Temperance
"House, we need to talk about Jimmy," Patrick stated after the joint feeding and led his Other Father out of the living room. "What's there to talk about?" The doctor inquired while wiping his mouth clear of any remaining red stains. "I don't think your newest creation is cut out to be what you've made him," Jane replied, showing slight concern for his young sibling, "He lacks blood lust. In fact, I think what just happened was a front."
"Lucky him then," House retorted; he was thirsty but not blind. When Jane started out, as with any other newborn, tended to hesitate when it came to feed for the first few months. But Jimmy was undergoing a much more problematic learning curve than anyone else in the average. "He was a priest before I turned him; he was a righteous man." "No," his oldest Child interrupted, sticking his finger out, "he was a religious man. James' carrying a cross on his back but it's not because he pities the downtrodden. You know as well as I do that not all religious men are saints." House's eyes darkened; he suddenly remembered the reason he'd actually come to Chicago in the first place.
"I'll try to find out-" Greg was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of violent retching from the other room. "Novak?!" Both vampires rushed through the oak doors and found the beautiful priest on all fours, mouth tarnished by old blood. "I can't do this...I can't do it!" he muttered to himself, unable to deal with the horror.
"Jimmy? What are you talking about?" House asked rather confused. "I can't pretend to be a killer! You two, you make it look so easy but you've been at this game for so long, you've forgotten that these are people!" Jimmy screamed, "I'm thankful for this second life, truly I am...but I can't perpetuate this vicious cycle!" "Killing begets killing, James," Jane assured him from past experience. "I doubt that! How would you know if we can survive on food again? Have you ever tried?" Novak barked, sparking a back and forth the two blood brothers. "Try it and see how long it takes for you to have a complete mental break. I'll give you two weeks because I'm generous."
"Both of you, KINDLY SHUT UP!" House roared between them, flashing red eyes to Jane as a scolding mechanism and to remind him who was the alpha in the trio. "Jimmy, vampires are meant to drink from Man; our biology demands it but if you think there's an alternative, try it. But you've made this bed, learn to lie on it," he commanded, "And Jane, you should know better than alienating those who have no problems with you." Don't make me punish you...you should be above this behavior, Gregory added telepathically, getting an annoyed side glance from his Red Riding Hood.
As he left the room for those two to fight amongst themselves, House hissed; they got lucky their Other Father had been as kind as he was. Any other elder and Jane would have his head chopped off cleanly from his neck and Jimmy would've been locked in a room, possibly with a newly formed family just to add salt to the psychological wounds. No, he wasn't like the other vampires and he prided himself for it: he loved his children just the right amount...not too little to assign such harsh punishment but not too much to be obsessed with them. Hearing them squabble made Gregory unveil his sleeve and stare at that old burn scar on his forearm with a matching one on his right thigh. These were Tritter's physical legacy along with a bloodlust with almost no peer.
His own father made children on whims: she'd have the right eye symmetry, he'd have a particular mole he liked. But the treatment afterward was the same: torture. David would be subtle in his voice as he would force his kin to devour children or face a moment in the Sun for insubordination. Because House refused to drink the blood of a little girl, one of Tritter's favorites chained him to a wall and made it so his leg got exposure. The pain was unforgettable; the doctor lost his voice for a second from screaming, keeping that coven awake.
But the one on House's forearm, that one took place the night before he killed Tritter. Waste not, want not, forever rang in his mind; he had gotten his Maker his favorite prostitute but had purposely neglected to knock her out with the right amount of chloroform. The moment that woman woke up, Tritter was in the middle of raping her and she fought back. Needless to say, the blood supply was wasted when the corrupt vampire was forced to break her neck.
"You want to be wasteful then, are you Gregory?" Tritter hissed under his breath. "You do a fine job yourself, ingrate," the doctor, still 20 years into his new life, shot back. "Right," was the last thing David said before he used his unnatural strength to shove his protege's forearm into a candle's flame. "Waste not, want not." This was the last straw for House; he was going to murder his Master, no matter the consequences. The next day, House managed to avoid all sun rays, carrying a hatchet with him. It took less than a second: he swung Tritter's coffin open and with a surgical swing, cut off his head.
"Lucky him then," House retorted; he was thirsty but not blind. When Jane started out, as with any other newborn, tended to hesitate when it came to feed for the first few months. But Jimmy was undergoing a much more problematic learning curve than anyone else in the average. "He was a priest before I turned him; he was a righteous man." "No," his oldest Child interrupted, sticking his finger out, "he was a religious man. James' carrying a cross on his back but it's not because he pities the downtrodden. You know as well as I do that not all religious men are saints." House's eyes darkened; he suddenly remembered the reason he'd actually come to Chicago in the first place.
"I'll try to find out-" Greg was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of violent retching from the other room. "Novak?!" Both vampires rushed through the oak doors and found the beautiful priest on all fours, mouth tarnished by old blood. "I can't do this...I can't do it!" he muttered to himself, unable to deal with the horror.
"Jimmy? What are you talking about?" House asked rather confused. "I can't pretend to be a killer! You two, you make it look so easy but you've been at this game for so long, you've forgotten that these are people!" Jimmy screamed, "I'm thankful for this second life, truly I am...but I can't perpetuate this vicious cycle!" "Killing begets killing, James," Jane assured him from past experience. "I doubt that! How would you know if we can survive on food again? Have you ever tried?" Novak barked, sparking a back and forth the two blood brothers. "Try it and see how long it takes for you to have a complete mental break. I'll give you two weeks because I'm generous."
"Both of you, KINDLY SHUT UP!" House roared between them, flashing red eyes to Jane as a scolding mechanism and to remind him who was the alpha in the trio. "Jimmy, vampires are meant to drink from Man; our biology demands it but if you think there's an alternative, try it. But you've made this bed, learn to lie on it," he commanded, "And Jane, you should know better than alienating those who have no problems with you." Don't make me punish you...you should be above this behavior, Gregory added telepathically, getting an annoyed side glance from his Red Riding Hood.
As he left the room for those two to fight amongst themselves, House hissed; they got lucky their Other Father had been as kind as he was. Any other elder and Jane would have his head chopped off cleanly from his neck and Jimmy would've been locked in a room, possibly with a newly formed family just to add salt to the psychological wounds. No, he wasn't like the other vampires and he prided himself for it: he loved his children just the right amount...not too little to assign such harsh punishment but not too much to be obsessed with them. Hearing them squabble made Gregory unveil his sleeve and stare at that old burn scar on his forearm with a matching one on his right thigh. These were Tritter's physical legacy along with a bloodlust with almost no peer.
His own father made children on whims: she'd have the right eye symmetry, he'd have a particular mole he liked. But the treatment afterward was the same: torture. David would be subtle in his voice as he would force his kin to devour children or face a moment in the Sun for insubordination. Because House refused to drink the blood of a little girl, one of Tritter's favorites chained him to a wall and made it so his leg got exposure. The pain was unforgettable; the doctor lost his voice for a second from screaming, keeping that coven awake.
But the one on House's forearm, that one took place the night before he killed Tritter. Waste not, want not, forever rang in his mind; he had gotten his Maker his favorite prostitute but had purposely neglected to knock her out with the right amount of chloroform. The moment that woman woke up, Tritter was in the middle of raping her and she fought back. Needless to say, the blood supply was wasted when the corrupt vampire was forced to break her neck.
"You want to be wasteful then, are you Gregory?" Tritter hissed under his breath. "You do a fine job yourself, ingrate," the doctor, still 20 years into his new life, shot back. "Right," was the last thing David said before he used his unnatural strength to shove his protege's forearm into a candle's flame. "Waste not, want not." This was the last straw for House; he was going to murder his Master, no matter the consequences. The next day, House managed to avoid all sun rays, carrying a hatchet with him. It took less than a second: he swung Tritter's coffin open and with a surgical swing, cut off his head.