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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[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.]

[the thing behind him is hideous.

it flinches back, uneven eyes widening in surprise. lopsided is the word for it, with vaguely human legs growing more and more disproportionately large to support the bulging growth that seems to be the entire upper-right side of its body. it's stocky, heavy, and quickly opens its mouth to reveal a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

it bolts forward, but not for Coil. it ducks and rolls right for the doorway.]

[no.

he might be silent, but the sound in his head is a roar. he doesn't have time for this.

he bounds forward without hesitation--hits the wall to turn without losing momentum--and charges through the doorway and into the creature with every ounce of hate and muscle he has.

as he pounces on it, he wishes he had claws. but hands and teeth and chair legs will have to do.]

[the thing tumbles to the ground, Coil on top of it. it must have been one of the sneakier, quiet ones, for it lacks in much physical prowess beyond what its meaty exterior can handle.

it's easy to tear into, but there's a lot. black ichor, a putrid smell. it doesn't have the balance to get much more than a few scratches in, doomed to mostly-human fingernails itself.

it chews the words "kin-eating scum" out at Coil before trying to bite into the boy's shoulder--but the attack is its last resort.]

[self-preservation is not presently at the forefront of his mind, but he is still envisioning punching through this thing's face when he lashes out at the fangs lurching up at him. he wishes he was big enough to tear the creature's whole head from its spine; he feels like he could be.

he needs it to stop moving. time is running out and he needs to go.]

[it's a little like punching through a glass window. it shatters, collapsing inward and bursting out the other side--though Coil's fingers are raked with scratches and sting with its gorey remains.

for a moment, anyway. the body quickly stills and starts unfurling into ash from the center-point of the injury. soon it will be nothing more than a scorched pile, and maybe a few broken teeth.

the room is silent again, save for the minute sounds of Zhas being still alive over by the base of the desk.

leaving Coil no time to think, there's another, much louder presence slithering up into the doorway. the boy has been around long enough to know, even in his excited frenzy, that it's a familiar face this time.

Veins showed up. it was probably to find Zhas, but now the spectre of a man looks over the scene--incredulous in the middle of what was already a hurried frustration.]

[first, there is only cold, startled fear. that self-preservation sense finally flickers to life as Coil understands on some primal level exactly how much trouble he's probably in. for that first moment, he can only stare over his shoulder in overexposed surprise, crouched guiltily over the body of one of the creatures that they were theoretically supposed to recruit. everything about this is wrong and he knows it.

but then, he thinks of the pathetic sounds coming from over by the table and he starts to scramble up to his feet. waving at Veins and half-signing in panicky relief (and incriminatingly drenched in blood), he points over at Zhas. ]

[Veins is not having it. Veins gestures pointedly in the exact same direction as Coil, because he sees everything that's happening. he could smell the blood from down the hallway. he signs, quickly and urgently, as he lacks enough form to have a physical voice:

'we have been ordered up to the surface,' and as if that wasn't clear enough, he adds pointedly, 'Saoirse is here. we cannot wait.']

[at that piece of news, Coil's mouth parts in surprise--though it seems suspiciously like the silent shape of the word, 'ma.'

and without knowing what else to do, he turns back to his fallen brother. should they carry him out? Coil hovers down at his side, afraid to touch him let alone move him, but he's going to die if they don't get him to help.

he's going to die.]

[despite spending the majority of Zhas' life with him, Veins has never been very sympathetic towards the human and his human-related problems. the dim-witted boy was doomed to die sometime, he just hadn't expected that looming death to come at the worst possible time.

he knows that his Queen will be furious if her beloved huntsman dies, but Veins does not have a body with which to help, heal, or even carry him. she needs someone to help her up on the surface, and all three of them should have been up there minutes ago.

the best he can do is order, leave him, hoping that the green fledgeling will abandon Zhas in favor of doing something useful. perhaps they can still save Zhas too, if they hurry. he's not about to hold his metaphorical breath, however--if Coil isn't on board after just one more repetition, Veins is leaving.

Zhas continues to lose blood, slumped over on the floor as he has been. his hand is clamped against his wound pretty well. maybe it got through to him that it's important.]

[stay with his brother to watch him die, jar everything loose and spend time dragging him to the surface so that he can watch him die on the way there, or race up for help and risk him dying alone, down in the dark.

those are his choices. and at first, the latter one is unfathomable to him as an actual option. but, as he senses the Shadow readying to abandon them all down here in this tomb, he (perhaps aided by keener instincts now) runs a few fast calculations through his head.

while he would rather be with Zhas while he dies than leave him to a more lonely fate, he would also rather him live than die at all. and the longer that he thinks about it (mere fractions of a second, but they make up for it in weight), the more he realizes the only real choice he has if he does want to attempt to salvage this.

a stressed breath crushes out of his chest as the scales begin to tip--nearly turning into a whine between clenched teeth--and his weight finally shifts in the direction of the door. tearing himself away will feel very literal, but if he is going to be convinced to leave... it will have to be now, before he can change his mind.]

[the Shadow is easy to follow, and purposefully so. his form glides effortlessly over walls, around corners, under doors... he would be almost impossible to follow for long if he was not a slinking beacon of energy.

they wind back up through the compound. a couple of faces look up from side rooms as they pass, but those few will not be joining them. something else snaps at them from the corner of a grand hall, but that one is restrained, chained to a desk for the safety of the rest of the group.

up ahead, a light blooms brilliantly from an open door. the light of the sun is something none of them have seen for days. Veins has to stop just short of the entryway, in the shadow of the structure, and even then his outline waivers as if threatening to disperse out of existence.

Coil can hear his Queen addressing someone, out in the sunlight. a few steps further, and the hallway opens up into a wide alley between apartment buildings. the dozen recognizable vampires who remain are sitting on parked cars or leaning on trash bins, looking haggard. Saoirse is in the very middle, flanked by two new monsters who arrived with her. she herself is wearing a beautiful red dress a few centuries out of style, her face partly obscured by a matching red parasol.

standing maybe ten, twelve feet away from her, under the protective cover of an awning, is another Life-Eater. his limbs are far longer than they should be, his teeth fit oddly in his mouth, his hair is sparse like straw, and his eyes are little more than small white dots--but he is dressed in a suit tailored to fit his disproportionately-sized body. he responds to something in a rasping voice.]

...and of course, I will lend you my full support, as agreed upon. We have been looking to expand into this territory for a very long time.

[the "gentleman" leans against one of the poles, being careful to keep his head where those in windows above will not be able to see him. Coil may be much more concerned with the number of heads that start turning in his direction, however, when they notice that something smells like fresh, human blood. there is absolutely no chance in Saoirse's polite posture as she responds to her conversation partner.]

Well, I should hardly act as if this was a difficult decision. We would much rather provide a home for our allies than let old wounds fester. It is our hope that your blood will grow strong here, for the same reasons as your own...

[politics, politics. what's a panicking vampire to do?]

[if he'd still had a heart, it would be hammering against his ribs... and as it is, he still feels the sort of nervy nausea as if it had been.

he might be half-blinded and squinting in the sun, but he can't miss the hungry eyes that pin on him, and he trains on the lovely scarlet form of his master just as fast. he knows what he must look like as he comes creeping out into the light, flinching and bloodstained. he's just another skulking rat of a monster, and he's instinctually expecting to be snapped up like one at any second.

but that isn't going to stop him; something much more valuable than him is at stake, bleeding out down in the dark.

so, like submissive, panicked dog, he quickly skirts around the edge of the gathering and heads for his Queen.]

[and the pack of wolves perk up their heads as he passes. loyal survivors or not, they're still hungry, and most of them have let down their guards now that they're finally out in the open again.

but by some miracle, the tremendous tension that suddenly fills the air does not break as Coil goes creeping across it. with audible confusion, the Life-Eater tilts his head and stares at the new guy, leaving Saoirse no choice but to acknowledge the thing crawling towards her.

she turns her head only. her warm smile comes just a split-second too late, a quirk that's easy to overlook among their kind. anyone who has lived with her knows it's a sure sign she's being disingenuous.]

Yes, dear, what is it?

[her words are soft, velvet. she holds out her hand gently for Coil. even she knows how to save face in front of important company.]

[he would love to believe her smile. he wants so badly to cling onto her offered hand, hiding where she will lovingly protect him, making the whole world better in an instant.

but, thanks to the rigorous training bestowed upon him by both of his mothers, he manages to keep from being as much of a mess as he could be. pathetic still, of course, but he doesn't crumble apart completely when he very much wants to.

he sidles up within her arm's reach, but refrains from grabbing her hand. instead, he pleads up at her in that way that he does--half with his eyes and half screamed in his head. and though he's never quite sure she ever understands, he begs with the sign for 'help.']

Goodnight // AU

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