Natalie Waters (
spitefulvitae) wrote in
mayfield_rpg2012-08-21 12:31 am
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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
I'm glad you're awake, again, very glad you're awake! I worried all day that I should have taken you to the hospital.
no subject
I appreciate the concern... I shouldn't blame you. That must've been disturbing, what happened this morning.
[She sighs, and then starts to slowly and painfully make her way up the stairs. She's still in a nightgown and still burnt... though the blackened parts are marginally less blackened-looking.]
What's.... what's the house number? Where is this?
no subject
It was startling, but I'm used to helping people in bad situations, really I'm happy to help.
I'm really just glad you're okay. You will be okay, right? You said taking you to the clinic wouldn't help, but I still can if you'd like.
We're at 919 Bilko Boulevard.
I'm so sorry I'm late. D:
[When she gets to the top of the steps she leans heavily on the doorframe and looks all around. The house is pretty much the same as her last one. Strange...]
...ah?
[His question pulls her out of her little reverie.]
I'll heal myself over time. There's... really nothing that a clinic can do for me. Unless they let me eat everyone there.
[She laughs a horrible laugh, looking up at him, daring him to be repulsed already.].
So.. Yes. Hello. I'm Natalie Waters. I'm a vampire.
we are both guilty
A-are you?
[Playing it cool, playing it cool.]
That explains this morning, then!
[Oh hahaha!]
I'm a police officer in Mayfield! I wonder why you woke up here. . . does this mean you live here now?
no subject
A Mayfield police officer... you take your job seriously, you do, you do...
[Her fangs and her grin vanished, and she stepped unsteadily past him. If she lingered too long she'd be tempted to eat him. That wouldn't do. Not right now.]
Maybe it does. I don't know...
[She checks the coat rack in the hall. Well. There's her sweater. There's one of her long scarves.]
...mm, those're mine....
no subject
I guess that sounds like what's going on then, don't you agree? If your things are here . . .
. . . I guess you don't want the upstairs bedroom at all, do you?
[Normal conversation please. . .]
no subject
[She snatches the scarf and starts, still painfully and carefully, for the stairs leading to the second floor. She stops at the foot of them, casting a glance back to Keith.]
No. Not particularly. Can I have the basement? I'd like the basement.
[She's a monster. She won't deny this. But a monster can still hold a conversation. A monster can still communicate her needs in a reasonable fashion, right? At least for now. As long as no one comes in with a bleeding finger or something, then all bets are off...]