400yearsofsurvival | 1st Bite // [ Audio ]

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1st Bite // [ Audio ]

[ The voice that comes over the network is one that just SOUNDS like it belongs to someone ruggedly handsome. Gruff but friendly. Almost endearing. ]

I hate to trouble anyone with this but I could...really use some help. I don’t really know much of what’s going on here. One moment, I’m trying to fight off this psycho kid who tried to torch my house and the next I’m...I don’t really know WHERE I am, honestly. It kind of looks like my house, but...not exactly. And I’m...well, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m in a bad way. So when I say I need help, I guess what I really mean to ask is...does anyone know how to treat burns?

[ That should get at least one or two saps lured in for him to feed on. ]

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[ Crouched low in the dark, behind the girls, he watched them. A predator who knew how use the sounds its prey made to mask his own slow and steady movements. He savored their subtle fear and apprehension, palpable to him. No, not of both of them. Of the redhead. The brunette, the hunter, was much calmer. Alert. Protective. But not afraid. But she would be, soon enough. He'd see to that. Soon, the room would be saturated in the intoxicating scent of their fear.

Or so he thought.

He heard Allison's whisper to Lydia, without issue. She was correct in assuming he didn't know the entire truth of it. His assumption was that it was a signal. Whether to someone specific or someone in general, he didn't know. Either way, he had no intent of letting that happen.

With Lydia's whispered "One." he rose to his feet. Using Allison's own footsteps as she cautioned forward to move behind Lydia. And unless the hunter did something, unless either of them noticed, Lydia would found a hand clamped over her mouth. His reflexes slow and dulled compared to what he'd been accustomed to, but certainly faster than the average human. His hand was all burned skin and wicked claws. And at the same time, lips against her ear, making small sounds as if trying to soothe a panicked animal. ]

((ooc: I'm assuming they're both fully in the room, now? Also, you're 100% welcome to disrupt that last bit if need be. Or I can rewrite.))

Edited 2014-08-26 23:49 (UTC)

[Moving further into the room, Allison's skin began to crawl. It was nothing she heard or saw, just something she felt...that instinct, that awareness, that hunter's voice in her mind and in her gut, a whisper in her blood of danger, danger, danger...

She wonders, briefly, if she felt this the night she died.

It's an uncomfortable feeling, to be more than aware but afraid, but she still trusts her instincts and sheaths her dagger. She hangs her tazer from her belt.

She goes deadly still, hand still on the tazer...

Her skin stops crawling...it starts singing with awareness, screaming, howling over her bones and muscle and sinew...

She turns and draws in the same motion, removing her bow from her back and notching an arrow. The speed isn't supernatural, but it's faster than she can ever remember moving, it's so perfect and so fluid she forgets she's scared and she lets the darkness have her, body and soul.

She steps forward, and she feels nothing but cold fury when she sees the thing holding her best friend.

In this moment, she knows she felt this when she died.

She was not afraid. She was not uncertain. She saved Isaac and she saved Lydia.

She will do it again...and this time, she will fix her mistake.]

Let her go, and I promise you won't suffer.

[All she can promise is a death toll with minimal pain.

We Hunt Those Who Hunt Us.

She will kill this man, and she will make this right.

She will live.]

[It's not that him grabbing her catches her by surprise. Oh no, she definitely feels him. Feels something seconds before he moves closer.

She feels death.

The familiar chill up her spine, the shudder, but this time, it is more than an intangible feeling. It's real, very real and very present. It's not something that will happen. It has happened. And it's stronger than anything else she's felt before.

When she felt previous deaths before, both when she came on board the ship and back in Glen Capri, it was loud but it didn't completely affect all her other senses like it is now.

Now she feels overwhelmed. It's the smell of it, the noises that she knows represent skin being teared apart because they are just so loud and clear in her head.

She feels light headed like she's about to enter a fugue state and distantly she knows she needs to scream. She knows but before she can as much as open her mouth to do it, a hand covers it. And the only reason she doesn't faint is because she's fighting it. Fighting for control over her abilities.

It doesn't seem to matter, however. Because death is touching her.

Allison's voice is what gives her strength to find some focus. She has to. She can't let herself be controlled. She can't fail Allison. Not again.

So despite feeling like she has absolutely no control over her own body, Lydia manages to push away from him. Not strong enough to force him to let go. But maybe enough to move aside so her best friend has a clear shot. ]

[ He wasn't too worried about the bow and arrow. He had all the protection he needed, even if the girl wasn't a proper shield. But that wasn't his intent. His head stayed low, practically nuzzling his damaged cheek against her skin. Inhaling, between neck and ear, savoring that wonderful fear that consumed her.

As Lydia tried to move around, his arm settled across the front of her shoulders, holding her snug to him.

His gaze, however, was focused on the girl with the bow. ]

Oh, I'd put that down if I were you. Unless...

[ His head dipped lower, lips grazing Lydia's throat. ]

...you'd rather she suffer.

[Allison doesn't move forward. She steps to the side, slowly circling around the creature holding Lydia. Her pulse is steady, her aim is true...everything in her is cold, liquid death, and the only thing she allows herself to feel when his mouth glides along Lydia's throat is more of the same.]

I'm not a child. I'm not a showoff.

[She levels her bow at his head, keeping her aim there carefully to hide the way her eyes flick around his face and shoulders...eyeballing the arm attached to the hand over Lydia's mouth.]

I'm a soldier...and I have no problem making her a casualty if it means I get to kill you.

[It's not a lie, and it's not a truth she wants Lydia to see. This thing will hurt her, she believes he will make Lydia suffer. He will torture her, and he'll get off on it.

If Allison can spare Lydia that torment with a single shot that will reach her attacker through a leg or an arm, or even a graze she can field dress once he's let her go...she'll do it.

It will haunt her for the rest of her life, but it will keep Lydia safe.

For now, she doesn't plan to have her bluff called. She's feinting at his head, and eyeballing his arm...looking to put an arrow in his bicep.

Looking to make him take his hand off Lydia's mouth.

Looking for an opening to let the banshee scream.]

[Lydia is barely aware of what they are saying. Of what he is saying. All she can remember with the way he's holding her, feeling his cold fingers and lips on her skin, is that night at Oak Creek.

She doesn't care what happens to her. She didn't care what happened that day, either. But Allison is there. She is with her and she is in danger. Again.

As much as she wants to scream, she wants to get Allison out of there before she does it. She just needs her to be safe. And she needs more strength to make the scream count.

So Lydia closes her eyes and inhales as much of a breath as she can, her head lolling back as she tries to speak through his hand.]

Go. Allison. Please go.

[Her voice is quiet, muffled. But she needs her best friend to listen. Because she can't be in danger again.]

[ He smiles at Allison's words. Watching her eyes rather than the tip of the arrow. He shifts, as if getting a better grip on the redhead. But that oh so conveniently gives her a target far more difficult to hit without hurting the girl. Daring her to make good on her word.

The lifted his head slightly. Eyeing Allison. Better people had tried to take him down. In four centuries, only one had succeeded. With far more dramatic tactics than Allison was offering. But now was not the time for monologues and witty banter.

Lips drew back, exposing a pair of wicked fangs. Only a glimpse before he went for Lydia's throat. No preparation, no further warning. He seemed intent on ensuring it hurt. ]

[She isn't fast enough to stop him from striking...but the moment she sees him move, Allison feels herself vanish in a way she hasn't experienced since she'd captured Erica and Boyd.

Adjusting her aim swiftly, her first arrow flies into his forearm, near the elbow. There's every chance it could hit Lydia, but she pulls her shot just enough and prays the bolt doesn't go straight through.

She notches another arrow. This time, she hits the elbow proper.

It should be enough to free Lydia's mouth...but she's not willing to settle for just a scream from Lydia to hurt this man anymore.]

SCOTT! ISAAC! HELP!

[She's as loud as she can manage. She hopes Lydia's scream won't incapacitate them for too long.

And while she waits for Lydia to draw breath, Allison notches another arrow. Now she doesn't care: she's stalking forward and around, burying another in his bicep, then his shoulder.

She'll keep shooting until he lets her best friend go.

Then she'll keep shooting until she runs out of arrows. And when she does, she has the tazer.

And the daggers.

And she will keep going until she kills him, or until someone makes her stop.

Because the moment he bit her best friend, touched her with those deadly fangs...causing him pain became fun.]

[Lydia is still barely aware of what is happening around her, the death still overwhelming her senses, her head still unfocused by the loud ripping, tearing sounds.

But then she feels it. She feels teeth against her neck. On the very same spot they had been all those months ago. In her head, with her eyes closed, she sees that scene clearly for the first time in her life. Until that very moment, she never even remembered what happened out in the Lacrosse field. But now she does.

She remembers the pressure of the teeth against her neck, the claws digging against her side as she tries to pull away, digging her hands on the grass. She remembers her name being yelled. She hears it.

Her eyes snap open and Lydia barely needs to draw a breath as she opens her mouth and screams.

But it's not just any scream.

It's powerful and not frightened, it's strong and sharp and much more like the one her mirror self screams than her normal ones. She feels in control all of the sudden and all of her is going into that scream. All of her fears turned anger and her body shakes with the intensity of it, but she feels focused and she keeps going as she stands up straight, not even aware if death is still touching her or not.

It doesn't matter. It can't affect her anymore. She's immune.]

[ At the first arrow, he only bit harder. Drinking deep. Gripping tighter to compensate for sudden surge of pain. PAIN! He could take bullets. A simple arrow should not hurt so much, and yet he could feel it buried in the muscle of his arm.

He kept his gaze on Allison. Watching her as he fed from her friend. It was going to take more than a single arrow to make him flinch. But Allison didn't stop after just one. It wasn't until the fourth arrow, straight into his shoulder, that his grip started to fail. Rather than fight it, he let go. Tearing away from Lydia. His face paler and more monstrous than it had been before.

He would have latched on to Allison next, his body jolting with each arrow strike. He'd incapacitate her. Keep her alive. Begging. Screaming. Making her pay for each arrow. At least, that was his plan. Before he could fully let go of the redhead, there was a sound. Unlike anything he'd heard in his four hundred years. The audible equivalent of a sledgehammer to his face.

Bristling with arrows, he was driven to his knees. Eyes screwed shut. He would have pressed both hands to his ears if his right arm were of any use. Thick, dark blood leaked out of his ears. He feared the sound would split his skull.

Strained and in a great deal of pain, he managed to open his eyes. Glaring at the hunter with grit teeth. They were going to pay. ]

[Allison lets out a scream of her own, dropping her bow and falling to her knees at the sound that comes out of Lydia's mouth. She'd heard Lydia scream, but never like this before, not with that kind of...raw power. It hurts like hell, even was she clamps her hands over her ears...she could only imagine what it was doing to the boys, to the thing in front of her...

The thing that now had a name: vampire.

On her hands and knees, Allison lifted her head to watch it suffer. The blood leaking out of its ears, the expression on its face...in that moment, she was back in Beacon Hills Preserve, watching her arrows fly into Boyd, one by one with clean, steady precision.

The joy she'd felt then was cold, contained. Clinical.

Right now, she can feel herself laughing, because she can't be certain she's actually hearing it.

She's close now, so she crawls towards the vampire as Lydia's scream finally dies, watching his face with open joy. Rocking back on her heels, she reaches for one of the ring daggers at her back.]

How does it feel to become a banshee's bitch, you bloodsucking asshole?

[ Clawed fingers dug at his scalp as he tried to get that sound out of his head. Even after it stopped, it lingered. Ringing in his ears, drowning out everything else. It wasn't even really a sound any more. It was quite the opposite. The deafening absence of sound.

He snarled with too many teeth, furious. She could see she was speaking, but not even the distant muffle of sound reached him. Right now, pain was all he could process. He couldn't even muster his own inhuman sounds of agony it was too much. The scream in his head and the arrows in his body. He could only muster a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whine. A sound no human throat should be able to create.

He'd destroy them. All of them. Slowly. But he needed to get away, first. He needed to get the arrows out. To heal.

But he can't move. He was barely holding himself upright, hunched over, one hand gripping the side of his head, the other dead at his side. He could only glare up at her with those dark, dead eyes. ]

[When Scott hears the scream - hears Allison scream - the change is instantaneous. Hair sprouts along his jaw, fangs fill his mouth. His ears point and his vision turns red as his eyes do.

He doesn't need to look to Isaac to make sure the other boy is with him: Scott knows he will be. So there's no time wasted as he hurls himself against Jerry's door, slamming it open. He's growling already, ready to howl, ready to put down whatever threat he finds - but Lydia's scream staggers him.

Pressing clawed hands over his ears, he stumbles against the wall, using it to hold himself up. It hurts, it hurts like he remembers it hurting on the other Barge - where her scream was more than a warning, it was a weapon, and he's afraid that he'll find his ears bleeding. The second the sound fades and only the ringing is left in his ears, Scott makes himself move forward, unsteady and unfocused. That's okay. He'll find his balance on the way to Zero.

Baring his teeth, Scott reaches for Jerry, dragging him upright.]

Is she okay?

[He doesn't take his eyes off Jerry, but his question is for Isaac, for Allison - though the 'she' might be different for each of them, and that's okay.]

Edited 2014-09-03 14:49 (UTC)

[Isaac's moving as quickly as Scott is, barrelling into the room barely even a step behind his alpha. His eyes glow yellow and his claws are out, a snarling growl rising from his throat as they burst into the room and--

The concussive force of Lydia's scream hits him hard. His hands fly up to press against his ears, trying to shut the noise out. He wants to close his eyes and curl into a ball, ride it out until it's over, but he keeps them open, pushing through the pain and stumbling forward instead to where Allison's crouched over the thing with a ring dagger in her hand.

Lydia's scream ends and the first thing that washes over him in the buzzing silence of its wake is the scents. He hasn't got the trick of blocking them out yet and he can smell that Lydia isn't angry and that Allison is burning with furious, righteous joy, he can smell blood and pain and cold fury from the thing on the ground, and overwhelmingly, he can smell graveyard dirt and darkness and death, the cold, deep scent that takes him home in his mind like nothing else. It staggers him mentally, dulling his rage, and he reaches for Allison at the same time Scott drags the vampire up, hands on her shoulders to draw her back in a gesture that's both protective and desperate. He has to touch her to remind himself he's not back in his father's cemetery, digging graves in the middle of the night.]

She's fine, she's okay. [And of course, his 'she' is always going to be Allison first. but he's trying to be better, trying to be like Scott, and now he knows Allison's not dead - again - he looks to Lydia, smelling the blood from her neck.] We need to get her to the infirmary.

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1st Bite // [ Audio ]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry | Scott | Isaac]

[Spam - Allison | Lydia | Jerry | Scott | Isaac]