at all satisfied with the non committal response, so she elaborated. "I just fed over at the Groom Center. It happened without incident. I had been having trouble being satisfied with feeding without making a mess. It has been getting easier. Slowly. But sometimes it is overwhelming. The urge to paint a room with blood and leave the bodies how I want them."

Jesse Fforde: does sit down beside Paige, one arm thrown up over the back of the chair, and lifting an ankle to rest on the opposite knee. He wore jeans and sneakers, and a tank top that was not at all fitted to the weather. But inside the QZ, he doesn't bother to hide what he is so much as he does elsewhere. There's muck and corpse blood smeared across formerly white tank top, and splattered across one shoulder and half his face. He rests his sword against the chair. The smirk that graces his lips is sinister, and in complete alignment with Paige's desires. "I hear you," he says. The urge to invite her to a slaughter is strong. "Maybe we should find a drug den somewhere..." he says. No, it's not something he should condone. But in his current state of mind, he's already thinking of ways it could be easily and promptly covered up.

Paige: It was almost a ritual, and one that Paige was coming to enjoy greatly: when she let them close, tried to make them understand her compulsion, someone would occasionally make an offer like Jesse had. At first the killings had been awkward as both vampires would have different ways of performing the act, and different reasons for picking different victims, so it was not always fulfilling. She had participated only robotically with Doc, and stumbled clumsily through the process with Roderic. More recently Christiana had caused an unfortunate house fire for a couple, and behaved perhaps in more crazy of a manner than Paige ever allowed herself to. Somehow, from those three killings, she had come to look forward to experiencing the kill through others' expectations. When Jesse smirked and offered with a twinkle in his eye, the vampire's own orange eyes seemed to glimmer with malice not directed toward him, and she nodded. "I would like that very much, please."

Jesse Fforde: had almost been kidding. At least, on the surface, Jesse tried to make himself believe he was kidding, that it was not something that he'd actually go through with. He half expected Paige to laugh and turn the conversation to silly-ness, like most people tended to do. As he again turns his steady, penetrating gaze to Paige, however, he realises that in the short meetings he's had with her, that she doesn't appear to be the sort to joke. Or to be silly. She is entirely serious. For a few beats Jesse just stares, still as a statue, as he weighs it in his mind. Just like his lust for sex, he realises that this is not something he's going to be able to resist. "Alright," he says, standing and sheathing his sword as he begins to make his way to the exit. He's not one to beat around the bush.

Paige: It was exactly like a compulsion for sex, and Paige followed him toward the exit. Could he walk on water like she could? Paige didn't ask. It might be better to go by sewer anyway, because they would be able to move around without being noticed very much. Like someone who just found out that someone else wanted to smoke weed, Paige was relieved that Jesse was okay with this. She "walked" after him by levitating a few millimeters from the ground and moving her legs. The older vampire seemed to already have an idea of where they were going.

Jesse Fforde: has only a vague idea about where they should go. It's not as if he has a map of all the known drug dens in the city, etched into his memory. But he knows the seedier parts of the city, and knows that's where they should head. Although he can, in fact, walk on water, he avoids that route. He's not dressed for the Canadian Winter, and he isn't going to go walking through the streets dressed as he is. Instead, he opts for the sewers, knowing the route from the QZ to the exit in Newborough. From there, they can wander into Stag Heath - and surely they'll find something worth their while. Outside, he wrenches aside the manhole cover and waits for Paige to drop down into the sewers, before following suit.

Paige: Paige made no sound when she dropped down into the dark tunnel. When Jesse joined her, she levitated alongside him. She was not dressed for winter either, but was hiding her unitard underneath a light trenchcoat. It was her night off of work, though she was on call in case a particularly bad breech occured and she had to clean up a major mess. The vampire didn't bother speaking to Jesse while they headed to Newborough. The raven-haired fledgeling was accustomed to silence and rarely knew what to say aloud. In this case, she had been rewarded with acceptance for telling the truth about her urge to kill. Her family had a habit of forcing her to rethink the world around her. Even Axel was not so frightening anymore.

Jesse Fforde: does not think twice about the wholesale slaughter he is about to engage in and condone. It's not something that he does on a regular basis, and it's not something he had ever seriously thought about, until now. And, now, he begins to wonder why it had never occurred to him before. He has a fury that rarely abates; a fury that is fuelled by his own uncharacteristic self-loathing, the depressive, suicidal urges that have recently begun to roll throw him, like death knolls. He knows that death is imminent. He wonders whether he's so inclined to slaughter others because it somehow brings him closer to death. He quits psycho analyzing himself and instead carries on walking in silence, his jaw set. The silence doesn't bother him, it never had. He only perks a brow at the nifty little levitating trick that Paige seems to have; he had known about it. Hadn't seen it. He doesn't comment upon it. When he pushes open the manhole in Newborough, he is careful as he climbs out, first surveying the area to ascertain they would not be seen before holding out a hand to help Paige up out of the dankness.

Paige: Paige took his hand with a soft growl of... thanks? And slipped into the moonlight.  Her orange eyes seemed to glow before becoming more obscured, and she imitated the movements of someone walking instead of levitating once she was on the surface. She hadn't read his mind, but they had been thinking the same thing. Paige mistakened his raised eyebrow for an inquiry, and she told him very quietly. Her Russian accent was raspy. "When I was newly turned I would need to kill almost every night. Or I felt incomplete and angry. Now it comes and goes. But the anger is stronger. I have been trying to control it so I do not implicate myself."

Jesse Fforde: nods. The urge to kill has never really been a strong one for Jesse - he doesn't understand how those in Tytonidae would get impatient, as if their only cause in the faction was to kill rather than to uphold the masquerade. Even now the compulsion isn't in the killing itself, but in the satisfaction that it might bring. There are other factors at play. He licks his lips and clears his throat. His own voice, though not as raspy as Paige's, is still low and incomplete. "Sounds like my constant hunger," he says, an indication that he understands. Drawing deeper into shadow and murk, his eyes narrow as he begins to stealthily head in the general direction of Stag Heath. He hopes that they will find someone who they can follow; someone who will lead them to somewhere they can slaughter without mercy, where cops will be more inclined to seek other explanations other than 'rabid vampires'.

Paige: Paige had a few traits of her sire's, so it would not have surprised her if she had also inherited some traits from her sire's sire. "How do you control it," she demanded softly. Stag Heath was full of commercial buildings and derelict homes. There were many warehouses where street gangs could be hiding. She kept an ear out for loud music and shouting. They passed a locale where meth was cooking, and Paige paused to take in everything she could with her senses.

Jesse Fforde: stops when Paige does. He's remains silent, focusing on the location. He can smell the meth cooking, too - and he can hear voices. Not so much a party, but a gathering. A bunch of men - maybe a girl or two - getting high and playing video games. It seems perfect. He licks his lips. "I don't," he says. "I kill on a nightly basis. More than once, sometimes. I get rid of the bodies. The rest of the time... I got used to it," he says. He jerks a brow in the direction of the house, inquisitive.

Paige: She nodded, though she was puzzled. She had never had to clean up after Jesse for her job, at least she thought she didn't. On the job, Paige did recognize some vampires' handiwork if they had been careless, but she kept these things to herself and walked to the window at the promise of slaughter. "That is a meth house. The chemicals are explosive," she whispered. At the orphanage growing up there had been a girl with burn scars covering her body, because her parents' meth lab had exploded and she was the only survivor. "We can detonate after they are dead," she offered.

Jesse Fforde: smirks. Perfect. His approval shows only by his forward action; he strides toward the house, slipping down the side, ducking under low-hanging branches of overgrown trees. He is stealthy and quiet. The back door is open. Jesse slips inside. He does not reveal his sword. He doesn't want to. He wants pure, aggressive, bare-fisted violence. As Jesse steps into the main room, there are five men gathered. One standing behind the old couch, arms crossed over his chest. Two men on the couch. Two men on beanbags on the floor. There was a scantily clad woman draped over one of the men on the couch, and another slouched on an armchair. There might have been other people in the house, too - surely there must be. Someone was cooking the meth. But for now, their entertainment had been served. The man behind the couch turned to Jesse. His expression is startled, to begin with. And then angry, as his fists clench and his arms fall to his sides. "Who the **** are you?" he asks. Jesse's smirk only broadens. "Death," he said. Overly dramatic, maybe. But he didn't quite care.

Paige: Paige wanted to ask how he disposed of a body every night without detection, so she could learn from him, but the allure of the killing was too strong for both of them. Paige didn't even have to use uninvited guest to invade the home; the open door was an open invitation, and she walked into the open with her ancestor. The humans stared like the dull creatures they were. Drugged and sleepy, they looked even more empty headed than cows. In fact, calling them blood cows would have done actual cows a disservice at that point. Paige glanced back and forth between Jesse and the man who asked who he was. "Do you want to buy something?" one of the humans asked impatiently. Another one asked "Are you a cop?" she had open sores on her body, and looked much older than her actual age. In response, Paige bared her teeth, which became like the jaws of a lion and contorted her face monstrously. Her eyes took on a startling roundess but remained orange as they took the form of a beast. Paige hissed at them. Would they run or fight?

Jesse Fforde: takes a single step forward. All the eyes of those in the room are suddenly and fearfully turned to the woman at his side; Jesse turns to witness Paige in her full glory. He himself manages a perk of the brow, but he hasn't got long to admire the transformation. The sound of guns being drawn alerted Jesse to the reason they were there - to slaughter. A gun fired. Jesse skilfully dodged the bullet, before dropping and rolling toward the guy who'd first questioned him. One of the women screamed. Jesse ignored her as he twisted the gun out of the thug's hand, snapping the fragile bones in his wrist. The gun thudded to the floor. Jesse's opposite hand clawed the guy's throat, curling around it, cutting of his air supply. His feet dangled off the ground as Jesse lifted him, and then threw him into a class cabinet. He followed the fallen body, delivering a swift kick to the guy's chin. Blood spurted from his mouth as he bit his tongue near in half. The scent of it filled the air, and fuelled Jesse's rage, and his blood lust.

Paige: Paige shuddered when the woman screamed. She jumped straight for her and propelled her whole body horizontally toward her like a torpedo. She could hear gunshots and cracking, then sounds of muffled desperation and choking. Paige tackled the horrified woman and pinned her to the ground. She didn't even have to kill her for her to scream. The vampire licked her from cheek to earlobe, then opened her jaws wide-- only to be whacked by a fold-out chair. Growling, she turned and gazed at the man who had struck her and interrupted her fun. His mate was paralyzed with fear and could be dealt with later. Paige grabbed him by the ankle, flipped him onto his back and straddled his hips. She started to punch him in the face again and again, until pieces of him were coming off on her knuckles.

Jesse Fforde: found pleasure in the scream that burst from the man on the floor; Jesse pushed him deeper into the broken glass and wood, sure that the shards were piercing his back and arms and thighs. The scent of blood was heady and distinct, but the man was down, for the moment. There were still too many outliers in the room, too many who could escape. They all needed to be incapacitated, before focus could be lost. One of the women cowered near Paige, and the other had clumsily clambered off the couch and was running, awkwardly in her high heels, toward the door. Jesse strode after her. He wound a tattooed arm around her waist, and held her close. He grasped her greasy hair and wrenched her head to the side, sinking fangs into the flesh, tearing at the wound to make her bleed faster, to suck from her the life-giving force. No, this was nothing like his sessions with Grey. The woman felt this. Jesse covered her mouth to muffled the scream, only grunted as she tried to stamp his instep. He spread his legs wider so that her struggles were in vain. When he dropped her, she was twitching - he had not drained her dry, but the blood poured mercilessly from the gaping wound in her neck, so that soon, she would bleed out anyway.

Paige: Paige stood, lapping blood and bone off of her knuckles as she looked for the other two men. One was huddled and rocking on his heels, talking to himself and likely having a very bad trip, and the other looked up at her like she was a monster as he whimpered and tried to unlock his cellphone. He had been doing so for the past thirty seconds and was trembling too hard to move or think correctly. Paige circled him slowly. When he finally unlocked his cellphone, the tumbler kicked it into the wall and watched it shatter. She watched the hope in his eyes die and give way to the fear of a cornered rabbit, then picked him up by his hair and unhinged her jaw. The undead contortionist showed him the mangled inside of her throat before chomping her lion jaws down around his entire face, crunching and slurping with noisy growls. She was only vaguely aware of Jesse's actions, but the sounds he forced the humans to make were delightful.

[Jesse Fforde]

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


Jesse Fforde: spared a glance in Paige's direction. Whatever she was doing, she was like a monster out of a horror film, and yet showed none of the signs of bad make-up and worse special effects. She was utterly glorious, in all the gore, and Jesse couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit proud, and perhaps a little regretful that she was Axel's progeny and not his own. Regardless, she was still connected to him. And this was cause for pride. On his way toward the cowering man, Jesse retrieved a pronged rod from beside the fireplace. With one swift movement he pulled the guy up by the collar and threw him against the wall; like some kind of fiery Zeus, Jesse thrust the spear-like instrument into the human's shoulder. Superior strength had the prongs pushing through muscle and grid to attach the human to the wall. A strangle scream began in the man's throat but didn't have the opportunity to reach a climax. Jesse pulsed forward, wrenching the guy's jaw apart to reach inside, to forcefully tear his tongue from his throat, in the process forcing the human to resort to pitiful sobs rather than screams. Gurgling, wet sobs.

Paige: Paige released her human, who had passed out from agony. She stomped on his head and crushed it like a melon, then watched Jesse. She had never seen a man's tongue taken out before. "I wonder how long it will take him to drown in his own blood, Jesse," she whispered. As if she had heard Paige, the last remaining female sobbed loudly on the floor. That got her attention, and the orange-eyed vampire picked up a crack pipe and stepped over to the woman. Her sobs became stifled pleas to stop, then whimpers and moans of pain. When the glass pipe broke, the human started squealing like a pig, and Paige strangled her so she would sound stupid as she died. "Gurgle all you want, blood cow," she whispered.

Jesse Fforde: heard Paige but did not turn to look at her. Instead, he watched the man pinned against the wall with avid interest, pondering the query that had been posed. Just how long would it take for him to drown in his own blood? And that would be such a waste. Without hesitation Jesse leaned forward and closed his mouth over that of his prey. There was nothing intimate in it. The man was food, and blood was pooling in his mouth. This was the best way to get it out. Jesse's tongue probed the interior of the man's mouth, lapping at the blood - it didn't taste very good. Compared to the blood that Jesse liked best - Grey's - this addict's blood was detestable. Week-old leftovers. Growing mould. His face screwed up in disgust as he spat the blood out, as he ignored the man's feeble attempts to save face, to push Jesse away. Jesse was not ashamed. He knew what he was, and he had his own kind of inner confidence, even if it wavered every now and again. He had no shame. He left the guy there to drown in his own blood. It wasn't a waste, if the blood wasn't any good. In his distraction, Jesse hadn't realised that the first guy had got back up, and had retrieved his weapon. Searing pain shot through Jesse's chest directly after the sharp 'boom' of the gun firing. A husky, animalistic growl

Jesse Fforde: || followed Jesse's grunt of surprise. He turned ice-cold eyes upon the man, hissed, and launched himself at him. Jesse used the couch as leverage. One hand balanced on the back of it, his bent elbow holding his weight as he vaulted over it. Ribs cracked as Jesse's feet connected with the guy's chest. When he landed on the ground Jesse fell on top of him; all his rage came to the fore as he collected a piece of glass from the floor and started to slash. He slashed at face and neck and chest and raised arms. He stabbed out the guy's eyes. Bright blood coated Jesse's tank, and his tattooed skin.

Paige: Paige sat on the couch beside the bleeding and dead female. She propped her up and posed her as if she were a doll while Jesse dealt with the gunslinger. Though it seemed like the other vampire was ignoring the noises, she was actually absorbed in them, and once she was finished posing that human she did watch. There was a lot of screaming, of course. The human's face was mangled.Jesse had blood on his mouth and Paige stared, openly admiring the monster that had lashed out from within Jesse's soft spoken exterior. She never would have guessed that her grandsire released his frustrations this way, and felt more at home than ever.

Jesse Fforde: didn't stop until the body was inanimate beneath him. It was no fun when they didn't struggle. Jesse licked his lips, cringing again at the taste of the bad blood coating his mouth, clung to his tongue, slid down the back of his throat. It did nothing to satiate the thirst, which only made him angrier. He finally stood, dropping the pieces of glass. There was a door just beyond the living room through which bled the scent of cooking meth. No one had emerged from that room - Jesse hoped there was no other exit. His ears pricked - he heard movement down there. He turned to page with a barely-there smirk, before approaching the door, opening it, and swiftly moving down the stairs.

Paige: Paige followed again, wondering to herself if he was alright. Did she look that angry? She had not seen herself in a mirror for a long time, nor did she really contemplate her actions when in the act of hunting and killing. She would ask when they were out of trouble. "The house will go down like a matchbook," she assured him as they got to the lab. There was a male there tending to the meth and making sure everything was the right temperature. If he didn't pay attention, the house would blow up at any moment. Smirking, Paige stepped up to him. "Who-" the human trailed off when he saw that she had bright orange eyes that had no whites, and foaming lion jaws which stretched her face inhumanly. "Good evening," Paige growled. He backed away from her and bumped right into Jesse.

Jesse Fforde: smirked inhumanly as the cook backed into him. Jesse hadn't thought about it, but now was the opportunity for a little team work. Jesse wrangled one of the man's hands behind his back, clenching it at such an angle that, should he try to struggle, the cook would only bring his arm closer to breaking point. He started to mutter and plead, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Jesse tsked at the pitiful excuse of a man, and turned his penetrating gaze upon Paige. "What do you think we should do with him?" he asked.

Paige: Paige was honored that he had asked her first, and so she actually did give this some thought and pushed her carnal impulses into the back of her mind. It was easier to do after killing had sated her. She ran a hand through her raven hair as she thought about it. "Hm. Good question," she whispered and began levitating back and forth in thought. "This can't be real, this can't be happening," mumbled the cook. Paige paused and tilted her head down at him, smirking. "Would you like me to pinch you?"

Jesse Fforde: was patient. He'd already seen this girl in action and he wanted to see a little more. Some of his rage had abated after the slaughter upstairs, and he was willing to wait and watch what Paige would do first. Jesse took a sick pleasure in watching other people suffer. It aroused him, to watch other vampires cause that suffering - to watch them feed. He held his ground, eyes glittering. "I think he thinks he's having a particularly bad hallucination. I think you had better remind him that he's standing in the real world," Jesse encouraged.

Paige: Nodding, she stepped close and rubbed the front of the trembling human's pants. "Do you feel that, telling you that you are alive, filling you with blood?" she asked him. The human was too frightened to be aroused, so he just stared at the monstrous, razor-toothed female. She squeezed him painfully until he screamed. "He yelps like a dog," Paige grumbled in annoyance and let him go so he could back up againt Jesse. As if Jesse was going to save him. She could see the knowledge that this was real painting itself on the human's pained face.

Jesse Fforde: nodded in agreement. "He does. I really prefer cats. Don't you?" he asked Paige. It was a rhetorical question, no matter how true it might have been on Jesse's behalf. "He yelps like a *****," he said. "Maybe he deserves to be neutered. There's no point in keeping those male parts if he's not going to use them, right?" he asked quite seriously, leaning forward as if he were including the male in the conversation. He continued to hold the man in place; he'd begun to whimper. "Would you like to do the honours, Paige? Though I'm not sure it's much of an honour. It's probably quite disgusting down there..." he said, rather more chatty with his victim than usual.

Paige: The human immediately began blubbering and pleading. Paige became serious for a moment. This was something she enjoyed doing to her victims, male and female, while she was killing them. Normally she kept it to herself. Nobody else had to know. But Jesse had suggested it, and it felt so natural that it was as though he had an understanding of her. "Of course, sir," she whispered and reached down the human's fear-soiled pants. Her free hand clutched his hair, and she moved the human's neck into better view for her grandsire, wrenching it painfully and twisting it. She performed a similar gesture inside the front of the human's pants, and he got pale and started screaming. The cries were deafening, she would remember them fondly for quite some time after this.There was a noisy ripping sound, then Paige tossed some mangled bits of the human aside before licking her hand like a lioness nursing her paw. She met Jesse's eyes as her own gave a mischevious twinkle.

Jesse Fforde: should have cringed, by all rights. He should have imagined what it might have felt like, to have one's own testicles ripped out. Instead, he grinned, thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. Paige was indeed a gruesome sight to behold, and Jesse couldn't tear his eyes away from her. And anyway, he'd never submitted to the general consensus on what should and should not be considered beautiful. In Jesse's opinion, nature was beautiful. When a fox gets run over and dies on the side of the road, when it is overwhelmed with flies and maggots, it's rotting fleshing causing a toothy grin, that is beautiful. In the same way, so is this entire scene. It is beautiful in its darkness. In the human's agony, he'd struggled just a little too much - his arm was limp now, in Jesse's grasp. The guy's screams had muffled the crack of bone. The entire body was growing limp, now. "Oh dear. I think he'd had enough," he said. He let go and the body fell to the floor. Passed out from the pain and shock. "Well that's disappointing," Jesse said, referring to the human's lack of fight. When his eyes returned to Paige, however, he winked. "You aren't, though," he said.

Paige: Paige was not used to being told those kinds of things. It was not that other people called her ugly, or disappointing. She had grown up in an orphanage without that kind of attention. And when she was adopted by a paladin of the order, her eyes were considered a sinful mutation of some kind. She had grown up accepting and believing that she was ugly, not out of shame or sadness, but out of necessity. "Thank you," she whispered to Jesse as she watched the human getting paler and more still. He was losing a lot of blood. He would be close enough to the explosion that he was about to lose many more pieces of himself than that. "We should go outside," she whispered after fiddling with the burners. "This chemical has been filling the house with fumes. That is why it smells like cat piss. When this one gets too hot it will crack. Then the fumes will ignite and everything will be swallowed." After that brief explanation she made her way back upstairs. Her suit was stained with blood. The humans were cold and still. Their blood had coagulated on the carpet and furniture. As she looked at the mess she had made with her sire's sire, she felt pride for the first time. It spread across her soul like moonlight on a glittering and stagnant pond.

Jesse Fforde: lingered for a moment there in the basement. Bright eyes watched as Paige disappeared up the stairs. Standing there alone, bar the body at his feet, again Jesse's muscles flexed. His jaw clenched. His eyes wandered to the burners. What would happen if he stood right there, and caught the brunt of the explosion? Would it be enough to kill him, to send him to that Shadowy place forever? The thought that it might not was the one that had him moving. He'd prefer to be dead, than burnt and broken for however long it might take him to heal, in agony the entire time. He, too, admired their handiwork as he followed Paige outside. The crisp air greeted them, nudging away the scent of cat piss, as she had so aptly pointed out, and blood. Blood was drying on Jesse's skin, flaking away when he grinned. He found a spot across the road, beneath a copse of trees, heavily veiled in shadow. "Do you mind if we stop to watch?" he asked. He'd grown incredibly fond of flames, lately - reason told him that they should get the hell out of dodge, but he really wanted to watch.

Paige: nodded mutely and sat beside Jesse. She studied him more than the flames, because one of his neck veins was popping out and his fists were clenched, although briefly. Gazing at the ticking time bomb of a drug den seemed to soothe him. Paige remembered, there was something she had been meaning to ask him, and while they waited for things to errupt she whispered "You do this every night without getting caught? How?"

Jesse Fforde: sat unmoving, staring at the house, imagining it as his own, almost wishing that someone had come along and slaughtered his family, bunch of meaningless fucktards that they were. Except his family had never lived in a house like this. They'd live in a dingy old apartment, several stories high, from which a young boy would die if thrown from the roof. Why was he dwelling on these things? He tried not to. Tried to relax the fists he didn't know he was still clenching. Just after Paige's question was uttered, there was a near imperceptible rumble through the ground, instantaneously joined by a low boom. Glass shattered as basement windows exploded. From here, the flames could not yet be seen. But soon enough they would be. He gestured toward the house to answer Paige's question. "Fire, mostly."

Paige: Paige put her hand on his and squeezed. If he didn't stop that, he was going to break his own skin, she thought. The gesture was brief and she returned her hands to her lap. Already a few neighbors were coming out of their houses to see what the thunderous sound was. There was a collective scream, and Paige and Jesse became illuminated for a moment as flames burst out into the night, swallowing everything, then died down to feast on the house once it found no fuel in the sky. The explosion was a physical manifestation of the inner satisfaction that ignited within Paige after she had desecrated those humans. The climax of her gratification had been secret, but Jesse's explosion was displayed for the neighbors to scream about. Already there were sirens. Warmth akin to life radiated against their faces even across the street. Nobody noticed the vampire and its grandsire hunkering there and watching.

Jesse Fforde: turned sharply as Paige's cold hand squeezed his. His eyes might have been daggers, the muscles in his jaw rolling as his teeth ground together. Not now, not here. He would take no one's sympathy. Did not need it, did not deserve it. And he had hoped that Paige was different from the rest of them. That he wouldn't get it from her. The hand was removed as quickly as it was placed, and Jesse chose to forget - so long as she did not ask, he'd pretend she never touched him. The heat of the fire bathed his skin, the explosion a perfect climax to the evening. Finally, watching those flames lick and devour, watching them crackle and burn, he could relax. Could smile, even, as hell was reflected in his eyes.

Paige: Paige returned his scowl, but then returned his smile as well.The animalistic girl was always prepared to return what was given to her, except in the case of her sire, who she could never injure or growl at without swift punishment. Of course, she had not touched him out of sympathy. She had no idea about the memories rolling through his head and overwhelming him. He had merely been lost, and her touch brought him back before the explosion carried them both to the same mental place. Paige felt gratified. She remembered how she and Sakura had felt after their first dinner outside the orphanage. Adopted, clothed and freshly cleaned, stomachs full, surrounded by warmth. It was a similar feeling to what Paige knew in that moment, and the satisfaction of it glittered in her eyes like an orgasm as she returned the smile. The amber jewels looked away again. They began to turn to normal, and her teeth started to retract painfully.

Jesse Fforde: remained where he was for quite a while, next to Paige, glorying in the mess that they had made - or, alternately, the one that was now being thoroughly cleaned up. It was only as they were bathed not in the warm orange hue, but in the red and blue of the flashing sirens that he finally stood, and backed up. It was about time that they left, in case they were noticed. In case they were remembered. A ghost of a smile played upon his lips. Sure, the hunger was still there, but the frustration and anger that normally fuelled it had abated, for the moment, and thus the hunger had lessened, was more of an irritating itch than a burning desire. "Shall we?" he asked. "Larch is not too far from here," he said, referring to the house he had bought for the 'family', but which was depressingly empty, most of the time. He had some paper, there. And some pencils. He planned to go and get cleaned up, and spend the rest of the night - and his restless day - sketching. He wanted, somehow, to attempt to capture Paige in all her glory.

Paige: She was silent at first, dizzy from the pain of her lion's jaws retracting and being replaced with her nomal teeth and pair of glistening fangs. When Jesse spoke to her, she watched him through a thin veil of pain, and nodded gratefully. She had forgotten about Larch, but it would be a convenient spot to roost when she was not busy slaying footsoldiers. She mimicked walking movements again as they made their way to the family home. She did not know how to communicate it to him, but she felt quite content. She would go to Larch and lay in a beanbag chair while reliving the night again and again, until the sun rose and the scent of smoke and fear abated from her trenchcoat.