indie OC RP - Gemini - the zombie twins
otherwise known as James and Jeffrey Todd
Mun 35 + minors DNI no exceptions
no underage characters
NSFW: sex + body horror
Dead Dove
Mun: 35+ they/them. Minimum 21+ to interact. 30+ to the front please!
(est 2016 - returning from 5yr hiatus)
Undead identical twins trapped in an endless echo of psychic connection. A little bit mad.
Muse:
Gemini
Or, James and Jeffrey Todd
Born 1909, died 1933 (physically 24)
Cis male
6ft tall (remarkable), thin
Ginger, brown eyes
Gemini's sexuality is fluid. Each twin has his preference
________
Tendency to rot, roll around in the dirt, fall in love, eat the rich, fuck monsters, burn it down, laugh it off, lick brains, leave scars, drink blood, chew and swallow, go broke, forget the world...
My OC is Gemini, they are the only muse I play here, though Gemini can exist in many forms, depending on our RP.
Sometimes Gemini is utterly inseparable, indistinguishable, and completely mad. Nobody told them not to drink each other's blood. Their existence is completely blended, two consciousnesses scrambled between two bodies, sharing all thought, emotion, and sensation. They think of themself as one being with four hands and two mouths. They are indescribably lonely, yet complete. They yearn for ruin.
Or they may be more individual, at least individual enough to revel in their strangeness and fall constantly in love with their co-morbidity; individual enough to collaborate, to whisper a word or two in the dark, to grin at their reflection, to press eyeballs together, and share their binding blood with love. This is often the easiest and most accessible form of Gemini to interact with.
In other cases they may be completely separated, exploring a regression of their connection, striving to live as individuals across the world from one another: there is no pain sweeter than missing someone you love. Carve out a space for yourself in their broken heart while they swap body parts through the mail.
This blog will always feature kink and taboo. The muses are rarely safe or sane even if they can be nice. Mun =/= muse.
ALL writing partners must be at least 21+ No exceptions. 30+ preferred.
All fandom characters and OCs must be 18+ physically and mentally. No non-canonical /AU age-ups. (No Claudias please and I'm very sorry Armand...)
This blog is multiship and not always linear! One thread doesn't necessarily follow all current story lines.
Likewise, I am often not very well aware of what's going on outside our threads. I might not read what you write with others!
As an OC writer I am very happy to interact with fandoms and alt history. Keep in mind that Gemini is their own brand of undead, something between zombie and vampire, and will not conform to the rules of traditional lore. (Details linked below)
Eager for plots / tropes / themes:
- "YOU'RE trapped in here with ME."
- Discomfort as the norm (hunger/poverty)
- Long-term immortal relationships which don't involve being near each other constantly, or actively interacting, especially enemies. After 10 years Gemini hears that you're back in their territory so they go fuck with you. Must have been real fuckin important to bring you back...or maybe you just want to stir the pot?
- Deep time SciFi where zombies/vampires etc exists as rare ghosts of a predominantly extinct human species
- Local cryptid
- Recruiting monsters to hunt monsters
- Medical horror (experimentation, limit-testing, twin-study)
Simon presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to taste any remnants of their meal. As if it might help him pick out the discrepancies that clearly Jeffrey can taste. "Everyone is distinct enough to my palate, but I don't think I can taste such subtle differences. But my nose is not quite up to snuff, even among my species. I think it's the paint, all the chemicals have deadened that sense over the years."
A small price to pay, as he didn't often indulge in hunting. Besides, bad blood was near impossible to find. Any living person could provide what was needed, "I assume it's the electricity still sparking in the brain. Just a guess. You gave me quite a tasty morsel from the brain tonight. Thank you."
Then, he cannot help a laugh at Jeff's disbelief, a touch too loud in the confines of the car, "I've gotten very used to drinking blood as a civilized man. Still, there is no replacement, nothing else that is like drinking straight from a vein. The pull, the need to finish it all. It's why we have to be careful. Tonight I was too in my head, almost nervous for what was about to come after the draining, so no swoon. But generally, yes, there is a sensuousness to the act that cannot be denied. I've wondered if our saliva contains some concoction that makes those we feed from feel good, even as they're dying."
It would make them more effective predators, if their victims weren't screaming in their final moments. In the moment Simon had worried he had taken too much blood from the human, but told that it might have helped calm things has him smiling. At a red light he can risk looking over Jeff as he's called a 'good boyfriend'. Simon's knuckles brush against his cheek lightly, clear of blood, but could do with some soap.
As he knows he could as well. "Next time, we meet in the middle. We'll find an equilibrium." Hands back on the wheel, the streets begin to look familiar, wondering if Jeff knows where they are now.
"I just... don't cry. It's not a natural response for me. That could be from years of not allowing myself to feel overwhelmed. You're more than welcome to cry as often as needed." He takes a few breaths before continuing, the idea that Jeff would rather be buried a lot to take in. "Those turned can feel separate from the living. Hopefully you'll hit it off with one of my turned vampire friends, have someone who understands what you mean more than I can. I've never felt human, but I also never felt not like a person."
He cannot help the grimace at Jeffrey having to force up his waste product. "Your body wouldn't want to expel it, naturally? Now that I think about my own body, because I at least consume blood every night I'm not entirely sure how long it takes. I had more meat tonight than I tend to consume, so I'll know eventually."
There's only street parking near his house, but at least he manages one somewhat nearby, and not down another block. He doesn't move to get out of the car now that they're home, just looking at Jeff, as if he wasn't going to spend the night, as if this might be good night. "Your hair grows long. Can you grow facial hair? Do you have to shave? I probably have a spare razor if... think we should test if we can fit in my bath slash shower together?"
"I like to share," I tell him simply as he thanks me for what we both ate tonight, as if it wasn't his kill to share in the first place. "I guess I'm used to it, even during the hunt." It's a blip of a thought, how it's always been natural to feed two mouths, to make sure the Other predator with me is at least as fed as I am. But I don't want to think about Jamie when I'm here with Simon.
"Do you think electricity tastes like life?" I migrate to new and exciting ideas instead of my ancient loneliness. His laugh is infectious, making me blush with delight. God he's handsome, especially when he laughs, and his laugh at my poke about his good manners comes as a wonderful relief. He describes his pleasure in the kill and that too is a relief, his nervousness completely understandable.
"Well I was nervous too, but I think we did alright, compromises and discomforts and met limits aside. I think we did really well, actually. But you make me wonder...I wonder if there's lingering energy through the body that my kind can sense. The electricity. Could you? Sense the difference when it's fresh like that? Even with your paint-thinned sense of smell?" I grin for him. "I heard what you said earlier, how you want me to sit for you in your studio..."
I did hear him. He wants me to be seen, he wants to show me that he sees me. The drawing he did for me that night I left so abruptly quickly became a prized possession. There isn't much of the physical world I've found to be worth keeping. I wonder if I'll be holding on to that sheaf of paper, however crumpled or folded it might become, long after we've parted ways.
I don't want to think about parting ways. I don't want to part ways at all.
"I'd like that," I finally finish the thought. "Maybe I can't offer a mirror the way you do for your subjects with your art, but I want to see you work. I want to watch you paint. If I can sit in on how you see the world, to be a part of that with you, well...I'd like that."
I take his gentle touch, feeling the calm of his company and knowing too that we're near our final resting place for the evening. It will be good to lay down finally, to rest, to think of nothing, and to be close to someone safe. "Maybe I'm a hedonist deep down," I crack a grin at him. "Crying feels good, laying in the dirt feels good. I well...have a weakness for pleasure, I think," the laugh comes out half nervous thinking about blood I'm not supposed to drink and bodies I'm not supposed to want. I can't seem to help myself. "...I wouldn't be surprised if you're right about your chemical advantage. It would make sense, wouldn't it? Maybe that's why your kiss is so damned good too...or maybe you're just good, and that's all there is to it..."
Finally parked close to home, to his home, I relax in the seat for this final moment of decompression, this transition between the hunt and back to electric lights and smooth clean floors and refrigeration and hot running water.
"Thank you, Simon, for tonight. I think I was pretty polite, pretty well behaved all things considering but...thank you still for being willing to show me where we compliment, even if we don't match. You're a skilled hunter, really. That kill was flawless, and how you could possibly eat a heart and a brain and not get any gore under your nails is a feat worth applauding," I grin, teasing only slightly. Leaning against the rental's seat and looking at him, I want very much to be in that shower, not even to get clean but just for the pleasure of the water, for a little closeness with him if that's what he's offering. "God, if we could fit in my shower we can fit in yours," with half a laugh.
"I shave. Not often. All my hair grows very slowly...that mop you met me with, not even shoulder length, was a good seven years or so. Maybe longer." I brush my chin with the back of my hand, then his. "It might speed up now that I'm about as fit as I can be. Which is another reason why my digestion for meat is so slow. My body just doesn't need it, and I'll be craving blood before my body digests the meat. I'll give it an honest attempt, but I won't let it rot in there. I might have to play vampire for a while until the urge strikes again."
"You know..." I sigh, content, ready to go inside. "...even though it wasn't so much, I think your blood last night really made a difference. Vampire blood...it's powerful stuff. You made me cry, I think," I wink, "in the very best way."
01. avoids eye contact or looking at the floor.
02. wringing hands together in silence.
03. fidgeting with the hem of their shirt, unable to stay still.
04. looking at receiver in long silence before looking away.
05. silently leaves a folded note on the table in front of the other.
06. touches the others arm but pulls back out of guilt.
𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 -
01. slams fist onto a table without saying a word.
02. exhaling sharply through their nose and clenching their jaw.
03. throws an object across the room.
04. crossing their arms tightly, digging fingers into their own skin.
05. pacing the room with heavy steps.
06. glares at the other with a clenched fist.
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 -
01. gently pushing stray hair behind the others ear.
02. resting their forehead against the others.
03. cups the others face with both hands.
04. pressing a kiss to the others forehead in silence.
05. lingering touches against the others face.
06. wraps their arms around the other from behind and rests their head on the others shoulder.
𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 -
01. wiping their eyes before someone can notice.
02. pressing their face into a pillow to muffle sobs.
03. pulls the other into a desperate hug and wont let go.
04. silently reaching for the others hand, needing comfort.
05. walks into the room with red-rimmed eyes and no words.
𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 -
01. spins the other around without warning in a hug.
02. links arms with the other and tugs them along happily.
03. provides the other with a handmade gift.
04. tackles the other in a sudden and joyful hug.
05. kisses the others cheek unexpectedly and grins.
𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 -
01. backing away slowly and looking for exits.
02. hiding behind the other and peeking around.
03. flinches at sudden movement from the other.
04. presses their back against the wall with eyes darting around the room.
05. jumps at a noise and instinctively grabs the others hand.
𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠
01. tucks a blanket gently around the other person's shoulders.
02. applies a bandage with slow and deliberate care.
03. brings them food and water and watches to ensure they eat.
04. runs fingers through their hair in efforts to soothe.
05. rubs soothing circles on the others back while they cry.
06. stays silently by the others side in support without saying a word.
𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠
01. raises a hand but hesitates.
02. grips the others arm a bit too tightly.
03. pushes the other away with more force than necessary.
04. turns their back on the other to begin walking away without a word.
05. rips a shared photo in half without a word.
06. steps in closely with cold and narrowed eyes.
"Do you have a favorite piece? Humans talk about preferring certain vegetables over others, it only stands to reason that we also can have certain preferences." Stuck behind a large truck, he could switch lanes and get them a few cars ahead, but he stays in this lane. If only to let this easy conversation stretch on a little longer.
With his hand held, and in stop and go traffic, Simon leans back. He's still alert, but the risk was far less now that they had no where to go beside inching up every few seconds. "Hey, I'd absolutely use an IV straw if it was less mess. Call it whatever you like when we go out again."
Able to look over to Jeff, his smile is coy, but he softens at the mention of tears. "I noticed them. Were you overwhelmed? You didn't begin sobbing so I assumed nothing was overly wrong. There is a catharsis to tears, but don't expect that I'll join you even if it is Bambi. I think I've had my fill of my tears for the next decade."
Brake lights ease up and he advances several more feet forward. Jeff's mention of washing dishes has him chuckling, taken back to that first night when that domesticity felt so natural. "Aren't we real people? The world sustains us, and it must endorse us or it would find a way to eradicate us all."
Perhaps that is not what Jeffrey meant, and he was being obtuse. With a kiss to his hand he wonders if he can make it all the way home with only one hand on the steering wheel.
"You're right, it's not a competition. And you're my boyfriend, audience or not." It's Simon's turn to lift Jeff's held hand up to his lips, a soft, lingering kiss before he has to reclaim his hand. Taking an exit, they're out of traffic, on local streets with stoplights instead.
"How long until you need to hawk up the white stuff? Takes my body twelve to twenty-four hours to digest properly."
"A favourite? A healthy liver--a female liver--ranks pretty high. I dunno if you can taste that...maleness sometimes with men? It's like boar taint--I don't hate it, but it is distinct. But..." I can barely contain my scoff, weirdly almost embarrassed though I don't know why, "listen, we have a reputation for a reason. When the brain is fresh...sometimes even still alive even after the heart stops? Oh my god, there's nothing like it. You know. You like it too, right?"
I roll my eyes at him, playful, though I don't quite believe he'd really prefer to use a straw. I can't imagine it, I really can't. "You're telling me you'd rather suck plastic than put your lips to human flesh? Come on Simon, I know you're a civilized man but..." I stop myself from berating him, from teasing too much. "You met me at my comfort level tonight. I will meet you at yours next time." I give him a pointed look, matching his tone at that before it shifts again to something a little lighter, a little more inquisitive.
"But...you gotta tell me though...what is it like for you? Was it...good? The drinking? And before you go on about me thinking you've never hunted or that you're so domesticated or something, I just...I mean...you get to experience something so different with them from what I know. Like, he held you to him, he sighed...like I sigh when you drink from me. I've never felt that with someone I'm feeding from...maybe Jamie. Maybe Gemini. But...that's different too. People fight me for their lives when I do it...every time. Do you...do you swoon with them?"
I'm given my hand back after a gentle kiss and I pick my short, half-bitten nails. "It is overwhelming, generally speaking. It's a lot. Tonight felt more calm than it usually does, I think because you bled the fight out of him. But...really, honestly, that you cleaned my face like that was..." I smile at my own hands and glance to him again. "Yeah, that was nice, Simon. That was...real good boyfriend shit right there."
To learn that he doesn't want to cry again, never mind that he doesn't want to cry in front of me, makes me ache a little for him. I'm not hurt that he wants to hide from me--I understand that reflex well enough--but I hurt even for his own self. Hell, I'll probably bawl my eyes out every night for the next little while just because I can and fall into a natural, deep sleep well before the sunrise. I feel about as pleased about the idea as I am when my body gets healthy enough to masturbate. That release is unlike anything else.
"You don't like to cry? Crying makes me feel like a real person. More than sex does if I'm being honest. All those little things add up to being able to relate to people, you know? Maybe you're already people," I give him another little smile, "you're people for sure. People don't question if they're people. Sometimes I wonder though. Sometimes I feel human, but not like a person...not to say I think I don't belong in the world, it's just...well, maybe that's just the grave talking."
His practical question receives a smirk and a shrug. "I dunno honestly. You're a little faster than a living human then? For me it'll be sometime tomorrow night probably. It'll be faster if I don't drink any more blood between now and then but...my body isn't exactly in a rush to metabolize anything. What is it now...really early Monday morning? We'll wake up again on Monday night? If it's not up by Tuesday night I'll drink water and force it up. I don't like to let it sit too long, it just gets...gross."
I'm going to fix everything in the next three hours everyone wish me luck. if i dont then probably ill dig a hole and lie down in it for a bit in the rain/sun/whatever outside looks like these days
The closer they get to home, the more Jeffrey seems to come back to himself. Not that he had become so unlike himself that Simon had been worried. But the further away from the body, from the feed, the more he sounds like the man he knows.
If only because he is speaking more than he was minutes before. "If I am uncomfortable, I will mention it. After, even if not in the moment. Thigh is my favorite meat, but I could not handle carving it out tonight. You understood my silence." Trust worked both ways, and Simon did trust Jeffrey.
The touch to his arm only has him glancing down, for a moment. His eyes dare to look at Jeff, counting the seconds, before returning to the road, a smile still on his face.
"I am happy, with you. More so than I have been in quite some time. And I am also glad I was with you tonight. Next time, would you mind using the knife for all of it?" That wouldn't be natural, of course, but he wouldn't mind a next time. So long as it was spaced out, a rare occurrence.
Talk of home, of the life he has built there has him grinning, "I want to show you off. Most the people you met that night Rose brought you won't be there. This party is only for those that are close. There is a born vampire doctor, a few other vampires of various origins. None like you, but a witch, a were-tiger. They're all open to invite those they wish, so it should be a fairly large gathering. No humans, is my only rule. You can always escape up to the bedroom if it's too much. If I'm occupied, and you don't want to leave yet, stick close to the doctor. She will probably ask too many invasive questions about what you are, but only out of pure curiosity."
Veering off of one highway to another, Simon offers his hand to Jeff as traffic increases, closer to the city and yet still a ways to go. "I think we match. Not as perfectly as twins, but good enough. No couple is ever equally yoked. I am sure you'll find something about me you can't stomach, it's only a matter of time."
"It's good meat," I offer with a smile, meeting his fleeting gaze, smiling long after his eyes return to the road. Everything about this is peaceful, from the quiet of the car to his persistent calm, here in the cabin with the night and the glowing red and white lights swerving their slow dance around us. Real life is made up of these little moments, and I can imagine returning to this memory in some distant future and feeling happiness. I feel more like the living person I'm trying to be the farther we get from that lonely grave. "You mentioned the femoral artery the first time you drank me. Worth a guess that you might like the meat too. But I know a limit when I see one."
His request to use the knife is characteristic, but I laugh anyway. "It's totally absurd to use a knife! It's like asking you to use an IV straw instead of those beautiful teeth of yours," I grin at him, but I squeeze his hand as well, softening. I wish I could kiss him. I wish my nails were cleaner so I could pretend to fix a strand of his hair just to have an excuse to touch it.
"But...if we hunt again I can use a knife and be a good, clean butcher about it. We can take it home, carve it up nice, make something pretty. But I reserve the right to call it something other than a proper feed though--we can both compromise. I'm healthy enough now that I don't need to do it that way anyway--did you see I cried real tears?" I squeeze his hand again, feeling a little brighter as I remember it. "God it felt good! We should watch something sad and just wail together. What's a good one? Quest for Fire? Into the Wild? I dunno...Bambi?"
His grin has my full stomach filling with butterflies. He lists off his friends and I wonder how close he really is to these people if I haven't heard much of them until now. Still, this smile of his as he talks about introducing me to them can't be anything but genuine, and it's a comfortable spot for me to anticipate some mutual curiosity. "A were-tiger! And a vampire doctor? How interesting. I mean...I don't mind questions, especially when they come from interesting people and I would honestly probably rather die than retreat at your party," I scoff, but I know he's just being thoughtful. "Though I'll join you in your bedroom after...I'll even help with the dishes and everything. We can be domestic and civilized like real people."
As he gentles into a reassuring tone about how we might match more than I think, I find myself smiling at our clasped hands. He's so warm, he always is. I bring those bent fingers up and kiss them. Even though we washed they smell of dirt and lightly of blood, though he really didn't get much of that on him.
"I think we fit nicely," I agree, "maybe we don't match, but we compliment. Don't you think? I don't want to play contests of who can handle more disturbance--it shouldn't be like that." If Simon knew even half the shit I've done--half the shit with Nic, with Jamie, for Alexander...not to mention all the vampires we've eaten--I shudder to how he might react. If he's content with the way things are; if this is a romantic fling of a relationship he's already prepared to give up, then he doesn't need to know those things. Like I told Rose, this can just be nice.
"I'm looking forward to the party," it feels weird to admit. "I get to be your boyfriend, for real, in front of real people and everything? That's like, genuine romance."
I watch him drive. I watch his careful, attentive face, his quick glances. He drives fast and he's good at it. Modern man, modern car, modern vampire.
I feel suddenly very young and very old at the same time. I feel naive and weary.
"But it was lovely," I say softly, "to hold you then. Even though you were in pain. Why would I berate you for that? You were so very...sweet."
I watch the road pass, the cars, the trees. I wish I could see the stars but I can't with the light pollution. That's what would have made tonight better: more stars. I don't want to think about how weird that night was, how hurtful it was that he couldn't stomach to lay next to me, forcing me to take that big bed alone. I was humiliated then, but I know he had tried to be kind and tactful about his limits. Like tonight.
He could stomach more of me tonight, I guess, and that ought to count for something.
I sigh. "We're both very polite to each other, you know? I wanted you to fuck me in that grave--no, I wanted to make love in it," I smile, almost grin at that, at myself, at this weird dreamy mood. I laugh quietly to myself, just a chuckle. "You're good at it, making it feel lovely? You really are. You're very present, very attentive, very patient and good...but it's not just about the sex. Every conversation, every stroll, every evening on the couch...patient and attentive. I told you that I want someone to want me as I am, imperfect. I guess you do. You do exactly that. Imperfect...temporarily...lovely. Mmm."
"You've never asked me for anything at all. What do you want?"
Only road noises settle into the car as Simon feels unable to answer the question. The soft doppler effect as he passes a truck. He cracks his window just for fresh air, and it brings the rush of wind that matches the speed of the car. Loud in his ear, wiping away any thoughts. But he cannot drive with so much noise, not with over an hour to go. The window must be closed, and with it, the thoughts return.
He glances in the rearview mirror as if he can see the grave they dug together from this distance. That Jeff wanted to have sex there is beyond him, more than he would have been able to take. For the best that he's only bringing it up now. He isn't against getting dirty, but not with the dead man they shared in eating just above them.
But is he making concessions, far too easily acquiescing to all of Jeff's whims? No, he wants to please, wants to give all any lover of his wants, deserves, and then some. Jeffrey is easy to please, easy for him to be attentive and patient because that is what he wants to do.
Does he think Simon is putting this on as a front? His hand scratches at his forehead, annoyed with himself that he can't quite find the words to convey what he wants to say. Returning his hands to the steering wheel, holding it properly, he sighs, eyes on the road.
"That's not my way. I've had others break up with me because I'm so closed off. Or, I appeared so to them. I want you. We have each other now. Am I supposed to want more? I want you to sit for me one night, at my studio. I want my friends to know I'm taken, that we're together and happy. At least I think we are. I don't.. what do you want me to ask for, Jeffrey? I wanted you in my life, and I have that now. I'm content. More than satisfied."
"Mmm..." Gazing out the window, speaking quietly, thoughts feel just a little less fuzzy now as we converse so calmly.
"I don't know if I'd say you're closed off. I can't tell what you're thinking sometimes...but, that's normal." I smile at that. "I kind of like it--I don't need to know, I just need to trust. That's how it goes with people, isn't it? I guess I worry sometimes that when you're unexpectedly calm you're just...grinning and bearing something uncomfortable. But...well, maybe that's normal too. To some extent anyway, I don't know. I just know I'm happy with you. You make me happy. You make me calm. If you're happy just existing with me for a while then I guess I can't ask anything more of you."
In a very weird way it reminds me of Jamie. We exist together. Simon doesn't fetishize me, doesn't want to kill me, doesn't want to watch me kill, doesn't want to maim or torture me. Maybe I don't know what he wants from me without the demand of some niche desire. Maybe I've never really had anyone else to just spend time with.
I look at him again. "I'm glad you were there tonight, even if it's just to know for certain that you don't want to do it again. For what it's worth, I like that you have limits. I like that we don't match."
With my thumb I wipe a stray smudge of dirt from the back of his arm, careful not to distract his driving.
"You really want me to meet your friends? I guess I will at this party of yours. Tell me about them."
There's a level of attention he must pay to the road, even though it is past midnight and there are far less cars than just a few hours before. It still does not mean the highway is empty, gripping the steering wheel with intermittent flashes of strength as Jeffrey asks question after question.
The streetlights throw their shadows across their bodies at this speed. Simon risks glances to Jeff, looking almost high with how he leans back, the shifting highlights and lowlights dance over his copper hair, his still angular features no matter how much he's fed. It's a shame he can't reach over and kiss him now, but he would not risk them. Though Simon is the fragile one between them.
It is a few minutes before he answers, weaving them between slow cars. He's still careful with his driving. It's not his fault that others don't want to drive as fast as he's going.
"I find you fascinating. Besides, have you forgotten how good you are to me? Taking care of me, consoling me, not berating me for falling apart. This isn't enduring for me, Jeff. I give and you give. Some nights you need more, and I am capable of holding back my bile for you. Because I want to."
He lifts one shoulder, a half shrug, changing lanes again. "If I lose you to Gemini, I'll be in the same place I was before. Alone. It's not the worst place to be. Easy enough when it's near impossible to share what I do with just anyone. For now, I want you. I want all of you. Is that so hard for you to believe?"
I watch him drive. I watch his careful, attentive face, his quick glances. He drives fast and he's good at it. Modern man, modern car, modern vampire.
I feel suddenly very young and very old at the same time. I feel naive and weary.
"But it was lovely," I say softly, "to hold you then. Even though you were in pain. Why would I berate you for that? You were so very...sweet."
I watch the road pass, the cars, the trees. I wish I could see the stars but I can't with the light pollution. That's what would have made tonight better: more stars. I don't want to think about how weird that night was, how hurtful it was that he couldn't stomach to lay next to me, forcing me to take that big bed alone. I was humiliated then, but I know he had tried to be kind and tactful about his limits. Like tonight.
He could stomach more of me tonight, I guess, and that ought to count for something.
I sigh. "We're both very polite to each other, you know? I wanted you to fuck me in that grave--no, I wanted to make love in it," I smile, almost grin at that, at myself, at this weird dreamy mood. I laugh quietly to myself, just a chuckle. "You're good at it, making it feel lovely? You really are. You're very present, very attentive, very patient and good...but it's not just about the sex. Every conversation, every stroll, every evening on the couch...patient and attentive. I told you that I want someone to want me as I am, imperfect. I guess you do. You do exactly that. Imperfect...temporarily...lovely. Mmm."
"You've never asked me for anything at all. What do you want?"
I understand all too well, and for what it's worth I'm relieved that he doesn't feel burdened to push through and speak. Not for me.
He hasn't said it yet, and every deliberate gesture he has made has been kind and careful, but I know that he is done. I can see it in the set on his jaw, I can see it in the way his eyes shift, in the way he swallows nothing again and again. Simon has had quite enough of the brutal practicalities of feeding on human life. Still, he stays.
The digging is good, good for the soul. There's a pang somewhere deep, something I know I can't possibly describe to Simon, that makes me want to lay in this pit and just be in the earth. Even healthy as I am I want it, though not as strongly as I've wanted it when the rot clings and the hunger feels like a burden. To do it, even just to be here half in the ground is a profound pleasure--dirt under my nails, in my pores, in my hair, on my face; I can taste it in the air and it will cling to me long after we leave this place. Beautiful.
But I know what living people think of these kinds of thoughts. Macabre, obscene. He would worry. He wouldn't understand, and look at him, he's so raw, how could I possibly describe this beauty to him? Not even just to languish in the grave alone, but to lay here with another person, to kiss here, to share blood--life!--and to move together and then lay very still and grateful to be as alive as we are, and grateful too to be Dead enough to love it...how could I describe that to him? How could I possibly suggest that I want to make love in this grave? I do want that.
Instead when he grips my dirty hands in his dirty hands, I take his muddy palm and lift it to my cheek. I lean on him wordlessly and sigh. I am happy here, even if it aches. Even if I don't think I can describe what I want to him, the fact that he reached for me and offered this gesture here, to show me that I am still wanted in any way here...it's a seemingly small thing but he can't possibly know what it means to me. He utters some pretty little words, his soft mannish voice almost startling in the quiet, sombre and grateful though it is. That is the right tone for all this at least, isn't it? A pair of killers, sombre and grateful together.
It seems for a moment that I won't be able to get out of our pit, to move or say a single word to him. But then I do, I climb out, and I help him with the carcass. I help him fill in the grave. There's a weight in my chest, deep in my gut, jealous of the corpse. When it's done at last, earth packed, leaves scattered, I kneel by that grave and sigh yet again.
"I miss the earth," I hear my own quiet voice sounding foreign to my ears. It has been a long night. "I miss the nights Jamie and I would wander endlessly through the forest only to bury ourselves at dawn. So simple. So...calm. I miss..." I dig my fingers into the ground we just reset. I pick up the dirt and let it crumble in my hand, sprinkling down on the leaves, then press my palm to my still naked chest. I think, in the weird way that unwanted memories can surface, again of how Nic used to bury me in the garden at dawn--I told Simon about that just yesterday. I think now that for all the heinous things we did to each other, that it was unfair of me to pull that one surprisingly lovely detail and shove it at Simon to shock him. I regret doing that. That detail was more about my evil than Nic's and I never should have made it seem like it horrified me. It didn't then, and it never has.
"Mmm. Sometimes I...I wonder if there's something that calls to us to the earth..." I confess, "I don't mean to...I don't want you to think that..." I look up at him, struggling. "I am committed to building a proper life for myself. But...sometimes all of this," I gesture loosely to the nature around us, "feels more like my world than any other part of what I am."
I stand, finally. Things are packed--meat, teeth, cash. Nothing left to do now but flee the scene.
"Thank you for sharing with me Simon," I offer finally. "Can...will you take me home with you? Can I ask that of you too?"
He wants to pull his hand away, to not dirty Jeffrey's face with the dirt staining his palm, his fingers. But this touch seems to be needed, a lifeline between them, though Simon cannot guess as to why. Just remain still and solid for him.
With the body beneath their feet, he stands to leave before Jeffrey speaks. Of the earth, of his brother, of a connection to both that Simon does not understand. It almost seems as though Jeff isn't quite speaking to him, merely speaking out his thoughts. Simon just happens to be the only thing in earshot that can parse these words.
This connection to the earth, to nature, speaks to Jeffrey having died. Many times, not just the once when he was turned into the being he is now. His brother and him killed one another again and again until it felt like second nature. The earth could be home to them in a way that it never would be for him.
Then the hesitation creeps into his voice and Simon shakes his head. This isn't about him, about them as a new couple. It is their species divide, and it is one that he can never cross into. He'll always be a little too human to understand what it means to die and be reborn. When he dies, it will be final. There's less he can romanticize of the act when there is no return for his kind.
When he stands, Simon moves to carry the bag, wiping his hands on his pants. It would do for now, and he didn't want to stain the rental car and have to worry about cleaning it before he returned it. At least he had booked it through the full weekend, he didn't have to worry about returning it tonight.
"Of course you can stay over. Don't even need to ask." He retrieves Jeff's shirt, draping it over his arm as they walk to the car in comfortable silence. The death is too top of mind for Simon to say more, to answer all that had been shared with him.
Along with the bags he'd bought a gallon of water, using it now at the car to wash their hands, Jeff's face and chest. Clear of most debris, Simon resumes the drive back home as if little has happened.
It isn't until he's at a steady speed on the highway that he speaks, "Again, thank you. I'm not sure I'll be doing this with you often, or ever, but I am appreciative that you've let me see how you feed. If you need to return to the earth, there are some state parks up north. I can water Edith for you."
I feel out of body as we walk to the car and drive away. I'm pulled briefly back only as he washes me, thoughts just as empty, but happy to be touched. The water is cold but it feels good. The dirt scrapes nicely over my chest. His hands are so warm and gentle, all I want in the world--if I can't lay in the earth--is to lay beside his warm body and have his fingers in my hair. He will take me home. He may put a bell on me yet.
The car cruises quietly along, and when he speaks it's the dreamy half-asleep sound of voices in quiet cars. The pressure is different, speeding along the smooth highway, headlights carving the path of black ahead of us.
When he mentions watering my plants I find myself smiling. I rest my head back and look at my hands, my bloody nails.
"You're too kind to me, Simon," I say quietly, keeping my light smile, "how are you so ready to compromise for me? To swallow your bile for me time and time again, to wait so patiently first for me to get healthy, and now for me to die?" I look at him, still feeling dreamy. I hear my words coming out slow and calm. In another tone the might be accusing. Right now I just genuinely want to know.
Maybe I shouldn't be asking questions like this. Maybe I should just let nice be nice. He agreed to take me home after all this. Maybe I should just say thank you.
"You told me last night you know I'm going to leave you. So why endure all this?"
