welcome to mayfield: day 3

[mayfield_mods]

[Those who wake up in the town on the third day will soon notice that something's definitely off. The cracks in the sky are appearing more frequently and lasting for minutes at a time, and there's a strange white fog drifting over the clouds.

For those who've just arrived, welcome to our new little town! We're sure you're glad to see your missing friends again; nothing to worry about here, they've just been too busy enjoying the upgraded carnival to go back home. Any bleeding limbs or serious wounds you may spot are obviously just a sign of how much fun they've been having.]

OOC: If your character damages or affects the carnival or town in a noticeable and normally permanent way, please comment here.

Comments

[spitefulvitae]

I believe several have tried. We've got clever ones in here. But they're not working with much material. The houses aren't furnished.

You seem to have little faith in everyone's ability to cope...

[She quirks her head at him, huffs lightly, and then shrugs.]

I have my own places to retreat to.

[velesdonnersen]

[Eyes her sourly.]

There are intelligent people here. But, please! It was people of Mayfield who blew up the resurrection machine--the one device that made this all endurable and even somewhat frivolous--with no idea what it was, because, well, better to blow things up.

Just *how* intelligent am I supposed to think they are, mademoiselle?

[Sighs, and wilts...]

My pardons. I am...

[He's nearly inside out over Ilsa, fearing for her life. And he's angry, and tired, and giving more and more thought to ways to break through and communicate with the Powers of Mayfield...]

Pardon. My temper betrays me.

I'm glad you have refuge, mademoiselle. If you need me, I am going to try to find Ilsa. Failing that I'll be at the church.

Du-te cu fulgere, doamnă.

[spitefulvitae]

"People of Mayfield" is hardly an all-inclusive category. It was likely a small selection of idiots that blew... whatever it was up.

[She turns away from him. Really, the way he's going on, he might as well be including her with the morons and fools.]

Do what you need to do. Go, go on. I have my own matters under control.

[velesdonnersen]

[He's a chivalrous fool. It's inbred and it's personal. He almost stomps off....but...]

Tcheh.

Do you wish for company?

[It's a gentle offer...]

[spitefulvitae]

Not particularly. It's in your best interest to keep your distance. I'm getting hungry.

[She shoots him a look from over her shoulder that's full of anger and hunger and a bit (just a bit) of regret.]

You'll do more good if you find other people. Go do some good.

[velesdonnersen]

[Not quite ready to leave--instead very dry, professional, and "doctory".]

Are you able to control your attack and break off? Do your victims always die? Do they always transform?

[Yes. He's weighing the odds. He's here, he's stuck regardless, and she's starving... He might gamble to save her life. Maybe.]

[spitefulvitae]

[Oh. The basic vampire interrogation. She turns around, rolling her eyes dramatically when she's finally facing him again.]

Yes, assuming I'm not starving, I can make myself stop. If I take enough blood, the obvious happens. If I leave them enough, they're fine. They do not transform.

[And like hell this guy is getting further elaboration on that last one.]

[velesdonnersen]

[He nods. He's learned what he needed to learn. Rather than speak, he nods again, and gently, gently opens his arms slightly, inviting her into his embrace. He meets her eyes.]

Hunger is not necessary,doamnă.

What I give, I give freely.

[spitefulvitae]

...oh.

[She would call him an idiot, mock him for his willingness to give himself over to a monster, but... blood. Blood without effort, human blood. This was a gift that she shouldn't refuse.

Her expression becomes milder and she approaches him... and takes his left arm.]

That's very kind of you. Let's not make too big a scene, though. A vein's a vein's a vein...

[And she'll be rolling up that sleeve of his, if he doesn't protest.]

[velesdonnersen]

[He's a bit bashful, a bit flustered, but entirely cooperative. His arm offers no resistance.]

[Softly...]

You're welcome, doamnă .

[spitefulvitae]

[She makes a little sound of confirmation, and then sinks her fangs into a soft spot on his forearm. There's pain, a moment of intense someone-just-bit-me-and-broke-the-flesh pain, which is quickly smothered by an astonishingly pleasant sensation. A pleasantness that's marred by her unpleasant scent and the general wrongness of her... but a pleasantness that would give him little reason to pull away or fight it.

Several long, wonderful mouthfuls of blood later and she pulls away. She licks her lips, then licks the wound, which closes it up neatly.]

Aaaaaaaah...

[And she looks just a bit better already. Less cold, less brittle.]

[velesdonnersen]

[He studies the closed skin over her bite with interest.]

Amazing. Can that be used to heal in other circumstances? You could be a great healer, if so.

Eh. I am a Spark. Always too interested in the Science(!).

Will you be better, now?

[spitefulvitae]

No. Only my own bites.

[She also looks a tad more relaxed. Though not too much more impressed with him. Great. Science.]

I'll be better for a while, I think. Human blood gets me a lot further than rats. As long as this place doesn't give me reason to need to exert myself much.

[velesdonnersen]

[He can tell she's not impressed.]
[Dry]

Science(!) in my world is a match for any wampyr, doamnă. I would not make such a face if I were you.

However...

If you're ready, I...

I want to find Ilsa.

[He yearns to find Ilsa...]

[spitefulvitae]

Mm, but this isn't your world, is it? It isn't either of our worlds. [She gives another little shrug. This really wasn't the point of the exercise, getting snippy about personal codes of belief...]

I'm as ready as I'll ever be. If you want to search... then we'll search.