Blackout Drinking

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Blackout Drinking

Post by Chris Shaffer on Thu Oct 09, 2014 4:25 am

Wednesday, shortly after sunset...

Waking up in the evenings wasn't like waking up in the mornings. Leland hadn't been a vampire long, but it was an aspect of the condition he hadn't quite gotten used to. As much as he tried to go through the motions of slowly getting up, stretching, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, for him waking up after sunset was less like the process of awakening and more like having someone restart your heart with adrenaline.

Which is why it caught him off-guard when he just slowly came to. In the darkness he recognized the shape of the bedroom in his haven. The size of the bed, the quality of the sheets, the work he'd done on the walls to make them seem less like a basement to the people he brought home. Even the stickiness was familiar, though he didn't remember what he'd done to wind up so sticky.

Of course, on the nights where he went to sleep sticky he was usually so wasted he shouldn't have remembered what had happened anyways.

So he didn't think much of it, until the felt the weight at the end of the bed. Was someone sitting there? He didn't hear them breathing, he didn't--

Oh god. What is that smell?

Leland immediately sat up. And even with a vampire's ability to see in all but the pitchest of black, he still reached over to switch on a light, and shrieked.

The pile of bones and gore fell to the floor as he frantically pulled himself off the bed, blood-streaked limbs flailing, fingers clutching at sheets and mattress. He moved on all fours, skittering almost like a scared spider towards his bathroom. He stopped in the doorway and looked back.

Is that three--? No, no. Two. Two bodies. Oh god, I can barely identify -- where did they come from? he desperately thought, weeping terrified bloody tears. He'd made messes, he'd made mistakes, but nothing like-- nothing like what he'd done here.

He didn't trust his legs to carry him and thus dragged himself across the floor and into the shower, rinsing the blood and chunks of meat off of his body. In his panic, it didn't occur to him that the blood was all too fresh and sticky. The daysleep was long enough it should have dried and crusted, but he woke up still smearing the floor.

Something did notice, and chuckled through a throat of smoke. The young Lick could and would clean up the mess, of that the creature was certain. It was more interested in what came next. Would Leland ditch the haven? Would he scrub it down? He'd had a couple of nasty scares, between being roughed up by the werewolves and then intimidated by the Invictus.

Where would he go, in the cold light of evening? Which predator would the prey creature risk?

The Strix, so much older than Leland, drifted out of his haven disguised among the shower steam, knowing it could pick up the experiment later.

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Chris Shaffer
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