Dacian
Vampire (A)
Creature of the Night
Posts: 330
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Post by Dacian on Aug 14, 2010 17:01:18 GMT 1
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]“Oh yes, I can see your plan is folding out swimmingly.” He looked around pointedly. “Well, I don’t see reinforcements, and you’re still tied up.” Oh his was a ridiculous plan. Kidnapping a wizard. That alone would be cause enough for a re-evaluation of tactics. A powerful wizard with a history of winning the battles he picked; he couldn’t even recall why he thought that would be a good idea in the first place. But then looking at the wizard, so helplessly conquered... yeah, worth it.
Silas made a derisive sort of noise. “You really don’t know anything about me, do you?” he asked rhetorically. “At least I have a plan; remind me what the hell you think you’re accomplishing again?” came the snide reply. They were going in circles here. Dacian’s fuzzy brain was beginning to get tired of the verbal ping-pong.
The plan wasn’t to starve Silas to death after a few weeks of idle chatter. Time to change the topic. Get things back on track. “How’s your stomach? Burning yet? Feeling a little queasy?” The wizard didn’t look so well. Aside from the obvious broken bones and bloody noses, Silas did look a little out of sorts. How delightful.
Silas looked up from the photo to flash Dacian a quick, almost ridiculing smile. “How’s your head? Spinning yet? Not going to throw up are you?”
Dacian chuckled. He’d been drunk on more occasions than the number of years Silas had been alive. “This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve given me a headache or inspired the overwhelming desire to vomit.”
“Yeah, me constantly kicking your arse will do that,” Silas quipped back. Dacian’s brow creased. So changing the subject hadn’t helped. Conversation apparently wasn’t his strong point. Silas always had a reply, and fifty-percent of the time, Dacian didn’t have one quite so sharp. He wasn’t going to wear Silas down this way. When in doubt, resort to violence, was his best strategy. He growled, not much liking Silas’s customary smug-bastard tone. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Aug 14, 2010 19:26:33 GMT 1
That comment seemed to have done the trick. Dacian went silent with a look on his face like trying to think of a response was giving him constipation. Eventually the vampire he had to settle for grunting like his intelligent cavemen brethren. Silas gave a lopsided smirk. “Thought as much,” he added to himself, making no secret of his cold laughter.
Things lapsed into a terse silence, no thanks to the fact the vampire was still fiddling with the photograph he’d plundered earlier. Silas found his gaze drawn to it despite his better judgment. It was almost hypnotic, the way the vampire kept idly turning it in his fingers without rhyme or reason. Dacian’s mind – if he had one – was clearly elsewhere.
That said, it wasn’t really Dacian that Silas was moodily focused on: it was the figure in the photo. The figure of Jac was desperately trying to stay on her feet, clutching onto anything she could grab onto only to be thrown around again when Dacian turned the image. It was hard to see in the pathetic light of the torch, but he could gather enough about what was happening.
... Ergh. He had to be a masochist. That was the only explanation Silas could think of. He was sitting here tied up with his knee shattered, foot broken, and in more pain than he could remember for years, but the thing that was pissing him off the most was the fact Dacian was playing with a goddamn picture. Fuck. What the hell had happened to his priorities?
But yet, he couldn’t look away. Every time Dacian gave the image a particularly sharp turn to watch Jac tumble, Silas’s found his scowl deepening. The vampire could have thrown the real one about with just as much ease as he was doing now. An angry noise managed to escape from Silas’s throat.
How much time had he spent with her exactly? And doing what? He tried to force down the scenes starting to play in his head of Jac’s last moments, but they were just replaced with random memories of the time they’d spent together. Simple things they’d never be able to share again. Fuck. Hadn’t Dacian done enough? He’d already taken her from him, what else did he want? When he got out of this, Silas was going to kill him with his bare hands.
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Dacian
Vampire (A)
Creature of the Night
Posts: 330
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Post by Dacian on Aug 14, 2010 19:29:50 GMT 1
So potentially yes, this could end badly. Silas might have another trick up his sleeve or pull another rabbit from the metaphorical hat but he could quite easily be grandstanding. The original plan had been to stay as far away as possible from the wizard, but that had been foiled when Silas found him. Since it was impossible to keep away from him then, Dacian couldn’t see any other option.
Silas had all the leverage he could want to keep Dacian under his thumb. Vivian, for one. The wizard knew where she was, and knew the lengths Dacian would go to to keep her safe... He sighed. There was a time when he would have kept all his cards to his chest, hidden a few in his shoes and generally cheated his way through the entire card game. Something about Silas just made him want to forget the game and rip his head off. He just couldn’t seem to help himself.
He absently turned the photo on it’s side, rolling it through one-hundred and eighty degrees to watch the moving picture flounder. He’d learned to trust his instincts, so if getting rid of Silas felt like the best thing to do, it probably was. He glanced up to his prisoner when Silas made a distinctively peeved grunt, blinking as his vision focused sluggishly. The mortal was staring intently at the picture, and he lifted it experimentally. He huffed as the wizard’s eyes followed.
So the brunette was seemingly Silas’s only weakness? What a happy coincidence he’d told that little lie about killing her. Although maybe he should have kept that one for later. If Dacian were in the same situation, he would have nothing to lose now. At least the anger the lie had fostered was worth exploring. It was a rare thing to see Silas’s feathers so ruffled.
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Post by Silas Rosier on Aug 19, 2010 14:22:56 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] The picture moved and Silas’s eyes automatically followed. His mind was still lost on Jac, so it wasn’t until the vampire grunted – the noise surprisingly loud in the silence – that he was jolted back to the situation at hand.
He looked up, a familiar scowl replacing his morose look. What did Dacian want now? He didn’t like the vampires expression in the slightest. Had he seen him staring at the picture? ... Fuck, what a stupid question. Of course he had. This was Dacian: any opportunity he found to make his day shittier, the vampire grabbed it with both hands and ran off cackling with it.
Crap. The vampire was carefully getting to his feet and lifting the torch from its makeshift mount. Silas wasn’t even slightly in the mood for this. Jac had seen to that. “No, staying back there’s fine. You’re hotter from a distance,” he said belligerently. “And I mean a lot hotter.”
Dacian paused only long enough to throw Silas an unimpressed look before making his way towards him, presenting him with the stolen photo of the now tussled looking brunette. “I think maybe you would have taken this a bit more seriously if I’d have brought her here, hmm?” he taunted as he crouched beside him.
Silas’s glare was resolute. Don’t look at it. Don’t look down. Don’t look—
Fuck.
He couldn’t seem to help it. It was like his attention was drawn. Jac looked imploringly up at him, her hair all out of place and her eyes wide with worry. The little picture couldn’t talk, but her mouth moved with a plea for help. He wasn’t sure if it was worse seeing how nervous, frightened and confused she looked, or that she seemed so damn relieved to see him. Silas could feel something drop out of the pit of his stomach. That the picture could trust him when he couldn’t even save—
... He was digging himself into a hole. He knew it. He was making the same mistake twice and leaving a gap in his defences so wide Dacian could drive a semi through it. Yet he couldn’t. fucking. stop himself. ‘Man possessed’ was an entirely too accurate analogy.
When he next spoke, Silas’s voice was murderous. “Put it down,” he snarled, realising his fists were drawn tightly behind his back enough to turn the knuckles white. All the pain was blurring together so much it’d been hard to sort out what belonged to what.
With an infuriatingly curious expression, Dacian lowered the torch and solidly met his eyes. “No,” the vampire replied simply.
“Fine.”
Silas didn’t hesitate. Not with Dacian in such a convenient striking distance. He lashed out, grabbing ahold of the side of left Dacian’s head to steady it while driving his thumb forcefully into the eye. The heel of his other hands palm slammed into Dacian’s eyesocket with a satisfying crack, leaving the vampire reeling.
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Dacian
Vampire (A)
Creature of the Night
Posts: 330
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Post by Dacian on Aug 25, 2010 12:43:16 GMT 1
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]Dacian recoiled instantly, clutching his face and roaring in pain. The torch and picture fell to the stone floor beside Silas, the torch slowly rolling down the decline. White hot agony exploded through his head, like fire behind his eyes that consumed all of his attention. He must have fallen, because when he could finally reach out his arm despite the still rampant pain, he felt only rock.
Eyes firmly closed after even trying to open them caused red hot pokers to sear through his eyelids, he scrambled blindly back up the rock face only to confirm he had found Silas when his seeking arm was suddenly hit, a split second later the heat of what was apparently the torch searing his fingers. He hissed and recoiled. When no second attack came, he deduced that Silas must still have his legs tied, and thus he must be out of range.
Face turned to the side to dissuade any more attacks on his already blind eyes, he gathered his feet underneath him so he crouched, and waited, listening to better assess the situation. Every time Silas won a battle, Dacian swore to himself he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. This was the last, damn it. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Aug 25, 2010 12:45:27 GMT 1
[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_bg.png,true][atrb=valign,top] | [rs=2][bg=ffffff][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Silas/Scripts/sigpostscript_mainbg.png][atrb=style,background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;] That’d done the trick. The photograph had fallen onto the wet stone and the moment Dacian was out of striking distance Silas lunged for it. He threw himself onto his side despite the sickening crunching sensation from his shattered leg; his fingers seeming to fumble over it in his hurry to shove it in his pocket before Dacian recovered. Only once it was secure did he stretch for the torch, grunting with the exertion as his fingers snagged it right before it rolled out of reach.
Dacian wasn’t wasting any time. Silas tried to force himself up, only for the vampire to start blindly feeling the stone in an attempt to find him. Son of a bitch. What’d it take for the bastard to get the hint? Silas passed the torch to his other arm, and in a fluid movement stabbed the burning pitch into the back of Dacian’s hand. The smell of charred flesh accompanied Dacian’s loud hiss of pain, and the vampire finally backed out of range.
He had to move, and fast. The vampire wouldn’t be put off for long. The creature was now seated like some bizarre gargoyle, eyes closed and sitting eerily as though listening intently. In a fit of anger Silas was sorely tempted to throw the torch at him to hope he’d just spontaneously combust, but common sense caught up quickly. The torch was his only weapon; he shouldn’t give up that advantage so easily.
He had to get out. This was the single most dismal escape opportunity on face of the planet, but what other choice did he have? If he could kill Dacian with the torch (read: set him on fire) then maybe he could— wait here to die. Maybe drag himself to Hogsmeade. He was doomed anyway, so why not deny Dacian the pleasure of killing him himself?
Legs. He had to untie his legs first. Fuck if he knew what he was going to achieve by it, but a little instinct was screaming in the back of his head to get out of the ropes NOW. He put the torch down, glancing up to check if Dacian had moved. If the vampire so much as twitched Silas was going to ram the flames into Dacian’s face.
He never got the chance to try and untie himself. Perhaps the vampire had heard the wood hitting the floor, because Silas barely had enough time to shout and reach for the handle before the vampire was upon him again.
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Dacian
Vampire (A)
Creature of the Night
Posts: 330
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Post by Dacian on Aug 25, 2010 12:46:08 GMT 1
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]Dacian leapt forward, almost frog-like from his current position with arms outstretched, landing mostly on Silas. Quite a good aim for a blind man. He grabbed onto the wizard, fingers clasping around the fabric of his shirt. He felt the heat of the torch on his right side before Silas swung it into his chin. Pain of a different caliber rushed across his face, adding to that of his eyes. Dacian yelled and lashed out to the right, his aim to knock the torch away.
SIlas was evasive, and his lack of eyesight was more than a hindrance. It was a frantic grapple for the torch, loud with shouting from both men, and Silas had the advantage. After multiple burns on his arms, and shoulder, there was the distinct smell of burning hair and Dacian had to cease in his battle to slap out the smoldering hair burning his scalp. And as soon as he stopped his assault on Silas, the wizard’s attacks continued from his left.
Apparently handling pitch and the frequent habit of running his hands though his hair was not helping his cause, and Dacian made an attempt to roll away as his entire head began to burn along with the stabbing pain inside his skull. He slapped frantically at it, only by dumb luck putting out the miniature blaze before it could move onto his clothing. His hands and head were in searing agony. Every flex of his hand was torturous.
He became still, blind eyes turned away from the wizard. The single thought in his mind was the scale of his stupidity. But dwelling on it would not help. Silas would die. And if it was sooner rather than later, so be it. There was no room for ponderous thought here. He allowed instinct to take over, letting thought regress to the pure essentials. He was hurt, he needed energy. There was a human within reach. It was a simple equation.
Even though he lay not breathing, the pervasive reek of burning hair lingered in his nostrils and he huffed, slowly rising to a sitting position. He was disorientated, again, knowing only his vague position in terms of Silas. His most dominant sense, sight, was completely gone. His senses of smell and taste were ruined by the stench of burnt hair. Even touch was limited, his hands useless with their constant bombardment of pain signals. All he had left was hearing, but thankfully vampires were not mythically tied to bats for no reason.
His head tilted, testing a few different angles to triangulate the origin of the one sound in the cavern aside from dripping water. Tha-dump, tha-dump, tha-dump. There. Even blinded, he turned to face Silas’s exact position. The next inhale and exhale of breath confirmed it. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Aug 25, 2010 12:47:15 GMT 1
Silas was breathing heavily, slumped against the wall and desperately sucking in air. That’d been close. Way too fucking close. Dacian had rolled away, but Silas kept the torch up, aiming the crackling flames in Dacian’s direction like he would a wand. Sheer force of habit.
The acrid smell of burning hair was thick, almost palatable, but Silas didn’t spare a thought of sympathy. His own knee was searing in pain from the struggle, making it impossible to think. Dots of light were starting to flicker in front of his vision and Silas determinedly blinked them away. His gaze didn’t leave the vampire for a second.
Fuck, he might actually be able to win this. If Dacian came back for another round they’d see who was laughing when Silas set the bastard’s crotch on fire.
There was no movement from the vampire and Silas was about to shout out a taunt when the vampires head turned questioningly; almost as though he was listening for him. Well, shit. Silas shut his mouth firmly. Dacian could find him the hard way – he wasn’t about to go make it easier for him. Unfortunately, it didn’t make a difference. His heart was hammering in his chest due to the pain and on cue the vampires head turned, his sightless eyes staring right at Silas’s torso. Fuck. Trust a goddamn vampire to pick up on that. Traitorous organs.
Oh well. Bring it.
Silas braced himself as Dacian began to slowly crawl towards him. He let his hand slide to the middle of the torch’s handle for a better hold and tightened his grip, keeping it trained on the approaching figure. Not yet. The vampire was in striking distance. Just a little closer—
Now.
The torch stabbed upwards, striking Dacian violently under the chin and knocking his head back. This time the vampire was ready and he snatched wildly at the source of the pain, catching the torch by the burning fuel. The vampire hissed, the scuffle punctuated by shouting as both men wrested for it. Dacian finally got the upper hand, and out of the corner of his eye Silas saw the torch get thrown across the room, landing somewhere far behind them with a clatter.
Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
The vampire was still coming, but there was nowhere for Silas to retreat to. He redoubled his assaults, managing to land a fair number of blows on the vampires face and head before the vampire leaned on his broken knee. Hard. Silas gave a roar of pain. No way had that been accidental. The distraction was enough. The next thing Silas was aware of was a fist colliding with his jaw (again) before he was knocked on his back and the vampire was clumsily crawling on top of him (again).
What the- No. No no no no.
He tried to push the vampire off, only for Dacian to stubbornly gain purchase by gripping his thighs around Silas’s hips. Shit. No. Fuck. Silas’s struggles became more desperate, his leg absolutely exploding in pain from the effort. Son of a— Even blinded, the vampire’s attacks were relentless. It didn’t seem to matter how many of Silas’s punches found their mark or how many strikes he managed to block, the vampire’s sheer strength was making his arms feel like they were about to break.
Fucker.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Silas didn’t hesitate; he raised an arm over his head to shield his face, and with the other made a fast, decisive strike at Dacian’s groin.
When in doubt: crush, twist, and pull.
The reaction was instantaneous. Dacian instinctively doubled over, reaching for Silas’s offending wrist and choking out a noise that would make any other man’s balls shrivel in sympathy. The victory was short lived. Dacian’s grip tightened, and Silas was forced to let go with a shout of pain when something in his wrist cracked. The next thing he was aware of was Dacian’s forehead colliding with his own before things went black.
... Again.
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Dacian
Vampire (A)
Creature of the Night
Posts: 330
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Post by Dacian on Aug 25, 2010 12:58:10 GMT 1
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]Oh god, he was in so much pain. Silas finally lay still beneath him, and he hung his head as if catching his breath. Tha-dump. Tha-dump. His eyes screamed in bright white protest as he opened them, still sightless. Tha-dump. His lips parted, throat aching. Tha-dump. He folded down, seeking out the throbbing pulse in the mortal’s neck. Tha-dump. He sunk his teeth carefully into the skin, blood flowing readily around his lips until he captured the bite wound and began to feed.
Relief was almost instant. His hands began to tingle, and the burning ballheadache began to subside. Every wound, every bruise warmed with healing energy. His eyes began to burn, the white nothingness starting to mottle and dull. His scalp crawled as skin began to heal and hair follicles rejuvenated. Over the next few days, hair would begin to grow as the injuries spurred his body into life, healing, fixing, repairing.
His stomach began to numb, and as the pain faded, his head began to swim. The world was wavering, as though he was swaying. Something in his addled mind reminded him to stop as the steady heartbeat began to speed and he withdrew his fangs, clumsily lapping at the wound.
He collapsed heavily to the side, inciting a groan from the semi-conscious mortal. A clumsy roll put him on his back, and he lay still as the fresh blood began to heal him. It wouldn’t be enough, it would take time, but at least he was in a better state than Silas. That was, at least, if the world stopped spinning. Dacian grunted and turned away from the wizard, resting his cheek on the cooling rock.
Damn, he hadn’t been this drunk in centuries. Even his legs were staging a protest. Fine. He didn’t need to get up anyway. He liked it here; the rock was comfy. |
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Post by Silas Rosier on Sept 10, 2010 15:24:13 GMT 1
Ow. Ow ow ow. Fuck.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. It only felt like a second. Had to have been more. Nothing quite like waking up to the all-too-familiar feeling of fangs in your neck.
Goddamnit.
Silas was too groggy to do much by way of protesting. Being knocked out three times in less than an hour had that effect. Thankfully Dacian seemed to be done feeding and Silas felt the other mans tongue run along his neck before the vampire rolled off heavily to lie beside him.
Great. He’d been downgraded to human blood vending machine. Good to know.
Urgh. His eyes flickered open, vision unfocused. God, his head was killing him. So was pretty much everything else. Fuck this. Silas groaned and tried to roll onto his side but only managed to move a few inches before he was overtaken by hacking coughs and surges of pain. Fuck. Ow. It felt like Dacian had bruised all the way down to the muscle in his fury.
Argh. No. Lying on his back and focusing on breathing was easier. If only his head would stop hurting long enough to think. He never thought he could feel so exhausted. The ground was solid and uncomfortable, the cold rock digging into the back of his head. His vision was starting to stabilise and a dim view of the cave roof was coming back into focus.
“This afterglow sucks,” Silas managed to groan, sucking in a lungful of air to test his sore and battered ribs. Dacian really needed to lose some weight if he wanted to use other people as a futon.
Fuck this. He needed a drink. A big one. Preferably a double. No, triple. Actually, just leave the bottle. Once he got out of this he was cracking open some Suisse Grande Distillerie Lyonnaise in celebration.
“Jesus. No wonder Cassie went back to Ed. From the feel of it she can’t have been that satisfied,” Silas spat angrily. Considering he’d just had a handful of Dacian’s crotch it felt like an acceptable target. “And before you protest, Love, it's not that cold.”
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