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Post by OZYMANDIAS GERARD PROPHET on May 2, 2019 2:57:32 GMT 1
Ozymandias wiped the blood from his mouth, his head dropping back so that he could look up at the stairs above him, a laugh escaping his lips. The stairs meant little to him, but by God was he satisfied. He'd been at Manson since March 23rd, which was a little over a month now and so far he'd patiently survived off of blood bags, but tonight was different. Tonight he'd found himself a willing donor and there blood had tasted so sweet against his tongue. The taste was a mixture of blood and chocolate. It had been so long since he'd picked up the slightest hint of anything formerly edible in anyone's blood. The guy must have spent his whole life eating chocolate or something. Whatever the case was, Ozymandias didn't quite care. He was full, that was the only thing that mattered.
"Best you run along before the both of us wind up locked away," Ozymandias mused, a bit drunk off of the first real taste of blood in so long. He slowly stood up, patting the guy on the head. "I will seek you out again if I so wish to break the rules once more, and you shall be compensated quite well. Perhaps even better than this time. Who knew that blood could taste of chocolate." He swiped his tongue around his lips savoring the taste. How he hadn't drained the man dry was beyond him. "Tata for now." Ozzy started up the stairs, not really paying much mind for he'd noticed that there was a bit of blood on his shirt, that was unfortunately white. "Mmm, Mother always said I was a messy eater. I suppose things don't change much, even when you're undead. Pity me...." Oz was in the middle of the stairwell when he heard footsteps coming from above him. His gaze shifter upwards immediately. "Shit," he muttered, stepping back down. "Please don't be a guard." He glanced over his shoulder. He could hide under the stairs, but if his donor was still half dazed down there, it would look even worse if they got caught.
The vampire scuffed. "Damn it, what do I do? What do I do?" Act casual seemed like a long stretch, but Ozzy pulled out his phone, leaning against the windowsill as he started typing out a random text. His gaze focused on his phone and his phone only. Maybe whoever was coming down would think he was too busy to engage in conversation.
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on May 11, 2019 20:20:27 GMT 1
Blood dripped from his fingertips, the steady sound loud to his sensitive hearing as he walked almost numbly through an empty hall. The wendigo knew that he was probably being captured on one of the many cameras but so far nobody was racing down the halls to recapture him. This wasn't an escape attempt though, he wasn't running, he wasn't fighting, all of the blood upon him was his own.. His restraints had carved their way into his wrists before the metal had given and he was loose. He wasn't somebody to tie up like an animal.. But he was starving. Admittedly it didn't take him long to get to this state, a few days at most without a suitable meal but that didn't retract from the fact that his stomach was turning in knots for something fresh and warm to fill it. He was no newly born creature though, he could control himself from salivating like an animal and chasing down the nearest heartbeat.
Subconsciously he probably was looking for the perfect meal even though he told himself he was not.. Over one hundred years of this life and he was learning to pick and choose his kills. It was only because of the sharp nose of a shifter passing outside his home that had resulted in him being caught.. Before that he'd thought he'd been doing quite well for himself. A smirk like smile crossed his lips and a breath of amusement came from his nose as wiped his hands upon his shirt. His fellow employee's, the police, would have investigated his home after his disappearance and found the remains of those he'd fed upon. Such a shame, he'd had so much meat just waiting to be consumed.
His stomach twisted again at the thought and wiped that smirk from his lips and he turned suddenly into the stairwell with a growl of utter frustration.
Which was when he smelt the telltale scent of freshly spilt blood. His pupils constricted and his teeth sharpened instinctively, Fritz barely noticed the pulseless vampire as he passed him on the stairwell because before he was all too aware of what he was doing the Wendigo had his teeth buried into the soft flesh of the curve of the wounded individual's neck. He was ripping away large chunk after chunk, swallowing repetitively and greedily. His claw like fingers tore at material, ripping cloth and skin with an oddly similar sound, though the flesh sounded a lot more wet as it ripped beneath his strength. How much time had passed by? He wasn't sure. But eventually (around a minute later) he sat back on his ass beneath the stairwell and began sucking his fingers clean one by one as his humanity melted back into place, leaving him sat looking rather satiated and calm despite the blood and slightly thicker things now staining his chin and shirt.
He'd always been a messy eater but with arterial spray and raw flesh it's difficult to stay clean. Fritz was in the process of sucking off the blood from his thumb when he spotted Oz and he slowly pulled the digit from his mouth as his gaze looked the guy up and down, "... When the fuck'd you get here?" Eloquent. But he didn't know this individual. Would he have to prevent him from running off and ruining this blissful little afterglow of a finally full tummy? It had been weeks.. It felt glorious.
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Post by OZYMANDIAS GERARD PROPHET on May 12, 2019 13:06:16 GMT 1
As the newcomer passed him by, Ozzy dipped his head a bit. The scent of blood coming from the other male was hardly noticeable while he was still happily intoxicated with chocolate flavored blood in his mouth. Not intoxicated in the sense that his donor had been a raging alcoholic, oh no, Ozymandias would never feed on someone like that. He was drunk off of fresh, delicious blood. It was as if he'd hit cloud nine after months of sipping on sewer water. The vampire started up the stairs, working on the theory of out of sight, out of mind. His room wasn't too far away. He could get there without being seen. If he didn't think he'd end up in trouble, it would have been a game.
He was only three steps up when a surprised yelp bounced off the walls only to end abruptly. Oz may not have smelt the newcomer, but the scent of blood and chocolate filled his nose, and that he recognized. The vampire found himself clearing the stairs to get back to his donor, stopping at the bottom with a look of pure horror on his face. He had never seen anything so primal. It was both fascinating and deterring, but above all, it pissed him off. The vampire had paid good money to feed on that donor, money he barely had after the divorce, paying child support, having his name dragged through the mud, and currently having zero incoming income. Now the guy was gone, reduced to flesh and muscle and meatier things. It all happened so fast that Ozzy hadn't even had time to consider stopping this thing from tearing the other apart.
The vampire's expression was nothing short of disgusted as the man seemed to return to his senses. The guy even had the audacity to ask when he'd arrived. "I've been here the whole time you savage," the vampire commented, his voice edged with annoyance. "Do you have any idea what you've done!? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a donor whose blood taste like actual food!?" Ozzy shook his head. "What kind of monster tears someone apart like that for no reason!? Are you a fucking lunatic?"
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on May 13, 2019 14:44:33 GMT 1
Fritz had been practically starved since he'd come to Manson, they couldn't quite figure out how much meat he required to keep the monster inside satisfied and so it had been a long, rocky road. Obviously, considering the flesh he needs, they'd started him on the absolute bare minimum and so he'd been nothing much but a warped and twisted version of himself. His mind locked away and tortured behind an overwhelming tidal wave of pure unadulterated hunger. Slowly they'd increased his portion size, enough for him to be somewhat lucid for a short while after eating, enough to talk, enough to look human enough for them to listen to him. It had somewhat worked, he felt on the verge of madness half of the time. He thought it was torture. They look at him and think 'monster'. A cannibalistic creature just can't catch a break in this world.
Oz's expression mirrored hundreds of others he'd seen in his time and so he did what he usually did to them, the man smirked and rolled his eyes a little. His stomach was full, strength ran through his veins and god damn he felt like he could run a marathon or something, it had only been weeks but he'd already forgotten just how good it felt to have a stomach full.. He didn't care about this idiot's blathering rant about 'do you have any idea..?' blah, blah..
"Do you have any idea how little I care about either of those things?" Very clearly not at all. In fact, it amused him more than anything that this guy was so very offended by what he'd done. Perhaps if he hadn't bled the guy in a place where somebody might smell and attempt to sink teeth into him again then this may not have happened. Fritz pulled the sleeves of his jumped out a little and breathed out in satisfaction, he'd healed over. It was amazing what a little boost of energy could do for a supernatural being.
He sat forward a little and cocked an eyebrow, "no reason, you say? I'm a fucking Wendigo and I was hungry. Be grateful it wasn't your sluggish heart beating on borrowed blood that caught my attention." Or he would have almost ripped his head off instead, he smiled next, probably not a very friendly expression considering the massacre but it was there none the less, "'actual food'? And you think I'm the lunatic," he barked out a sharp laugh, "tastes like 'actual food'," he muttered mostly to himself with mirth as he reached out for a small chunk of flesh and popped it into his mouth. He chewed contently whilst he mused over it, "what'd he taste of to you, then? Cake? He is kind of sweet.. I wonder if he was diabetic?"
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Post by OZYMANDIAS GERARD PROPHET on May 14, 2019 1:15:44 GMT 1
Did he just smirk and roll his eyes at me? There were a million other things that followed that thought, none of which were appropriate or kind. He was taken aback by the response. Why he thought the guy would pay him any mind when he was wolfing down an entire human being was beyond him. This man clearly lacked any remorse, so having a conversation with him should have seemed pointless from the start. Ozymandias was known to do questionable things, and this was one of them. If he'd have known that Fritz had been drawn to the blood, he probably would have felt more guilty than pissed off. Ignorance truly was bliss.
"And I'm a fucking vampire, but you don't see me running around here like yippie ki yay let's rip some throats out," he retorted. Hunger was hardly an excuse for mauling someone to death. Ozymandias hadn't had fresh blood in months, but he'd resisted draining the guy dry. Now that he thought about it, he regretted not doing so. At least he wouldn't have encountered this lunatic. Then again, he had a sick feeling the bastard would have eaten what was left. If he was still alive, his blood would have run cold with the threat, but seeing as though he was dead, he just glared at the man before him. If this guy could even be called such. Ozzy didn't have a clue what a Wendigo was, but he'd be perfectly content with never having to cross another in this lifetime or the next.
Ozzy couldn't believe the audacity of this guy. He was going to continue to eat the poor bloke and insult him all in one go? Could vampires vomit? He hadn't done so since his rebirth, but watching Fritz chew and swallow the flesh, he damn sure wanted to. "Yeah, actual food," he grumbled despite the mocking. "Like chocolate, which was a luxury considering I can't eat anything but blood." It had been an explosion of flavor in his mouth, and now it had all gone to waste. "You're one foul piece of shit," he said as he cleared the remainder of the stairs. "Enough," he demanded as Fritz inquired about the dead donor being a diabetic. He couldn't just idly stand by and watch this thing devour someone that hadn't deserved to die in such a manner.
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on May 14, 2019 14:42:18 GMT 1
Yippie ki yay. Fritz snorted at the retort, if the vampire was trying to make him see the error of his ways then he was wasting his breath, he'd lived far too long in this way to have any sense of conscience when it came to fulfilling his most simplistic of desires. Even now he could quite happily sit and finish stripping the flesh from the corpse before him but instead he had taken just a small chunk to chew on whilst this other hunter spoke to him. Spoke down to him more like, but he wouldn't blame the vampire for his utter ignorance, not many had heard of his kind, especially within more civilised societies. Still, he didn't rise to the bait of the insults, it wasn't as if Oz, even as a Vampire, knew the level of hunger that twisted his mind just as much as it knotted his stomach. Silly child.
Fritz laughed again at the vampire's comment of how luxurious this guy's blood was to him, doubled with a complaint over how he couldn't eat anything now but blood. "What an awfully sad state of affairs," he taunted after he'd swallowed, he didn't reach for another tidbit of flesh, instead he got to his feet and tilted his head to the side to crack his neck. He felt indescribably better after this. He knew he'd most likely get a rather large punishment for ending the life of somebody within this facility but if they had fed him the amount that he'd told them he required then this individual would be suffering nothing but vampire induced bloodloss right now. Maybe. He had been quite a sweet morsel.
The Wendigo bent down and pierced his fingers between a couple of ribs at the back of the body so he could lift the carcass up like it were nothing more than a gruesome puppet. The demand of 'enough' had led him to do this because nobody told him what to do, especially if it was partially their fault in the first place. Fritz took a step forward and thrust the body towards the vampire, uncaring of the intestines that spilt messily to the floor in the process. It may well be gruesome, but how dare this vampire give him grief for this? "Foul, yes, but you made this man a meal long before I did." He smirked again but his gaze pierced through the vampire, an underlying anger and fury there that threatened to spill over if this idiot insisted on continuing to insult him so brazenly, "so why don't you fucking apologise. Look him in the eyes and tell him how sorry you are, lucky for you I left those behind." The intraocular fluid is a lttle too gritty for his tastes.
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Post by OZYMANDIAS GERARD PROPHET on May 15, 2019 21:11:57 GMT 1
This individual was deranged. He had to be. There was no doubt in Ozymandias mind. What sane person could find any humor in this situation? Ozzy might have been able to understand if the guy had ripped his victim apart and then broke down in remorse, but that wasn't the case. Something was clearly wrong here, and it was beginning to unnerve the hell out of him. The taunting made him want to punch Fritz in the nose, but he restrained himself. He doubted he could take this thing when he'd just watched him tear someone apart. The victim had been human, but Ozzy was sure he'd lose. He glanced over his shoulder up the stairs wishing a guard would come down and put an end to this freakshow.
The vampire fought not to step back when the Wendigo rose to its feet. He didn't want to be here anymore. Call him a coward, but he wanted to live. Oz was hoping their meeting was soon to conclude, but his hopes and dreams were crushed as the other male lifted the body up like a rag doll and threw it at him. The amount of horror that was displayed on Ozymandias' face was unmatchable. He caught the body out of pure instinct, the blood soaking into his clothes. The body was still soft, a bit too early for rigor mortis to set in, but no less horrifying. He stood frozen in fear, his gaze wildly looking from the body to the floor and all the spilled content to Fritz. Madman. He's a fucking madman. I've got to get out of here before he does the same to me. What kind of place lets people like him walk freely amongst the general population? Why isn't he housed somewhere far away from normal people? He's a menace to society and a danger to everyone around him. And he doesn't care! Vampires didn't need to breathe, else he'd be hyperventilating.
"I-I let him live," Oz argued, but he flinched under that gaze. Every alarm in his head was saying run. "He willing let me feed off of him. I didn't take his life, you did." Then the guy went and told him to not only apologize but to look him in the eye. Ozzy made the mistake of glancing down, and low and behold the eyes were still there, frozen in lifeless terror. I'm sorry. He couldn't fix dead. He couldn't even turn the guy, there wasn't enough left. Ozzy laid the body, or rather what was left of it on the stairs. "Words don't seem to work for you," Oz said quietly. He turned on Fritz, launching himself at the other. Maybe actions would do the job. What had possessed him to attack Fritz would be forever unknown, but it was too late to back down now.
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on May 17, 2019 22:37:23 GMT 1
Freddy would argue that he isn't deranged in the slightest, for somebody who has to eat what he does he believes he's in control of quite a lot of his facilities still. Or perhaps he's just numb to it all that he just doesn't see the horror in what he does.. But then if he did he'd surely go mad because no matter what he does he can't ever stop himself from needing to feed and feed on a daily basis. If he cared then he'd end up losing his mind and he'd be damned if that ever happened. Of course, it helped to not get close to anybody. It was a lonely life, in a way, but he was certain that he didn't need anybody. They'd either end up food, despising him or dying of some other cause anyway. It was easier to be alone.
After he'd thrust the body at Oz he licked the blood off of his fingers, using his teeth to clean beneath his nails. It stopped him from laughing at the look of absolute horror on Oz's face anyway, that frantic gaze, he'd remember that and probably have quite pleasant dreams featuring them. You never forget a face and his imagination as he sleeps features the destruction of many a person, even the guard that had helped him not long after he'd arrived here had starred in his own massacre. It's a good thing that the ability to read another's mind wasn't so common of a gift, his thoughts are probably best left untouched. The poor Vampire looked on the verge of panic, either that or the scent of blood splattering upon him was having an adverse effect, either way, it was quite the sight. He could befriend this vampire, he was certain. His friendships literally consist of him not eating said friend, he's not usually specifically nice to the individuals he 'dotes' on.
"That's true. I did. But you left him, didn't you? The poor, weakened sack of meat discarded where anybody could have come across him." He was pretty certain that the guy had been conscious and upright when he'd attacked, he vaguely remembers hearing a shocked cry of surprise as he'd sunk in his teeth. He chuckled darkly and wiped his chin against his hand as Oz looked down at the body. Nearly everybody finds it hard to not look at something that'll stain their retinas, everybody is so curious. Then Ozzy spoke, quiet words that instantly had his attention because he too is curious, if the Vampire was freaking out then he wanted to hear his words. But then he had a Vampire launching itself at him. Luckily his hand was already raised to his own mouth, it made it easier to shoot it out and grab for Oz's throat.
If he was successful he'd swing the other man around and against the wall none too gently and use his own body to pin the fanged guy to the wall. "You want me to cry, vampire? Shall I weep and mourn over the carcass? What would you say I wonder?" He leant in and licked a line over Oz's cheek firmly, gathering a few droplets of blood that must have splattered there when he'd caught the body. And then his voice changed, it had nothing to do with the proximity or the touch of the vampire, just another little ability of his species that Oz had yet to experience. He copied the vampire's voice, every nuance of his words, his accent, the tone, perfectly mimicked, "I'm so sorry," he choked out with the voice belonging to the man in his hold, his gaze remained coldly entertained, his face passive, "I should have done something, I shouldn't have left you, I should have pulled that monster off but I was so scared... And I wish I'd squeezed every last drop of blood from your veins whilst I could." He snarled and tightened his grip on Oz's throat. The vampire wouldn't need to breathe, but it felt nice to him, a feeling of control for the monster inside of him.
He lost Oz's voice and sighed before tossing him haphazardly back to where the corpse was, "don't hate me because I ruined your chance to finish the sweet morsel off. Why don't you have one last little lick for closure and in the future just finish off your food before somebody else does it for you. It'll leave you less butthurt." He doesn't see the problem being that the guy is dead.. More a territorial thing. It doesn't matter anyway. Chocolate boy wasn't going to pop back up again..
ooc|| let me know if anything isn't okay D: idm changing it, Oz is lucky he just ate though >>'
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Post by OZYMANDIAS GERARD PROPHET on May 21, 2019 5:19:46 GMT 1
If Ozymandias hadn't been clinging to what little humanity he had left, then perhaps he wouldn't have judged Freddy so harshly. He'd never asked to become a vampire, so he'd done his best not to kill. All of the donors they'd received were the lowest of the low, but Oz wasn't a murderer. He'd drank his fill but never more than necessary. He wasn't a glutton. Even when he was a newborn vampire he'd been reluctant to feed, reluctant to live off of another's lifeforce. It wasn't right. He wasn't a religious man by any means, but he felt like some sort of abomination. Now he accepted it with a smidge of hope that one day he could live again. It was probably the only thing keeping him sane.
Then there was the scent of blood, so warm and bountiful, mixed with a hint of chocolate. He'd tasted that blood moments before and it was so tempting. Something deep within him wanted to drop to the ground and lick the floor clean of every drop that had spilled. He wanted to indulge those otherworldly desires, but he fought that temptation. He would not stoop so low as to be on the same playing field of the man before him.
He used the Wendigo's harsh words to keep his mind distracted from the blood. Those very words cut deep. He hadn't taken into consideration that the blood would attract others. It was dark outside. Any vampire could have come across and drained the man of all his blood. Any creature with a lust for blood and/or flesh could have done this. Oz probably wouldn't have cared as much in those cases, but he'd witnessed this. It only filled him with more guilt. He should have offered to walk the other back to his dorm. He should have been more aware of the dangers, but he'd been drunk of the sweet blood that had finally satisfied his hunger after so long. He'd thought that leaving the guy alive was enough. He was wrong.
He'd also made a horrible mistake. The hand that grasped his throat sent him into a panic. It was a natural reaction from the time where he'd been a living, breathing creature. He completely forgot that breathing was unnecessary. Ozymandias gasped with pain as he was slammed into the wall, his head rocking back against the wall and then he felt Fritz's weight against him, pinning him there. He felt like lamb to the slaughter. How had he, a predator, suddenly become the prey? That's right, he'd been stupidly reckless. He'd known from the start that there was no way to beat Fritz, and yet he'd attacked him. Why? Why had he gone and done that?
Oz didn't give a damn what the man did, he just wanted him to let him go. He'd instinctively grabbed the other's wrists to no avail. He hated that Fritz kept referring to the dead body as a carcass. It certainly looked like one, but Ozzy would never admit it aloud. He'd never strip someone of their humanity after they'd become a victim. No, he didn't have it in him. He wasn't heartless. Oz went stiller than stone as he felt a tongue moving against his cheek. His heart even stopped beating. You'd think he wasn't even there, if not for the fact that he was physically there. He suddenly came back to life as he heard his voice coming from the other's lips. Blue eyes widened and his frantic attempt to escape became wilder as the fear started to crash over him in waves. He'd never been in such a situation, and he'd like to get out of it as quickly as possible. His feeble attempts stopped as the grasps on his throat tightened. He's going to crush my windpipe. He shouldn't be panicking over that, but he wasn't exactly thinking straight right now. Between hearing his voice, a perfect replica at that, and being pinned against a wall with no means of egress, Oz was close to losing it.
And then it was over. He was on the ground, a fair distance from the man that could have ended his life just now. Oz tried to scramble to his feet, only to slip in the blood of his and Fritz's shared victim. Eventually, he just sat there in the pool of blood, the scent so strong that it made him wish he was sick, but all he could think about was how delicious it would be. He looked at his hands, slick with blood. He wanted it. He wanted it bad. He forced himself to look at the corpse. Shit, he'd stop seeing it as a person. It...why was he using the word it? Oz shifted his gaze upwards to the Wendigo. "Go fuck yourself," he managed to get out. Maybe he had a little fight in him, or maybe he was in just enough shock to not care what would happen next. "He was mine," the vampire mumbled. "Now it's all wasted." His gaze dropped back to his hands. "So much wasted blood... So greedy." He swallowed, another unnecessary action, but he did it anyway. He could keep it from truly going to waste though. His hands shook as he fought his desires. He wanted to be angry, but all he could think about was the blood. All he had to do was raise his hands to his mouth and it could be his again.
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on May 27, 2019 16:12:06 GMT 1
Freddy had slipped into madness when he'd still been human. He hadn't wanted to die, he had wanted anything but that and pure starvation had led him to feast on the body of a man that he shared nothing with other than captivity. So he had been lost even before he'd been taken by the spirit, or demon, whatever it was that had changed him into the being he is today. He learnt, long, long ago with the help of Aurelie that he was nothing less or nothing more than those around him, but he still needed feeding. He needed to eat just like a vampire needed blood, like a ghoul needed flesh, like a human needed food. He learnt to look at humans as if they were nothing but a potential meal. He could humour them, flirt with them, converse over philosophical matters, engage in political debates and then go and eat their mother, brother or child without batting an eyelid. Perhaps he no longer has the ability to care? He's never let anybody other than Aurelie close enough to test that and after she died he never 'cared' for another thing.
Despite the hostile actions from the vampire Fritz wasn't mad.. There was no anger in this man, not for something as insubstantial as this 'attack', the little vampire hadn't even bared fangs. It was almost sweet, like a puppy throwing itself at a larger dog in an attempt to bring it down. Cute, almost. He didn't think that Ozymandias would appreciate being referred too as cute in a moment such as this, so he simply held the vampire up against the wall and revelled in it's pointless efforts to escape. The only thing that was missing was that heartbeat, that erratic pulse beneath his fingers that he's so very used to feeling in these circumstances just wasn't there. Pity.
Fritz didn't go after Oz after he'd thrown him, instead he crouched down onto the same level as the guy and watched him with predatory yet curious eyes. The vampire seemed transfixed by the blood upon his hands, horrified and disgusted but he'd recognise that look on his face anywhere. The man was tempted. However menacing Freddy may come across as at least he can honestly say he has no self hatred within himself, he indulges his hungers and he lives a much happier life for it. Perhaps not now, now he was a prisoner within walls that seem able to hold him securely, but even here they fed him and punishments? Punishments were being locked away with a book. Oh, the humanity. A malevolent and bloodstained smile curved to his lips as Oz swore at him and a dark chuckle trickled past his lips.
"He isn't going to care if you indulge a little more," he spoke quietly now, there was no need to raise his voice to let the vampire hear him, there was only the two of them in this stairwell for now. Fritz reached to the floor and ran his finger through a splattering of blood before raising it to his lips and sliding it into his mouth, "you'll never taste it again, not just like this.. Hurry yourself before it congeals around you," he smirked and waited, just staring at the vampire expectantly, "regret's a bitch, vampire, tick tock, tick tock.."
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Post by OZYMANDIAS GERARD PROPHET on Jun 3, 2019 2:13:45 GMT 1
How could anyone be so cruel, cynical, sadistic? His gaze rose slowly as Freddy crouched down. There wasn't the slightest bit of remorse in those eyes. It was enough to make Ozymandias spit in the man's face, but he withheld himself from doing something equally as stupid as moments before. Instead, he stared into those eyes, spotting a hint of curiosity. It made him sick. There was plenty of evil in this world, but Fritz was on another level. He was the epitome of evil, the foundation of all darkness and it made Ozymandias feel cold when he was incapable of feeling such a thing. That feeling grew as the man smiled at him. He had never been so afraid, not even when he was on the brink of death.
The quiet tone startled him. It was far more menacing than being yelled at because of how unexpected it had been. "He won't care, but I will." He looked back at the body, mangled and bloody. He swallowed with a sudden thirst as he watched Fritz taste the blood once more. Greedy bastard. Hadn't he had enough? The vampire wanted desperately to shut the words out, to ignore them, but putting his hands to his ears would do no good. It would only further smear his face in blood.
Blood. Blood that tasted like chocolate. Blood that smelled so sweet. Blood that he'd drank from before Fritz had killed the man. Blood that had filled him. Blood that had given him life. Blood that he would never taste again after today. Get a hold of yourself Oz. You've already fed today. You don't need more. Take only what you need and never a drop more. He repeated the law of his coven in his head, desperately trying to ignore his own selfish wants. "I don't need it," he said quietly. "I've had enough to sustain me." But he wanted more, so much more. He could lick this whole floor clean and it wouldn't be enough because Fritz had ingested a great deal of it in his frenzy. But it would be wasted if he didn't do something about it. No one else was going to come by and finish off what was left. Oh no, they'd just scream for help and some poor janitor would be forced to clean up the mess. Wouldn't it be selfless of him to keep some poor soul from having to put in extra work when it was unnecessary. He shook his head. Stop it. You're not making any sense. Don't stoop to his level. It's not worth it. Think of Leora. Reason, yes he had to listen to reason.
Would he regret not having one last taste? Oz closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. Completely unnecessary on his part, but he needed to calm down, if only a little bit. "You're one conniving son of a bitch. You've had your fill of flesh, why don't you just mosey on and leave me alone?" He couldn't think with Fritz egging him on. "I don't know what hole you crawled out of, but I'm not a monster. I won't do it. I won't." He shook his head, eyes finally opening. "I've got too much to lose and you obviously have none." If he kept talking then maybe he could control his urges. Control the hunger. Be better than what he was made to be. He didn't have to be a monster. He didn't have to, but....he swallowed, drew his tongue across his fangs, glanced at the Wendigo and wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. "...I can't. I've done enough damage."
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ID Number: 771-000-231
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on Jun 8, 2019 12:45:08 GMT 1
Fritz wasn't sociopathic enough to miss the burning hatred in Oz's eyes, he was just completely unfazed by it. He'd seen enough anger and disgust in his lifetime that it really no longer affected him. He doesn't care how people view him. Most of the time if they knew him well enough to be disgusted with him then they were food and cattle doesn't have an opinion in how he lives his life. Oz though, he wasn't food, the lack of a beating heart and the absence of warm flesh didn't strike his inner instinct as fresh meat, so he was sort of safe. Of course he could decide to hurt the vampire, but right this moment he was seeing him as a friend. Wasn't that nice of him? He rather thought so. He was even sharing a kill, something he usually would never do. But considering he had nowhere to store the corpse there was no point in being greedy.
That twisted smile of his faded, the patience in his gaze draining away to mild irritation as Oz continued to speak. There was absolutly no reason in his mind why the vampire wasn't taking full advantage of this situation, the man was dead, there was no coming back from it, so why would he care about making the most out of spilt blood whilst the opportunity dangled before him? What kind of pathetic vampire was this man? Or was he clinging to those last vestiges of humanity that he had? It would make sense, but to know for sure he'd have to ask and Fritz wasn't particularly that interested in Oz's history, just his present usefulness. He wasn't being particularly helpful right now though, even his amusement factor was beginning to wear a little thing. Talking about being sustained, not 'needing it'.. It was enough to make the wendigo tut impatiently.
Oz's eyes closed the and Fritz's smirk grew more sly. The vampire's words had no effect upon him but for certain there was no way he was just going to 'mosey' on about his business. That way there'd be no seeing whether this vampire would succumb to bloodlust or hold on to that fragile piece of control that he seemed to be clinging too. "A monster, hu? What's the definition of a monster? To a canary a cat is a monster, to the foxes the humans who chase them down on horseback are monsters. We eat, we live, it's all a matter of perception." He was still smirking when Oz's eyes reopened, but now he looked less irritated once again, he was going to break, he had to break and give in to what his species are reknown for. How far can a vampire resist the bloodlust?
"The damage has been done. He's dead. What more damage is there to do? Unless you plan on ripping off his leg and tipping it up like a sippy cup." That would count as doing more damage. To the corpse at least. It isn't as if the guy could be any more dead. Fritz let out an amused bark of laughter at the thought and decided that he'd had enough. The wendigo stood to his feet and moved forward to reach out for the back of Oz's head at the same time. He had thought to thrust the vampire face down into the pooling blood like the filthy animal Oz thought him to be, but instead he ran his hand through the thickening blood and aimed to slap that palm over Oz's lower face like the muzzle they so often place upon him. He wasn't worried about those fangs, he'd just fed, any wound would heal in quick enough time.
"You're right," he added in a whisper, "I have nothing to lose, nothing, apart from the chance of missing out on watching you give in to your basic desires. With so little to live for, who are you to keep that little thing from me?"
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THE OTHERS
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ID Number: 345-267-090
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Post by OZYMANDIAS GERARD PROPHET on Jun 26, 2019 0:12:46 GMT 1
There was a fine line between sanity and insanity. Ozymandias was doing his damnest not to cross it. He was teeter-tottering on a tightrope, fighting the urge to just jump off and get it over it with or remaining firm in clinging to his humanity. Humanity. Oh how he had taken it for granted for so many years. So many times he'd been willing to throw his life away just because he could. To watch it coagulate in a spoon and shoot it into his veins for a few precious moments of high. That had been the definition of life for him. He'd been unstoppable! Living the dream at the top of the world! Then he'd got clean, married a nice girl, started a family. The younger him would have claimed he'd wrecked his life by letting himself get tied down, but for Ozymandias, it had been the real highlight. Then he'd lost it all in the blink of an eye. Now he clung to his humanity in a fruitless effort to remain human, even though his blood did not run, his heart did not beat. So why was he bothering to deny the monster he had been made to be?
Simple. He wanted to believe that things could return to normal. That no matter how much he hated Evelyn, that maybe if she saw the truth that she'd take him back. That Leora could grow up with her father. That they could be happy again. If he couldn't do that, then what was the point of getting clean? Surely the world could not be so cruel as to put him through hell over and over again just for shits and giggles?
"We are the definition of monster," he answered defeated. "We are what children fear in the dark, the monsters hiding under the bed and in the closets." He wanted to be better than that. He needed to be better than that. "I don't want to be the monster though. I didn't ask for this. Maybe you didn't either, but it looks like you've made your choice." He shook his head. "But I can't do that. I have a little girl that's waiting for me to come back. I swore I'd do right by her." At the end of the day, his reasoning would always be Leora. If nothing else, he would be a father to his daughter. And if he couldn't go back to being human, he'd still find a way to support her in everything she did, no matter what. You couldn't put a price on being a decent parent.
No damage to the dead, but damage to his own soul. Damage to his mental state. This wasn't about the body that lay before them. It was about Ozzy trying to preserve himself as much as possible. He visibly cringed at the image of using the man's leg as a sippy cup. The Wendigo clearly had a vivid imagination, and a twisted one too. The laugh made him look up at the man, not thinking much of the guy towering over him. If anything, Oz was hoping the man was going to take his leave, but instead, he found a blood-covered hand wrapped around his face.
What fresh hell was this? Ozymandias struggled with every ounce of strength that he had, but it was pointless. Feeding just enough to stay alive wasn't good enough. He couldn't outmatch Freddy, no matter how hard he tried. The scent of blood was so overwhelming being this close to his face. It filled his senses like some dark delicious cloud. He felt the warmth of it across his face, his lips, could taste it on his tongue. So sweet. So very sweet. His fangs sunk into the other's hands, tongue drawing across as much of the blood as he could lick up before he swallowed a mouthful of Freddy's, but it wasn't nearly as sweet as the blood on the ground. He couldn't be blamed when he'd been forced, right? He couldn't be blamed when he'd tried so hard to fight it, right? There was just too much to go to waste and Freddy seemed interested only in the flesh, not the blood. Ozymandias tried to tear away from the Wendigo as primal instinct took over. He just needed to get one last taste. He just needed to lick up every last drop, and then he could go back to being normal. Who could blame him when it smelled so damn good?
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ID Number: 771-000-231
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on Jul 1, 2019 18:14:13 GMT 1
If Freddy knew about Oz's desire for things to turn back to 'normal' it would have tickled him enough that he would probably have doubled over laughing for a good while. In their world, this world, nothing ever goes back to normal. He should know. After he was taken from his family he never saw them again, there may be grandchildren or great grandchildren out there carrying on his bloodline but he hasn't a clue where they would be now, how old they would be. For all he knows his family could have been struck down by some illness or murdered by pillagers or thieves. The strange thing it, he knows that part of him should be concerned over that, but he really doesn't give a flying fuck. They would have become food to a newly risen wendigo, nothing but bones and meat to sink his teeth into. Not even their begging cries would get through to the man within the monster.
Still. Some part of him liked the idea that his family could be out there, continuing his line. Never knowing where their great great grandpa disappeared too. A family mystery. His advice to Oz would be simple, 'move on or feast on them'. Because in the wendigo's world there really was no other option.
Oz began to speak and whilst he enjoyed the deafeatist attitude the man was rather dramatic. It made the dirty blonde arch an eyebrow as he spoke, the assumption that he made made his smirk fade somewhat though. Not quite a frown, but not exactly the friendliest of expressions, "there was no choice to be made, vampire." He didn't owe Oz an explanation for why he was the way that he was but he was going to be giving him a brief insight, "my little girl, my eldest boy, the baby my wife was carrying, I would have picked the flesh from their bones and buried them with a heavy heart." And now came a sliver of advice from the mouth of a predator, "so doing right by her might simply be letting her go. Or do you think you could ever look at her and not think of the blood coursing through those tiny little veins? Those teeth of yours combined with your strength could crush her fragile little birdlike neck."
The change that came over the vampire after he'd clamped his bloodied hand over his face held the wendigo in proud awe, he can't say that he's ever seen a vampire give in to bloodlust this closely before. Sure enough he's never been close enough to see the defeat and the hunger bloom within their eyes. Ozy was a good friend, an interesting toy. And then he was bitten. Fritz had expected something like this to happen but the twin puncture marks still sent a flash of pain up his arm and caused his jaw to tighten in a successful attempt of staying silent. Just because he'd expected to be bitten didn't lessen the annoyance at being a momentary snack, so he wasn't really thinking too clearly when his other hand grabbed for the back of Oz's neck and he would have crouched and slammed the vampire's face into the floor like a cruel master with a disobedient dog, but Oz tore away from him.
Fritz laughed quietly as he crouched down, his forearms resting upon his thighs, "good boy," he murmured, the smirk like smile on his lips was almost smug. This had been what he'd wanted from the very start, but not to see another predator acting like it. To watch somebody else give into their base, almost animalistic (to human standards) behaviour. Why bother to fight something that's inevitable? "Next time, sate your hunger when the blood's still warm.." He lifted his hand to his own mouth to lick at the bite to his palm, wiping away the blood from an already healing wound, but his gaze never left Oz, "or I'll be back to have you lapping at the tiles again."
He'd helped. See, Oz's hunger would be sated for a little longer this time. Perhaps. Fritz doesn't know. He doesn't care. Really he'd just done this because he could.
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