eachdraidh | iii. video. open, then unseelie-locked. backdated to the end of september, ~29-30th

[UNLOCKED: VISIBLE TO ALL.]

[Candlelight laps at the dim image of the Brucolac's face, showing up mottled scars along his cheeks. His expression is tired. Whether it's the light or exhaustion, his olive skin looks faintly greenish.]

Alyosha of Redgate is dead by the hand of Reynard the Fox.

[It's not a lie. She is exactly as deceased as he is. He sighs out a breath, tches faintly, and moves on, his hoarse, scratchy voice impassive.]

Unrelatedly, I require information on the thief who stole the feathers of the birdking. He wasn't found? Did anyone pick up a trail?

[He knows he wasn't found. Hence (partly) the current sticky situation he's in.]

[LOCKED TO UNSEELIE.]

I'm at Caer Scima.

[He hisses through his teeth, rubs his forehead; his head is pounding, thick knots of tension twisting in his temples, pain shooting down his neck, bursting behind his eyes, tightening his jaw. Bone-dry and grimly humourous, he says:]

If anyone, preferably human, feels they have a surplus of blood.

[That sentence is left unfinished, the conclusion—in his mind, at least—obvious.]

[LOCKED TO ALICE & BERSERKER.]

[Flatly:]

What the fuck happened.

- - - -

[ooc: I realised too late that dating it this way means it went up a few days before new arrivals, damn it! but PLEASE feel free to have any newbies reply a few days late, if you so wish. c: ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Never had a doctor leech you for your own good?

[—his voice is far too flat and unpleasant for that to sound like even a very dark joke.]

Ew. Of course not. Hello, outdated practices. Hello, shady medical procedures. Hello, grossness. [ ... ] Leeches are so last century.

Not so strange an idea, though, is it?

I don't care how done it was. [ ... ] It's still pretty freaking strange.

[ girl has got a problem with bloodsuckers. ]

Edited 2014-10-05 13:37 (UTC)

[He tuts.] Leeches are harmless. Quite, quite harmless. Quite useless, too, if you ask me, but there are worse things to suffer.

Sure. Whatever. It's just I have this policy that mostly involves keeping my blood in my body. [ ... ] And I hope to high heavens it's a pretty universal policy.

[ humans who willingly give their blood up? kind of a sore spot. ]

[He sighs, pressing his fingertips to his brow in an expression of exasperation. He squeezes his eyes shut. Still got that headache.]

Thankfully for all of us, it is not.

[There's a nasty, sneering lilt to his tone; his tongue flickers out.]

All of who, huh?

[ hey two can play at the sneering game. ]

You're not a leech, are you?

[It's not the moment. It touches too many damn nerves, and it comes far too soon after sinking his fangs into Alyosha for him to bear. He hisses hard and low, face suddenly twisted in anger.]

Fuck you. All of us, because every human who barters blood with me saves the neck of some other from snapping under my jaws. If I can't do this this way, I can either die a dry-mouthed wreck or live a bloody-mouthed animal. Starve or kill, and I will not starve. It's a bastard choice, a joke. Would you face me with it?

[ her heart is hardened. stony. indeed, the slayer has witnessed and had a hand in the dusting of some thousand vampires -- why should she care about this one's hard choice? she's known vampires for most of her life and only two have ever managed to make the right hard choice. and of course she comes at the situation from her own unique world view. and of course she's being hypocritical. and of course she isn't keen on suffering.

but in the end? she's the slayer. her body was built for ending vampires and her mind was shaped by that prejudice. she's not supposed to care about the undead. the bloodsuckers. the leeches. ]

I'm sure we can find someone else to make that choice for you. [ and yes perhaps that is a threat. sorta. layered there beneath the last vestige of uncertainty. after all, the guy hadn't straight up identified as a vampire. not yet. but buffy knew they was one or two roaming 'round. spike had warned her. ]

Oh, leave me be, child, [he almost groans, anger twisting to something more reminiscent of disgust and pity. It isn't her fault, not really; he's heard a lot of the same and similar during his ab-life. Right now, he's grieving for someone who is still up and walking, if unquestionably dead; it makes him feel skinned raw.]

I'm too old by far for this over-moral overweening shite.

Come on, then. Gimme a year count.

[ unimpressed though she is, she still wants the intel. ]

Really?

[Cool, mildly incredulous disdain: that, followed by a question, as if he owes her small talk? He shakes his head and cuts the feed.]

iii. video. open, then unseelie-locked. backdated to the end of september, ~29-30th

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