8th Bite // [Spam] // CW for lasting and bloody injuries, mild burns

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ 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.

Comments

Voice -- Private

[voluntaryapnea]

I'll make a request with the Admiral.

Voice -- Private

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ He laughs. Cause Stiles? Doing him a favor? ]

You?!

Voice -- Private

[voluntaryapnea]

[Oh Jerry. The favor isn't for you. He was going to do it anyway, for Dean's sake.]

Yep.

Voice -- Private

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ And then he turns rather serious. Cause he's not dealing with your attitude in this. ]

No.

9_6 blurp

[strangehistorian]

Just send in a request to the Admiral! Unless you're paired, then your warden should do that for you.

[voice]

[400yearsofsurvival]

I'm thankfully unpaired.

[voice]

[strangehistorian]

Okay! Just send him a message, then! Your communicator can be filtered directly to him.

[voice]

[400yearsofsurvival]

Can it.

Anything else I'm allowed to...request?

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[Ben is one of the least obtrusive denizens of the Barge, especially considering all the loud, volatile, violent individuals there are for him to hide amongst. He doesn't initiate conversation, doesn't cause problems, doesn't show off - but he is almost always watching in one form or another.

One of his most vigilant posts is from the kitchens. He lets Abigail and Helena do most of the interacting with the people that come to eat, preferring to hang back and watch, to keep an eye for threats as well as to see the two women cope with the situation. He knows how to work as part of a team. He knows how to move quickly to keep threats from becoming danger, and it is extremely important to him to do so in a public space where everyone must come at least once a day.

He's been watching the events unfold with Jerry, though saying nothing. Today, though, when he shows up for his blood rations, it's Ben that calmly holds them out, carefully neutral and blankly polite.]

[ Spam ]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Ben had more or less slipped Jerry's attention until then. But any time he was in the dining hall, his attention was so frequently focused elsewhere. More focused on immediate threats than anything that might be somewhere on the periphery.

When he glanced up to see who was holding it out, there was a shift in his own, formerly bland expression. Shifting to something more cold and fierce. It took a moment to pass. Ben looked so incredibly like Dean. But far too young. Far too...docile. Was it something like Stephen and Zane? It was more scent than anything that made him calm down. He seemed to be something like Kira. Nearly human.

Cautiously, eyes trained on Ben's face, he reached out to take the blood. ]

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[It isn't an unprecedented reaction; in point of fact, Ben has a good guess for what's going on despite his social awkwardness when Jerry goes still and stares at him. He remains passive in the face of the inmate's consideration, shoulders and back military straight, hand extended without moving as he waits. Ben does not fidget or shift, blinks only once, slowly, and relinquishes the rations easily when Jerry finally takes them, also without looking away.

Only once Jerry has taken them completely into his custody and Ben has dropped his hand back down to his side does the X5 speak, his voice crisp and clear, matching his expression. Professional. Impersonal.]

Do you require special access to a nutritional source such as these, sir?

[ Spam ]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ He pulled his hand back, holding it and the blood closer to himself. But it was more of an afterthought. Watching Ben's face. Trying to figure him out. Trying to see what this guy was. Far too still and calm. Even most collected people were hiding something. Fear. Adrenaline. A racing pulse. Instinctually afraid of him or excited for a hunt or pissed off by his existence. But never simply calm.

And the silted, professional language only added to the strangeness. His head tipped slightly when Ben spoke. As if trying to puzzle out the meaning of those words. The simple answer to the question was 'of course.' But that should have been obvious. His own voice was even toned, but rough. With a vaguely menacing edge. ]

Why don't you ask what you really want to know.

[spam - wednesday]

[walkingmeltdown]

[It's fairly early in the day still. But anyone up and about, vampire or otherwise, might be treated to an unusual sight. After all it's been more than a week since Blight was walking the halls, staying holed up in his room save for the necessities. Sort of like what Jerry's doing right now, no?

But there he is, and without any of the synthetic skin on to disguise his glowing metahuman appearance, clad in his familiar heat-scorched suit, striding down the hall briskly like he's on a mission. He heads straight to the infirmary - single-minded enough in whatever his goal is that he takes no notice of anyone who might be standing nearby outside.

Whatever or whoever he's looking for isn't there however. He doesn't even go in all the way, just sticks his head through the door, and then spins around again with a scowl of annoyance written across his distorted features. Impulsively he gives a single utterance:] Damn!

[You up for poking this particular bear, Jerry? Because if so, he's all yours.]

[spam]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Visiting the infirmary had become something of a chore. Irritating, frustrating, but annoyingly necessary. He shouldn't even need the place. His body should be mending itself before he could think about needing bandages. The only thing that made it worthwhile was it provided an opportunity to observe David again. The android had become something of a curiosity for him. But that didn't change the fact that he wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible. He did not appreciate the constant reminder that he was not at his full power.

As he rounded the corner on the approach to the infirmary, he was already stripping off his shirt. Bandages wrapped around his chest, covering the stab wound and the worst of the remaining burns. The exposed portion of his torso was still a mess of half-healed burns.

He halted. Saying nothing. Dark eyes fixed on the glowing man, shirt gripped in both hands. He hadn't had a chance to see Blight in person, yet. It was certainly a unique sight. ]

[spam]

[walkingmeltdown]

[Unique indeed. Blight's still flesh and bone, though at this point he's easily mistaken for otherwise, every piece of his skeleton viewed as a silhouetted outline through his intensely glowing translucent skin. While he can't immediately burn on contact anymore he's still very, very warm - anyone who stands within arm's reach of him will probably feel it. And considering the radiation that courses through every cell of every system of his body, he probably smells wrong. Acrid, synthetic.

If you're into that sort of thing.

Still standing near the threshold to the infirmary as he faced the opposite way Blight spotted the other man hanging there. Not having seen Jerry in person before, since his image couldn't carry across video, he didn't know who this person was. His irritation was up but he could restrain himself from going off purposelessly on a complete stranger.]

If you're looking for the healer, he's not in. The only person in there right now is the robot.

[spam]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ And smell it he did. He wasn't sure which was worse. That or the stench of dogs in Chris's room. All he know is that it stung the inside of his nose.

He moved closer, eyeing the thing that was mean to be a man. Cautious. With a smell like that, he didn't want to get too close. He assumed Blight wouldn't know his face. Though anyone who'd been paying attention to the network for the last week and a half would have been able to piece it together. And even if the burns weren't enough, he knew the moment he spoke, he'd be given away. ]

That's the way I prefer it, guy.

[ He'd much rather avoid Dillon, thank you very much. ]

[Private]

[mistconduct]

[uh excuse you jerry some people like gross dog smell.]

You're welcome, Bitey.

[Private]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Try having a hyper sensitive sense of smell. You won't like it so much, kid. ]

I don't usually do this. But now that I'm not staying there? You might want to re-think names like that, guy.

[Private]

[mistconduct]

Start calling me Chris and I'll start calling you Jerry.

[Private]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Hey now. He calls everyone "guy." It's not personal, guy ]

There are worse things I could call you.

[Wednesday spam]

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison was doing...better after her breakdown in the CES. The constant, blazing fury had tempered some. Now it's more a constant burn, one that reminds her of the way Derek described his condition to her. The guilt, the grief...it's a little more difficult to handle. It's a process, a daily one, and combined with the constant desire to lash out...

She keeps in touch with her pack. She sees Lydia every day. She pours all her energy into basic training, and she tries to spend at least one night a week sleeping in Isaac's cabin, just to be close to him. She's trying to focus less on hunting and more on healing, piecing herself together so she can be better for the pack.

Allison is actually proud of how well she's doing...until the day she leaves her cabin to go and visit her rabbit, and runs into Jerry in the corridor, just leaving the infirmary.

He's bandaged. He's wounded still...and yet she trembles. Not with fear, but with the effort it takes to fight her own desires.

To strike. To maim. To kill.

Frozen before him in the middle of the corridor, her expression is hard as she looks him over, the start of a sneer distorting the line of her mouth. Deep down, there's actually a part of her that almost feels sorry for him, for the human being he'd been once upon a time...before that human being had died at the hands of another vampire. Bandages and wounds, they give him the illusion of humanity, of frailty...not unlike a werewolf using a blind man's cane.

Like Deucalion, however, Allison knows that it's nothing more than an illusion. She will not make the mistake of trusting him, even if pity and self preservation have strengthened her self control some.]

Golly. You don't look so good. [Her tone is cold, but still heavy with sarcasm.]

[Wednesday spam]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Unlike Deucalion, this was not something he was trying to keep rather hidden. And it was far from an illusion. As he stepped out of the infirmary, he was pulling his shirt down. Hiding the bandages. A subtle, involuntary cringe at the movement of it.

Seeing Allison there, though, he hid the pain. She saw an attempt to appear frail. He saw it as showing obvious weakness to an enemy. Because that's what she was. Only surpassed by Dean Winchester on the list of people he had plans for. He stood up straighter as he tugged the bottom of his shirt down. Slowly tucking in the front of it as he watched her.

He stepped toward. Casual and confident. But there was a stiffness to his movements. Masking just how much pain he was really in. He scrutinized her as she spoke. Like he was looking for some sort of weakness in her armor. Some way to mess with her. ]

I've had worse.

[video - private]

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia is angry. After seeing the state Stephen is, after hearing about him hurting Vex and seeing the bite marks on his neck, she is more than angry, she is furious. Because she knows exactly who to blame.]

What? Did you get tired of getting your ass kicked so now you're brainwashing people to do your dirty work for you?

[voice - private]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ She wasn't getting video in return. Sorry, Lydia. It was easy enough to assume what she meant. As he'd already told Steve, he expected something like this. Amused as he was, he put on a tone that was a little more serious. ]

Just because something happens near my cabin doesn't mean I'm involved.

[video - private]

[lydiascreams]

No. The fang marks on someone's neck, however are pretty irrefutable evidence.

[Oh she's keeping her video on regardless, Jerry. Because she will be glaring at your through this whole conversation.]

What did you do to him?