Video -- And the Moon Shall Turn to Blood

[just_displaced]

[The room is dimly lit, only one light in the room casting flickering shadows from the furniture onto the walls. At first, it's difficult to tell what the video could possibly be recording, since there doesn't appear to be anyone in the room.

Several moments later, however, when the door opens and a NPC man walks in, it becomes obvious that this is someone's apartment. And there's something moving in the shadows in the corner, something that slowly seems to be taking form where previously, there was nothing there at all. It appears to be a form, a form that seems to be made up of shadows itself, except that it's slightly darker than the shadows around it.

Slowly, it begins to move, spreading from the corner, taking on the distinct shape of a man, and then the shadow is moving more quickly. By the time it reaches the NPC man who's headed for the light switch to illuminate the place, it's taken on an almost solid form. Swiftly, the shadow wraps itself around the man, enveloping him, not giving him time to cry out. Within seconds, it's as though the shadow form has absorbed the man entirely, and the man slumps to the floor, seemingly lifeless.

The shadow's form is stronger now, sharper around the edges, and perhaps recognizable to those who have met him before. With no backward glances at the man lying on the floor, the shadow seems to float across the room, then out the door into the dark streets, looking for its next victim.]

[[OOC: Ginsberg is essentially a shadow monster, capable of attacking and draining the life from people, but it's not a permanent state -- he shifts back and forth, and when he's in the light, looks perfectly normal and corporeal. When he's in shadow, however... this is what you get. Feel free to run into him on the streets, or see this particularly pleasant attack on video.]]

Comments

[just_displaced]

[Ginsberg is in the shadows, or perhaps more accurately, he's part of the shadows. It's hard to distinguish where he ends and the shadows begin, and he's moving slowly, not sure what he's seeking, only knowing that he's driven by hunger of some kind.

He senses Frankie. He doesn't necessarily see him. But he knows something is there, something potentially dangerous. Or something to feed on.

The shadows shift slightly around him.]

[good_at_this]

[Frankie never minded light, when he was dead; sunlight, of course, was to be avoided at all costs (one burn is enough to sear that permanently into your mind) but he'd found it comforting, as many did, to live in a well-lit space, pretending nothing had changed in the shift from diurnal life to nocturnal undeath.

Now, though, starved and pushed beyond the point of any lingering humanity, it's instinct that propels him, and instinct prefers the darkness. It's comfortable. Familiar.

Which is what gives him the sense that something's wrong. Frankie pauses, looks around him, a corner of his lip drawn back from too-sharp teeth.]

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[If Frankie looks closely, he may see the way the shadows seem to take on the form of a man. It's indistinct at first, easy to overlook, but as Ginsberg moves closer to Frankie, trying to determine whether Frankie is a viable target, he becomes more solid, until he's the darkest shadow among all the other shadows.

Before he reaches Frankie, though, he stops, slows his progress, because there's something about him that isn't right, something different from the humans Ginsberg has been attacking all evening -- although he doesn't see it as attacking, not really.

The shadow hesitates, within touching distance of Frankie, but not coming any closer, not wrapping around him. Not yet, at least.]

[good_at_this]

[If he had hackles, they'd raise. He hunches down a bit, his shoulders back, weighing fight or flight. There's nothing rational about it; really, even that instinctual response is untrustworthy, overwhelmed as he is by the gnawing hunger.

There's something there; if it bleeds, he'll try to eat it. He's desperate enough not to care what. His skin is marred, torn here and there in bloodless wounds, his ears tapering back to a ragged point.

He takes a step back, but he's not running. His face twists into a snarl.]

[just_displaced]

[As luck would have it, this apparition doesn't bleed at all, not unless it's dragged out into the light. Something in the shadow seems to sense a threat, though, implicit in those bared, too-sharp teeth, and doesn't drift closer, doesn't dare to come out of the protective layer of darkness.

Still, the shape is almost solid now, and noticeably human. That alone might encourage Frankie to attempt an attack.]

[good_at_this]

[With a low growl, Frankie tries his luck, rushing at the man-shaped thing, intending to pin it against the wall.]

[just_displaced]

[Part of the problem with attacking shadowy forms is just that -- they're made up of shadows. The man-shaped shadow disintegrates and reforms behind Frankie, almost completely soundlessly. If he were himself, he'd be scared at the way he'd just been attacked, but he isn't himself, and there's no noise of fear, even being rushed like that.]

[good_at_this]

[He's decidedly displeased, though not entirely shocked. Whatever this person-- if it's a person at all-- is, there's something wrong about it.

Still snarling, he wheels around, hunched over.]

[just_displaced]

[There's something wrong about Frankie, too, from his perspective -- he wants to drain what energy he can from anyone he can get ahold of, but he can't seem to form into a shadow strong enough to wrap around Frankie, although he does try for a moment, drifting towards Frankie, arms like tendrils of shadow reaching out, almost like they're testing the water to see whether it's safe.]

sorry im so slow action threads are haaaard

[good_at_this]

[Safe? Probably not. Anything solid enough to touch, he'll grab at, teeth bared and gnashing, trying to bite and tear. There's little logic to it-- this is half the reaction of a cornered animal, and half the inescapable, gnawing hunger, a desperation for blood which has driven many a vampire to gnaw his own wrists.]

Re: Dude, they are hard.

[just_displaced]

[They seem to be at a strange impasse -- he can't become solid enough to get ahold of Frankie, because Frankie will undoubtedly try to grab him and bite at him, but he has a stubborn refusal to back down, a hunger for energy that he can't ignore, and he's not thinking clearly enough to recognize that Frankie must have a similar, desperate hunger, one that almost guarantees that he won't back down, either.

So he dodges and weaves, not letting Frankie get ahold of him, not able to envelop Frankie the way he wants to, growing ever more frustrated.]

[good_at_this]

[For his part, Frankie isn't enjoying this any more than Ginsberg is, but the longer the struggle the less willing to back down he is. That's a different sort of instinct; he doesn't want to let the competition live.]

[just_displaced]

[Eventually, he has to acknowledge that this is going to be ineffective. He won't back down entirely, but he moves as far away from Frankie as he can, regrouping in the darkest part of the shadows. He'd be breathing hard if he were fully human, but he seems to have an unusual amount of energy in this form.]

What are you?

[Apparently, he's still capable of speech. It comes out slow and distorted, but it's a more human question than he'd meant to ask. The monster part of his brain isn't fully in control, after all.]

[good_at_this]

[It's a question that doesn't make any sense to him; or wouldn't, if he were in any shape to make sense of anything. He's starving-- near enough to starving to be more animal than human. He isn't breathing hard because, unless he draws one to make a sound, he doesn't breathe to begin with.

He is what everyone is. He doesn't know anything else, and doesn't know what he's facing down.

So, a low and menacing growl is his only reply.]

[just_displaced]

[He has no idea what he's facing down, either, though if he could think more logically, he might realize that, of course, this thing is trying to eat him, and he might be afraid. As it is, he's nothing more than frustrated, and becoming aware that there's no way he can possibly win this confrontation.

So instead of prolonging this, instead of facing down this menacing, growling, thing, he turns, with the intention of leaving, of floating away, of seeking out easier prey.]

[good_at_this]

[He might make a halfhearted lunge after the shadow-thing, but if there's nothing to grab, to bite, to tear, there's not much he can do.]