Roleplay City
Administration => Infusco Archives => Archives => Old Roleplays => Topic started by: Abderus on November 02, 2008, 05:00:16 AM
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The black mustang was parked in some sketchy lot a few blocks down. It was still all fucked up. He’d driven it home from Fantastika that night but never found the right ledge to launch her off. So he swapped license plates with a black Honda civic parked outside a grocery store and then drove the beat-up baby home. It had been there a few weeks now, parked near the tool shed at the back of the beach house, and Amery was pretty Gran’Lynn hadn’t even noticed it. Or ever would. He’d switched out the plates again a few days before with some shitty Toyota parked on the side of the street and, feeling confident enough, he decided he needed
sixty-six Pandenning Court
a night out on the town. Get some real blood, not just beach combers and sunbathers. And it was getting a little late in the year for sunbathers as it was. He was going to miss all that skin.
--
She had brown hair and brown eyes. She was kind of pretty, but not stunning. But she was also ballsy and cocky and fearless and so of course Amery wanted to fuck her. Mostly he wanted to fuck her because she showed so much interest in him, and so little interest in fucking. Amery couldn’t figure it out. It was like she wanted something else, like she knew something he didn’t, and although that pissed him off it also made him undeniably intrigued. As it was he hadn’t fucked in a while, and if he could get a drink off her in the process it would be all the better. Make for a decent evening
and a damn good night.
He didn’t remember where he’d picked the chick up. He’d just drank, and was blood drunk, and the next thing he knew she was there giving him a look like she knew what he was about, and telling him that she wanted him to ‘escort’ her to a club. She didn’t flinch at anything. It sounded a bit off. It sounded like a trap to be straight and honest—dangerous shit. And so of course he said yes.
As they meandered towards the nightclub from a particularly shady alley leading back to where the mustang slept, Amery taking wide steps as he walked behind the brunette with fingers laced in hers and nose pressed into her hair, he felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere. The tiny hairs on his body stood on end. Something was out of place. He was sensing something off, something he couldn’t identify because he still didn’t understand all the comings and goings of his immortal body.
Immortal. Immortals. There are immortals fucking everywhere.
It was a trap. It had to be. He stopped, pulling the girl’s arms back so that she was yanked against him. Nuzzling her hair out of the way, he played his lips across her ear: “You should tell what the fuck is going on now.” He tugged at one of her earrings with his teeth. The response he got quite surprised him.
Tilting her head sideways, so that Amery could see into her eyes, the girl grinned and pushed some very dangerous syllables out from behind her plump lips and over her pink tongue.
“Or what, you\'ll bite me?”
For a moment, Amery didn’t do or say anything. Then because he couldn’t help himself he kissed the just-reachable lips in front of him, whispering between kisses
“those are already famous last words, baby--don’t risk making them yours too,”
and nicked the bottom lip as he pulled away. She didn’t flinch, nor did she seem afraid. What a fucking puzzle. This was getting weird. He let her fingers slip from his as she pulled softly away towards the door of what he could only presume to be the club. When she was near two very odd bouncers –they didn’t, well, smell right—she turned back to him and licked the tiny bead of blood from her lower lip.
“I believe the question is, are you going to risk making them mine?” she asked, an eyebrow flicking towards the moon. Then she disappeared inside, with a few people in line grumbling about favoritism. The bouncers didn’t seem to pay much attention to the petulant mortals, but they were both eying him intently. He had the feeling that he was being judged, but not on the basis of his appearance. Which, of course, was always flawless: even if he was in just a pair of old black trousers and a white wife-beater.
They’re not human.
He didn’t know what they were, but that much he could tell. Inside this converted warehouse, too, he could feel the presence of an unbelievable amount of immortals. He stood where the girl had left him, under the penetrating gaze of the door guards and considered his situation.
A hard-on and I’m not even to the door. Fuck I’ll take the risk.
Having methodically deliberated on his options, he then proceeded past the queue and to the door, returning the unwavering gaze of first one bouncer and then the other. At first they seemed about to stop him, or question him, he could feel them begin to move as he came close, but there was a commotion in the queue line and they seemed to relent and let him slip inside, likely deeming other matters to be more important than a lone, newly turned vampire.
Amery knew that they knew. He could feel them knowing what he was. What he couldn’t figure out was how the chick knew, or why so many vampires were congregated at the end of this hall, on the floors above him. What the fuck was going on? He realized he was grinning, and didn’t know why, and found that funny, so he chuckled. In the long entrance hall he glanced at one of the notices on the wall: Rules of Risk. He didn’t read the rest, but bit his lip and chuckled once with a shake of his head, and then proceeded down the long hall towards where he could feel the force of mortal and immortal alike with such intensity that his body went giddy-tense with adrenaline.
Clever bitch.
He stepped through the doorway and into a world like something he’d only imagined in B horror flicks and bad vampire novels.
-
HE WAS TREATED DIFFERENTLY nowadays, back to the way it used to be upon his turning, though sidled glances and expressions of open worship had been cast upon his sire at the time, not him. He\'d had a glimpse of it some years ago when he\'d taken over this ridiculous city and talked everyone into coming out, only to find himself hunted by an organisation of slayers and forced into hiding in another part of the states. The Oligarchy had been busy cleaning up what they deemed his \'mess\' and though the party had been fun while it was on, he had to admit he preferred things how they were now. It wasn\'t so much fun revealing a dangerous identity to someone who already knew about your dangerous identity and confusing you with all the other fuckers that were running around pretending to be better than him.
This nightclub was one he returned to when he wanted it easy. He was having a difficult time with his latest hostage locked up in his penthouse - the one he wanted to discover, twist and break, to see what kind of mortal the kid really was. Sexy but not-so-charmingly aloof, Lazarus needed some space from the mortal taking up a great wad of his time and to fill it either with groupies or newbies, because he\'d always had a soft spot for fledglings.
Some kind of sycophant vampire sidled up to him at the bar and asked if he could purchase Lazarus - recognised as the Luminary, top man in the Oligarchy - a drink. He was swatted away with a feral decline, worded in the manner of: "They\'re free to me, you dumb fuck." Only the mortals were keen to approach him after that, but he hadn\'t found one that jumped out to him as particularly appealing. Swivelling around on the stool and placing elbows on the bartop, he was in the middle of surveying whatever was tasty in the club when he saw something much more interesting at the doorway. A newbie, lovely body, looking much like those \'young punk\' variants that could be seen around the place. He was out of his element, perfect for the swooping.
Swoop he did, for Lazarus was upon him in mere moments.
"When you stand there slackjawed, love, you look like you wouldn\'t understand half the answers I would give to all your questions." There was a half-smile on his face, a subtly cool smile that should the more perceptive study, would find to be rather calculating. Long, flowing, blonde, just-crawled-out-of-bed hair, gray eyes that could be any colour under the nightclub lights, dressed in a black shirt over bluejeans and boots on his feet - but not cowboy boots or the kind with wooden heels - no, more like the steel-capped kick-ass engineer boots that meant business. Of course what he looked like and what he was wearing would be overpowered by the proximity of sheer age, for Lazarus exuded the presence of one that had aged for many centuries. Twenty centuries, to be precise.
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Holy shit.
Amery’s eyes darted around at full speed, while he tried to keep his appearance as nonchalant as possible. This was crazy shit. He was running his tongue discretely over the tip of one of his fangs, subconsciously, when suddenly he was joined by one of the most peculiar vampire specimens he’d ever come into contact with. And not peculiar in a sort of “what the fuck has this guy got going on” way, but more like a “well, fuck me” way.
Although Amery wasn’t in full control (or in full knowledge) of many of his supernatural abilities, certain things went without saying. The smell of blood, for instance. And age. And this fucker was really fucking old. Older than anyone Amery had come in contact with before. But with youth comes blissful ignorance, in many regards. And a blatant disregard for things that, perhaps, should be more carefully regarded. For more reasons than one.
Amery didn’t say anything at first, but he made a bit of a show of staring at the blonde, looking him all the way down, and then up again. Where the other was masking his scrutiny, Amery was exaggerating it.
With a strangely serious chuckle consisting entirely of a released breath of air, he diverted his eyes, letting them meander around the crazy blood club he’d wandered into
chick
and wondering how he’s gotten himself into all this
That fucking chick.
With a cock and balls smile, Amery looked back to the Blonde vampire, shoving his hands into his front pockets, his shoulders rolling slightly forward and his head tipping a bit back in reaction. He had a vague enough warning sense not to step on such old toes, but still, he wasn’t about to give a coy little smile and introduce himself. Shit didn\'t work like that. And also, problem was, wherever Amery went somebody wanted a piece of him. And that suited him fine: he’d never been one to back down from a challenge as it was. It just got more difficult when everyone who wanted to fight you was
A fucking old ass vampire who’s like shit-billion times stronger and faster than you are
Immortal. Among other things. Amery’s brown eyes stared back into the probing grey ones, and he cocked his head to the side with a flick upwards of the eyebrows:
“…who’s asking questions?” he grinned darkly, taking a step forward, then swiveling enough to be standing perpendicular to the blonde, with his eyes still facing the other vampire “love.”
--
With her body disappearing in and out of existence in time with Risk’s flashing lights, she was back in her element. How long it had been her element wasn’t clear, but she gave off the impression that even the most novel and obscure of practices was immediately absorbed into her identity. She was not just a product of her environment: she was her environment, and the embodiment of all attempted activities.
She was not particularly beautiful. Not genetically, at least. Ancient accounts claim Cleopatra was no more beautiful than a common whore. So what did beauty really mean, when judged against power? To say that the brunette weaving her way through Risk’s lower floor was anything like Cleopatra was speculative, at best. Yet she had had her Caesars. If the twenty first century surrendered such equivalents among the blood thirsty gods that surrounded her now. For Caesar was a man, made god through death. How different were things now, truly? Could not the ancient humming be heard here, of all places, below the speaking tones, like the rumble of distant ages griding up against the present.
She didn’t seem to have a purpose to her movements, and yet she never looked aloof. She was at the bar, then exchanging a word, the walking elsewhere just to loop around again. She was both there and not there at any given moment: she could be adored or disregarded, for she was not enough of any one thing to garner unavoidable attention. She was and wasn’t, like a firefly, flicking in and out of visibility and mind.
And then she was gone, lost in the crowd of motion that made up Risk\'s dance floor. For it was not mortals and immortals dancing, but rather motion personified by the flashing lights and blasting music and disregardable passing of time.
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Tom had resigned himself to people watching. His evening had begun with such promise - a date with a really hot stripper he\'d met in a club he\'d been to a few nights before - but had not continued in the anticipated pattern at all. He\'d gone to a shitload of effort, too, thinking the blonde bitch would be a class act score. Boy, he couldn\'t have been more wrong.
For a start, she\'d been smart. Not just smart, but brainy, and had been very interested in engaging in meaningful conversation about history, anthropology and societal trends over dinner. The excuse that he was feeling too queasy to eat anything at the fancy restaurant he\'d booked had just about come true by the time the main course was done.
Halfway through dessert she\'d revealed she was a driven single mother who was just doing the stripping because it made good money and paid the bills for her and her kid - would give him a future, too. Tom had managed a watery smile that she\'d decided was his illness hitting another gear - his pallour added a lot of weight to this argument - and she\'d insisted the date conclude for the sake of his health.
Damn straight. Without further ado, he\'d put her in a cab back to her place and begun walking the city streets, attempting to force the tawdry images he\'d concocted for his How I\'ll Spend My Night Fucking A Stripper mind movie out of his head. All dressed up - in a pair of black dress shoes, tailored black trousers, a burnt orange button-down shirt (top three buttons now undone) that offset his hair and a caramel-coloured overcoat that brushed the backs of his calves and was good for sticking his hands into the pockets of - with nowhere to go, Tom instinctively headed for the one place he knew would make him feel better. Risk.
Problem was, he was restless and cantankerous by the time he\'d arrived, his mood cloudy because nothing had gone to plan with his evening and he\'d been in the city too long. There\'d been no calls from his crew and even though it hadn\'t been an exorbitant amount of time, he was suffering from more than a little paranoia that Reed had turned his buddies against him and he was going to be excluded from further adventures on the grounds that he was the cause of some awfully awkward silences last time they\'d met... plus, no-one could figure out why he was so fucking averse to daylight.
He\'d found himself a booth because he\'d arrived so early on (given that any time before midnight was \'early on\' around here), taken off his coat and sprawled forlornly in the space alone. He had a direct view to the dance floor but would have had to sit up, turn and crane his neck to see back to the bar and the front door. Mortals walked by him and looked him over, a few of them making him offers he found he wanted to refuse.
He accepted the fourth one. It hadn\'t been an offer so much as a well-executed stumble that suddenly scored him a giggling young lad in his lap. The smell coming from his pores was highly toxic and chemically-tainted but he did his best to extricate himself from the long, sprawled redhead\'s groin area anyway. Tom didn\'t allow him much leeway - on impulse, he helped the kid up far enough to get his mouth on his neck, take a nice long drink and then release him to his giddy stumbles.
Then, the vampire was too drug-fucked to move, but the lights were awfully pretty and the people were decadently tasty fruits just waiting to be plucked. Initially, he couldn\'t do a lot of moving and he simply sat there, laughing to himself, slumping lower and lower in his seat until he actually slid off and had to get his ass back on it. The whole process was hilarious to him and took a good twenty minutes.
Joy of joys when he was finally sitting upright (above the table) again, though, a sweet smelling brunette flounced past his table - he\'d smelled her earlier, when she\'d passed, but he hadn\'t recovered enough to move properly then - and he was able to snake a hand out and catch her wrist in order to get her attention. He peered guilelessly up at her as his hold tightened around her wrist (when she instinctively pulled away) so he could draw her back towards his table. His smile was broad, dimpled and disarming and she, to his drug-muddled eyes, was enchanting.
"Hey there, want to join me?" he asked huskily, none of his words slurring because he was concentrating quite hard on enunciating them clearly. It would be hard for her to tell whether he was just someone who spoke like that or whether he was under the influence of something. This was a good thing, as his immune system (or whatever the fuck it was in charge of that shit) was doing its best to process the lovely, floaty feeling of the high out of his undead body as fast as it could and he would soon have no need of speaking carefully. Best she not know any better.
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As he got looked over in a manner that he usually did to others, his eyebrows quirked even as he struck a stance that would make him even more appealing than usual - a difficult thing to someone who looked as damn sexy as him, but he was doing his best in any case, for first impressions were important. This entrance was less grand than the rest of them, but at least he had his height over this one, and he liked that the freshling moved to face him directly. If there was one thing Lazarus really enjoyed, it was attention.
"You are, but you\'ve started with a less than interesting one," Lazarus replied with a crooked smile, one of his eyebrows still raised higher than the other as he regarded the creature before him, his hands moving to rest on his hips - palms flat - as he bowed forward ever so slightly in order to hold a dominating position over the younger vampire before him. The blonde ancient had been using intimidation tactics for so long he didn\'t know how else to be, knowing that some saw it as a challenge and often times finding himself attacked when all he wanted was a fuck, but that was the joy of his existence. Nowadays though, he wasn\'t attacked, not when the supernatural council threatened death. "Are you sure you want to waste my time and yours when you look so green you could pass for extra terrestrial? How about you consider yourself the luckiest little vampire in all this club because I\'m paying you mind. Would you care for a stab at door number two or perhaps the runner-up prize of a drink?" He was grinning now, for if there was another thing Lazarus really enjoyed, it was the sound of his own voice.
-
Hmm.
Well, at least he wasn’t stupid.
“Quick ear--quick tongue, but tell me this then, after all of that: why would a time-wasting, runner-up, luckiest little green vampy like me want to humor you with a drink?” There was a half-grin at the corners of his lips, and Amery’s eyes didn’t waver from the blonde’s. Searching, calculating, laughing in their own little language… It was a look of amusement, and mockery, and false-testiness, and none of which were probably the best expressions to be displaying at the moment. Given the situation, and all.
Amery opened his mouth again after a moment’s pause, so that it was just visible that he was tracing the tip of his tongue again over one of his fangs—the motion he’d been in the process of completing before the blonde approached. Best to be consistent.
“Unless, of course, the drink’s really on you…”
He scrunched his hands inside his pockets once and rolled his shoulders, taking a step more towards the club and away from the threshold and the blonde. But his gaze was steady, and all in all, he didn’t look like he was about to bolt off anywhere. But who knew.
--
Progress stalled, she turned with a look of passive confusion at the source of her delay. First to the hand on her wrist, then following it down the arm and over the chest, up the neck and to the face of a redheaded vampire that she had never seen before. But nothing new was new for long to her. There was simply no room for novelty. She took in his smell, her mortal nose no match for immortal senses, but satisfactory enough to suit her needs and purposes. She eyed him over, no harshly or criticizing, just looking.
When her tug gave no results, she smiled softly, twisting her wrist against the vampire’s thumb so as to free it. She did not seem particularly worried, and if anything her actions suggested that she’d performed that same slow twist many a time previously. There was no arrogance, no show of strength or ‘look what I can do because I know your thumb can’t bend backwards either.’ None of that. Just a docile smile, a calm yet curious gaze and
“I shouldn’t think anyone likes to play with you, if you don’t play kindly. Is that why you\'r here then, alone? Kindly or not, solitude is not good when drinking. Leads to bad decisions.”
And yet she made no attempt nor gave any intention that she planned to join him once her hand was inexorably freed from his grasp. Though her passive smile suddenly jumped to a cocky grin, and then fell right back again into tranquility, showing no sign that it had ever been otherwise.
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My, the kid was most certainly as green as beans if he didn\'t know who Lazarus was. Even if some didn\'t know him from the role he played leading the Oligarchy, most certainly knew him because of the supernatural coming-out party, as he had been the spokesman and right hand man to Halwyn, who he\'d planned the little foray with. Also, when you got right down to the matter, if it hadn\'t been for Lazarus\' divulging in the riot and subsequent city-wide freak show, then it was possible that Amery wouldn\'t have been sired; not that either of them knew this. When Amery moved, Lazarus moved with him liquidly, as though they\'d both intended to step forward together.
"Because, love, you want what I\'ve got, whether you know it yet or not."
Such words were spoken with the confidence of utter belief. Everybody wanted what Lazarus had, he wouldn\'t be Lazarus if they didn\'t.
"Don\'t let this opportunity pass you by," he said, glancing down at the floor between them to include himself with his gaze before staring intently into Amery\'s dark eyes. "I\'m not just any ancient blonde vampire fucker trying to get into your pants, I\'m The ancient blonde vampire fucker trying to get into your pants." A hand lifted to point a long and elegant finger into Amery\'s chest, pressing lightly even while he maintained eye contact. "I am Lazarus, the Risen, the one and fucking only who knows everything about everything and everyone because I didn\'t just hear about it and I didn\'t just see it, I was likely in the middle of it fucking things up." A grin. "Now I can talk about myself all night," and that was no idle threat, "but let\'s get you educated, so you can truly appreciate the attention I\'m paying you. Look around and realise how fucking important I am."
He didn\'t have to look himself and check that many eyes were upon the Luminary as he attempted to sway the freshling. Really, what was it with him and other vampire\'s leftovers? He really had to find that out.
-
The vampire\'s gaze followed the girl\'s arm to her wrist as well, and he released her when she moved with purpose - duly noting whether there was a protection tattoo there or not - not wanting to make a scene (like he could be that energetic yet, anyway). He was pleased that she didn\'t walk away, however, and stopped to chat with him. It was a good sign.
"I play all sorts of nice, darlin\'," he told her warmly, then cocked his head, regarding her through thoughtfully narrowed eyes. "\'n what made you such an expert on drinkin\'?" he queried, thinking she was awfully sure of herself to be advising a vampire on his drinking habits. Or maybe she was just a cheap suck whore who knew of what she spoke because she\'d been there, done that and had the cum stains to prove it.
He giggled a little at his own denigrating thoughts, which didn\'t fit with the situation at all, but he didn\'t mind so much.
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Amery’s attention was split. Not to say that the blonde vampire wasn’t enough to hold his interest, for that was not the case. Instead, he had two other things vying for space in his considering mind. First was the brunette who’d led him here, but his interest in her was only passing now that she was out of his sight. For the moment. The more pressing, attention-grabbing, stimulant was the club itself. Even the small step that he’d taken from the threshold had increased his sense of involvement by three-fold. There was so much shit going on around… everywhere.
You don’t know shit about what I want
But he didn’t have the chance to verbalize it, as the Blonde continued talking. At each thing he said, Amery had something to object, but each time he tried to verbalize it there was something else added and he had to amend his response inside his head. It was rather frustrating. And curious. And sprouted a mixture of confidence and uncertainly within Amery, that worked together about as well as oil and water. His grin had faded, but he wasn’t frowning. There was a slight curl to the corners of his mouth, and it was something more in-between-like than any definite expression of emotion.
At the conclusion of the blonde\'s speech, Amery decided that it wasn’t really ‘worth his time’ to goggle at any faces looking back at them. Or, rather, if they were there then they were there, and if not than it saved him looking like a gawk-eyed-goon peering fearfully over his shoulder. So he kept right on looking at the grey eyes of the blonde vampire, even as he took a step towards the immortal, pushing his weight forward, and feeling the immortal’s finger press harder into his chest.
“You gunna educate me,” Amery’s voice low, and eerily singsongy “you gunna make me appreciate, tell me what I want, what I wanna hear, make me your baby…baby? Your prag? You’re blood bitch and a half—string me up and hang me out, wring me out, knock me up and beat me down…?” Amery gave half a head shake, gaze unwavering, and then was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, the edge was out of his words, and there was a cocky grin on his face “Well, as romantic as that is, I can’t say it really does it for me: you know, total domination, your dick in my ass...not really a few of my favorite things.”
There was a catch in his voice, and he broke eye contact as some thought flew through his mind and distracted him for a moment.
“but enough about me,” with a sly smile “because the real nail in the coffin” Amery leaned in closer still “when you come right down to it,” he reached up and curled the extended finger back into the blonde’s hand, “is that fangs are fangs and dicks are dicks, Lazarus the Risen. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re no different than any one of the other fucking, blood-sucking, self proclaimed godly little shits.”
All’s fair in Love and War. And when the prospect of Love given the circumstances seems more dangerous than combat, then by hell declare war!
“So tell me what I want, one more time—because I’m thinkin it isn’t you. Love.”
--
The girl drew back her unmarked wrist, but didn’t do much else with it now that she had it. Her brown eyes were focused on the redhead vampire with a look of forced remembrance.
“No, now I am very certain I’ve never seen you before in all my life. Which isn’t very strange, I suppose, given the cirumstances.” She ignored pretty much everything that had been said to her, instead beginning off on some other verbal tangent that must have appeared more appealing. “I should think you’re pretty old. Not too old, though. All the old ones I know prefer boys. Do you prefer boys?”
She forced space for herself next to the vampire, making herself comfortable before she continued talking. Although her voice was soft and consistent, possibly even monotonous, she seemed to show no qualms in manhandling the redhead enough to get herself satisfactorily seated.
“I’ve always preferred boys. Men only think about themselves and women only think about other people and when they’re vampires” she sighed “it’s only about 20 times worse.”
Then she seemed to get distracted. With an unfittingly stoic expression, she watched a group of laughing mortals on the dance floor get teased and sexually taunted by an immortal.
-
"No," Lazarus\' voice dropped to what would\'ve been an inaudible level had Amery\'s senses not been heightened supernaturally. "What you want always comes too late, while you\'re too busy looking for something better. The ones like you play rough, live tough, spit on everything and die young, proclaiming that anything else is insincere." Lazarus moved his hand to press his palm against Amery\'s chest, but gently. He\'d been rejected by a vampire, and though he was pushy and dominating with mortals to the point of forcing the issue or taking lives, he wasn\'t about to start throwing his weight around with kindred blood. It had always been the case with Lazarus. "You\'ll want what I have the hard way, and when that time rolls around, that\'s how I\'ll give it to you." A slow smile crept upon his face, the innuendo of their potential future meeting complete. He removed his hand and pocketed it before turning his face in the direction of the dance floor. He didn\'t bother walking away just yet, but the message was clear. Amery had been dismissed.
-
Tom frowned as he was distracted from answering her by having to move. It wasn\'t his usual frown of immediate annoyance but rather one of confusion as his addled mind jammed from trying to do too many things at once... talk... think... move... yep, too hard.
Eventually, he got his ass slid along the booth seat so that she could perch on the end and he was sitting more upright again, but he didn\'t allow any space between them, for his hand wished to wander down to her thigh and it was easiest if his own was pressed up against hers.
"I like girls," he declared, ignoring the shadow that wanted to pass over his mind and somehow correct him. Reed didn\'t count. His thumb brushed across the top of her leg, the tips of his fingers seeking farther down towards her inner thigh and him trying to act naturally. He could only hope.
His gaze followed hers and spied the fun happening on the dance floor, the scene causing a bolt of interet to shoot through him that left him tingling. He was coming to himself more and more every minute. "You want to have some fun?" he murmured, his face nuzzling towards her neck and his hand growing... bolder.
-
Amery was genuinely confused, but in such a way that he found the whole situation interestingly odd. He’d been expecting a veeerrrryyyy different scenario to play out. Since when does veiled-rejection+unveiled-insult=peace? Amery sure as hell didn’t know, because it sure as hell had never happened to him. Which was probably because
what I want always comes too late, while I’m too busy looking for something better. The ones like me play rough, live tough, spit on everything and die young…
A pretty good summation, actually. Not something Amery had never considered before, but certainly something no one had ever told him directly. His gaze, for a moment, may even have reflected this consideration. He instinctively half-flexed the muscles under Lazarus’s hand when the blonde touched him. It wasn’t supposed to be inviting, or mocking, or even a little bit of both. Instead it was just a mortal-style reaction to immortal contact. He was young, still, after all.
Then, with the blonde’s face in profile as the vampire looked away, Amery leaned in and placed one hand on Lazarus’s shoulder so that he could bring his mouth closer to the immortal’s ear. Not that such an action was necessary, but rather because it was very...unnecessary.
“Seeing as how you know me so well,” he whispered “would you really expect me to choose anything other than the hard way?”
He was close enough now that he could have kissed at the soft bit of skin right below Lazarus\'s ear. He did consider it. But didn’t.
“till then.” He took a step away, looping around behind the ancient, and moving unhurriedly towards the bar, his dark eyes scanning and darting at all the movement and action around him. But also carefully keeping eye of the blonde in his periphery.
We’re all of us insincere
--
“I’m not really a girl though” she corrected, “not to say I’m a boy, or man, or ever was… I’m more a woman really. Old enough,” she tore her gaze away from the happenings on the dance floor “Do you think twenty is a girl or a woman?”
She dropped her hand down to where the vampire’s fingers explored her leg. It seemed she was about to brush him away, but instead she just casually rested her hand atop his, neither denying or affirming it in any of its scandalous activity.
“Twenty is a very sour age.” She concluded, looking him in the eye and giving a soft laugh, before returning her gaze again to the dance floor. It was difficult to tell if she was even acknowledging all of what the red-head was saying, or just picking and choosing those parts that went along with her own train of thought.
-
When the unnamed freshling made a motion to talk to him, Lazarus allowed an accomodating but subtle reaction enough to give access to the shorter male. The corners of his mouth curled with a not-too-wide smile at the other\'s comment - a good comment, and a good parting. He found himself wanting what the other had a little more now, but would bide his time. It was a smaller city that most people thought, and if Lazarus ever wanted to track him down, such a thing would be easy. He was arrogantly confident.
With a tip of his head to acknowledge the parting, watching intently as the youngling headed for the bar before he got a different idea in his head. What with this new interaction at Risk, with the idea of this freshling being a potential sidetrack for him, he left the nightclub with the idea of returning home to his unsuspecting hostage - to play a few more mindgames.
-
"Mmm no," Tom murmured in a contradictory manner, doing his best to get his lips to her neck but feeling very much like he was twisting himself into a pretzel to do so - sometimes, he was just too fucking tall. "Twenty\'s a sweet age," he told her distractedly, his mind getting a little more focussed now (though not on anything constructive).
"Lemme taste how sweet you are," he whispered, finding the shell of her ear with his questing lips and capturing it gently. Visions of her getting up onto her knees and straddling his lap right here in the booth so he could drink from her neck more comfortably - and hopefully get her so turned on he could fuck her while he was at it - had his mouth watering and his hand squeezing with a bit more rhythm upon her thigh.
Of course, there were very comfortable back rooms they could go to, too, but he loved the idea of doing it out here where the pounding on the dance floor was strongest and would match their anticipated movements beautifully.
-
Amery’s approach to the bar was heralded with a few snickers (he could only imagine why) but was otherwise uneventful. The bar itself was of little more interest: vampires hovering around with barely shielded impatience as the mortal of their choice threw back another specialty shot of unknown constitution. A few eyed him, mortal and immortal, and though none of the gazes were particularly malevolent, they didn’t seem very “Hi, welcome to the dark underworld cult of the vampires” either.
So he swung on past the bar, going with the flow of the concentric ring construction of the whole building. It was a minute before he even realized he was searching for something
That fucking weird ass chick
And not just exploring and examining what, to Amery’s mind, must have been the best (or worst) kept secret in the entire city. I mean, if they told mortals about it they couldn’t expect it to stay secret for long. And yet he had the feeling that this wasn’t the sight of mass slaughter, either, where each night all the knowing mortals went bye-bye. That certainly wouldn’t fly. And yet, how this place was able to function was beyond Amery.
And he didn’t care, because he’d just spotted what he was looking for. A familiar form straddling an unidentifiable vampire in one of the booths. Her body blocked all of whomever she was enjoying, but even from the back he could tell it was her. Brown hair falling down over a strange, beige-top-thing, in a serious of purposeful knots and accidental kinks. A mess, with attitude.
--
She only seemed half listening to the vampire, or if she was listening fully, she seemed only half willing to show any acknowledgement.
“I’m not particularly sweet—I’ve been told,” she said thoughtfully, and with surprising decisiveness she was on the vampire’s lap, almost exactly as he’d imagined it. The only difference being that she was sitting on him more like one might if joking with a friend, than one straddling a lover in feverish passion, “I drink too much tea, I think. Or root beer.”
She looked down at him with her boring brown eyes, a brushed smile on her plain lips: “Now play kindly. I shouldn’t like to leave you as I found you,” And there was something off about the way she said it. The smile on her lips looked a little more sinister, the look in her eyes a little more serious. For all intents and purposes she was just a normal mortal girl. She had everything to lose, nothing to gain, especially in a place like this. And yet she seemed not the least bit worried, and very familiar with the territory for one who didn’t even have the risk tattoo. Either she didn’t fear death, didn’t fear the vampire in front of her, or was simply far to confident for her own benefit that things always work out well enough in the end.
In essence, there was something wrong in her head.
-
He looked at her dazedly, unprepared for just how fast she was able to move, even though he\'d fully anticipated the manoeuvre... he frowned as he computed it, briefly entertaining the thought that she was not a simple mortal after all, before dismissing it. He was just... fucked up by the drink earlier... which really should\'ve worked its way out of his system by now... but a clean drink would help that. He just had to ingest some sober blood.
His eyes narrowed as she warned him to play nicely and he couldn\'t stop the left corner of his mouth lifting in a sultry grin as part of his answer. "I\'ll play nice," he promised huskily, his hands snaking up her thighs to cup her ass and drag her closer to him (both because he was lazy and also because her crotch was far too far away from his). "I\'ll play so nice you won\'t want me to stop playing and you\'ll beg me to take you back to my place just so we can film it and you can take away your own memory movie..."
Chuckling as his words trailed off, Tom\'s lips were at her throat and kissing from about the word \'film\' and his tongue prodded at her warm, soft flesh when speech failed him. The cool, firm muscle flattened and echoed the sweet throb of her heart as it placed the vein he wanted to sink his fangs into. "Lessee how sweet you\'re not, then," he whispered in a voice she was unlikely to hear, before he gently (and considerately!) inserted his fangs and now cupped his nubile tongue beneath the wound so that the warm ambrosia that leaked out could pool in an enticing puddle upon it before he drank.
-
Even as the vampire slid her forward along his lap, the girl seemed to get evermore physically distant. Even though now her crotch was straddling his, her thighs on either side of the vampires, her head and neck close, his fangs closer, and the prick of pain in her neck… even though, as many mortals might define it, it was the most intimate moment between vampire and man, well, she wasn’t really there for it… even if she was.
It would have been one thing if she was drunk, or high, or completely mentally unstable. But she completely sober, entirely clean, and only a little bit crazy. So when the vampire opened one of the veins in her neck, she, quite paradoxically, seemed to forget all about him. Her eyes closed, and though she did lean into him more than she had been doing previously, it did not seem an action of lust or pleasure but rather one of convenience.
“It’s funny” she murmured, lips scarcely opening when she spoke and eyes still closed, “I don’t even like Root beer.”
--
As Amery approached, the figure he had his eyes locked on shifted. She moved away from him, melting into whomever she was sitting on, drawing herself towards the immortal body, and the immortal’s head leaning into view as Amery watched his lips move as a few words were exchanged, and a vampire kiss placed on her unscarred neck…
Holy shit are you fucking kidding me!
“Dude, Indiana,” Amery chuckled aloud, but to himself, and it was doubtful anyone could have heard him over the roar of Risk anyway.
Funny how shit works out.
Amery had about a quarter of a second (self-delegated) to determine how the fuck he was going to handle this situation. His feet had already begun to move before he decided on his final plan, and it wasn’t until he was about three immortal steps from the pair that he was positive it was the plan of action he wanted to pursue.
After all, he could have just walked up and said something witty or insightful or insulting or all three, if he could come up with anything. But why just be witty, insightful and insulting, when you can be witty, insightful, insulting and physically harassing?
There were probably more clever things he could have done. But he’d made up his mind. And he liked his idea, thank-you-very-fucking-much.
With what supernatural grace the youngling had in his undead body, Amery stepped forward and straddled the vampire’s knees behind the girl. His arms came forward as balances and braced against the seat on either side of the red head. Though he wasn’t quite sitting on the vampire’s knees as the girl was, it was a pretty good imitation. And he took the opportunity to press up against the girl’s back, and whisper in the vampire’s exposed ear (not that whispering was necessary at this point)
“If I didn’t know any better, Indie, I’d say you were cheatin on me”
The wisest thing might not have been to provoke a vampire during his meal. But Amery, being his age and nature, had yet to be accused of acting too wisely.
-
The feeding vampire wasn\'t too happy about the lack of response he was getting from his meal, so he\'d just decided that toying with her was having no effect and had sunk his fangs in deeper to draw the blood faster when, to top it all off, he was interrupted. By him!
He froze, blinking so that his eyelashes fluttered against mortal skin. He drank reflexively as his nostrils flared to gather in the scent of the crazy little fuck he\'d met... how long ago was that? It didn\'t matter, anyway, one large pull of the air near his face told him that the girl definitely wasn\'t aroused by his attentions and that the second passenger on his lap was the punk.
I need to come up with an annoying name for him
Hastily, he bit his lower lip and smeared a generous amount of his regenerating blood over the deep wounds in the chick\'s neck, glancing at it only briefly to be sure it was healing not spurting as he lifted his head to glare at the fucker. "What the fuck do you want?" he demanded through a cranky scowl, his tongue snaking along his lips and tracing his teeth to be sure he\'d gathered up all the blood - both hers and his - that he could.
The worst part of it all was that he wasn\'t genuinely infuriated to see the little cunt at all; rather, he was more pleased than anything... and that did not bode well.
-
The girl’s head came up from its slightly bowed position, to find herself now sitting between two vampires. Also, her neck was already closed up. She recognized the vampire now sitting behind her, and so she laughed. And then she went quiet.
She found the whole thing very unusual. A peculiar night.
“It’s like backwards ham sandwich,” she considered.
--
Weird ass fucking chick.
Some things are better left un-responded to.
She intrigued him, for all her fearless monotony, but he had more interesting individuals to contend with at the moment. Not to say he thought Indiana interesting, at least not aloud. Amery wasn’t really in the business of feeding egos. Unless, of course, the ego was his own. Staring into Indiana’s eyes all the while, he made a show of breathing in the smell of the girl\'s hair.
“A little loyalty, cowboy” he kept a pretty straight face, “though I know how much you must have missed me.”
He took his left hand off the back of the booth and brushed his knuckles condescendingly down the side of Indiana’s neck. A grin poked at one side of his mouth, but he chased it away. After all, it’s only funny if you don’t have to laugh at your own joke.
And then so much as it’s a joke to begin with.
Which it was.
Pretty much.
maybe
-
The redheaded vampire pulled a boggled face at the girl straddling him, distracted enough by figuring out what the fuck \'backwards ham sandwich\' meant (her blood wasn\'t chasing away the fog in his mind as fast as he\'d hoped, it seemed) to completely miss the other vamp\'s hand coming for him and
did that fuck just caress me?
Do you not feel the tingle? Are the little shivers not big enough for you to have noticed? Feels nice, doesn\'t it? Kinda\' like when Reed-
Oh no, he did not make me tingle!
Well, I beg to-
Fuckit
stroke his neck.
He blinked again, this time at the other male and the scowl was more a frown of confusion now. How the fuck were they all squeezed into this position anyway? The tables at the booths in this place were a little smaller than regular dining booths in cafés (hence the room to shift people onto your lap) but they were still there. Did the guy not have a table poking his kidneys? It seemed like a good thing to point out, because it had to be a concern.
"Get up and fuck off," he told the pair of them impatiently, making a point of pressing himself back into the padded seat so as to separate himself from them, glaring at the girl first, then the guy. He knew he wasn\'t in a witty enough state to deal adequately with the immortal just then and the arrogant fuck inside him was loathe to put himself in some sort of supplicant position with a guy that reminded him too much of the last person he\'d done that with anyway. Or... something. Fuck, his brain was cloudy and the fact that his skin kept reminding him it was tingling was just downright annoying.
-
His nose-breaking, bike riding, son-of-a-bitch little friend here didn’t seem as quite on top of his game as usual. Amery couldn’t place it, exactly, but he’d anticipated at least a little bit of violence it return for his rather brazen re-introduction.
Get up and fuck off? That was it?
“I prefer fucked up and getting off, personally,” he flicked an eyebrow up, and gave an uncharacteristically melodramatic sigh “but if you insist. Ladies first.”
Of course it was entirely impossible for the girl to get up and leave first, so despite what he said Amery had to swing one leg up over so that he was standing next to the pair, before ‘assisting’ the girl stand as well. With much emphasis on the ‘ass’ in ‘assisting,’ probably with the sole purpose of trying to illicit a response from the other vampire. Provocation. As always.
As far as his kidneys went, they were probably the body part of least concern in Amery’s mind at the moment. Because, despite the slightly awkward positioning of himself in relation to the table, a little discomfort was tolerable enough if the result was the look on Indiana’s face. Well worth it.
He turned to the girl, to make some move with the hope of badgering Indiana further, but she was no longer there. He did catch a glimpse of a swoosh of her eclectic attire and a bit of her hair, and yet almost before he’d seen her she was gone and lost again in the crowd of everyone and everything else going on.
Weird ass fucking chick.
Amery didn’t follow her. She was no longer the one he was pursuing.
And it was the first time that thought occurred to him.
-
Once the pressure was off his legs (and it had become very unwelcome pressure with the two of them there), the vampire slid sideways, farther along the booth\'s seat in something akin to a huff. Of course, it was only after he\'d run a hand through his hair (only to be reminded he\'d actually styled it tonight and to meet a few waxed-up peaks that didn\'t want to be ruffled) and got himself settled in a new sprawl, with long legs splayed in a V pattern beneath the table that he realised his mistake.
He\'d just left option A and B open to the little fuck; should he wish to sit on either side of him, the upstart could... and the upstart did.
The redhead\'s scowl only increased and he rubbed his neck like it could be paining him (though it wasn\'t) as he squinted at the brunette. "What part of \'fuck off\' confuses you, bitch?" he glowered petulantly, feeling compelled to whine about the other being there but too lethargic to do anything about it just yet. He might as well have patted his knee and welcomed the slimy little fucker back on for a horsey ride, considering how his laconic body posture was not reinforcing the \'go away\' message.
Fuck this chick\'s blood is taking too long to clear that other shit up, I didn\'t drink enough, damnit.
-
Amery took the opportunity, and once Indie had settled into a position that seemed to please him more (than being straddled by another male vampire, for instance), the spitfire fledgling wasted no time in trying to upset the balance. Again. He moved away from the vampire; in so much as he hauled his ass up onto the booth table, and in quick succession two feet came down on the booth seat to balance himself. One rested on the right side of Indie’s right thigh, and the other foot took full advantage of the space left open by the red head’s spread legs. Though Amery had made careful sure that no part of his body was touching the other vampire, the proximity of his foot to the other’s crotch was far from unnoticeable.
He rubbed his nose with one of his knuckles, and then made two fists and put them on either side of his ass. Not that he was in any need of more balance, but rather it forced him to hunch a little closer to the vampire.
And, Amery would have been pleased to note, that his currently position allowed him the luxury of looking down at the other, for once, instead of up.
“Nothing,” he snickered “why? Am I the one who looks confused?”
-
The elder vampire continued to squint balefully up at the other immortal - after sparing the foot near his crotch a hateful glare that was completely ignored - his hands working their way onto his thighs. He braced the heels of them against his legs, fingers curling around the brunette\'s ankle almost tenderly. He was being gentle because he only wanted to be ready to defend himself from a kick to his most vulnerable bits but he didn\'t want to provoke the little fuck into doing something... so he stuck with a cautious, soft encircling of the leg between his.
"You look... like a smarmy little flea," the redhead spat and then grinned at his own genius. What a perfect name! A tiny, annoying itch of a bloodsucker... that\'s what this little fuck was. Flea. It suited him. "And if we weren\'t here, I\'d fucking headbutt you again for getting in my face." It was a hollow threat, really, for even if they were in one of the private rooms out the back, he would still be loathe to cause trouble at Risk. Too many demons, too many Oligarchs - why just about half an hour ago he\'d heard some punks whispering about the Luminary being out and about in here tonight; you just never knew who you could make a complete ass of yourself in front of, in places like Risk.
"Now, how about you move your foot away from my cock and find your own space to sit in... over there looks good," he informed the younger vampire, nodding in the direction of the dance floor. "Lookit that, a whoooole lotta\' people having fun without you there to remind \'em how much fun they\'re really having. You should go. Be... the Party Superman or some shit," he waffled, nodding and making all sorts of gestures with his head as he talked because he wasn\'t game enough to loosen his hold on Amery\'s ankle in order to wave with his hand, as he wished.
He also frowned at himself, feeling self conscious because it seemed that the more he talked, the more shit it sounded and he was not going to be taken seriously like that. The young fuckhead would only laugh at him, he was sure of it, so the sooner he got rid of him, the better. "G\'won... shoo!"
-
“You know what I find interesting, Indiana?” Amery said, giving his ankle a test roll just to see how much movement he still had. Not to say he was planning on cock-kicking the vampire, or even that he wanted to…no, it’s just good to know how much freedom you do have in case an instance should arise where you do need it.
For whatever purpose.
“…it’s that you’ve been the one all up in my business till now. I didn’t want shit to do with you; I was doing just fine till you rolled around. But see now, when shit’s on its head and you’re the one here minding your own business, I really don’t see why I should give you the luxury of just…” he made a walking motion with his fingers “passing on by.”
Party Superman. Fuck yeah I’m the Party Superman…first smart thing you\'ve said, my Indie friend
“Yeah\'n I might be Party Superman, but I’m no flea. You can tell a dog to shoo and it’ll go, and the flea goes with it. So I think you’ve got me mislabeled, Indie” he had just enough movement in his ankle to nose the inside of the vampire’s thigh, “because I\'m no loyal puppy: I do what I want, wherever I want, and go when I want. You can’t ‘shoo’ me anymore than you can convince yourself you want me gone.”
He straightened up, leaning back on his hands and looking the vampire over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for
a crack. A flaw in the wall. A foothold…
and so he was equally unsure if he’d yet found it or not. Or why he was looking for it.
Because it’s a game. And I don’t lose. I won\'t lose, even if I don\'t know the price of winning.
-
The redhead was frowning even more darkly now, squirming away from the foot nudging his thigh and sitting up a little straighter in the process. The logic behind the kid\'s statement was what annoyed him more than anything else.
"Well, what is your fucking name then, dickhead?" he grumbled, taking his gaze off the kid\'s smarmy face in order to see what was likely to be accomplished by that fucking foot down there. Belatedly, he realised he might be better moving his thigh on top of it, so the flea would have no momentum behind any kick he was likely to deliver, and he set about doing that instead (aiming to get the part of his leg that was close to his knee covering the arch of the other vampire\'s foot, rather than the far more sensitive part up near his groin).
"\'Cos... y\'know... I reckon Flea suits you. You\'re small and annoying and it takes an awful lot of scratching to fucking dislodge you. Unless you want me to start- oh will you just get the fuck off the table!" he interrupted himself, growing impatient with the footsies shit he was having to deal with. He looked up at the younger vampire with an expression of purest exasperation upon his face, unable to succinctly maintain a witty argument when he was a) still under the influence and b) heavily concerned with how long it would take before there was foot massaging his balls in a not-so-nice way. His grip on the kid\'s ankle tightened, and he started shoving, to get him away.
-
“Fine,” Amery conceded with a grim chuckle “but only out of the kindness of my undead heart.”
It only took a little awkward movement to get Amery off the table and into an even more awkward position, at least as far is it may be awkward for Indiana. To say that Amery was laying on Indie would have been incorrect: technically no part of his body was touching him. But in his shlump off of the booth table, he’d sort of collapsed into a face-up, bent knee position with his ass and body on one side of the other vampire\'s lap and his feet planted on the opposite side, the crook of his knees levitating over the red head’s crotch.
It was a very vulnerable position, even for a vampire, back against the seat and staring up at the ceiling with limited visibility of anything except Indiana’s face. Amery’s body language would suggest he was aware of it as well; he was tensed more than he had been, and his hands seemed ready to jump into fists and ward off any attack directed at him. But he wasn’t jumpy, and the position was definitely deliberate.
“Oh, and the name’s certainly not dickhead,” he said, “though I guess that counts as a question, instead of a command, so I suppose I should answer it. So unless you want to stick with Party Superman, you’ll have to settle for Amery.”
I prefer Party Superman, personally. But it just doesn\'t roll off the tongue...
-
"Amery?" the redhead asked in a high, disbelieving tone - like maybe the other vampire was having a lend of him - stressing the first letter deliberately. Even though he\'d been giving the arch of legs over his lap death glares that would have melted a six year old child on the spot (and made a sixteen year old run away crying, he was certain), the giving of such a girly name distracted him and changed his entire demeanour almost immediately.
"Amery," he said again, a smile growing on his previously-sneering lips and a light of humour beginning to glint in his bluish eyes. "Amery!" he repeated, a laugh bubbling out of him as it occurred to him how close to Amy such a name was and that maybe thinking of the other vampire as a bitch wasn\'t so far from the truth. "Amery!" he stressed yet again. This time a howl of laughter followed the word and the elder vampire, in all his condescension, fell into a fit of giggles that was mostly inspired by tainted blood but contributed to by a hearty disrespect for the other\'s name.
While he laughed, he relaxed, his body turning quite naturally to face the younger man as he slouched down in his seat. His right hand fell upon Amery\'s leg while his left braced him on the soft booth seat and his legs pushed him into the position, his left thigh and knee resting against the brunette\'s rear end. Eventually, the giggles subsided and he was left simply flashing his dimples at the other man, just about laying over him in quite a familiar way.
"You know, I like Flea better anyway," he told the young vampire pompously. "It\'ll give you a lot more street cred than Amy, too. Of course, even Party Superman has benefits over that. Tell me, your mother didn\'t like you much, did she? Was it a long and gruelling labour so she needed to punish you when you finally plopped out?" he asked with interest, a chuckle or two occasionally interrupting his words as he grinned at his companion, hoping to dislodge him from his company with pure spite, if orders wouldn\'t work.
-
Dickhead.
“You’re saying it wrong; but I figure you’re counting that as part of the joke, huh.” Amery said, as nonchalantly as he could manage, and closed his eyes. He brought his hands up and behind his head and rode out the wave of nomenclature ridicule as best he could. That is, without throwing punches or landing a heel in those highly referenced genitals that were now conveniently facing his direction…
For a moment, he took the idea seriously. To remind the red head that he ain’t nobody’s bitch.
But he was trying to make a different point at the moment, and whether it would make it through translation was entirely dependent on whether or not he could keep his shit together for a second and half in pursuit of greater rewards. Good things come to those who wait--And that was in no way a reference to the immortal thigh now pressed against his ass, among other things. Though he’d do what he had to. Or felt like at the time.
“‘least I had the balls to answer you straight, red. You ain’t got no business with my name, but I gave it. Then again,” he hesitated, and opened his eyes mostly, and they flickered with mischief under half closed lids, “maybe I didn\'t do it for you. Maybe we all just get the urge to give away personal information every now and then, 66 Pandenning Court?”
He looked at the other vampire for a long moment. There was a grin on his lips, something halfway between seductive...
...and malicious.
-
A look that was supposed to be a cold sneer of disdain greeted Amery\'s comment - well, that was what it felt like it was, on the inside of the redhead\'s face. On the outside, it actually just looked like a mulish pout before he deliberately looked away, eyes seeking something to look at besides the boy just about in his lap. The bumping, grinding flesh on the dance floor did well enough.
"Yeah, well," he spat sulkily, conceding that Amery had a point. He\'d not understood why he\'d gone and said that himself and the less said about it
still... he remembers it, remembers where you live
Never came to visit
but he could, if he wanted
Why would he want?
you never know
What the fuck do I care?
you like him
The fuck I do!
he\'s got potential
... s\'pose...
now, the better, in his opinion. He had to change the subject, but didn\'t quite know how or where to go with this conversation, which was beginning to irritate the fuck out of him. "Everybody does stupid shit once in a while," he added, before being compelled to declare his current state of being.
"I\'m bored," he announced, watching a particularly pretty blonde weave and twirl her way along the edge of the pulsing mass of beings on the floor. The coloured lights turned the blank palette that was her hair a myriad of shades as he watched, feeling a bit more lucid now and pleased that that idiot girl\'s blood was finally being of some use. "I need a fuck or... something," he decided, crinkling his face up as he tasted the words but finding them not to his liking.
It wasn\'t quite right, what he\'d said. He didn\'t just need a fuck, he needed something more. He needed shit in his life to turn around or change for the better or something more meaningful to come along. His mind wandered, his fingers unconsciously caressing the material covering the leg arched over his lap as he daydreamed about turning up to the next crew reunion with Amery in tow. Reed thought he\'d come out... wait \'til he told all those fuckers that he was a vampire and introduced them to his new vampire friend... that would be fucking hilarious... end his days with the crew, no doubt (though they hadn\'t called him, so maybe those days were over with already, and he just hadn\'t got the fucking memo)... but hilarious all the same. A sultry smile spread across his face at the thought of it, what he\'d said already forgotten.
-
In his momentary victory, (apart from adding a mark to his mental scoreboard) Amery took the moment also to adjust his balls, and then shift his back slightly so as to keep himself from slipping off the bench, as his torso had been starting to do.
It didn\'t occur to Amery that such a suggestive gesture as grabbing his balls may be perceived as, well… a suggestive. After all, Amery had used similar tactics on the redhead before. But this time, it wasn’t to be a source of such flattery: his balls were simply awkwardly placed, and so he un-awkwardly rearranged them. Vampire or not, the basic needs of the everyman do not change…
“Or something.” Amery agreed. He himself wasn’t watching the dance floor, as his eyes were shut. Instead he was doing a little daydreaming of his own. Surprisingly, however, it had little or nothing to do with the immortal he was currently stretched about on. At least, at first. Seeing as the eerily kind caressing of his leg was a constant reminder, should he begin to doze or forget, that he did just happen to be stretched about on another immortal. How one thing leads to another. Hadn\'t they been beating the shit our of each other a few weeks ago?
you mean Indie beatin the shit out of you
“By the way, was that a pick up line?” Amery opened one eye and peered curiously at the other vampire, “because if so…”
he gave a low whistle,
and then a chuckle,
but only because he couldn’t hold it in.
-
The redhead emitted an exhalation of purest disdain and suddenly found himself indignant... and justifying. "Yeah right," he mocked, "because that is exactly what I need to end this shitty night. First, the stripper turns out to be the fucking poster girl for soccer mums everywhere, then I take a drink from this drug-fucked zombie kid who still hasn\'t got the Hell outta\' my system, then there\'s that stupid bitch that let me feel her up but didn\'t even turn on the juice," he sneered, waving the hand that had been fiddling with Amery\'s pants leg imperiously towards the dance floor, "and then I decide I\'ll top it all off by shoving my cock into you? PLEASE!"
By the end of it, he\'d got so worked up and depressed that he was yelling. In frustration, he weaved his right arm beneath the crook of Amery\'s legs and lifted them enough so that he could slide to the right, towards where his neglected coat had given up being crumpled on the chair and, at some point, slid to the floor, and where he could exit the booth without too much fuss. "I\'m going home," he declared, with all the stoic righteousness gifted to drunk or high people everywhere, shooting his companion an imperious look before sliding in the opposite direction, scooping up his coat as he went and then attempting to extricate himself from the booth with as much grace as he could muster.
Of course, despite his rousing exit speech, he still was mostly under the influence, so graceful was certainly not the way to describe his movements. Still, he managed to get his longass legs out and stumble to his feet in quite a timely manner, folding his coat imperiously over his right arm instead of putting it on because, in his mind\'s eye, that added a lot more dignity to this departure. Chin raised nobly, he then gave Amery a nod that was farewell (to him) and headed for the front of the club, knowing he had no short walk ahead of him but that it would do him good. Clear his head in the cool night air. Until he found a cab free, anyway.
-
For the most part, Indie’s pissy-fit zoomed past Amery, but the last line caught him on the jaw and jerked his attention from the nonsensical wanderings his mind had been engaging in, shifting his demeanor from passively content to thoroughly piqued.
If that dickhead thought his dick head was getting anywhere near Amery’s ass… well, s\'about time shit got straightened out.
Amery sat up pretty damn straight after that, and followed the other vampire out of the booth with slightly more grace (unintentionally, of course.) Once he was out of the booth and a step behind the redhead, he took no time in getting to his point.
Since he had no confidence that other vampire would voluntarily stop to listen if Amery simply starting talking (even though that’s exactly what had happened in all times previous), he took a fist full of the vampire’s draped coat and gave it a good tug to pull the vampire around. He spoke in a lower voice, unlike the redhead’s previous outburst. And although it would be doubtful a mortal could hear it over the club noises, Amery was confident that it would be all too clear to Indiana. But just in case…
“Let’s get this fuckin clear, okay?” he started, his eyes unblinking as they often were when he was trying to make a point “Personally, I don’t give a shit about your problems. Maybe we ain’t beating the shit out of each other, but I’ve got no reason to give a shit about you either. And though I might be younger and slower and weaker than your grampa ass, there ain’t no way you’re sticking your grampa prick in mine. You got it? I ain’t no one’s bitch; least of all yours…” He took a breath, having spoken the previous all in one continuous string. He was actually rather close to the other vampire, having instinctively gotten a little up into the other’s face.
Very mortal like, Amery.
“So go on home, if you like. Bleed a bitch. Screw one of your real butt buddies—I don’t give a fuck. Sober up, or screw yourself over, all the same fucking shit to me. I could go on into immortality without you,” it was unclear if the last part was true or not, but it was certainly said with some seriousness “but I don’t reckon you’ll let me be, not now. Maybe I’m wrong, Indie, but I doubt it. So remember this much at least: If you wanna play, you’ve gotta play my game by my rules,”
He snorted, with a little more disdain than he was presently feeling, “or else I’ll just play you.”
-
(ooc WARNING: BIG Godmode upcoming! If you believe I overstepped the bounds of my superior strength etc., let me know so I can revise! I tried to keep it conservative and imagined that Amery would be surprised because he wouldn\'t be expecting this reaction out of nowhere, so that would aid me in getting this done, but if you feel it\'s excessive, say so :o))
It was all a dazzling string of posturing as far as the elder vampire was concerned, his addled brain only able to pick out certain words and phrases while the rest slid into oblivion. It didn\'t matter, though, for the effect was the same in the end; he saw white. Not red, he was too instantly furious for that, all he could suddenly see was a haze of light around the figure of Amery, who appeared to be pulsing and looming, larger than life in the centre of his vision.
Risk... you\'re in Risk... you\'ll get your fucking shit shut down if you overreact
He grabbed the immortal\'s upper arm in a vice-like grip that would not be refused and used his superior strength and size to frog march Amery towards the shadowy hallway that led to the private rooms. Every time the fledgling attempted resistance, he would shake the fuck out of him while he kept on shoving, attempting to rattle the kid\'s teeth out of his head en route. If he got to their destination all googly-eyed and gummy, all the fucking better.
It was strange, how much clarity the redhead had now that he\'d welcomed fury into his soul; he strode Amery past a number of gauzy curtains, sensing occupants within them, and then one more room for good measure. He finally turned into one whose feature furniture was a blue velvet love seat, sitting behind a little coffee table that held the obligatory burning candle of ambience.
\'Indiana\' didn\'t waste any time taking in the sights. He bullied Amery through the wispy curtain and straight towards the settee, his coat having fallen negligently off his arm somewhere along the way. Without pause, he got a grip on the fledgling\'s hair with his free hand and used that to lever the object of his anger down onto the furniture. The more Amery fought, the more the larger, stronger vampire liked it, a sneer of a grin splitting his lips over glistening fangs as he took great delight in shoving the kid\'s face fully into the soft seat before him; he didn\'t need to breathe, after all, and the scent of sins gone by that had stained the oft-used love seat might provide a pleasant background aroma for \'Indie\'s\' next words.
A few swift kicks to the back of Amery\'s legs - strong enough to break a mortal\'s bones clear in half - would have him kneeling on the carpet, face pressed into the seat by a hand at the back of his head, one arm pinned viciously at an extreme angle up his back (the strain on the socket had to be excruciating but it was fantastic leverage for keeping the bucking vampire\'s torso down) and his ass and legs being pummelled every time he moved them in an effort to get away by a bony knee or a finely-dressed foot.
Very deliberately, he ground his crotch against Amery\'s upturned ass, shoving hard into him to mimic fucking him so that the kid\'s face likely slid a little, across the blue velvet surface of the couch. "I should play your game by your fucking rules or you\'ll play me, is that right, cunt?" the redhead snarled in rage, still seeing that dancing white aura surrounding the fledgling he was dominating, completely fed up with all the bullshit this little prick spouted on about.
It took him a few moments to realise he might need to loosen his grip on the fucknut\'s head, in order to allow him to mewl out a response, so he eventually did, not fully cognisant of the fact that he was still slamming his crotch against the boy\'s ass until arrhythmic words began to jerk out of him (then he stopped and simply leaned against him).
-
(S’all good, home dog. I deserve it after my absence anyway. Plus, it definitely moved things along. No problems with it has I ^^ oh, and P.S. this post is written at 3 something AM my time and with four pints of beer working their way out of my system. All the keys have doubles, but I think the post makes sense despite it. Though only after about four edits. Hopefully I\'ll think the same when I read over it tomorrow.)
Amery didn’t mewl.
In fact, mewl was not even a word in Amery’s vocabulary. Though that wasn\'t really surprising.
Just because fighting back was useless, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to. After all, hadn’t that been one of the things he’d so liberally pointed out: you’re older and faster and stronger than I am. He’d made it clear that he couldn’t fight off Indie, but, again, that didn’t mean he was going to just go with the flow. Ride it out. Fuck that. Though the redhead might have managed to fanangle him into some shady ass, veiled-off, blue velvet couched little nook and cranny, Amery certainly hadn’t gotten there skipping along at his own free will. Every second of the whole ordeal every muscle was clenched and fighting, and though it might not have made any difference, at least the redhead had it in his fucking head that Amery wasn’t going just be pushed around and deal with it. No one fucked with Amery, without getting fucked with in return,
and that’s a fucking promise
or so he\'d always managed to make it.
The impulse to gasp for air (again, so very mortal) was overrode only by his desire to appear unaffected. That is, as unaffected as one can appear when on one’s knees, face shoved into a tacky sofa with a malignant vampire dry humping his ass and one arm pinned behind his back at an un-ignorable angle. When his head was freed enough to jerk away from the nasty smelling velvet, he managed to take a moment to collect himself. Which was rather rare, actually. Though a moment, in Amery terms, was about a quarter or a second, it was still rather impressive.
But even so it gave his undead mind time to choose a plan of attack more fitting the situation. As obvious intimidation was obviously not the most effective. Indie, at least at the moment, wasn’t biting. So on went different bait, a new tackle. And he prayed to nothing in particular that this would be more effective.
“Yeah that’s fucking right, you dumb shit—do you have any idea what the hell you’re doing? You don’t know shit about me, you realize that?: you don’t know where I’m from, or what I’ve got going, or more importantly, who the fuck’s got my back. You think I can afford to fuck with your head and not have something or someone to back up all my shit—you think that, really? Well you better fucking reconsider, Indiana” he growled the words, using the vibrations to cover the slight shake in his voice the best that he could. And though it worked pretty well, being pinned in a rape-ish position did not exactly inspire in him the smoothest vocals: more like blind rage and pure terror. After all, getting unconsentingly butt-fucked, even in pretend, wasn’t exactly on Amery’s agenda.
The key, however and like always, was to play up what little advantage one had. Even if it, too, was all pretend.
“so what the fuck you gunna do, Indie? Huh? I suggest you choose your next move really fucking carefully…”
oh fuck I’m totally roasted...jesus christ how’d I get into all this shit…I should have just fucking sucked up to that blonde bitch…what the hell was his name?...god damn it I don’t remember…the luminary or some shit?...I don’t know, but maybe I could use it
name drop
it’s all I got.
-
The longer, angrier vampire sprawled along his victim, so that his lips were brushing Amery\'s right ear and every other bit of his front was in contact with the youngster\'s back. He had the insane urge to bite the fucking ear off - it was somewhat of a distracting thought as he tried to get another couple of comments out.
"Yeah?" he sneered, his voice little more than a sibilant hiss. "\'N\' how the fuck they gonna\' stop me ripping your fucking HEAD CLEAR OFF RIGHT NOW?" he demanded, his voice rising as he embraced the anger roiling through him, like the ocean cradles seaweed. "Are they here, bitch?" he mocked, making a show of raising himself up a little and twisting and turning his head to look about the room rapidly, like someone was about to appear any second. Amusingly, he lifted and twisted Amery\'s head in exact unison with his own, forcing the youngster to look in the exact same directions at the same time, though his view was nothing but blue couch.
"I didn\'t think so!" the redhead announced triumphantly and slammed the other immortal\'s face back into the cushion of the love seat so hard that he was just about buried in as far as his ears - though not so far that the rest of his words would be missed. "In fact, if I so desired, I could strip you now and fuck you first-" a pointy left elbow slammed into the hollow at the back of Amery\'s head, where nape becomes skull, so that \'Indiana\' could transfer control of the other\'s imprisoned hand to his left.
This left his right hand free to grope roughly wherever it chose to go, yanking Amery\'s singlet clear of his pants so that he could viciously pinch at his hips - like some sort of weird farmer sizing up stock for sale - skim a broad hand over his straining, muscular belly, scratch with mocking gentleness down the boy\'s back or fiddle with the belt buckled over a previously-unmolested crotch (though it was rather difficult with it pressed to the couch). Of course, Amery had a free hand and it certainly did its best to fight the redhead\'s advances off, but it had no hope of stopping him, causing a cruel laugh to float free of \'Indie\'s\' lips.
"Ooh yes, fight back bitch, I like it rough, you\'re just making me harder," he crooned his insidious lies, tugging at Amery\'s pants with no real intention of pulling them down but wanting to scare the kid properly (the fact that hewas unable to move off to accommodate that - due to his ingenious arm holding/head pinning technique - also prevented the ingenue\'s pert little ass from being revealed to the sputtering candle behind them). "Where the fuck\'s your backup now? I\'m not playing your game by your rules, so what\'s your safety word, hmm? When do they come swinging out of the closet to kick my ass and stop me doing whatever... the fuck... I want?"
His final words were said with a great deal more venom, slowly, deliberately and furiously, the depth of his tone sinking to an impossibly low bass as he gave up the pretense of groping the boy pinned beneath him. In one fluid motion, he then pushed himself up and off, taking a couple of steps back to give the other room to get himself up and sorted. He expected retribution after his little show of superiority and did wonder who Amery had backing him up - that was also part of the reason he stepped away now. If someone was watching out for the kid (and it was entirely possible in a crowded joint like Risk), he didn\'t want to be caught with his own pants down, should they decide to charge in. This whole exchange had only taken a few minutes and \'Indie\' was now standing clear, with his back to a wall and a good view of the doorway, just in case. One could never be too careful.
He watched the youngling closely, braced for him to charge and hoping that they didn\'t go through a wall or two. He doubted he\'d be able to foot the cost of fixing up any structural damage he was responsible for, given that most of his money had been poured into his house.
-
AHHMOTHAFUCKER!!!!
It had been a long time since Amery had been so enraged. And moreover, it had been a long time (if ever) since he’d been on the receiving end of another’s rage with nothing-he-could-do-about-it. He might have managed a few hits at the amusement park; but this was different, close quarters, and he was already effectively pinned before he even knew they were fighting, not to mention he was
younger, slower, weaker yeah I got it—god fucking damn it!
He was being manhandled. He was being humiliated. He was being threatened. He was being groped, and used and fucking molested! And he wasn’t fucking going to forget it! Even if it was all fucking pretend it wasn’t fucking funny!
Amery didn’t bother or (more convincingly) couldn’t trust himself or (even more believably) was too filled with blind rage to make his mouth effectively form words during the whole ordeal. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear. He still had ears, goddamn it, and listening to the lines and lines of bullshit (or not bullshit) streaming from Indie’s mouth was alone enough to set him off. He was gunna kill this mother fu—!
--and then he was free.
The lack of pressure was such a welcome void, that when Amery’s straining muscles no longer had anything to fight against, their accumulative effort just pushed out in all directions and consequently he didn’t go anywhere. As much as instinct (and Amery style) was screaming: GET UP ON YOUR FUCKING FEET AND FIGHT THAT PUSSY ASS MOTHER FUCKER! he just couldn’t do it. No doubt he did immediately shift into a more natural position, one that didn’t have his ass in the air and did have both arms in front of him on the couch. He appeared now like he was praying on a church pew, to the gods of lint and velvet, or perhaps to greater demons…
He turned slowly, still crouched down at the foot of the couch, but now with his back facing the tacky blue velvet and his face in the direction of Indie and the mood-candle, which was ever so eerily lighting upon the angles of his face. Or comically. Depending on the way one looked at it; quite literally.
Amery drew up a sizeable spit wad and hawked it across the room at the vampire’s foot. Then very slowly, and with as much dignity and show of confidence as he could (considering the previous ordeal) he got to his own feet, one after the other, and stood staring at the vampire from across the room. His rage was undeniably, and palpable.
There was a pause.
“I got nothing to say to you,” he rumbled through partially gritted teeth. There were some red marks on his face from being pressed into the couch, and one of his arms, the one that had been twisted, was hanging from his shoulder at a slightly more pained position than the other. Otherwise, there was really no proof of what had just occurred. Except, maybe, the look it Amery’s eyes.
“but I know someone else will.”
Had it really been THAT big of a deal? A faux-fuck and some probably idle threats?
To me, yes. Oh yes.
Amery backed a few steps towards the door, in a manner not suggesting cowardice as much as a very strong desire not to turn his backside towards the other vampire again. He wanted to charge and start slugging, fighting, mortal to mortal like it used to be. He’d never lost then. How could he have? He would have been dead.
But now things were all fucked up.
The situation was all fucked up.
Everything’s all fucked up
-
Indie\'s chin jutted out in a harsh, upward sneer, his upper lip curled in disdain. Every step the other took away from him saw him losing respect for the kid, which was both a good and a bad thing. Maybe he\'d rattled him - that had been the fucking point, right? - but he\'d never have expected the bitch to walk out after he\'d been put down.
Reed never would have. And that was exactly why it was a good thing to see this happen; because Amery wasn\'t Reed and the fact that Tom had been entertaining fancies that he was... well, this just proved his own stupidity, really. Reed was mortal and Tom had put him down and down again, just to watch the little shit claw and fight his way back. He\'d done far worse to Reed than he\'d just done to Amery, and his buddy had never backed away, crying that he was going to go tell his mummy on Tom. He just fought smarter and nastier and hit him back how it would hurt.
Inside him, sadness welled, as the stark reality of what he was seeing bitch-slapped away his pretty fantasy. Amery was not a replacement, a substitute. He was a pitiable shadow, a try-hard, a wanna-be. When the going got tough, he got shook up and left, rather than taking it in stride and let it all be character building. He had no character. Well... not the character Tom felt he\'d been seeing in him, anyway.
"You\'re fuckin\' pathetic, you know that?" the elder vampire sneered, glancing between the kid\'s retreating feet and his eyes, which looked haunted indeed. "You get all up in my face, spraying about how I need to play by your rules or you\'ll play me, so I do you the fuckin\' community service of showing you you\'d better keep your youngling fuckin\' mouth shut around those who\'ve been doing shit way longer than you - AND I let you fucking walk away without a SCRATCH! - and you can\'t take it! You get scared! You pull the plug and back away cos\' the fire got too fucking hot and burned your pretty fingers - oh but it\'s okay, right? \'Cos you got your backup out there somewhere," again, a chin jut to indicate the club beyond the doorway Amery was about to retreat through, "who\'s gonna\' make sure you can do anything you fuckin\' want and sprout all the fucking bullshit in the world, but the second somebody shows you you might be - gasp! - wrong, you\'ll get your nose wiped and your back patted and told, \'There, there, darling, everything will be alright because I\'ll go clean up your mess for you.\'"
Now the redhead\'s hands were on his hips, the disappointment he was feeling in the other the dominant expression on his features because he was embracing it, teaching himself a lesson, talking to himself inside his own head about what a stupid cunt he\'d been to see Reed where he wasn\'t. Where he\'d never be again; near him. He was pathetic, more to the point, and he was viciously telling himself this, in order to get it into his thick head and learn to move on. Wanting love and companionship were mortal things and he should\'ve fucking known better. He was mourning and it hurt but it was necessary.
"You fucking pathetic child," the elder vampire spat, these words the slowest he\'d said, considering the rest of his little speech had been delivered with breakneck rapidity. He shook his head, condemning Amery to the very bottom of his minimal pile of Shit That He Respected. "Go tell your mother on me, then. You know how to find me."
As disturbing a thought as that was, Indie pushed it down and lifted his hands, opening his arms to invite the retribution that the little Flea was threatening. He fully expected some pathetic line about coming with the thunder or bringing vengeance to come out of the kid\'s mouth and he rather hoped for it before the flea slipped out the door and was finally gone; that would be the last nail in the coffin.
-
In all Amery’s life, he’d never heard so much goddamn, boldly spoken, fire tongued –
Truth. All true.
fuck.
And though one part of Amery’s mind was hotly refuting this, the other part identified it for what it was. That part of him, the part that Nicolai had murdered then resurrected from a bloody corpse, was built on a foundation of fear, and big talk, and just enough legitimacy to back it up. Survival baby: how a fledgling born a bitch reclaims his abandoned ass and lives happily fucking after. Or some shit like that.
The funny thing was, Indie’s words didn’t hurt. They certainly didn’t feel good, but they weren’t unfamiliar. Unexpected, true, but not unfamiliar. After all, was that not what the secret, pussy ass part of Amery\'s mind had been telling him ever since the night as a mortal when he’d left his brother’s drug dealer’s flat and ventured out into the supernatural overun city? It was everything he’d known, and hidden from himself--but not denied. He never denied it; just tried to hide it. From himself. From the world. From whatever half assed emo-poetic bullshit he could think up at the moment…
Amery was stopped dead in his tracks.
He quivered.
In anger.
Fear.
Sadness.
Who could know?
The arms spread wide in front of him.
All the half-assed harassment, and half-assed make better, he’d received from Indie.
And that he’d doled out.
Well, he’d been liberal on the harassment part at least.
The make better wasn’t really his style.
not my style.
being a bitch is not my style.
but I’ve been made a bitch.
And now this confused hot-then-cold immortal comes along...
I won’t be his bitch
I won\'t do it
but
someone\'s gotta watch my ass
And then it sort of... clicked. He would tattle on Indie. Snitch, and then stand back. It made perfect sense now. After all, he only knew one person in this godforsaken world who might in the slightest give a shit about his ass. And there was certainly nothing substantial Amery could do against Indie himself. So he did need someone to have his back…
His brows were drawn, jaw clenched. His hands were in fists at his sides. He took a step forward, to cancel his retreat. But he didn’t go a step further, to confirm an Indie-victory. He just couldn\'t.
“You want me to go rat on you? Fine. I said I knew someone who cared, and I do. I don’t know if he wants to admit it, or even knows it, but if anyone in this fucked up world would protect my ass from those who’d go and take it, it’d be him…”
Amery paused, giving that a moment to sink it. But it lacked conviction and it was obvious enough. He bowed his head, and took a very deep mortal breath. Then he looked the redhead square in the eye:
“I’ve got shit on my mind, Indie.”
And he proceeded to snitch. He told all. From the moment on the amusement park bench, up until the moment at present, all their shared history rehashed Amery-style until he’d nothing left to say, except
“so...I guess I’m not winning anymore, am I?”
And then he fell quiet. Though he still looked all the angry, brooding youth, something had softened. Not weakened, but softened.
Nevertheless, he was on his toes. This shit could go bad real quick. And he knew it.
He might have been just a child.
But he wasn’t a fucking idiot.
-
He listened to what was, essentially, a rebuttal to his own speech with shifting emotions that showed too damn clearly on his face. He knew it, he could feel his features changing whenever the kid said something new but it all struck home, twanged cords or whatever the fuck the phrase was, and he couldn\'t hold himself very well in check.
Maybe it was because, after the adrenalin had stopped surging and in the wake of the fury, there was just this bleak emptiness that he was forcing himself to acknowledge and struggling to accept. The lack of anyone important, the loss of the one who was, the shadow behind the movement and the rut left behind the wheel. He was negative space. Then, suddenly, here was this little fucker telling him that actually, no, he was actually kind of positive space to him, in his eyes and that, for all the flea\'s big talk, he actually had seen sense.
It was the closest thing to an apology he was likely to hear out of Amery\'s mouth and he knew that, but it made him scowl and shoo away any expressions of shock or enlightenment he\'d previously worn. There went his perfect bloody excuse. There went his slap-me-in-the-face-and-call-me-Spanky understanding of the grand revelation that he was pining for Reed and had to get over him, because he was seeing him where he wasn\'t.
There went his alibi. Quite suddenly, the kid did the neatest about-face he\'d seen in a while and made him simultaneously feel hopeful, disappointed and excited. He shouldn\'t be excited, because he was projecting and nurturing and it was fucking unhealthy. In the end, it was all he could say, too. His hands had dropped throughout the kid\'s talking and were fisted inside the pockets of his dress pants, a little defensively, really, the scowl still dominating his forehead. Many words of response had flashed through his head while Amery spoke and though he wanted to blurt them all out, that wasn\'t what came.
"You remind me of someone," he said awkwardly, running his gaze the length of Amery\'s body before looking back up at him again. "Someone I...
love
loved
wanted to spend eternity with
need
needed
scared away
fell for
want
regret tasting
want to taste again, every minute of every night, like a caffeine addict craves coffee or a junkie craves smack
need to get beyond
wanted you to be
realised you\'re not
hope you can be better than
can\'t get back," he admitted, the frown turning inward as he examined his own honest words and the jumble of thoughts and feelings that arose from them. "It\'s fucked up," he warned, giving a helpless shrug that was the clearest summation of events he could come up with. Having Reed and losing Reed had been the singular most confusing time of his life and to transfer those hopes and maybe even some of those feelings to a smart-mouthed youngling that was nowhere near the hot shit he advertised himself to be was dangerous and stupid. It was fucked up.
But Amery had laid his cards on the table and now he was fairly warned that though the elder vampire might give a shit about the kid enough to teach him a few humbling lessons and offer out a few drinking tips his sire seemed never to have bothered to share, it wasn\'t altruistic. There was a shadowy third party at play between the two of them, one Indie was doing his best to dispel but one that might cause him to act in ways that weren\'t predictable and regard Amery with possibly undeserved emotions from time to time. Yeah, he\'d been fairly warned.
-
Although Amery, while he did his little story-time sharing, had been looking Indie in the eye… well, he hadn’t really been paying attention to the other immortal—at least to see the fleeting expressions and changes in his countenance. He’d been too worked up and struggling to keep his shit together and not appear a babbling fool to really pay much attention to how Indiana was reacting to it all… and now it was too late. He shoved his hands into his pockets and then squared his shoulders, which left him standing oddly, and appearing both confident and withdrawn.
“Yeah well, it’s all fucked up isn’t it?" He said, throwing his head sideways in a gesture indicating everything beyond them. It was very much a translation of Indie’s helpless shrug, only in a different motion, “That much I’m fully fucking aware of,” he finished, his voice tapering off, as though he had more to say, but couldn’t think of it.
Or had conveniently forgotten.
“...look, about your friend or whatever. I ain’t gunna say I’m sorry, because I don’t know shit about any of that. It’s none of my fucking business. But I do want to say, for better or worse: I’m not that guy. It’s all fucked up, sure, but if you got me sized up for fitting in some other fucker’s shoes…” he shook his head ever so slightly, looked down at his shoes, and then looked back up at Indie with a nervous glance, “...well, then I’m gunna cut and run.”
Amery was feeling exceedingly unlike himself. He wasn’t a big fan of all this introspective, make better shit. It made him feel like going out and beating up a stranger. Going into a bar an provoking some drunken biker skin-head, and then laying him out, smashed and bleeding, on a now three-legged pool table.
It made him feel like running all the way to the Oceanside and leaping off that jagged cliff by the lighthouse and pummeling into the dark, night water, swimming down until the pressure threatened to burst his ears, and hiding away in some underwater cave to hide from the dawning and the day. He knew of several: underwater caves. He’d spent his not long passed mortal summers at the beach… diving into the waves... he lived their now… he’d never leave…
But he was daydreaming.
There were important things to be considering.
Might be his game, now, sure, like it or not
but I’ll be damned if I won’t be putting some of
my rules
into the picture.
every man\'s got his limits
“and I’m never gunna be your bitch.”
What else.
Since if he was already going through the agony of all this brutally honest, opening his feelings bullshit, he might as well just get everything out on the table so he didn’t have to do it again any time soon. “And one of these days,” he bit the corner of his lip until it bled, this time on the inside only “I will play you. I\'m not saying that just to be a punk, either. I doubt I’ll mean to, and I might not even want to… but I know I will. Somehow, someday,”
Right. Well.
“that\'s all—all my shit; so’s you know I’m not fucking with you now…”
and now.... what?
-
He nodded when told that Amery would be gone the second he tried to overlay his Reed expectations upon him - which seemed only fair - and, by the time the kid finished talking, he\'d come to another realisation. It was stark and confronting but undeniable; Amery was nothing like Reed, not in the slightest.
He was exactly like him.
The thought wrenched at him, smothering that previous excitement and stuffing it violently into his throat, clogging him even while it infused him with fluttering terror.
Why?
Why the fuck would I...?
Why do it?
Cut and run now, don\'t fucking wait, why...?
He shook his head sharply, once, snapping the thoughts away while simultaneously pulling his hands from his pockets and pulling himself up to his full height. He didn\'t notice his hands balled into fists by his thighs. "You\'re a shitty salesman," he told Amery with a bitter, twisted smile accompanied by an equally harsh laugh (that held no humour in it whatsoever). He mulled things over for another ten or so seconds, then shook his head again, slower this time, as if he wasn\'t quite sure.
"No," he eventually stated, feeling upset and suddenly needing to be out of that room very fucking badly. His head had developed a slight wobble; his body had too and he couldn\'t quite pin down why but he didn\'t really want to, either. "Nah, don\'t worry about it," he said mildly, as if Amery had offered to go get him a cup of tea to soothe him, "you\'re right. It\'s not worth it. It\'s a bad idea. Best to leave it." Now he was nodding, and responding to a conversation that they hadn\'t quite had. He also wasn\'t maintaining eye contact, his gaze sliding around the room restlessly. "Never mind. Better luck next time, eh?" he mused, and with that, he headed for the door, intending to slip smoothly around the youngling and exit, never to see him again.
There was too much going on already and they\'d only met twice; too many expectations on both sides and neither one of them any good at being loyal or coping very well with being played. Too much hurt, too much damage and far, far too much potential for it to get so much worse. Best to cut their losses now, while it was only going to smart a bit, then fade in its own time. He\'d scoop his jacket up on his way out, grab someone to make him feel better for now and then head home to sleep.
It was a good enough ending, all things considered.