A Flood in the Life...

[feels_no_love]

Who: Dracula and YOU
What: Tormenting dreams and their bloody aftermath make for a moody, wounded but very introspective vampire.
Where: All over! See below.
When: Duration of the Flood
Warnings: torture (discussed), bloodthirst, possible mild violence

Dracula is having one Hell of a week. The Impaler gets a potent dose of comeuppance, in the form of

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Thursday Noon: Eighth Floor

[feels_no_love]

The screaming was muffled but agonized, and had continued on for a good half hour before it finally faded away-ending with a hoarsely shouted curse. Nothing smashed, nothing thrown; the gasps and groans and faint wet sounds of regeneration could only have been heard with an ear pressed to the door. Dracula finally emerged, throat raw, eyes haunted, moving stiffly, as if his body was sore all over. He needed blood, and was able-through what was left of his will-to turn his feet toward the dining area instead of stalking after the first person to walk by.

Thursday Noon: Eighth Floor

[majorum_pride]

Two doors down from Dracula's room there was a being with especially acute hearing, so there were a number of alarms raised by the sudden screaming.

He wasn't quite ready to take his chances with being a vampire's meal, but Rhade was a soldier and he couldn't shy away from a task because it was potentially dangerous. Especially if it might keep that vampire from harming anyone.

He stepped out into the hall about the same time as Dracula, his boneblades flared but otherwise even-tempered. "Having some difficulties?"

Thursday Noon: Eighth Floor

[feels_no_love]

[The vampire leaned heavily against the wall. His clothes smelled faintly of old, bitter blood. For a moment he couldn't speak; then he raised his head, eyes flashing faintly silver.]

I have been forced to heal from some...injuries. [He coughed harshly]. It was unexpected, but I have survived.

Thursday Noon: Eighth Floor

[majorum_pride]

[The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and his heart quickens with a faint surge of defensive adrenaline at the flash of silver, but his face remains impassive.]

Who caused the injuries? Some of the rooms have been infested.

Thursday Evening: Out and Around

[feels_no_love]

The overwhelming sleepiness that had nagged at him around three in the morning last night was bothering him now, and now that he knew something horrible might lie beyond succumbing he was doing his best to stay awake. This included an aimless walk through all the common areas of the ship, eventually ending up on deck.

[breakmychest]

Spike was, as far as he could tell, unaffected by the flood. That didn't stop him from being cautious, of course, but as the day went on and nothing happened, he started feeling slightly more confident, enough that he felt all right venturing out of his room. He still hadn't made up with Buffy, of course, but he could hardly blame that on the Barge.

He hadn't been looking for Dracula. If Dracula was still throwing around stories about Buffy, they hadn't been anywhere Spike could see, and Spike really wasn't about to start a fight without being provoked.

He wasn't working particularly hard to avoid Dracula either, though, so when he saw the other one coming down the hall, he didn't change direction or anything. Instead he frowned a little, looking the other vampire over. "You look a right mess today."

[feels_no_love]

Dracula coughed softly, reached into his mouth, and pulled out a long, wicked-looking splinter, which he scowled at before tossing over the side. His eyes were steady silver, but his expression kept that slack, exhausted look.

This one. Even his inward bravado, the internal monologue with which he'd protected his ego last conversation, was all but quiet now; he couldn't muster the strength. Very well. He's barely worth complaining over after...this.

"I endure. I always do."

"What do you want?" Blunt, but tired instead of defensive.

[breakmychest]

Spike shrugged. "Oh, all sorts of things. None of which have anything to do with you." The splinter is... unexpected. Has Dracula been practising stake-swallowing or something equally strange? Is this because of the flood? Though part of Spike wants to just laugh in his face and move on without caring, he's also kind of curious.

"What happened to you?"

Friday Morning: Laundry Room

[feels_no_love]

A faint smell of burning came from the Laundry Room. Head pounding, dizzy, disoriented, Dracula had wandered in with his electrocution wounds still healing and now looked around in blank confusion. Where were the kitchens? He was terribly thirsty.

Friday Meals: Kitchen/dining area

[feels_no_love]

It took him a while to get to each meal. For once, he seemed too exhausted to take his blood and leave, and so found a nearby seat to flop into while he swallowed his portion.

Friday Evening: Deck near the gardens

[feels_no_love]

He had never missed his Brides so much as right then: aching, dizzy, battered from two nights of suffering, still raw inside from dealing with the whole D situation, he craved the comfort of their presence. But instead, the stars for company, his hands clenched on the railing as he struggled to steady himself. It is true, one does not truly value someone until they are lost...