Natalie Waters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spitefulvitae) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-04-08 04:34 am
spitefulvitae) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-04-08 04:34 am
Entry tags:
02 - Sink into your Embrace
[Action A - 2240 Stevens Road - Friday, April 6th, morning]
[What was this in the mail? Packages? Three of them? One big, one small, and one envelope, all addressed to her? But she knew better than to open any of them in the open. Not with the sun shining. So she had taken them inside, and because she was impatient, brought them down to the light-sheltered basement so she could open them now.
To make a long story short, she now had a bloody nose, an assortment of bee stings, and a makeshift paper sign on the now-locked basement reading "DO NOT ENTER - CONTAINS BEES". Also, that remaining envelope. Sitting on the living room couch, she held it between her thumb and forefinger and fought with herself to hold off on the opening. There was nowhere dark enough. Nowhere secure enough. Not in this house. And the daytime made her sluggish, anyway.
The sun really needed to hurry and set.]
[Action B - general vicinity of 2240 Stevens Road, early evening]
[When the sun had finally dipped far enough under the horizon, Natalie ripped open the envelope from the town. In it was a slip of paper with a single dot of blood upon it. She was confused for only a moment, for suddenly she remembered the knives and the bleeding and the wounds and that single drop of Father's vitae passing her lips. She was experiencing it all over again. Dying again. Rising again.
There's a hideous scream from inside the house. And then not long after that, out staggers Natalie, bloodied from the wrists down, eyes rapidly sinking and darkening and full of hunger. Pedestrians at this time of night, beware.]
[Action C - 1490 Kramden, evening]
[There's an insistent banging on the front door. Ilsa had made promises, and Natalie fully intended to collect on them.]
[What was this in the mail? Packages? Three of them? One big, one small, and one envelope, all addressed to her? But she knew better than to open any of them in the open. Not with the sun shining. So she had taken them inside, and because she was impatient, brought them down to the light-sheltered basement so she could open them now.
To make a long story short, she now had a bloody nose, an assortment of bee stings, and a makeshift paper sign on the now-locked basement reading "DO NOT ENTER - CONTAINS BEES". Also, that remaining envelope. Sitting on the living room couch, she held it between her thumb and forefinger and fought with herself to hold off on the opening. There was nowhere dark enough. Nowhere secure enough. Not in this house. And the daytime made her sluggish, anyway.
The sun really needed to hurry and set.]
[Action B - general vicinity of 2240 Stevens Road, early evening]
[When the sun had finally dipped far enough under the horizon, Natalie ripped open the envelope from the town. In it was a slip of paper with a single dot of blood upon it. She was confused for only a moment, for suddenly she remembered the knives and the bleeding and the wounds and that single drop of Father's vitae passing her lips. She was experiencing it all over again. Dying again. Rising again.
There's a hideous scream from inside the house. And then not long after that, out staggers Natalie, bloodied from the wrists down, eyes rapidly sinking and darkening and full of hunger. Pedestrians at this time of night, beware.]
[Action C - 1490 Kramden, evening]
[There's an insistent banging on the front door. Ilsa had made promises, and Natalie fully intended to collect on them.]
no subject
[ Her next question is calm, as if she dealt with this sort of thing every day... but Mayfield has done weird things to Ilsa's ability to be shocked. ]
Do you need more tonight?
no subject
[The answer is loud and immediate, and she seems to have startled herself with it. There's a jump, and then an effort to calm herself by passing her hands over her forehead and through her hair.]
I'll... back that up. I could go back out, break into everyone's houses, ferret out the drones and make a big fuss... or I can have one good drink of someone real and be much more rational and reasonable.
[Surely Ilsa would understand the better choice.]
no subject
[ Just like that. ]
no subject
[She scoots over, to better let Ilsa position herself. No, she doesn't like being friends with her food. But she's so damned hungry.]
It won't hurt much, but I doubt you'll care for it.
[She liked Ilsa, in spite of herself. So. Honesty.]
no subject
[ Ilsa arranges herself on the couch next to Natalie, putting one arm around her shoulders, and offering the other one. The wrongness about Natalie is not as uncomfortable as the mildew, but Ilsa is relaxing, employing meditation exercises. She's tentatively broadcasting calm to Natalie, hoping to make the experience less stressful. ]
no subject
Natalie takes Ilsa's forearm in both hands, bears her fangs, and then sinks them in. There's a sharp pain, quickly fading into something sickly sweet and wrongly pleasant. She drinks, and drinks, and her fingers shift lower and higher along Ilsa's arm, looser to let the blood flow.
And then she stops, withdraws her fangs, licks the wound clean, and sits back with a very much satisfied look on her face. The roar atop her emotions is now just a hum.]
...and how are you feeling, Ilsa?
no subject
The pain is about the same as a blood draw, and Ilsa instinctively stills to keep the damage to minimum. She actually attempts to block the projection, as it is more uncomfortable than the teeth in her arm.
When the feeding is done, Ilsa sighs. ]
That's not too bad. How many drones did you have to feed from with me?
no subject
I fed from three. I drained one completely. And I'll confess to wasting a bit of blood, seeing if any of my disciplines were available to me. They weren't. Seeing as I have very little reason to exert myself right now, this should last me for almost a week.
no subject
You might get back your connection to your powers in pieces. That's how it was for me.
[ She absently rubs Natalie's back as she thinks. ]
So, maybe four drones and one aware donor per week, unless things get hairy. I'm guessing from the time you took that it wasn't more than a pint from me. If you can, it wouldn't hurt to start keeping a diary of donors, making note of how you feel afterwards. It might help us see what factors are better for you here.
no subject
I've already got a clear idea of how much I need. I don't need.... [Then she trailed off, and paused. Hadn't she told Fang that this place was, overall, full of "special" people?]
...well. Considering the overall population here, I should keep notes. Goddess knows what I'm actually eating, half the time.
[She gives Ilsa a wary look. That taste was something other than bog-standard human. And it was nice, but it concerned her.]
no subject
[ Ilsa sighs, and realizes she hasn't told Natalie the whole truth. ]
I thought that because Nyanpire hadn't had any problems, it would be safe enough... and Uncle Dave was able to feed from Daddy in an emergency without ill effects. But the fact is, my father is an incubus.
no subject
I don't have much experience in feeding on anything that's not a human. I've heard that drinking werewolf blood drives you into an unnatural rage, but it's really potent stuff. Incubus blood? Even diluted? Well. It's nice....
[...did she suddenly smell less... damp and awful? If she did, Natalie herself hadn't noticed.]
no subject
[ Ilsa shrugs again. ] The main thing that I know comes from Daddy's side is the pain-sharing. I can pull the pain from wounds, taking on part of the injury myself, and transmute the energy to healing. I get my empathic abilities from both sides, and the ability to see mage-work from Mama's bloodline. There's a few other accessories here and there, but some I haven't grown into yet.
no subject
[She shifts on the couch, going crosslegged, so she can watch Ilsa as she explains. This wonderful woman was telling her so much. This could be so useful..]
Those are interesting powers. Healing is something hard to come by, in my experience. I can use the blood in my system to mend my own wounds... but no one really ought to be having any of it. [She chuckles darkly.] ...what do the vampires do, where you come from? This stupid place has vampire cats and vampires that drink coffee and apparently ones that spawn new ones with just a nip... what're yours like?
no subject
Well, the ones that fit in society usually work third shift somewhere, and have a blood bank subscription. Most of the ones I've met are only a few generations old, so not a lot of independently wealthy debauched nobility, which is how they're presented in fiction in my world. The rogues are the ones that don't care where or how they hunt, but I haven't had to deal with one on my watch, just the aftermath when the other vampires took a rogue down.
My great-great-great-great-uncle was born Domingo Andreas Jesus Gutierrez, in Cuba. When he was transformed, he ran to Miami, to avoid hurting the family. So, several identities later, he's David Jimenes, late-night disc jockey for the Latin station back home.
no subject
So the "supernatural" and the mundane mingle, where you come from. Has it always been like this?
[She frowns and looks away.]
We maintain a "Masquerade", and hide ourselves from the public. We live and work in the shadows. Some very old, very powerful ones pull the strings in high places. Quite a lot of more of us scrabble from night to night, trying to carve out a niche in our society. We keep each other in check. There are rules. There are expectations. There are punishments.
I sometimes wonder how long we'll be able to keep it up, in this modern age.
no subject
We have a version of the Mask in our world, to protect both sides of the equation. Not everyone understands that magic has laws, just like science. There's just a couple of places where the officials know it's better to just not ask, and approve the rare strange request. Like the blood banks never advertise what happens to blood that isn't used for medical purposes.
no subject
[There's none of her usual sugary sarcasm, but no sincerity, either. Just tiredness.]
It still sounds fragile.
no subject
no subject
...I'll be fine for the rest of the evening. I should go.
no subject
Are you sure? You're welcome to stay. Can you drink wine, anymore?
no subject
If it's not blood, I'll spit it back up. You'd have to pass it through a person, first. [The sound she makes is more of a dismissive snort than a laugh.] You have a nice house and a nice world to go back to. I don't think I want to hear any more about it.
[Without even looking back, she starts for the door.]
no subject
I'm sorry to rattle on so.
[ She tries to project a feeling of comfort and welcome without being cloying. ]
Natalie, please don't be a stranger.
no subject
[She's almost to the door when she stops, and assesses her emotional state. Beyond the familiar hollow feeling in her chest, there was... warmth and welcome. As a human, she couldn't quite pinpoint that it wasn't her own. As a vampire, it was absolutely foreign.
Ilsa had been doing this all this time, hadn't she? She cast a surprised glance backwards.
No wonder Natalie had already gotten so fond of her.]
We'll see.
[And the voice was cold now, as she turned sharply and left.]