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_rpg2012-08-21 12:31 am
spitefulvitae) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-08-21 12:31 am
Entry tags:
06 - Welcome Home, Honey
[919 Bilko, Morning - Limited to Housemates]
[Another beautiful Mayfield morning dawns, but all is not well in the Goodman household. That pleasant drone wife has been replaced with someone far stiffer, deader, and somewhat mildewed-smelling. That alone might be bad enough. But she had been quite silent while things were dark. Now that there's sun, there's screaming.
As soon as the first sufficiently brilliant rays of light come pouring into the room, Natalie bursts from her spot on the bed with an inhuman shriek. She tears the blankets off the bed and wraps them around herself, but it's not nearly enough protection against the light. She can't see, with all of the brightness and all of the fabric covering her... it's making her efforts to find some sort of cover far too slow. A hand has crept out from the covers, and it's fumbling at the doorknob for the closet... it's also sizzling.]
OhgodohgodthesunnotthesunohfatherpleasenonotthesunfatherhelpmenoNONONOnonono...
[Around Town, Evening]
[It's a warm late-summer evening. A perfect time for light blouses and short sleeves. To hell with that, tonight. Not after the kind of morning Natalie had been through. Every inch of her is covered by clothing. Long sleeves cover her arms. Gloves cover her fingers. Her usual scarf is wrapped very, very high along her face. And her hair is even pulled forward to obscure her face even further, with just a slit left to allow for vision.
Really, the malfunctioning drones are a mercy, tonight. She needs blood, and lots of it, if she's going to be presentable anytime soon. Were you being annoyed by a particularly persistent drone asking the time or wishing you a good evening?]
...oh. Here. Let me take care of that...
[And she'll just be grabbing them, exposing their neck, and sinking her fangs in. Masquerade, shmasquerade. What was there to cover up, here? She was doing everyone a favor, honestly.]
[Another beautiful Mayfield morning dawns, but all is not well in the Goodman household. That pleasant drone wife has been replaced with someone far stiffer, deader, and somewhat mildewed-smelling. That alone might be bad enough. But she had been quite silent while things were dark. Now that there's sun, there's screaming.
As soon as the first sufficiently brilliant rays of light come pouring into the room, Natalie bursts from her spot on the bed with an inhuman shriek. She tears the blankets off the bed and wraps them around herself, but it's not nearly enough protection against the light. She can't see, with all of the brightness and all of the fabric covering her... it's making her efforts to find some sort of cover far too slow. A hand has crept out from the covers, and it's fumbling at the doorknob for the closet... it's also sizzling.]
OhgodohgodthesunnotthesunohfatherpleasenonotthesunfatherhelpmenoNONONOnonono...
[Around Town, Evening]
[It's a warm late-summer evening. A perfect time for light blouses and short sleeves. To hell with that, tonight. Not after the kind of morning Natalie had been through. Every inch of her is covered by clothing. Long sleeves cover her arms. Gloves cover her fingers. Her usual scarf is wrapped very, very high along her face. And her hair is even pulled forward to obscure her face even further, with just a slit left to allow for vision.
Really, the malfunctioning drones are a mercy, tonight. She needs blood, and lots of it, if she's going to be presentable anytime soon. Were you being annoyed by a particularly persistent drone asking the time or wishing you a good evening?]
...oh. Here. Let me take care of that...
[And she'll just be grabbing them, exposing their neck, and sinking her fangs in. Masquerade, shmasquerade. What was there to cover up, here? She was doing everyone a favor, honestly.]
no subject
[ Ilsa offers the indicated arm. ]
no subject
[There's hunger and resignation in her voice. This wasn't a meal that she had hoped she'd have to resort to... but it would be such a good meal. Her head dips, her fangs pierce, and there's that unnatural sickly-sweet pleasant feeling as she drinks. And its only to the point that Ilsa had previously been comfortable with. The drone buffet had taken the edge off.]
...aah.
no subject
Next time, call - or have someone call me. From what you've told me, the sooner you get fed after you get sunburned, the sooner you'll heal.
[ ...and being Ilsa, she'll try one more time. ]
You're sure you don't want me to try to take a little more of the edge off that for you?
no subject
It's... not quite like that. I haven't been this badly hurt since...
[It's not time for that story. She continues right along.]
The worse the injury, the more blood I need to spend to mend it. And the more time the healing will take to happen. Going by how much time Sandoval spent recovering from his misadventures, I should be back to normal in about a week. Maybe a week and a half.
[She gives her head a little shake.]
You've given me blood. That's fine. That's enough.
no subject
[ Ilsa gently tapers off the energy feed to Natalie. ]
Something to help stretch out the other donors. Have you been able to arrange things with your new housemate?
no subject
[At the talk of her new housemates, she nods quickly.]
We've started to make arrangements. Keith and I had met before. He's very kind. And very helpful. I think things will be fine.
no subject
[ Natalie may register a wisp of a feeling, a warmth similar to a hug, before it withdraws. ]
no subject
[She doesn't even shift uncomfortably this time around. Ilsa's just... one of those touchy feely people and she's just going to have to get used to it, isn't she?]
no subject
[ She gives a gentle smile. ] Is it okay if I bring him over tomorrow for measurements?