Path of the Vampire forum

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

<Jesse Fforde> There are still things in this life that Jesse’s coming to terms with. Knowing that there are people around him to whom he can go for help is one of them.

Cosette doesn’t seem to be getting any better, and though Jesse can feel the forging of the bond between them growing stronger each night, it’s still a tenuous thing. As if it could fizzle and snap at any moment. The only thing he could think of was to continue to feed her his blood, in the hope that it would make her stronger. But what if there’s something more that he should be doing?

Rather than go to Velveteen or MIcah this time - because he goes to them too often, and surely they have their own **** to deal with without having to help him through all of his ****, too - he can think of one other person who might have a clue. Jesse paces from the room where Cosette is bundled up, and retrieves his phone from his pocket. He flicks through the numbers until he finds the one he needs. It’s not urgent - not entirely - so a text will suffice.

I have a problem. Can we meet?

He sends the text to Doc, and keeps hold of his phone as he wanders into the kitchen. He is in constant need of a refill, given the amount of blood he has been giving away.


Doc: Having just finished night rounds, Doc made his way back to the office. Having taken a seat at the desk and gotten comfortable, he noticed that the light was blinking on his cell. He picked up and swiped the screen. Reading the text, he replied immediately.

*text* When and where?

He hit send and stood up. He closed the laptop and moved it to the filing cabinet where he locked it up securely. As much as he wanted to trust the nuns, he wasn’t ready to leave things in the open, no matter how much he trusted them. Pulling his Sig from another drawer, he double checked the magazine, and after snapping it back into the gun, he slid it into the holster hidden by his suit jacket. Grabbing a couple of extra magazines, he slid them into the strap.

Jesse was capable, if he needed Doc’s help it was probably not something either of them had come across yet. So Doc did not want to leave things to chance. Better to be prepared for multiple circumstances.


<Jesse Fforde> The reply comes, and Jesse swipes the screen to reply:

Corner Cafe? Now?

It’s the closest place he can think of. They can at least sit and pretend to drink their coffee. He’s not too sure Cosette will want strangers traipsing through to look at her, though he is a Doctor. If he deems it necessary, Jesse will bring Doc home again. But the cafe is close, and Gresse’s isn’t finished yet--otherwise he’d have taken Doc there.

Jesse stands. He hasn’t left Larch Court since he’d brought Cosette home, and he’s loathe to do so now. But he knows Grey is around should anything happen, and he can feel that bond, like a rope tied around his soul. If anything should happen to it, he will know. He walks out to the front room, where he retrieves his own leather jacket from over the couch, and pulls his boots onto his feet.

Within five minutes he’s at the cafe in one of the booths, waiting for a cup of joe that he won’t drink.


Doc: Reading the text that came almost immediately, he replied.

*text* Ten minutes.

Doc’s brow furrowed, was Jesse already there? Hoping that Doc was at WinterbrooK? If so that made think him think the situation was more than a mere problem. He had left the office and almost ready to put the code into the keypad, when it dawned on him, what if it was medical? Better safe than sorry. He turned on his heel and went back to the office to collect his medical bag. He didn;t need to worry about checking supplies, the nuns were very thorough with that. Mainly because they expected him to do house calls on every poor waif they came across.

Bag in hand, Doc plugged the code in the keypad and he was out. It took a few scant minutes for him to stride through the corner cafe. Spotting Jesse easily, he wordlessly slid into the booth opposite him.


<Jesse Fforde> If Doc had been paying attention during the last few hunts--had Doc been there? Surely--he’d have noticed that Jesse hadn’t said much, and had smiled even less. Doc himself had already come across Jesse when he’d been in one of his states, watching a fire burn on the outskirts near the Eyrie. Now, however, Jesse offers Doc a small smile and an almost calm nod of his head, though anxiety rides beneath the surface.

Jesse is on a precipice. He’s holding his breath and waiting to either fall backwards into security and warmth, or forwards into a gaping abyss of nothingness. But there is that tenuous bond forming, so for the moment there is a steady, near-mad gleam to his eyes.

“I bit someone,” Jesse says. Ever to the point. “I bit her, by accident, and she came back to me the next night. Sick. Dying. Turning. That’s never happened to me before…” he says. But then, he does kill anything that he bites, so there’s never been an occasion where it could happen.

“I drained her again. I fed her my blood, properly. I expected it to work like it always does, and she’d be right as rain at least by the next night. But it’s been three nights, and she’s still not any better. I can feel the bond, but it’s … it’s weak. Have you heard of anything like this before?” Jesse asks. His voice is a mere whisper--he refuses to be overheard. But, with their preternatural hearing, he is certain that Doc will be able to hear him.

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

Doc: : As Jesse began, he frowned slightly, as the details were laid out in detailed order. There was no information he could offer. “No, I have not heard of this before.” His voice was also low. “Do you know her medical history? Could there be an underlying disease that is at the root of it? Hemopheliac? The body does build up a type of tolerance in some cases.”

However even as Doc said it, it was clear he was unconvinced. “Kidney disease?” He was sure that too was not the case, but it helped him if he went through the possibilities aloud at times. Especially if it was something he was unfamiliar with. “And you’re sure she was drained?” Again, it was said low and aloud, more for Doc than Jesse.

“It doesn’t make sense…” He rubbed his brow, still trying to make sense of the options. Completely drained would make her heart stop. Why wasn’t it not taking? “Maybe this person has .. more than the usual amount. You think she is drained.. and she isn’t? There are cases of people that do produce too much plazma. So much so, that they have routinely have to have a pint drained, else the blood gets sluggish and starts to clot. Perhaps that is what we are.. looking at..”


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse shakes his head. “I don’t know anything about her medical history. I know her name and where she works. I know how her brain works,” he says, his palms flat against the table top and the steam from the coffee rising, the scent teasing his nostrils.

“She was already turning before I drained her, Doc. It was just the bite that did it. I never intended to turn her…” he says, and his eyes widen. As if saying it out loud allows something to click. Sure, on the surface, he’d never intended to. But the urge was still there, wasn’t it? The desire. The addiction, and knowing that siring was the one thing that would fix him, and keep him from his pit of despair. Maybe his body had done what his brain had refused to do. He lifts a hand to press a thumb against the blunt tip of his canine, wondering, idly, if there’s now some poison in there. Some kind of… toxin that begins the change without Jesse’s explicit consent.

But he nods, in answer to the question.

“I am certain that I drained her, the first night, but I haven’t been doing it every night. She is… she’s in between. She’s feverish like she’s dying but she… feels like a vampire,” he says. There’s that sixth sense, isn’t there? They can tell when other people are vampires. “I don’t want to risk Necuratism if she’s halfway there. Even though I keep feeding her my own blood every night…” he says, and his expression constricts. What if he turns her into a Necurat, by accident? He’s in deep water, here, and all of a sudden has no idea how to swim.


Doc: “The one thing that I can say, if it is any consolation, is that we are so new at this.. that there could be a myriad of reasons why this is happening.. and we simply do not have the historical information to understand it all.” He felt like he needed to say this, so that Jesse understood, there were too variables to understand.

“Out of curiosity.. I have only turned three.. how many have you turned?”


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse nods, though he still would love to have some kind of answer. He glances sideways, at the very few people who are seated around them. There’s the waitress, shuffling around behind the counter and another couple on the other side of the cafe. Other people that could be turned, there’s potential… and Jesse realises then that maybe, maybe there aren’t any answers. Not yet. And more investigation might be needed in future, if it happens again. only then will he know if there’s something wrong with him, or something wrong with Cosette.

He turns back to Doc as he asks his question, and is silent with narrowed eyes as he counts in his head.

“Cosette makes eight. There was one more, but she died,” he says, thinking of Andromeda. He can’t even feel her in the Shadow Realm. She’s just gone, forever.


Doc: “Eight? **** me you are prolific… I thought three was egregiously ostentatious .. Eight?!” He looked askance at Jesse. “How the **** do you have time for all of them?!” He paused, “Don’t answer.. I shouldn’t have asked.” He sighed.

“However, .. would it be possible for me to see this girl? I don’t want to intrude; but as a Doctor.. in good conscious.. laugh if you want.. I have to ask. If there is something that I could have done, and didn’t.. it would be unforgivable.”


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse’s tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he is silent as he considers Doc. There is a reason, of course, for why Jesse has eight. He swallows, and shrugs. He doesn’t answer the question, as he was told not to answer. Fact is, he cares not just for his eight, but for their progeny, too. There are a few amongst his eight who aren’t so good at the sire thing and should be shot if they ever do it again.

“Tomorrow night?” he says. Maybe by the next night, she’ll be better. A little. Jesse would feed her some more blood, and he would see how it fared. He clears his throat. He should tell Doc his reasons--it might have some bearing on the why of it all.

“I sire because I have to. If I don’t, I go out of my way to get myself killed,” he says with another shrug. That’s the long and short of it.


Doc: Doc nodded. “Alright. I understand. Tell you what I will go back to my office, do some research see if I can find ‘current’ medical reasons why this must be happening. If I find out anything I will call you.” He paused, then added, “I am honestly more concerned about you than her. I know I may be sounding repetitive in saying this, but there is more we do NOT know than what we do. I am loath to want to see you self destruct.”

Doc slid to the edge of the booth. “I mean that. I’ve seen you be self destructive. It isn’t pretty. Should you feel the urge.. call me? I will do what I can.”

Doc stood. “I will leave my phone on just in case.” He turned and headed back to the Asylum.


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse says nothing as Doc leaves. He stares after the man’s retreating back; doubtful as to whether he should have said anything to begin with. Jesse is well aware of his own self-destructive behaviour. And he is well aware of what causes it. He is well aware that, at this moment, the self-destruction has taken a back seat. It’s lurking, near the edges of his psyche. It’s being held back by that weak, tenuous bond to Cosette. Either way, if that bond breaks or if it solidifies, there’s a pressure building and Jesse will fall.

He keeps it in mind, however. He’s not an idiot, and he’s not selfish. He can see the way his moods affect Grey, how he brings her down with him. For her, Jesse needs to seek help. His own methods clearly didn’t work. Soon, he pushes himself up and leaves a note on the table for his coffee. He wastes no time getting back to Larch Court, and back to Cosette.