mememaker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mememaker) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2012-06-16 01:47 pm
mememaker) wrote in bakerstreet2012-06-16 01:47 pm
Entry tags:
the sire/sired meme
Your characters are now vampires, one is the sire and one is the sired. Play out the relationship that results from this!
- Post your characters, name | series | preferences in the subject.
- Go to RNG for their role. Note it somewhere or roll for each individual response.
- Others respond after going to RNG and getting a prompt.
RELATIONSHIP
1. Sire.
2. Sired.
SCENES
I.
1. teacher/mentor | you have to teach your newly created vampire the ropes.
2. resented | the vampire you created resents you for what you made them. can you work it out?
3. tracked down | you're being tracked down and hunted and the only thing that matters is keeping the vampire you created safe and vice versa.
4. injured | one of you has been injured and is in need of some blood.
5. before | you're giving your potential child an option to become like you... or maybe you
6. wildcard | missed something? want to combine options? go ahead.
II.
1. first time | you're confessing your love for your creator or the vampire you helped create.
2. prey | you have to show the other the art of hunting and preying on humans for food, how to seduce them.
3. sharing | maybe one of you is reluctant to drink from humans, but it works just as well from your lover or maybe you just got carried away in the throes of passion.
4. gift | a gift of food to feed on or a literal gift, you like to spoil the other.
5. dedication | you need the other to know how important they really are to you.
6. wildcard | missed something? want to combine options? go ahead.
III.
1. torture | they disobeyed you and it's time to pay.
2. no spelled y-e-s | they don't want to be like you, but you'll make them into a vampire anyway.
3. mine | the other is yours, only yours, and you will claim them.
4. trapped | you're trapped in physical danger or about to be set out to burn. can you get out of it? or can you only save one?
5. fight | verbal or physical, you are at each other's throats.
6. wildcard | missed something? want to combine options? go ahead.
no subject
[ Bitten out as if it were the only that mattered. James was right about that, Steve had seen the long list of destruction and dead bodies. He couldn't pretend to be blind to all the blood on his hands. Yet in the moment it was nearly impossible to give it much thought, because being alive and here and knowing who he was meant that there was an opportunity to set things right, or at least start to.
Maybe that was selfishness on his part, wanting redemption for the other without a thought as to what Bucky might want for himself. Who was to say he wasn't happy with his new life, changed so beyond recognition that he would rather have let Steve believe him dead than to see what had become of him? ]
I would have done anything, to take that day back. Every day, I...
[ The words scraped dry against his throat. He took a step closer, steady as he could manage, still steering himself straight through sheer force of will. No. He could see Bucky, somewhere on the inside of this man. He wasn't so forgone that he couldn't see that pale echo of his friend, that black stare not so unlike the look in his eyes when he'd crossed enemies lines to bring him home. As damaged as things were, there was time now to--
Like his strings had suddenly been cut, Steve pitched forward towards the ground, knees giving out without warning in a sudden rush of black. ]
no subject
You're a punk.
[ a begrudging grunt as he eases him down to take a look at his wound. it's worse than steve let on, not much surprise there. looks like it was a steel-tipped round; he doesn't see regular bullets shred through men like that, especially not men like captain america. his nostrils flare as the scent rises up and clogs the space between the two of them; he can feel his canines descend, the world around him growing sharper in sight and sound. hastily, he rips off his jacket to place it over the gaping bullet hole, and searches steve's body none-too-gently for a phone, a walkie, a communicator, anything, because he needs to get out of here now, but like he'll he's leaving his best friend. no matter how twisted things got, how wrong and skewed he was made to look on his nation and his hero, he's never felt that steve abandoned him or did anything less than everything he could. that day and every day.
even as a soulless creature he owes him nothing less than the same concern. ]
no subject
Jerk.
[ Letting go of the tension to keep upright lets him breathe easier, at least. All of the jostling about looking for that comm on his belt doesn't even get a wince of pain. Hell, being on the ground feels...good. Peaceful. Like the world's suddenly slowed down. Maybe he'll stay here a while and let everything catch up to him. That half-smile hitches a little wider as he shakes his head slowly. ]
The biggest jerk. I can't believe you're really...
[ A hand reaches for James, grasping his arm. His fingers dig into the fabric as if to hold on, like really is a shadow that might vanish at any second. ]
no subject
[ it's a single, deep hiss that exposes everything. of course the idiot has no comm -- no way for fury to track him or shield to interfere. before he got to, what? talk him into coming home to brooklyn and starting a new life? it's six decades and thousands of untaken heartbeats too late for that.
he reaches up to his face, gives him a smack to rouse him. he's intimately familiar with how a life slips away, and steve's a lot farther along than he'd like. the predator tells him to take advantage of the situation, loom in the easy kill. to fight the hunger, he gives his anger total reign. his other hand applies pressure to the quickly soaking fabric of his jacket. ] Don't make me do this, Steve. You're not making me do this.
no subject
[ The whole world's slipping away. It's not the sudden darkness of impact with the ice, it's a slow drain, though he's hanging on with everything he's got. His eyes focus again sharply against the smack, his grip tightening on the other's arm as he glances down at the wound.
That laugh is so bitter. He can almost taste it on his tongue. ]
Never could make you do anything, Buck. Didn't plan on starting...just want the chance to...
[ It's getting colder. James is no source of warmth himself. Steve swallows, tensing as if to move. ]
It's gonna be fine. We can...talk. Head to a bar or something. There's a place by the hotel...we'll work it out. Somehow.
no subject
god just doesn't deserve him. james's saw sets as he becomes certain he's not giving him his best friend. that's not selfish, it's evil; maybe steve will be better, a holier demon. if it could be anyone... or maybe he'll be a new breed of monster. truly, james has no idea what to expect, but this way lies steve's second chance, and the other, the last loss he can suffer. ]
Yeah.
[ now or never. he glances over his fallen friend a last time while he's like this: chest barely moving, red spreading into the blue and white fibers of his uniform, beat up and looking like hell, but whole. untainted. ]
Somehow.
[ abandoning his effort to slow the bleeding, he hefts steve's prone body up in his arms and turns his head away with the grip of his scarlet fingers on his jaw, exposing his throat. the beast is insatiable ensured of a meal, and slick sharp rows of teeth bury without mercy into his throat. ]
no subject
[ There's time enough for hope to flick with those words, before the other's fingers are turning his head to the side. At first it doesn't make a lick of sense, the sudden shift in his grasp (why does he have to be so much dead weight? It's embarrassing ) and the way the world tilts unsteadily behind him only makes one thing clearer.
This is it, isn't it? He finally finds Bucky only to die, not in any great fight against some threatening army or even a madman super villain. No. It's a stray bullet that does him in. That's almost funny, too.
He might have mentioned something to that effect but Bucky's leaning close, like there's something left to be said. He wants to hear it, strains to before it's too late, and all he can feel anymore is regret that he has to leave him again, one last time.
That cold, numbing regret blossoms sharply into pain, bright against the back of his eyes, as he feels those teeth sinking into flesh. Steve's eyes widen with an aborted sound of protest, staring upwards as instinct tells him to fight, to push and tug against that unrelenting force holding him steady. Even his heart pounds desperately enough in these moments to burst out of his chest, though steadily it starts to grow slower. Weaker.
No...! ]
no subject
years of blood -- american, russian, german, egyptian. he's stolen from veins all over the globe and never tasted anything like what they did to this kid from brooklyn. he feels healed, enhanced, above human and vampire, and insatiable in search of further sweetness what sets off that sharp copper tang. ]
no subject
Nothing's still. He feels like he's tumbling, falling, too slick to hold onto anything, and the room is blurring sideways and starting to melt into black. Even the razor-sharp bite is growing numb, more a dull ache now, a labored, slowing thrum that matches the beating of his heart. Should have said goodbye. Fury's gonna--
The hand that grips James's arm falls slack against the cold floor, dust wafting upwards at the movement. Maybe this blood will sate him, and spare someone else tonight, he thinks absently, eyes starting to lose their focus. ]
B-bu...
[ There's nothing for it. He's too weak to even speak. Prisoner of his own body again. Well, on the bright side, it doesn't feel like it'll last long enough for him to remember how much he hates it. ]
no subject
he's not so lost as to be so unselfish, to simply let steve die, and begrudgingly, viciously, he bites into his right forearm. sharp, clear pain sears straight to his brain, a heady rush in death, and stranger still with the super soldier serum in his veins -- now pouring out in rivulets that stick to his skin before gravity pulls them to the ground. ]
Come on.
[ he lifts steve's head and holds his arm over his mouth. crimson speckles and droplets colour the pallor of his chin and lips. ]
Come on, Steve.
no subject
No.
It's not that he doesn't get what James is after. He's read up on these creatures, what the rumors would say despite the general belief of being mere fancies and fairy tales. If he doesn't drink, he'll die, right?
And if he does...he loses everything he is. If it could alter Bucky so much then what will it do to him? How many people will he end up hurting? He can't do that. He'll gladly take the other option. ]
no subject
[ he's not taking no for an answer, and crushes his arm and his dribbling wound flush to steve's mouth. he hasn't lasted this long through the years to watch his best friend die because he couldn't let go. captain america isn't going down in a grimy warehouse with no one but a ghost to hold him as he goes. that seems more of an injustice than taking him and turning him against his will, making him into an animal of instinct and appetite, but he has no clear view anymore, can no longer see the world through a lens of humanity. good, evil, life, death: the most important things seem trivial, and he's tired of drifting through it all alone, losing touch every day, wondering if the things he feels are real or motions he forces himself to go through in order to believe himself a man.
if steve dies, and if he feels no guilt, then he'll have his answer, and he'll wish he didn't. what any of that means, he doesn't quite know, but he might be able to figure it out with him around, even if he's isn't what he once was. there may still be hope, an unsensible sliver of it. that's more than what would survive if steve doesn't. ]
no subject
All it takes is one. One single droplet that works its way past his lips onto his tongue. One, and he's doomed. The second the coppery tang hits it's like a switch being set off, and Steve's eyes snap open. All the willpower in the world couldn't help him now.
Suddenly his lips go slack, parting against the cold flesh of Bucky's wrist, and there's more of that slick metallic rush as reward. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, one hand lifting to grasp Bucky's and hold him steady as he finally starts to drink.
There's something perverse in this but he can't bring himself to care in that instant, warmth trickling over his tongue and down his throat. It burns a little, like alcohol, like it's taking and scrubbing everything down to the quick. There's a tremor in his body now, and whether that's Steve Rogers dying or something else waking up inside him it's hard to say. ]
no subject
no subject
There's enough of himself left to feel nauseated at the thought. Whatever is rising inside of him is not going to supplant him completely.
Why, just now, does he remember the other best as a scrawny kid in a back alleyway, grinning cockily as he holds out his hand? The memory is so old and faded it might crumble and blow away in a strong breeze, but he holds onto it as the hunger rips away at everything else.
Killers of men. How did we become this?
His eyes shut tightly as he rips himself free of Bucky's wrist with an anguished sound, blood smeared across his mouth, his jaw, trickling down his throat.
His heart stills entirely. ]
no subject
I asked you.
[ his voice is thick with a dark deep scratch to it full of threat and upset. he told him to call fury, to let him leave him here with any other option but undignified death, and he refused. his stubbornness took him to war, to the future, and this is where it's taken him now. ]
no subject
No. It's fading now, or he's adjusting to it. Steve gets his feet under him one after the other and draws upright slowly. Something pangs in his chest, a thirst at the back of his throat at the loss of that life-giving blood. Gnawing hunger. It's a noticeable presence where it wasn't before, and with a rising pitch of despair he realizes it's never going to be gone, entirely.
He swipes at his own mouth in a gesture that nearly mimics James, then pauses, letting it fall. Where the world had stretched and blurred it all snaps back into focus with remarkable speed. ]
...what have you done.
[ Steve's head lifts, and those eyes are the bluest they've ever been, impossibly bright in the darkness. He wants to be angry with him, but he can't. All he can feel is numb disbelief, as he hears the snow falling just outside. ]
no subject
What they did to me.
[ not all of it. james won't warp his mind, remove his will, push him so far he becomes what he hates even when every last soviet bastard who made him that way has died at his hands. he may not wind up like this, clinging to his last memory of mortality by destroying it. he may well. whatever steve chooses, if he wants james beside him, then that's where he'll be. ]
The perfect soldier, minus the daylight ops.
no subject
Vampire. The word sinks in as he remembers how to breathe, despite no longer needing to. His fingers curl, feeling the renewed strength in his body. Already he can feel his body starting to knit the damage together, bit by bit, accelerated far past the rate at which even a super-soldier could heal.
He can't go back like this. He's a risk to the team, a threat. He can't...not now, maybe never again.
Fury boils up unexpectedly, eyes flashing bright as he turns to look at James again. There's this impulse to just crush his fist against the man's face in frustration, to watch skin split and bones crack, and the tension to do so builds in a second, but Steve seems to catch himself just beforehand. He breathes, looks away. The flare dies, the monster pushed back down again and reined in.
He may not have been able to stop from becoming this, but he won't let it become him. He knows who he is. ]
...there has to be a cure.
no subject
[ to disease, mortality, morality. to pain and guilt and longing. james can see the murder in his eyes as it begins to set in, the realisation of all the things he now is and isn't. he'd have taken that hit, if steve had thrown it. he deserves that and more. but he keeps himself in check with a restraint that's impressive for a newborn, but not so unexpected for steve.
not all of them could fall frozen into the sea and survive on a serum. he ought to want to die, just thinking that, but he doesn't. he ought to feel inherent remorse for all the things he's done, but he cares more about what steve feels than his own undependable and insincere emotions. it doesn't matter to him what james is, or it didn't. he wonders if that's still true now. ]
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This can't be the end of their story, one long coda of blood stretching across the years until keeping track of time ceases to matter. Once again, everything that mattered will become dust and forgotten, and he will still be here, standing over the remains. ]
The cure to what?
[ He doesn't trust himself to look at the other, not yet. His senses pick up the scent of the chilled corpse lying on the ground nearby, the sharp scent of wood and dust...and the way the cool air chills his core as he breathes it in.
He wants out of this building. ]
no subject
To you.
[ it's not blameful, but it is bitter. steve's no more responsible for the competition of super-soldiers than he is for the space race. they're just the soldiers, the experiments, who got caught up in someone else's politics. ]
To the problem of the perfect soldier: humanity.
It's just more magic than science. [ even he sounds like he doesn't believe, but once again, no choice. ]
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[ The words are uttered sharply enough to fill the empty warehouse, like the ripples of a pond spreading around a fallen stone. At first it's bitten out too quickly to be certain to what he's referring. It's obvious he's agitated, the tension holding taut as mentally he continues to check off the list of things that are lost, changed, or otherwise tainted.
The physicality of it is impossible to deny. ]
...maybe we're not human anymore, but that doesn't mean our humanity is a lost cause. I won't accept that.
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And what will you do?
[ he takes a step toward him, stowing his hands in his pockets. they aren't enemies now, nothing separating them but this thing james has done, a sliver that could crack into a chasm. ]
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[ That anger smooths away as his gaze falls on James again. He'll have to learn from the other, more than what's been documented or studied. His friend has been one of these creatures for decades now, and if there's something to be gleaned that might be of use in crawling their way back to some form of redemption then he'd know it.
He tries to ignore how even less human James looks with these new eyes, the details thrown into sharp contrast even here in the dim light of the bloodied warehouse. ]
...I'll have to let the Avengers know what happened. Find someplace they can't follow until I know I'm not a threat to them. If there's a way, then I'll find it.
[ A way home. Now there's no way of going back without the other by his side, and maybe that's what he deserves, after all. ]
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