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[never_very_good]

i.

When Frankie picks up a shift at the Raven, he tries to take the last one. It's partly that his sleep schedule has never normalized, mostly that he likes walking home after dawn. He's been here for years, now, but he still spends as much time in the light as he can. He likes being able to go out in less than full riot gear.

It's still dark above, though, when he finds himself staring too long at the glass he's just poured for a patron before sliding it across the bartop. She gives him a funny look, but doesn't say anything; regulars are used to the oddity of a human bartender serving up blood. He takes her glass when she's gone; without thinking, certainly without planning to, he swipes a finger along the inside of it and licks it clean.


ii.

This early the streets aren't too crowded; the City's never really calm but maybe this is the closest it comes. Frankie's still feeling a little off, which is why he doesn't head straight home once he closes up. He could use a run. He's tired, but not weary enough to get some sleep. He could use to clear his head.

So he runs, aimless; he glances at strangers as he does and pauses now and then, lost in uncertain thought, always in a patch of direct sunlight, hands folded and subtly pressing his fingers against his wrist.


iii.

By late afternoon, and doubly so by the time it's dark again, Frankie's given up trying to rationalize any of this. He doesn't wonder what it means, or worry about the consequences. Buried instincts keep him to the shadows as the day drags on, watching passers-by, waiting for one weak enough to take or desirable enough to fight for to cross his path. He eyes their throats with a painful longing, as sharp as any he'd felt when he was dead, but wholly in his mind rather than his body. These are pangs of desire, not hunger; it's not only the blood he covets, but the lean curves of their necks, the hot chaos of a gaping wound. The thrill of violence.

He waits, he stalks. He strikes.



[ooc; tl;dr OPEN ACTION, he'll be getting progressively more violent and bloodthirsty... literally... although he isn't actually gone all vampy-- just cursed, so not contagious. Please let me know if you're character is up for injury and/or death; otherwise feel free to make a successful escape. PM &c with any questions! <3

today is NYCC so all tags will likely be later / tomorrow, sorry kittens <3 I backtag forever.]

Comments

iii

[eiremagic]

[He strikes, and it's Eden, except it's not Eden. Her eyes are black, there's an expression on her face that isn't common, and she stares back up at him as he has his hands on her-]

I don't think any magistrate would approve, Frankie.

iii

[never_very_good]

[Eden has seen him turned, before; she's seen him starving. The difference, this curse, is an edge of cruelty he never quite had, even at his worst. He'd savored the blood, killing Alison, but he'd believed-- he'd told himself-- it would be better for her, after. He'd regretted it while he watched her burn.

This is different. He looks at her, eyes narrowed.]

Like I give a fuck who approves?

[He loves Eden. He wants her because he loves her.]

[eiremagic]

Of course you do. The guilt is practically drawn into every pore of your skin.

[She says that so casually, but there's an odd flavor to her words.]

Are you going to eat me?

[never_very_good]

[He should care. He'll care tomorrow; he'll be sick with guilt then, in more ways than one.]

Planning on it,

[he affirms, breathing hard and leaning in. He might kiss her, any other day. He's going to run his tongue along her throat today. Anticipatory. Hungry.]

[eiremagic]

[She has a nosebleed, then, slight, an aftereffect of turning her own blood to acid, changing her organs to accommodate it for the time it'll remain that way.]

We won't forgive you for this, you know.

[never_very_good]

[It catches his eye. It leaves him uncertain, because he doesn't know what he wants more-- easy blood ought to be the easy answer. That's an old and buried instinct. His body knows that better than his brain; but it's not only the blood he wants.]

I have to.

[eiremagic]

Do you think that will make a difference?

iii. closed to Jimmy and Frankie

[anunluckypenny]

[The sun has set by the time Penny and Jimmy head home from a (strictly platonic) dinner together. Rather, Penny is heading home; Jimmy has graciously offered to escort her there, for which she is grateful. Although an evening out has soothed her nerves somewhat, she's not exactly keen on walking alone through the City at night. Not during October.

They're talking easily, Penny happier and more animated than she has been all month. He might not believe it of himself, but Jimmy is good company.

The shadows are long and dark as the moon, half-full, rises over the City's rooftops. There aren't many people out and about, and most of Penny's attention is focused on her companion. Something moving in the shadows certainly wouldn't catch her eye, and she definitely didn't think to wear a turtleneck in case of a vampire attack.]

Re: iii. closed to Jimmy and Frankie

[trenchknives]

[Jimmy likes spending time with Penny, likes the chance to go out to dinner with her and to walk her home and not to think about the fact that it's October and that apparently people have been seeing some pretty strange things in the mirrors lately. He hasn't, so he tries to keep it out of his mind as they head back towards her apartment.]

So, what'd you think of the dinner? I thought it was pretty good, but y'know, there're so many restaurants in the City, I feel like I gotta keep tryin' new ones every time I go out.

[It's idle chatter, really, but that's what's keeping them both happy and distracted right now, and he's not keeping a wary eye out for any danger.]

iii. closed to Jimmy and Frankie

[anunluckypenny]

[For her part, Penny hasn't mentioned the frightening sights that seem to be following her around via mirrors and glass (and her soup spoon, and--). Maybe if she forgets them, they'll leave her alone. That tactic has never worked well on her problems before, but hope springs eternal.]

It was really good--at least ten times better than the leftovers I'd've had if I would've stayed home. And the waiter was super nice. Five stars? Yeah, I'd give it five stars.

Re: iii. closed to Jimmy and Frankie

[trenchknives]

Yeah, it was good, but the waiter was super nice 'cause he thought you were attractive, I'm pretty sure.

[He has to grin at her, because she is attractive, but there's every likelihood that she hadn't noticed the waiter flirting with her at all. Besides, the waiter had probably assumed that she and Jimmy were together. A reasonable assumption, he supposes, considering how close they've grown.]

iii. closed to Jimmy and Frankie

[anunluckypenny]

No way.

[But she's flattered, and it gets a laugh out of her. Flirting goes over her head unless it's ridiculously obvious and romance always leads to more disaster than it's worth.

Which is why she doesn't have a hand on Jimmy's arm. Penny likes having a physical connection to people and, with any other friend, she probably wouldn't have thought twice about it. Ever since Lucy tried to set her up on a date with Jimmy, however, she's been wondering if that might not be such a bad idea. They get along really well, he's (essentially) a good, caring person, and she already cares about him. Would it really be so bad to step it up a level? The answer's probably yes. Whenever Penny introduces romantic love to a situation, it inevitably explodes (sometimes literally, and sometimes fatally). In an attempt to dissuade herself from developing romantic notions, she's trying to keep everything platonic. Aggressively, if need be.]

People can be good without any ulterior motives. ...Or they could be angling for a good tip.

Re: iii. closed to Jimmy and Frankie

[trenchknives]

Well, I mean, it worked, right? He got a good tip from us.

[He grins at her, because really, if he'd been that waiter, he'd've been flirting with her, too. He tries to be on his best behavior around her as it is, because he's pretty sure she's not interested in him that way. Would he jump at the chance if he had it? Probably, but he's always been opportunistic. Thus far, though, she hasn't shown any inclinations towards flirting with him, and he's not likely to push it.]

Anyway, we'll try a new place next time. Y'know, until we've tried every place around here. Sounds like a plan worthy of our time to me.

iii - up for injury, but he is a dangerous prey; hope this is okay...

[67chevyimpala]

[Dean, like many people new to the City, is still getting his bearings. He has a pretty good sense of direction, but isn't entirely sure of the neighbourhood he's walking through. His Hunter instincts are telling him to be careful and he's keeping alert, but his left leg is still giving him some grief and his neck and shoulders are tight. He rolls his Head from side to side a few times to try and loosen it up. A few beers
In his system, but that's peanuts to what he can handle.

Mmm. Peanuts. So he's a little distracted...]

iii - that's fine, he's welcome to get a few good (non-lethal) hits in and then make a getaway?

[never_very_good]

[Injured prey is easy prey. Every living thing knows that; the weak know not to show it, the strong know what to look for. Frankie, operating tonight on bloodthirst and the memory of ten years spent hunting humans, has been waiting for such an opportune moment.

He's been standing in the shade of a doorway, waiting and watching. When the stranger turns away, Frankie strikes, rushing him, teeth bared.]

iii - a few good (non-lethal) hits, sure, if that's okay; Dean might take more injury than Frankie

[67chevyimpala]

[Dean is a few seconds too late to avoid a tackle from behind. He goes down on one knee, his left one, dammit, yells at the pain, and jabs back, hard, with his elbow at his attacker.]

iii - sure! i just have to keep Frankie reasonably intact for thread continuity. ^^;

[never_very_good]

[Frankie takes the elbow hard in the ribs. It knocks the wind out of him-- which shouldn't be a problem, his brain insists, but bloodthirst or not he's no dead man tonight.

He can't gather the breath to shout his rage, so he kicks at the other man-- aiming it at the bent knee.]

iii - totally understand! :D

[67chevyimpala]

[Oh, that isn't good at all. He howls again and goes down to the ground in agony. He rolls onto his back, his right leg ready to kick or push his attacker away. He also gets a better look at the guy this way. He can't help but exclaim when he sees the look on the guy's face. He's seen similar looks before.

Sonofabitch!

iii

[never_very_good]

[He doesn't take any time to gloat. Frankie drops to a crouch, leaning the bulk of his weight on one of Dean's shoulders, grabbing the other man's chin with his free hand to try and expose his throat.]

iii -- a-okay for hurting

[sleepingstar]

[This is the first night her brother has let her out into the Underground without cloying supervision for awhile. She's happy. Pai loves the Underground, feels almost at home there, though she looks anything but. She is a bright flash of pure innocence and apparent vulnerability.]




[ooc: Please do injure her seriously. ♥ (For one thing, if he doesn't, she'll probably try to electrocute him to death. XD)]

iii

[never_very_good]

[Frankie couldn't care less if she's innocent, or if she's happy. She's smaller than he is, and that's enough to catch his eye. It's not been an easy night thus far.

He doesn't stalk after her; he waits for her to pass, and when he does he throws himself on her.]

iii

[sleepingstar]

[There was a time when Frankie never would have gotten the drop on her. By the time his skin met hers, it would be sizzling with electricity. He would have been dead before he could open his mouth.

Months of peace have dulled her reflexes, and she has used her ability so little that for a moment, panic makes her forget how to even call it up. Contractors don't panic. Except she isn't just a Contractor. She's also a child who has never been far from her brother's protection.

She's mauled, bleeding, weak by the time she remembers how to call up her power. Except it's too late. The shock she sends is little worse than a static jolt, and then she passes out.]

iii

[never_very_good]

[None of this is personal. In a way, it's barely even conscious; he's acting on impulse and instinct, on a sort of hunger. A false hunger, to be sure; at least when he'd been dead, he was able to sate himself. When he was starving, blood had given him some measure of rationality, even if (by the end) you couldn't call it humanity.

Once she's down, he tears into her much more easily than he has his other victims tonight, body adjusting to the resistance of human flesh in the absence of fangs, and he laps at her blood with a hellish, animalistic glee. The shock makes him twitch, but does nothing to deter him, really.

iii

[mortemscintilla]

[ A bit of slack in one place only means the screws are tightening further down the line. ]

[ Hei's let Pai wander off Underground, yes. But he didn't specify how long he'd leave her alone. In alien circumstances, people tend to cling to habit. Hei has seldom had the luxury of developing anything so predictable as habits. Even so, he finds himself defaulting to his usual approach. Keeping Pai in his protective crosshairs. Seated at a sidewalk caff, kitty-corner to the Casino, he nurses their eponymous coffee, an admittedly vile cream-based infusion, snacking on some of their light fare, and reading a book so he doesn't look like a sentry. From his vantagepoint, he sees Pai clearly -- a splash of whiteness on the gritty streets. He can't help frowning at her innocence, though. She isn't cataloging all the angles of the street, let alone checking the surveillance hot spots. If she was, she'd make Frankie in a heartbeat. He's lurking exactly where you expect -- not prowling but lying in wait. ]

[ Hei sees him, though. Not that it matters. By the time Frankie attacks, it's already too late. ]

[ He's not getting any younger, but Hei has two advantages. First, he's always been unusually quick -- partly the result of genetics, partly of obsessive training. Second, he can go from eerie silence to explosive violence without any of the usual precursors. The signs people know to look for -- obvious ones, like footsteps, words, gesticulating, and other posturing -- he doesn't exhibit. He can hurt enemies, or worse, and the only sign they have of what's coming is that he's close enough to do it. ]

[ Frankie won't hear more than a rustle, before someone appears behind him. Hei's palm curls around the back of his skull. The tang of ozone fills the air, before blue spikes of electricity flare from his fingers. It's not enough to kill. But it's no act of mercy, either. Hei isn't sure what this man's deal is -- cursed, insane, drugged -- but he wants him alive, so there's the possibility of a slow and ugly death later. ]

iii

[never_very_good]

[There will come a moment when a slow and ugly death is what Frankie thinks he deserves, though it will never be what he wants. He'll be glad for the interference, absolutely. One less death (however impermanent) on his conscience is worth the headache.

He won't even hear the rustle; he's not listening, preoccupied as he is with his feast. Nothing registers. He's hit, and he falls.

It's likely for the best.]