Far from the mountains and the sea [OPEN]

[draculalite]

Who: Raphael "Jailbird" Sorel and YOU!
When: Any time in the next two weeks or so.
Where: Siren's Port Police Department, holding cells.
Summary: Raphael has been arrested awaiting trial for all those assaults. Want to visit him?
Warnings: A really pissed off vampire behind bars, chance of verbal abuse 100%.
Notes: The starter's in prose, but

Comments

Wednesday

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She's kept her eyes on him and on Amy for days now, making sure the girl has been eating. It was her father, though, that was refusing sustenance. It was driving her insane. Was he doing this to make the force look bad? Was he doing this to prove a point? She didn't know. She knew he was a proud individual but this was taking it too far.

She came down to the cell herself, finally, on Wednesday, though she had sent requests to see if he would eat more than once. All of them went ignored. She was getting reports of him laughing, cursing, and hissing at the other officers.

Re-l went to the cell, stopping on the edge of it. She looked at him. "You're still refusing to eat, Mr. Sorel?"

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Raphael's eyes glinted in the darkness of the cell-- the lights had not been turned up again, at his own request. As foolish as it made him feel to rot away in the dark like this, it was preferable to making the headache worse.

"As I told your officers and guards-- I do not want the blood of an animal," he said coolly.

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Better that he was comfortable. Frankly, she was disgusted that people were treating him like a monster...as though there were no vampires in the city besides him. She folded her arms across her chest and watched him.

"And if human blood was offered?"

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He sneered, his pale complexion and glowing eyes giving him an appearance that was far more monstrous, at least, than the ordinarily handsome noble usually seemed.

"In jest, or in earnest? It has been held over me as a dare between the guards. The fat one is frankly lucky I did not pull him through the bars and suck him dry."

That stirred a laugh out of him. "I assume he would taste like pork."

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Re-l glanced back to look at the guard in question, though he wasn't standing too close right now. He probably had enough of a warning to know he shouldn't be nearby. She frowned briefly. "I suppose he might."

Disgusting. She didn't want to think about it.

She turned back to him. "I meant in earnest. I'm not talking about jokes. Would you do it if it was truly offered?"

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He glared at her again, hating the way his stomach turned and his heart pounded in his ears at the mention of it.

"What do you think I would do?" he muttered irritably.

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"Refuse it, like you have been."

She wasn't stupid. But she watched him closely. She couldn't hear his stomach, but she could guess he was hungry. It was all a question of pride now.

"I don't mind offering my own, if you'll take it. As I would offer to Amy, too."

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"I have only refused that which will not help," Raphael said impatiently. "Do you believe I starve myself for the sake of stubbornness? Drinking the blood of cattle is no better than drinking seawater."

But he sat up, intrigued if she was really offering.

"So are you offering?"

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"People are ignorant of what you might actually need. Because you're a criminal, your status is even less than that of a Newcomer to them. I'm not proud of the police for this reason." But she also wasn't very well versed in what was needed for vampires. Amy relied on other means but her father refused to. She wasn't sure if that was because of breeding or something else.

Re-l nodded to his question.

"I am."

[draculalite]

He was watching her suspiciously, as though unwilling to believe she was telling the truth. Another part of him was sickened that he would be driven to accepting help like this, but yet another part of him knew the thirst would drive him mad if he didn't agree.

Slowly, he stood up and stepped towards the bars. "Then hurry," he croaked out.

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Surprised, she didn't respond for a moment. Then, she glanced back at the guards who were on duty down at the end of the hall, making sure they weren't interested in her or what she was doing. She undid the button on her wrist and pulled her sleeve back, then put her arm through the bars, wrist up.

It occurred to her, briefly, that she hadn't done this before. "Here," she said.

[draculalite]

He smoothed his fingers down the fair skin of her wrist, his own skin looking somehow even pale. The warmth and the softness of her flesh was enough to instantly sway him, with how loudly the thirst was already screaming in his head. He sank his teeth into her wrist and the first gush of blood on his tongue was sweeter than wine.

The ugly scars on his chest and back throbbed as the agony faded, the curse finally given what it wanted. The thrill of tasting suitable blood at last seemed to take him over, and his eyes fell closed as he drank greedily, with seemingly no regard to the living woman whose arm he clutched. Raphael seemed to forget she was even there, entranced, it seemed, right out of his humanity and into the mindset of a creature, with no sign of stopping.

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The pain was instantaneous...and then it disappeared within seconds. It wasn't any worse than if she was getting blood drawn, though he was drinking faster than a doctor might have allowed under normal circumstances. She leaned herself against the bars just for a moment, trying to keep her mind focused on the time and how long he was taking.

It was lucky that she could heal; her blood was already being replenished while he fed and she could feel her power stirring. It wasn't something to worry about. But as a few minutes passed and he wasn't stopping - and she became lightheaded - she finally decided to speak up.

"How much more do you need?" she asked.

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Raphael didn't answer, thoroughly engaged in drinking. It was the first taste of blood he'd gotten since the night of his arrest, and his body wanted all it could get to heal the wounds and calm the thirst.

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She gave him another minute, but then, frustrated that he wasn't answering, she tugged her arm as though to take it out of his grip. "Mr. Sorel," she warned.

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He hissed angrily, insistently digging his fangs further into her arm.