Halloween GP

[londoncallingmods]

The weather today had been fairly pleasant, a mostly sunny day wedged between fairly grey ones. It wasn't warm, but the chill was minimal for this time of year, and there wasn't a drop of rain in sight. As night crept in, however, the streets slowly faded from sun kissed and painted in autumnal colours, to foggy and damp. An odd thing, really, since the forecast had predicted a clear and pleasant night.

It wasn't normal fog either, it was denser, thicker, and it carried an distinct scent, like cinnamon sugar and chestnuts. It was so thick it seemed to drain the streets of their colour, leaving the wold desaturated and grey. More importantly, anyone with a bit of magic in them would sense, quite quickly, that it wasn't of this world. It crackled quietly with power, dark and heavy. Unfriendly.

It was around nine pm that the local police stations began to receive calls, things they assumed were pranks at first, but soon began rolling in so quickly and frequently that it seemed something more was afoot. The evening news spoke of mass hysteria, warning people to stay indoors. Conspiracy blogs were lit up with chatter of chemical warfare, and some 'airborne drug'. There were reports of people seeing everything from long dead loved ones, to killer clowns.

Though despite the nervous chattering of talking heads and twitter addicts, most people were paying the supposed danger no mind. Clubs and bars on every block were blasting music and throwing costume parties, people were out with friends, wandering the streets and looking for a fun time. It may have been Monday, but that didn't seem to be stopping many people from enjoying the holiday.  

For the most part, everything seemed fine. ...The crowds and groups remained oblivious to the danger of the fog. ...It was only those who slipped off on their own, to have a quick smoke, to get some air or head home early. They were the ones in danger, they were the ones who's darkest fears seemed to emerge from the thick fog. 

Around 10pm, reports started to come in regarding a body found in Whitechapel, cut open wide and left to bleed out. No prints at the scene, no signs that anyone else had even been there. The CCTV footage had somehow been rendered useless, glitched out and blurred. A trouble echoed by every other security camera on the street. It was enough to set twitter and the internet off all over again, with talk of how the things seen in the fog might, somehow, be real.

(Happy Halloween! The fog is bringing fears and spoops to life! You can make the creatures and fabrications of the fog as personal or general as you like. Whatever works best to spook your pup. If, for any reason, you don't want your pup to see any spooks, that's totally fine too. It's not a required plot. Unlike last year, this time around the creepy things your pup might see can harm them and do real damage. Though they will vanish in the morning. If your pup is sensitive to magic in any way, they might sense that this magic is distinctly fae. If you have questions about what you can or can't do, just ask in slack! Though really, the only limit here is your imagination. Remember to check with other players before doing anything that might seriously hurt their pup, ect, ect, and have fun!)

Comments

[trustearned]

"How long?" Michael asked, letting Kersen have at his shirt, irritation flashing through his eyes at being unable to do it himself.

[kersen]

"I don't know," said Kersen, irritation slipping into his voice.

He finished with the buttons and had a closer look at the wound. "It's healing," he said. "Good enough anyway. My blood isn't as potent as Eric's but it will keep you alive."

He pulled away from him then and unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them so that he could examine the wound on his own leg, since they were too tight to pull the pants leg up. He winced.

[trustearned]

Michael spent a few more seconds staring at his own wound, willing his brain to work the way he wanted it to. When it failed to comply, he leaned back in the armchair with a wince, and only then saw what Kersen was doing. "How bad is it?"

[kersen]

"Could be worse," said Kersen, finding that the wound had at least stopped bleeding. "I need to feed. I have blood in the fridge."

[trustearned]

Michael watched him distantly, trying to work through the haze of his mind. He reached for his jacket and pulled his phone out, checking that he had no messages. He had to hope that it meant that Cesare was all right, the party unbreached by that fog, or whatever it was a symptom of.

It took him an immensely long time, for him, to think of sending his boss a text. And it took him even longer to manage to type it, for all that it was short and to the point. Healing. Check in every hour?

[kersen]

Meanwhile, Kersen drained an entire carafe of blood, and finally started to feel slightly better. He felt the wound begin to close at least.

He walked back over to Michael. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. An apology? A thank you?

"How are you feeling?"

[trustearned]

"Hazy," Michael replied after a beat, still struggling with his mobile's autocorrect. Finally, he was happy with the state of the text, and sent it.

He set it down on the chair's arm, and looked up at Kersen. He held his gaze for a moment, his own nowhere near as sharp and intense as it usually was, then said, quietly, "Thank you."

[kersen]

"... you're welcome," said Kersen after a moment. "You didn't seem very happy with me at the time."

[trustearned]

The part Michael had initially been unhappy about wasn't the one he had been thanking Kersen for, although he supposed that he should be, so he let that stand. "I am now," he answered instead.

[kersen]

"I suppose that's good," Kersen said. After a second he sat down on the other arm of the chair and looked down at Michael. "You knew that wasn't really Cesare," he said.

[trustearned]

"I know now," Michael answered, leaning back on the chair, both relaxing and feeling awkward about relaxing. This wasn't the right sort of relaxation; it was Kersen's blood buzzing through all of him.

[kersen]

Kersen was pretty sure he'd known then. He had run in to check on the real Cesare right after, after all. "So to be clear, if the real Cesare ever tries to kill you, you expect me to just let him?"

[trustearned]

"I'm never giving the real Cesare Borgia a reason to kill me," Michael evaded the question. He didn't want to answer it. "But I certainly wouldn't want you to rip his head off," he added in a mutter.

[kersen]

Kersen caught that and shot him a sharp look. "Do you know how hard it is to kill a zombie? If I'd just snapped his neck he'd have been right back up again."

[trustearned]

"It wasn't him, anyway," Michael replied to cut short that argument. He'd have bloody preferred it if they had known that before Kersen had ripped his head off, but crying over spilled milk wasn't his style.

Usually, he would have been making sure no more milk was at risk of being spilled, but with how hazy he felt, he did not feel up to the task. They could have that conversation later, as far as he was concerned.

[kersen]

Kersen sighed softly. "Michael. Are you okay now?"

[trustearned]

"I'm bloody high," Michael replied with irritation. Of course he wasn't all right; the simple fact that he'd just cursed ought to testify to that.

And yes, being high ranked higher on the scale of 'not okay' than 'my wound is still healing'. One was his body; the other was his mind.

[kersen]

Kersen blinked at him. A bit stricken, honestly.

He'd actually thought Michael must not be feeling the effects that much, since he hadn't been overtly reacting. Even with Hannibal, who was so reserved, with that much of Kersen's blood he probably would have crawled on top of him by now. But what was he supposed to do, apologize? Sorry about the side effects of saving your life.

Kersen pointed to the bed. "Feel free to sleep it off," he said flatly.

[trustearned]

Michael was, in his normal state, not very inclined to manage other people's feelings. Right then, he wasn't even going to try and figure out what had Kersen pissed off, if it was even anger that had bled emotions from his voice. Whatever it was, it could wait.

"I'm fine here," Michael replied, still that tense. Sleeping would be nice, but he wasn't sure that he could, not until he stopped feeling the effect of Kersen's blood so much.

[kersen]

Kersen still couldn't quite tell what "high" meant for Michael except that it seemed to make him slightly pissy. (Which Kersen didn't really have any place to criticize right now.) But he was clearly uncomfortable. And Kersen felt bad for that.

He reached down and tentatively slid his fingers into Michael's hair. "Bath?" he suggested. "I could wrap up the wound."

[trustearned]

It took Michael one second too long to find the will to pull away from that touch. Trying to resist the call of Kersen's blood, with his mind that buzzed, was exhausting. "Don't."

He had never fucked Kersen solely because of his blood; he wasn't going to start now.

[kersen]

Kersen pulled his hand away and stood, looking like he was trying not to look hurt.

"Maybe I'll just... go check on things upstairs," he said.

[trustearned]

Michael nodded and looked away from him, hoping that he would go. Then he might actually be able to sleep. He was in dire need of rest.

[kersen]

Kersen looked at him for a second and then went into his closet, changed shirts since his had blood on it, and then swept up the stairs without a word.

[trustearned]

Michael began to breathe a little easier, once Kersen was gone. It took him longer than he would have liked, but eventually, he even managed to go to sleep, still in the armchair. He wasn't sure how much time had passed by the time he was woken up by a small sound, and he blinked, thankful to find that the effects of the blood had subsided. He carefully twisted around to see what the noise had been.