400yearsofsurvival | 12th Bite // Gonna Be a Blackout Tonight

12th Bite // Gonna Be a Blackout Tonight

[ Open Spam ]

[ The ship is pitch black, save for scattered sources of light that the crew were able to scrounge up. Displeased with being forced back into the role of an inmate, Jerry had every intention of making the best of this darkness. He had zero intention of going back to a forced diet of blood bags and good behavior.

He prowled the halls. Watching. Waiting. There were so many who needed a reminder that he was there and he wouldn't soon forget the last month. ]

[ Lydia ]

[ On the first night of the blackout, he crept into one of the few cabins he'd been invited to. He so very much wanted to get his claws into that little redhead again. But she was nowhere to be seen. He searched the ship for her, eventually finding that her scent led to a cabin he could not access. He lurked nearby for a while, waiting for her to step out. But after some time he accepted that she was hiding. Thinking she was safe. So he returned to her room to leave a little something.

On the wall above the bed was carved a message, right into the plaster of the wall. ]

Stephen
Mickey
Who's next?

[ The dot on the question mark was a silver arrowhead he'd found in the room. Embedded deep enough that Lydia won't be able to remove it with her bare hands. ]

[ Mickey part 1 ]

[ When he found his ex-underling, he had no intention of attacking. He crept up through the dark, coming right up behind Mickey. ]

You knew it would happen.

[ But before Mickey can do anything, even turn around, the vampire is gone. At least retreated into the darkness that clings to the ship. ]

[ Steve Rogers ]

[ The boy scout in the blue suit had been a thorn in his side for a very long time. Feigning that he actually cared about all of those chats they had about morality and the way they were viewed by others on the ship. He could play nice with the best of them, but after being rid of them for a month, he had no intention of having another one. So he sought out Steve.

This time, he had no intention of toying with his victim, as he was fairly certain the solider was impervious to his usual tactics. So when he did finally find his next target, he simply attacked. He launched himself from his hiding place along the ceiling, going for the man's throat. ]

[ Zane ]

[ To say Jerry was displeased was an understatement. He was surprised to find the room he woke in was his own, and not level Zero. He picked himself up from the floor, a dull anger boiling. Knocked out in a fight against a human? That was not something he was going to tolerate.

He was on the fourth floor to seek out his favorite punching bag for the past few weeks. But little did he know that Dean wasn't exactly mobile. Nor did he know that an alert had gone out from the good Steve Rogers about his actions. He waited, against inky black ceiling, waiting for Dean to emerge. But another target presented itself. One he couldn't resist. Zane.

Still attached to the ceiling by that mysterious means his kind had, he lowered himself, upside down, behind Zane. A hand shot out to grab him by the back of the shirt. To throw the mistborn with as much force as he could muster into the nearest wall. ]

[ Level Zero - Open Spam ]

[ His frustration grew even higher as he sat in that cell. Weaker than ever and doubly defeated. He was furious that he'd been unable to stay on the mirror side. That power should have been his. That infuriating human version wanted to stay on this side. It was the one thing he'd accept of such a weak version of himself. They should have stayed switched. The altruistic idiot could have stayed here and kept up his futile fight. And he could have remained where he was at home, tasked with terrorizing inmates.

Not that any of this even made a ripple on his cold and collected exterior. He leaned against the far wall, calmly scrolling through his communicator, scrubbing anything his human counterpart had left on the network. ]

-------------------------

[ Misc - Notes and things left behind by Mirror Jerry ]

Included with each letter is the following:

--Vampire strengths--
- All physical attributes are enhanced (speed, strength, endurance, etc)
- Senses are off the charts, see in the dark, hear heartbeats, smell emotions
- Rapid healing, highly resistant to damage
- Blood acts as a drug on humans, makes them compliant, unable to fight

--Weaknesses--
- Holy water burns like acid
- Sunlight is lethal
- Fire is not lethal but will slow them down
- Stake to the heart is lethal (don't miss)
- Can't enter dwellings uninvited
- Mountain ash works as a barrier (thanks, Stiles)

--Turning--
Vampires turn by bite alone. One bite is possible, if enough blood is drained. But they usually prefer to do it over multiple bites.
Once turned, a vampire maintains who they were as a human. But any warmth, remorse or morality is stripped away.

---------

Mickey: A bundle of stakes left on his coffee table, with a letter.

Mickey,
I'm leaving these in the hopes that by some power you'll be restored to being human. I meant what I said, that you didn't deserve it. Especially not you. I've only been able to get to know you through your cabin and what I've seen on the network. Even if we're forced back to our own sides, my thoughts will be with you. You deserve every possible chance at whatever deal you've made.

Stay Strong,
- Jerry

P.S. Hope you don't mind but I cleaned up the place. It was the least I could do.

Stephen: (left in Mickey's cabin) A small bundle of stakes with a letter attached.

Stephen,
I only had the one chance to talk to you, and I can't even be sure you'll be back any time soon. Your counterpart's a bit severe and doesn't seem to trust me too much. Hell, I doubt you've got much reason to trust me, either. But I wanted to be sure you got these. Nothing stops a vampire from going for the throat like a stake to the chest. And from what I've been told, you're something of a special interest to him. If you can get your hands on some holy water, even better.

Be strong and don't let him get to you. With luck, he'll lose interest. Wish I had a way of telling you this all in person. Just know that I'll be rooting for you, even if it's from the other side.

All the best,
- Jerry

Stiles: A letter given to Lydia along with the stakes he'd given her.

Stiles,
I've been hearing about all the great things you've done and I'd give just about anything to shake the hand of such a brave soul. But watch your back, all that I admire about what you've done is going to make you a prime target. Just try not to provoke anymore attacks, if you could. I'm sure your friend would greatly appreciate that.

Stay safe,
- Jerry

Allison: A letter left with M!Allison, with the request to keep it safe for her counterpart. Along with a small bundle of stakes.

Allison,
It warms my heart to know that not everyone is completely twisted between our two ships. From what I've been told, you are a strong and accomplished young woman. I only wish I'd had the chance to meet you. And I hope you're proud to know that your counterpart is nothing but an inspiration. As twisted as my side is, she remains true of heart. Should I be forced to return to the other ship, my thoughts will be with you. I hope you are able to continue protecting your friends.

Best wishes,
- Jerry

Dean: There is only a letter, left in Dean's cabin, on the table.

Dean,
I'm writing this in the blind hope that you're nothing like your counterpart. I just wanted to offer my thanks in your efforts to rid this ship of it's vampire problem. And from what I've been told, you're an even more seasoned hunter than I am. If I'm still here when you find this, maybe we could hit the pub together. I'd love to hear your story.

Keep up the good work,
- Jerry

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[The dark has scarred Morgana in the past, and though all the visible markings of it are gone now, she still carries those wounds with her. So when she moves through the Barge, it's with a ball of light floating above her.

It doesn't keep her from wrapping her arms around herself on that first day back, though. Well - not back. She never went anywhere. But it doesn't feel as though anything is back to normal, not while they're sitting still in the dark.

Morgana has seen this before, sitting here dead in space. But she didn't have memories of fading away, then. And she didn't have memories of the pit. As she walks down the corridor on level eight, she shudders, looking over her shoulder at - something, though she couldn't say what.]

[ He'd been watching her. Following her. She was everything he'd wanted to find. Timid. Fragile. Alone. How trusting were these people that even in the dark they ventured out alone? He stayed out of the reach of her light at first. She wasn't anyone he'd crossed paths with before, but he'd not spoke with Mickey, Dean or that woman before the fire.

Only when he was certain she wasn't bait for something he'd missed did he act. Glancing behind her gave him the perfect opening. He was silent when he came close. So unless she had some extra sense he wasn't aware of, he'd be mere inches from her when she glanced back. Looking her over with eyes black as the corridor around them. ]

[Some magic folk in her world had heightened senses, after a fashion: Morgana's had always been a little duller. So while she feels - watched, like spiders slinking over her skin, she doesn't hear him, doesn't sense him at all until she nearly collides with him.

Then he's there, less than a foot in front of her, and it's all she can do to stopper a cry; the ball of light above her shivers, dims and brightens. She tries to force a smile as she takes a step back, but it wavers and she lets it fall.]

There are better ways to catch someone's attention.

[ His gaze briefly sweeps up to the ball of light when it flickers, idly wondering if there were a way to extinguish it. He'd have such an advantage in the pitch dark. But there were also benefits to her being able to see him. He looked back to her, a subtle sort of amusement in his features. ]

Is there.

[ He moved forward, reclaiming the space she'd put between them and then some. A hand reached out for her waist, to pull her closer. To stop her from backing away any further. ]

[She was already shifting to step away again as he moved in, but indignation flares the moment he touches her. Morgana presses both hands against his chest, pushing to keep some distance between them.]

Get your hands off me.

[ While her hands on her chest seemed to halt him from moving any closer, it seemed to have no other effect. He just smiled, unphased by her demand.

His free hand moved to her wrist, fingers curling around it. He pulled, his movement deceptively gentle for the strength he applied, to remove the one hand from his chest. ]

[Incredibly deceptive. Morgana shoves when he shows no signs of listening, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip at the same time.]

I said let go! Who in hell do you think you are?

[ The faintest smile tugged onto his lips, showing a rather obvious pair of fangs. And still, he said nothing. Instead, his grip tightened on her wrist as he turned it. Forcing her arm closer to him. He leaned over, letting his lips ghost over the tender skin on the interior of her wrist, while keeping his gaze on her face. ]

[It's not the fangs themselves that make her eyes widen. It's the way his mouth trails toward the pulse point in her wrist. She spent too long reading too many medical texts not to know exactly where that is, and Morgana has no intention on discovering if he knows the same.

He's strong, she can tell that much as he drags her closer; too strong to fight off. So she stops trying, throwing her free fist at his jaw instead. It's not smooth or practiced: put a sword in her hand and she'd be a world more graceful, but brawling was never part of her lessons.]

[ The punch was enough to dislodge him from his goal, head twisting to the side. But it seemed only to irritate.

He let go of her wrist, and instead reached to wrap his hand around the back of her neck. To pull her closer. Moving to get his own lips close to hers. ]

There's nothing to be afraid of.

[ His tone was almost soothing. Reassuring ]

[She strains against his hand, but he's too strong. She can't beat him in a physical contest. But then, that's never been her strong suit.]

I'm not afraid.

[She spits the words at him, baring her teeth. The irises of her eyes flare with golden light, burning bright.]

Hleap on bæc.

[It's a witch's bread and butter, in her world: the spell will hurl him away from her. She directs it at the nearest wall, hoping he cracks his head against it.]

[ It's the sort of attack he has no means of defending against. He slams hard into the wall and slides to the floor, dazed.

There's a quiver, deep underneath the cold creature he was. Something that wasn't quite fear, but was edging towards it. A reminder of the human he'd been. Fuzzy memories overlapping not once, but twice. Being thrown like that was what reminiscent of how Dean treated his human counterpart. He was not that weak.

Slowly, he picked himself up off the floor. ]

Nice trick. Won't do you much good, though.

[ He rushed toward her, trying to grab her again. One hand going for her arm, the other going to cover her mouth. ]

Scildan!

[She flinches back only slightly as he comes at her, but the shield spell holds, an invisible barrier between them. She's reminded, for just a moment, of the mirror Barge, the last time she was there - though not as herself - when she struggled with new magic for the first time.

This isn't new magic for her, though. She's been using magic for so long, now. It's a part of her, as much as his fangs are a part of him.]

It's hardly a trick. You know, I've wondered: are your kind truly dead?

[Her eyes turn gold again, and she stretches her hand out toward him, miming squeezing something between her fingers. He'll find it growing increasingly difficult to breathe, and though she doesn't intend to actually kill him, she has no problem holding up the ruse.]

[ He ran into that barrier, rather undignified, and staggers back from it. It wasn't the first invisible barrier he'd encountered on the ship, but others had been created by something physical. Wards or black dust. It was enough that he glanced to the floor between them, but there was nothing to be found.

He looked back to her with a subtle snarl. He could have tried to push passed it, or he could have walked away. There was easier prey out there. But one thing was certain, he had no intention of giving her an answer.

Not that he could, of course. As that magic started to force the breath from his lungs. A subtle tension settled into his features as he resisted showing any sign of even feeling it. And slowly, that snarl turned into a smile. It was uncomfortable, sure, but he slept smothered in the earth. And he doubted a frail looking thing like her would push it to the point of being lethal, even to a human. ]

[The smile was unnerving, she could give him that, and though her hand want to close, to curl into a fist and crush his windpipe, she made herself drop her arm to the side instead, abandoning the spell.]

Shame, [she murmured, watching him silently a moment. Her chin lifted, and despite being shorter, she put on a good show of looking down her nose at him. When her eyes flashed gold again, she gestured with her hand, almost nonchalant, to throw him across the hall again. Harder, this time: she wanted to be on her way.]

[ When the spell released, he took a slow breath. It was obvious, but not rushed or frantic. As if he'd been prepared for her to let go. He opened his mouth, ready with a quip to respond to her failed spell. But before he could get the words out, he found himself colliding with the wall. His head smacked hard against it and he dropped to the floor. And for a moment, he was too dazed to so much as move. ]

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12th Bite // Gonna Be a Blackout Tonight

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