Not quite a mirror | private

Let's Share! has (finally) launched! Our first article is a World of Tanks Guide by Enderclaw!
  • Sunlight filtered in through the crack in the curtains and Callum groaned, pulling his blanket over his head to block out the offending light. The movement made his head yell, the same way it did when he was suffering a migraine, and he groaned again. Being awake was the worst.


    Perhaps he dozed under the blanket for mere minutes, or perhaps hours. It was always hard to judge the passage of time, with nothing but a throbbing head and a chill in his veins to guide him. He scowled, displeased to have drifted back into the pain of consciousness, and tucked his blanket closer around him. Ashley must have turned the heating off, he thought, although he couldn't fathom why. It was freezing. Callum patted his mattress blindly, fumbling for his phone, bringing to his face so he could squint at it. The artificial light wasn't as bad as the sunlight, which was unusual. All lights were equally terrible when he was suffering a migraine.


    Ashley

    do u want sudafed

    r u asleep

    cal wake up

    im not standing around all day like a lemon lol

    leaving now. get it urself


    Sudafed? Callum blinked, processing the idea that Ashley thought he had a cold. He couldn't remember the last time he woke up without a sore head, so he had assumed it was just another migraine. His cousin was smarter than him, so he supposed she must be right. Stretching under the blanket, Callum shifted, reluctant to get up. He fell out of bed more than he got out of it, stumbling across his bedroom to the wardrobe as if he were drunk to rummage through it for a hoodie and a pair of joggers.


    Being under the sunlight burned, in more ways than one. It burned his eyes, of course, as always, but Callum would have sworn his skin was sizzling too, like a sausage in a frying pan. With a jolt, he realised he hadn't eaten breakfast, but pressed on his journey to the chemist regardless. As of late, he wasn't hungry. His stomach gnawed at him, always empty and cold, but eating just made him feel sick. Deciding what to eat was too much hassle, anyway. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice he had gotten dangerously close to another person until they collided and he stumbled, falling the ground. Callum groaned, holding his head as the world spun. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten out of bed.


    marcola i have so much muse for this omggg

    callum is not happy to be awake. or existing,,,,

  • ( oh no, poor boy! i have my snacks & i'm ready to chill for the rest of the day, and then have to spend the entire weekend revising for my next exam ;-; )


    It was rare for Dallen to be out during the day, but something deep in his mind had called him outside today, some innate curiosity. It was the end of summer, if he had to guess from the weather, warm turning to cool with thunderstorms on the horizon. He never really bothered with the date, all of this 'calendar' business just served to remind him how old he was and how fast time flew when you were like him; decades blurred together, and historical events were there, but it wasn't like he had experienced them. He had spent most of the first half of the 20th Century holed up in the Swiss mountains, and only found out about the Great Wars as he traveled through France and saw the destruction. In fact, he had spent most of his life after his 500th birthday hiding out in one place or another, refusing to get involved in human or supernatural politics. Seeing all of these fledglings he didn't know turn into respected vampires just made him realise how old he was, how much he had lost through the ages.


    His moping and introspection had been cut short by someone rather rudely walking right into him, and without any kind of apology even! Turning to berate them for their lack of manners, he stopped with his mouth open, his expression of anger quickly turning to confusion, and then curiosity. He quickly shut his mouth to save himself looking like a fool, and stopped to examine this unknown person who seemed to be like him. Except no sire would leave their fledgling to run about in the daytime, because things like this happened and the fledgling tended to look very out of place among humans before long. The only reason he was out in the accursed sunlight was because he had won a warding amulet in a game of chess a few hundred years ago, and the item was essentially magic that replicated the effects of industrial-strength suncream. Not that it did anything for his eyesight, so sunglasses hid his grey eyes from observers, as well as bright lights. With a sigh, he supposed he would listen to the strange protective instinct that grumbled at him from the back seat of his mind, and so he helped the strange fledgling up and into the nearest shaded alleyway.


    He figured that asking 'are you alright?' would be a foolish and wasted endeavour, so he skipped right to the point with his advice. "You really should stay out of the sunlight, it isn't going to do you any good now." he said, the tone of his voice rather monotonous as if he was almost bored by the events, but tinged with an accent similar to Norwegian or Danish but not quite the same. He knew that whoever this fledgling had as a sire was either absolutely terrible at their job or had abandoned the lad to whatever fate had in store for him. While that riled his protective instinct, the voice of practicality argued back that he couldn't just steal someone's fledgling, and the corner of his mind that stored memory was quietly but firmly reminding him of what happened last time he took on a fledgling. He supposed he could wait for the reply, if the vampire before him asked questions, he would give answers, but if he tried to walk off without a word it was probably best to leave him to his foolishness. Not like he wanted a fledgling trailing around after him like a lost puppy anyway.


    ( I have a surprising amount of muse for this, tbh! I havent' rped Len in a while, so i was thinking it would take time to sort of get back into his shoes, but i'm actually quite pleased with this post. )


  • Callum blinked, mouth hanging open in a decidedly unattractive way. It was nice of the stranger to help him up, he supposed, but when he was dragged into an alleyway his nerves flared. Anxiety twisted his stomach in knots, redirecting the blood controlling it into his limbs as fight or flight reared its ugly head.

    "Uh," Callum gawked foolishly, screaming in the back of his mind, trying to tell himself to get it together and say something.

    Now that the world had tilted back into the correct axis, staying blessedly in place rather than moving like a spinning top, his brain was working again. The first thing Callum noticed was a scent calling to him like siren's song and his stomach rumbled, actually doing its job for once and demanding food. He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth - gross - and tried talking again. "You smell nice," mumbled Callum, eyes growing wide with panic when the words registered.

    His hands connected with his face loudly, covering the blush rising to his cheeks. He couldn't look at the stranger now. He was dying. Here lies Callum Raine, who died flirting with a stranger in an alleyway, he thought. Ashley was never going to forgive him. She was too pale to wear black, or so she claimed. "I - I... I mean, how do you, uh... how'd you know I have migraines?" Callum scrambled for words and they came to him slowly, as if they were enjoying his suffering.


    it's rlly good!! i love Len so much :D he can absolutely steal someone else's fledgling. it's okie Len u have permission-

  • Oh yes, if whoever was this kid's sire decided to come back and claim him, well they were going to get a right talking to by a very grumpy ancient vampire who is sick of cleaning other people's messes up - and then he would promptly rip their throat out, because they've been doing an absolutely terrible job as a vampire and clearly didn't deserve the gift. From what he could sense, this fledgling had been turned and then not had chance to get a drop of elder vampire blood in his system, which probably explained his words and the subsequent embarrassment over them. Len, however, remained unfazed by words that would make most humans rather uncomfortable. It was the whole sharing of blood deal that created vampires and was the foundation of the bond between a vampire and their fledgling, so why had this one gone to all the trouble of turning someone only to run off and abandon him when he most needed someone to show him the ropes?


    Dallen supposed it wasn't worth thinking about, not like he could understand most of his more modern brethren anyway, they seemed to get more bold - though to him boldness was stupidity in their situation - as each generation went by. Another sigh left his lips as he tried to figure out what to tell him. Reluctantly, he reached around his neck and pulled off the amulet, a heavy looking thing, though somewhat plain a thick ring of iron with magical symbols carved into it. "I've been through it, just trust me." he replied, handing the amulet towards the fledgling as he spoke. "This isn't something to talk about in an alley in the middle of town. Put this on and come with me, you need to get inside and then I'll explain... I'll tell you what I know about it." he said, though the words were very insistent for a suggestion. He figured that this other vampire had no reason to trust him, but that desperation and the sort of obedience that came upon fledglings when told what to do by an elder vampire would overrule human instinct on this occasion.


    He was sure he could put up with far more pain from the sunlight than the fledgling could, and thick gloves in his pocket and the hood on his coat pulled up over his face should be able to protect him from the worst of it. He didn't quite know why he was putting himself in pain for this lost young vampire, but he just assumed that his protective instinct had won the debate going on in his mind. His home wasn't far, a rather plain looking townhouse building near the town centre that only really stood out because of the blackout curtains that always seemed to be drawn.


    ( haha yeah, he doesn't care, protective instincts are going into overdrive. also i figured that the whole blood-sharing thing would create a bond between the fledgling and whoever turned them, so a sire isn't so much who turned you, it's more who actually took you in? )

  • Accepting the amulet meant tearing his hands away from his face, a task easier said than done when all he wanted was to burrow into his bedsheets and forget any of this ever happened. Pulling his fringe over his face was a good compromise, allowing Callum to take the amulet from the stranger, staring at it through a curtain of brown hair. He turned it over in his hands, eyebrows furrowed. Was this some sort of courting ritual? Had Callum stumbled into a cult member? An enthusiastic LARPer that preferred not to break character, perhaps? He put the amulet on, gasping as a pleasant, tingling warmth spread through his chest and into the rest of his body. The only place it didn't quite reach was his forefinger, occupied by his mum's ring. It still burned, itching with a fury. Callum twisted it nervously, hissing when his fingertips burned too.


    He really ought to go to bed. Ashley said he was sick, and she was always right. When had Ashley lead him wrong? The party, whispered Callum's brain traitorously. He ignored it. The party was a blur, hazy and impossible to decipher. He had no way of knowing Ashley had lead him astray when he couldn't remember anything but a painful prick in his neck. "Where are we going?" Callum asked, wondering for the first time why he had followed the LARPer without hesitation.

    He wasn't going to lead him to a hotel room, was he? Did the LARPer think they were going to have sex? He swayed on his feet, mind filling with situations, things the LARPer might want from him, each more terrible than the last. Making a decision was too frightening, so Callum continued putting one foot in front of the other, following the LARPer to what he suspected was his funeral.


    It wasn't a hotel room. Oh, God, the LARPer had brought Callum to his house. Significantly worse! Not only was it still possible the LARPer was flirting with him, the thick blackout curtains seemed like something a murderer would own. Callum was dying. Officially, actually dying. He hoped Ashley knew he was leaving her his collection of polymer clay charms.


    makes sense!! :D im having so much funnnn. drama queens are really fun to write lmao

  • ( fun to read as well!! Oh, I also had an idea, the whole idea of 'vampires don't have a reflection' came from the fact that mirrors used to be backed with silver, but now they have aluminium instead, it goes to figure that they would be able to see their reflection again. Only, Len only owns antique stuff pretty much I can't imagine a vampire going to IKEA, so i don't think he's seen his reflection in a hell of a long time, he's gonna jump a mile when he walks in front of a more modern mirror! )


    He seemed hesitant, but that was what humans were taught nowadays, weren't they? Trust no-one, unless you're drunk or high, in that case trust everyone because you have no other choice. It didn't seem right to him, what happened to meeting people who were honest, genuine and generally well-meaning? Len highly doubted that he would ever be put in that category; between his rather stony expression and clipped, blunt way of speaking, he tended to come across as rather intimidating. It wasn't that he was particularly tall or looked particularly strong, it was just his way of being markedly distant from the affairs of other people that lead people to think he didn't care.


    As for the insinuation that Len was flirting with him in some strange way, the elder vampire hadn't flirted with anyone in almost two hundred years and he wasn't about to change that now. Even if he did, he would likely be called 'old-fashioned' or at best classed as a 'hopeless romantic' with his ideas of courting. And why was this fledgling asking so many questions? 'Stupid young vampires and their stupid fledglings...' he thought, though he tried to remind himself that it was not this fledgling's fault that he hadn't received the proper education or initiation into the supernatural world. what he was about to explain may be a shock, so it was best to do so in a location where they couldn't run away, he had found.


    It occurred to him that that sounded rather sinister, but that was irrelevant as he had acted on it and dragged the poor kid back to his house, so he just had to go through with this now. Making his way towards the door, a light hiss left his lips as he removed the glove and unlocked the door, the sunlight burning his skin all the while. Retreating inside from the offending light, he made a gesture that invited the other in. He would completely understand if this behaviour weirded the other vampire out a bit, but if he ran off with Dallen's amulet on, Len would have no choice but to hunt him down to get it back. Then he would have to explain things the hard way, which he wanted to refrain from doing.


    Inside, the house was neat and orderly, with not a speck of dust on any surface, though every single piece of furniture in the place was at least over seventy years old, which would likely strike any modern person as more than a little strange. Despite the blackout curtains, it wasn't dark inside, with many of the rooms being lit with artificial light, though that did little to change the look of the place from being straight out of a museum.

  • This situation was so strange, it had burst out of the strangeness gauge, leaking anxiety everywhere. The LARPer was entirely silent, which had no right being as creepy as it was. It was the house, Callum decided. The ancient decor created quite the atmosphere, and not one he found inviting. He felt as if he had stumbled onto a movie set, as if an angry director was about to shout that he was ruining the dramatic close-up of Generic Victiorian Lady crying as she confessed her undying love to a servant. Feeling rather overwhelmed, Callum sat, staring about blankly, unable to take in so many things at once.


    The furniture was wooden but it wasn't plywood, he realised, and the novelty of real wood furniture was oddly thrilling. This day couldn't possibly get weirder. "Do you, uh, want this back?" He wondered, holding the amulet in his hands without taking it off.

    Having something to hold onto, to twist and fiddle with, soothed him. "It's really cool," admitted Callum, which was true, no matter how bizarre it was to have been incorporated into a LARP plot without so much as a warning. "Uh, have you... been LARPing long?"

    He cringed, screwing his eyes shut. Dying, he reminded himself. This house was a pleasant place to die. Suitably dramatic.


    omgg YESSSSSSSSSS I LOVE THAT THEORY!! callum will take him to ikea,,,,, callum wants dat cheap mordern furniture lmao

  • ( oh that would be hilarious! Len's just cringing the entire time wondering what hardwood tables ever did to fall out of fashion and 'if you get lost in the maze of false rooms, do they turn you into an employee?' )


    There was a smell of something on the other vampire, anxiety? General unease? And it occurred to Len that he had just sort of been begrudgingly stewing in his protective instincts rather silently and now didn't really know how to go about doing what he was here to do. Then this strange modern person spoke, and a few of the last words just sounded bizarrely foreign to his ears. He had been speaking Norse first, but he had since forgotten practically everything but the insults and swear words it had been that long since he spoke it, then French had been the dominant language and he had stumbled through the strange language for a few hundred years, and then came English, that strange melting pot of every language it had come into contact with. He was very familiar with English, but he had never heard that word before, and he instantly decided that there had been some kind of terrible misunderstanding.


    For a moment, a rather confused look fell over his face as he tried to figure out what it might even mean. It didn't sound related to any English word he had come across before but then again he wasn't exactly up to date with the vernacular, now, was he? Not like he had any mortal friends to tell him what the new common phrases were every couple of decades. "Have- Have I-? Oh, never mind." he responded, deciding it was likely best not to ask questions about things he didn't understand, this 'LARPing' activity didn't sound like it could bring with it any good so he decided that it was a foolish line of investigation.


    He supposed that he should probably change the subject, starting with the amulet, and moving onto things related to it. That was logical. "You can keep it, for now. Just, don't run off with it. It's expensive." he replied. 'Expensive' was an understatement, though the only thing he had really had to pay was his pride, because enchanters liked to gloat when particularly old supernatural creatures came asking for aid, and money was no real issue for him. "So how long have you been having this, uh... Illness? The sensitivity to sunlight, not feeling hungry despite not eating for days, constant cold; am I correct?" he asked, taking his gloves and coat off at the door to reveal remarkably normal clothing. Rather towards the formal end as casual clothing went, but it wasn't anything too out of the ordinary. Despite how his home looked, Dallen was rather good at adapting to the times when he was outside, the language just tripped him up sometimes was all.

  • Sinking into the couch, hopefully to never be seen again, Callum grumbled to himself. The one time he was certain about something and he was wrong! No wonder it was impossible to make up his mind when every thought that passed through was stupid! Foolish, worthless, waste of time. He was better off just doing whatever Ashley said, he reflected, staring at the carpet in frustration. It was a nice carpet, perhaps in fashion last century, but definitely not the oldest thing in the house.


    Letting his eyes fall closed, Callum leaned into the couch as if he was going to have a nap, although he was careful not to put his feet up. All this ancient furniture had to be ridiculously expensive; he shouldn't sully it with the mud from his shoes. "S'nice," he murmured, still holding onto the amulet.

    Right now, he was too tired to really care about what it was if it wasn't a LARP prop. It was a pleasant weight around his neck and that was enough for Callum.


    The LARPer-who-wasn't spoke again and Callum jerked, blue eyes snapping open. He was in someone else's home, he reminded himself, tempted to slap himself to see if that perked him up. "How did...?" He trailed off, discarding the sentence.

    It didn't matter how the stranger knew, he supposed, since his funeral was overdue. Here lies Callum Raine, who died wearing a cool necklace, he updated his tombstone. "Since, uh, the party? Yeah. The party." Callum nodded to himself, pleased to have managed to recall anything at all.

    Ashley had dragged him to it, insisting it would be fun. He would get to meet all her friends, and they'd see that he wasn't the lamest cousin in the world, just close to it. It had been awful.


    The music pounded in his head like a jackhammer on pavement, drilling into his skull until his brains felt as if they were leaking out his ears. People were everywhere, jumping and dancing and shouting, screaming their delight with hands in the air, spilling alcohol on the floor. He had taken refuge in one of the bedrooms that wasn't occupied, choosing not to think about what was happening in the ones that were, when the door creaked open.

    "Oh!" A girl gasped, "Sorry! I was just looking for somewhere quiet!"

    Callum wasn't sure what happened next. Perhaps they had sat together, quietly awkward, waiting for the party to end. Perhaps she had left him to wallow in pain alone. He didn't know. All he could really pick out was feeling like he was floating, like he was so full of light he could fly, while his neck stinged, and a panicked, "I'm so sorry! I didn't - don't die!"

    Parties weren't something Callum was fond of.



    sdfghgfdsdfghjhgfd callum says yes bc he thinks it's funny,, dallen wouldnt be a good ikea convert employee would he-

  • ( no, he wouldn't, he'd spend all of his time lamenting how he could be fooled into thinking these plants and candles were real, when actually they were lies made of plastic, of all things! he's very traditional in his taste in decor, bless him. )


    Dallen supposed that if the fledgling didn't quite know what was happening to him, then the whole experience would have been far less traumatic than his own was. That was a blessing, he supposed, but that along with the modern habit of not believing a word anyone says, would make this whole explaining business very difficult. Mortals weren't very superstitious now, vampires and werewolves and ghosts were stories told around campfires, not something to have a healthy amount of fear and respect for, so they had faded away from the human mind as a possibility when strange occurrences, well, occurred.


    He didn't know what happened at modern parties, really. He knew a fledgling once who dragged him to a bar back in the Sixties, and the whole room had smelled like smoke but... Different, suspiciously herbal. He had decided not to go back to a party after that, he found 17th century soirees or 19th century dinner parties to be far more acceptable. These answers were far from helpful in discerning who had done this, as well. "Well, at this party, were you approached by anyone who, I don't know... Maybe they asked you for a favour, or something like that. Do you remember them?" he asked. It would be helpful to figure out who did this, at least to bring them to heel for turning a mortal without anyone's permission if not return the fledgling to them.


    Speaking of the fledgling, he looked rather weak. There might not be time to track down who did this before the poor lad went and died in the strange limbo between mortal and immortal. Len supposed he should know his name, if he was going to attempt to bring him in as his fledgling - which he was going to do only because no one else around here seemed to be willing, he told himself. Seating himself in one of the chairs opposite the couch, he examined the fledgling once again. What could have stood out that made a vampire choose him? Once he figured that out, he might be able to figure out who it was if the young vampire couldn't remember anything, and swiftly bring just punishment onto them like a ton of particularly heavy bricks. "I'm Dallen." He said, eventually, pausing before he continued, as if he was reluctant to say what he was about to. "I have what you have, it's an illness of sorts, and it doesn't have a cure. Not as far as I know anyway, not aside from death. Death's a cure for everything, though, isn't it? I can help you through the first part of it, show you the ropes of coping with it, that sort of thing - but you're going to have to trust me." he said, then awaiting a response. As if the fledgling could back out now, he had locked the front door behind them in a movement faster than the untrained eye could detect.

  • Ugh, just when he was starting to relax, it had to get weird. Of course. Callum blinked slowly, trying his hardest to blow the dust off his memories, with little success. "She was looking for somewhere quiet," he offered, aware that didn't really contain much information.

    He couldn't grasp the importance of this conversation, so it didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now, when all he wanted was curl up in bed and maybe drink... something. The craving was hard to place. "Uh, she thought I was dying? She said sorry a lot, I think." He shrugged, "I'm always dying. Aren't we all?"

    His voice was light, trying to poke fun at the scenario. Perhaps she was drunk. Hungover, maybe. A lightweight that drank too much earlier on in the party, wandered off for a nap, and woke with a hangover. Callum wondered if hangovers felt the way migraines did. Maybe that was why she needed somewhere quiet.


    Dallen was certainly a cheerful bloke. "That's nice," Callum yawned, "M'dying soon anyway. Here lies Callum Raine, who died of embarrassment in a weirdo's house."

    Realising he had spoken aloud, he cringed, waiting for Dallen's reaction. Fury, rage, throwing him out. Demanding the amulet back, even though it felt so comforting hanging from his neck. His pulse raced and he stood, now unable to bear stillness when mere moments before he was exhausted. He needed to move, until it stopped feeling like he was about to burst. Or shed his cocoon. Being a butterfly would be nice. A life expectancy of a week sounded ideal.


    Pacing made his neck twinge and Callum hissed softly, holding the aching muscle with his hand. It felt familiar, in the déjà vu sort of way. He held his hand to his neck until it grew unbearably hot and itchy like his forefinger, then jerked his hand away. There should be blood on his hand, he thought, which made no sense at all. "She bit me." whispered Callum, staring at his hand as if it held the secrets to the universe. "That's why she was sorry."



    "what kind of person has the energy to water plants?? can't kill plastic!" callum,,, that's Not healthy,,,

  • ( yeah, the only room that gets sunlight in Len's house is the room with the plants in, and usually he has the amulet so watering them and seeing them during the day is no problem. Aside from that it's all drawn curtains & artificial light. )


    Being alive for so long had made him rather dismissive of the concept of death, people came and went and it only really hurt if it wasn't you dying. He had gotten rather sick of people around him dying (and other undead looking at him like he was some kind of royalty) and isolated himself. But here he was, committing time and effort to not letting some useless fledgling bite the dust in his territory. Again, he had to remind himself that it wasn't the fledgling's fault that he was foolishly clinging to the idea of a human life. Perhaps that was why he disliked that attitude, he had never gotten that luxury to go back to a 'normal' life even for a few days. "She wouldn't let you die, so she made you like us. Against everyone else's advice." he observed. The first thing a fledgling usually learned? Having to look after a fledgling is hard work and they shouldn't turn anyone until their sire (and a number of their sire's associates) thought they were ready. Clearly this girl hadn't been.


    At least he knew the guy's name now. Callum. An old name, as far as he knew, Scottish if his memory was right. He couldn't for the life -or undeath, perhaps?- of him remember what it meant. He didn't mind the mild insult, honestly, he knew he was far out of touch with the modern world and in truth he had been called worse by passing strangers. His expression did change to one of mild disappointment; why, after helping him, would Len appear like he wanted to either kill him or let him die? He had brought him into his house, and killing him would make a mess on a two hundred year-old Turkish rug. why would he want that?


    Dallen muttered a curse under his breath. The girl was probably barely initiated herself and let her hunger get the better of her, then in a bid to save the poor person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, did what her sire had done to her. He could ask about a description later, either this one was remarkably stupid, or he was going to start putting the pieces together very soon and panic. He had to get some blood to him before then, or he would be dead in a couple of days. "Right, I can give you something for it. Medicine of sorts, though it only stops the symptoms for a while it will make you stronger than you are now." he explained, the tone of his voice signalling that this was what was going to happen, no arguments. It wouldn't be hard to get the lad to drink his blood, so long as he made sure he didn't see that it was blood - presenting it in a glass as some kind of miracle cure, alongside the cravings, he hoped it would be enough to fool the fledgling. "Stay here, and don't break anything." he said as he left the room, his tone indicating that it was more an order than a suggestion.


    Moving into the kitchen, across the hall, and making a point to shut the door behind him in case the fledgling tried to follow, he busied himself with finding a plain glass and a sharp knife. Making a cut on his arm, with a sharp inhale at the sensation of pain, he allowed the blood to fill the glass before liking and binding the wound, pulling his sleeve over it so that it wouldn't be seen. The knife was discarded into the sink, out of the way of prying eyes, and he carried the glass back into the previous room with him. Holding it out to Callum, he spoke an order. "Drink it. Trust me, it will make you feel better." he said, softening his tone a little when he said the second sentence. He never was very good at sounding nice. Hopefully the craving and the smell, as well as the need for some kind of relief from the pain would win out over the fact that the mysterious substance looked very much like blood.

  • It felt as though his head were full of bees. Buzzing about, making his face vibrate, bumping into one another. The bees piled on top of each other, each one insisting they were the queen bee when truly, it was none of them. Callum darted around the room aimlessly, staring at anything and everything that caught the bees attention, trying to burn off his anxiety. He didn't really know what to make of Dallen, beyond that he was weird and had a museum exhibit for a house. Kind, maybe, since he was going to give Callum medicine. Manipulative, maybe, since it could easily be poison and God knows what a weirdo like Dallen would do with his corpse. Somehow, he could envision the man using it as fertilizer for rare, almost extinct plants. That seemed like something a wannabe museum exhibit would do.


    Too late, Callum realised pain was shooting up his thigh, jabbed by a table's corner. He jerked away from it instinctively, jostling the offending table in his hurry to get away from it. The vase atop the other side of the table wobbled, falling into its side and rolling. Around, around, around, and around, then off the edge of the table. "No!"

    Heart in throat, he leapt after it, although he didn't expect anything to good to come from it when he was on the wrong side of the table. He caught it. With time to spare. Callum blinked, turning the vase over in his hands, unsure that it was real. Less than a second ago, he was on the other side of the table... Perhaps he ought to sit down.


    The second Dallen was back, Callum knew. There was that scent again, the one that sang to him, asking him sweetly to dive in and drown. The medicine, he realised, taking the glass absentmindedly. Curious, he sniffed it, and his mouth watered. Wasn't it dangerous for medication to smell so enticing? Didn't that sort of thing kill children? Unless, of course, it wasn't really medication. It was poison, and he was going to die. Dallen wanted him to drink it and while Callum wasn't sure why that mattered, it did. Taking a deep breath, he drank. Hesitation soon turned to mindless greed, swallowing every mouthful of liquid inside the glass, and scraping the edges with his finger. Warmth spread through his body like wild fire, taking Callum by surprise. He sat back, licking his lips, and wondered if Dallen had a cat. He couldn't see it, but it was purring.



    i feel like if Dallen was killing Callum it'd be in the plant room,,, no turkish rug to stain and hey, blood fertilises the plants! :D the bit about staining the rug legit made me cackle tbh. i love Dallen so much-

  • ( i hadn't thought of that, you know! he's trying his best to be sort-of-nice. lying and manipulation aside, i think he's doing okay. )


    That was... Easier than he had thought it was going to be. Obviously this fledgling had been trying to cope with the hunger for longer than he had thought, if he was that eager to drink some unknown substance. His own first taste of elder vampire blood had been rather more violent, as he had managed in a fit of desperation to tear his own sire limb from limb. He didn't like to think about it, but the man had left him to die in the snow after a lost battle, just abandoned him to his own devices, so he sort of deserved what got him in the end. The fledgling seemed content now, more relaxed at least, and something about it tugged at Dallen's emotions. Damn, he hadn't felt those in a while. Sneaky little- Really, what had he expected? The bond was formed now, as weak as it was because he hadn't drank directly, but the fledgling's fate was decided.


    Ugh, he would have to talk to those arrogant pricks on the vampiric council, and there would be paperwork to fill out, and this whole situation was seeming less appealing by the second. What on earth had he gotten himself into? No more peaceful nights reading books on his own, that was for sure. He would have to try his best to instill some lessons into Callum, though what those lessons were exactly his memory was a little foggy on. gingerly taking the glass from the other's hand, and with a slight smile on his features, he decided to remind the other vampire exactly where he was. "Better now?" he said, apparently rather amused by the sight.


    He still didn't know how he was going to say the word 'vampire' without the man before him either a) bursting into laughter or b) trying to run from the madman who thought vampires were real. They would have to have that talk at some point before sunset, when he would allow the fledgling to leave his supervision only if he promised to come back (not that he could leave for very long, the cravings would come back in a couple of days anyway, and that would draw him back here whether he liked it or not).

  • Perhaps Dallen wasn't so bad, Callum mused. He would have to ask Ashley to be certain, of course, but as fair as he could tell he wasn't poisoned. He felt great, actually. Invigorated, for the first time in days. "Funny how not even three jumpers can keep me warm, but that medicine can." He mumbled, still trying to lick every single little drop from the glass.

    His hand didn't fit inside the glass, but it didn't stop him trying. "Better," Callum answered, abruptly realising he never answered Dallen.

    The word came out strange, muffled by the finger in his mouth. A tiny trickle of medicine in the glass teased him, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't get more than a drop at a time.

    Glasses were so inefficient. There had to be a better way to drink. From the tap, maybe. Could you get medicine from taps?


    "Ashley!" He gasped, patting his pockets desperately for his phone.

    It was at home, abandoned, likely blowing up with texts. She wouldn't be worried at first, Callum soothed himself. When he was in pain, he fell asleep, and he was almost always in pain. Still, he drifted in and out of consciousness quickly, checking his text messages whenever the light bordered on bearable. "I, uh, it's been nice hanging with you I guess, but I really need to go!" He explained in a rush, words slamming into each other.



    he's trying his best n he's doing great!

    sdcgdsdf IDEA: Dallen assumes Ashley is Callum's girlfriend, so when he does develop feelings he tries to ignore them bc Callum is 'taken'. at one point he asks Callum how his girlfriend is or something and Callum is just like "....I'm gay-" leaving him shooketh-

  • ( Oh, I'm all for that!! )


    There was a rather sudden change then, from contentedness to worry, about a person from what he could tell. There was a feeling of pity, buried deep down in some ancient recess of his mind, this poor kid didn't know that within a century every mortal he cared for would be gone. Dallen tried no to think about that, or how he was going to approach that, because he knew he had to broach the topic of immortality at some point. "Uh-" he said, but the fledgling was already in the hallway. Oh dear, he was about to find out that the door was locked and he was stuck here until sundown. They usually weren't happy about that, fledglings, they tended not to like people telling them what they can and can't do. Especially not after they figure out how much power they actually have.


    He left Callum to discover that he was very much stuck here on his own, nonchalantly making his way into the kitchen with the glass, and taking the time to rinse that and the knife in a methodical way. He did listen out for a reaction from the hallway, he doubted it would be one of anger, more likely it would be fear and the ever so human instinct of fight or flight would start to kick in. Len still had scraps of his humanity with him, unlike many vampires his age who had long turned feral, goaded on by bloodlust, but ideas of fear had long since faded from his mind. Even when he eventually met his end, he doubted he would feel fear. He had lived a long time (perhaps too long by some people's standards) after all and death was probably the only truly new feeling he could feel.

  • tw: Callum has a panic attack over the locked door



    Left on his own, Callum looked around, unsure if he was expected to stay put or not. As much as he used it, 'uh' wasn't a very descriptive word; more the opposite. Shrugging, he stood, grinning almost hysterically at the lack of dizziness. The world was staying put and it was miracle. Halfway to the door, he froze, recalling that he still had Dallen's expensive amulet hanging from his neck. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled it over his head slowly, reluctantly, and left it on the nearest shelf. He kept walking towards the door, occasionally throwing longing glances behind him.


    Ice was in his veins. It hurt to breathe, to move, to exist. Callum opened his mouth and sucked in what should have been a large lungful of air, except his lungs kept burning. His hand shook, trying again and again to turn the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. He shook, until his limbs felt like jelly. Why wasn't it opening? Starting to feel desperate, Callum hit the door with his hands, dully registering the pain. Perhaps it was minutes he spent, scratching the door like a dog trying to get out, or perhaps it was all eternity. Panting, he sank to his knees, inhaling and exhaling rapid, shallow breaths. He held his face with his hands, wondering why it was sticky.

    Oh.

    He was crying.



    yayyyy!! Callum will be so confused. and possibly start wearing rainbows,,,, he cant have his crush thinking he's straight after all-

  • He was in the middle of drying off the knife when he heard it; rapid breathing, and the feeling of panic got to him from out in the hall. Fear was normal, and decidedly human, panic was more... He didn't quite know how to explain it, more intense? It was different anyways, and it had not been his aim to cause such a feeling to rise up. He had been prepared for fear, that was normal, many had reacted that way, but never panic, not to this degree. Not to mention the feeling in the back of his mind that was shouting at him, berating him for not sticking close to his fledgling. 'Damn it, he isn't even mine-' he began to think, before common sense reminded him just what he had done a few minutes ago.


    He hated being tied to other vampires like this. It was so restrictive, so unpredictable!


    By the time he got to the hallway, the other vampire was sat on the floor crying, a rather pitiful sight in all honesty. Remorse began bothering him from within his skull, and if he could give it a very pointed look with thoughts that said 'i am not apologising', he did. In truth, he didn't quite know how to handle this. Crouching in front of the fledgling, though keeping his distance in case Callum reacted badly, he tried to figure out what people say in these sorts of situations. "It's okay. Look, I'm just trying to protect you, alright? You go out there now, and you'll burn again. You don't want that, and I haven't explained everything I need to." he paused for a moment, not sure if this was working or not. "You can leave at sunset, okay? It hurts less that way." he said, trying to keep his voice low and relatively friendly as he spoke. He would probably react badly to that news, but there wasn't really an alternative, was there? Certain essential lessons needed to be taught very swiftly, prime among them being 'trust your sire'.

  • It was a good thing Dallen chose to keep his distance, else he might have been kicked somewhere unfortunate. Staring at the man crouched over him with wide, fearful eyes, Callum hissed like a frightened cat, his teeth bared. He didn't understand the why, but exposing his teeth just seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Ashley was always telling him to trust his instincts. He wished Ashley was here.


    "Want to go home," Callum whimpered, too stressed to even begin to attempt to explain.

    He didn't need to explain himself to Dallen, did he? Dallen had locked the door, didn't want him to leave even though his cousin was going to be worried sick. It didn't matter if it burned. Sunlight always burned! Callum was the whitest white person he knew. "Hurts," he choked, feeling like maybe he did need to explain himself to Dallen.

    Dallen had given him medicine and made him feel better. Thoughts as muddled as spaghetti, Callum sobbed on the floor, unable to make up his mind. His chest heaved with every breath, lungs feeling like they were going to explode. Mum's ring was digging into the side of his head, heating the skin until it bubbled, blistering.



    Dallen: i dont have feelings
    Callum: *is vulnerable*
    Dallen: i have one (1) feeling


    also,,, CALLUM TAKE THE RING OFF OMG

  • ( oh that's the truth. he going to care about him, but he doesn't have to like it at first. also here's the big question in life; why is watching bob ross paint so chill? the twitch stream has just come on, so i'm sat here mesmerised, watching him paint. his voice sends me to sleep & the paintings are so nice, but i don't know why that happens. )


    Looked like he was resorting to instinct, that was never good, harder to communicate when someone listened to instinct over reason. He leaned back a little at the baring of the teeth, though there weren't fangs, which was good because it meant that he hadn't panicked himself into a feral state. Dallen just didn't understand how he hadn't figured out that there was human sunburn and vampire sunburn - there was a marked difference between the two, though he didn't quite remember getting human sunburned very clearly anymore. "I know, but this is different, you know it is-" he said, about to try to convince him that it wasn't normal sunburn when he noticed the ring. How long had this idiot been wearing silver and not done anything about it? He knew it was probably dangerous to get too close, but the pain from the ring likely wasn't helping the whole situation.


    Reaching up to the surface of the cabinet next to him, he retrieved one of his gloves. If he had to take that ring off him, he wasn't going to subject himself to burns twice in one day. "Look, you need to take that ring off. We can put it in a case and you can keep it in your pocket but it isn't helping you right now." he insisted, before coming to the conclusion that force, even through his voice, wasn't going to work right now. "You have to calm down, just take some deep breaths, okay? I'll explain everything, you don't need to panic." he tried to assure him, though he honestly wasn't sure it was going to work.


    Again, for what was the umpteenth time today, he was wondering what he had managed to drag himself into. If he had just not walked out of that door this morning, none of this would have happened and he could have been back here reading a good book, or outside people watching, or, well, anything but this! It frustrated him that his own feelings had gotten in the way, seeing some abandoned fledgling confused and hurting had hit him right where it hurt - because it reminded him of his own experience.