Reuben Elvin Clark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
necromagicks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
diversified2013-11-13 02:25 pm
necromagicks) wrote in diversified2013-11-13 02:25 pm
Entry tags:
to all my children in whom Life flows abundant. [ closed ]
WHO Ben Clark (necromagicks), Shawn Laurence (lunchable).
WHAT It's been one week since the death of Rebecca Marshall. Four days since the funeral. Nine days since Reuben Elvin Clark, aged 212, has last fed on the bloodline of his missing sire. He has to do something about that or go mad, starve to death, or both at the same excruciating time. Thus comes Rebecca's grandchild: Shawn. Whether he wants to or not.
WHERE American Midwest. Requisite rural, sleepy neighborhood.
WHEN August 29th, 2014.
It was a very quaint and nice neighborhood, Ben had to admit. Nothing particularly wrong with it, a great place to raise 2.5 kids — although it lacked the white picket fence and excitable dog. It was the sort of place that probably had a neighborhood watch going on right this moment, and Ben could practically feel the eyes on him as he pulled up in his Camaro as inconspicuously as possible. To linger would attract attention; Ben simply took a breath he didn't need and casually wandered up to the door.
Oh, there was even a doorbell. How convenient. With a little push, he could hear the echo of the chime inside the house, tuning his hunger-waning senses toward the residents to try and predict who would answer at nine o'clock on a Friday night. It could be anyone. It could be exactly who he wanted. Considering his own appearance at the moment, maybe that wouldn't be such a great thing. Pale skin was a given, but paled eyes, bags underneath, a tremor running through his frame at the hunger beginning to wear him thin... It wasn't often vampires let themselves get so low.
Who could have predicted such an accident as the one that took Rebecca so suddenly? No one could see the future. Even the vampires that drew out their own insanity by partaking of non-sireblood to absorb magical properties were never reported to hear death's call any sooner than the rest.
It sucked.
But, anyway, there was a doorbell ringing and feet stomping toward the door. Any minute now, Ben would flourish his bouquet out and try to get invited inside. It would be very difficult to explain himself if he had to stand out in the dark the entire night long.
necromagicks), Shawn Laurence (lunchable).WHAT It's been one week since the death of Rebecca Marshall. Four days since the funeral. Nine days since Reuben Elvin Clark, aged 212, has last fed on the bloodline of his missing sire. He has to do something about that or go mad, starve to death, or both at the same excruciating time. Thus comes Rebecca's grandchild: Shawn. Whether he wants to or not.
WHERE American Midwest. Requisite rural, sleepy neighborhood.
WHEN August 29th, 2014.
It was a very quaint and nice neighborhood, Ben had to admit. Nothing particularly wrong with it, a great place to raise 2.5 kids — although it lacked the white picket fence and excitable dog. It was the sort of place that probably had a neighborhood watch going on right this moment, and Ben could practically feel the eyes on him as he pulled up in his Camaro as inconspicuously as possible. To linger would attract attention; Ben simply took a breath he didn't need and casually wandered up to the door.
Oh, there was even a doorbell. How convenient. With a little push, he could hear the echo of the chime inside the house, tuning his hunger-waning senses toward the residents to try and predict who would answer at nine o'clock on a Friday night. It could be anyone. It could be exactly who he wanted. Considering his own appearance at the moment, maybe that wouldn't be such a great thing. Pale skin was a given, but paled eyes, bags underneath, a tremor running through his frame at the hunger beginning to wear him thin... It wasn't often vampires let themselves get so low.
Who could have predicted such an accident as the one that took Rebecca so suddenly? No one could see the future. Even the vampires that drew out their own insanity by partaking of non-sireblood to absorb magical properties were never reported to hear death's call any sooner than the rest.
It sucked.
But, anyway, there was a doorbell ringing and feet stomping toward the door. Any minute now, Ben would flourish his bouquet out and try to get invited inside. It would be very difficult to explain himself if he had to stand out in the dark the entire night long.
no subject
"One of your mother's fantasies, actually," he said, carefully, hoping to convey with his expression that he did not mean to make things worse. "Look, this would honestly be a lot easier on the both of us if I could just come inside, maybe show you—"
Wait. Show him?
"Show you. Oh, I'm an idiot," he concluded. Without any warning, he shifted the flowers to his right hand and placed his left up at the exact threshold of the doorway. Then, he pressed forward. It was like he was trying to push against a pane of superheated glass; he grit his teeth as the skin began to turn red, boil, fry against the forbidden territory of Shawn's home. Waited long enough for Shawn to have really seen it, heard the sound of searing, before he pulled it back and carefully clenched the hand against his chest. That would take a while to heal, especially considering how low he was on resources. His expression closed save for a defiant look in his eyes.
"It's not a cult, Shawn," he said. "It never was. Your mother just ran away from her family's responsibility because she didn't think it was natural. I need to talk to you because you're the only one that can save my life right now."