Path of the Vampire forum

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
<Jesse Fforde> Five months. Give or take a few days, Jesse had calculated that it had been five months since Clover. Clover, whom he had not seen nor heard from for how long now? Regardless of text messages that he may have sent (and as he the frigid wind whips his skin, he does wonder - did I send those messages, or do I just think I did?) he had not heard from her. But, then, he had said some things which had caused her trouble that he had not intended, and she’d been cold toward him since then. On top of which, he isn’t sure she ever forgave him for doing what he did to her. Of course she would leave and never come back. He is a monster to her. An evil man. Something Jesse hadn’t really had a problem with being, until recently--it is a moral dilemma which had set this whole thing off, like a trigger on a ticking time bomb.

Jesse ought to keep himself inside. Where he had done so, a few weeks ago, he probably hadn’t needed to. Now, though? Now, he’s already no doubt nearly violated the tenets that he holds so dear by attacking that blood thief so close to the public street. What next?

Even now, he feels the want, the need, the utter desperation crawling beneath his skin. Blood. Taking blood, and giving blood. These are the things that dictate his life, now. Awake or asleep, the only thing he seems to be able to think about is blood, regardless of the things he’d done to try to distract himself. Gresse’s, for one - the new establishment that he and Grey had thrown themselves into, to try to make it fit for public. But, Jesse had thrown his invitation out to Andras to come say hello, to see the progress, and no one had come. No one.

His enthusiasm had waned. It had been a waste of money and a waste of time. A waste of space, just like he was.

These are the thoughts he knows are foreign. When had he ever thought himself to be a waste of space? Furious at himself for even thinking them, he takes himself away from others. Away from his family. Away from Grey, lest his tongue slip and some self-abusive rant spill from ravaged lungs, voice rasping from a throat so dry is may as well be lined with salt.

Although the first few times he’s gone to the museum he’d gone out of an idle curiosity to get to know Cosette a little better--to perhaps engage in one of their philosophical discussions--this time he’s going because he needs the quiet. He needs the wide open space and the gentle thrum. He needs to try to lose himself in something else. To forget that he himself even exists. He intends on trying to avoid the female. To slip past cloaked in shadows, to sit somewhere idle and alone, where no one will bother him. Hidden away from the world.

With the rain comes the last of Winter; the road is slick. Not frozen solid, and there’s no snow. But there’s sleet; slimy and wet. Jesse is moving far too fast, and he’d gotten ahead of himself. Assuming Winter was over, he’d removed the Winter tyres from his bike. There is no grip, as he comes careening around the corner--in a rush to find silence and calm and solitude. He feels as if his veins are burning up and he can’t decide whether he wants to go faster and … and what?

Maybe he’d changed the tyres on purpose, for this very night. Because deep down he knew he’d accelerate, rather than slow down. It won’t look like he did it on purpose, will it? It will look like an accident…

...the thoughts don’t stick. The decisions aren’t decisions, but mere whimsy. There’s a revved roar as the bike comes like a blur of black and red around the corner--there’s the decision to keep going, rather than to stop. But Jesse loses control. The wheels slide out from beneath him and though he tries to regain balance of the machine, gravity has the upper hand. A bone snaps--or maybe several--as Jesse’s leg is caught beneath the bike, and both he and the machine slide haphazardly across the slick road. There’s the blaring of a horn as a car’s headlights sweep over the collision-in-progress. The bike--and Jesse along with it--slams into a parked car on the opposite side of the road. The car that had swerved slams on its breaks and nudges into a street light, which sparks and sputters out.

Jesse lays amidst the crumpled mess of his bike. The first thing he realises is that he’s still alive. Of course he is. He has the body of a vampire, and it is resilient. A small crash such as this cannot kill him. Would not kill him. The second thing Jesse recognises is the pain, and he almost laughs. Almost. He can’t move his arm, his shoulder dislocated. And as he pushes and drags and throws himself away from the wreckage, he damages himself all the more.

The bone in his leg is definitely broken--if his jeans are torn away, one would see the bone protruding from the skin of his inked shin. Bright blood seeps in and mixes with the rain. The glass visor is cracked, though the helmet is no longer on Jesse’s head. Somewhere along the way, the thing had been torn from his head--probably irreparably broken as it had slammed into the asphalt when the bike and slipped onto its side. skin is torn away from Jesse’s temple, deep grazes that look worse than they are--they’ll no doubt heal in less than a night. The rest will heal in a day, maybe two, so long as he gets the bones set right.

As soon as he is slumped away from the broken vehicle, now having assessed the extent of his wounds, he does laugh. He laughs, though it is without mirth. And he continues to laugh. He cannot stop, even as the blood continues to leak from his body.

<Cosette> Class had run late. Again. Making her late for work. Again. Something Cosette absolutely hated, whether it was her fault or not. (And usually, it wasn’t.) That night, she was later than usual, her professor having kept her even longer after class to talk about an upcoming project and to praise her on her third curation at her internship. It was a nice reason to be kept after, sure, but it was just that internship that she would be missing altogether if she didn’t get her *** in gear. And so, she practically raced through the streets from the transit station, almost blindly heading toward the museum, firing off a few frantic texts as she went to alert her manager and the person currently on duty that she would be there as soon as possible. As Cosette practically sprinted in her high heels with dark auburn locks flying out behind her like a cape, narrowly avoiding slick spots and somehow managing to stay on her feet all the while, she found her mind quite blank. It was a typical reaction to panic, one might suppose, but nothing passing before her eyes was registering. Not quite, not even when she crossed streets, though somewhere in the back of her head she remembered to look both ways and wait for vehicles to pass.

In the end, it was probably a good thing, considering she wasn’t too good around blood to begin with.

No. It was the smell that caught up to her first, just before she rounded a corner. Smoke from a straining engine. Spilled gasoline across soaked pavement. And then there was the sound, finally. The eerie sort of silence that occurs just in the aftermath of a crash, which didn’t last for too long. People were already peering out of windows, or doors. One car passing the scene had already stopped. But suddenly, there was familiar-sounding laughter. Laughter? The sound was unsettling at best, and she couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine as her brow wrinkled in consternation. Unable to will herself to move faster as she assessed the situation, she slowed her steps and eventually came upon the scene of twisted bike and banged up car; who the hell laughed at a time like that?

Of course, mangled as he was, the answer to the question soon became clear enough.

“Jesse?” she called out, a frown gracing her lips as she moved closer, phone still in hand. A few more steps and she could see for sure that it was him and she at last sprang forward. “Jesse! Oh my god... what... ****... Hang on, I’ll call Emergency,” she exclaimed as she moved to kneel beside him, still somewhat repelled by his general presence, even if the clearly broken leg and blood pouring from various wounds hadn’t done it. She pulled a handful of clean tissues from her bag and reached out to mop his face clear of some of the blood, suddenly not caring about how much it freaked her out.

“****, ****, ****...” she breathed out as she hit the home button on her phone and pulled up the dialing screen.

<Jesse Fforde> Suddenly there’s a warm body at Jesse’s side, and the laughter dies as abruptly as it began. Pupils now large, round discs--those of a natural predator--Jesse’s nostrils flare. It is not his own blood that he can smell, but the blood of the woman kneeling beside him. He hauls himself up into a seated position, one numb and useless hand sitting in his lap.

This is wrong. Wrong on so many levels. Jesse’s in control enough to reach out and snatch the phone from Cosette, the no barely formed on his lips. Of course, he’s thinking about the Masquerade and the fact that medics are no good here. All he needs is some strong hands to push his bones back into place, and time to allow them to fuse back together. He cannot have any doctor discovering how quickly he heals.

Though, of course, Jesse isn’t in control of his urges enough beyond that. The blood leaks from his body at such a pace that of course, his instinct wants only to replace it. Before he even knows what he is doing, before he can manage to acknowledge the fact that there are eyes on them, from all around, Jesse reaches up and hooks his fingers behind Cosette’s neck. Not rough, but not gentle either. Urgent, more like. That unsatisfied addiction that’s part of the reason why he’d careened so recklessly around that corner, and it is now unbridled as his sharpened teeth sink into the tender skin of Cosette’s neck. Hot blood gushes over his tongue, and a rough grunted groan of release crawls in his throat.

Yes, blood. He needs to heal, his body tells him. And he needs more blood to do so.

<Cosette> “What do you mean, no?!” she exclaimed as he snatched her phone out of her hands. “Hey! Jesse, what the actual ****? You’re injured, you can’t just get up and walk it off,” she said, the surprisingly crude language spoken on an equally surprising angry growl. Cosette wasn’t typically an angry person, or even one to get intensely upset about something, but this was wrong. So wrong, in so many ways. His leg sat at an unnatural angle. He looked like he’d been chewed up and spit back out by something large and awful. Clearly, he wasn’t in his right mind. Maybe those scrapes were indicative of a more severe head injury...

Still, she reached for the phone again - a futile effort, she knew - and in doing so ended up almost draped over his lap. She made a noise of discontent through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed as she struggled to sit up and flag one of the onlookers slowly venturing closer. But that was a futile thing, too, because he had her in his shockingly strong grip before she could so much as protest.

But protest she did as he... as he ******* bit her, of all the things he could do. What the ****? She knew he was strange, different... but a sadistic sort of cannibal glutting himself on blood, she hadn’t foreseen. Cosette struggled against him, punching and pushing at his chest, one hand jamming hard into his broken leg in an effort to make him stop through the intensifying agony of it. No words would come, though, around the gasp that stuck in her throat, no more sound than a muffled groan of pain as her thoughts scrambled with every pull of blood siphoned from her body, and even the fight eventually left her limbs. No help came, either... she could see, even through the thickening haze, that people were turning tail and running scared at the sight before them, no longer able or willing to step in and assist.

He was stronger than her, frightfully strong, and it would only be a matter of time before he took too much. And then what? Would he leave her for dead? She couldn’t see any other outcome, and so, with a last shaking breath drawn, she let her eyes slip closed as she went limp in his hold, waiting for the darkness to take her.

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

<Jesse Fforde> It would have been so easy to finish her off, then and there. It’s habit, isn’t it? To drain the body dry and dispose of it afterwards. Lost in the heat of the blood, of the soothing thickness of it as it rolls over his tongue and coats the back of his throat, Jesse sinks steadfastly into the mindset of the predator. The body in his grasp is no longer Cosette, but is instead only prey. He would regret it, later. But he doesn’t know that now. Future regret plays no part in how he reacts now. The world has become blood. Blood is all he can taste and all he can smell. It is all he wants, and all that he cares about. The street and the car and the bike have all disappeared and Jesse’s wit and reason have fled the scene.

Until he hears the sound of sirens and a nearby shout; until the sound of gravel underneath a retreating boot hooks into his ear and he remembers where he is and realises what he is doing. And to who. Though the who shouldn’t matter so much in the grand scheme of things. Here he is, member of Tytonidae, severely breaking Masquerade. That is his first thought, as he hears that boot grind into asphalt; that is the singular thought that has him hastily pulling back and pushing the deliciously warm body away from him.

His head spins as he lets Cosette go. As if he is urging her to get as far away from him as possible, lest he lose control again. But he has to think on his feet. And quickly. He cannot get anywhere safely as he is and though he’s probably just shattered any friendship that might have formed between himself and the curator, he reaches out to gently grab her arm.

“...I’m sorry,” he breathes, his head bowed as he does his best to wipe any stray drops of blood from his lips. The wound that he had made upon her neck is already healing--will she herself pass out, and is this futile anyway? He’s already bitten someone in the middle of the street. Surely grabbing his tome and disappearing completely couldn’t make things too much worse. But he can’t just leave.

“... I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t… I need your help. Can you stand? Can you help me?” he asks, his head still bowed even as he looks up at Cosette. “I can explain but I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t…” he says, his tone hasty and urgent.

<Cosette> Somewhere, somewhere seemingly far away, he was talking. To her, at her, what difference did it make? A tremble ran down the length of her spine before her eyes peeled open, suddenly realizing he’d stopped whatever ghastly attack he’d been making against her. A hand, numbed and dull as her sense of touch was, moved to brush over her neck, feeling for the wounds that were somehow knitting themselves back together already. She gasped again, this time her gaze coming back into focus as she slid back quickly away from him, even as she realized his hold on her arm.

She cast a thunderous look down at his grip on her before her gaze moved back to meet his, the words finally registering in her head as her eyes narrowed. “You’re sorry?!” she gasped out, voice thick and struggling as she gaped at him. “You can explain? Explain what, exactly? Why you don’t want a hospital when your leg is hanging on by a thread, or why you thought biting me and drinking my ******* blood was a good idea?” She heaved a ragged breath. “What do you think you are, some kind of Twilight wannabe?” Her fingers finally closed around her neck where he’d bitten, the dull ache remaining in almost an echoing throb after her words evoked the recent memory once more. A fresh shiver ran down her spine as she shook her head at him, an almost sickeningly sweet look taking over her features. Unable to help herself as the dizziness slowly dissipated, her tone took on a level of sarcasm that rarely came out to play.

“Oh but of course,” she said, annoyed and more than a little pissed off that she’d been harmed when she’d already tried to do just that. “Just how can I help Mr. Fforde? Please, do give me a better idea that won’t lead to you attacking me,” she snarled out before hefting another sigh, letting the anger clear slightly as she stood, shakily, and finally relented. The sirens were getting closer and he was clearly wary of whatever else might be coming... despite what he’d done, and that whatever might be coming would serve him right, she decided she couldn’t simply leave him in the state he was in. She just wasn’t that kind of person, no matter that she was beyond pissed, scared, and more than a little freaked out, too, to boot.

“Fine. Tell me how I can help. But after that... just... just stay away, Jesse. Please.”


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse laughs, bitter and near-deranged. He is not comfortable. Not really. Pain fluctuates through his body with every twitch; of course instinct has his body fighting against the pain but some deeper darkness enjoys it, and would prefer that those ambulances come around the corner not with the intention of saving him, but instead with the intention of finishing him off. For one brief second he imagines those tires rolling over him, every bone in his body crunching beneath the weight of the vehicle. His mouth almost waters at the thought of it -- the volley of physical punishment that would crescendo, and climax in death.

Beyond that brief glimpse of suicidal idiocy, he can still taste Cosette’s blood. It coats his teeth and has seeped into the cracks of his lips. It pools beneath his tongue and his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows and holds on to that groan of satisfaction--one that could no doubt be mistaken for a reaction to the stabbing pain that his body is now enduring.

And beyond that, he has a pissed off human accusing him of being a Sparkle wannabe even though she has the healing wounds as proof beneath her roving fingertips. Maybe it’ll sink in later, that he’s not quite insane. And maybe he won’t explain a thing. Let her believe he’s some nut job. All the better. He does not even think of killing her. Not right there, not then. Not in front of witnesses. It doesn’t cross his mind just yet that he doesn’t want to. There’s that voice saying later, though of course it’s not talking about killing. It’s talking about something else entirely, and Jesse’s not too sure how much he can take. The sheer number of distractions have him wanting to just crawl away on his own, but he knows he won’t get very far.

Of course he doesn’t promise Cosette that she won’t see him again. The request doesn’t even sting, because deep down he knows he’s not going to honour it.

“Help me up,” he says. “Over there. There’s a copse of trees and bus shelter. Help me get out of sight,” he says. He doesn’t have to tell every other damned human to stay away. They all seem to be doing that of their own accord--as they always do. Except Cosette, of course. For some reason, she had never run from him. Tonight, she had run to him--and neither of them, yet, could fully realise the consequences.

<Cosette> She wasn’t about to lie; not even close, but the truth was, Cosette wasn’t entirely sure she could even get herself to the trees, or the bus shelter, let alone drag the much taller, heavier male sitting broken before her. Her knees felt like they were about to give out at any moment, but with a dark laugh that even she didn’t think she’d been capable of before, she managed to lock the joints and hold out both hands to help heave him up. For a reason she couldn’t begin to fathom, the creeping sensation had completely gone away, even though she should have been even more repelled by Jesse by now than ever.

She gave a good strong tug on his hands, hauling him to his one good leg though she hoped he’d knock the other around a little bit to at least remind him of his injuries and what he’d done to her. But even beyond the injuries he’d inflicted upon her, it was unsettling how little he seemed to be registering in terms of his own, in terms of the pain he should, by rights, be feeling keenly. A brow furrowed slightly both with the effort and with the confusion winding through her head. But finally, as quickly as she could, she managed to get them to the cover the trees provided before the ambulances arrived.

Cosette sat for a long moment in silence, panting for air as she leaned against the trunk of a large oak and stared at the male for what seemed a very long time. Finally, she broke the silence with a slight tilt to her head, the look on her face anything but pleasant or kind.

“There. I’ve helped you. Now please give me back my phone. I need to go.” She didn’t need to add that the small device held her entire life within and if she had any hope of salvaging her internship, there were several calls she needed to make. Later it might strike her as odd that this is where her immediate concerns lay, but soon enough she’d be thinking straight enough to get to the hospital, if only for bloodwork and a tetanus shot.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse feels his head spin as soon as he’s lifted from the ground. All his weight upon one foot. He has to use Cosette pretty extensively as a crutch; he phone is held tightly in his good hand, which winds around her shoulders, and his other arm hangs loose. The pain is there, but he’s had worse. When he launched himself from the Eyrie while sleeping and shattered near every bone in his body--that had hurt.

Though he’s not comparing this pain to that one. He’s focusing only on the next ten seconds… and then the ten seconds after that. To get to that shelter, to get out of sight. He knew something had to be done with Cosette, and now that she is out of sight, too, maybe he should do it right there. But with one leg and one arm out of service, he’s not sure he can manage much.

Besides which--the ambulances have arrived and there’s a witness pointing in their general direction. Jesse can see them through the foliage. A man and a woman start toward them, and Jesse tosses Cosette’s phone to her. With his back against the bus shelter, Jesse reaches into his coat and pulls from it the tome that will take him back to the Eyrie.

“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Lemaire,” he says. She had asked him to stay away. But…

“I’m sure you’ll want an explanation,” he says. He might have winked, if he were in his ordinary state of mind, but he’s not. Nowhere near his own state of mind. He should not be leaving. This is one clusterfuck he’s going to have to clean up but he can’t do it right now. Not like this. Not when they’re about to be questioned. He needs to get away from the crowd and figure this out later.

With one glance down at the tome and a few hushed whispers, Jesse disappears. The last thing that Cosette might see, if she’s paying attention, is Jesse’s expression; not evil, or composed of ill-intent. But twisted in anxious pain. No, what Cosette might see there, written in the etchings of Jesse’s pale features, is a rare glimpse of fear.

<Cosette> The redhead caught the requested phone with anger furrowing her brow, refreshed by his veiled refusal. “No, Jesse. You’d better not see me soon, because next time, I will call the cops. Or scream. Or whatever the hell I need to do to make my point clear. Nothing you have to say is going to make a difference.” Her teeth were clenched by now, the fire in her gaze fading into something cold, harsh, and flat as she spun on her heel, somehow still intact, and stalked off toward the transit.

Just before she walked away for good, she turned to say something else, another angry phrase dancing on the tip of her tongue. But she blinked once, twice, three times as she watched him disappear into thin air. Thin. Air.

And that was enough for Cosette. She flung her bag to the ground with a frustrated shriek, looking all around her, though she was still alone - for the time being. “What the ever-loving ****?!”

He was right. She wanted answers, but she definitely didn’t want them from him. With a growl of extreme displeasure, she calmed herself enough to pick the bag back up and willed herself to walk back to the transit. She absolutely needed the hospital by now, and to think up some excuse as to why she wouldn’t be making it into work that evening.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
<Jesse Fforde> The first thing Jesse does as he lands in the Eyrie is to slump against the wall to set his own bones. Every had done this for him, once. There is a proper way to set one’s own bones, but Jesse is careless, in a way. He feels giddy. He feels… fear. Trepidation. Shame. This has got to be the last straw. He knows this. There’s nothing else he can do, he realises, but find Cosette and turn her. It’s not the way he really wanted to go about it, but there it is. Here it is. He’s broken the Masquerade in no small way and now, he must do what he can to rectify the situation. He focuses his magical energy on the broken leg, healing it.

He remains slumped against that wall for hours, until he feels able enough to stand and make his way toward the elevator--up, up and to the small shop where he consumes his own weight in blood. From there, he takes the elevator again, up to his hut, where he takes the portal back to Larch Court. Where he seeks his lover, his confidante. Where he falls into her arms and tells her everything that he’s done, and everything that he must do.

Cosette’s threat still rings loud and sound in Jesse’s ears and he is smart enough not to walk into the museum. Shrouded in shadows outside, he waits. Minutes, hours, whatever it takes. If Cosette is in there, working, he will wait until she finishes. He will follow her, until she is home. He will follow her inside. Failing that, he will wait until they are somewhere quiet, where he can pull her aside and…

Well. Talking might be out of the question, though he’ll want to warn her. It disappoints him, that it has happened this way. Again, he mentally slaps himself. She’s angry. She’ll always be angry. This is not the way to form a cohesive bond or add a positive brick to family Fforde. But this is what must happen.

<Cosette> Fever. Sluggishness. Aches. Headache. Cosette was fortunate enough to be experiencing many of the mild side effects of the tetanus booster she’d all but demanded from the emergency room staff the night before. To strange looks and many questions, of course, because, panicked and upset, she’d explained she’d been mugged and bitten by a strange man. But covered in blood and dirt as she was, the nurses and doctors couldn’t find more than a small scratch or two to mar her smooth skin.

Now, hours later, after blood draws and a clean bill of health, after a stiff drink or two and some sleep, she had managed to get through class. The museum had even been nice enough to let her come in earlier to make up her missed shift, once her manager knew she’d been attacked and not simply skipping out on work. And so, there she was, a quiet presence behind the front desk, doing her best to power through the rest of the day. Exhaustion gripped at her limbs and for perhaps the first time in a long, long time, Cosette was counting the minutes until she got to leave. With a sigh, she checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Two hours to go and counting.

She let her head fall into her clammy hands with a soft groan, trying to will the increasingly bad headache and dizziness away, and must have been sitting just that way for some time because, before she knew it, a familiar voice filled her ear, laced with concern:

“Cosette? Are you alright?”

It was Adam, all playful cheer and teasing formality gone from his tone. She lifted her head, certain she looked miserable if not downright haggard, and gave it a shake as - to her great dismay - tears filled her eyes.

“No,” she said, trying hard to keep the tears at bay and her voice from cracking. “I’m sure its nothing, though... just a reaction...”

But Adam’s expression was a match to his voice as his eyes widened slightly. “Cosette, you’re not lookin so good... I mean that in the nicest way, but I think you need to go home or, better still, go see a doctor, kid.”

She dashed her fingers under her eyes to swipe away the tears before they fell, but a gasp left her lips when they came away streaked with red. “****... what is that?” she whispered, panic starting to wrap around her heart. “Yeah... yeah, maybe you’re right, Adam,” she said a little louder before she moved to lift her things from the closet.

“Tell me you’re gonna take a taxi, at least?” he added as she jotted down a note and sent off a quick text before locking up a few things.

She shook her head, gingerly, before heading for the door. “No, I’ll be fine. The transit will get me home... thanks, Adam. I’ll hopefully be back in tomorrow.”

“Let me at least walk you to the outer gate,” he said, hurrying to catch up to her and motioning for the other guard to keep an eye on things. Relieved when Cosette nodded her approval, he gently gripped her arm and guided her out. “I wish I could walk you to the station, but my hands are kinda tied on that...”

“I’ll be okay. Swear,” she said with a smile that she just didn’t feel. The air was starting to feel too hot, too close by then. Sweat was beading on her brow, prickling at her scalp, and she struggled to keep up the illusion of strength. But the moment the fresh air hit her in the face, she dropped like a sack of potatoes, barely registering the shouts of the security guard as she went down.

“Cosette! Oh god... Rand, call for an ambulance! Now!”


<Jesse Fforde> The Necromancer is standing by the bus shelter, leaning against it idly while he waits, his eyes focused upon the building across the road. He doesn’t want to miss anything, and will not allow any distractions. None at all.

As soon as he woke up, Jesse had healed his shoulder. Although he’s still feeling only slightly sore, anyone who thought they recognised him from the night before would have to dismiss it as only a vague coincidence. A man who looks similar, but not the same one. Couldn’t be the same one. Why? Because the man from the night before should be in a cast by now. Jesse is not.

His leather-clad arms are crossed over his chest. Beneath the jacket, he wears a plain black hoodie, which he has pulled up over his head. Beyond the numbness and the shameful anxiety about his own actions from the night before, underneath it, there’s something else. Something… familiar. A vague buzz, the beginnings of a high. As if that high, that satisfaction, is within his reach. As if he’s already started the siring process, as if he’s in the midst of it, rather than having just decided to do so.

That’s what he puts it down to. The decision. The knowledge that, by the end of the night, he’ll feel better. The addiction will be sated, and for better or worse, Cosette will be Fforde. Or will he take her home and explain it, and give her a choice? It’s not much of a choice, really. It’s got to be this, or death. Right? That’s what the creed is. The creed that he devoutly follows.

Except, it doesn’t seem as if it’s going to be so straightforward, to begin with. Cosette does exit the building, but she is not alone. She is being escorted. Jesse waits, intrigued. Until Cosette collapses and the man is calling for an ambulance. At that point, Jesse swiftly crosses the road. He whips the hood away from his head and, as soon as he reaches the two of them, he reaches down to try to gently haul Cosette to her feet. The guy accompanying her seems to back off, a step or two.

“I have a car,” Jesse says. He lies, obviously. He has a motorbike, not a car. And it’s not parked here, it’s parked elsewhere. “I’ll take her to the hospital,” he says. The guy seems to recognise Jesse from his previous visits; from the nights that he had spent conversing with Cosette. And he’d even come to the museum when Cosette wasn’t working. A regular, who’d never caused any trouble. Had always just hung out sketching. There’s no reason for the guy to distrust Jesse, though Jesse supposes he still has that dry-mouthed feeling of dread.

Whatever the case, Jesse doesn’t give him the time to argue. He’s already turned to veer Cosette toward the street.

“You should go inside, though. Call ahead. Tell them we’re coming,” he says. He wants just enough time to disappear.

<Cosette> After what felt like hours later, Cosette finally cracked an eye. She drew a sharp, rasping breath - a painful breath, as if her lungs hadn’t been quite working like they should. But nothing looked the way it should to her hazy vision. No familiar four walls, and certainly not the stark, institutional look of the hospital. It was also very dark. Adam had been yelling about an ambulance just before she lost consciousness. So what gave?

She sat up a little, her head aching more than ever. She could feel the fever still burning away in her veins, the pain still radiating throughout her limbs, but even if it hadn’t been for those hindrances, there was the blanket tightly bundled around her to contend with. Crooking a brow would take too much effort and waste precious energy, so instead, she made a weak move to pull the blanket from her limbs - a light item that shouldn’t have felt nearly so heavy as it did.

After what felt like an hour, she’d finally managed to push the item off. Strangely, she was still mostly dressed in clothes from what she thought to be the night before, though her shoes and cardigan were off to the side. Cosette sat up, slowly, and swung her legs over the side of the... bed? Where on earth was she? She drew a shaky breath, trying to talk herself into trying to stand, but from the way her limbs were trembling and how heavy her head felt, she doubted it would last long. She cast a look around for her purse. Her phone might still be in there, and it might still have a charge... getting out of there, wherever she was, and going for medical help was surely the best option. This couldn’t be good - she couldn’t remember ever having such a reaction to a shot before... but why wasn’t she in the hospital? After a few more looks around the dimly-lit room, her gaze fell upon the leather satchel.

Little by little, she slid down and off the bed, figuring it would probably be best, and quietest, to crawl to where the rest of her belongings had been haphazardly placed. With some effort, she finally managed to do just that, sitting with her weight leaning heavily against the wall for a moment before she began groping through the bag to find the very thing that would get her the hell out of there…

<Jesse Fforde> There were things that Jesse could have done, of course, to ensure that his newest progeny wouldn’t escape. Though, calling her ‘the newest progeny’ is going a little too far. Something had happened that Jesse could not explain. He had done nothing, thus far, but bite Cosette. To feed on her the way he had fed on so many people in the past. None of those--to his knowledge--had started to turn. And, well, there was a very, very rare, select few that he had ever let live to begin with. So how would he have known that only a bite could be so potent?

As he sat nearby while Cosette slept, he had thought about it.

The fact that, since his own creation, he himself had evolved. Where once he was just an ordinary vampire with no special abilities, now he was capable of a whole gamut of things. One of which? He could shapeshift into a snake. A poisonous snake. Had the poisonous properties of the snake transferred to his vampiric self as well? Poison, stored in his teeth, injected into the human body when bitten? It’s a good thing he likes to burn his victims…

And, secondly - is it really there, or is it something that he’s imagining? At one point he’d ended up crouched down beside Cosette, staring. As if just looking at her could help him to figure it out. But it was there. That tenuous bond that’s about as weak as a frayed spider web. It’s there, and there’s no denying it.

He could have rifled through Cosette’s bag and taken the phone from it, but he hadn’t. That’s no way to inspire trust. She’s already wary, and he’s already on shaky ground. He should just kill her while she sleeps, but the bond is there. It’s already started. And… he doesn’t want to. He just doesn’t want to. So he lingers, nearby. He waits, drifting back and forth between the bedroom and the rest of the house like a lost soul. Until finally he returns to find Cosette rifling through her bag. He stands by the door and clears his throat.

“You aren’t in any danger here,” he says. He blinks, oddly calm. That’s how he knows what’s happening, in the end. He’s far too calm, compared to the night before.

“No intentional danger, anyway,” he says. He tries for a cracked smile, though he already knows it’ll go down about as well as wet sick.

<Cosette> Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice as a sharp breath was sucked between clenched teeth, teeth that somehow seemed sharper as they sliced along the inside of her lip. It was a move she almost immediately regretted, one that caused the pounding inside her skull to stop for a moment before it came back with a vengeance. Her fingers, at least, closed victoriously around the cell phone and as she squinted at the sudden light the screen provided, she could see a slew of missed calls and text messages.

“I don’t know why you brought me here... especially after I said I didn’t want to see you again, but I need a doctor, Jesse,” Cosette murmured in a tone that was far weaker and less authoritarian than she’d hoped for. Her dried-out throat burned with the effort it took to talk, her voice cracking on the last word or two. “I need some water,” she added, though loathe to ask him for anything. As far as she was concerned, Jesse Fforde was the entire reason she’d found herself in such a mess. Asking him for anything was like... like admitting defeat.

“Where am I, anyway?” she said, half-dreading the reply. For all she knew, the guy had dragged her off to some creepy *** lair where she’d never hope to escape. Cosette looked down and thumbed through the phone, trying to see what text messages she could, only she realized then that her vision was blurred. “Did you take out my contact lenses?” she asked, slightly appalled at the idea. “Or am I that sick?” She felt her brow furrow, felt the little lightning bolts of pain slice through as she spoke. It seemed to her she was babbling, in a sense, and unable to express the rage that was still brewing, there beneath the fever.

<Jesse Fforde> It takes a while for Jesse to answer.

He’s watching Cosette closely. Every single move she makes, every breath, every uttered word; he’s analysing her skin, his head ducking to get a look at her mouth when he smells the blood. Waiting for her to talk again so that he can… yes, see the sharp glint of teeth that shouldn’t have been so sharp otherwise. Where he’d been leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, he now uncoils and slowly enters the room. Slowly, he crouches down in front of Cosette, a few feet away. A stronger being, making himself look smaller to a timid creature. Either that, or making himself look smaller to someone who’s about to lash out.

“You’re in my home,” Jesse says.

“Our home,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to walk in from the other room, but they are alone for now. He had posted to the Crownet about Cosette; he had let them all know that she was there, and ill. And thus they have been quiet.

“You’ll want to laugh at what I tell you next, but it’s the honest-to-gods truth,” Jesse says. Although it looks as if he’s got his gaze steadfast upon Cosette’s face, he’s ready to snatch that phone out of her hands if she manages to call anyone. But he doesn’t want to take it away from her just yet. Doesn’t want her to think that she’s being held hostage, even though that’s what she is, for all intents and purposes. For now. He wants, in some way, to gain her trust.

“I am a vampire. I bit you because I’d lost a lot of blood, and I wasn’t in my right mind. You saw me. I had a bone protruding out of my leg and my arm was all messed up. Do I look like a man with a broken leg to you?” he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet to push the point home.

“It’s never happened before--” and he doesn’t explain why, for obvious reasons, “--but that single bite seems to have started the process. Feel your teeth. I can bring you some water, but I have a feeling your body might reject it,” he says. He’s not actually too sure. How far gone is she?

“I can’t take you to a Doctor. They won’t be able to help you, now,” he says. He cringes. He doesn’t mean it to sound ominous. He knows what he wants to do to try to help Cosette; he assumes that by draining her dry and re-feeding her his blood, she’ll turn properly, like the rest of them. But he’ll wait to let this information sink in, first, before he tells her what he plans on doing next.

<Cosette> It hadn’t occurred to her at first that Jesse was fully healed. Too soon. Far, far too soon. And having it pointed out in such a way only served to make the entire interaction even more surreal. Even though she might not have any idea how much time had passed, Cosette knew it couldn’t have been that long. She drew in another breath, a shaking one this time, as she tried to process everything he was saying to her through the pounding in her head. His home. Broken body. Bite. Vampire.

She shoved back, forgetting the wall was behind her, eyes wide and wild, though things were still blurring in and out of focus. She shook her head. “No,” she hissed, her gaze trained right on him, trying like hell to bore through him. “Laugh? If you’re serious, that’s not a ******* joke, that’s a nightmare,” she growled, feeling the rage rise again and take precedence over the pain. Vampires didn’t exist. He was full of ****. He had to be. Unless...

She did as he said and ran her tongue over her teeth as she became aware of the taste of blood in her mouth. For once, it didn’t taste bad. Only half-believing, she wasn’t as careful as she should be and felt the sharp tip of one slice right into the muscle. Another gasp slid past her lips, full of fear, anger, shock and... if she was honest... hunger. “No,” she whispered again, shaking her head as she finally dropped her phone. “No, no... that. That can’t be...” She gaped at him for a wild moment, feeling her middle give a painful twist of hunger at the taste of even more blood as the tip of her finger gingerly moved over the sharpened teeth now gracing her mouth.

She left her teeth alone long enough to rub at her eyes, only realizing then that the contacts were still in as they dragged and scratched all over. With an unlady-like grunt, she plucked them both out, relieved at least for the scratching to stop, though the bewilderment remained that she could see without them. “So what’s happening to me, then? You say this isn’t normal. Does that mean I’m going to die because you lack control over yourself? If so, why not kill me now? Why leave me to suffer? Or am I going to be like... like you? A vampire?” She could hear the panic lacing her weakened tone, though the edge lent a false strength to it. Still, it didn’t stop her from pressing her hands to her face and drawing another breath. Though she was beginning to notice, a little more each time, that the breaths were becoming fewer and farther between... almost like she forgot, like her body forgot, until her lungs burned for air and reminded her once more.

“What the **** is happening to me?”

Eventually, she slid her hands down and stared him square in the eye. “You did this, Jesse... so fix it. One way or the other, fix it. Don’t leave me like this...please...”

<Jesse Fforde> The truth is, Jesse doesn’t know. Given long enough, would Cosette revert to her usual human self? Would she become something like a blood thief? No… she hadn’t consumed any vampiric blood. What Jesse doesn’t know for sure, he tries to reason. The fact that she has those fangs, that she no longer needs her contacts? The process has already started. Which means, inside, her organs might have already begun to die; to decay and become useless. There’s no coming back from death. Not really. Not without transforming fully to begin with.

“I haven’t killed you because… I don’t want to,” he admits, plain and simple.”It’s not normal because I’ve never turned anyone with just a bite before. I’ll wager that’s why the process is slow, and why you’re in pain. The way it usually happens? I should have drained you of your blood and fed you mine in return,” he explains, slowly, watching Cosette’s reaction carefully. Such a suggestion could never go down well.

“I don’t believe that you can come back from this, if I were to let you go. If you’ll let me do as I have explained, then you will become like me, yes. And I can promise you that although it might seem like a nightmare, eventually you might come to see that it’s not. It’s a gift. The perks outweigh the cons. You’ve already noticed you don’t need your contacts anymore. You’ll become immortal. Your strength can only grow. You’ll be more than human. Better than human,“ he says. He cannot mask the enthusiasm in his tone. If nothing else, Cosette is a gift. Her presence on that street. If it were anyone else… but she isn’t a stranger. Not entirely. This whole situation was an accident, but the consequences, in Jesse’s opinion, are fortuitous. From where he’s standing, anyway. He has to keep in mind that it’s not the same for Cosette, who probably wishes she’d never had to go to work that night.

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


<Cosette> “You don’t want to?” she breathed out on a note of incredulous laughter that gave way to a choked-off sob. “What about what I want? Why didn’t I get a choice in this?” She clapped a hand over her mouth as everything struck her full force. She was too young to seriously consider the future farther on than earning her Masters degree, but there’d always been the hope of meeting someone, of falling in love. Marriage, children, growing old and loving grandchildren. Wasn’t that the typical dream? And now... now it was gone. One way or another. She’d either die, or she’d become some sort of blood sucking beast she’d only ever thought existed in works of fiction.

Still. Some semblance of life had to be better than none, didn’t it? And there were so many things she didn’t yet know the answers to. The little voice of reason, of survival, chattered away in the back of her twisting thoughts, reminding her that hope wasn’t completely lost, not yet. That there was, possibly, some sort of future to look forward to. What kind of future remained to be seen, though...

“And if I agree? If I let you... drink my blood and feed me yours? What if it works and I hate it? Is there some way out?” Immortality was immortality, after all, wasn’t it? “And what about my life? You can’t expect me to just... leave it all behind, if this experiment works...” She shook her head, slowly, the panic still lacing through her burning blood. This was the strangest version of fight or flight she’d ever experienced - part of her wanted to try, but the other part of her wanted it to end. Pain didn’t frighten her so much, no - it was more the unknown, the millions of questions dancing around her head. And, possibly most of all, the knowledge that none of this would have ever happened had she just kept walking that snowy night at the museum. If Cosette were pressed, she would have to honestly admit that, above all else, she was absolutely terrified.

<Jesse Fforde> Jesse could have told Cosette, then and there, that he’d been thinking about this on and off in the back of his mind since that night at the club. The pub. Whatever that place was where he’d stumbled across Cosette, and that band, where she’d met her friends and he’d slipped off to avoid having to mingle. But it’s a long story, which would require further explanation; the fact that he has a problem, that he needs to sire to feel like himself, that he had made a vow not to sire any more unknowns. That, in the end, Cosette was… well, she wasn’t being groomed insomuch as Jesse was getting to know her, and hadn’t yet figured out how to go about broaching the subject.

Thing is, he’d hoped for this outcome. It just hadn’t gone exactly to plan--not that he’d had a plan. So it doesn’t really matter, does it? Jesse shakes his head.

“No way out. Once it’s done, it’s done. Your life? I … don’t see why you would have to stop studying, but you’d just have to make some adjustments, is all. Only night time classes. No one else can know what you are. This is a secret you must keep. Unfortunately, human acquaintances might have to fall by the wayside,” he says. That’s something that can be discussed more later. Once upon a time he might have said she had to sever all ties with her human acquaintances, but he’s starting to change his tune. As a vampire who needs to sire to get by, and as one who has vowed never to turn someone he doesn’t know again, then human acquaintances are required, to some extent. He needs to get out more.

“Trust me, Cosette. I intended to give you a choice. But circumstance decided otherwise. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I wanted it to be different this time,” he admits, a frown puckering his brow.

“I’ll do my best to show you all the good things. So that you don’t hate it, completely. You won’t be abandoned. If you agree, I can be more sure of the outcome. If you don’t agree, then I don’t know what will happen to you, but given the process has already started, I doubt the outcome will be good. The gamble is yours to take.”

<Cosette> No way out. “So immortality is a done deal, then. Are you telling me nothing can kill a vampire?” She shuddered, though whether it was from the growing fever or the idea of living forever, she really couldn’t say. Maybe both. She drew in another shaking, labored breath and released it on a sigh. It was relief to know not everything would have to change... if it even worked in the first place.

“What if I don’t tell them what’s happened, would I still need to cut all ties? My family will come looking for me, you know, if they haven’t already...” Not a day went by that she didn’t speak with her parents or brother, and the fact she hadn’t called or texted the night before, with her mother especially knowing she wasn’t feeling so good... well... Cosette winced at the thought of making any of them worry for her.

She had to stifle a laugh at the ‘trust me’ bit. Here she was, sicker than she’d ever been in her entire life, and all because of the rather untrustworthy man sitting before her. She frowned slightly. Maybe, that little voice in the back of her head whispered, maybe things would be different once he became the person who turned her. She scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to reconcile it all together, trying to make sense of the fact that she was currently dying a slow, painful death whether she wanted to or not. She let the words sink in for a while, staying silent as she tried to focus on them and their meaning. From what it sounded like, she didn’t have a terribly long time to make up her mind and so, at last, she worked to look him straight in the eye.

“Alright... I’ll try. Please... help me up...? I think I need to lay down again... while you walk me through this...”

<Jesse Fforde> All humour had fled Jesse’s demeanour. Even though he almost feels on top of the world again--almost--he is mature enough to know when it’s not the time to make light of a situation. Although he’d jumped at the opportunity to be turned, had asked for it, had jumped into that bathtub to be bled out with a sadistic kind of glee, he realises now that it’s not the same for everyone else. In the beginning, he’d turned on a whim. With Axel, Felicity… with the majority of those who fall directly beneath him in the Fforde bloodline, he’d turned them first and explained later. He’d been naive. He loved this life so much that he assumed everyone else would, once they’d got a taste for it. Who wouldn’t love the idea of living forever? Who wouldn’t love that they get to defy death, grow stronger, and gain powers beyond their imagining?

“We can be killed, yes, but we are like cockroaches. It takes a lot to kill a vampire. And when we do die? We go to what’s called the Shadow Realm. So long as you are killed within the confines of Harper Rock, you can come back from the dead. There are doors. Fade portals, from there to here. Death lasts about a week,” he explains as he crouches to help haul Cosette to her feet. He still doesn’t try to take her phone away from her, or dissuade her from using it. She seems to know what’s happening; she seems to have a reasonable head on her shoulders. Somehow, he doesn’t think she’ll call her mother and start screaming for help. Well, he hopes.

“As for your family--they’re going to notice something’s not right, sooner or later. When you don’t… show up to brunches or lunches or whatever it is you do. When you see them only at night time and never eat anything in their presence. When you don’t age. Sooner or later, you’ll have to cut ties completely. Good things don’t happen to humans who know about us,” he warns. “Good things don’t happen to vampires who tell humans about us. All around, it’s just a bad idea,” he says, helping Cosette back to the bed. Her body seems to be exuding too much heat; maybe as a way of booting all the humanity from her system. Jesse won’t admit to his anxiety. He refuses to acknowledge it. He firmly believes that as soon as he drains Cosette and feeds his own blood back to her, that she’ll be fine and dandy by the next night. His confidence, at least, seems to have returned.

<Cosette> She curled up again, feeling the pain wracking through her limbs after being jostled as a feverish shiver rolled down her spine. All in all, it was uncomfortable and only growing in intensity, enough to take her breath away and keep her from being able to properly consider all he had to say. She wasn’t quite to the point of begging, but she knew she couldn’t hold out for much longer like this.

When Cosette finally managed to clear the haze from her head and let his words sink in, she rolled them around her head, finding them to be an anchor that kept her from drifting away. A distraction from the physical pain and discomforts. But if it worked, if his plan did what he said it would, then this would all stop, wouldn’t it? It wasn’t as if there was much choice either way. The change had already started, so who was to say she would die even if she asked him to end her life altogether? Who was to say anything, in any which way, would work?

“I won’t say anything... I’ll figure out a way to keep them content with minimal visiting,” she murmured, the thought of any of her loved ones coming to harm over this only serving to intensify her anxieties. “But you have to let me at least text my mother and tell her I’m alright...or she’ll be here soon enough...” A fresh shiver spilled through her as she curled tighter under the blanket.

“After that... let’s do this. Turn me into a vampire so this can stop,” she said, the growing weakness in her scratching voice causing a chilly worry to coil deep in her middle. Consciousness was already beginning to falter, though whether it was sheer exhaustion or death creeping closer, she could not say for certain.

<Jesse Fforde> It is almost as if he can see the sickness come over her, like a blanket. The blood blanches from her skin and he can feel the heat as it flees her system. Her words taste of haste and Jesse feels it, too. Because, beneath it all, he can feel that bond. An invisible tether tying him to this woman and it’s getting weaker. Flickering. At any moment it could blink out of existence.

He doesn’t let Cosette lay down just yet, and nods as she asks about texting her mother. He barely waits for her to finish before he brushes the hair away from her neck. There’s no reason to delay. She knows what’s coming, she knows this is what he had suggested. She hadn’t asked any more questions that he had to answer before continuing; permission had been granted. Turn me into a vampire. Sharp canines slid from aching gums and Jesse leans over Cosette. He could have taken from the wrist. Could have, but he’s never done that before, so why start now?

This time is far gentler than the last time, however. The last time he’d bitten Cosette he’d been a desperate man who’d lost all control. It would have hurt. Not that this won’t hurt, but it’ll be a mere sting in comparison to his behaviour on the street. His lips don’t linger over-long before his teeth break the skin. One quick, incisive stab to break through to the vein, after which he retracts his teeth. He finds there’s less pain, that way. Less intrusion. Less friction of needles sunk into skin.

His lips are already closed around the wound, allowing no blood to escape as the hot blood hits his tongue. Breath flees his lungs as the satisfaction is immediate. The satiation of that constant clawing thirst--the only time he is allowed any reprieve is when the blood coats the back of his throat.

He has a hand wrapped around behind Cosette, fingers splayed over her back. To keep her upright. To help her stay balanced. The grip gentle and, hopefully, slightly reassuring.

<Cosette> No sooner had she dropped the phone back on to the bed than his arms were tightening around her, hair sliding easily from her clammy skin. He felt cold, but not nearly as cold as two nights before. Was it because she was fading, or because she was becoming closer to that which he already was?

A weak breath was drawn as she waited for what she knew was coming next. The bite that would hopefully fix this, would hopefully give her a chance at some semblance of life. That Jesse was willing to try was enough for her; somewhere in the tangled forest of dismay, nerves, and flat-out anger, was a glowing little ember of budding trust. Of some sort of forgiveness. He couldn’t have known, if she were to believe him, that this would happen over a mere bite. The bite itself had been born of desperation, of a need she would only just begin to understand over the following handful of hours. Because try as she might upon leaving the hospital, nothing Cosette had eaten or drunk had taken the edge off of an immense hunger that had started soon after. And given time to think about it, even then she’d known he hadn’t meant to do it quite like that. It had been nothing more than a mistake, an error in judgment.

The slight breath stuck in her throat as she felt his teeth sink in. If she hadn’t already been in pain, or hypersensitive to touch or sound, it might not have hurt as much as the other because she could tell, somewhere in the haze of exhaustion and the agony of her body shutting down, that he was being gentle with her. But in her weakened state, Cosette couldn’t do much more than hold still, or allow a soft sound of pain to well in her throat, one so quiet it likely couldn’t be heard at all.

She felt her limbs go slack in his grip, her back finally losing its rigidity as she at last gave in to the idea that he wasn’t about to let her go, that she could rely upon him to hold her up until she could do so herself. Beyond allowing him to try this unknown experiment in the first place, it was perhaps the first conscious step she’d taken in allowing herself to trust him, to trust he knew what he was doing, and that he wouldn’t purposely hurt her further.

She forced another breath then, waiting for his next move as she clung to what little consciousness she had left.

<Jesse Fforde> As much as Jesse knows he should not be thinking about himself right now, he cannot help but feel a little selfish. He cannot help but feel that sudden rush of anticipation. Because the next part? The next part is the best part. The part where he opens a vein and feeds his blood to another - to strengthen them and give them new life. To affect a change in them with his own DNA, making them a new member of the Fforde lineage.

It is the next part that he is addicted to.

At this point in his vampiric life, Jesse knows as if by instinct how much blood fills a human body. He knows how much is too much; and he knows exactly where to stop if he needs that human to live. When he feels the tension in Cosette’s body ease, Jesse knows that he needs to ease, too. Although there is a heavy reluctance in his mind, he does stop. As soon as that last mouthful is swallowed, the hunger returns. A slow burn that dogs his every step. Easily ignored now, however, as he pulls back.

Cosette already has teeth. The sharp teeth of a vampire. He had seen them. Although he might usually have bit into his own wrist, he hesitates, now. Instead, this can be Cosette’s first lesson. How to feed.

“You’ve got the teeth of a vampire now. Use them,” he says. Although he is still holding Cosette upright, he still has one hand free. He lifts it, now, to prod at his own arched neck; to find the protruding vein beneath the ink and point to it. If Cosette’s instincts aren’t fully developed as yet, she might **** this up. But Jesse knows he will heal, and no bite will be fatal. This is a thing she will have to learn, however, if she chooses to feed on humans.

As much as Jesse might preach the use of blood bags, he’d be a hypocrite if he doesn’t teach his progeny how to feed from humans, too. Some nights, it just can’t be helped.

<Cosette> More blood lost to this male’s immense thirst, to the point she worried if she could afford to lose any more and still function well enough to so much as hear him. Cosette couldn’t help but wonder, as she drifted on a soft blanket of numbing limbs and the gentle sway of fluid consciousness, if it would be like that for her, too. Always thirsty, or hungry, or whatever it was a vampire was. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she’d decided that there wasn’t going to be any other outcome. She was going to live, so to speak, and become just like Jesse. If she kept entertaining the idea she could die, then she likely would, because giving up and giving in seemed, at first glance, the far less frightening option.

Finally, he withdrew enough to speak and, to her surprise, she could still hear him. If anything, the shock of more blood loss was maybe enough to grant her some small amount of clarity, a sharpness to her mind that she’d read would often come to those teetering between life and death. She watched him with ever clearing vision, prodding at his neck to find the vein there. One, to her surprise, she could almost see... feel... even smell.

She gave in to the instinctive search for sustenance; even though the very thought had her stomach churning already, it had to work, right? It had to be the thing to quench or sate her, when nothing else had done the trick. That almost sickening sense of teetering came back, briefly, to her mind, but she shoved it away and instead focused her energy on doing what Jesse said.

Her fingers curled, as tightly as she could manage, over his shoulders as she lifted her chin, letting in nothing but the growing, insistent urge to try out those sharpened fangs and bite into flesh. It wouldn’t be quite the same as biting into a warm human, but she had yet to try any and so what difference would it make to the likes of herself?

Eyes closed, she hunted for it, based only on scent and the ever-strengthening instincts that told her mouth where to go. A soft brush of lips over his skin confirmed it and, moments later, she felt her fangs sink, hesitantly at first, into his throat. It wasn’t the smoothest attempt, but a few moments later she thought she’d succeeded, followed by the victorious first gush of vitae past her pale lips. It didn’t taste as bad as she had expected, but nor was it particularly good, either. Still, she didn’t gag, didn’t feel sick at either thought or the act, which had to be a start.

<Jesse Fforde> This is the one thing Jesse would never show to his fledglings upon turning. As soon as Cosette’s teeth sink into his skin he refrains from making any sound. He does not tense; he remains relaxed and calm--at least, he would appear relaxed and calm on the surface. Underneath, however, it’s all buzzing and tangling of electric wires, head spinning mouth dry. This is his high, to feel his own blood being taken by another. It’s hard for him to keep still; to keep his body from leaning heavily against Cosette’s or his fingers to curl around her arm. His hand does drop from her back, but it falls to bed and stays there.

Jesse does his best not to lose himself to the sensation, even though every fibre of his brain is screaming at him to relish the event, because it might not happen again for a while. But his eyes remain open and glued to the wall behind the bed, and when he licks his lips he can taste the remnants of Cosette’s blood. The twin wounds that he had made in her neck had no doubt already healed.

Once this is done, he’ll have to go and feed again. He was losing blood to Cosette, and the less he has the more hungry he is, the more his body screams to be fed. Moreso than usual. But he doesn’t think about that, now. The one indication that he is thoroughly enjoying himself is that he doesn’t make Cosette stop. That’s the downfall of his disease, in the end. One that he hasn’t encountered, as yet. One day, someone’s going to take that opportunity to drain him dry in return, and he’ll do absolutely nothing to stop them.

She is new, however. She needs the blood to thrive. She has to take as much as she can, right? That’s the excuse. Jesse says and does nothing. He remains still, his eyelids drooping just a little as he succumbs to the high.

<Cosette> She drank slowly, trying to ignore how the metallic taste was both good and foreign all at once, repelling her and drawing her in. A perfect paradox, not at all unlike her current situation of hanging between life and death. She also tried to ignore the way the taste of the blood changed, how she could almost sense the euphoria flooding the man in question. It quickened her own sluggish heart, for a short moment, while she tried to understand why she was still alive, could still feel the pain, deadened as it was, shooting through her limbs.

Finally, Cosette slowed her feeding and, eventually, managed to pull her lips from his throat, though she couldn’t help sliding her tongue along the wounds, where the dark blood still trickled in tiny rivulets. She drew a shaking breath as she finally slid her arms away and let her eyes open once more, her vision still shaky but clearer than when she’d woken the prior morning. Her heart gave a few painful thuds as she sat still, waiting for whatever change was to come.

But the only thing that greeted Cosette was the feel of her heart seizing hard within her chest, forcing her eyes to open wide with the sort of pain that took her breath away. She forced a deep inhale of air, her nails clawing at her chest for a brief, paralyzing moment, before the organ at last resumed its sluggish, stuttering pace.

“I’m still alive, Jesse,” she whispered just after she gasped for another painful breath. “Still alive, so what now?”

But whatever answer he may have sought to provide went unheard as her eyes rolled back in her head, as consciousness fled once more and she folded in on herself before she could even attempt to lay back again.