psychoshenanigans | Goodnight // AU

Entry tags:

coil,
zhas

Goodnight // AU

[clans of Life-Eaters are notoriously awful.

they build these hives underground because they are too hideous to travel among humans. some make their homes in existing sewer networks, but this particular clan had cobbled together a multi-story underground bunker running the length of a full city block underneath some otherwise perfectly normal apartment buildings. it's a dismal place. some cement, metal siding, creaking floorboards, old furniture. their sense of interior decorating makes Saoirse's look festive and colorful. an unfortunate mildew smell emanates from pretty much everything.

negotiations with Life-Eaters are always pretty simple. either they agree to help the Red Queen fight against Hel and the West Court's tyranny, or Zhas brings a squad in to destroy anything in those tunnels that moves. it was thrilling for the first six hours or so, when the hunt was on--but word of further negotiation drifted in from outside, and for whatever reason, they were told to cease the killing and stand their ground.

that was a few days ago. they are not allowed, nor are they able, to physically leave the perimeter. Saoirse herself is on her way, or so Veins has told them--and they are waiting out a bet that will win them the clan's full allegiance... if they can stick it out. Zhas imagined, after the first of the Kin-Eaters started cracking, that it was easier for Saoirse to agree to than it was for them to actually see through.

Day 4. tensions are running high...]

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[he gets closer as his insistence grows, which is normal for their more heated discussions--or, at least it had been once, back when he hadn't had fangs in his mouth. a normal step nearer to his human partner while arguing carries a slightly different flavor now.

'we can come back.' as if it would be remotely that simple. 'we need to leave,' he signs, with extra emphasis on that second word. 'out of time.']

[Zhas doesn't move. he should have taken a step back, should have had an ounce of self-preservation and answered that feeling of warning--but things are different now, and he's got a lot to prove, so he stands his ground both literally and metaphorically as Coil gets closer.

he signs for 'no' this time, curtly.]

[of course he moves forward another step; it's one of the only ways he can try to get the gravity of his point across without a voice. he's probably not even thinking about it. there's another frustrated, voiceless breath. and when he signs 'we can't do this,' it's unclear whether he means the knights and this mission, or the vampires and their self-control.

in either case, he needs help, and he needs it now. 'what do I do?']

[he reaches out to stop him, pushing his fingers out against Coil's sternum. the hungry vampire can stop getting closer now, if he doesn't mind.

Zhas is catching on quick, even though the string of curses running through his head only grows louder and more agitated as the reality of Coil's condition sinks in again.]

How bad is it. [opting to speak, here, because he's not about to move his hand.]

[Coil doesn't push it when he's stopped, but he doesn't step back away from Zhas' hand either. he stays exactly where he is. it's a little like any unnecessary motion might rattle something important loose.

he wishes--sometimes--that he could feel other things the way he could feel exactly how empty that hole inside of him is. he's pretty sure he could see it if he closed his eyes now.

and he'd meant to respond, but being asked about it makes him think for too long. he doesn't want to calculate enough to be able to answer. his fists clench. his jaw works while he bites down on nothing and grinds his teeth. Zhas's fingertips are warm.]

[for a moment, he is quiet. he doesn't move his hand, barely breathes as he tries to balance instinctual habits and a higher thought process. how much of this is a vampire about to lose their cool, and how much of it just Coil not handling himself?

but he needs Coil to handle himself, even more than he did back when he was alive. if this kid snaps and gets in a bad fight, Zhas has no doubt that he'd win... but in a frenzy, he might go drinking the wrong kind of blood.

and that's counter to Zhas' trying to keep him alive and sane for as long as possible.

he glances at the entrance again, past the bookshelves, before slowly easing up on his hand. he motions for the other to stop, stay right there--while he takes off the glove covering his left hand.

and then he holds out his hand for Coil.]

Edited 2016-10-21 16:50 (UTC)

[and now is when he takes a step back. he shies away from Zhas' hand like it's something dangerous--it makes him more dangerous, leaving an opening like that for him.

it's a last-ditch demonstration of will. he's not thinking about what Zhas might be trying to communicate. his thoughts aren't quite clear enough for that. it's more of an instinctual reaction; he knows it's something that he's not supposed to do, so he tries to get some distance from it before something bad happens.

it doesn't work spectacularly well. his eyes are fixed on that bit of bare skin for long moments before he finally manages to glance up and look for eyes.]

[his gaze is steady, as is his hand. his glowing eyes are easy to see down here in the dark. he nods at Coil, lifting the offering just a little higher.

is it a terrible idea? yes. but he's certain he wants to do it. 'here', he gestures with his other hand, before saying aloud:] You need this.

[as Coil receives irrefutable permission, something clicks loose in his head. it's the sound of him being let off-leash, and then the noise that hasn't left his skull in days goes still.

the struggle finally stops. he's a predator and not a snarling monster when he's suddenly moving forward in the dark. quick and quiet, he grabs Zhas' wrist--but then pulls him forward and dodges in to meet him halfway, teeth going right for his throat.]

[and somehow, Zhas didn't expect this.

was it foolish of him to think that Coil could have some ounce of self-control here? maybe he'd simply underestimated how hungry he was--or overestimated the boy's capacity for manners. either way, the situation takes a steep dive to a bad place, and he instinctively struggles hard to keep the vampire away from his neck.

he tries to force them over onto the table. maybe it would stun him. he's not really operating on logic here, not with only a split-second to react.

but he hasn't been bitten in the neck many times before, and he's not interested in having a repeat episode.]

[there hasn't been a day since he's died where he hasn't thought about this at least once. the wish usually goes skipping across his brain, unwelcome, every time he's left alone with his old friend. he can't help that it's nice to think about; it's worth the guilt that always crushes him afterward.

all of his wondering and yearning doesn't hold a candle to the reality, however. the table slamming into his side is somewhere very far away, with the smell and feel of familiar, hot skin up against his mouth. it fills his senses like breath in starving lungs, and nothing could tear him away from that.

instinct has him hauling himself forward with his other hand hooked on Zhas' neck, and rolling into him to keep his balance pitched backward as they hit the table.

he doesn't want to hurt him. he's just taking what Zhas said he should have. he doesn't mean to bite so hard when he finds the softest, warmest part of his throat. he just doesn't want him to get away.]

[he's had nightmares like this before. he'll probably berate himself for his stupidity later--assuming he survives that long.

he isn't thinking much, suddenly oriented all wrong and dealing with the very startling, very real pain of being bitten in the neck. his vision drowns in static, he loses perception of the noise he is or isn't making--all he can manage is to use his free hand to try and claw away at Coil's face, or kick him off with his legs.

neither work well enough, though. his fate is sealed. it's a matter of seconds, and somewhere at the back of his panicking animal brain, he knows it.]

[he doesn't understand how he knows exactly where and how to bite, but he hits his target and opens just the right vessel. he's immediately flooded with the best thing that has ever happened to him, and no amount of clawing or kicking is going to shake him loose. he hadn't realized just how cold he had been until he tastes life again, and warmth begins to seep from his throat to his arms. adrenaline has nothing on this rush of fire and strength, and he finds himself distantly surprised at how easy it is to hold his friend down.

the animals that he's been given in the past can't compare to this. even the precious vials of gold that he works so hard to earn don't come close to living up to it. the first few seconds are perfect.

after that, he becomes aware of something running down his chin and he realizes that something is wrong. he's spilling. it's not working right.

instinct pushes him backward, drags his prey with. he doesn't know where he's going--just that he has to move.]

[well, it turns out that "backwards" is going to end up more like "down". in addition to his supernatural strength, Coil has another advantage going for him. they've both studied the tranquilizing effect of vampire bites extensively--Zhas could recite the facts from memory, were it not happening to him at this very moment.

as much as it hurts him, as much as his instinct to get away has been roaring in his ears, it can't last. something else seeps in through the wound at his neck, spreading with every panicked heartbeat until he's drowning in it. his hand slips away from Coil, his legs collapse out from under him, and he's suddenly a deadweight dragging them in the direction of the floor.

he can't comprehend anything very well. that's the ingenious part of it; victims will forget they were ever attacked because they can't remember being there. the pain is far away, the monster is a distant dream, and it feels so good to not be held rigid in his own body.

he gets pretty quiet... aside from little sounds, small gasps that aren't entirely voluntary. his body is trying to fight it, but his mind has already given up.]

[Coil can't help but kind of follow him down, because he might be stronger than usual, but having his bleeding prey hanging on him is not going to help any of his problems. he lets go of Zhas' deadweight arm so he can brace and slow the fall, sliding down the leg of the table along with his heavy catch.

he doesn't mind being down here, really; he's glad Zhas is going quiet and still. the floor is safe and solid and dark. he can lean back against the leg of the table and drag this big, warm body close. he can gather him up, hungry and greedy, hold him tight and draw him in.]

[the room is of no consequence to him. something moves his body around, and the twinge in his neck occasionally tries to surface past the haze he finds himself in, but otherwise? all he knows is that Coil is here and that it feels nice.

"nice", what a dumb little word. he never uses it to describe anything, but he'd use it now. nice to be sitting, nice to know that Coil is here. in another time, a time with stronger roots in his memory, Coil was his friend. Coil wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.

he tries to move his arm. he'd like to hold him in return, welcome him in. it doesn't really work, what with the heavy disconnect between his brain and his body, so Coil may not even notice the hand that raises up... only to fall weakly against the boy's back.]

[some distant part of his brain--the part that is watching this unfold from a detached, horrified distance--wonders when he should stop. the rest, however, is sure that this is where he will stay forever. this is the only thing he has ever wanted. why would he ever stop?

Zhas is heavy and leaden against his chest. he smells like smoke and sweat and now the flooding smell of wet coins. he couldn't be closer to him. he has him. it's perfect.

the only thing picking at his attention, interrupting the euphoria filling flat, cold veins, is the warmth running down his chin. it's sliding down his neck. he tries to shift his prey higher against him, dig in deeper, but his shirt is wet. he's wasting it.]

[a little blood will go a long way, in terms of a vampire's appetite. unfortunately, a small wound in the neck will also go a long way in terms of blood loss, and the hole that's been torn in Zhas' neck is not exactly conservative.

even through his clouded awareness, some part of him starts to think that Coil should let go. he likes being warm, feels it blossoming down his neck and chest, relieving against the cold... but something is wrong, and he needs Coil to know about it.

again, none of this quite makes it through to the outside world correctly. he only groans, and not very loudly. he has enough strength to lift his arms, but barely enough to hold on, let alone try to shove the vampire away from him.

hopefully, Coil will start to pick up on the fact that his victim is losing strength. and blood pressure.]

[they talk about how sharks are somehow able to pick up tiny, invisible signals from their prey even in the dark of the deep sea--a sense so fine and undefinable that humans have no hope of actually understanding it. Coil gets it now, though. he would never be able to put into words how he can detect the faint-but-vital shift in his prey's system. the heartbeats quicken as blood volume drops, breath changes just slightly in depth and rhythm. even the tiny change in how his prey bleeds floods the back of his brain with information.

vampires know when they're pushing their victims beyond their limits; it's just a matter of whether they have the will to stop or not. and in Coil's case, it's a very close battle.

how much he covets his friend is both the thing that rings all the alarms in his head, and the thing that screams at him to never let him escape. he wants to keep him. he wants to hold him and have him until there is nothing left to take.

but the fear of losing him is just enough to finally shove him away. somehow, he manages to wonder through the euphoria about what it would really be like if he took every last drop, and that thought outweighs the hunger and the joy, and it stabs right through the center of him.

when he finally unhooks his teeth and tears himself away, it's with the half-formed thought to check in on Zhas. as if he would see anything other than his friend quickly bleeding his life away when he sits back to see.]

[luckily for Coil, the effects of his bite will keep Zhas confused and cooperative for another half-hour or so. unluckily for Coil, drawing back reveals just how badly every other aspect of this seems to have gone.

Zhas does not look good. part of it is his sudden pallor, his uneven breathing, his apparent inability to do more than fall back against the side of the table. most of it is the blood, a wet shine soaking into his dark coat. bright red against his skin. it's everywhere, and it smells amazing.

how long until the smell makes it out of their little room? can the others smell it, even now? was anyone close enough to hear the struggle--will they come running? if Coil couldn't resist chomping down into his only friend, what hope does some lesser vampire have of resisting an easy meal like this?

Zhas manages to press a hand down over his neck wound, though the accuracy and helpfulness of this gesture is debatable. he's having a lot of trouble focusing.]

[as Coil returns to his senses, slowly and jarringly, he becomes suddenly aware of the fact that he's breathing. part of it is the blood drying on his chin with every breath, and part of it is feeling the pace of it begin to quicken as he realizes the full scope of the problems lined up before him.

he's nothing but useless for a moment, staring dumbly as the horror builds. and it gets bad when the instinct to patch up his mess and cover his tracks is stopped short. his mouth should be able to mend what it has ruined, but somehow he'd forgotten that he's missing a very vital piece of equipment in that process.

the realization hits him with a pang and finally gets him moving. his throat is tightening--sick and choking with the jolt of panic--but he wriggles fast out of his sweatshirt. he can't even tell him that he's sorry. he can't tell him what to do when he wads up the shirt and jams it hard against the wound. all he can do is hope that Zhas gets the message when he presses the man's numbed fingers around the cloth and squeezes. it's the only thing that has a hope of saving him while Coil gets up and flees.

he runs away. across the room, through the door, out into the hall. and there he spins while he strangles over where to go, what to do, and how to keep monsters from following the trail back while he's away.]

[left behind in a suddenly empty room, Zhas does as he thinks he's been instructed and holds the shirt against his neck. he thinks he's been bitten--but the idea of it doesn't bother him much. it merely strikes him as a curiosity. is he going to die? well, that would be funny, wouldn't it? this has happened before, and he wonders if this is as bad as those other times.

maybe. he wishes that Coil was there so he could ask him.

the hallway outside of the private library seems to be empty. not surprising, considering the pain it was to find the hidden room in the first place. Coil can sense echoes of movement far away, maybe even pick up sounds echoing from chambers many hallways from here--but no one is in the immediate area. probably.]

[between the stress raking out his nerves and the fresh, new energy that he's brimming with, he feels primed to snap--not like a fraying string but like a jaw-trap. he's bristling with tension as he listens for the tiniest sounds, the subtlest warnings. he doesn't know where to go, but some part of him knows that he will just have to rip apart any creature he happens to come across in the meantime, to protect what is his and make sure that nothing lives to pick up his trail.

so, wide-eyed and balanced on a knife-edge, he jitters into motion, creeping down the hallway. he couldn't imagine relaxing enough to breathe, now. even blinking seems impossible. and every nerve is ready to lash out at the first thing that dares to move in front of him.]

[nothing moves in front of him. not even the scuttling of a particularly menacing spider can be made out in the empty dark of the hallway.

behind him, however, at the other end of the hallway, something lands on the floor with a soft, nigh-inaudible thud. it steps forward, towards both the door and the vampire that so recently scurried out of it.]

[he hadn't thought that vampires were affected by the sharp chemical sting of adrenaline anymore, but it sure feels as though they do when his dead heart leaps into his throat.

it's only the faintest touch of sound, but it's enough to hit the trigger. whipping around in an instant, he's already set to lunge at whatever's there before he fully faces the presence behind him.]

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