//OOC: Ollie will accidentally misgender Jordan in this post. If this isn't okay, then let me know before you read it and I'll change it. Also, I have a whole plan to bring this around to the plot we discussed; hmu if you want to know! Also... what clan does Jordan belong to?
Little shit! If he hadn't had it beaten into him to never hit a girl, he would've slapped the damn fresh meat and her dumb face. She didn't really think she could hold back, did she? Fresh meat were [i notoriously] bad about that kind of thing, hadn't anyone told her? Wasn't anyone watching them? He looked around, searching for some kind of chaperone, but no--whatever clan these idots were from, they hadn't been bright enough to send someone along with their fresh idiots.
"Sure you would've. What clan are you from?" Oliver demanded. He stepped back a bit at her demand, though, a little uncomfortable at holding a girl in such proximity. He'd never been good with them. They were... weird. Still, he needed to know where these assholes were from before he went any further. If they were from the wrong clan, there was nothing he could do. What he'd done already was already dangerous, what with the way things were. He hated that he cared, but now that he was a vampire, he couldn't be a proud hunter and just ignore the clans any longer. It wasn't an option.
"Hey, are you hungry?" one of the other vampires asked. "Is that why you've got a stick up your ass?"
The third vampire chuckled, a broad smirk across his ugly face. "Yeah, c'mon, join in! [i You] can control yourself, huh, elder vampire sir?" he joined in, tone transparently mocking.
It was tempting. Disgustingly tempting. The hunger was a ravenous void inside him, a black hole that threatened to tear him apart, and every whiff of the woman's blood made it stronger, more powerful. But he was used to it. Like an old ache, he could swallow it down, swallow his hunger until he could almost pretend it filled him up. It was the only thing he could do. His only repentance.
"Shut the fuck up," he snarled, after a gap maybe a second too long.
"Why resist? It feels good, right? And she likes it, so what's wrong with it?" In the space of a blink, the second vampire moved over to the woman. Oliver spun and reached for him, but it was too late. Fangs sunk deep into the woman's neck, red blood flowed--
"Stop!" he snapped, but it was too late. The woman twitched, body shivering; she went from pale to white, convulsed one last time, and went completely, utterly limp.
"Haha, whoops," the second one deadpanned.
Oliver pushed him away and caught the woman before she hit the floor, but it was too late. There was no life left in her. His hand clenched, fingers digging into her flaccid body. No! Why?
The door creaked open, and another vampire stepped out; older, wiser, stronger. "How's it going, kids?" she asked.
The world moved in slow motion. Oliver froze. He couldn't move, couldn't twitch. She looked up, gorgeous black hair flowing over her shoulder, short black dress swirling in the wind--their eyes met. "Shit," she breathed, taking in Oliver and the dead girl.
Oliver's stomach pulled tighter to his spine, if such a thing was possible. No. No, this couldn't be happening.
"He killed her!" the second vampire squealed, running over to the new vampire like he was running to his mother. "Isn't that right, Jordan?" He glanced over his shoulder at the female fresh vampire, eyes big and puppy-like. Oliver gave her a look of pure desperation.
That was all that Jordan could think about in regards to their new life over the past few days or so-- absolutely intoxicating. After spending months and years feeling so tired all the time, unable to explore the world or do-- well, anything interesting really-- the fact they could go out with almost no fear, to take ownership of the night. It was probably the greatest damned feeling they could imagine, and they were going to take advantage of it as much as they can.
Sure, they couldn’t go out into the sunlight right now-- from their understanding of how things had been explained, they were too ‘fresh’ to be able to go out without, ya know, actually burning to death or something similar, which seemed like a very unpleasant way to go. Jordan didn’t miss the sunlight, it hadn’t exactly been their friend in their previous life anyway, preferring the night and the fact that was when the world around them was quieter.
And now, they had [i friends].
Well, not really. Acquaintances would really be a more apt description of what the other two vampires they had been palling around with for the past few days, going out to nightclubs, attending concerts, crashing parties-- learning where the sweet spots were for their kind, and slowly learning more about this world they had a slight awareness of. Hoping that vampires were real but never being fully sure, until they had heard whispers of it, whispers of a solution that had traveled slowly through the hospital ward searching out for those desperate enough for a solution-- or who simply didn’t care anymore-- to take advantage.
While they had to admit that this wasn’t really their type of party-- dancing and drinking in more ways than one-- it was nice to be around others and not have odd looks constantly being thrown in their direction.
Basically, Jordan was just glad that no one else really gave a shit about their past.
But the hunger-- that was something that no one could’ve prepared them for. The intense feeling of an emptiness within their veins that filled their entire being until it practically consumed everything about them was terrifying. The highs were higher than they had ever experienced, but the lows almost made the highs not worth the pain of emptiness that they had felt twice now, intently, shortly followed by the taste of a human’s blood and the reminder of just how different things were now.
So at the end of a long night of dancing and bright lights, when Jordan’s “friends” went outside with a young woman who had been dancing with them to split a snack, they didn’t think twice about the fact they probably didn’t need her-- they had all taken a meal earlier in the night. They were just scared of feeling that hunger again.
Still wired from the music of the club, they stood back and watched as one after another their friends drank from the young woman as she giggled profusely, then Jordan moved to step forward and take their turn when they suddenly felt a harsh yank on their ponytail before being thrown backwards into the wall behind them, finding themselves suddenly pinned by this other vampire who was going off at them for almost killing the woman.
Blinking slightly and glancing over at the young woman who was about to be their snack, they realized just how pale she was. Jordan searched for words, never having had to think on their feet in this sort of a situation. They hated being proved wrong about things, even if they should’ve known better.
[b “Will you take your damn hands off me?”] Jordan said in a surprisingly calm voice that had an underlying hint of annoyance, pushing the other vampire more harshly than they intended to. They weren’t stupid; they knew they were too young to be able to last in a fight with someone they didn’t know the strength of. [b “I would’ve stopped before she died.”] they added, though thoroughly unsure if that were true or not. They hadn’t even been paying enough attention to think about how much blood she had left.
The nights were long. Oliver stared up at the darkness above, looking to where the stars would've been, if the neon lights didn't wash the sky to pure black. A thin moon fought against the bright, artificial lights, pale in the darkness. He hated that he could smell it, now, the scent of blood high in the air. It was a wonderful night for hunting, the air singing with violence and brutality. It made him sick. These nights were long, and living through them made the hole where his soul had been ache.
The nights were long, but the days were longer.
He didn't like to go out at night, but if he didn't, he'd never leave his apartment. And he had to make a living somehow; if he didn't have an apartment, he'd die in the day.
It was the one thing he couldn't do. He'd been turned, but he hadn't done the honorable thing and killed himself, like any turned-hunter should. Every night, he left his room and went out and tended bar until early morning so he could afford to keep his room and stay alive during the day. He hated himself for it, but what could he do? He wasn't brave enough to pull that trigger, to stand out in the sun. So here he was. Walking home from the bar, his apron slung over one shoulder, blonde curls bouncing around his head, trying to make it home before the sun lifted the curtain of dawn.
Loud giggling sounded from around the corner. Oliver started to pass by, but then the smell of blood came sharp in his nose, grabbed him by the chin, and forced him to turn. A small group of people were gathered in a back alley; all of them young, fresh vampires, newer than him by decades at least. Two were watching while a third pressed a pretty young woman against the wall, tilting her neck back. If he was still a human, he wouldn't have been able to tell, but his senses were enhanced to a disgusting level, especially when it came to human blood, especially when he hadn't eaten in a while, so his eyes zeroed in on two tiny wounds on her neck against his will. His stomach churned with disgust and hunger in equal measure at the scent of her fresh blood--but more importantly, he could see how pale she was, could smell how much of her scent lingered around the mouths of the other two vampires, could even hear her floundering heart as it beat urgently against what little blood was left inside her. Any more, and she wouldn't survive. She giggled again, high from blood loss and alcohol and venom and [i ---] knew what else, numbed past the ability to feel pain or how close she was to death.
The fresh vampire leaned in, fangs bared, aiming for that soft, supple neck. Oliver moved. His fingers caught in the vampire's hair and stopped the bite dead, and then he yanked, hard, tossing the vampire back against the opposite wall.
"You could've killed her!" he admonished the young vampire angrily, voice a hiss. He braced his arms on either side of the vampire, pinning them in place, and glared into their eyes. "Are you stupid? We kill, and the damn clans get in trouble! Didn't your sire teach you anything?"
His hadn't, but he'd already known. It was frustrating to the hunters, because it was harder to track them down when they didn't leave a trail of bodies, and harder to justify killing them when they didn't kill. That was why the clan leaders had set the rules, both so that the hunters wouldn't catch on, as well as so the police wouldn't take notice.
Of course, the rules only applied to the grunts. The higher ups probably accounted for half the missing people in the city. It made him sick, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do, not even the hunters. The higher ups were disgustingly powerful; the best anyone could hope for was that they'd kill each other. But these little ones, these little unnecessarily deaths and acts of violence--Oliver could do that much. He might not be able to do much else, but he could at least tell off some idiots and save a girl's life.
"What the fuck," the girl whined. "The hell. Why do you care what we're doing? You pervert."
"Yeah, what the fuck," one of the other vampires taunted.
Oliver glared. They knew what the fuck. They knew this was against the rules. They were just a bunch of dumb fresh meat being assholes.
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