Lurking the Halls (8/?)

[blimeyjamwalls]

((ooc: backdated to late in the event, because I'm a massive slowcoach.))

Daniel looks perfectly human. This means absolutely nothing.

He isn't accustomed to being this hungry. He can only guess at how well he ate back on Earth, but in Wonderland his board has always been amply provided for, so the sudden pangs of what honest-to-God feels like

Comments

[angel_junk]

[ By the third day Bhamba has finally had a change of heart. Viciously attacking vampires with his futuristic arsenal is not the answer.

Capturing and studying them will work out so much better!

At this moment he stands in one of the corridors, whistling to himself, painting a conspicuously perfect picture of a hapless victim. ]

[blimeyjamwalls]

[ Bhamba...

Bhamba does not literally smell like a three-course meal, skilfully prepared from the finest ingredients, soup and steak and fresh rich dessert. But he has the same effect on Daniel that that meal might have on a starving man.

Most people are elsewhere or staying wisely in their rooms; Bhamba is the first human Daniel has met. He means to call out, greet him, survivor to survivor. He doesn't quite realise that instead, he's standing, staring, with his eyes riveted and his mouth slightly open. ]

[angel_junk]

[ Every once in a while Bhamba turns on the spot. One such while is now.

Spotting Daniel he lifts his chin and waves cheerfully. ]

Hello, fellow human being!

[blimeyjamwalls]

[ Being addressed directly brings him back a little, at least enough to reply - although it's entirely possible that he's still staring a little too intensely at Bhamba. The man's pulse is a warm, steady beat that fills up Daniel's ears and head. ]

Ah... hello.

[dashboardlite]

Since he started his hunting ventures after getting a standard donor's pint sucked out of him by Philip, Dean's been eager to get back into the game and do some quality damage to whatever vampires are making bad choices and chewing on jugulars. So far, there's been a disappointing lack of homicidal bloodsuckers in the general vicinity.

But he has his own soundtrack in his head and a machete sheathed at his side, and a whole lotta pent-up energy that could really use some healthy release.

Telling the difference between vampire and human is hard when they're all different types and the whole damn mansion smells like blood and the supernatural, but they usually pick up his scent from down the hall.

Dean may or may not have unwrapped the bandage from the ugly wound on his arm, left behind by Philip's breakfast buffet extravaganza.

[blimeyjamwalls]

Daniel had not actually decided to suck anybody's blood. He was putting it off and putting it off, thinking around the problem, thinking of anything but the problem, considering questions of philosophy and identity and the human soul, and when all else failed, dragging his feet like a sullen child.

Then the smell of blood hits him, so strong that he has to stop walking for a moment. It's thick and hot and savoury. It's free of skin or fabric, so heavy on the air that it could almost be on his tongue right now.

He drags in a long, shuddering breath. The smell beckons from down the corridor. He looks up, and already registers the figure some way down it as human bloodsource veinspumpingflowing before he registers him as Dean.

There's a large, pungently open wound on Dean's arm. Daniel stops recognising a choice.

He runs forward. With no element of surprise, it's a poor attack, but he's stupid with hunger. He runs, fangs already bristling from his mouth.

I'm sorry, Bhamba, but this is how you do it.

[dashboardlite]

It might have been a stupid idea to walk around with a gaping wound on his forearm, but since when has Dean made smart choices? Instead of lurking and stalking inconspicuously, he'd much rather keep up his streak of bad moves that end in bodily harm. Contrary to popular belief, the physical pain makes him feel alive, and his pulse is already racing. Dean turns down one corridor into a larger hallway and stops.

Someone is at the far end. Wearing a familiar waistcoat and a stupid-looking an aristocratic-looking tie. Dean lifts his arm in greeting, sporting a crooked smile and a "Hey, Dan-" that's cut short as the man starts sprinting towards him like a marathon runner on their last hundred yards.

"...oh, come on," Dean groans, fingertips resting on the handle of his machete. He was asking for it, he knows, by luring vampires in with his own blood, but he wasn't expecting an attack by two limey fruitcakes in the span of three days. Dean doesn't have any intention of hurting Daniel, either, but he won't hesitate to defend himself

[blimeyjamwalls]

He brings it on. Daniel's got muscle even without the enhanced PCP vampire strength, so his tackle is pretty impressive. His gums ache with lengthening teeth.

He fixes on the injury, on the ragged throb of blood running through and past it, and lunges for it jaws-first.