The New Girl In Town [Open]

[Sephora Forrest]

Sephora watched in half amusement; her dread fading away slowly, as the woman at the counter narrowly avoided having her hand bitten off by the cash register. Although she was still displeased that Silas kept on looking at her; as if she was either going to attack him or disappear? No, it seemed more likely that he thought she was going to disappear. Still; the first suggestion was probably much more on par.

“Upstairs, sixth door on the left,” instructed the bar maid, as she dropped the key on to the bench. Silas then picked them up and handed them over. Sephora suspected he was smiling because he was going to make her pay a lot of money for her room; hey, if a person had a small enough conscience to own a strip club, they were probably not beyond conning some poor innocent girl out of some extra cash. In the morning, she was going to have to ask the receptionist exactly how much she should be paying for her room. And have Silas take her to somewhere she could exchange her money to wizarding money. Actually probably not Silas; especially not tomorrow morning. She was most likely going to have to lay low for a while.

“So,” said Sephora as soon as she was sure the barmaid was out of earshot and her back was turned, “Do you want to come up?” She was going to be supremely pissed if he said no this time - since it would be virtually impossible to track him down again. Still, if he wanted his money, he was going to have to meet her sometime…

[Silas Rosier]

“Do you want to come up?” asked Sephora, her voice suddenly unusually lascivious.

Yeah, okay, he couldn’t help it. His brain immediately darted to where it shouldn’t, but fuck, there weren’t many other reasons people invited others up to their hotel rooms. It wasn’t like he hadn’t toyed with the idea somewhere in the back of his mind, but surely she had to guess that he was suspicious as sin of her by now? Or maybe she was just a slow on the uptake. Or planning a trap. Things had become a little more complicated ever since she managed to break his fucking hand.

Oh well. There was one good thing about hotel rooms aside from the obvious: they were secluded. All hail a lack of witnesses. If he wanted to get answers (or she was actually serious and not just trying to lure him up to curse him when his back was turned) it was a good place to hold an interrogation. Silencing charms were wonderful for blocking all sorts of noises.

“Nothing better to do I guess,” Silas replied lightly, and motioned for her to walk with him up the large staircase. “How long are you in town for?”

[Sephora Forrest]

“Nothing better to do I guess,” replied Silas, and Sephora would have been insulted again, were it not for the fact that she had seen his eyes light up. He moved towards the staircase, and she followed, hoping that finally she might get what she wanted; after having her brain running in circles all night.

“How long are you in town for?” continued Silas as they ascended the stairs, and Sephora wondered whether there was more motive to his question other than pure curiosity. She was well aware he was suspicious of her and her ‘condition’, and would have to be wary by letting herself be alone with him - at least while he was still conscious. The wizarding community seemed to have a hell of a lot of nasty spells tucked up those sleeves of their, and she didn’t ever want to be in the way of them - the consiquences could be quite messy, to say the least.

“Well, we’ll just have to see won’t we,” replied Sephora cheekily, casting a sly, sideways glance at him.

They reached the top of the stars and continued along the corridor, Sephora constantly making sure that Silas was in her line of vision. More importantly; she was watching his left hand, in case he made a move for his wand.

Reaching the ‘sixth door on the left’ Sephora reached out and put the key in the lock. It turned easily enough, and she opened the door enough to let her slim form in, giving Silas a smoldering look as she went inside. She quickly surveyed the room; simply but effective. It would do for now; but if she was staying here for any length of time, there was no way that she was going to live here.

Silas as yet to eneter the room, and her suspicions aroused, she darted to the door with a speed that could only be described as superhuman. She couldn't give him the chance to not come into the room firing curses everywhere; it was too risky for her heath, which meant things were going to have to get a lot more physical.

Silas came in, and Sephora's eyes immediately flickered to his left hand, which held his wand in a sort of ready position. Wasting no time, and giving him no time to even blink, she reached out and grabbed it out of his hand, narrowly avoiding the curse that fired out of it's tip. Using force hadn't been much a problem since she had changed, and it certainly made yoinking objects a whole lot easier.

[Silas Rosier]

While Sephora unlocked the door to their room, Silas glanced down the hallway to check how busy the hotel was. The majority of the doors bore a shimmering green ‘Vacant’ carved meticulously into the wood, save for three down the end who had ‘Occupied’ in dark red. Brilliant, the less people lodging in The Three Boomsticks the better. Interruptions were never fun.

The look that Sephora gave Silas as she disappeared through the doorway almost threw him for a second. His first priority should be working out what the fuck she was, but she was making that incredibly difficult when almost everything she did nearly had him wondering if a one-night-stand with a possibly-magical creature was a good idea. Surely that had to be one for the bucket-list.

Ergh. If he could keep his head in the game long enough, getting the information he needed shouldn’t be that difficult. Magic always made everything easier. Vertiaserum was a no go, seeing as he wasn’t exactly in the habit of carrying truth-serum around with him, but she looked like she’d answer whatever he asked with a solidly placed Confundus charm, or Legilimens if it came to that. Imperio shouldn’t be necessary, but, hey, if she was stubborn... It’s only illegal if you get caught, right?

Of course, Silas should have realised yet again that nothing was ever that simple for him. The second he passed across the threshold he caught sight of Sephora too late and her hand was already closing around his wand. Silas’s grip tightened and he spun to face her reflexively with an angry shout as the bottle dropped to the ground. The first curse that came to mind burst from the end of the wand, narrowly missing Sephora’s face and searing giant burn-marks into the opposite wall on impact. He couldn’t hold on, and his wand was wrenched from his hand and flung across the room to roll under the impossibly low bed.

Shit.

Without hesitating, Silas instinctively took off in the direction of his wand, his only thought to get hold of it again as soon as possible before Sephora beat him to it so he could blast her to hell.

[Sephora Forrest]

Sephora wrinkled her nose as his wand touched her skin. There was something on it that was kind of like picking up a mildly electrical object. Not pleasant, to say the least. Not wasting any time, she flung it under the bed to keep it out of the way; just so that Silas couldn’t try any tricky stuff.

Silas pounced at the wand as soon as it had spun out of sight, and Sephora made her move. She slammed the door shut behind her and in one fluid motion leapt towards Silas, to stop him from getting his hands on that twig of his. The force she used was probably far too excessive, but her body (in other words her stomach again) was doing whatever necessary to get some proper food into her as fast as possible. They collided in mid-air, and smashed into the bed, making quite a considerable amount of noise. Her head spun for a moment after that jarring impact and she shook it to try and clear any pain. She really had used far too many weet-bix there.

She looked down to find Silas underneath her; possibly why it was only her head got hurt. Still; enough time wasting. She leant down to have a go at his throat, exposing her fangs, but then he threw up his arm in defense. A mouthful of arm was so not what she was looking for. She spat it out distastefully and grabbed the offending arm before twisting it behind his back roughly. She leant over his neck again, and licked her lips once before biting him. And it wasn’t exactly what you would call a gentle bite either. He certainly would have felt it, and his shout of pain confirmed as much. She was about to properly start feeding, not bothering to wait for her saliva to work its magic when sudden pain erupted in her left eye.

Oh my fucking God that hurt! Sephora hissed and abruptly let go of Silas, opting to instead clutch her stinging, burning throbbing eye socket. The bastard had jabbed her in the eye! She tried to open it, but that induced absolute agony. What the hell had he done to her? He was going to pay if he had permanently blinded her! Completely forgetting Silas; she jumped up and raced to the small bathroom to check the damage. Not trusting Silas not to do a runner, she grabbed the mirror that was hanging on the wall and darted back into the main room to guard the door at the same time. She couldn’t see anything wrong with it; but then again it still felt worse than looking at direct sunlight and she couldn’t actually see anything at all! She threw the dirtiest look possible at him with her single eye; being very displeased. She wasn’t going to make this any faster for him; and she had half a mind to go over there and inflict some pain herself. But that would be petty; and get her into trouble later. She had already broken his hand anyway.

[Silas Rosier]

The door slammed shut behind him, and the next thing Silas was able to register was something colliding into his back before they both went crashing at an angle towards the side of the bed. The brunt of the impact was huge, and Silas landed almost lengthways along the sharp, protruding edge of the bedframe. It struck his chest across him sternum, forcing the air audibly from his lungs, and due to the forward momentum Silas’s jaw then collided with the wood, sending pain cutting through his skull before he finally crashed to the ground.

Ow.

Silas’s eyes opened dazedly to catch sight of the cream-coloured ceiling. He was lying on his back with jabs of pain from his jaw slicing upwards into his forehead, but worse still were his ribs, which were stabbing excruciatingly while his chest felt like it had been slammed by a sharp baseball bat. Holy fucking shit he had forgotten how hard supernatural creatures could attack.

Things weren’t over yet, apparently. There was still a heavy, human sized weight on his thighs which was moving again, leaning forwards, and before he knew it a fanged mouth was bearing down on him. Again. Vamp- Oh fucking hell! Silas threw up an arm for defence while a sense of Deja-Vu flooded through him. This was the second time he’d had to defend himself in this fashion against a vampire, and, again, he felt teeth clamp into his arm. Sephora’s jaw was evidently daintier than that of the older male vampire and all she managed to chew into was a handful of fabric, thank fucking God.

Not that the victory, if you could call it that, was long-lived. Even though the vampiress spat out his forearm, her cold hand closed across Silas’s wrist. His arm was twisted behind his back in a movement that not only forced his torso around to face the bed and fully exposed his throat, but also felt like it was about to dislocate his shoulder.

Before he could try and fight for freedom without causing himself a serious injury, Sephora’s head came down and Silas only had enough time to realise what was happening before sharp teeth sliced into his neck. Immediately he gave a shout that was half surprise, half anger and tried to pull away. He didn’t have much of a survival instinct at the best of times but there was one thing he knew, and that was he did NOT want to find himself on the bottom of the food-chain. He was going to fucking kill her if he got the chance! Silas instinctively brought up his only free hand to do something, anything, and with his palm positioned against Sephora’s cheek, he aggressively drove his thumb into her eye in an attempt to gouge it right out.

The vampire gave a loud hiss of pain and immediately detached herself from attempting to feed. The arm of his that Sephora had been restraining immediately flew to the bitemark on his neck. Silas could feel the puncture wounds and a warm liquid beneath his fingers. He didn’t need to check his hand to know that he was bleeding. Just how much he was bleeding was a fucking good question, and he clamped his hand down over the wound just in case. He attempted to sit up, prepared to do anything necessary to displace her, but Sephora leapt off him and ran to the bathroom, saving him the trouble.

Jesus fucking Christ. Wand. Where the fuck was his wand? Taking the opportunity while she was out of the room, Silas looked under the bed and cursed loudly. His wand had rolled to the other side, but still, he should have enough time to cross around and grab it before she got back. His ribs and chest seared with pain in protest at trying to move, and Silas had barely finished pulling himself up into a standing position when a wave of dizziness suddenly crashed over him. His legs gave out beneath him and he was forced to grab onto the bed to stop himself falling, and his hand slipped off his neck and left a bloody handprint on the sheets. His vision was starting to swim, and Silas had no choice but to allow himself to slump against the bed. Fuck. He didn’t think the sedative would work that fast.

He wasn’t sure how long Sephora had been watching him but it was only now what he caught sight of her staring. He wanted to try and move again but his limbs wouldn’t obey. Breathing hurt from the earlier impact with the bed.

His vision slowly began to darken...

[Sephora Forrest]

She watched passively as Silas tried to struggle to his feet. He probably hadn’t even noticed her come back in. That sedative must be working pretty fast; she had bitten him on the neck after all… The smell of his blood was already beginning to fill the room, and it was becoming increasingly harder to just sit there and wait until he fell and would not remember a thing. He could have gone quietly and no harm would have been done to either of them, but oh no. If he wanted to make it difficult, then he was going to get difficult.

When Silas’s eyelids started to flutter and close, she got to her feet again. Her stomach was already protesting loudly; and that impatience was starting to cloud her thinking. She knew that if she wanted to maintain control over her actions, she was going to have to resist that impatience, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

She crossed the room to where he lay slumped on the floor. She really didn’t feel like sitting on the ground to feed, so she dragged his limp body on to the bed with her. Pulling him into her lap, she ripped his suit around the collar to get the annoying material out of the way.

The wound she had made wasn’t quite deep or big enough to feed out of, but it was close. She just needed to open it a little more, and then she would be good to go. She used her teeth to slash at the wound again. Fresh blood began to trickle out at a steady pace, and at the same time her stomach gave one last impatient lurch. She bent her head over his neck and began to feed off his sweet, sweet blood. Her stomach rejoiced, and he really did taste just as good as he smelled, if not better. There was the faintest hint of bitterness that was out of place, but Sephora chose to ignore it, and instead savouring the best meal she had had in weeks.

* * *

Sometime later, she paused for breath, licking her lips to remove any lingering residue. There was a part of her brain; that was telling her that she needed to stop now if she didn’t want to kill him. The rest of her though didn’t see the problem. Her brain continued to argue that if she didn’t stop, she’d never get any more of this again. So she released the healing agent that caused people’s bite wounds to heal up, and licked up any last morsels.

She shoved Silas’s body off her and out of the way and stretched in an almost catlike way and yawned loudly. Tentatively, she tested her sore eye. Well, her vision was blurry, and it was uncomfortable, but at least she wasn’t blind. Actually her vision was sort of blurry in her other eye; sort of warped in a strange way. Probably just a reaction to having blood for the first time in ages. There was a strange fuzziness about her head too, actually, and she was beginning to think that maybe she had drunk too much. Oh well. She crawled over to the edge of the bed and hauled Silas up so she could put him somewhere… On the couch perhaps? But as she stood up, her vision swam, and a sense of dizziness swept over her.

Whoa. That blood really had affected her co-ordination. She made a mental note never to go without blood for so long ever again, if it was going to have this affect on her. Still at least she felt full now, and she walked over slightly shakily and dumped Silas’s unmoving form on the two-seater couch.

Her vision was getting worse, and Sephora decided that perhaps she just needed to sleep the effects off of that feeding off. It was getting close to the time she usually went to sleep anyway. So she stiffly crawled back into the bed again, and pulled the covers over her. She really was tired! Her body had already adjusted to the heat, and Silas’s body heat had helped with that, so she had no complaints about the temperature. She drifted in to sleep quickly, with that pleasant warm feeling of a full stomach.

[Silas Rosier]

It was several hours later when Silas finally regained consciousness. His eyes opened slowly and the realisation eventually struck that he didn’t actually know where the hell he was. The ceiling and wallpaper looked unfamiliar, and he wasn’t lying on a bed. It felt like a couch.

A cushion under his back had forced his spine and neck up into a strange position while he had been asleep, leaving a dull pain radiating from both locations. But that was nothing compared to how his chest felt: there was a sharp ache running like a slash from one corner to the other which sank deep into the muscles beneath like he’d been beaten a few hours ago by a meat tenderiser. What the hell had happened?

All the ‘what’s, ‘why’s and ‘where’s quickly took a backseat when Silas attempted to sit up gingerly only to notice that he quite literally couldn’t move. He strained to try and lift an arm, turn his head, but no part of his body was responding. He could open his eyes and blink, but the rest of him was effective paralysed. All he could do was stare at the ceiling, unable even to even open his mouth. His chest wasn’t moving properly and breathing was difficult.

Fuck. Not this shit again.

Right on cue the sound of white-noise and static hit ears, filling up his head and leaving room for nothing else. Dark, human-like figures were advancing around the corner of his vision and a sudden bright light almost blinded him. Immediately Silas slammed his eyes shut again, blocking the hallucinations from sight. In response, the noise in his ears nearly tripled in intensity, turning to a sound almost like roar of a jet turbine steadily getting nearer. There was a rushing now too that was building in power, and it wasn’t over yet.

Silas felt something brush against his side, and all the muscles in his body tightened as he realised what was coming next. Oh fuck. Considering how sore he was, this was not going to be good. Something seemed to move onto his chest and Silas could feel a strong weight pressing down, crushing him and almost stopping his breathing entirely. The mysterious injuries he’d gotten the day before suddenly flared up excruciatingly from the sensation. A sound of pain tried to escape from him involuntarily, but all he could manage was a strangled exhalation.

He tried to fight the impression that he was starting to suffocate. He could feel something like hands clamping hard around his wrists as though he was being pinned down and the noise in his ears was reaching a peak.

... And then it was over. All once the pressure on his chest disappeared, the noise stopped, and Silas quickly rolled painfully onto his side with a loud gasp for air.

Jesus fucking CHRIST. How he fucking HATED sleep paralysis. He should have seen it coming. He was overdue for an episode by about a week, and at least as far as duration went that attack had been relatively short. What a way to wake up.

Attempting to force it from his mind, Silas took a look at where he had ended up.

The room seemed to belong to the Three Broomsticks. Not exactly the flashiest hotel in the world but it was habitable at least. Beneath the sheets on the bed he saw dark head of hair and Silas pulled himself up gingerly into a sitting position, eyeing the girl carefully and trying not to aggravate his chest any more than necessary. He had a vague memory of meeting a dark haired girl at the Hogs Head and... Ergh, wait. No. Yes. They’d talked for a bit, stolen a meal, and The Three Broomsticks had definitely come into it somehow.

Her name was... argh fuck. Susan? Lenora? Stephanie? Sephora? ...Sephora.

Hang on a sec. A bold dark red stain was visible amongst the crumpled white sheets. Silas’s brain eventually processed that he was looking at a bloody handprint. Immediately he lifted his palm to double check that it wasn’t because of him, and sure enough, the underside of his hand was completely stained in dried blood.

What the fu-

Silas tried to stand too fast and a wave of dizziness hit him. His vision flashed white for a moment and he had to stop to lean against the couch lest he collapsed back onto it. His head was strangely light; all his limbs felt like weights in conjunction with the virtually all-over-pain he was feeling from the back of his neck, back, chest and hand. He had to fight the urge to sit down again, as even just that one sharp movement had him nearly out of breath and his heart was running like a jackhammer in his chest. Not even when he pulled all-nighters had he ever felt this specific kind of fatigue. This was something else. What the HELL was going on?

Right on cue he realised his hands were shaking. He was dehydrated and his entire throat was parched. A headache was creeping up the sides of his head and pounding into his forehead like a sledgehammer. He felt sick, like he was about to vomit but he couldn’t double over because it hurt too much to do so, and judging by his head, it felt like he would pass out if he even tried.

Next to the closed door a bottle was lying innocently on the carpet. Even in his current state Silas could recognize it as a bottle of vodka filled with louched absinthe. Alcohol. The cause and solution to more than half of his problems lately, but now it might as well have a giant neon sign saying ‘Solution!’ buzzing right over it. Immediately his stomach gave a lurch and Silas realised he hadn’t eaten in over 26 hours. His mouth, if possible, became dryer, and every impulse in his brain was telling him he needed it now.

Ignoring the girl for the moment, Silas made his way over towards the bottle. After managing to recover it, he twisted off the cap, closed his eyes, tilted his head back and made a valiant effort to try and scull the whole contents at once. For some reason it was harder than it should be to stand under his own power so Silas leaned against the wall with his elbow as he did so. He couldn’t recall feeling so weak before. The liquor was strong, and bitter, but it was liquid for his throat, and his stomach was more than willing to take whatever it could. The effect was immediate; his heart rate began to slow to something normal and his mind started to relax as the consumption triggered a dopamine release somewhere in his brain.

Silas stopped only because of a need to take a breather. As he eased up he caught sight of himself in a full length bedroom mirror across the room. What he saw was less than heartening. He was almost sickly pale, clammy, breathing shallowly and he looked utterly exhausted. His clothes were rumpled, the shirt of his suit was undone, his tie was loose, his hair was a mess, and with the bottle in hand he looked a lot like someone that had spent too long drinking and had been forced to sleep on the street. A thin film of sweat was visible on his forehead and Silas quickly wiped it off with a free sleeve before having another go with the bottle. Booze first, appearance second.

It wasn’t until he attempted to rebutton his shirt that he noticed the buttons had actually been ripped off. The white fabric of his shirt was stained red with yet more dried blood. Silas frowned and glanced at his bloody hand again, realising he should probably be giving that more thought than he was. Was the blood his or someone else’s? Silas gave the sleeping form of the girl a second long, hard look just in case, and after a few seconds he could be sure she was actually breathing. Okay, that ruled accidental homicide out.

Finished drinking for now, he turned experimentally back to the mirror and opened a few more of the buttons on his shirt, drawing the material aside to expose his chest. What he saw was, if possible, even less welcome. A massive, multicoloured bruise had formed from the top of his right shoulder in a line down to his ribs on his left like he was wearing some macabre sash. It felt just about as bad as it looked. Breathing hurt if he inhaled too deeply and any movement that used any of his chest muscles intensified the pain. Not that his head was really feeling much better at the moment.

He was rebuttoning his clothing when Silas noticed that the hand he was using was also similarly bruised on the outside edge below his little finger. The memory of how it occurred hit him a bit like a 2x4 to the back of the head.

They had Apparated. They girl had screamed, and she had broken his fucking hand. How many scrawny 20 year olds had that kind of strength?

All the old suspicion from last night came flooding back at once. His brain started clicking into place and his hand flew to his throat immediately. There was no bite mark. But then, vampires never left one. Like the blood and the torn shirt wasn’t incriminating enough, a quick exploration revealed a few bits of dried blood around his carotid artery and Silas’s exhausted, pounding head made the connection that the fatigue, shortness of breath and muscular weakness he was feeling was related to blood loss.

Oh fucking hell.

His hand dived into his pocket but his wand wasn’t there. Silas’s stomach and teeth clenched, this time in anger, and he turned his head to look around the room so fast his headache gave a malicious stab of pain and his consciousness may as well have started reeling once more. It wasn’t on the couch. Or the bedside table. He didn’t think for a second he’d willingly release it around a vampire, so where the hell did it go? If something had happened to his wand someone was going to lose a body part.

Silas crossed the room slowly, checking behind as many objects as he could and trying to ignore the discomfort from everywhere. As he went the nausea seemed to be passing and he appeared to have regained some of his strength since downing half the contents of the bottle he was still holding. It made some sense at least, there was a fair amount of sugar in louched absinthe, and if he had lost as much blood as he suspected his body was going to need all that it could get.

Finally he reached the other side of the room, but there was still no wand in sight. He glanced back at Sephora to make sure she was still asleep and immediately caught sight of a little strip of wood beneath the side of the bed. Oh fucking finally. Careful not to wake her, Silas walked over, put a hand on the bedside table and knelt down slowly to retrieve it. As he stood he inspected it damage and was pleased to discover it seemed to be in one piece so to speak. No matter how much like shit he felt, as long as he had the wand in his hand he had the advantage.

Silas stepped back cautiously and left the absinthe bottle quietly on a dresser. With another glance to make sure Sephora was still asleep, he set to work on his injuries. First the hand, and he was able to drastically reduce the bruising, but unfortunately whatever happened to his chest was a little harder to repair and further out of his expertise die to the magnitude. The best he managed to do was dull the pain a little more to something less hindering. He really needed to try and improve his dismal skill at healing considering how much he was getting hurt lately. Unfortunately he couldn’t do anything about the fact his skull felt like it was growing spikes out his forehead, or that his head was threatening to make him pass out again.

Alright. That just left the vampire. Trying to fight his body’s insistences that he sit down and let the weakness pass, Silas rounded the wand on the girl still sleeping in the bed. With a loud bang a multitude of silver ropes burst out from the end of his wand, lashing themselves tightly around Sephora’s wrists and legs, displacing most of her blankets and even snaking their way around her throat.

“Rise and shine,” Silas growled hoarsely.

[Sephora Forrest]

Sephora’s eyes snapped open the second some strange objects touched her skin and the nice little temperature bubble she had made was disturbed. Pain sliced through her head like a knife, and a feral snarl ripped through her lips. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing waking me up this early you basta…” she started to yell, but was cut off when ropes closed around her throat. Ok, so this was a problem. A problem that she really didn’t want to deal with when she was supposed to be sleeping and she had the worst headache in history. If she didn’t know better she would say she had a bloody awful hangover, but that was impossible, considering last night’s events. How on earth would she have managed to drink enough alcohol to get drunk enough to cause this sort of a headache?

“Rise and shine,” growled Silas none too kindly, snapping her from thoughts about her headache. And he was holding that stick - wand - of his. Shit. Somehow she had forgotten it last night. But really, what could a stick do? In the grand scheme of things, why should a stick be important? Well, obviously it meant that he could tie her up - or do anything else to her either. She supposed that she should thank her lucky stars that she wasn’t dead… yet. Especially judging by the murderous expression on his face. He really didn’t look all too well… That was probably her fault actually, but still. But if he had his wand pointed at her in such an accusing manner, there was no need to guess about the fact that he had remembered his suspicions about her. Probably because she broke his hand. Which was well… brilliant, just brilliant… NOT.

Actually, now that she looked closer at him, it wasn’t just his complexion that made him look so rough. His shirt was all ripped and bloodied - why hadn’t she thought to clean all of that up before? When she thought back to when she had finished her feeding… Why couldn’t she remember it properly? There was the vaguest of images in her memory, but other than that her mind was blank after she had started feeding off him. Why was that? The more she thought about it actually, the more it made sense… sort of. Exactly HOW much alcohol did Silas have in his system before he came into the Hog’s Head last night? Because he sure had drunk a hell of a lot afterwards, and absurd as the idea sounded, she may have actually managed to get drunk off his blood. So he was to blame for this God awful headache, or hangover as it was. But that brought up the problem of her being tied up with ropes again.

“What do you want?” she demanded bluntly, even thought she suspected she knew the answer. He wanted answers - who wouldn’t - and probably her death too. Well, hopefully she would be able to talk her way out of that. But she didn’t see how she possibly could do that… He did look pretty pissed; to put it mildly.

[Silas Rosier]

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing waking me up this early you basta…”

Sephora’s loud shouts at being woken in such a fashion slammed into Silas’s skull. The volume intensified his headache with a painful throb at every syllable and he grimaced visibly in discomfort and annoyance. Automatically his wand flicked in response and the ropes around the girl’s throat tightened roughly, cutting off her last word. “Easy,” Silas hissed through clenched teeth, wincing visibly again at a particularly malicious stab of pain. As if he didn’t feel sick enough already, he didn’t need her shrieks compounding the issue. “Yell that loudly again, you’ll never speak again, got it?”

With a bit of reluctance he allowed the rope to loosen again. He could make a few educated guesses about last night’s events, but to get details and conformation he needed her account of things. He was fairly sure whatever happened was nothing he had agreed to or he wouldn’t have woken up in this state with half the night a complete blackout. But, that also meant the girl was clearly an amateur. He wasn’t a vampire, but even he knew that getting as far away from the victim as possible before they woke up was practically part of Vampire Survival 101, especially when they had wands.

“What do you want?”

“Take a guess,” Silas barked hoarsely, the irritation in his voice clear. It wasn’t just Sephora that had him feeling so belligerent. His heart as still going abnormally fast, the act of talking rasped his dry throat, his brain was still strangely numb like he couldn’t form any coherent thoughts, he was exhausted, weak, and Silas quickly found himself having to use an arm to lean against the dresser. Even the hand he was using to aim the wand at Sephora was visibly unsteady. “No games. What the hell happened last night?”