Addict &amp; shifter

||Murder he wrote||

Karian didn’t reply at first. It was true that he’d hinted at some of his own past mistakes, but he still wasn’t sure just how far he could trust Michael. They’d had a rough start, but despite that, he’d trusted the shifter enough to accept his help with the latest assignment. Maybe it was because he’d been in the other’s position before, or maybe just a hint of compassion broke through, but his voice was quiet when he finally spoke, any trace of practiced deception absent.

“I can now, but it wasn’t always that way,” he said, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “When I was still human, the only things I killed were vampires. They had taken my family from me, and I could never move on from that. After I was turned, I refused to hunt; I couldn’t bring myself to take a human life. Only once before that night had I ever made an exception, and that was only because I thought I was protecting my twin, whom I hadn’t seen in over a decade in a half. Her escort survived, though, mostly because of her efforts to keep him stable, and he would have died eventually had I not put my thirst for vengeance aside long enough to provide the antidote to the poison that coated my blades.”

He was reluctant to continue. Doing so would only reopen wounds that had never fully healed. They didn’t sting as much as they once had, but the reminder of his greatest failure was never pleasant.

“I spent the first several nights of my new existence surviving on bottled blood alone while I tried to decide what course to take. I’ve always been a survivor before anything else, but the thought of watching the sunrise was tempting. Dravias stayed with me, though, but I knew that he was trying to make his own choices. Our people wouldn’t accept me as what I’d become, and I could never swear loyalty to the Empire. My only option was to remain on this world, and it put him in a very difficult position.

“Less than a week after Lothan turned me, Dravias made his choice, and in his haste to share it, he came to find me as soon as the sun set.” He closed his eyes, his voice strained as he continued. “I had just awoken, hadn’t had the chance to finish off the bottle beside me, and I lacked the control to recognize him as anything other than prey. By the time I regained my senses, he was dead.

“I wanted to end myself right then and there. It wasn’t until afterwards that I learned that he planned to remain on Earth with me, but I’d killed him before he had the chance to speak. Lothan took me back to our homeland, and I spent the next several nights in the dungeon, refusing to take another life. The Emperor would have none of that, though. He finally shoved someone in there with me, and refused to release me until I’d fed. I managed to hold my resolve for only a few days, but I suppose that it was inevitable that I would lose control with a human in such close proximity when I was starving.

“I don’t expect you to take this as any sign of camaraderie. I’m telling you this because I want to make sure that you know I speak the truth when I tell you that I understand. Nothing I say or do will ever make up for what happened that night, and it’s something that I have to live with for as much of eternity as the gods decide I’ll have.” He’d opened his eyes again to meet Michael’s gaze. “A coward wouldn’t have jumped into a fray with a demon, and a coward would have run at the first indication that I wasn’t as harmless as one would hope. I may not like you, but I’ve developed at least some respect for you despite my efforts not to. If you’re still determined to end your life, then I’m not going to spend any more time trying to convince you that it’s not the solution. You make your own decisions, and you can either accept my help, try to make amends, or let them kill you.”

Michael stamped on the part of him that wanted to retreat. It wasn't going to win him over, not this time at least. Karian had gone through hell and back. Most would have opted out years ago, but yet here he was, willing to fight on. Hazel eyes glistened with fresh tears. The thought of ending up like Karian scared him. He didn't want to be okay with killing people, or even want to bury demons that he knew were deserved. So uncertain, the Irishman stepped back.

"How do yeh make amends for something like t'at, if you had the blokes who killed yer family here now, would you let 'em get away Scott free? Somehow I doubt t'at. So how can I expect Thomas t'do the same. I murdered his little boy, Karian."

Sirens wailed in the distance, loud and piercing across the cities nightlife. His muscles coiled, tensing out of habit as his eyes flickered to the parking lot. Thomas wouldn't come for him this soon; even he wasn't that brave. And besides, if he knew anything about the cop, it was that he liked his research. He'd be reading up on whatever he could round about now.

#silvertigertraveler

||Dead moral|| Closed||

The cry from the eagle sent a wave of pain into his head, but the feeling of talons shredding through skin was the more pressing concern. Silver’s grasp slipped as Michael escaped him, and only his quick reflexes were enough for him to grab onto one of the branches instead of plummeting to the ground. He hung there, glaring up at the shifter before hauling himself up and planting his feet beneath him, and it took several minutes for the explanation to sink in.

Silver simply stared at him, tipping his head to the side as his eyes narrowed. What kind of game are you playing? The thought didn’t make it past his lips, but something about the question in his mind cut through the madness for a few precious moments.

“I still hate when you do that,” he said, his voice much calmer than it had been. “Especially now. I hear enough shit in my head, and adding your voice to it doesn’t help with the whole stability issue. Not that I give two fucks about it these days, but it’s still annoying as hell.”

He shook his head as a hushed laugh that held no humor escaped him. Silver knew his perspective was skewed beyond repair, but there had to be some reason behind the reappearance of old acquaintances and allies. That rationale did nothing to ease the searing pain in his chest – quite the opposite – and he barely even registered the gashes on his face as they healed.

“I remember you. I thought I did when I first saw you, but I couldn’t be certain. There was no possible way that you could still be alive, and so I thought you were just another human who lacked the sense to wear something to protect himself from his environment. But then you changed shape, and that voice was actually real when I heard it in my mind. It’s difficult to tell sometimes, but I knew it had to be you. If you’re not revived or reincarnated or whatever the hell happened with the other two, then the only remaining possibility was that you had lived for the past hundred or so years.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to maintain his tenuous grip on sense for just a little longer. Silver knew that he was fighting a losing battle, and these lucid moments were coming less frequently as the years passed; he wasn’t ready to lose himself to insanity just yet.

“I’m not going to try to eat you, so get your ass back here and talk. I don’t know when either of us will have the opportunity again. But if I hear your twice damned voice in my head again, I’m going to have to fucking shoot you.”

Michael-eagle hovered closer, his vast wingspan stirring the ghouls below into a growling frenzy of moans and snapping jaws. Some of them, those with more control over their mobility, clawed at the tree in failed attempts to climb it. The others however only seemed capable of drooling and stumbling over each other. The shifter glanced down before resettling himself on the tree branch to de-transform. Being naked in the presence of others still didn't particularly bother him. They were dead after all, even Karian.

He sat there and looked over at the vampire, still ready to flee at the first sign of his sanity beginning to slip. "I've lived fer the past hundred an' twenty years," a gentle frown tugged at his brow, "What about you? Why're yeh even here on earth? Thought that yeh lived on another planet somewhere. Cause if ye' haven't noticed, visiting hours are over." He gestured down at the swarm below.

#silvertigertraveler

§ ((Im so annoying sorrynotsorry lol. But she's a hunter, its too perfect))

((You’re not annoying, I love prompts!))

His wrists and ankles were bound tight with Silver chains, the cold metal biting viscous sores into his wrists as he struggled relentlessly against the bonds. He couldn’t get away. These hunters knew everything about his condition, more than he did in fact.

As Tehra stepped closer he growled deep at the pit of his throat, eyeing the blade in her hand with vehemence. “So that’s it then?” he snapped, refusing to look away even as the poisonous metal shifted closer towards his chest, “Yer just gonna listen to whatever bullshit they feed you like some kind of fecking slave? Jesus Christ Tehra, they’re lying, I’m not a fecking killer… I’m not. I’d never hurt anyone!”

"HNNG, FUCK!” He cried agonizingly as the streamlined blade delved slowly and tortuously into his flesh. Blood welled in an instant, pooling around the wound and cascading along his chest, soaking into the hemline of his jeans. He’d heal, but it would take time… that’s if he managed to survive this thing at all.

As always, Tehra leant her cheek into his hand as he held her there for a moment, closing her eyes to focus on the touch of his strong hands. In that moment a realization hit Tehra harder than any vampire ever had. She’d known it in her gut for a while, but fear and other distractions had kept her from paying any attention to it. Now, with the only distraction being the sound of the engine, she could not deny the truth any longer.

Opening her eyes, she met Michael’s. This man- she loved him. She couldn’t say for how long, but she would be lying to herself if she tried to deny it at this point. Nothing in her old life mattered, the only thing that mattered was being by Michael’s side and keeping him safe. Tehra had no way of knowing if he could tell her thoughts from the way she looked at him, but there was certainly a moment of anticipation between them. Her lips nearly parted to speak, but Michael’s deep voice rang out first. His words were not anything close to what she’d been expecting to hear, but they made sense, and Tehra’s expression shifted into a smile. Perhaps now was not the time to tell him, if she ever told him at all. “Sarnie and chips, that sounds lovely.” The huntress spoke, unbuckling her own seatbelt. She went to follow him out into the parking lot, but hesitated as he mentioned the lack of a lock. "Due to the nature of whats in my bags, I’d rather not leave it alone until we have a lock on the door. Any chance you don’t mind grabbing the food and lock while I wait here? We could break in the little mini-kitchen in here?" Tehra said with a smile. She wasn’t about to leave the piles of money in her duffle bag alone in an unlocked vehicle.

God she was beautiful, even after running from the guild, leaving everything she knew and moving into a freaking caravan of all places. She was still beautiful. He admired her face a moment too long, finding that once again it was a struggle to look anywhere else. Awkward.

"I don't mind," he shrugged, a wide grin accompanying the words, "I've still got enough dosh left on me for a lock and some food. I'll be back in about five. There's gotta be some tools in the back'a this thing t'at I can fix the door up with."

With one last, lingering look he set off through the forest. If memory served well, (which it often didn't,) there should be a shop nearby. He walked with his hands stuffed deep down into his pockets and his head ducked low. The guys at the pub were bad enough, god forbid anyone from the old gang see him, Michael hadn't left on good terms. There'd been a fight, a big one. People had gotten hurt.

Minutes drawled by, him staring down at his shoes on the pavement, as if they held some vast worldly secret for his ears only. With his eyes averted, he almost missed the store. If not for the fact he almost fell over a billboard outside, then he would have. "Bennie's", the sign read in big, tacky green lettering. Michael released an inward groan and slipped inside, openly fighting an eye roll as a cheery bell rang above his head. Talk about deceptive.

His eyes darted about the place, running along aisles and then finally, the counter. It looked pretty empty. Good, empty meant less chance of being recognized.

#theimpossiblegirlsrp

Vampire *evil grin*

A crow perched on Michaels roof, cawing away at the morning sun until the Irishman, grouchy and for some reason itchy, stirred from sleep. “I don’t wanna.” He groaned childishly into his pillow, whatever else he had to say muffling into the plush comforters.

Eventually, after ten minutes of grouching and groaning he rose from the bed and shuffled idly into the kitchen. A small patch of sunlight filtered through open blinds, bleaching his laminate white. When Michael moved to walk through it, it scolded him. Burned his skin and sent him yelping backwards until his side met the fridge with a crash. “Fuck!” He clutched his wounded leg, peering down at the frazzled flesh that had already begun to heal. “Well that ain’t right.” He murmured, glaring at the wound.

Only one thing for it.

Two minutes later he was on the phone to Tehra, and of course playing around with his new aversion to sunlight. He balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear. His free hand flicking in and out of the ray in his kitchen. Every time it hurt, he’d recoil with a little curse. “Come on, pick up.” he moaned after a minute crawled by. One thought had already wriggled into his mind. Vampire. But that was impossible… though now he mulled over it. He was feeling a little thirsty.

An animalistic snarl was the only sound that escaped Tehra’s lips when the witch sent her against the wall. She struggled against the power, but her legs refused to move. Her hands could, however, and she went to draw another blade to throw at the witch when a male voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Tehra, now isn’t the time. Your weapons aren’t blessed, they won’t do any real damage to her. And you can’t exactly behead her from over there. Stay quiet"

"Luke no!" Tehra protested in her own mind, knowing Luke was listening- Tehra was well-practiced against vampires compelling her, but she allowed Luke in her mind enough to speak to her. "I can’t just WATCH her do whatever she wants to Michael."

The vampire turned, setting his icy gaze upon Tehra even in the darkness from the witch. She needed to LISTEN to him. "It’s for your own safety. The bitch won’t hurt him, but she will hurt you. Your best bet is to stay quiet, wait this out, and hope she doesn’t decide to take you out or take you with her to get you out of the way. Once she goes, we can prepare ourselves properly for dealing with her."

The lack of protest in her mind informed Luke that he’d managed to get through to her. He was right, and he knew it. He knew the huntress would be seething with rage at the moment, but she had gone silent. Good, they needed to keep her alive. Luke, of course, was the only one who wasn’t pinned to something by magic, but he knew that if he stepped the wrong way, he wouldn’t remain that way for long. So he made no move towards her, instead opting to talk to her and hope she was mostly planning to show her power and then take her leave.

"So what exactly is it you want from him anyways, besides the obvious- I mean you’re practically drooling. And why him? I feel like there are much better options out there. Perhaps people who are, oh I don’t know, already vampires.” He teased, his eyes sparkling as he grinned.

Michael stared at the vampire as if he'd just given birth to a litter of flying pigs. "T'anks mate," he gasped, pain lacing his side from where it'd collided with the fridge, "I'll try not teh take offence to that."

Bella, tiring of the theatrics, waved her hand in a circular sweep, from the top of her head to her navel, demanding silence in a room full of rambunctious men, and of course, Tehra. She faced the attractive, slick looking dracul with a delicately risen brow. He was handsome, aged like vintage wine. But not at all her type.

"Vampires are common, darling. You plague the earth like locusts Michael here however-" her hand trailed seductively down the shifters chest, brushing through soft hair. He snarled in response, outright roaring when it came to cup his crotch, "-is the last of his kind. Shifters were hunted to extinction by the likes of her and her guild years ago." Michael lunged again, but found the binds too strong for it to be of much use.

Confident in her power, Bella continued unfazed, palming his groin in lavish moves. "I'm a collector of rare things... and he more than classifies, but you." Turning to the huntress, her jealous emerald eyes spoke volumes of hate. "You wish to steal him from me." With another, elegant wave of her hand, she relinquished the Irishman, letting him free of his binds.

For a moment Michael stood perplexed. She was letting them go-- it didn't. Realization hit like a train, literally. A stabbing pain erupted in his core, bending him double and clutching for purchase on the counter top. Pans and plates were sent crashing to the floor.

"Agh!" He cried desperately, wrapping an arm around his abdomen, "What're yeh doing?" Bella's shrill laugh pierced the room as, with the same hand, she threw Luke against the wall, holding him there.

"I think it's high time Michael here completed his transition, became a fully fledged spirit walker." The Irishman tried to focus through the sodden curls that clung to his brow, and the lust that was rising rapidly within his gut. "He's going to kill the huntress."

#theimpossiblegirlsrp

OOC: Hiatus over. Michael's back guys :D

#OOC #mun speaks

Hiatus

OOC: Michael is going on hiatus for a while. I've lost a big chunk of muse for him recently, and feel that whatever I put out now just wouldn't be in character. BUT. I'm still role-playing. Here: Hellboy and Here: Zane

If anyone wants to start something up on those accounts, feel free. Sorry for being a pain in the butt.

#OOC

'Oh, Hi' After Seven Months?

"Nothing, I just…" He waved his hand. "Nothing…" He knew Michael saw right through him, but there was an unspoken comfort that came with knowing that. It was like Michael knew what to do, be there, but don’t touch him, take him to the car, but not too fast, make him feel safe, but not smothered.

He climbed into the seat and drew one foot onto the seat so he could hold his knee to himself, his head resting against the window of the car. It took him a second longer than it should have to realize that Michael was handing him the cigarette.

"Thank you…" He breathed, tossing open the drawer between them and finding the lighter. His fingers shook as he skimmed his thumb along the metal wheel, moot clicks followed by several sparks before he got a flame. Inhaling the first of the drags slowly, he rested the roll up in his trembling hand and closed his eyes, the heel of his hand pressed to the bridge of his nose. "Maybe there’s a Denny’s around here or something…"

He was far from hungry, but for Michael, he’d eat something.

"There's a subway just around the corner." Michael said as he started up the car. Hopefully with some warm air and a little nicotine in his system the teen would start to feel better, right now though, he looked like shit, pale and clammy with a couple of stress lines that Michael was sure hadn't been there 7 months ago. Vampires sucked the life out of you whether you wanted it or not, the fact that they were doing it under the pretence of being good made his skin crawl.

The engine settled into a low rumble as he pulled into a drive through and rolled down his window. He leaned out and spoke into the microphone, keeping it short and to the point. "Two foot longs, steak n' cheese." He requested, his tired eyes flicking over a couple of posters that were painted upside the building, "and two coke's."

#thegutterwelcomesyou

#THAT is awesome.#Man I've got talented partners

Visit Original Link

Enjoy a fun treat! It was recorded on my phone so its not great quality, but I couldn’t get it out of my head.

So enjoy hearing the mun sing!

dismantledxsoul because this song makes me think of Tehra and Michael

((Also if I sound terrible be nice lol))

Vampire *evil grin*

Only one thing for it.

Luke went to place a hand on the man’s shoulder, but he avoided doing so once he started pacing. Contact wasn’t wise when one was dealing with such an intense thirst and rage. He knew that very well from his early days as a fledgling. “I know you wouldn’t hurt her, Michael. It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s what happens if the witch gets tired of waiting.”

Tehra, on her own on the couch, could hear most of the words that passed between the two. She nearly had to sit on her hands to force herself not to get up and go over to Michael. It killed her seeing him like this. But Luke knew what he was doing, and helping Michael would me that much harder if Tehra was standing right in the middle of it. Luke could handle any lashing out that cravings might cause in Michael; Tehra’s body wasn’t made for it. And so she waited, concerned eyes watching them both as Michael paced.

"Well, there’s a few ways that I know of. Beheading works. Fire. And blessed bullets. I’m going to vote on blessed bullets as being the easiest. You just need to get a gun and have the bullets either blessed by a priest or dip them in holy water. Then just fire them at her like you’d fire a gun at anyone else, it should do the trick. And I’ll help you two, I’m involved now, there’s no point staying out of it." Luke assented.

It was then that Luke noticed Michael’s attention had wavered. “Oh no, Michael, stop.” His voice was calm. When the man looked back at him, Luke saw the very familiar blackness of hunger in his eyes. He placed a cold hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You need to focus on something else. We have some blood packets in the car for you, from my supply. Calm down, and Tehra will go get them for-” His words were cut off by the sound of a sickeningly sweet female voice.

Luke was going to make a grab for the woman, to pin her down somewhere and interrogate her, but as he stakes hovering above their hearts, he couldn’t help but freeze. If he moved, it would enter his chest and that would be the end of the old vampire. His mind raced to figure out something clever to say to distract the witch while he tried to move. It was in that moment that two of Tehra’s knives flew through the air at lightning speed, one hitting each stake. As the knives made contact with the stakes, they knocked them to the ground. The kitchen floor was soon littered with the weapons, and Luke scrambled to grab all of them before the witch could grab them. "I have had about enough of you and your games!" Tehra snarled, standing up from her seat at the couch as she approached the witch, each hand holding a blade. "He doesn’t want you, don’t you understand? It would be much easier for you to find someone else, I’m sure you can. Leave my partner out of it.” The huntress growled, now only a couple of feet from the woman. “And if you decide not to listen to me? I will kill you with my bare hands if I have to.”

#theimpossiblegirlrps #Ohhh dammmnnnn

Bella waved her hand, blasting a wave of telekinetic force in the huntresses direction; aiming to pin her up against the wall behind. Satisfied, her pale lips curled into a cruel smile, green eyes twinkling with mischief as they clapped on Michael; her tall, Irish prey. "Hello sweetie, had a nice feed have we?"

Michael charged, but was wrenched backwards with the same telekinetic power that sent him crashing up against a kitchen counter where he remained trapped. "Bitch!" He swore, eyes black and fangs descended. "You touch one hair on her head an' I'll kill you y'hear me?!" Anger and adrenaline flooded his system, sharpening his senses until even the dull lamp across the room was stinging his eyes. Bella noticed, and with a swish of her hand, the bulb exploded, shrouding them in darkness.

"Oh honey, don't be that way," she cooed, shooting Tehra a victorious, and territorial look as her heels sashayed across the room, putting herself and Michael centimeters apart, "You know. You're very attractive when you're angry", she purred. He lunged forward, muscles bulging against the invisible binds, trying with all his might to snap at the Wiccas' throat.

§ ((Im so annoying sorrynotsorry lol. But she's a hunter, its too perfect))

((You’re not annoying, I love prompts!))

"Makes sense. With the car in Sheffield and the keys in the river, our trail will be hard to find. And thank god for that, lord knows we both need a new life." Tehra cast her eyes to him, a smile on her lips. She wasn’t fully excited, but she was certainly starting to relax as the miles passed them by. Each mile away was a mile closer to something better.

His question after they pulled into the service station did manage to catch her by surprise. She’d been so concerned about him that she’d hardly taken the time to really take inventory of her own well-being. Looking over to him, the first sound from her mouth was a long drawn out sigh. "I’m alright, you know. I’ll be okay. It was just… it is a lot to take in. These people were my family, my life had been saved on countless occasions by them. The fact that they could become so cruel, so fast- it’s something I still can’t reconcile. I don’t know what they did to you in there while we were separated, but I can tell you they were no kinder to me. ‘Re-training’, they called it. They tried to cut the sympathy out of me- figuratively and literally." Her voice was soft. She hadn’t told Michael these things, it would have been selfish to.

"I won’t go into details right now, but it was a huge betrayal, and I hope they all burn and rot. They deserve nothing better." The way she spoke was very matter-of-fact. They had succeeded in cutting the sympathy out of her, just not the sympathy they’d wanted gone.

"Anyways, that’s the past, and it should stay there. We’re here now. Together." Her words were soft as her hand moved to his cheek "And thank god for that." She held his gaze intently, her face a breath’s distance away as she memorized the kind gaze of the man who had saved her life on countless occasions.

#Sarnie means sandwich :)#theimpossiblegirlrps

A faraway look sank into his eyes. He'd done his best to forget what had happened during their separation, locked down and padlocked those memories away in order to deal with the situation at hand. Back at the guild they'd tortured him with no sign of remorse, every day for a week they would come in with their weapons drawn and hack away at his skin, debride him until the Irishman succumbed to pain induced unconsciousness. Calmly his hand cupped her cheek, thumb running over the soft skin there until his mind slugged back to the here and now.

"Yer right, none'a that matters now. What matters is that I get you a decent sarnie an' some chips." Breaking into a smile, he turned and opened the caravan door. "Oh," he said, pausing before hopping out into the parking lot, "We need a new lock too. Had to go to extremes' to get t'e bloody door open."

||Murder he wrote||

Karian managed to turn just slightly at the very last second, and Michael’s kick landed just below his left hip, hard enough to hurt, but he knew it could have been worse. The brief moment of pain stirred his anger a bit more, and he caught the scent of blood as his nails raked across skin when the shifter pulled out of his grasp.

It was Michael’s parting words that finally cut through the red haze, and Karian blinked once as he took a long look at his face, as long as he could before the other stormed out. Karian knew that kind of pain. He’d felt it himself many times over the years, and he still recalled the morning when Rin found him outside on the balcony too close to sunrise. It had been the tenth anniversary of the night Karian had killed Dravias, who had been the only one who had ever been close to him when he was human.

“Fuck,” he muttered, yanking the door open and following, silent footsteps quickening as Michael neared the car. Angie’s voice went ignored by him as well, although he didn’t replicate the shifter’s gesture, and he darted forward to block his path.

“Wait.” His voice was firm, and he squared his shoulders, bracing himself just in case Michael tried to knock him over instead of stopping. He spoke quickly, though, all traces of mocking sarcasm absent, his expression open and honest for a rare handful of minutes.

“I know you’re going to tell me that I’ve never been through this and I wouldn’t understand, but I have and I do. I came close to ending myself more than once, and it took someone else to talk some sense into me. If you’re dead set on throwing yourself off a cliff, then go ahead, but stop and think for a moment. Would he have wanted that? Would your death bring him back? I couldn’t – and still can’t – do anything to bring back Dravias, nor will my destruction restore him to life. So, think long and hard, and use your brain instead of your emotions to answer those two questions.”

He folded his arms over his chest, almost regretting bringing up his own past mistakes, especially to Michael, whom he knew he couldn’t fully trust. If it would help bring the shifter back to his senses, though, then Karian could justify the momentary indiscretion.

Deep, ragged breaths tore out through his nose in quick pants. The urge to swing at Karian for blocking his way was strong, by some miracle he managed to hold back though, choosing to listen instead. As the other spoke with surprising honesty, three oozing scratches that'd torn across his forearm during their scuffle began to heal, knitting back together and then fading into raised scars.

"We're not the same person Karian, yeh can live with killin' folk. Even if it's someone yeh loved, me? I can't do that. Sam might not want me dead, but his family does... his family Karian, I took that kid away from them... no parent should have'ta bury t'eir own god damn son." Watering eyes looked down and met the vampires'. Why he was trying to help was beyond Michael, why he was even bothering brought deep wrinkles to the Irishmans' brow. Both thoughts were shaken away, no one gave a shit and he would be an idiot to think otherwise.

"I've made my choice, it's better fer everyone this way. I'm a coward," a bitter laugh cracked through the tears, "I've never been all that good at living, and now I'm just tired... There's nothin' else fer me Karian. This it it."

#silvertigertraveler

||Dead moral|| Closed||

Silver’s grip loosened on the tree as he regarded Michael, confusion clear in his expression again. Perhaps he’d been mistaken and seen another ghost where there wasn’t one, but he could have sworn that the man before him was the same one he’d met shortly after the turn of the last century.

It was impossible, he realized. Michael was dead, and this was just some equally annoying human who looked like him. Judging by the man’s attire – or rather, the lack of attire – Silver was sure that he wouldn’t last long. The other might think he could outrun the ghouls, but with nothing to protect him from the elements, there was no way that he would have much time left.

A thought occurred to him then; this human would be dead soon enough, and there was no reason why Silver couldn’t help him along the way by slaking his own thirst. A grin that held only a shred of sanity spread over his lips, growing wider as fangs lengthened. He arched a brow at the remark before he spoke again, amusement in his voice.

“Are you really? I think you should stick around for a little longer.” His muscles tensed as he prepared to spring, glowing eyes locked on his new prey, and he made no attempt to hide the growl that was rising from his chest.

Before he could make his move, however, the man with Michael’s face stripped off the only scrap of clothing he possessed, and Silver’s eyes widened as he watched the transformation. It was impossible. There was no logical reason that would explain how the shifter could be the same one that clung to the edge of Silver’s memory, but he could find no other way to explain the eagle perched across from him.

The voice in his head was different than the one that usually taunted him during his nights of solitude – this one was somehow much more real – and Silver stared at the bird for a moment before shaking off the momentary paralysis. He didn’t know exactly how this situation had come to pass, but he knew that letting Michael flee was absolutely not an option. As the shifter started to take flight, Silver leapt, grasping at tail feathers as a snarl twisted his features.

“It was Malice, wasn’t it?” he demanded. “That fucking wolf had some kind of potion to keep himself from ageing, and he shared it with you, didn’t he?”

#silvertigertraveler #Michael killed someone and fully transformed. S'why he hasn't aged.

A piercing squawk wailed from Michaels' lungs as Karians' fingers yanked mercilessly at his tail feathers. Eagles were strong but even his powerful wingspan was nothing compared to the vampires' lunatic strength. He was going to fall if this carried on, so in a split second decision the shifter lashed out, raking inch long talons across Silvers face until he was able to flap free.

Get off me yeh feckin' lune! He thought irately, hovering just out of reach from the tree, I didn't take any potion, I'm a shifter and apparently we don't age. Stopped when I was twenty somethin' Glossy eyes watched the vampires' every move, the Karian he knew wasn't there, and Michael expected he never would be. Something had pushed him over the edge- too far down for help to reach. Wait. He said after a second, wings still beating to keep him in flight

How did you know that I was older t'an I look. Hope was burning a hole ten metres wide in his gut, it was almost tempting to re-land. But trust and hope were two very different things, this was a man who'd tried to eat him two minutes ago, and no matter how lonely the Irishman had gotten, it still wasn't worth his life.

tinakris

shameonme23

sleeping beauty

Bout sums it up.

#roleplay #rp #relateable #open #trapped

'Oh, Hi' After Seven Months?

RJ let out a grunt when he was tugged up, and smiled at Michael. That nod was all he needed, and he was beginning to feel like their tension had dissolved.

Hands in his pockets, he walked alongside Michael again with a small, happy smirk, until he mentioned food. RJ stopped in his tracks his breathing becoming shallow for a moment, his hands clammy and cold, his eyes adopting a thousand-yard stare. It was so sudden the other would barely have time to notice as he completed a couple more steps and finished his sentence.

"NO." RJ snapped himself out of his trance with a shudder, fumbling to find an explanation as to why he was freaking out over the idea of getting a Big Mac. "I-… I- uh…" He swallowed. "I can’t eat there… I puked it up when I was a kid and now I can’t stand the smell." He lied, but not about the last part. He wanted to walk forward but his legs were rooted where they were, memories of sensations finding him again, making him feel everything as if it were happening. His breath and pulse quickened, and he closed his eyes, opening and closing his fists. He didn’t want this to happen, not now, not in front of Michael. "I’m sorry, I just…" He tried to breathe deeply but couldn’t keep the cool air in. Still, he attempted to walk forward anyway. "Just need a minute. Still feel kinda sick…"