What if members of Team Core-Tech go hit by a Vampire Curse? (1/5)
(Blood and suggestive themes under the cut)
Beyal:
Perhaps Beyal, ironically, is the one most resistant for such a Curse to hit him.
He had been raised all his life to live selflessly, restrained in one's own desires, kind and generous to others. Meditation centered him, his will unsheakable and concentration his strongest suit.
Which is why, when he's pinning Dax to the ground, the lowlander holding a metal pipe as the only barrier between his neck and his newly sharpened teeth clampling on the cold metal, years of dealing with wild animals while trekking on the wilderness make the action second nature as the monk frantically tries to bite, Bite, BITE-!
-''DROP IT, MONKFISH!''.
He is suddenly back in his body and scrambling backwards, metalic taste in his tongue, horrified at his own actions. How could he be capable of attacking a member of his tribe!? What is wrong with him? Why is he so- So thirsty!? Why does his friends smell so- So good!?
The rest of the teens stare back at him just as horrified, as if he's a wild animal about to lash out, they can't help but point the nearest blunt objects at him, should he attack again.
-''What the crag, Beyal!?''.
-''Oh god, his eyes are red!''.
-''What happened to you!?''.
His breathing gets heavier as he spirals in panic and confusion, he looks down at his hands as if he could get an answer, his throat is so, so utterly dry, he's so hungry.
He looks at his reflection on a broken window, what looks back at him almost makes him shout in terror as he once again can't help but try to scramble away. A Creature with sharp, manic, bloody red eyes that turn just as horrified with recognition, incisors sharpened to pointy needles, his white hair is all messy and his robes dirty from trying to wrestle Dax into the ground to- To-!
-''I-I...! I'm sorry- I didn't meant to-!''.
Where his stomach used to be there's now a bottomless pit that begs to be filled at any cost, he's so Empty, so-
So hungry.
The young Monk rationalizes some kind of Karmic retribution. He must have angered someone, Something, as they went on their Journey. Intruded in something they shouldn't have. He willingly allows the team to place countermeasures should he lose himself again, guilt nagging at his very soul, he cannot apologize enough for his savage outburst, nor for the massive inconveniences and troubles he has selfishly placed on his Tribe.
A Vampire, they explained to him, he somehow has become a Vampire. A creature of horror that he has only glanced at in some books and passing TV screens.
When he actually takes the time to study the concept, the more horrified he is. The very concept of such a Creature goes against everything he stands for, everything he has been taught. A being of Pure Malice and corruption, of selfishness so profound they drain the life of the people close to them. He cannot accept this, he cannot succumb to this corruption of his very soul, the notion feels damning, utterly violating, of this thing inside of him trying to carve him out and replace him with a complete monster.
So, he pours all his energy into meditation, long hours spent alone despite having the group around. He grounds himself as much as he can, asks for help to whoever would listen in The Dreaming, finds solace in his Monsuno's quiet support. He wonders if he commits enough to living contrary to this Curse's demands, of refusing it so completely, of keeping himself kind and selfless and pure, the universe itself may cleanse his body of it. His team finds it commendable, of his strong will, determination and selflessnes, they renovate their efforts to find a cure; they have to, they cannot lose their resident Monkfish, they will not stop until they save him.
Time passes. He grows weaker and sicker. His spirit dwindles, the groups grows increadily restless and frustrated when their search heeds no results.
He cannot stomach normal food. He can barely drink water. Sunlight borderline burns his skin, makes him feel clammy and weak, he can hear his tribe's heartbeats, he is abnornally strong, he can crush rocks with his bare hands, he can see perfectly in the dark and he can smell scents from a mile away.
Speaking of scents.
He knows now the definition of Torture.
Chase, so loyal, so determined, he needs to pin him down, he needs to get lost in his veins, he needs to see that hard, troubled stare look up at him as he takes his fill.
Bren. So fragile, so small, his fear like dangling a piece of cooked meat to the starving. He can't help but fantasize about chasing him down, of cornering him as he helplessly begs and cries, unable to fight back.
Dax, So strong, so driven, so wild and free. He needs to wrestle him to the ground, he needs to hear him scream, he needs to fight him every step of the way, see him become wild and scared and angry and desperate, feel that raw strength under his teeth. Submit to him completely, nothing but his to take and sate him.
-''Beyal?''.-Jinja looks down at him as he shrinks in a corner of the motel room. It's a completely stupid idea, of separating to search for clues because Beyal now faints under the sun, of leaving him alone with only one person to keep watch over him.-''H-hey... I think we should-''.
-''No''.
-''But it's hurting you! You're getting worse each day!''.-She shouts in frustration.-''Those are signs of starvation! We're running out of time and we haven't even been able to get you something to replace food!''.
-''I don't want you to do this''.
-''And what if I do!?''.-She seems close to tears.-''I can't just sit by and watch you die! So what if you need blood now? We- We can work something out! Maybe it will buy you time until we search for a cure! I-''.
-''...I can't lose you like this''.
A single tear falls down his cheek. He's so empty. So thirsty, so tired.
-''...I think I already lost myself...''.
-''...You're still in there, I know it. You're not gone yet!''.
-''You've held on this far! Even if it has gotten you so sick! Even if it's killing you! I know you won't hurt us!''.
-''...I know you won't hurt me...''.
-''...Please don't do this to me''.-He muttered, looking away from her approaching figure.
-''...I won't''.-She gave him at least this little thing.-''I won't force myself onto you... But I'm afraid you cannot starve any longer. You have to make a Choice''.
There is no Cure.
There is no Saving him.
-''Please, Beyal... What can I do to help? You just need blood don't you? Isn't that all that you want?''.
He glanced up at her. Miserable, ashamed and defeated. Her pleading gaze only made him feel all the more guilty.
Crimson had completely replaced the grey of his irises. He had lost weight, he was so pale, dark bags under his eyes. He gulped as his eyes flickered to her neck, his throat so dry it felt like trying to swallow woodchips, the trace of her scent hurt in such a way he couldn't help but to selfishly want more.
He looked away, too ashamed to look her in the eye as he finally spoke.
