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Aug. 22nd, 2037 02:17 pmInbox || Visuals || Mirror || Headcanons
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Inbox || Visuals || Mirror || Headcanons
Thread tracker || HMD
Makes Him Feel Young Again
Nov. 1st, 2016 10:53 pmAs the shadows grew longer across their little suburban development, a young girl freely texted with a monster, thinking him her boyfriend. Said boyfriend was completely safe, off on some trek somewhere, probably having to do with what he assumed to be a concert they were supposed to go to. Only that boyfriend had "lost" his phone the night before. He'd heard the kid yelling about it, asking if his mother had seen it, as he turned his bedroom upside down. He'd find it. Eventually. Maybe.
Now, as the sun started to dip below the horizon, the monster waited, listening for a car. A familiar engine belonging to the one he longed for most. By the time she arrived, twilight would have started to settle over the desert. The perfect time to strike.
Can't wait
A simple text he'd sent. Teenagers were so...gullible sometimes.
Now, as the sun started to dip below the horizon, the monster waited, listening for a car. A familiar engine belonging to the one he longed for most. By the time she arrived, twilight would have started to settle over the desert. The perfect time to strike.
Can't wait
A simple text he'd sent. Teenagers were so...gullible sometimes.
16th Bite // Breaking the Wall
Feb. 6th, 2015 01:09 pm[ Video ]
[ Jerry had heard of this before--Chris had showed him an example. It was a bit strange being on the other side of it. It was both nerve-wracking and relieving that there was a chance people from home could see and hear him. Yes, see. But would that be enough to convince them he'd been turned human?
He takes a deep breath and addresses the camera. ]
If anyone from Las Vegas--anyone who knows me--there's something I've got to say. It's not something that needs to be broadcast to everyone. But please, take the fact that you can see my face as a sign that this isn't some sort of trick.
[ He feels no better for getting it out, but at least it's out. Arkin and Cambridge both said he needed to stop trying to put his problems off on others. And he was trying very hard not to, but this was quite possibly his only chance to talk to anyone from home. ]
[OOC: Welcome to Jerry's 4th-wall day post! ]
[ Jerry had heard of this before--Chris had showed him an example. It was a bit strange being on the other side of it. It was both nerve-wracking and relieving that there was a chance people from home could see and hear him. Yes, see. But would that be enough to convince them he'd been turned human?
He takes a deep breath and addresses the camera. ]
If anyone from Las Vegas--anyone who knows me--there's something I've got to say. It's not something that needs to be broadcast to everyone. But please, take the fact that you can see my face as a sign that this isn't some sort of trick.
[ He feels no better for getting it out, but at least it's out. Arkin and Cambridge both said he needed to stop trying to put his problems off on others. And he was trying very hard not to, but this was quite possibly his only chance to talk to anyone from home. ]
[OOC: Welcome to Jerry's 4th-wall day post! ]
15th Bite // Gifts and Resolutions
Dec. 31st, 2014 08:05 pm[ Hold the presses! Is that...Jerry on video?! Why yes, yes it is. And for a fleeting moment, he looks like his mirror counterpart. His hair is more disheveled, he looks to be in slight need of a shave, and he appears to be grossly lacking in sleep. He's not looking at the camera, though.
Behind him, the foot of a bed can be seen, covered in an obnoxiously pink bedspread. And stacked up there are all of the gifts he received for Christmas. All of them are untouched. All still wrapped or packed as he'd received them. Except one. Allison's. The blue velvet box lay open, but the sphere was missing. But that's cause he's got it in his hand, out of the frame. ]
It's New Year's Eve. I have seen far more than most of you, and not once have I ever made a resolution.
[ He sounds rather somber and serious for once. ]
I've...hurt a great many of you. I'm not asking to be forgiven for that. And I'm not making excuses. It's simply who--what I was. Since I've already paid a nearly fatal price because someone thought I was what I used to be, I realize I can't keep going as if I were.
[ He finally looks directly into the camera. ]
The fact that you can see me right now should be proof enough that I'm not trying to trick you. Steve Rogers, Stephen Hart, and Dillon all know the truth of this. I'm--[ It takes some effort to admit it, old prejudices die hard. ]--human.
In the new year, I resolve to be a different person. Not what I'd been before.
Behind him, the foot of a bed can be seen, covered in an obnoxiously pink bedspread. And stacked up there are all of the gifts he received for Christmas. All of them are untouched. All still wrapped or packed as he'd received them. Except one. Allison's. The blue velvet box lay open, but the sphere was missing. But that's cause he's got it in his hand, out of the frame. ]
It's New Year's Eve. I have seen far more than most of you, and not once have I ever made a resolution.
[ He sounds rather somber and serious for once. ]
I've...hurt a great many of you. I'm not asking to be forgiven for that. And I'm not making excuses. It's simply who--what I was. Since I've already paid a nearly fatal price because someone thought I was what I used to be, I realize I can't keep going as if I were.
[ He finally looks directly into the camera. ]
The fact that you can see me right now should be proof enough that I'm not trying to trick you. Steve Rogers, Stephen Hart, and Dillon all know the truth of this. I'm--[ It takes some effort to admit it, old prejudices die hard. ]--human.
In the new year, I resolve to be a different person. Not what I'd been before.
14th Bite // Change you like a remix
Dec. 15th, 2014 11:21 pm[ Closed Spam: Arkin ]
[ Backdated to sometime after his encounter with Dillon. ]
[ He'd retreated to his room. The encounter with Dillon left him not only weakened, it left him human. A deplorable and unfavorable state to be in. He could feel each beat of his heart, hear each drawn breath. His senses were dimmed far beyond even the limitations created by the barge and he moved far too slow. This wasn't like any previous touch of Dillon's power. And at first, he thought all that had changed was his body. He thought the boy had just sought to weaken him. The rage he felt, far more acute than it had ever been before, was merely a result of the indignation. Thanks to Ben's delivery of blood and apples, as he'd previously arranged, he didn't need to leave his room. Even if the blood no longer appealed to him, the apples were very much needed. He could figure this all out and return to what he'd been before.
He didn't contact anyone. Not even his warden. He paced his cabin, frustrated. But soon, he grew exhausted. And this left something of a problem. What served as his bed--the dirt at the back of the cabin--would suffocate him now. He dropped down into the chair that had once been in front of his TV. It had been so very long since he'd felt this exhausted. Down to his very bones. Enough to make his head fuzzy...
He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, still in that chair. But he'd woken with a ragged cry, coated in a cold sweat. He rubbed his hands over his face, the blurred images of the dream--No, the nightmare--still stuck in his mind, dripping with blood. And he felt something he thought he'd never feel again. The icy touch of fear in the pit of his stomach. ]
[ Open Spam: Recent ]
[ The emotional impact had been slow, but far faster than the reverse. Each day it seemed a new emotion resurfaced from the depths of his psyche, as if waking from a long sleep. But he'd yet to experience anything remotely positive. Fear, regret, guilt, paranoia, anger. He'd stuck to his room for the most part, but apples could only sustain him so long and he'd rather not explain to Ben the reason he needed anything other than what he'd originally requested.
It was the middle of the night any time he ventured out of his cabin, when most of the ship was asleep. This was the only time he left, now. For the showers or the dining hall. The latter was his target tonight. He gave Stephen's door a cautious glance as he passed. He'd been forcing himself go that direction every time he left, rather than taking the shorter route to the stairs. To prove the guilt didn't control him. He felt nothing for what he'd done. Stephen brought it all on himself. But each time, the argument felt weaker than the last.
He made his way up the dining hall, lacking the predatory grace he'd once had. But it was also more than that. It would be easy to mistake him for the human version that had been here previously. He looked wrung out and exhausted. Only for this one, the torments he faced were entirely his own. In the dining hall, he intended to snag just what food was out for the night, and head back down to his room. He'd been lucky so far, to not encounter anyone else. But his hearing was far from what it used to be, so he couldn't be sure if no one else was around. ]
[ Backdated to sometime after his encounter with Dillon. ]
[ He'd retreated to his room. The encounter with Dillon left him not only weakened, it left him human. A deplorable and unfavorable state to be in. He could feel each beat of his heart, hear each drawn breath. His senses were dimmed far beyond even the limitations created by the barge and he moved far too slow. This wasn't like any previous touch of Dillon's power. And at first, he thought all that had changed was his body. He thought the boy had just sought to weaken him. The rage he felt, far more acute than it had ever been before, was merely a result of the indignation. Thanks to Ben's delivery of blood and apples, as he'd previously arranged, he didn't need to leave his room. Even if the blood no longer appealed to him, the apples were very much needed. He could figure this all out and return to what he'd been before.
He didn't contact anyone. Not even his warden. He paced his cabin, frustrated. But soon, he grew exhausted. And this left something of a problem. What served as his bed--the dirt at the back of the cabin--would suffocate him now. He dropped down into the chair that had once been in front of his TV. It had been so very long since he'd felt this exhausted. Down to his very bones. Enough to make his head fuzzy...
He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, still in that chair. But he'd woken with a ragged cry, coated in a cold sweat. He rubbed his hands over his face, the blurred images of the dream--No, the nightmare--still stuck in his mind, dripping with blood. And he felt something he thought he'd never feel again. The icy touch of fear in the pit of his stomach. ]
[ Open Spam: Recent ]
[ The emotional impact had been slow, but far faster than the reverse. Each day it seemed a new emotion resurfaced from the depths of his psyche, as if waking from a long sleep. But he'd yet to experience anything remotely positive. Fear, regret, guilt, paranoia, anger. He'd stuck to his room for the most part, but apples could only sustain him so long and he'd rather not explain to Ben the reason he needed anything other than what he'd originally requested.
It was the middle of the night any time he ventured out of his cabin, when most of the ship was asleep. This was the only time he left, now. For the showers or the dining hall. The latter was his target tonight. He gave Stephen's door a cautious glance as he passed. He'd been forcing himself go that direction every time he left, rather than taking the shorter route to the stairs. To prove the guilt didn't control him. He felt nothing for what he'd done. Stephen brought it all on himself. But each time, the argument felt weaker than the last.
He made his way up the dining hall, lacking the predatory grace he'd once had. But it was also more than that. It would be easy to mistake him for the human version that had been here previously. He looked wrung out and exhausted. Only for this one, the torments he faced were entirely his own. In the dining hall, he intended to snag just what food was out for the night, and head back down to his room. He'd been lucky so far, to not encounter anyone else. But his hearing was far from what it used to be, so he couldn't be sure if no one else was around. ]
13th Bite // Denied Shoreleave
Nov. 10th, 2014 12:59 pm[ Spam - Mickey ]
[ In the grand scheme of things, a week hardly meant anything in the vampire's life. A mere inconvenience. However, with the Admiral's announcement, he was rather glad to hear that tell-tale click of the door unlocking itself once his time was expired. He had no way of knowing what lie outside the ship or what sort of port they'd found. But it meant being among strangers. People he could charm, manipulate and control. People he could feed on without werewolves and hunters descending upon him.
But being in Zero meant his senses were at a completely human level. So as he pushed out of his cell, he didn't know there was someone who might be waiting for him. Not in this darkness. ]
[ Spam - Scott McCall ]
[ Jerry was, in a word, pissed. Mickey was supposed to be his to control. It was only dragging himself out of Zero and onto the level Eight that he wasn't actually in pain any longer. But he was still broken up pretty badly, face battered and bloodied. Partially transformed to something monstrous from the trauma. He was furious. The sort of anger that left him more than a little distracted. Being locked away for a week was a minor indignity was one thing. But being kicked around by a human was something else entirely.
Of course the ship was nearly empty. The port had emptied the whole place. He pushed his senses as far as he could, seeing out anyone with a heartbeat. A warm body to feed on. He didn't care what they were. ]
[ Voice - Open ]
[ He's back in Zero. Weaker than ever, and left to allow his wounds to heal at an agonizingly human rate. ]
Could someone do me a favor in your little errands? Pick me up a little something. Preferably young. And blonde.
And if there's a doctor left on board, would you mind bringing a few bandages down to Zero?
[ In the grand scheme of things, a week hardly meant anything in the vampire's life. A mere inconvenience. However, with the Admiral's announcement, he was rather glad to hear that tell-tale click of the door unlocking itself once his time was expired. He had no way of knowing what lie outside the ship or what sort of port they'd found. But it meant being among strangers. People he could charm, manipulate and control. People he could feed on without werewolves and hunters descending upon him.
But being in Zero meant his senses were at a completely human level. So as he pushed out of his cell, he didn't know there was someone who might be waiting for him. Not in this darkness. ]
[ Spam - Scott McCall ]
[ Jerry was, in a word, pissed. Mickey was supposed to be his to control. It was only dragging himself out of Zero and onto the level Eight that he wasn't actually in pain any longer. But he was still broken up pretty badly, face battered and bloodied. Partially transformed to something monstrous from the trauma. He was furious. The sort of anger that left him more than a little distracted. Being locked away for a week was a minor indignity was one thing. But being kicked around by a human was something else entirely.
Of course the ship was nearly empty. The port had emptied the whole place. He pushed his senses as far as he could, seeing out anyone with a heartbeat. A warm body to feed on. He didn't care what they were. ]
[ Voice - Open ]
[ He's back in Zero. Weaker than ever, and left to allow his wounds to heal at an agonizingly human rate. ]
Could someone do me a favor in your little errands? Pick me up a little something. Preferably young. And blonde.
And if there's a doctor left on board, would you mind bringing a few bandages down to Zero?
12th Bite // Gonna Be a Blackout Tonight
Nov. 3rd, 2014 12:27 pm[ 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. ]
( For Lydia )
( For Mickey )
( For Steve )
( For Zane )
[ 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 ]
( Includes notes for Mickey, Stephen, Stiles, Allison, and Dean )
[ 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. ]
( For Lydia )
( For Mickey )
( For Steve )
( For Zane )
[ 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 ]
( Includes notes for Mickey, Stephen, Stiles, Allison, and Dean )
4th Stake // Breakin' the Wall
Oct. 28th, 2014 09:10 am[ Video ]
[ He's still in Mickey's cabin. He's starting to look a little frazzled again, but this time it's self-induced. Between stressing over Kira and his other self, on top of lingering stress with Dean, sleep was becoming a rare commodity once again. And he was pushing himself harder than before. ]
I know this is gonna be a touchy topic for a few of you, but I really gotta know, for absolute certain, who's been a target of any kind for that undead bastard. 'Specially those that he's bitten. But even if he's taken a...uh...a special interest in you. I don't need any details, I just gotta know.
[ He scratched at his forehead, a pencil tucked between his fingers. ]
I keep gettin' bits. And each bit just...makes it more of a nightmare.
[ He jots something down on a pad of paper that's out of frame. He continued to feel personally responsible, and was more determined than ever to fix whatever his other self had done. ]
((OOC: This is Jerry's inter-barge post. From vanilla barge, visible to all.))
[ He's still in Mickey's cabin. He's starting to look a little frazzled again, but this time it's self-induced. Between stressing over Kira and his other self, on top of lingering stress with Dean, sleep was becoming a rare commodity once again. And he was pushing himself harder than before. ]
I know this is gonna be a touchy topic for a few of you, but I really gotta know, for absolute certain, who's been a target of any kind for that undead bastard. 'Specially those that he's bitten. But even if he's taken a...uh...a special interest in you. I don't need any details, I just gotta know.
[ He scratched at his forehead, a pencil tucked between his fingers. ]
I keep gettin' bits. And each bit just...makes it more of a nightmare.
[ He jots something down on a pad of paper that's out of frame. He continued to feel personally responsible, and was more determined than ever to fix whatever his other self had done. ]
((OOC: This is Jerry's inter-barge post. From vanilla barge, visible to all.))
3rd Stake // Lessons and Gifts
Oct. 24th, 2014 09:24 am((Backdated to the evening before the lying event))
[ Video // General ]
Alright. So as I promised, I've got some information for you lot in the event the bloke I took the place of comes back. Far as I can tell, he's just like the vampires I've known. Which means they're a real nasty business.
First thing you gotta know is their strengths. I'm sure you know about strength and speed and all that. But watch the ceilings, they like to creep around up there. Don't ask me how they stay up there, without anything to hold onto. Never got a chance to ask. Their sense are off the charts. Hearing and smell, especially. They're supposed to be able to smell emotions, even. Swallowin' their blood's gonna make you do what they say, too. So watch out for that.
I'm sure you lot've figured out that just one bite's not enough to turn you unless he leaves you close to dyin' from it. But don't let him get his teeth in you to often. There's no hard rule, but two, three bites in a day or two's gonna do you in.
Fire and holy water's your best bet at slowin' him down. Direct sunlight's lethal, but not exactly readily available in a place like this. So the only sure-fire way of stoppin' him's one of these bad boys.
[ He holds up a freshly whittled wooden stake into frame. ]
But you gotta make you get him square in the heart. Cause if you miss, you're a gonner.
I've got some stakes and what not prepared. Wish I could get you lot a supply of holy water, but I don't think the Admiral's up takin' requests. 'Least not from the likes of me. But if you need anything, I've got a bunch in cabin 601. And I'm here to answer any questions you've got.
[ Video // Locked from Kira ]
And I've got...a question for you lot. Supposin' there's a creature that feeds of negative emotions--pain, fear, that stuff. Any way of findin' a replacement food source somewhere on the ship?
[ Spam-ish ]
[ Jerry's been rather busy as of late. He's been working his ass off to prove he's more of a benefit than his counterpart. He's been putting in more than his fair share of cleaning up the barge. Though he'd been crashing with Arkin, more or less, he was still spending a lot of time in Mickey's room. He'd cleaned the place as best as he could. And he'd left the largest stash of stakes with the guy's other weapons.
Ultimately, he was starting to get comfortable. He'd now been on this barge longer than he'd been on the other one. And he was starting to actually settle in. Maybe they wouldn't catch up to the other ship, after all. It was the hope on his mind every single night. ]
[ Video // General ]
Alright. So as I promised, I've got some information for you lot in the event the bloke I took the place of comes back. Far as I can tell, he's just like the vampires I've known. Which means they're a real nasty business.
First thing you gotta know is their strengths. I'm sure you know about strength and speed and all that. But watch the ceilings, they like to creep around up there. Don't ask me how they stay up there, without anything to hold onto. Never got a chance to ask. Their sense are off the charts. Hearing and smell, especially. They're supposed to be able to smell emotions, even. Swallowin' their blood's gonna make you do what they say, too. So watch out for that.
I'm sure you lot've figured out that just one bite's not enough to turn you unless he leaves you close to dyin' from it. But don't let him get his teeth in you to often. There's no hard rule, but two, three bites in a day or two's gonna do you in.
Fire and holy water's your best bet at slowin' him down. Direct sunlight's lethal, but not exactly readily available in a place like this. So the only sure-fire way of stoppin' him's one of these bad boys.
[ He holds up a freshly whittled wooden stake into frame. ]
But you gotta make you get him square in the heart. Cause if you miss, you're a gonner.
I've got some stakes and what not prepared. Wish I could get you lot a supply of holy water, but I don't think the Admiral's up takin' requests. 'Least not from the likes of me. But if you need anything, I've got a bunch in cabin 601. And I'm here to answer any questions you've got.
[ Video // Locked from Kira ]
And I've got...a question for you lot. Supposin' there's a creature that feeds of negative emotions--pain, fear, that stuff. Any way of findin' a replacement food source somewhere on the ship?
[ Spam-ish ]
[ Jerry's been rather busy as of late. He's been working his ass off to prove he's more of a benefit than his counterpart. He's been putting in more than his fair share of cleaning up the barge. Though he'd been crashing with Arkin, more or less, he was still spending a lot of time in Mickey's room. He'd cleaned the place as best as he could. And he'd left the largest stash of stakes with the guy's other weapons.
Ultimately, he was starting to get comfortable. He'd now been on this barge longer than he'd been on the other one. And he was starting to actually settle in. Maybe they wouldn't catch up to the other ship, after all. It was the hope on his mind every single night. ]
2nd Stake // Getting To Know You
Oct. 7th, 2014 08:57 am[ Video ]
[ He seems to be far calmer than he'd been in the arena. Certainly better rested. His face far softer and more open than his counterpart. He's been on this barge now as long as he'd been on the other, and he figures it's time to address everyone. He even smiles. A warm and honest smile. ]
I'm sure most of you know who I am. Or at least, who I was. And that's why I'm comin' to you now. If we're headed back, like the Admiral says, I wanna make sure you've got ways of holdin' off that evil bastard. But I gotta know a bit more of what he's like. To make sure he's...like the ones I dealt with, back in my world.
I also have a small request. My room it's...not pleasant. Mikhail's been kind enough to let me use his, but I can't keep imposing on him. If there's anyone with a bit of floor space or anythin' in their cabin I could use on a night here or there, I'd greatly appreciate it.
[ Spam ]
[ He'd taken really rather well to being a warden. Even if Kira and Dean still tried to torment him. Even if there were things that didn't sit well with him, still. His room was the epitome of his worst nightmare. His other self retained is same taste in clothes. He made sure to wash everything, twice, before wearing it.
Most of his days were spent going about his wardenly duties. Helping to clean the ship. Trying to get Kira to do the same. He was determined to prove he was an asset her. Determined to not go back. Several times a day, he could be found either in the green house or in CES. Always during the daylight hours. He seemed most at peace in these places. ]
[ He seems to be far calmer than he'd been in the arena. Certainly better rested. His face far softer and more open than his counterpart. He's been on this barge now as long as he'd been on the other, and he figures it's time to address everyone. He even smiles. A warm and honest smile. ]
I'm sure most of you know who I am. Or at least, who I was. And that's why I'm comin' to you now. If we're headed back, like the Admiral says, I wanna make sure you've got ways of holdin' off that evil bastard. But I gotta know a bit more of what he's like. To make sure he's...like the ones I dealt with, back in my world.
I also have a small request. My room it's...not pleasant. Mikhail's been kind enough to let me use his, but I can't keep imposing on him. If there's anyone with a bit of floor space or anythin' in their cabin I could use on a night here or there, I'd greatly appreciate it.
[ Spam ]
[ He'd taken really rather well to being a warden. Even if Kira and Dean still tried to torment him. Even if there were things that didn't sit well with him, still. His room was the epitome of his worst nightmare. His other self retained is same taste in clothes. He made sure to wash everything, twice, before wearing it.
Most of his days were spent going about his wardenly duties. Helping to clean the ship. Trying to get Kira to do the same. He was determined to prove he was an asset her. Determined to not go back. Several times a day, he could be found either in the green house or in CES. Always during the daylight hours. He seemed most at peace in these places. ]
1st Stake // Mirror-Jerry
Sep. 25th, 2014 02:34 pm[ Spam ]
[ He should have been more terrified. But even with the darkness at the start, there was a certain relief that came with being out doors. With sufficient cover. Alone. He gathered up his pack without even checking it. Seeing deeper cover. He was used to doing this in populated areas, not so much the wilderness. But it was still old habit. But then dawn came. And even with the threat of death from anyone looking for an excuse, he nearly cried with relief. Sunlight. The likes of which he hadn't seen since his arrival. It's touch had always been a comfort. More so now. Feeling that familiar warmth after the dank, dark interior of the ship.
He didn't look all that different. The same teeshirt and jeans. His hair longer and shaggier than it had been when last the vampire had been seen, but shorter than it was before the fire. Beyond that, hew as fundamentally the same. Any other difference came in how he carried himself--more defensive than predatory. And in the lack of that cold hardness in his face. Now instead, more open and warm. But he still had a tendency to stare a little too hard. Watch a little too closely.
He sought out friends and allies. Fled from any who looked like they might harm him. He'd fight when he had to, but rarely to kill. He only killed the undead. And that was out of necessity. He'd rather flee than risk dying in a fight. ]
[ Video ]
[ The first sign that this wasn't the original Jerry was that he appeared in the video. While his voice was still almost exactly the same, the low, rough tone that sounded like he'd smoked for a dozen or more years, it was far less cold. But the most obvious difference was that he was sporting a muddled Irish accent. That of someone who'd lived for a long time in Ireland, but relocated to the states years ago and had started to lose some of it. ]
Look. I know we're supposed t'be killin' each other here, but whichever side you're on, I'm not gunnin' for you. You've got my word on that. But would someone mind explainin' to me why we're suddenly playin' the Deadliest Game? Out in the middle of...wherever this is?
((Spam is good for most of the event, unless something major happens.))
[ He should have been more terrified. But even with the darkness at the start, there was a certain relief that came with being out doors. With sufficient cover. Alone. He gathered up his pack without even checking it. Seeing deeper cover. He was used to doing this in populated areas, not so much the wilderness. But it was still old habit. But then dawn came. And even with the threat of death from anyone looking for an excuse, he nearly cried with relief. Sunlight. The likes of which he hadn't seen since his arrival. It's touch had always been a comfort. More so now. Feeling that familiar warmth after the dank, dark interior of the ship.
He didn't look all that different. The same teeshirt and jeans. His hair longer and shaggier than it had been when last the vampire had been seen, but shorter than it was before the fire. Beyond that, hew as fundamentally the same. Any other difference came in how he carried himself--more defensive than predatory. And in the lack of that cold hardness in his face. Now instead, more open and warm. But he still had a tendency to stare a little too hard. Watch a little too closely.
He sought out friends and allies. Fled from any who looked like they might harm him. He'd fight when he had to, but rarely to kill. He only killed the undead. And that was out of necessity. He'd rather flee than risk dying in a fight. ]
[ Video ]
[ The first sign that this wasn't the original Jerry was that he appeared in the video. While his voice was still almost exactly the same, the low, rough tone that sounded like he'd smoked for a dozen or more years, it was far less cold. But the most obvious difference was that he was sporting a muddled Irish accent. That of someone who'd lived for a long time in Ireland, but relocated to the states years ago and had started to lose some of it. ]
Look. I know we're supposed t'be killin' each other here, but whichever side you're on, I'm not gunnin' for you. You've got my word on that. But would someone mind explainin' to me why we're suddenly playin' the Deadliest Game? Out in the middle of...wherever this is?
((Spam is good for most of the event, unless something major happens.))
I've been meaning to say. Congratulations.
9th Bite // [Spam]
Sep. 21st, 2014 03:33 pm[ Jerry was, surprisingly, behaving himself. But just like at the party, there was purpose behind it. He couldn't reset by moving on to a new place, with a new name. He needed another way to "reset." And now that he was more or less healed, he was making his rounds again. He wasn't quite as obvious as he'd been at the party.
In the dining hall. In the common rooms--most specifically the one with the pool table. Any general area readily accessible to inmates. Though he avoided the deck for the most part.
He wasn't lurking, exactly, but he wasn't entirely engaged. More watching. Waiting for others to come up to him.
But his plan was very, very simple. Since hearing of Stephen's demotion, he was looking for...opportunities. He couldn't defeat most of the wardens. But could he demoralize them? If he were behaved, but still managed to provoke one, what would come of it? So those were the people he was watching. The wardens more than the inmates. Looking for weaknesses. Things to toy with. Buttons to push. ]
In the dining hall. In the common rooms--most specifically the one with the pool table. Any general area readily accessible to inmates. Though he avoided the deck for the most part.
He wasn't lurking, exactly, but he wasn't entirely engaged. More watching. Waiting for others to come up to him.
But his plan was very, very simple. Since hearing of Stephen's demotion, he was looking for...opportunities. He couldn't defeat most of the wardens. But could he demoralize them? If he were behaved, but still managed to provoke one, what would come of it? So those were the people he was watching. The wardens more than the inmates. Looking for weaknesses. Things to toy with. Buttons to push. ]
[ Monday (evening) ]
[ To say he was having difficulty was an understatement. After everything Dillon did, he felt...unsettled. That added to his newest injuries was far more than he wanted to deal with. It was frustrating to wait for these things to heal. The wound should have been gone in less than a minute after the bar had been pulled out. But like the burns, it lingered. The burns were better, now. Thankfully. It wasn't even that they were healed, just...less. They required far less bandages. But his chest, back and side were a mess. Thick bandages wrapping his chest, and more around his palms. He didn't even bother finding a replacement shirt. He just made his way back to Chris's cabin. It was rare that he needed rest. But wounds like this warranted it. ]
[ Tuesday ]
[ Late that day, having slept through most of it, he headed up from the eight level to the fourth. But on the stairs, as he neared his assigned floor, he smelled blood. Sniffing at the air, he was able to find it. Smears. Hand prints. Following it up the stairs, he finally found the source. He watched, from a distance. Stephen, having his little tantrum at the door to CES. He didn't know the reason behind it, or even the implications of it. But seeing the man so very broken was such an incredible pleasure.
But he heard someone approaching. He was in no shape to deal with any one who might assume he'd been involved in the bloody mess on the floor. So he retreated. Shirtless and bandaged, he made a brief stop by the dining hall. But only long enough to gather up half a day's supply of blood rations and fruit. He didn't even bother going for apples, just whatever he could easily grab. Then it was back to the burned out husk of his room to gather up what clothes he had left. Then on to Chris's cabin, where he intended not to leave until he absolutely had to. ]
[ Wednesday ]
[ He didn't feel it anymore. But he had the memory of it. That feeling Dillon's touch had inspired. It had been fleeting at best. But it was a bright flash in something that had been dark for so very long. It was something true and genuine. A stark contrast to the dry and bitter remnants he had left. It wasn't something one could easily ignore.
Between that and his severely weakened state, he wasn't out nearly as much as he'd been before. And he wasn't being quite as careful of his comings and goings as he had been. But he ventured out less often and returned quickly. Going only a few places. Like the dining hall just long enough to grab something. Or the infirmary to have his bandages changed. He was starting to appreciate David in a weird sort of way. Not with any sort of gratitude, thankfully. But there was something to be said for knowing there was at least one entity on this ship he could go to without having to deal with the mess that was most humans. No prying, no questions of morality. Cold and clinical. If only more people on the ship were like that.
Those he'd been watching will notice a very distinct lack of his presence today. And he'll be much harder to find than usual. Unless someone finds out he's in Chris's room. ]
[ Voice ][ Late Wednesday ]
[ He sounds weary. Without his usual menace. ]
What's it take to get a new cabin, on a new level?
[ Private to Chris ][ Voice ][ Later Wednesday ]
[ It's getting into the hours some might refer to as the "dead of night" and Jerry is relocating, after verifying Stiles' hadn't been toying with him. Chris's room is left relatively in tact. The sheets and blankets stripped completely off the bed (because who wants that gross dog smell?), and there may be a bit of blood on the mattress. From the vampires wounds or his feeding habits, who knows. But there's plenty of evidence in the trash that he's been bringing his rations there to consume them. ]
Room's all yours, guy.
[ To say he was having difficulty was an understatement. After everything Dillon did, he felt...unsettled. That added to his newest injuries was far more than he wanted to deal with. It was frustrating to wait for these things to heal. The wound should have been gone in less than a minute after the bar had been pulled out. But like the burns, it lingered. The burns were better, now. Thankfully. It wasn't even that they were healed, just...less. They required far less bandages. But his chest, back and side were a mess. Thick bandages wrapping his chest, and more around his palms. He didn't even bother finding a replacement shirt. He just made his way back to Chris's cabin. It was rare that he needed rest. But wounds like this warranted it. ]
[ Tuesday ]
[ Late that day, having slept through most of it, he headed up from the eight level to the fourth. But on the stairs, as he neared his assigned floor, he smelled blood. Sniffing at the air, he was able to find it. Smears. Hand prints. Following it up the stairs, he finally found the source. He watched, from a distance. Stephen, having his little tantrum at the door to CES. He didn't know the reason behind it, or even the implications of it. But seeing the man so very broken was such an incredible pleasure.
But he heard someone approaching. He was in no shape to deal with any one who might assume he'd been involved in the bloody mess on the floor. So he retreated. Shirtless and bandaged, he made a brief stop by the dining hall. But only long enough to gather up half a day's supply of blood rations and fruit. He didn't even bother going for apples, just whatever he could easily grab. Then it was back to the burned out husk of his room to gather up what clothes he had left. Then on to Chris's cabin, where he intended not to leave until he absolutely had to. ]
[ Wednesday ]
[ He didn't feel it anymore. But he had the memory of it. That feeling Dillon's touch had inspired. It had been fleeting at best. But it was a bright flash in something that had been dark for so very long. It was something true and genuine. A stark contrast to the dry and bitter remnants he had left. It wasn't something one could easily ignore.
Between that and his severely weakened state, he wasn't out nearly as much as he'd been before. And he wasn't being quite as careful of his comings and goings as he had been. But he ventured out less often and returned quickly. Going only a few places. Like the dining hall just long enough to grab something. Or the infirmary to have his bandages changed. He was starting to appreciate David in a weird sort of way. Not with any sort of gratitude, thankfully. But there was something to be said for knowing there was at least one entity on this ship he could go to without having to deal with the mess that was most humans. No prying, no questions of morality. Cold and clinical. If only more people on the ship were like that.
Those he'd been watching will notice a very distinct lack of his presence today. And he'll be much harder to find than usual. Unless someone finds out he's in Chris's room. ]
[ Voice ][ Late Wednesday ]
[ He sounds weary. Without his usual menace. ]
What's it take to get a new cabin, on a new level?
[ Private to Chris ][ Voice ][ Later Wednesday ]
[ It's getting into the hours some might refer to as the "dead of night" and Jerry is relocating, after verifying Stiles' hadn't been toying with him. Chris's room is left relatively in tact. The sheets and blankets stripped completely off the bed (because who wants that gross dog smell?), and there may be a bit of blood on the mattress. From the vampires wounds or his feeding habits, who knows. But there's plenty of evidence in the trash that he's been bringing his rations there to consume them. ]
Room's all yours, guy.
[ Spam ] // [ Open ]
[ He could finally leave the infirmary. Whether his "doctor" wanted it or not. He had strength enough to walk. The most severe of the damage had been healed. It would have gone faster if anyone had allowed him to feed properly. But he doubted that overgrown boy scout watching over him would have allowed it. His extremities were still heavily bandaged. As was his neck and chest. His face was more or less healed, faint scaring that would fade with time. Frustratingly, though, his hair was a bit slower than the rest of him. His eyebrows were more or less grown back, but the rest of his head was slow to catch up. Leaving him with only the roughest cover of hair.
He was surprised to find his cabin in at least semi-working order. That was perhaps more unexpected than having been dragged out of the fire. And he, thankfully, found he still had clothes.
Should anyone working on the repairs of his cabin try to come in that day, they would be greeted with a rather nasty surprise. Mostly due to who the work crew was. He had no intent of playing nice with the perpetrators of this. Specifically Dean.
Later, he could be found about the ship. He's not moving nearly as smooth as he used to. And he's keeping to the shadows more than usual. And for the first time since his arrival, he can be found in the dining hall actually consuming his blood rations. Don't expect him to be in the best of moods. ]
[ Spam ] // [ Stiles (and a bit for Lydia) ]
[ He was starting to feel like himself again. And that meant resuming what he'd been doing before his little accident. Keeping an eye on those infuriating teenagers. Little did he know how much he might resemble something from their past, as he allowed them only the smallest glimpses of him. With his burned and bandaged hands and arms. Lydia would see little more than shadows. But with Stiles, he allowed himself to be seen. Watching.
That evening, though, he stopped watching. He found Stiles in the dining hall. He pulled out a chair opposite the kid and sat down. Calmly eating an apple. Staring hard. ]
((SEVERE CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THREADS. Specifically with Stephen: biting, blood, massive dubcon behavior))
[ He could finally leave the infirmary. Whether his "doctor" wanted it or not. He had strength enough to walk. The most severe of the damage had been healed. It would have gone faster if anyone had allowed him to feed properly. But he doubted that overgrown boy scout watching over him would have allowed it. His extremities were still heavily bandaged. As was his neck and chest. His face was more or less healed, faint scaring that would fade with time. Frustratingly, though, his hair was a bit slower than the rest of him. His eyebrows were more or less grown back, but the rest of his head was slow to catch up. Leaving him with only the roughest cover of hair.
He was surprised to find his cabin in at least semi-working order. That was perhaps more unexpected than having been dragged out of the fire. And he, thankfully, found he still had clothes.
Should anyone working on the repairs of his cabin try to come in that day, they would be greeted with a rather nasty surprise. Mostly due to who the work crew was. He had no intent of playing nice with the perpetrators of this. Specifically Dean.
Later, he could be found about the ship. He's not moving nearly as smooth as he used to. And he's keeping to the shadows more than usual. And for the first time since his arrival, he can be found in the dining hall actually consuming his blood rations. Don't expect him to be in the best of moods. ]
[ Spam ] // [ Stiles (and a bit for Lydia) ]
[ He was starting to feel like himself again. And that meant resuming what he'd been doing before his little accident. Keeping an eye on those infuriating teenagers. Little did he know how much he might resemble something from their past, as he allowed them only the smallest glimpses of him. With his burned and bandaged hands and arms. Lydia would see little more than shadows. But with Stiles, he allowed himself to be seen. Watching.
That evening, though, he stopped watching. He found Stiles in the dining hall. He pulled out a chair opposite the kid and sat down. Calmly eating an apple. Staring hard. ]
((SEVERE CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THREADS. Specifically with Stephen: biting, blood, massive dubcon behavior))