(no subject)

[mememaker]

the alternate universe meme

how to play
1. post with your character, name and canon in the subject line.
2. feel free to mention which aus you’re willing or not willing to play in the body of the comment.
3. tag by rolling for an alternate universe setting using rng.
4. or tag by picking whatever au you’d like to play in most.
5. have fun!


alternate universes
i - all human: in an all human au, characters who are canonically vampires, werewolves or superheroes, are now humans, with corresponding changes to their backstories.

ii - apocalypse: a portmanteau of "apocalypse fic", apocafic is fiction set during or after some sort of apocalypse, or end of the world. some canons carry a built-in apocalypse against which the protagonists are fighting: in apocafic, they lose. for example, apocafic in stargate and x-files is usually set after the alien occupation; supernatural apocafic is set on a demon-controlled earth.

iii - band: an alternate universe in which the characters are members in, or form a band. often, the instruments they plan and their roles in the band are analogous to their canon identities. for example, tony stark might be cast as the fame-hungry lead singer who is also a musical genius, or river tam might be a classically trained pianist who, after a terrible experience at julliard, writes songs for mal reynold's grunge rock band, serenity.

iv - circus: circus aus are a popular trope in fanfic and sometimes fanart. using a circus as a setting means introducing the characters to each other in a close-knit community. that can help break down barriers between them and make them bond together against the outside world which may not understand them as well as the other characters do. it also brings a sense of adventure and the idea that this world may have different rules and everything is possible. a circus can also be a good place for characters to go undercover and meet the love of their lives.

v - coffee shop: the barista au (or coffeeshop au, or the closely related bakery au) is a popular fanfiction trope in livejournal fandoms. in most cases, one half of the main pairing is the barista and the other is or becomes their favorite customer; in some stories the whole cast works at a coffee shop. this trope is especially popular in fandoms where one character is very attached to coffee, either in canon or in fanon, or is frequently stressed.

vi - college/high school: college fic is a popular genre of fanfic (less often a genre of fanart) that places characters together in college or another secondary institution such as the starfleet academy in star trek fic (then called "academy fic"). this can be canon stories, for example backstory if characters have or could have met during college, or college aus, similar to high school aus. in science fiction, historical or fantasy fandoms the present day college au is a popular subgenre of the modern au that puts fantastic or historical characters in more mundane everyday settings.

vii - cop/detective: an alternate universe in which the characters are cast as cops or investigators of some kind. often, the canon villain is also cast as the villain in the story. this might be set in modern times, or in a noir-like environment, complete with gangsters and femme fatales.

viii - daemons: his dark materials is a fantasy trilogy by philip pullman. the trilogy consists of the golden compass (1995; published in the uk as northern lights), the subtle knife (1997), and the amber spyglass (2000). there are currently two companion novellas: lyra's oxford (2003) and once upon a time in the north (2008). a movie adaptation of the first book was released in theatres in late 2007. humans have their souls living outside their body in the form of an animal companion. males have female souls and females have male souls. the animals often correspond to the character’s personality.

ix - fantasy: an alternate universe populated with fantastical characters like elves, dwarves, unicorns, sorcerers, and dragons. canon characters might be cast as analogous races (e.g. clint barton or katniss everdeen as elf archers) or they might be humans in a fantastical setting. characters also might be able to secretly shape-shift into another form, like a dragon, and therefore is related closely to were/vampire/supernatural aus.

x - historical: a historical au is a fanwork which moves characters into a different historical period than their canon setting. typically this involves taking "contemporary" characters (from the late 20th century or 21st century) and putting them in an earlier historical period (such as the 19th century or before). popular settings for historical aus include: pirates, america's old west, britain's regency period, ancient rome, a vague facsimile of medieval england such as robin hood, and many others.

xi - hooker/porn/stripper: hookerfic is a type of fanfic where one or more of the characters is a sex worker. there are many different types of hookerfic, ranging from more realistic depictions to the more common pretty woman-type fantasy of a hooker with a heart of gold, rescued from life on the streets by a client. sex work of all kinds is portrayed—brothels, escorts, street prostitution, "call-girls" as well as strippers and go-go boys.

xii - magic: magic aus are alternate universe fanworks that incorporate magic in fandoms where there is no magic present in canon. (or in some cases, fanworks that make a canon with magic more magical.) they differ from elf aus in that there may be magic without any elves showing up, and are opposites of all human and mundane aus.

xiii - neighbors/roomates: an alternate universe where the canon characters live next-door to one another, or in the same apartment building or complex, or in the same apartment. often, this is also an all-human au, if the canon characters are powered in some way. the forced proximity is usually used to create romantic tension between characters.

xiv - space/sci-fi: a space au is an alternate universe where a source set on earth is transported into space; works are often referred to as "[fandom] in spaaaaaaaaace!" the trope can be a form of crackfic, but often includes surprisingly serious reinterpretations of the most earthbound of sources, particularly historical fiction written or set before space exploration. cyberpunk trappings such as robots, cyborgs and ais are often included.

xv - steampunk: steampunk was originally a term for a sub-genre of speculative fiction that imitated 19th century "scientific romances" like the work of jules verne and h.g. wells. later, the term was applied to a general aesthetic involving styles that would be "futuristic" from the perspective of the 19th century. steampunk appears in fanworks as both a genre and an aesthetic. there are some fandoms for which the canon is steampunk(-ish), e.g. the secret adventures of jules verne, but more often it is found as steampunk alternate universe.

xvi - western: the western is a genre of fiction set in the later half of the 19th century in the western part of north america, especially the united states, but also canada and mexico. sometimes also included in the genre are stories about western-type characters and plots in other settings, e.g. "space westerns" (in science fiction settings) and contemporary westerns (set in the western part of contemporary north america).

xvii - were/vamp/supernatural: a reversal of the all-human, in these fics characters who are normally human are now supernatural creatures of some kind the most common being werewolves or vampires.

xviii - choose your own: self-explanatory! choose your own option.

Comments

“I’d like to thank the academy” I say as the pin punctures my aorta and I bleed out on the flo

[welcome_mat]

( No need to tell her twice - she’s gone, stealing away across the shaft of light and up the staircase, her feet quick and quiet as she sweeps the hall with her MP5. There’s light coming from a room at the end of the hall, and she moves towards it, slicing the pie with the other rooms as she comes even with them. They’re all vacant - one seems to be a storeroom for the platoon, stocked to the brim with munitions and rations of all kinds.

It only takes her fifteen seconds to dig up the RDX, blasting caps, and detcord. It only takes her thirty more to rig up a daisy-chain of charges along the RPGs, grenades, gas cans, and belts of LMG ammunition.

(Strictly speaking, sabotage like this falls outside the purview of their mission - but she doesn’t think Venom, Kaz, or Ocelot would particularly mind her taking this kind of initiative.)

When it’s done, she pulls the fuse igniters, and with a muffled pop, they do their thing. They have ten minutes before the charges detonate and bring this place tumbling to the ground. All the more reason not to dawdle.

She heads back out into the hall, MP5 raised as she hugs the wall leading to the end of the hall. She can hear voices, now - interrogatives, but no answers. They’re questioning him, but either he’s unconscious or he’s playing tough guy. She counts one - no, two distinct voices. She can swing this without a flashbang - it’ll make too much noise, besides.

She comes even with the door, pivots inside-

-and the glint of a knife in lamplight looms large in her vision.

Time seems to slow to a crawl as the room comes fully into view. It’s square and plain, with the only furniture a table and two chairs in the center of the room. In the chair closer to her is a soldier, half-turned towards her, his face weathered from the hostile Afghani sun. In the one further away is an elderly man, bald and spectacled, with only a plain white t-shirt on above the torso.

Next to her, not more than arm’s length away, is another soldier, twirling his bayonet in his hand as he also begins to turn to face her, the blade’s edge glinting in the light. But there are two more - guards behind Dr. Edelstein, both armed with AK-74s.

(Stupid of her. Should’ve never assumed.)

CQC can best be described as a mixed martial arts system. While it doesn’t draw exclusively from any one art, some, like Krav Maga and judo, have made their mark more heavily than others. As the missions of the Diamond Dogs can change and the Diamond Dogs themselves must adapt, so too can it - from non-lethal “come-along” moves and restraints, to less-than-lethal palm strikes and pressure point manipulators, to the bone-breakers and life-takers all the way at the other end of the spectrum.

When it happens, it does so all at once. The soldier with the bayonet snarls and curses as he lunges at her, blade plunging toward her heart. She steps to his inside before blocking his stab at its apex, twisting his arm to bring it parallel to the ground before fracturing his elbow with a sickening crack. She throws him over her hip, and he lands with a crump and a grunt before she levels her MP5 with his head and puts a round through his cranium, thwock.

She looks up. Three left. The interrogator is trying to stand up and reaching inside his jacket for a sidearm. One of the guards is raising his weapon - the other looks too shocked to do much of anything just yet.

She raises her weapon, shoulders squared as she sights in on the interrogator, and pulls the trigger thrice. Blood blossoms across his chest, and a grimace seems to etch itself across his mouth as he crumples to the ground. Next are the guards - she sights in on one and gives him three rounds, and he falls just in time for her to shift her sights to the other guard-

-and see a flash form at the muzzle of the weapon.

The two gunshots ring out like firecrackers in the enclosed space, and the rounds hit her stomach like the flat head of a shovel. It all but knocks the wind out of her, and she grunts and grits her teeth as the pain explodes up her midsection. There’s no time for that, they can’t afford that-

Front-sight focus. No time for breathing, no time for squeezing - just put the blade on his torso and snap off as many rounds as you think you need.

(one-two-three-four-five-six-seven)

He gets off another round as Frost puts him down, but this explodes the section of the wall above her head, and he goes slack against his own piece of wall, leaving a blood trail against it as he slides down to the floor.

All clear, four EKIA. Two gunshot wounds - the rounds went right through her Kevlar. She glances down, pressing a hand to them. She can still walk, she can still talk - it’s nothing. She’ll live.

She grunts in pain, slinging the MP5 over her back as she makes her way to Dr. Edelstein. He’s slumped down in his seat and doesn’t look at her as she approaches, and so she leans down to press two fingers to his carotid and to listen to his respirations, checking her watch as she does so. He’s breathing and has a pulse - he’s just unconscious, and even that seems to change as he begins to come to. He mutters a question as she digs a penlight out of her back pocket - she doesn’t understand it, but she has an answer nonetheless. )

Arzt Edelstein. Ich bin hier um dich zu retten. Bleib ruhig und du schaffst es hier raus.

( She tilts his head back to check his pupillary response. Skin’s warm, dry, pink - he’s PERRL (Pupils Equal, Round, and Reactive to light), so no major brain damage that she can tell. He’s handcuffed to the chair, and she snatches a keyring off the interrogator’s belt before hurridly trying to see which of the keys opens the cuffs. He draws breath to speak, but she cuts him off before he can even begin. )

Sie können später Ihre Fragen stellen. Wir müssen gehen.

[bravejemma]

Oh, we've upgraded to more than one kind in the machine? Things are looking up.

[Lighten up, Ward, she's joking with you. Awkward Ward (AwkWard, if you will) was something of a novelty. When they'd first met on Coulson's team he was an aloof specialist who was used to working alone, and even once they relaxed into working as a team, he'd been confident. Cool. Then, she supposes, a chameleon of a man such as Ward could have made them believe whatever he wanted them to.]

[inlay]

[in the end it takes about a full forty minutes for the bird to squeeze out her egg and stop crying; she falls asleep while nestled around her baby (which prompto is secretly hoping will be male, so he can have a cute little noctobo running around the place). forty minutes is better than the two or three hours he'd braced himself for, but noct might have been expecting him to come back sooner — so prompto hurries a bit as he locks the stable door behind him and half-jogs back to the house.

prompto takes his shoes off at the door, and almost trips over the cat, which has been apparently waiting to be let outside. he watches it slink away, a little worried about where it goes on its early morning walks... but it'll probably come back for breakfast, like it always does. more importantly, he needs to wash his hands. and take off his jacket. and take off his outdoor pants, which he'd just lazily pulled on over his pajama pants — not like the birds were going to judge him if he had a little hint of plaid sticking out over his work jeans.

he slinks into their bedroom almost silently, grinning at the noctis-sized lump of blankets on the far side of the bed. it's a miracle he doesn't say something awful like it's snuggle time! when he bounds over and lets himself into the sheets. it's not especially chilly outside, but it's warm inside the blankets and prompto is cold with brisk morning air; he wraps his cold arms around where he thinks noct's waist might be, and presses his cold nose into noct's shoulder.

snuggle time.]

Hey, Nooooct... didja miss me?

[reunite]

[What kind of historical period would you be interested in? Even if we fantasy it up there's a big difference between, say, Ancient Rome, Viking Scandinavia and Industrial Revolution England.

And would you like to go the route where they're connected already and Ragnar is serving Ashley in some capacity, or rather one where they're strangers running into one another, or perhaps Ragnar could be the priest of a cult/congregation Ashley belongs to/attends?]

[raventonbeauty]

[I'm... kind of a huge fan of all those time periods. I think strangers meeting would be best, in some manner. Either human Ashley encountering Ragnar's cult/congregation, or young vampire Ashley, sheltered and spoiled, who has recently lost his family and is in need of a new emotional focus, if that sounds good. Do you have a preference for time period? I'm very comfortable in any of the three you suggested.]

[reunite]

[...okay I think I have an idea.

How about Ancient Carthage, before the Romans sacked it? We could use actual WoD canon or just make things up as we go, whichever you'd prefer. (And make Ashley a vampire, obviously.)

I'll start, Just need to know if that works and if you'd prefer using WoD canon/metaplot or not.]

[raventonbeauty]

[That sounds fantastic. Let's lean more toward making things up as we go, since I don't know much about WoD canon as it relates to vampires. Use as much of it as you want, just kind of ... nudge as much as I might need to know into the narrative. Or I'll just PM you if I get confused on any details. Better go brush up on my Punic.]

[reunite]

[You get a very, very young Ragnar :3]

He left Carthage in the early morning, after catching only a few hours of sleep, and headed off towards the south-east, and he still only arrives two hours after sundown, worn from the street and tired.

He doesn't know what to expect - his lady told him that there is a fledgling vampire here who needs to be brought into the city because his sire was destroyed in a seaside venture, and he is now her responsibility, somehow. Mago sighs and stares at the emissary letter in his hand. Hopefully that will be enough to make whoever this is trust what he says...

It's not that he minds helping vampires travel cross country. He's done it before, and as long as you aren't being waylaid, the worst hazard is the boredom. But despite him having been a ghoul for over a decade now, this makes him feel very uneasy. Or maybe exactly because of that - you don't realize how scary vampires are until they stop being just another passer-by on a nightly street and become someone you're working for and thus spend significant amounts of time around. And their friends and allies and enemies...

Okay, so here would be the countryside grounds of the guy in question. He slowly walks down the path, looking around and hoping that someone will be around that he can talk to, but by the time that he's reached the main house he's had no luck yet.

So he calls out. "Hello?" Please be just a human member of the household, he thinks quietly. He'd really like to know a few things more about the lord of the house before having to talk to him.

[raventonbeauty]

Ashley didn't have a clear sense of how much time had passed. Nights, certainly. Moons, perhaps. Not years, he didn't think.

There weren't servants anymore. Hadn't been for some time. Not since his brother had sailed east to study sorcery among the Egyptians. Not since his father died and his mother went insane, and began feeding upon her own household until they'd locked her in her room, for her safety and theirs.

Even his most loyal servant had left. Ashley remembered, dimly, being told something about that. Going somewhere, to tell someone... something.

There was someone in his house, in the darkened rooms, protected so vigilantly against sunlight. It was moonlight, now, and the heavy curtains were open. Ashley found it easier to stay below ground during the day. Where it was cooler. Darker. Safer.

He slid through the shadows, not creeping, nor making any particular effort for stealth, and yet there was a silent grace that provided stealth. More like a child, or a lover, creeping playfully, and less like the dangerous monster that he was.

Hesitating in the shadows near the door, just beside the protection of a heavy set of drapes, Ashley watched as the intruder entered his empty and neglected house. In the moonlight spilling in through the open curtains, the state of the place was clear--furniture toppled, clothing discarded carelessly, wine dripping from a spilled goblet, not yet congealed. The chaos of it resembled equal parts tantrum, laziness, and helplessness.

And just beside the heavy bronze doors, waiting in the shadow, a beautiful young creature, with marble-pale skin that caught the moonlight, especially where his dark robe slipped from his shoulder. The color of cloth was lost in the black and white world of the night, but there was one remaining thread of color spilling down over it, glinting slightly in the moonlight.

Ashley wore his blood-red hair long and loose, the supreme vanity of a spoiled and uncommonly beautiful young man.

[reunite]

....Something went seriously, seriously wrong here. Places Mago doesn't want to be right now: Here.

Places he is: Here. So he'll try to do his best by the situation and hope to see the next morning. He has a job, and now it's too late to try and reconsider doing it, anyway. Not that failing to do it and returning empty-handed would meet much better results than facing this situation here, probably.

"Lord Ashley?" Nooot moving, and trying to not look as nervous as he feels, either. "The lady Zyabqot sends me. She was a friend of your late esteemed sire and offers you a place by her side in the city ...here." He holds up the letter, half expecting the man to be there in a flash to take it and be back in his spot a moment later - a couple of vampires, he's observed, love to use Celerity to freak out humans, and sometimes ghouls, who are usually capable of it as well to a much lesser degree. It's some kind of joke that's only funny for them, he figures.

[raventonbeauty]

That was his name, thought he wasn't accustomed to being called Lord. His name had more often been said with exasperation, with affection, with laughter, with lust, but always just Ashley.

A letter. A name he didn't recognize. Zyabqot? It was hard to think. His head thudded with hunger.

"You smell... different," Ashley said, stepping forward from his shadow and drifting light fingertips over the back of the stranger's shoulders. His visitor was interesting. Handsome. Different, in some way Ashley couldn't quite place. Not like family, not like their servants.

hajalimala | d&d oc

[favoredchild]

XVI AW YE

[hunterhunted]

[ He needs a horse.

The dust and heat have helped cover his trail from the hounds on his scent, but that can only get a man so far when he's on foot. Somewhere in the last five miles, the men that hunt him found themselves a set of horses, and if he doesn't at least match that he'll be dangling from a tree with a rope around his neck sooner rather than later. And so, he needs a horse. There was a time when he might have paid for it; his people were avid traders, after all, and they knew well how to haggle to a good price. If he wanted to, he could probably get himself a fair deal — but time is a precious thing and, frankly, he doesn't want to. Why trade with those who would only cheat him in the end? Why not just take, as they have done since they infested this land?

And so, he takes. The sun is sinking low in the horizon when he hops the fence of an old ranch that sits a few hour's ride from the nearest town. The beast shies, but he calms it with a steady hand and a few soft words; by the time a lantern brightens the window facing the fences he's swinging bareback onto the horse's back and urging it on and out, kicking open the rickety gate as he goes. With a press of his knees he works the animal into a canter, heading towards the rising hills that will see him into the mountains before week's end. ]

[favoredchild]

[ Inside said old ranch, the whinnying of horses from the barn immediately alerts the young physician residing there to something being amiss, and she scrambles over the back of the desk chair, remembering at the last moment to grab her lantern's handle as she goes tumbling through the house. Bursting through the front of the house with lantern and shotgun in hand, the door clatters behind her as she raises the shotgun to take aim. Through the last light of dusk, she's only able to make out the barest details of the receding figure and-- her horse?! ]

Hey!

[ Dashing across the ranch and out to the barn, she makes a beeline to the stall of a buttery yellow mare. There's not a moment to lose as she's pulling herself up the horses side, the pair of them exploding out of the barn and barreling towards the damnable horse thief. Ducking low against the mare's neck, she urges the horse faster and faster, gaining ground on the thief by inches as they gallop toward their quarry. Once within bellowing distance, she shouts twice to get his attention. ]

Hey! That is my horse!

[reunite]

He tries and doesn't quite manage to suppress a shudder at the touch, but doesn't dare to step away.

And he has absolutely no idea what Ashley might be referring to, but plunges ahead anyway because this guy's hunger is almost palpable. What happened here? He couldn't see any signs of violence outside...

"Perhaps I smell of my lady? She'll be upset if I don't return, too." The words may be too direct and too quick, but fear loosens the tongue well, as much as he tries to work on that.

[fatefully]

( forty minutes too long. noct had lasted a drowsy, ten minutes of dozing before he'd fallen asleep. when insomnia had first been taken and his father had passed, sleeping was all he'd wanted to do. anything else was too much effort. those times have passed, he doesn't sleep all day, but sleep is still something he can never seem to get enough of. now, however, he's grown used to another body being in the bed and he can never sleep well with it half empty.

so he begins to rouse, an easier feat than ordinary. his face scrunches, sleepily, at the cold arms wrapped around his waist and he shudders, goosebumps smattering across his flesh. he groans, a solid nonverbal complaint as far as his sleepy mind is concerned, but it's a gesture of pure love that he doesn't push prompto's ass right back out the bed. or a comment about his own laziness. )

Cold.

( despite the tremendous weight of his complaint and even being half-asleep, noct turns towards prompto without as much as open an eye, worming his own arms around him. protests or not, 'snuggle time' has become ingrained as part of his daily routine. just, ordinarily, prompto is a little warmer.

and he hasn't, usually, promised prompto more than sleepy cuddles. )

Gotou Toushirou | Touken Ranbu | M/M

[caretaller]

[inlay]

I'll warm right up!

[it had been easier for prompto to leave insomnia behind. he liked his parents — they were good people, they provided for him — but they were never really around when he needed them. the argentum home was always empty. if his parents are dead or alive, prompto doesn't know about it.

secretly, he thinks it's best if he just never finds out.

anyway, he's got a family of his own now — noct and the cat and the birds and the farm — and insomnia was a long time ago. suddenly, prompto thinks about ignis, and gladio. he wonders if he could get in touch. send a postcard, maybe.

despite noct's earlier teasing, prompto's not feeling too frisky. it's enough merely for him to lie in bed with his deliciously warm boyfriend-bestfriend and pepper his silly sleeping face with kisses. prompto gets in about six or seven before he stops and settles against the pillow, watching noctis with half-lidded eyes.]

Mmm. You're so nice and toasty.

[raventonbeauty]

The implication was lost on Ashley, direct though it was. He stepped around to the stranger's front, and took the letter, curious about it.

There were no lights inside the house, not a single lit candle, but Ashley was visible enough by moonlight. He was willowy and tall, with blade-sharp cheekbones honed even sharper by hunger. His eyes were dark and wide, and his skin was pale, unusually pale for the sunny shores of Carthage, even among the sun-loathing vampires. Gallic features, or Alban, perhaps.

Ashley had no difficulty with the formal language of the letter, but its meaning escaped him. Respectful salutations... sanctuary, guidance... but there was nothing about Arkady. "Will my brother be there?" Ashley asked, lifting his dark poppy eyes to the messenger's face.

There was something distant in those dark eyes. A hint of madness, born of solitude and neglect, or perhaps inherent. Ashley knew, and yet did not know, that his brother was dead.

[reunite]

"I don't know. The lady does not share all her knowledge and plans with me." The last is said tartly, a simple fact as much as it is a recoil at the reminder that is feelings towards her never receive more than a friendly word or two in return. But that is as it is; he'd seen it happen to others before, and figures that it means that she's at least honest with him. As much as it hurts.

The beauty of the man before him is not lost to him, nor is the coloration. Perhaps he has parentage from the same sunless North as he does on his mother's side, but he has to admit that for the first time, he suddenly comes to equate that kind of heritage with attraction. Ashley's features are much finer and pleasant on the eye than Northerners usually are.

...Yeah, he's going to shove that thought away as quickly and firmly as possible. Or it shoves itself away when he looks into those eyes. Never look a vampire in the eyes, he's been told - especially the enemies of Carthage tend to have mind controlling powers based in eye contact -, but it's kind of hard not to, here.

"If you visit her, you can ask it of her yourself."

[raventonbeauty]

Ashley gave a petulant little whimper in reply. It was not meant to whine or to coax, it was merely a sound of disappointment; vocalized, because Ashley had never been much inclined to conceal his emotions.

He was so very hungry, and the man in front of him was... enticing.

Ashley stepped close, curling his hands over his visitor's shoulders and nuzzling at his throat like a lover. His lips parted, fangs extended, breathing in the scent of him because he was so very hungry. "May I, please?" he asked.

Ashley had never learned any of the arts of control or persuasion. He'd been adored and neglected, treated like a pretty trinket, supplied with all the books and baubles that he desired, but never taught a single survival skill. The skills he had were self-taught, being intelligent enough to understand the effect that he had on people, especially as he grew into his beauty. His eyes held dangers aplenty, but all of them were due to a skillful flutter of lashes and an artful moue on full red lips. His beauty was the only weapon or tool that Ashley knew he had, and he used it without compunction.

[reunite]

Mago freezes at the approach, suppressing the instinct to throw both arms up and shove Ashley away - it would avail him nothing, in the end. He may be stronger and faster than a human, but he knows all too well that in a direct confrontation, especially with a hungry vampire, he would stand no chance.

The whole situation is also very, very surreal. The question almost sounds like a genuine request, like his words will make a difference. Will they? He can at least try.

"I would rather you don't, lord."

No, no, he can't say that, leave it at that. It might make him angry, and the calmer he is... How long since he had anything to drink? "And if you must, I would prefer that you take as little as possible. If I am too weak to walk," or dead, "tomorrow, I can neither bring a message nor you back to the city." Hopefully that will be heeded as a reasonable stipulation?

[directorofhydra]

Right?

[He returns with a snickers bar and offers it to her.] They've got cokes too.

Listen if there's anything you need while we're here...I'm here for you and him. You know that.

[raventonbeauty]

Ashley let go.

Eyes lowered with disappointment, he turned away from his visitor and went to a nearby couch, lounging across it with an air of miserable petulance. Ashley was used to gentle refusals like that one, and accepted them easily.

Not now, Ashley. I'm busy, Ashley. Go play somewhere else, Ashley.

Flat-out rejection was unknown to him, but a gentle refusal was something Ashley had learned to respect. Fuming and petulance in response only made people more resistant to future requests.

The letter, and the strong suggestion couched as a request that it contained, lay forgotten on the floor. Ashley had been distracted from the message, and the thought of leaving was alien to him. People cared for him. People made decisions on his behalf. It never occurred to him to seek his own safety or sustenance. Someone would come. Someone would care for him.

[reunite]

He really has no idea what to do with this. Any of this.

At first, he's just pleasantly surprised, glad that he somehow dodged that bullet. He just stands where he did when Ashley approached him, finding his calm again.

Then he waits for Ashley to get up again. When the silence stretches, he carefully asks: "Is there nobody else here?" Zyabqot had said nothing of that kind; she'd only mentioned that his sire had died. A household like this surely couldn't be without a number of household members, family and slaves and other staff?