Application: Ivy Tamwood (Kim Harrisons 'Rachel Morgan' series)
((OOC Note: Ivy is a living vampire, which means that she was born with the vampire virus, but she is not truly undead. Nonetheless, other vampires would be able to sense it - and other magically inclined people, too. So feel free to notice away :P))There were very few things that Ivy Tamwood expected to be confronted with as soon as she staggered
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Jesus fucking Christ!
It wasn't often that somebody got the one-up on Dean. It wasn't easy to catch him off-guard anymore, not with how on-edge he'd taught himself to be. Granted, he'd been a little out of practice since he'd come to Hogwarts - lack of anything to fight? HAH. And he'd been been talking about wanting a bit of confrontation now and again. Looks like he got it, now. In fucking excess.
"Fucking hell, what the Christ are you doing?" Dean automatically barked, eyes widening a bit as her lip curved up in the slightest. Jesus, she was a vampire. For things that were claimed to be extinct, they sure showed up way fucking more than he could deal with, yes, thank you. Those weren't descending teeth, though, those were freaking... fangs. The hell?
She said Rachel's name, though, and he froze, automatically, eyes trained onto Ivy. ...A vampire? ...Rachel's vampire? Oh, shit. "The hell is that to you?" he automatically replied in turn, stubbornly, and he'd really meant for that to sound WAY more manly, but with a hand around his throat? It was a bit difficult. Still, his eyebrows slanted downwards, and now he was just pissed off. This was inconvenient. But then so was being strangled by a vampire, so!
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At the complete lack of a worthwhile and useful answer, Ivy snarled, the sound low and dangerous, rumbling from the back of her throat. This human dared to be a smart-ass? He wasn't getting any mercy from her.
"It's everything to me," she hissed, meeting his stare with a black one of her own. Tightening her grip slightly, Ivy leaned closer into his personal space and took a deep breath. Yes, underneath his scent there was definitely Rachel - that redwood was unmistakable. Unfortunately, it made her vampire instincts clamor in rage. Not that she was thinking that it was unfortunate right now.
Making no move to back off, Ivy narrowed her eyes, sharpening her glare. "I should be asking, what is it to you, bloodsack?"
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Oh, Jesus Christ. That Kate bitch, when she'd had him by the jaw? That wasn't scary. He could handle vampires. A decapitation and you're out of there. The only thing simpler was maybe a silver bullet to something's heart. But shit, this chick was freaking him out! And he'd never admit to it aloud, but damn!
Everything? Were her and Rachel...? Shit! Okay, lots of new thoughts whirling through his head right. Rachel was a lesbian, she was dating a vampire, and Dean had just fucked up his opportunities for a threesome. Fa~antastic. He raised both brows to Ivy, grabbing at her arm and narrowing his eyes.
And now was the money question. Weeks of telling himself Rachel was just another notch in his bedpost, wasted to appease a vampire's temper? "Oh, she's somethin', all right," he mumbled in a growl of a voice, fixing a hardened gaze onto Ivy. Apparently he was going for such.
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The grab at her arm didn't make her so much as flinch - she actually seemed to relish the contact, feeling Dean's quick heartbeat through his grip. "I bet she is," Ivy purred, pressing in closer until her lips were barely an inch away from brushing his jaw.
"I bet you couldn't resist, could you? You humans are all the same, wandering around and screwing everything that will have you." Ivy paused, and cocked her head, studying him even though she was really too close to do so. "And it's no wonder she picked you. I do like them tall, I think Rachel does too."
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He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as she leaned in, though, real close, and lips trailing over his skin. Her voice sounding like velvet, and maybe that was it. That there was that weird sort of seductive edge to her, that even when he was practically tucking his metaphorical tail between his legs and scampering, she still managed to convey a provocative side to him. What the hell?
"Sorry, hun," he scoffed in return, nonetheless, his eyes darkening on their own accord to a pissed off sort of mossy green. "Guess I draw the line at necrophilia." Yes, he'd totally used that line before. Damn, he was slumming. But he didn't know the details of Ivy being a living vampire. That alone was lost on him. A vampire who didn't ingest blood? At all? Lenore and her nest, they'd refrained from human blood, but they'd still needed cow's blood to live. The different worlds, all the seperate supernatural knowledge coming together... it was fucking with his head, royally.
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Why wasn't he struggling? She was only pulling the tiniest bit of an aura, and there was something about him that said that he was actually used to dealing with vampires. A few, at least. She was bespelling him, so why - wait, Ivy, that was a rational line of thought. Why wasn't he struggling to get away from being a vampire's next meal? Shit. Next meal. Shit. Forcing herself to draw back slightly, Ivy looked pained, though her hand was still clamped around his throat.
"Will you stop being so scared, snack?" She snapped, trying to fight down her instincts. It wasn't easy, not when this was personally satisfying to freak the hell out of the human who had been with Rachel. "I'm non-practicing, which means I don't actually want to drink your blood. Either push me away or just shut up and calm down."
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This didn't make a damn piece of sense. Living vampire? What the FUCK was a living vampire? There was something in Dean's eyes that was entirely unsettled with this new piece of knowledge, that made his eyes flash in Ivy's general direction, narrowing down to dangerous slits and trying to decide her motives.
Why wasn't he trying to get away? Well, hell. No-kill rules might have something to do with anything. Any other place, if she'd tried the same thing? That knife in his boot might have only had a five-inch blade, but he'd find some way to make a decapitation. A messy way, likely, but some way. But when you couldn't just kill a vampire for strangling you, slamming you to a wall, when she couldn't kill you? Made things a bit less scary, in retrospect.
Plus, well... She knew Rachel. And maybe he had some fleeting moment in which he thought that, hey, Rachel might not be too happy that he was killed by one of her friends.
Then again, maybe she wouldn't even bat a fucking eye.
"Non-practicing?" Okay, that, Dean DID push her away, eyebrows furrowing into full-out confusion now. "Last I checked, you know, you guys kinda have to live off blood, sweetheart, so, what the hell's it for you again? Cow's blood? Maybe stray cats, huh? Because, you know, otherwise, can't see why you wouldn't be standin' right now."
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"Clearly you're an expert on every single variation of vampire there is," Ivy snapped, temper still holding strong. She was still focusing on the whole 'sleeping with Rachel' thing, even if she had physically backed off.
Briefly, she weighed up if it was really worth it trying to explain to him what a living vampire was. Maybe not - he seemed pretty set on not believing her.
"Maybe you can just ask Rachel." She didn't mean for that to sound spiteful, but... well, okay, she really did. This non-logical anger was too confusing for her to hold back. "Is she taking you on the little adventures that she won't even admit to me are happening?"
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"Yeah, normally, I don't have to," Dean automatically sniped in return, eying Ivy with a newfound wariness to his features. He didn't mean to be so tense with her, and, you know, maybe that was just his bestest of buddies showing up a few days before. His shoulders were drawn into straight, rigid lines, and anybody who knew Dean could tell you that it was a universal sign of his discomfort. He was on edge.
But then, maybe that came with not knowing what the hell he was dealing with here. "See, normally," he continued in a poisonous voice, cocking his head a bit and narrowing his eyes to her. "I only got one kind of vampire to think of. Those're mostly extinct and, you know, they're undead. Plain and simple. You, though, well, sweetheart, guess I'm just not knowin' what the hell to expect here."
And what was that? What? She wasn't really digging into discrepancies about Rachel right now, right? "She's been here for goin' on five or months, you know," he replied curtly, furrowing his brows. "Think she wasn't plannin' on takin' up any gigs? Christ, she just needed my help for one."
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But the news that Rachel had been taking him on runs was disarming, to say the least. Ire flared in her expression, concealing the deep hurt. She and Rachel had worked together for years - and now this guy was getting trusted to be her backup, when Ivy wasn't being told a single detail? One of the reasons that Ivy was so possessive of Rachel was that Rachel trusted her, a rare quality, and Ivy didn't want to let that go. If she started trusting others, Ivy might get pushed to the backburner.
Taking another few steps back to sit on the desk, Ivy crossed her legs and smoothed the robe over her thighs, letting the simple action distract her for a moment. Had this human replaced her? "What kind of gigs?" She asked conversationally, as if it meant nothing to her. As if she hadn't been threatening to kill Dean out of jealousy just a few minutes ago.
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Actually, no. He had more at stake with this girl. Because if this ended the bad, bad way that he was foreseeing in the future, here, then, no, he wouldn't be dying. And that would be worse. Heh. Cursed to walk for the rest of forever as a blood-sucking fuckface. Awesome.
Uh oh. This vampire was getting all serene. Crossing her legs and looking like the calm before the storm. He didn't step any closer, hands swiping subconsciously at his jeans as he fixed her with an uneasy sort of stare. Was she really playing things off like she hadn't just slammed him to the wall and threatened to eat his throat out? No, really? Christ. He was going to have to have a... TALK with Rachel once he was done with this chick.
"Just... I don't know, a gig," he replied shortly, furrowing his eyebrows. "Somethin' drainin' blood of a bunch of people. She didn't know what the hell it was, called me in to help her out. 'S kind of my job." Leaving out the part where the creature in question was sent to tear Rachel's intestines out by a gang of werewolves, of course. That part was hardly mentionable. Neither was the fact that she'd lost so much blood she'd gone into severe shock and passed out. Nope. Not at all.
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Ivy could get dangerous both when she wanted to, and when she didn't want to. There could be vamping out, or crotch kicking, seduction, or bitch slaps (many people underestimate the power of a good bitch slap) - but ironically enough, Ivy at her most dangerous was when she was calm. Or, apparently calm. Because it meant that she was desperately trying to fight back the vampire instincts.
Swinging one leg casually, Ivy dropped her gaze from the ceiling and fixed on Dean, taking on the look that most vampires seemed to perfect. Serene, confident, and most of all, superior.
"If it's your job, then you should know by that sticking around me any longer is just going to lead to a lot of pain for you," she said calmly. "Both you and I don't want that, and... neither does Rachel." Her voice cracked slightly, showing that the calmness was indeed just a facade. "I really don't want to bite you, all appearances aside."
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See, that serenity? Was exactly what Dean was worried about. At least the few vampires he'd seen in his life, between Lenore and her kind of quiet confidence of an exterior and Kate, the vampire who had kind of, you know, grabbed him by the cheeks, slammed him against a car and stuck her tongue down his throat, much to his dislike - hey, she'd been hot, but no necrophilia for Dean, yes, thanks - well... Vampires had just never felt a need to put up a guise in front of him. Shit, they were the Winchesters, big hunters in that world. Infamous amongst supernatural creatures. Why put up a facade to try to fool them? They could see through it.
Exactly the reason why Ivy was tensing him up like nobody's business at the moment.
"For me?" he prompted back to Ivy, eyebrow raised as he tugged the chair a safe distance away from the vampire, sitting himself backwards on the thing and cocking his head at her. "See, I doubt it. Because, uh." He moved his knife from his boot in one swift movement, waggling it in her general direction and raising her eyebrows. "I know exactly what the hell makes you bastards tick, and I definitely know how to stop that." Vampires? Decapitation. Easier said than done. But she was right. Rachel wouldn't exactly want her ... best friend? Girlfriend? Fuckbuddy? Whatever Ivy was, to be getting in some kind of crazy fight with the guy she'd just gone on a run with the week or so before, and Dean shoved his knife back into his boot, a bit disgruntled. Fine.
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