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The Breaking Point [OPEN Bendytimed to shortly after the Meat n Greet, and the announcement therein]
Characters: Samuel Henderson,
Location: Corridor outside the Obs Deck, a bit out of the way
Time: Immediately following the explanation of the current state of affairs re: the Ohm, worlds, and whatnot.
Summary: Sam loses it. And nearly himself in the process.
Warnings: Definite blood warning, and anyone that tags may be attacked. Poke me on AIM (girlnamedlance) or via OOC comment if you want to work out something specific. Generally, I'm open to anything, I just don't want any kind of long lasting damage. And I'd like a little chaos to ensue before Spike, Leon, or anyone subdues him. And if he ends up in the brig awhile, I totally understand. Lastly, multiple threads are a-okay. 8D
It would be easier to let go. Give up. Let the beast that slept inside him take hold and exact its revenge for the deaths of his friends and family. But no. It wasn't these peoples' fault. They were all gone. His brother, Jared. His beloved wife, Angelina. His mentor, Dr. Crawford. Lord Ruthwen himself. That a man that had survived so much could be dead just didn't seem real. That the single oldest corporeal entity on Earth was gone...
He ran from the Observation Deck, and blindly made a few turns until the dull noisome drone of the new arrivals faded to nothing. All of his medicinal poise was gone, in its place, was pain he'd long thought he would never have to feel. He'd foolishly grown complacent. He pressed his back against the wall, but his legs shook. His fingers lengthened, grew more bestial. A ring of blood formed and dripped down his fingers as his expanding flesh struggled to overcome the constricting wedding band. His nails became claws, razor sharp and predatory. His eyes were a deep blood red, and the whites bloodshot, giving him a maddened appearance.
How could someone like him be the only one left? How was he supposed to be some kind of chosen when he could fill a page with names of people that would be better suited to this task than himself. It was all a joke. He didn't have the strength to do this, in any sense. That their blood had been spilt for some unknown purpose...
Blood. He could smell it. His own, but even just that was enough. He breathed heavily, his jaw slack, as his fangs grew longer. The drone of voices grew louder in his ear, as his senses elevated. They would have no idea what had hit them before they were dead.
--No! Sam struggled against the bloodlust. Suddenly, he felt as though it had been far too long since he'd last fed. He folded his arms, as though he were physically restraining the reaction inside of him. He clenched his upper arms with his claws, piercing straight through to his skin. The thicker scent of blood in the air only made things worse. He screamed as he fought to regain control. If he hurt anyone he would never forgive himself. If he took anyone's life, he had only his own to offer in reparation.
Location: Corridor outside the Obs Deck, a bit out of the way
Time: Immediately following the explanation of the current state of affairs re: the Ohm, worlds, and whatnot.
Summary: Sam loses it. And nearly himself in the process.
Warnings: Definite blood warning, and anyone that tags may be attacked. Poke me on AIM (girlnamedlance) or via OOC comment if you want to work out something specific. Generally, I'm open to anything, I just don't want any kind of long lasting damage. And I'd like a little chaos to ensue before Spike, Leon, or anyone subdues him. And if he ends up in the brig awhile, I totally understand. Lastly, multiple threads are a-okay. 8D
It would be easier to let go. Give up. Let the beast that slept inside him take hold and exact its revenge for the deaths of his friends and family. But no. It wasn't these peoples' fault. They were all gone. His brother, Jared. His beloved wife, Angelina. His mentor, Dr. Crawford. Lord Ruthwen himself. That a man that had survived so much could be dead just didn't seem real. That the single oldest corporeal entity on Earth was gone...
He ran from the Observation Deck, and blindly made a few turns until the dull noisome drone of the new arrivals faded to nothing. All of his medicinal poise was gone, in its place, was pain he'd long thought he would never have to feel. He'd foolishly grown complacent. He pressed his back against the wall, but his legs shook. His fingers lengthened, grew more bestial. A ring of blood formed and dripped down his fingers as his expanding flesh struggled to overcome the constricting wedding band. His nails became claws, razor sharp and predatory. His eyes were a deep blood red, and the whites bloodshot, giving him a maddened appearance.
How could someone like him be the only one left? How was he supposed to be some kind of chosen when he could fill a page with names of people that would be better suited to this task than himself. It was all a joke. He didn't have the strength to do this, in any sense. That their blood had been spilt for some unknown purpose...
Blood. He could smell it. His own, but even just that was enough. He breathed heavily, his jaw slack, as his fangs grew longer. The drone of voices grew louder in his ear, as his senses elevated. They would have no idea what had hit them before they were dead.
--No! Sam struggled against the bloodlust. Suddenly, he felt as though it had been far too long since he'd last fed. He folded his arms, as though he were physically restraining the reaction inside of him. He clenched his upper arms with his claws, piercing straight through to his skin. The thicker scent of blood in the air only made things worse. He screamed as he fought to regain control. If he hurt anyone he would never forgive himself. If he took anyone's life, he had only his own to offer in reparation.
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But suddenly, the monster took over. Before anyone knew what was going on, Sam darted forward, at Fletcher. All at once, boy was held down firmly with one hand. The other held his head to one side. His mouth and fangs stopped less than a half inch from the pure, unmarred skin of the boy's neck. The deadly speed followed by the absolute freeze was further evidence of the battle raging in the young vampire.
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"So, what have I caught here? The predator in his element, or the man out of his?"
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It wasn't until someone -- who was that? He knew that voice, he'd heard it recently, but his mind wasn't working properly from the fear, and he couldn't turn his head -- had grabbed onto his attacker that Fletcher was able to make his limbs work. He wiggled, tried to push the man away from him. "Get off me!"
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And while she knew fully well an attack on the deck would cause Stacy's admonishing, her vine tentacles were at the ready, her eyes on both the creature that attempted the attack and the new arrival.
"Explain yourselves."
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Evangeline did love her grandiose pseudo-moral lecturing, and never let a captive audience go to waste.
After a brief pause to let the words sink in she let him go, but if anything her smile was more unpleasant than when she'd been holding him. She wasn't freeing him, just putting him to a test on her terms.
"No," was the only answer Alessa got.
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Fletcher scrambled to his feet and backed away. Now he recognized the other girl -- he'd just met her in the Obs deck. What was going on here...?
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"In that case, I could care less about what you do, but keep Fletcher out of it. You can deal with your own problems and listen to your own stupidity on your own time."
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Did she care?
...strangely, she couldn't answer. She only came back to her own memories. And there was another nagging distraction...
She eyed Alessa. "He's all yours, is that it? Can't have him hearing any impure speech?" She chuckled. "Life gets impinged on, little..." the arrogant, taunting mask fell away as her little speech died down.
"What are you, anyway?"
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And then there was that girl, trying to dismiss her. "He belongs to no one, but I watch over him just the same. 'Impure Speech,' as you call it, means nothing to me. It is the possibility of injury."
Here, Alessa gave a rather nasty smile of her own. "We can discuss that on our own terms later, can't we? Sufficed to say, I am not one who uses taunting to make my meaning heard."
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Fletcher's eyes darted back and forth between Alessa, the other girl, and the strange man. Something was wrong with him... He seemed so sincere, and yet after what he'd just done, could he be?
Whatever it was the two girls were discussing, Fletcher felt like a lot of it was going over his head. And yet, there was something about it that was unnerving. He took the opportunity, while they were busy talking with each other, to turn tail and run back toward the Observation Deck. He had to find his brother.
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Or whatever she was supposed to be. Hopefully not another undead, that was her niche.
"Yes. Whenever you like, little saint."
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"I didn't know that, which was why I asked you to explain yourselves, which you didn't do," Alessa retorted. "If you're going to claim something ridiculous like that, you should realize what this looks like, and that I don't trust anyone or anything on the ship."
Here, Alessa looked at the girl like some irritating smell. "Do not call me that. It's both insulting and grossly inaccurate."
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At the complaint, Evangeline only smiled. "Then give me something else."
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Alessa narrowed her eyes. "There is much I could show you. If you feel so inclined, come to the City and go to the darkest, foggiest part. You will find my domain there."
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The vampire turned to make her exit.
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She left, figuring she would go back to the factory. There were a few more additions she wanted to make.