ArchivedLogs:Blood Bros

Blood Bros
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Peter, Sebastian, Shane	2013-07-30 '
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. Tuesday nights at Geekhaüs come with an additional infusion of geekery, the apartment filled with games of the tabletop variety. And food. And company. Some people tend to stop by just for the latter two; Dusk, while he enjoys the company greatly, is /definitely/ here for the games. Game time now has come and gone, various games spread between three separate locations in kitchen and living room and Hive and Flicker's bedroom. Currently, as the crowd all clears out, Dusk is in the bedroom putting away the cards from a game of Netrunner. Typically for him, at home he is dressed in camouflage cargo shorts but no shirt, wings folded in against his back. In the past month he has moved from emaciated to healthy, a wiry sheathing of muscle filling out his frame; at the moment, though, he's slipped back down into corpse-pale. He hums to himself quietly as he straightens up. Imagine Dragons. "Radioactive". It has been stuck in his head all night, probably to Hive's great chagrin. Peter is here, because, let’s face it: he’s a total collectible card-game freak just /waiting/ to happen. He hangs around a little bit /after/ the game’s completed, though; clad in his loose-fitting red hoodie (now with a conspicuous /patch/ stitched on the upper left breast), a loose set of dark blue sweatpants -- and small, cleverly placed slits on his shoulders to provide an exhaust route for the black plates that are propped up on the thing he’s wearing /underneath/. Peter is carefully knocking! On Dusk’s bedroom door, as he puts the card game away. Also, slowly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, steadily bobbing. /He/ has the Darkwing Duck theme stuck in his head; this is /also/ probably to Hive’s great chagrin. Shane is here -- mooooostly because Bastian and Peter are here, let’s face it. He has not taken many ranks in geek yet despite his brother’s constant attempts to prosthelytize. /He/ looks sharp, pinstriped slacks, pale vest, dark short-sleeved dress shirt; in earlier times he’d probably have had a bowtie with this ensemble but instead it is finished with his red fabric collar and its cheerful attached heart. Also, he doesn’t knock, that is for people with MANNERS. Instead he bops Peter lightly on the shoulder with one closed fist, slipping past him to ATTACK Dusk. Or at least reach up and BAT at one of the sharp thumb-claws atop his wing. “If I just cut my wrist open would you drink it? I mean it’d be a /waste/ otherwise, right?” Behind him, Sebastian lingers with the MANNERLY crowd. Summery-cheerful in a blue-and-white sarong (wrapped to knee-length), a strappy white tank top with a gauzy sky-blue short-sleeved shirt over it. “-- Hi um. Hi, can we -- wait you /aren’t/ eating, are you?” His eyes narrow on Dusk with an ominous lurking threat of impending fretting. “What if we just /slipped/ blood into your drinks? SPIKED.” “Hey, g -- woah.” His claw twitches at the batting; one of the lower claws flicks out to thwap Shane right back, flicking up against his thigh. “Um -- I -- ran out of --” For a moment he just looks between the twins with a rather /bemused/ expression. “I mean, you -- /could/ -- Ian actually tried that for a while.” He tucks cards into box, putting the lid back on it. “Don’t -- cut your wrist open, you’ll bleed on Flicker’s floor.” His wing pulls back in to fold against his back once more. Now he looks at Peter, instead. “-- Sup?” “Ohman that’d be kind of creepy,” Peter informs Sebastian, sliiiiiiding in after Shane, but only after a moment -- a faint violet coloration creeping up his jaw. Just a little bit! “I mean, sneaking blood into his drinks what if someone else drank it by /accident/ uh do you -- /actually/ drink blood?” This is the next question out of Peter’s mouth as he pops up behind Shane meekly, watching Dusk’s wingflaps. Then, quite suddenly: “--I heard you, um. Know sign language.” “What, you think the fangs are for decoration?” Shane grins -- broadly and toothily. “Usually people are built at least /kind/ of for a reason.” His teeth clack-clack in a demonstrative chomp. “Oh -- oh, you didn’t know?” Sebastian blushes now, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks. “Sorry, Dusk, I just -- figured everyone -- knew, um.” His head ducks sheepishly, gaze darting to Peter briefly. “If someone drank it by accident they probably -- wouldn’t think it tasted very good? And stop before it made them sick. I -- hope. Though --” Shane bites down on his lip for a moment. “/I’d/ think it was delicious,” Sebastian admits. “But I wouldn’t get sick, either.” Dusk, at least, doesn’t really blush at this question, though his gaze does drop for a brief moment. “I drink blood,” he affirms quietly. “I need to. To live. But I don’t sparkle in the sun or anything.” This very important clarification comes with a quick smile. “Anyway, Ian just used to spike my food when he already knew I was going to be the one eating it.” He shrugs, more with wing than with shoulder. Peter’s last statement raises his eyebrows; the small curl of smile returns, wider. “-- Yeah. I do. Used to speak it a lot more often than I do these days.” “Wait, do you--” Peter’s eyes pop open /wide/ at the mention of Dusk’s fangs; he’s certainly seen them, but he’s never quite put this /together/, it seems. “--like. Do you -- /bite/ people for their blood?” This question is asked somewhat quietly, and maybe with a hint of embarrassment -- like he’s asking Dusk about his bedroom preferences. “--oh, yeah,” Peter soon adds, with a quick glance back to Sebastian -- shifting his attention over to Shane, then to Dusk: “--just, uh. When we’re -- underwater? I can’t communicate with the twins and. One of them mentioned -- it’d be. Really cool to learn and -- used to?” Peter asks, apparently full of /all/ the questions, today. “S’okay,” Dusk dismisses Sebastian’s apology with a shake of his head. “I -- do, yeah. Sometimes. It depends on the person. I’ve actually gotten really good at getting needles into veins too, though. That’s -- cleaner.” The explanation makes his eyes widen, just slightly. “Oh! Underwater -- wow, yeah, I can see how that’d be useful. I didn’t know /you/ -- I mean, they can talk fine, right?” His wing flicks towards the twins in indication. “But I guess it’s different if you’re -- uh, how are you underwater?” He is suddenly suspicious of this, eyes narrowing on Peter curiously. “-- well, there’s not any deaf people in this building right now.” “-- It’s /really hot/ when he bites you, though,” Shane informs Peter, “beats an IV /any/ day.” Sebastian blushes, nose crinkling. “I like the IV, it’s. Neater.” “Anyway we’re already teaching Peter Vietnamese I -- I mean we /could/ teach him our language I guess,” Shane considers this with sudden thoughtfulness. “-- but sign language would be more useful who else is he going to speak --” Sebastian’s brow furrows. “Yeah I guess you can’t really. Use underwater language with too many other people. Plus I’m not sure if --” Shane glances over towards Peter for a moment. “-- No,” Sebastian answers the question Shane hasn’t even finished, “I don’t think he even /has/ the right vocal cords.” “--oh man you /bite/ people for /blood/,” Peter informs Dusk, as if this were something he had just not explained to Peter himself. “Like -- does it hurt? Is it like getting a needle? Oh /man/ you’re like -- an /actual/ vampire bat. That’s kind of cool, it’s...” His words trail off; creeping violet rears its head at Shane’s comment, but he quirks his head at the mention of the /other/ language, and: “--wait. The humming?” Peter asks. “Down there? Is that -- I thought you guys were just, kinda singing. It was nice,” he admits, and now the creeping violet becomes a blooming violet. “--but yeah I’m, pretty okay underwater,” he tells Dusk. “I use a scuba-tank? I’m -- learning.” “Pretty much a vampire bat,” Dusk agrees. “Getting an IV hurts like getting a needle. I -- imagine,” now he /does/ blush, just a hint of colour creeping into his pale cheeks, “that getting bitten hurts a whole lot worse. I’m not sure how cool it is. It’s just -- how I eat.” His wing shrugs. He moves to sit down on the edge of one of the two beds. “Oh! Scuba -- right. Sometimes I forget that, uh.” He rubs at the back of his neck a little sheepishly, glancing towards Sebastian’s gills, “-- that there’s. Other -- human ways to. Do things. Right.” “Hurts like a motherfucker,” Shane agrees, but there’s a teasing edge to his smile as he adds, “-- but some kinds of hurts feel good enough to make up for it.” “It only hurts at first.” Sebastian shrugs a shoulder. “It -- actually does feel kind of /good/ after you get past that. But -- still. Messy.” “It was singing,” Shane clarifies, “but it’s -- talking, too.” “People were totally swimming around underwater /before/ they had gills.” Sebastian looks intensely amused at Dusk’s /scuba/ revelation. “/So/ can you teach us?” Shane butts his forehead up against one of Dusk’s wings. And then, a little uncertainly with a glance between Dusk’s hands and his webbed ones, “-- man, uh, /can/ we even sign?” “--oh yeah I guess that kind of -- I mean, does it have to be /people/ blood?” Peter asks, thoughtfully, before: “I /bet/ you could bite the twins they heal really fast -- uh not that --” Peter starts, before interrupting himself! “I mean, uh...” Shane’s comment about pain causes Peter’s eyebrows to /zoom/ up in alarm, his face /instantly/ burning a dark, vicious indigo -- at which point a hand darts forward to the edge of his collar to give it a tiny, fast tug. Nibbling on his bottom lip, even as he tries not to smile. “--mmn,” Peter says, looking at Shane’s webbed hands thoughtfully, the almost-smile shifting into more of a contemplative frown. “People -- say it feels good, I don’t know if they’re just trying to make me feel better,” Dusk admits. “It doesn’t have to be people blood, no, but people blood is -- best? Other blood will -- keep me alive alright but it feels kind of like /junk/ food. Filling sometimes but it doesn’t --” His head shakes. “The twins heal faster than most people. It takes -- only about a day to get back the right /volume/ of blood after,” Dusk’s mouth pulls up into a crooked smile, “donating, generally but. Anywhere between a month or two to replenish all your red blood cells. So I don’t like to feed from the same people very often or all my friends would be wicked anemic. The twins, though? Can do more like once a week than once a month. But I try to -- be careful, just in case.” The other question just gets an accepting shrug. “Sure. -- Uh, did you mean, like, now? I’m pretty much always free so. If you guys figure out a time that works for you you can have -- lessons.” “No, we say it feels good because it feels fucking good.” Shane waggles a wrist upwards at Dusk in offering. “C’mon. I heal quick.” Peter’s blushing just draws his smile /brighter/, bigger. Peter’s blushing draws /Sebastian/ just a little more blushy, himself. He rubs a hand against the side of his neck for a moment. “-- Now? Oh! Um. -- I think we could have a lesson now. If, um, if that’s /okay/. After this -- I don’t know. When’s good for everyone.” “OhmyGod are you going to bite Shane /now/,” Peter asks, his indigo slipping down to violet, but the flush remaining; he eyes Shane’s wrist for a moment, before adding: “Won’t he like /bleed/ everywhere though I mean -- well I guess you’d just. Bandage him up. Oh -- yeah a lesson now would be -- I mean, I could do whenever, too. How /much/ blood do you take? If you like took just a /little/ from all of your friends wouldn’t they -- replenish a lot faster? Or is that not how red blood cells work?” “I -- actually keep a first aid kit around just for. Biting people.” Dusk says this with a small blush, but a small smile as well. “-- about a pint, more or less. I -- could take a little from a lot of people but that might be hard, too. Just -- logistically speaking. I need to eat every day. I can’t get all my friends together all the time to --” His nose wrinkles. “-- I could fridge it, though.” This is evidently not particularly /appealing/, but he considers it with a slight press of lips. He hooks a wing around Shane when Shane wiggles that arm at him, drawing the teenager in closer. “Maybe /after/ your lesson. It’s hard to learn when you’re all woozy from bloodletting. C’mon --” His other wing gestures to the other two -- the bed he’s sitting on, the other bed, the desk, he is not particular about seating arrangements. “Can start with the basics.” “Start with the important things,” Shane says. “Like ‘I need a steak’.” “Or, ‘my hovercraft is full of eels’,” Sebastian suggests. He moves to take a seat on the opposite bed, sitting down crosslegged. “Or, ‘my veins are full of delicious bloods.’” Shane bumps his shoulder lightly up against Dusk’s. “You know,” Sebastian’s tone is lighter, amused. “The basics.”