Sounds of a bustling street could be heard from the other side accompanied by people talking to and over each other. Where ever the caller is phoning in from, it's not an ideal conversational spot. Or rather, too ideal.
"Oh vãi, this actually works? I thought you were.... Nevermind." The caller's voice is soft spoken, accented and laced with a bit of raspiness. They gulp.
"I guess I want to call to thank you? Believe or not, your show is the only other Kindred company I have.
I do share your sentiment with the taste thing. My taste is... quite... acquired. Once you've found something you like, other stuff just feel diluted, you know? I guess like the mortal youths like to say. It just hits.
Although, I do feel like to you I'd be pretty young. I was just... turned or uhh Embraced a few months ago... I think? Days seem to blur into one another when you're constantly hungry...."
"You have one paid minute remaining. Please deposit fifty cents to continue this call." A cold, robotic feminine voice warns either end of the call, followed by a series of beeps.
"Uhhh... Oh fuck, fuck where are my quarters???" The caller becomes frantics. Sounds of fabric shuffling soon take over.
Beep.
"Where is is!! Ugh, so sorry about.... I do have one thing to ask. I know your Malkavian family??"
Beep.
"...has some kind of like connection in your head. I have something, someone! Someone in my head that I don't want there?"
Beep.
"Is there any way I can, politely or not, tell them to fuck off? Thank you so....."
"Your paid minutes has exhausted. Thank you for using our services." The female voice returns, this time she's followed by a dial tone.
- @flight-or-bite
[ooc: your blog reminds me a lot of this cat, Charlotte, on Instagram. she's a tortoiseshell cat with her own hotline where she gives advice and such. of course she's no where as stylist as Leo.]
Well, first off, I sincerely hope you've got a radio sitting next to that payphone, fledgling, because it'd be awfully depressing if I answered all this after your minutes ran out and you never got to hear it. I'd basically be talking to myself.
Second of all, thank you for calling. I'm glad you found the station. It can be a lonely few months after the Embrace. Hell, it can be a lonely few decades. Hunger has a nasty habit of making every night blur together until you forget there are other people out there trying just as hard to make sense of it.
So I'm happy to be part of your evening.
Now.
The voice in your head.
The bad news is that you're asking the exact wrong person.
The good news is that I'm going to answer anyways!
See, I like the company in my head. Most of the time.
I've gotten rather fond of not being alone anymore. Sometimes the Cobweb's annoying. Sometimes it's insightful. Sometimes it'll spend twenty minutes arguing over whether pigeons are government employees. I've made peace with it. But that's my relationship with the voices. Yours sounds... different.
If it's someone you genuinely don't want rattling around upstairs... Have you tried just telling them to fuck off straight out?
If that doesn't work, there's always the old-fashioned approach. Try a lobotomy. I've seen Kindred shake off gunshots to the head like particularly inconvenient sneezes. Worst case scenario, you've got an interesting story for Elysium.
If we're talking practical experimentation...
You might ask around for someone versed in alchemy. Thin-bloods have a habit of making the impossible merely improbable. Or find some kine who's spectacularly high on something unpleasantly powerful and see what happens after a drink.
Then again, that's basically how I ended up permanently hearing the plumbing. So maybe don't take all of my scientific advice...
The real answer, fledgling, is that it really depends on what this thing is. A memory? A ghost? A curse? A particularly persistent psychic hitchhiker?
And, hey... if you're listening, I really hope you find more quarters. Whether I'm on the air or not, I'd like to hear how you're doing. Give me a call back sometime. Or stop by the station, I'm not terrible at hearing others thoughts, I might be able to eke something out of your mysterious tag-along. I'd even tell them to fuck off for you.
[ F ] Does your muse get frightened easily? Of what?
Yes. Unfortunately Wasp is very jumpy. With his past literally haunting him, he usually over exerts himself trying to be aware of his surroundings. But in turn, he creates even more blind spots. I'd imagine he absolutely hates using Blood Surge. In my head Blood Surge gives a boost to all of your senses and poor Wasp really doesn't need to be even more overwhelmed.
As a result, the list of things he's afraid of would be measured in meters... And at the top, our reigning champion is, of course, his Sire - Delaney. For the record, before their Final Death, Delaney wasn't as much of a menace. But after their consciousness entered Wasp's blood stream. They've been going by this "nothing left to lose" code of conduct.
[ R ] In what ways does your muse show restraint?
Most of Wasp urges come from his Hunger, since he often starve on a number of reasons. The biggest reason is his feeding style is Blood Leech aka he only feeds on other Kindred. Though he doesn't want to force anyone into being his target. It's risky but he does take odd jobs where he's paid in vitae. Or just scout for some Kindred that would think of him as easy prey than turn the table on them. In his head, that's just self defense.
Feeding on a mortal vessel leaves a "stain" on Wasp's aura. One look at his aura would leave a Kindred in shock. So really doesn't need the extra decorations. Of course, there will be days where Wasp gets desperate. But there is a group of mortals he would never hurt – the homeless, street people and the like. He would sooner let the Beast take over than feed on derelicts. He was once in their positions and honestly he's back there again. His empathy for them is all he's got left that he knew was his own.
[ U ] Who in your muse's life understands them the most?
Drum roll please....
✯ Delaney! ✯
Are we surprised? Considering they're a permanent resident of Wasp's brain now. Quite literally, living rent free in his head.
Either in Wasp's life or unlife, Delaney plays a major role. To say they were his life purpose would be an understatement.
ABC HEADCANON PROMPTS featuring a mix of silly and more serious character development questions.
send HEADCANON + send letters or spell something in the poster's inbox.
[ A ] Does your muse give good advice ? On what subjects ?
[ B ] What bores your muse ? What are they like when bored ?
[ C ] What colors does your muse like to wear ?
[ D ] Does your muse drive ? How are they behind the wheel ?
[ E ] What is one of your muse's embarrassing memories ?
[ F ] Does your muse get frightened easily ? Of what ?
[ G ] What is the best gift your muse has ever received ?
[ H ] What is your muse's home like ? Has it always been like that ?
[ I ] What inspires your muse ?
[ J ] Does your muse like to joke ? What is their sense of humor ?
[ K ] What was your muse's first kiss like ?
[ L ] What kind of music does your muse listen to ?
[ M ] What motivates your muse ?
[ N ] What does your muse take note of when meeting people ?
[ O ] Is your muse afraid of getting old ? How do they view aging ?
[ P ] Does your muse like poetry ?
[ Q ] Does your muse like the quiet ? Why or why not ?
[ R ] In what ways does your muse show restraint ?
[ S ] How does your muse take surprises ? Do they like surprising others ?
[ T ] Does you muse have any secret talents ?
[ U ] Who in your muse's life understands them the most ?
[ V ] What is your muse's dream vacation ?
[ W ] Does your muse drink water regularly ?
[ X ] Does your muse have an xbox ? Do they like to game ?
[ Y ] What does your muse yearn for ?
[ Z ] What would your muse be like in a zombie apocalypse ?
ooc note: the aftermath of the feed. another exploration piece, this time is between Wasp and their Sire. i'm actually pretty happy about this one. though Wasp's hunting methods may change in the future, i think Wasp and his Sire's dynamic would stay pretty much the same. i am a sucker for power imbalance and narrative haunting so do expect that in the future. oh yeah and an evil, evil, just straight up really awful Sire.
The fluorescent tube flickered overhead, sputtering like a dying engine. Cold water spouted harshly from the crusted faucet. Wasp cupped their palms under the stream then splash it over their face, washing away all the street grimes, the sweat and the guilt.
The taste of stolen vitae remained on their tongue, nauseatingly sweet. Wasp pushed their tongue over the wound inside their cheek. It was still bleeding. How funny was that. No matter if it was the vitae of a strange Kindred or the vitae of their own wounds, all they could taste was Delaney's.
Darkness overtook the bathroom for a split of a second. Flashed on the mirror wasn't his reflection but Delaney's sunken face, covered in blood. They were smiling ear to ear. Wasp took a big leap backwards. A cackle sounded off. One he was all too familiar with. The same one that'd been haunting him all these damned nights.
"A fucking Nossy, Dig?! You fed on a fucking Nossy? The enemies you're racking up. Fuck…" Delaney paused for a breath. "I don't blame you though… It was adorable watching you starve yourself to keep me away."
Wasp clenched their fist. The blood coursing through their veins returned the fake flush of life to their cheek. But along with it, the suffocating weight in the back of their skull grew unbearable. The Hunger never kept Delaney away, it only drowned them out. And now that Wasp was fed, they were loud and clear.
"Ungrateful." Delaney clicked their tongue, staring from the mirror through Wasp's own eyes. "It's my blood that keeps you alive or do you think you're too big now to acknowledge your dear Sire?"
"Shut up." Wasp winced, his palmed pressed to the side of his head as his Sire faked a dramatic gasp.
"Shut up? SHUT UP?!!" His reflection smirked. His eyes slowly melted into his Sire's dark, calculating gaze. "Why would I? This is my house."
And to think, just months ago, Wasp would want nothing else than to drown in those eyes. Guess he got what he wished for.
"This is your doing after all, Dig. From the moment you drank me dry you've laid the first brick to my altar behind those eyes. Look at yourself. So strong, so fast. Keep hunting for me, leech. All you're doing is help keep the engine warm."
CRRKT!
Wasp punched the mirror. Their chest rolled with weighted heaves. Untreated glass sliced into their skin, opening up blood flow. Delaney faded to but a whisper. Some mercy, Wasp let out a breath of relief, innocently. Ignorantly.
Meeting their eyes as Wasp looked up was a glass and silver web of cracks. Their panicked expression splattered across the jagged surface, pieces spilling over the crusty sink.
"How gaudy. Yet I'd never dare expect more from you."
"Shut! Up!" Wasp squeezed their eyes shut.
"Let's go to a mirror store, shall we? Let us have our little tantrum, yeah? Better yet, gauge your own eyes out. The glass isn't where I am, honey pot…"
"Shut up..."
"Matter a fact. I'm not even in your sweet little head. I'm in the blood. And tonight? You are potent."
A double Artfight attack on @cynical-tuba and @spell-fox of their characters, Hengist (Nosferatu) - Leo (Caitiff) - Godwin (Tzimisce)!!! My favorite trio!!! Blorbos from my friends!! :3 I hope I've drawn them justice!!
ooc note: something i did to explore Wasp's character, mostly how he'd hunt. i may or may not slayed too close to the sun and made Wasp into the enemy of Camarilla and most Anarch sects. so now it's extremely hard for him to feed. i also spent (checks watch) 4 hour too long on this without a break from blue light. so enjoy the word vomit.
cw: non-con feeding, kindred on kindred crime, beta reader? i hardly know her.
The neon lights beam across the sea of vessels dancing to loud, ear grating music. "The Finale" they call this club. How gaudy, Wasp thought, as if he had any rights to judge them. While the mortals were busy bumping bodies, screaming against the pounding beats of the surround sound system, Wasp huddled in a corner, his stomach twisted in an agony. The velvet bench only sink him in further as he pulled his jacket tight around his body. To the naked eye, he looked like a junkie coming down from a bad trip, shivering under the club's AC. He looked easy.
Their performance wasn't too far from reality, though. The Beast, or the Hunger, or whatever pompous fuck of a name those people gave it, was getting desperate. But it wasn't roaring. It was this whining thing, clawing inside Wasp, threating to rip them open along with all this teasing cattle. They sucked in a deep breath.
If they wanted some kine's blood they could have easily picked some off the streets. Even here, they could just take one to the last stall of the club's dingy bathroom and drain them like a juice bag.
Wasp's eyes seemed to weigh tonnes as he watched the movements on the raised dais. Watching him back was a tall frame, splayed across the velvet booth. Mortals sat on either of her sides, all glassy-eyed. One danced between her legs, taking off more clothes as they twisted in ways Wasp hadn't thought was possible.
Wasp forced their shoulder to shake. Their breath hitched on purpose, their head hanged low. They couldn't afford to let the sun rise on an empty stomach. Not again.
"Hey, sweetie? You're doing okay?" A voice cued Wasp to jump. His eyes went wide, full of practiced horror and awe. The other also stumbled backwards a little. Her eyes finally focused.
"Oh sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare ya… just…" She eyed Wasp up and down. Finally, she sat beside Wasp, wrapping an arm across his shoulder. "You don't look too great, sweets, all alone… Mother… ahem… The club's owner was getting worried you might need some help."
"I-I'm fine!!" Wasp's voice immediately cracked. "I'm just waiting for a f-friend… they're coming with the chaser.. woahh!"
Before he could finish his reason, the woman had grabbed him by the elbow, hauling him up the raised platform. "Yes, yes! We'll make sure your friend can find you. But!! It's just a little… pick-me-up! It'll get you right back on track!"
Jackpot.
As they let themself dragged across the dais, Wasp kept their gaze on the floor. With a full shove, Wasp landed right next to the commanding figure. Weight landed on their shoulder as the figure wrapped his arm around them. Acryclics nails cupped their chin, forcing Wasp to look at her. The lower half of her face was fully concealed behind a veil, but her eyes are grinning, sickeningly so.
"Aww, look guys. He's shy~!" Their mortal groupies ruptured into laughter all around him. "I'm just here to help so save me the tremor."
"I can't, you really don't have to… I'd make myself scarce if I'm disrupting your business…"
"B-b-bup! You're in Mother's turf. You're under Mother's care. Isn't that right, my hunnies?" A resounding "Yes, Mamaaaa" sounded off in response. "But gaushhh, everyday I see poor souls like you get off of those cheap kets and E and all that poison, it makes me sick… with empathy! I have this new strain, you could say. It totally wakes you up but you can still have fun~ How about it? It'd cost, yeah but you are a patron, I've seen you here a week straight~ Yes, I see you. I won't take any more than what you're carrying. What do you say?"
Laughters simmered down into knowing giggles. Wasp darted their eyes around, teeth gripping the insides of their mouth. Their nails digged so deep into their palm, blood started to dribble out. Mother's eyes twitched, something savage barely contained behind her gaze. Her grip tightened on Wasp's face.
"It's rude to leave a lady hanging, doll…" A low growl escaped with her words.
Wasp nodded, still avoiding direct eye contact. Immediately, his elbow got yanked on again. This time it was towards the back of the club.
"Wonderful!! Let's make your first time extra special, shall we?" Mother pushed him into one of the VIP rooms. She shut the heavy oak door, leaving behind the thudding waves of the club. Finally, some peace and quiet. She made a bee line for her latest prey. Her acrylics climbed across their chest, only to find it still under the fabric. So cold and unbeating. She had now realised the room was too quiet.
But it was too late.
With hard crunch of cartilage, a wooden stake has pierced through her decorated chest. Her towering framed hunched over the deeper the stake went. Wasp watched as she fell to the floor, stiff like a mannequin. Her mask gave way. Her cheeks, withered, akin to cured meat, stretched far below her neck. She was frozen during a silent blood curdling scream.
"I'm sorry." Wasp whispered. They never knew if their targets could actually hear them. After all, they were always on the right end of the stake. "I need to live too."
Wasp plunged his fangs into Mother's wrist. Her eyes went slack, letting him know the high of the Kiss had taken hold. He drank and drank until his hollowed veins burned with the warmth he stole. It took every ounce of power inside him to stop just short of a lethal drain.
In one swift move, Wasp teared himself away from the fellow Kindred. As he removes the stake, her body relaxed, heavy from the blood loss and the lingering euphoria. He winced at the sight of her. Unmasked and still, she looked more like a corpse than ever. But just for a moment. Once the ecstacy had faded, rage would take its place. Wasp couldn't afford to gamble further.
They cracked the door open, waiting for any unlucky vessel to walk by. And snatched! They forced the poor human mouth open and spit their venom down the victim's throat, rendering them immobile. Wasp shoved the vessel onto Mother's unresponsive body then make a quick scan of the room.
After making sure nothing was or would be recorded, they straightened their jacket, swiped the blood smear off their face and made his way out the backdoor into the cool night. They kept themself to shadow, struggling to keep away the well-fed pep in their steps.
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