ArchivedLogs:Rabid

Rabid
Dramatis Personae Anette, Dusk, Isak, Rasputin
In Absentia	2014-04-18 '
Location <NYC> BoM Safehouse - Lower East Side
Tucked away off a little-used side street in the Lower East Side, sandwiched between a youth drop-in center and a taqueria, this narrow three-story townhouse has very little to catch the eye. Boarded-up windows, a door peeling its paint, shabby grubby brickface; from the outside it does not look like much. Inside someone has gone to great lengths to renovate the building into something more habitable. It isn't glamorous but it is comfortable, old furniture dragged in, the place generally swept clean. The first floor holds a large living room, a smaller dining room, a spacious kitchen, a half-bathroom. There are three bedrooms and a full bathroom on the second floor; the attic is just a large empty space crammed full of boxes with a window out to the large flat roof. The basement, much like the attic, consists of a lot of empty space. A bare concrete floor, no windows, occasional poles running up to the ceiling. A tiny half-bathroom down here, too. Not a whole lot else. Dusk's attic is a dark place. There's light that comes in through a few windows, a bare lightbulb up in the ceiling -- though few people ever turn it /on/. Dusk certainly doesn't -- even when he /had/ eyes they were night-adapted, and now -- well. It's quiet up here, at the moment. Mostly quiet. From the back corner where he'd made his home there's soft breathing, hoarse and a little uneven. Dusk is a shadowy silhouette-figure in the back of the cluttered attic, crouched on the pad of mattresses where he's been sleeping, dressed in dark corduroys and no shirt. In the dim-dark light it's only middling-easy to see the splayed handprint scars that spread across his back in charred blistering burnmarks, welted over /top/ of the mangled-torn ruined gashes that once /were/ his wings, uneven lumps of flesh and bone ripped across his shoulderblades. His eyes are much the same, black-and-red charred ruins that are sunken closed. There have been some additions to the wall, recently. Heavy metal shackles bolted in, attached to heavy metal /chains/. They clink quietly when he shifts position, bound to him at wrist and ankle. They are, quietly, clinking right /now/, from the very faint trembling running through his arms. There's tiny footsteps coming up the attic. They're slow, as they poke in, before a voice, a familliar, cheery young voice comes out. "So, uh, yeah. Sorry for dragging you up here but, Dusk is kind of..rabid right now and I think I'd die without anyone knowing if I came alone. That's why I got you, so that if one of us dies the other could tell the others.". Rasputin's voice is /super cheery/ as ze says this, the fluffy white cat getting to the top of the attic, looking at Dusk from afar. "I..hope he doesn't eat us, though. And if he does, nice working with you!". "And why am I with you guys again?" drawls Isak. He's a step or two behind the cat. The state of the attic and what he can see of Dusk gives him pause. He hangs back by the entryway and purses his lips. Then he simply murmurs, "Shit." The door to the attic has helpful signs to /remind/ people of what waits inside -- some while ago in slightly better times someone tacked up a sheet of paper with the Red Cross logo; as Dusk deteriorated someone added another, slightly over top of it, with a handwritten scrawled: Please do not feed the vampire. Dusk doesn't immediately seem to take notice of the two intruders into his lair, though. He stays crouched where he is, fingers curled against his knees, shoulders hunched inwards. There's a vibration coming from his throat, soundless, likely, to Isak, possibly very faintly heard as a high-pitched oddly modulated thrum to Rasputin's cat-ears; noticeable, perhaps, on account of how much more /prominent/ the sharp angle of his adam's apple is than most people's. His shoulders twitch, sharp and jerking; it comes with a crackling from the burned and oozing skin on his back. And then he settles back into very slow breathing, rasping-rough once more. Rasputin does faintly hear the vibration, but that isn't what is causing hir to step back. Mostly, fear, as ze talks. "Uh..hey Dusk. So, I know you're like, still a rabid monster and stuff, no offense! but, thought you might..want to atleast see someone...okay bad choice of words woops. Hear, hear someone, yeah.". Rasputin /may/ be trying to move behind Isak, slowly moving to his side. "But..uh..yeah, hi..Dusk.". "If I were in his condition, I don't know that I'd want visitors," murmurs Isak under his breath. It's meant for Rasputin's ears, but it's not a particularly big room. He is, however, keeping pretty close to the entrance. A small growl rumbles in Dusk's throat at Rasputin's mention of being a rabid monster -- it, admittedly, doesn't do anything to /counter/ this impression. Neither does his sharp baring of fangs when Rasputin says he'd want to see someone. The growl fades, though, into just a small /whimper/. Dusk's shoulders curl inward, his breath hitching in in a very small catch of almost-sob. Slowly, he sinks downward, from crouch into a sitting position, the tension in his muscles relaxing into just a wilted droop. His face turns towards Rasputin, head dipping in one heavy nod. Anette Nobody told Anette anything. Nobody tells her ANYTHING. Nonetheless, she has noticed Dusk's recent dissappearance and she has picked up on the sounds from the attic, more so than most others here. Curiousity has gotten the better of her and here she is, following behind Rasputin and Isak, keeping quiet. Moments after they enter the attic, she slips into the room to herself. She turns around and, at the sight of Dusk's feral state, she forgets her attempts to be quiet as she suddenly gasps in shock. "Jesus Christ what the hell...?" is all she can manage, staring wide-eyed at the creature Dusk has become. Rasputin just stops at Dusk's almost-sob and whimper. Ze definitely doesn't move forward, but makes hir own whimper, before spotting Anette. "Oh, hey, you're that..new owl chick?". Rasputin looks up to her..most definitely a talking cat, yes. And then ze is looking back at Dusk, before commenting. "We're starving Dusk. I think he asked for it. No clue why, probably has to do with what happened with the fuckers who cut his wings off.". And now, Rasputin takes a /single/ step forward. Still not that far forward, though. "Normal people do some crazy shit when they're starving. Remember that film, 'Alive!'? Fucked up, man." Rasputin might be brave enough to step forward, but Isak's staying put. He hasn't met Dusk before now, and it's probably more likely he'll lose control on a complete stranger than someone he knows. He glances to Anette, nods to her once, and flares his nostrils. Messy. The chains rattle quietly again, links clinking in a slow shift against each other as Dusk settles back, sitting down and scooting a little more towards the wall. His head tips at the sound of Anette's voice, brows lifting over the charred-sunked pits of his burned-out eyes. His shoulders hunch inward again when Rasputin says no clue why; the mangled ruin of his back bares towards the others, a slow hiss expelled through his teeth as his shoulders flex with their jagged-torn scars. He curls his arms around his knees, resting his forehead down against them and hiding his face there. Anette closes the door and inches forward slowly, staring at Dusk in a mix of fascination, repulsion, and concern. "What...what's going on? What's wrong with him?" she asks nervously, her owl-like wings clinging tight to her body (her trust in the safehouse allowing her to comfortably go without one of her many jackets). She pauses just a couple feet ahead of the others, still staring at Dusk though her face changes to a look of pity. "Why is he like this?" "He's a vampire who hasn't had blood in days. I..wouldn't get too close.". YET, Rasputin is moving up near Anette, possibly to protect her or something. "Should probably ask Regan why he's chained up though, I'm not doing it and I don't think Bluegreen has the guts to delve into it with his new boss.". Rasputin sniffs towards Dusk, another small whimper coming from hir. "I know they have a plan. They always do.". Isak rubs a thumb over the side of his lips. "Hey. Feathers," this to Anette. "I don't think going over the man's trauma while standing right in front of him would be the most polite or constructive thing to do." He's wondering the same thing, but. If there's one thing the fashion-forward young man knows, it's decorum and tact. "I also imagine he'd prefer it if we talk to him, not about him. I know I would." There's another slow growl building, low and rumbling in Dusk's throat. He's shifting again, hands leaving his shins with a rattle of chains to press down against the piled-up futon mattresses he sits on. His teeth bare, though it seems more a pained grimace than a threatening snarl, shoulders shaking and his fingers gripping downwards. Still, the growl is thrumming louder, his muscles clenching up as he starts to push himself up, jaw clenched. -- and then check himself sharply, sitting back down with a sudden thump, his breath expelled in a quick release of tension. His head turns towards Isak for that very last comment, the clench of his fingers easing and the growling ceasing. For a moment, his lips twitch up at the corners; it's not really a smile but it's not his previous grimace, either. Anette eases back as Dusk begins growling, making her way behind the others. "Right...sorry. I've just...never seen Dus-you. Never seen you like this before. It's uh...a bit different than your usual look, BatBoy." She glances towards Rasputin as they explain Dusk's situation to some extent. "Well...I might be stating the obvious here, but if he needs blood, shouldn't he get some? I mean, I don't expect a line of volunteers but...a rare steak at least?" Rasputin just shakes hir head. "Can't get him blood, he doesn't want it. I know he heals like crazy with the stuff, probably has to do with that. I think they're trying to get his wings and eyes back.". Now, Rasputin is stepping one paw forward (but still next to Anette), before speaking to Dusk directly. "Dusk. It'll be alright. You're the strongest fucker I know, you'll get through this and come out like a goddamn tank. Or Luke Cage.". "I don't imagine he really wants to hear the 'It'll be all right,' speech, either," murmurs Isak. "But then again, I don't know him. Hi. I'm Isak. I'm new. I'm sorry you got so fucked up. But a lot of the fuckers that hurt you got what they deserved." He glances to the other two. "Have you been in that kind of pain? The kind that's so intense that you would do anything to make it go away? And be starving on top of that? I haven't." He exhales and drawls, "But I'd imagine that people telling you it'll be all right is pretty small fucking comfort." Dusk's chains rattle again as he crawls closer towards the others -- or closer, at least, to the edge of his mattress, reaching -- not for them but for a pitcher of water that stands beside it. He tips it up to his mouth to take a long sip as they talk, setting it back down on the floor as he settles back dwn into a sitting position, one leg folded under him and the other stretched out in front. His head shakes at the suggestion of a rare steak, his shoulders twitch-jerking again. He lifts a manacle-bound hand, raising one finger to point in the direction of Rasputin's voice when he says they're trying to get his wings and eyes back, thumb cocking like the trigger of a gun -- bingo. His tongue swipes across cracked-chapped lips again, and he lifts the pitcher once more, frowning when he tips it back to his lips and finds it empty. Sets it back down with a rattle. His shoulders curl inward again, breath pulled in slow and strained, hands lifting to cup over the hollow sockets where his eyes should be. Eventually he moves one hand. Tentatively. Gives Isak a wave. Points to himself before fingerspelling letters in the air: D-U-S-K. /Hello/. Anette kneels down on the ground, quietly watching Dusk. "Poor baby...and you said the people who did this haven been taken care of?" she asks, glancing towards the others here. "Pity. Wish it had been me that took care of them." She sighs and shakes her head. "I just...wish I could help you Dusk. I wish I knew what to do." Rasputin whimpers again. "Sorry..just always thought stuff like that makes people feel better. I've never been in that kind of pain, though I can imagine it. My own death was painless.". This doesn't seem like a deflection of the topic, just a fact, as Rasputin sits down as well. "Kay roasted them. And, I don't think there's anything we can do. But wait, wait until Regan gets all of this done. She'll come through, I know her.". For all Isak's sympathy for Dusk and his situation, he's keeping a very safe distance. And he might just be preparing a lung full of smoke, should the need arise. He leans against the wall and says to Dusk, "Would it help if we talked about something other than revenge and your condition? Though I admit that the only subject I know enough to converse on easily is fashion. And I do understand that not everyone is interested in that." Dusk nudges the empty water pitcher forward, a few inches. Almost hopefully. His hand is shaking, the chains around his wrist dragging in heavy scrape where they tumble off the mattress and onto the floor. He rocks backwards an inch, another soft growl in his throat at the talk of the people who did this. Soft, first, but then a little bit more harshly. His lunge is very abrupt -- chains rattling hard; the pitcher topples over as they clank against it, stretched taut to their limit as he reaches for Rasputin with a snarl, fingers grasping in sudden-quick clamp for the fluffy cat. As Dusk's fingers grasp down, Rasputin was both expecting and not expecting this, in a way. Dusk's fingers clamp down, but Rasputin is /quickly/ thrashing around with hir body weight..which isn't much, actually, before ze begins to attempt to /claw/ at Dusk's hands. If Rasputin is able to break free of Dusk's grasp safely, ze is quickly running over to where Isak is located, and shouts this out either way. "Anette, move! Get some help!" Anette quickly jumps to her feet as Rasputin is grabbed by Dusk. "Dusk, no, you're better than this. You're stronger than this," she says sternly, her voice accented with a hiss of her own. Her wings stretch out to full length and she quickly approaches Dusk, hoping she can either scare him off or intice him attack her instead of Rasputin. Her eyes flash yellow and she releases a loud screech, prepared to fight Dusk if need be. And Isak rushes forward, prepared to engage if Dusk doesn't let go of Rasputin. Whether he gets within the length of the chain depends on whether the cat gets free or not. "Everyone calm down!" he barks. Dusk doesn't let go, though his grip is, thankfully, nowhere near the immense strength he has when he's properly fed. It's still fairly strong as compared to a /cat/, though he hisses, snarling as claws tear into his skin. He pulls Rasputin towards him, fangs bared sharp, but tosses the cat aside behind himself when Anette approaches, lunging for her instead with another rattle of chains. His arm reaches towards her, grabbing for one wrist to try and pull her near towards his (probably hungry) fangs. He is -- possibly not calming down. Anette flaps her wings once Dusk releases Rasputin, quickly vaulting herself into the air, already just out of reach once Dusk sets his sights on her and tries to grab her. "Dusk...please. Don't do this..." she says to him. "You're so much stronger than this." Her voice has calmed significantly though she is still tense and on edge, still ready to defend herself. As soon as Rasputin is released, ze is /dashing/ to the other side of the room, shouting out. "I'm getting help, stop Dusk!". Rasputin is dashing out of the attic, to..presumably get help! "Dusk. I am going to knock you the hell out if you don't calm yourself, and your lungs will fucking hurt tomorrow. I do not want to cause you any more pain." But Isak is preparing, smoke curling out of his nostrils. He glances sideways to Anette. "If I need to do this, you don't want to be in here when I do." Dusk has stretched himself to the limit of his chains; they pull against the wall as he snaps his teeth at Anette, blindly, gnashing towards the source of her voice and flutter of her wings where she flaps out of her reach. His harsh snarl continues, arms yanking futilely at the heavy chains tethering him against the wall; one of his knees is noticeably weaker than the other, threatening to buckle beneath him where he stands. His face turns towards Isak, teeth bared as he snaps at the other man, too, lunging that direction at the sound of his own name. Anette quickly turns and lands back on the ground, well out of the way of Dusk's reach. "We should probably leave now..." she murmurs to Isak, glancing behind her towards Dusk with a sense of pity as she reaches for the door. "We can check on him tomorrow." "I'm going to do something to calm him. You go, unless you want to experience it, too." And whether Anette leaves or not, Isak starts to exhale a steady stream of smoke directed at Dusk. It smells sweet - like cotton candy. The smoke curls towards his nostrils and mouth, pushing forward to fill his lungs. If he takes a few deep breaths of it, he will feel immediately lightheaded. Euphoria begins after four or five good inhalations. Dusk's snarling-straining continues -- at least for a few breaths. The harsh tugging at his restraints relaxes, after this, though his quiet growling is still there, a low rumbling in his throat. Even this, though, fades after another few breaths, down to just a quieter slump of muscles as he sinks back down in a heavy clatter-clink of chains, breathing rumbling quieter now. Maybe more a /purr/ than a growl, though it's hard to tell where he trembles on the mattresses.