† And the more I see the less I like.
Characters: lordistic & likeagoodson
Setting/Location: the shadowsJust outside the Caravan.
Date & Time: Day 10, Afternoon
Warnings: BLOOD?
Summary: With Johnny gone and lacking food, Charley drives himself to the brink of hunger. A certain someone ends up in the way.
He'd been resisting the pressure in his stomach, head, and heart for quite some time now. Since the evening he'd gone to retrieve Master, finding his room empty and nothing of his presense elsewhere. Charley did not like the weakening of his resolve, especially when Sacra had not found a single clue either. He hadn't slept properly, the edges of his faith were frayed, and--
He was hungry.
The taste of old blood built in the back of his throat, a sharp contrast to the emptiness in his belly, and he staggered a little as he exited the Caravan. Hand over his mouth, pressing it hard to smother himself. He did not look at anyone either; his fear of attacking them had become too great to take the chance. The saliva flowed, fangs sharp as a tooth pricked his lip. His own blood did nothing for him. He needed him. He missed...
"Master." His voice wavered even as he stepped into the shadows cast by their traveling home. He had no sense of time, the burn in his eyes giving way to tears. Anxious, starving. Charley hadn't had a proper thought for at least three days now, keeping his focus on not wanting to kill anyone. His own morals were stretched. God... Was he going to die?
Charley closed his eyes, smothering what sounds did escape him as he wiped at his face. There was no strength left in him. Not to care, not to pay enough attention to the fact he had turned only to bump into someone.
Setting/Location: the shadowsJust outside the Caravan.
Date & Time: Day 10, Afternoon
Warnings: BLOOD?
Summary: With Johnny gone and lacking food, Charley drives himself to the brink of hunger. A certain someone ends up in the way.
He'd been resisting the pressure in his stomach, head, and heart for quite some time now. Since the evening he'd gone to retrieve Master, finding his room empty and nothing of his presense elsewhere. Charley did not like the weakening of his resolve, especially when Sacra had not found a single clue either. He hadn't slept properly, the edges of his faith were frayed, and--
He was hungry.
The taste of old blood built in the back of his throat, a sharp contrast to the emptiness in his belly, and he staggered a little as he exited the Caravan. Hand over his mouth, pressing it hard to smother himself. He did not look at anyone either; his fear of attacking them had become too great to take the chance. The saliva flowed, fangs sharp as a tooth pricked his lip. His own blood did nothing for him. He needed him. He missed...
"Master." His voice wavered even as he stepped into the shadows cast by their traveling home. He had no sense of time, the burn in his eyes giving way to tears. Anxious, starving. Charley hadn't had a proper thought for at least three days now, keeping his focus on not wanting to kill anyone. His own morals were stretched. God... Was he going to die?
Charley closed his eyes, smothering what sounds did escape him as he wiped at his face. There was no strength left in him. Not to care, not to pay enough attention to the fact he had turned only to bump into someone.