Jerry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
400yearsofsurvival) wrote2014-09-17 08:14 am
400yearsofsurvival) wrote2014-09-17 08:14 am
8th Bite // [Spam] // CW for lasting and bloody injuries, mild burns
[ 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]
[Now he turns around fully, so they're facing one another. He has a few inches on the vampire, and he shifts seamlessly into a superior pose that makes the most of this fact.]
You're not afraid of him, are you? Big bad monster such as yourself.
[spam]
No, but you want me to be. Does that often work for you? Openly asking like that. I find the subtler methods tend to be a bit more...effective.
[spam]
You call what you're doing right now subtle? Really?
[spam]
To an extent. At least, in comparison to what you've been doing.
[spam]
[He knows this conversation is a waste of his time. And he's still got Dillon to find. A hurt friend to try and make amends to. He waves Jerry off with one hand, shaking his head before he turns around to keep walking.]
I'm a former corporate shark who got sprayed in the face by a viral agent; now I glow in the dark and I made the poor career move of trying to kill Batman. You, my friend, are just a creep. You chase around after teenagers and anyone hyperbolic enough to be made scared of you. Dress it up all you like with the vampirism and eternal flight or fight, it still boils down to you being nothing more than a delusional little man who has no idea of proper boundaries. And I am through with even tangentially playing your game.
Zane was right - you're nothing that the hunters can't more than handle on their own. I'm out. I'm done.
[spam]
[ He smirked, giving a slight shrug. He did so enjoy finding out just what people thought of him. And just how wrong they were. But there was one little fact that no one on the ship had, just yet. That being his age. How very long he'd survived and thrived. Let Blight keep thinking he was that transparent. ]
You've been talking with Zane?
[spam]
[He tugs at the burned lapels of his jacket, straightening them in a dismissive gesture.]
And now. I have Mr. Cole to find, and you seem to have an appointment with a medic of your own that you're missing. So I'll be on my way.
[spam]
If I see him, I'll remind him that he missed his regular appointment.
[ A guess. But he was starting to get the feeling this wasn't a one-off appointment for the glowing man. ]