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Moths rest with their wings folded...
[Original Vampire x Vampire] A Curious Gut Feel
Duration: February 2014

Status: Terminated (No response even after follow up sent)

Ras - Deans_wax

Ange - Me

Comments: This was interesting while it lasted o_o

***

Ras stared up at the sequined night sky and chuckled softly, blinking back the tears that pooled around the hollow edges of his blue eyes. It really was pretty. Pretty. Maybe if he was smarter he could come up with a better word for it. They twinkled, well.. like starlight, geez, silver and fanciful up there, just like his hair might look from a distance in the sunlight. Up close it was brittle and over-bleached.

Rasputin Malekov was a lot cause for his whole life. Ask anyone; even him. He couldn't even remember the last time he saw the inside of a classroom. Nineteen and evergreen, he'd been in and out of juvie three times on six offenses and he'd only avoided the real deal by the skin of his teeth. Little things, some a bit worse; petty larceny, vandalism. Getting caught with enough drugs to get caught with, some predetermined figure factored by the law machine that said he was dealing but he wasn't doing good either. He had been dealing; the men from the corner just hadn't trusted him with more than a teenth at a time. Just another first-generation American from the gutters, all streetfight sinew and shadowed eyes. Just look at him now, though; what an artist. His blood was the brightest thing in this grimy alley, blooming a magnificent rose on the white cotton canvas sticking to his chest.

He shut his eyes and heard the sound of Tuvan throat singing from that documentary on the old thrift shop TV, and he smiled. It didn't hurt so much any more; the shock had long since settled in. There were no crying ladies or approaching police sirens; he laughed at that thought even though it jostled his muscles. Of course. People don't help people here. Not here.

He closed his eyes and saw the little girl in the bright red dress, turning with her bob of honeybrown hair. Now, that did hurt. For the first time he winced and shut his eyes with sorrow. That wasn't fair. Not now. He forced his blurry vision open to stare at the sky a little more.

Just let me have this.

What else was he going to do? There was nothing to do. He'd had a pretty shitty run, but it wasn't so bad. Not under this sky. Besides, what was he gonna do, huh? Get an ambulance to come? How many thousands of dollars he didn't have and never would would they charge to put him back together again? He wondered what they did with people like that who were so far in debt they had nowhere else to go - he burped up another smatter of hysterical laughter. It was wet and coppery. Maybe they died, too.

I'm pretty sure I'm done with this world.

He closed his eyes with a worried smile.

***

Long elegant fingers that better suited an artist than the murderer that he was made long lazy trail down his prey's heaving chest as he shoved the offending weight off his form and rose to full height. The vampire began to fix and primp himself, to smoothen out the wrinkles and creases on his clothes from his feeding. Feeling rather full from pigging out, uncharacteristically and unintentionally, yesterday, Ange decided that tonight would simply partake in a few sips just to have that warm full feeling for the evening before turning in for the night. Somehow the brunet managed to have found himself getting dragged into an pot session of some rebellious college clique and ended up having more than enough fill for a night's worth. It had been quite a drag since he really disliked having to dispose so many bodies...

He had rediscovered his fondness for blood from forbidden passion and had found himself lurking in the leisure district where booze, drugs and sex headily permeated the night time air. It was a proverbial field of hidden strawberries at just how easy it was to grab a meal or two, snacks at times and never worry about being caught red handed.

The crumpled mess of a human on the cold granite was an aging lady of petite proportions and office lady charm but plain looks that couldn't be saved even by cosmetics. The woman was sated in a dream of euphoric satisfaction and slight blood loss. There was a sleepy smile on her thin rouge colored lips with a few occasional mewls as she shifted against the dirt. She was past marrying age of thirty and had long accepted that if she was going to get laid was to wag paper bills in the faces of her one night lovers. Thankfully for Ange, she had a fondness of cute school boys so the vampire was definitely up her ally. He whisked her into a romp in the darkened corners of the criminally inclined areas of the city, insisting on thrill seeking and adventurous sex.

It wasn't too hard to play the role of the innocent school boy given his youthful appearance with his rounded cheeks, striking blue-violet eyes and slender built. He had been made at the age of eighteen though Ange could have very well been mistaken for younger. The vampire finger combed his jet black locks cut in layers that framed his features and wispy bangs as he considered his predicament and how to make the most of it: the night was young, he was well fed and he really had no plans to loose himself in the nightlife at that moment.

He broke out of his reverie at the sounds of a violent hustle not too far from where he was standing. A smile crept on his ruddy, plump lips as he made his way to the direction of the encounter. Another thing he loved about this part of town, there was always action and suspense waiting to unfold, that was much more exciting than how the silver screen portrayed it. The vampire never got himself involved and watched from the sidelines. Never his nature to get involved in business he wasn't forced into.

But there was something particularly...'charming' about what was unfolding before him. He frowned slightly when he realized that the party had long been dismissed and all he'd bear witness were the crumbs. Oh well. Nothing to do here... And yet--Feeling an unusual tug of gut feel, he descended upon the dying human with cat like grace and just as quietly, sauntered to the prone form. The vampire could feel so many things in the air all around but none of them made more impression on him as the surge and struggle of the soul nearing death. Standing over Ras, he examined the dying teenager with a strange curiosity; his bright violet eyes twinkling as he smiled slightly. Soon, the vampire found himself kneeling and reaching for the other. His fingers grazed over the wounds, the skin damage and eventually swiped down at the darkening red liquid on his skin. He did not go down with a fight and used every ounce of spirit he had in him. Strong willed.

Interesting, Ange mused to himself as he lapped at the blood on his finger tips. Tasty, with the beautiful tang and sweetness of the emotions of near death. Though something told him that even without the extra spice and salt of his roller coaster emotions, Rasputin would've been quite the delicacy.

Then he did the unthinkable.

Ange loosened the school boy necktie, letting it rest around his shoulders and proceeded to unbutton his cotton white shirt. The first pangs of hunger after being turned over would be the most intense and gut wrenching for any fledgling. After which, he reached for Rasputin and cradled him in his arms, not minding the stain and dirt on his oxford vest and dress slacks. The back of his hand gently brushed against the youth's cheeks and drifted down his jawline then violently ripped off obstructions to the throat and punctured the skin. He drained the other of whatever was left of his life quite greedily and hummed in pleasure at the intoxicating flavor in his mouth. Then instinctively, the boy pulled away and quickly sunk his teeth on his wrist till a wound made itself apparent. The vampire pressed the wounded wrist to Rasputin's mouth while his other hand squeezed his jaw open.

He had spontaneously decided that he would make a fledgling off a boy he didn't know off the bat like that. Why? Ange wished he knew the answer. It just felt right...
Unconsciously, the child faced vampire wondered if this was the exact feeling that his sire had experienced when he decided to embraced him.

"Why me?"

"You'll understand when it's your turn to hold another in yours arms, adore."

***

As the world faded to black, the baritone hum resonated through Rasputin's consciousness and opened his inner eye. So, there really was a light. Not a glaring tunnel or set of gates that shone like the sun, but a single, tiny ball of light that existed in the centre of a sphere like a seed. He reached out to touch it with an ethereal hand, his mind full of placid curiosity, when the throat singing stopped with a choke. A wet, coughing splatter that coincided with the light disintegrating into blotchy, black-and-white static. A thick glob of something red and wet dripped from an unseen ceiling and struck it to the ground.

NO

In the tangible world, vampiric blood dripped down Ras' throat and settled in with his saliva. There, it would slide down his oesophagus and into the realm of his stomach that was not the mundane horror most thought it to be, but a technicolour marvel. Red, fleshy walls riddled with brilliant blue veins encircled a mix of unknown remnants and fluorescent yellow acid, pulsing slowly to the rhythm of his dying systems. There, a dark tendril of the blood would touch a mucous membrane, causing a butterfly-like ripple that made his eyes snap open, unfocused. From there, it took an aggressive hold, like a fungus, worming its way into his tissues and taking over.

His body gave a jolt and for a split second seemed to reject the stuff that was saving him, lurching forward with a hacking splutter as the world began to seep back in to existence at the edges. He didn't know what was happening, but something inside him drove him to swallow, and suck, and gnaw at the appendage that was bleeding lukewarm copper onto his tongue. The time for conscious thought would come later. When he had enough strength, he turned to the younger man in an unsettling, absent-minded auto-pilot, seized his hair above the ear, and pulled. He shoved his head to the side like an open Pez dispenser, and bit down on the vein beneath milky skin with new, sharp teeth.

He drank.

***

The vampire should've known better than to have embraced a random stranger on a whim without knowing the consequences. He was acting on impulse and feel, allowing his gut feel to take over. It overrode the better part of his judgment and he was soon overwhelmed by Rasputin's larger frame pushing against him.

Quite the obvious considering the lean but well toned built of the boy, covered in the street life induced wear and tear. Even someone rather petite and rounded like himself turned over could summon great bouts of strength after being turned over, what more him who had been forged and set in the heat of battle?

He bucked under the force that sent his back against the solid walls. It hurt. Even by vampire standards. Ange attempted straighten himself, only to end up throwing his head back and hissing in pain. He let out a pained yelp when the newly made vampire ravaged his neck and began to suckle greedily at his juncture.

It was hardly a challenge for him to fend against but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. Instinctual tenderness washed over him as he allowed Ras to drink as he pleased. The newly made vampire was anywhere but out of the woods and more demon than human with an insatiable hunger and no control for his reanimated body. Ange shakily wrapped his arms around the other, gently urging him in silence to continue.

He wouldn't admit it openly but he was also frightened of seeing firsthand with his widened deep blue gaze the pain and suffering of being turned. Did he really look like that? It was scary. Everything happened so fast. One moment, the street fighter was all a lighter shade of human cream and flesh with darkened hues of blossoming purple and blue all over then.. Next came the rapid, accelerated healing, tensing and awkward jerking that pushed his body to its prime. Something, the brunet was sure he had never experienced for all of his daylight existence.

The vampire had only offered his blood for suckling to a few handful in his lifetime: his sire (no surprise) and two lovers. Or was it three? He wasn't sure anymore. It had been a long time and each of those three instances had ended with bitter cut offs. Each turn had always been tender and passionate, all done in the name of affection towards him. It pleasurable and intimate with a heady high that sent him over the edge, eyes dilated and mewling in wanton abandon. The brunet was used to the soft touches of endearment and butterfly kisses on his pale skin.

This...feral and brash weight was foreign. If he was still human, he was fairly sure or bruise or sustain some kind of internal injury. At most, his skin turned a deeper shade of pink-red from the pressure of being held onto so harshly, tightly.

This was perhaps the first time that he was forced to undergo so much pain that dotted the sides of his eyes with little red beads for tears. It was really painful to be rough houses during such a special union between two of the kin.

And yet it felt good all the same.

It was a strange high so different from the gentle love bites that drew blood from his veins: a mix of pain and pleasure spread like wildfire throughout his body with each suck and swallow from his new childe. There was a sudden burst of warmth that went straight to his head and the tips of this digits, a sort of bright and crackling internal fire. He was scared because this was the first, perhaps the last time he'd have to endure such unfamiliarity. All of this put him ill at ease because of how one part of him waged war at the hurt and willed it to be over while another relished in the delectation of the entire thing. Worse, Ange found himself softly moaning and squeezing Rasputin, pulling him close to his smaller frame. A tiny voice inside of him was softly nagging at the apparent lewdness of his enjoyment and scolded him for liking it.

This was the first time he'd ever done this and looked at the demon in the face. Yet something in him ticked and quietly took command of him to know just what to do next and all that. Eventually, the vampire focused his strength on his arms and firmly wrenched Ras off him and gracelessly shove him to the floor, back on the drying pool of blood and dirt. That was enough, his instincts told him. Anymore than the younger vampire would already choke and feel too sick at the sudden fullness of blood.

He needed to catch his breath and think. He was uncharacteristically exhausted and yet blissfully sated all the same. He traced over the puncture wounds and yipped unhappily. The marks would heal eventually, perhaps tomorrow they would be gone.

It was in the quiet symphony of the city sounds of low tv hums, car horns and clicking heels that the guilt of breaking the balance sunk in. Ange had ensnared a dying soul from the clutches of death and condemned him into the life of the undead.

A proverbial flush of ice cold water, the coldest and most unbearable artic coldness, washed over him as he inwardly screamed at the crime of fate he has committed.

***

He drank greedily, downright guzzled at the old copper for a time that seemed so short and yet so long to his blurred perception before he was wrenched off and thrown back onto the ground. He gave an ugly, entitled snarl that only a cheated adolescent could muster; an organism reduced to his basic components of uneasonable selfishness. His eyes, once blue, were now fiercely so, wrongly so; this blue was an intense shade not found in nature, and it rendered the rest of him ethereal and yet so alluring to the stupid ones - those who believed that those Photoshopped assemblies of pixels were accurate representations of humanity. Though whose complacency made them no better than cattle in the face of the rule that the vampirism enforced; above all else: Be Alluring. Feed.

Feed.

It was the single word in his bubbling brain before the burning kicked in, and his expression of furious challenge fell away to real, audible screaming. Writhing there on the pavement, he arched his back and howled as fresh skin cells bloomed aggressively over his wounds - in duet with this, an immeasurable agony burned through his skeleton as his being was born anew. He could not bring himself to touch any of his rapidly scabbing and re-knitting skin yet he felt he had to grab something so he clapped his hands over his ears to drown out some of the screaming. So sensitive, a newly skilled sense that could pick up the sound of arguing voices from the shitty apartments three blocks over; his own ears almost bled at the sound.

There was no throat singing here; no fascinating baubles of light. When the burning subsided he was left on the cold, hard ground with his dirty knees curled up to his chest; foetal yet terribly lucid even as tears ran down his face. His face felt tight, expressionless - the wrinkles of his humanity, so small and yet so significant, were gone. He would not find that out until later, and yet it would only drive the knife deeper.

"I'm supposed to be dead," he announced in a voice that was raw and wet like something from a horror movie. Having sealed the outside perimeter, the thing (virus?) inside him was still working away on his insides, and the tears in his throat had been deep and difficult to repair with all the yelling. He shuddered, almost praying for it. "Dead."

***

He lolled his head to the side to watch Ras with interest as the newly made vampire tried to grasp the changes that came with being turned over. It was overwhelming and mind blowing when everything and anything that could be perceived was absorbed by the senses by tenfold of more. The excessive perception was an annoyance with all sights, sounds and smells becoming so distinguishable and demanded to be paid attention to all at once. Ange could only imagine the discomfort of the sensory overload that took over right after gaining a sense of consciousness after the beast gave way after having been fed and filled.

A small smile graced his features as he commented inwardly at how rough and wild around the edges. The brawler grasped and grabbed senselessly, harshly to placate and express himself. Ange would have to rectify that by teaching him the limits and bounds of his strength. As a bonus, he would also make him learn about grace and discipline to add a touch of finesse to his actions. It was painful watching him move. Ange could feel himself wince in pain and cringe deep inside at how feral the teenager was then after.

The brunet stifled a chuckle. Then again, what else a reaction was to be expected from someone who was turned over without their permission. Not to mention, no warning or red flags were hoisted to allow Rasputin the mental preparation of what was to come. He nodded at the statement. Yes, you are dead. You're a vampire now. I made you, he said to himself. Ange sounded young with a deep, clear voice. He made no attempt to hide the laughter in his gone as responded.

"I apologize. I did not mean to laugh. It's cute that you're positing out the obvious," the boy explained, as he waved his wounded wrist at him as if to banish the laughter that dared to escape.

"You ARE dead. You have no pulse." He inched towards the other and grabbed his hand, planting it square right where Ras' heart should be. "No heartbeat here either." After counting a good amount to five, Ange dropped the other's hand and moved closer to his child, sitting on the edges of his leather loafers with knees drawn to his chest. The vampire seemed hesitant, despite he was stronger, older and more in control. Something about seeing the beast in the face still made his blood run cold. He began to rock himself a little, back and forth and continued, "You're undead now. Not quite alive, but pretty much dead."

***

Ras didn't understand what was happening. His greater consciousness slipped back into control to the tune of childish laughter, and he rolled over and got up on all fours with a pitiful groan, silver hair shrouding his eyes (silky now, it wasn't meant to be like that, it rarely succumbed to gravity) as he peered over at the source of the voice.

What was this? If this was some kind of reaper in the afterlife it was a cruel joke. His displeasure was written all over his face as he grimaced and straightened up.

"How can you say something like that?" he asked defensively, "It doesn't make sense." His blue eyes followed the moving hand and traced the edges of the wound. The memory of lukewarm copper in his mouth came to him with a shudder. Rather than repulsion, his belly gave a twang of desire.

Feed

"I don't want to," he muttered quietly, and even that sound reverberated around his ear drums. It was getting better; the vampirism was adaptive by insidious design, but the world still seemed to sway like the child did as he struggled to regain his equilibrium.

Despite himself, he struggled to get up onto his feet with all the energy of a haggard, battle-weary warrior. He didn't make it far before his hand was grabbed. He looked disturbed, but he waited tensely to feel the familiar thrum of his heart. Nothing.

"I died," he murmured, looking down at the pavement. There was a lot of blood, and some of it was definitely his. He tried to remember but he drew a blank. He felt horrible robbed of something. He snatched his hand away from the brunette.

"Don't touch me," he said coldly, trying again the get to his feet. "If I am dead, you're the reason."

***

It doesn't make sense. Nothing really does.

He felt sympathetic. He wished he had the answers himself. But alas there was no nugget of knowledge he could pass to Ras save that he was now a vampire, he was going to be that way unless he found a way to get himself killed. Until further notice, the boy would have no choice but to feed on blood regularly. That was just the tip of the iceberg of the changes that the childe would have to undergo.

The brunet's chest tightened in guilt and pity, mostly guilt. This wasn't the best way to be turned over---Rasputin was confused and lost no doubt. "I can because that's the way it is. Don't fight it. Accept your circumstances. Welcome to the thin line between the dead and the living..."

Ange bit on his lower lip in annoyance, hissing low in his throat at the rough treatment. He cast the other an irritated glance, blue violet irises suddenly rimmed in blood red to emphasize the vampire's darkening mood. Whatever feelings of loving compassion the vampire held for the childe was quickly replaced by anger right then and there. Long fingers curled into a tight fist as he exhaled deeply, not of necessity but of force of habit then forced his features into a smile, "...I didn't kill you. Pin the blame on your injuries, fool. Your injuries---," The vampire rolled his eyes and huffed, "I won't even waste my time on the specifics. You died, you came back but you're not quite human now. I brought you back."

He lifted himself to full height, which was probably not much compared to the former brawler's by comparison, but at the moment with Ras scrambling to get up, Ange had an advantage. The brunet peered at him coldly through his lashes and smile in place. A chuckle, this time cruel and condescending, tumbled from the older vampire's lips as he watched the struggle in front of him.

"It will do you no good to disrespect me. The others won't be as merciful as I can ever be and give you their time of the evening, child. So you be best docile and exercise whatever etiquette you learned in your human lifetime when you address me."

***

His injuries? He certainly didn't have any now - he was intimately familiar with the way newly-knit skin felt against his flesh and it was this feeling that he had right now. He tried to remember, but there was nothing he could recall from the past 48 hours. The long term memories were there - his name, his home, what he had spent his life doing all flipped through his head like a sorry picture book with grimy edges, but he did not remember dying.

He felt like there should be a sound around him, but there was only silence. Something was missing, and he was flooded with the innate sense that he had been robbed of something. If this kid didn't take it, then who had?!

Rather than fear at the smaller man's bitter display, bitter laughter bubbled up from bluish lips. Etiquette. The laughter swelled into a horselike, braying jeer, and he spat at the brunet. If he did not have the appearance of a child, he would have used his newfound strength to punch his face into a concave.

"DOCILE. ETIQUETTE," he repeated cruelly. "You ******** brat. Do you think we have any of that here?" he made a broad gesture at the s**t-smeared street around them, littered with broken glass and decorated only by aggressive graffiti. "The last thing I remember was giving an old man a handjob on my knees in a piss-smelling apartment just so I could eat for the night." And he was one of the lucky ones; so fortunate that he had not needed to resort to a b*****b for the extra twenty. Not yet.

"This world is full of perverts and scum. Any kindness, any innocence is crushed as soon as it blooms-"

red, red, her dress is red

His soapbox is interrupted as he lurches forward onto all fours, vomiting but not with the repulsion at the world around him that he would have liked. In his insides, the new cells taking over were still making some necessary rearrangements. He does not empty his belly - only part of it, a brackish red mess. He sniffs angrily and curses in some slavic language.

"I need a hit." He says bitterly. A bump, tab or pill - something. He did it once in a while to take the edge off - couldn't afford more often. "You want to show mercy? Bring me something."

***

He couldn't help but feel both at awe and afraid at how the silvery haired brawler could rile him up like no one can. The little vampire was known for his calm and sweet demeanor, even when housing any form of contempt for his peers. But here he was trembling in rage, with gritted teeth and blood rimmed irises. It took a lot to get under the brunet's skin but apparently, just like that the childe managed to get the older vampire pretty pissed. It was amazing as it was frightening because Ange couldn't help but feel this would not be the last that he would be in such a situation...

Deep blue eyes narrowed in disgust and contempt as Ange threw both hands up in surrender while he listened to Rasputin rave wildly. The vampire rolled his eyes.

The world IS filled with scum and perversions. You'd think I wouldn't know that by now?! Silly boy.

Nonetheless he listened on, deciding to be the bigger man and not pounce at the provocation and judgment Rasputin was passing onto him. He began to idly examine his nails and play with his undone tie that snaked around his shoulders.

"Are you done perhaps? I was growing bored of your ranting. And really now, you want a hit?" Ange raised an eyebrow in disbelief, smiling sarcastically and about to break out into laughter. "You really think a 'hit'," He paused to do air quotes. Just to show off he was in tune with this generation, "...could ever compare to 'this'?"

The vampire once again raised a sleeve, folding it to his elbow and re-opened the wound he had caused when he was turning the other over. He extended his wrist in front of the teenager's line of sight and tauntingly allowed his blood to drip from his wound and drip from his dainty wrist.

Ange watched the liquid drip from his wrist with a degree of fascination before raising his gaze upward, offering the childe a smirk as he tried to prove a point to him.

***

"<This ******** kid>..." the murmur came not in English, but in a deep, accented Slavic language that had been spoken in the shitty apartment Rasputin grew up in. His family; he could dispense with that part of his life easily, he already liked to keep as much distance from them as possible. But the rest of his life...

Huh. Now that he thought about it, he could almost laugh to himself. He hadn't had much of a life. He'd done that to himself.

Lifting his head again, he grimaced as he saw the brackish blood drizzle down the boy's porcelain wrist. He didn't want to, that was his first instinct, but already his body arched back like a cat about to strike and then he shot at the smaller figure with an inhuman speed that he was clumsily unaccustomed to, but he got the job done. He collected what had already bled out on his tongue and swallowed, sucking another mouthful straight from the wound.

"I hate you," he murmured in between his actions, running his tongue over his new, white teeth. "You did this to me. I want more, but this is blood. This is sick."

***

...What language was that?

Ange tilted his head to the side in undisguised awe at the angrily delivered spat. He had caught the quiet declaration with his heightened ears. The vampire blinked for measure then curved his lips into a soft but audible ooh at the revelation of a different spoken language. Fascinating. He was suddenly filled with a sick, childish glee. Never mind if he couldn't discern heads or tails of those spoken words. The tone was recognizably antagonistic with the right amount of acid and tang with each syllable. The brunet was willing to put his money that it was anything but an appraisal on his person.

He bit back a laugh, conceding to a small smile and a sigh of contentment when Ras began to lap at his open wound. There was something so... warm and swelling about seeing the younger vampire stumble over his proverbial shoelaces in the dirt o that slum-quiet alley. It wasn't such a great attempt with how he laughingly smiled with an escaped snicker or two. Ange was grinning widely by now, sometimes closing his eyes and easing into a soft, unreadable expression on his face while he let the other suckle him. He was humming, a low rumble of contentment from his throat.

"Hate is a strong word," Ange responded, stated in a lulling voice. He regarded the other with half-lidded eyes and a delicate smile. The vampire looked...buzzed out, like he was onto something. He looked content, seemingly taking long, leisurely exhalation with the rise and fall of his chest. "But feel free. I could care less. Besides, I wouldn't have it any other way... It's been a lifetime since someone else has been gutsy enough to stand up to me. Won't deny it, but I like that."

Still feeling a rush through his body, the brunet felt some strange need to exercise his power and impose his authority to punctuate his words. Ange pulled away, curling his wrist away from Ras' greedy lips. Enough. I've made my point. He flicked his pointer finger against the other, sending him backwards into the distance but still within earshot.

"As I said, welcome to the fine line between the life and the dead. We run under the currency of that just now so sit back, relax and enjoy your stay. It's gonna be one hell of a ride while you're here and yes, it'll be greased up with copious amounts of g blood. I hope you don't mind." Ange's eyes twinkled maliciously now, playfully as he laced his fingers behind his backside, resting his weight on one side then the other like a child. "And oh, if you haven't put one and one together yet, for whatever plebeian reason you got under your sleeves, you're a vampire now. Congrats! You're a ******** corpse now!"

Mhmm. He liked cursing. He really did. It felt natural on his tongue and it always sent him in stitches whenever people gawked at him the moment the words like ******** and s**t left the vampire's lips. Absolute mind ********.

***

Blood, yes; he knew it was blood even as he was drinking it. He could see it in his minds eye as if he was on the inside; a beautiful kaleidoscope of red-blue veins against pink and yellow flesh that shone slightly as if light was just behind them; sundwellers yes, that was the best kind although the moon would do also -

Most of the musing aloud was lost on him as he drank, and the only sound he made was the snarl when an unnaturally strong force flicked him away from his food sources and send him sliding back onto the dirty concrete. Grimacing, he dragged himself back up onto all fours and then staggered to his feet. He was not a remarkably tall man, five-eight at the most, but he towered over this ******** kid.

"I'm still hungry," he said darkly, his alarmingly blue eyes filled with malice. Brackish blood drizzled down the corners of his lips and slowly dried in a smear on his chin, but he made no move to wipe it away. This kid, he annoyed him. He used words that were too highbrow, too quick for him to completely grasp (what was plebe, was that even English? Sure as s**t wasn't Slav) and yet the smug little ******** was too strong to solve the problem just by kicking his a**. But Ras advanced anyway.

"You say I'm a vampire, huh?" he chuckled deeply in his lowbrow accent. "If I can't have drugs, then I want blood, and you're the only one around, so open up, kid."

He'd drain him if he could; not quite consciously, either. Fledglings were always unnaturally hungry and he'd lost half of his first meal on the cold ground while his insides were under repair.

***

"Of course, you're still hungry," the vampire rolled his eyes as it if were the most obvious thing. He shook his head in distate, cross his arms over his chest and pacing about in a straight line in front of the ex-brawler. "You haven't had so much a meal just now. I've only fed you just about right to sate your turning over. So yes, I wouldn't be surprised that you'd still be quite hungry." Ange raised his chin and leered the other vampire with a patronizing smirk on his face. Not the very least intimidated by how Ras towered over him or how the latter looked physically imposing.

The brunet paused mid stride and eyed him from head to toe, this smile smiling playfully and leaned forward as if sizing him up, "Interesting. So you're simply going to take my word for it than fight me about this? You're absolutely certain I'm telling you the truth than ******** with you that you're really a vampire?"

Ange hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head from side to side as if thinking deeply if only he didn't look positively amused like the proverbial cat that caught the canary. As if waiting for an reaction. But he grew bored at some point, turning away from Ras. He sighed and straightened up, waving his hand in dismissal. Puffing his cheeks, the brunet snorted, "Tch. You're no fun. And I thought you'd give me the pleasure of your denial. Oh well." The man-child picked on his discarded messenger bag and rifled through it's contents, looking for something. "At any rate, you haven't offered me your name. I doubt you'd enjoy being called 'pet'..." Ah there, band aids and some dressing. The wound on his neck was particularly nasty. Too bad he forgot his scarf so he'd have to button up his shirt to cover the dressed up wound. There was a spare shirt thankfully. He looked over his shoulder and laughed secretively, then added in a low barely inaudible, "I would enjoy that though."

He covered the after thought with a more audible laugh then turned to Ras, "Hey, you. Try and get clean your face before we go out feeding. Get it to some---semblance of clealiness of something near it. I won't have one of mine looking like a mess when we go. I'll dress my wounds and change into a different shirt." Without warning, Ange flung a face towel at the brawler while he busied himself in covering up the evidence of the boy's feeding. He wasn't particularly attentive at the force he used, knowing it wouldn't kill him anyway.





 
 
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