Sleeping with the enemy?

Sheriff's Estate - Marius' Room


Life in the Estate is not coming up roses. Marius is discovering that it's no longer as simple as 'Kill him'. Negotiations have to take place, words measured for truth, and then there are stages of punishment.
Marius is sick of it all.
There are only a couple of people that the veteran knows that he can trust, and he is pretty sure that trust travels the other way as well. Once given, his loyalty is unshaken. He does seem to have a slightly exaggerated idea of loyalty and disloyalty, however— which seems to be vexing more than a few people.
Regardless… in the search of truth, Marius told the young vampire that she would be accompanying him to his chamber to sleep the day. Whispers, accusations.. all mean nothing to Marius' ears until he determines what is true and what is not.
His room is plain; the walls are undecorated, though he is speaking to Isobel about tapestries. In the corner of the room, there is a pell and a 'dummy' that supports what looks to be chain-mail armour with a helm propped where a head would be.. and sashes of colour. As for weapons, those have been removed from the room for the day, to be returned after waking.
And so, for the first night, Marius stays awake as long as he can in an attempt to watch the younger claimed by the curse thay all bear. He, too, is claimed, and the motionless, dreamless sleep takes another.
He lies, hands clasped over his stomach, crystal blue eyes closed and totally motionless as his body waits for the sun to set.

Though it's hard to find anyone who'd believe it, Susan Baker is not an idiot. She didn't protest when given the announcement or try and argue with him, even if she couldn't exactly hide her distrust over the new sleeping arrangements, at first guessing at a hidden meaning behind it. But when Marius simply went to sleep, that took away most of that assumption. Still, she's chosing to lay herself down fully clothed, on the outermost edge of the bed without a continuous risk of falling out of it. At least she doesn't have to bother with a towel around the anklet now she's still wearing jeans. He can feel the mattress dent, the balance shift and all's quiet. Gently she lays hands on her stomach and stares at the ceiling. Now the waiting game begins.

These sleeping arrangements certainly require a change of his very early morning activities. Normally, it's across the border to find a meal and bring it down, but necessity requires his meal from a bottle. Not something that puts him in a good mood, much less an amourous one. No, Susan certainly is spared his advances.
He sleeps in his pants, no boots, no shirt. On his chest, there is a story of the ages of battles fought, wounds gained.. and, obviously, his victories.
The sun begins its descent in the sky, and the nocturnal animals begin to stir. The birds of the sky seek their nests for safety, and beyond the walls of the estate, and beyond the limits of the city, night begins to take form. There is a bright moon in its waning phase, having shown itself fully only days ago, and it lights the land, glowing brighter than the first evening star.
Some say that it's that evening star, Venus, that controls the life of the vampire as the moon controls the two-natured…

Staring at the ceiling, again. It's an easy thing to do after waking up. A tiny sniff to guess at her where abouts, uncertain at first, but slowly coming together in details, in the armour she can make out having only to twist her head, not lift it. And after a very long pause a twist to the other side to make out the whip. She's slept with one before, only that particular whip had a handle and nine tails. The difference is enough to have her lay stock still. Or for as long as possible, cause after a night pressing in the same place, her ankle with the bracelet /hurts/. About half an hour after she woke up, Susan can stand it no more and inch bu pained inch bends her leg, giving the back of it some air to breath. It costs her to hold every sign of pain in though, and her fists are clenched, nails pressing sharply into the skin. And that's maybe her first mistake. The sharp twang of blood travels the air from where skin was punctured and a drop of blood flows.

The setting sun brings life to those that are dead yet undying. It is like a switch pulled with Marius. One moment, he lies motionless, and the next heartbeat, his eyes open fully and he lies still to regain his senses.
With this rising, however, there's a bit more to it. There's the smell of blood.
Human blood. Vampire blood. The scent has a subtle difference, and in a sleep-addled mind, it takes a long moment to process the information. Fangs spring down as an automatic function, but then.. it's gone. The smell fades as it registers to his waking mind, and the fangs retract. It's not time..
Moving his jaw once soundlessly, he rises to an elbow, not yet taking a breath, even to speak. The Whip wakes, and is fully awake; his eyes are clear and deep, his expression.. knowing.
Now, he draws the breath to speak, "You are awake."

The northpole eyes dart his way the moment he shifts and the woman cringes, making herself that much smaller. No doubt she'd give anything to be small enough to slip out of this room unseen, under the door, up the stairs, out into the world. Instead, she gives the lightest of shrugs and tries with an innocent blink -that totally belies the previous caution- and a slender finger pointing up, then a hand arching through the air, to tell him that the sun's probably down then.

It's a rapid movement that brings Marius out of the bed and onto his feet. His gaze travels upwards briefly before he nods his understanding. "I see."
Crossing to the foot of the bed, he kneels down to pull the drawer out from beneath. A clean shirt is easily found, and pulls it on up over his head. It's a white, cotton shirt— "Get up. It is time to get something to eat." Normally, for him it would be 'someone', but that won't come until later for him. "There are things I must attend to today. I do not have the time to sit with you in your waking hours, but I will until the rest of the household rises." He cants his head before continuing, "Then, I will pass you off so that I may take care of my responsibilities." It's handy, her not having a tongue with which to respond!

He gets a glimpse of the anger starting to burn in her eyes but she's learned a thing or two since she first was dragged into this place and Sue's quick to turn her head and sit up, move her feet to the floor, all with a hint of demure. It could be mistaken for it, by lesser observants. She rises now, slowly. Hisses softly when a silver edge bites briefly. And goes about searching the few things she took with her. No clean shirt, but there is a pair of high heeled sandals which she now goes about putting on. Slowly. Even for her. Stalling?

Anger is fine as long as it is extinguished and she does exactly that which he commands. Everything has a place, though mention in the form of a warning is given. "Keep your face blank, kind. I do not wish to see your emotions worn, and the breathers do not deserve it."
Everything falling into place pleases the veteran greatly, though he's not naive enough to think that this isn't for show.. at least right now. "Keep your pain to yourself," Marius leans in to whisper in her ear, "because there are those that feed on those sounds and wish to hear more, at greater and greater intensity." Like him. At this moment, it annoys him.
"I will not repeat myself, however." Pulling out a pair of socks and his high, black leather boots, he finishes dressing quickly before he crosses to the door that leads to the corridor. It is unlocked quickly and easily, and the door pulled open. "Go." He'll be following.

If he wishes an icy, blank exterior, look who just got his wish. It's the whisper that freezes her movements, tying the leather straps. Susan forces her hands to continue with their task after he's moved away and she keeps her face away from him mostly on her way to the door. Click-click, but without the usual sashay. A hand smooths the hair in her neck down - covering what skin was left that could be offensive? Out then, hurrying past him.

Marius follows and closes the door behind them. It is up the stairs to the Vault for breakfast as they wait for the rest of the Estate to wake. The 'O' will keep him long enough to find a.. willing donor. That would be within the city limits, of course. Outside the city?
Shepherding Susan to the stairs and then up, making sure the door behind them has the proper safeguards to keep those still within its depths safe and secure.
Once up the stairs, Marius' path is to the refrigerator to dig out 'the good stuff'.

Sheriff's Estate - The Vault

This room covers almost the entire ground floor of this house. The majority is taken up by a stylish reception area; three chunky, white leather couches places in a neat U-shape, with a low table in the centre. Another corner holds a modern, black table, six comfortable chairs placed around it as though for conference. The final feature is a bar, well-equipped behind it and with a pair of chunky fridge-freezers, containing a variety of synthetic blood. In one corner is a staircase, leading upstairs. On the same wall is a door through to the only area on this floor not part of this room, where sits a small bathroom and the route downstairs, a featureless door, metal constructed and lockable from one side only, though plated to fit with the design of the house.
Three walls are white, the fourth covered in ceramic panels to give some colour to the place. The floor is tiled, in a pleasant, neutral shade. Windows at regular intervals stretch from floor to ceiling, concealed blackout blinds above them. One wall bears a huge flatscreen television, and one aware of their surroundings will spot the speakers concealed at various points in the room. The general feel of this area is a clinical style, a blank, neutral canvas for whatever happens to be going on. Those who know Will generally refer to this area as The Vault, for the round pillars that stretch up to the roof.

Susan doesn't even bother getting there first or attempt the crime of having good stuff. Instead she sits down on one of the comfortable chairs, all comfortably empty, and goes about checking her ankle. Or rather, the blisters and ruined skin of her ankle. She goes about it quietly enough, one small hiss that could easily have come from silver touching skin all that's hers by way of vocal comments. Tiredly she runs a hand through her hair, resting forehead on knee.

The refrigerator door is opened, a bag from the back removed, and Marius closes it once more. He's a little clumsy on opening the bag; he doesn't do it often, and some of it splashes onto his hand even as the bag is opened and poured rather messily into a mug. Licking his hand to remove the blood, he does it slowly, carefully.. and his eyes close ever so slightly to the flavour. Blood bank, sure.. cold, eeeh.. but it's not that crap. Sure, he'll drink it if he has to, but when he doesn't?
The microwave is turned on, and he watches the mug go around.. and around.. his fangs descending in anticipation of partially satiating his thirst.

The scent of it travels. The soft clicking of heels announces Susan on her way over, eyes glued to his hand, then the remainder of the bag. The blue eyes a shade darker now with longing, but she won't ask. Over. Her. Dead. Body.

When she asks. When she begs is when she may get to lick some of it off his hand. Not before.
Marius turns, his gaze flashing a warning. Feeding time at the zoo, and it's not always a pretty sight. The *ding* of the microwave sounds loud in the almost empty room, and he reaches in to get the mug. A finger is dipped in, and removed, the tip coated in the deep crimson color.
Stepping away from the microwave, Marius makes the room for the girl to retrieve her bottles. "You know what it will take."

Giving /wide/ berth, certainly after that warning, Susan frowns an shakes her head. Inserts a shrug. She seems honestly puzzled. Or is very carefully trying to hide how she really feels. She opens the fridge door and takes out two bottles at random. Uncaps, places in the microwave. And folds her arms defensively before her, trying really really really hard not to look at that finger. But each time she finds something to focus on, her eyes are irrevocably drawn back.

Marius takes his seat on the couch and first licks his blood-stained finger. Ah, how he wishes he could do this even now in the middle of a blood-stained floor. The licking of the single digit brings memories flooding in of every feeding after every battle fought.. the orgy of blood filling every last space within his body.. and then-some.
He has truly lived, and the time will come again when he can dine in the manner in which he desires. When he is finished with the girl.
The thought brings his gaze around to Susan at the microwave, and her bottles.. and finds her looking back at him.
Bringing the mug to his lips now, he looks away, and tilts the contents up. He's.. not very neat, and it splashes on his lips, on his face.. and once the drink is finished, it's.. obvious that he has no desire to waste a drop.. and he begins to clean himself, almost like a cat. Fingers pull the crimson liquid from this skin and into his mouth..

Stiffling a groan, Susan doesn't even realise she's licking her own lips when she sees him make such a mess of such a prefectly good drink. Manna compared to the stuff she has to drink - or starve. She finds herself having taken two steps towards him before the microwave's bell saves her the embarrassment. Mouthing a silent curse, she spins on the ball of a foot and angrily yanks open the door to pull out the bottles. So there's two abiding their time, only her abiding will be longer, so much longer. And she'll hate every minute of it, every hour she can't even bite down a willing drug-riddled fangbanger.

Marius hasn't missed other… physical pleasures simply because it is so easy to lose himself in the glory that is blood. Human blood. How it flows, how it cools and thickens even as draw after draw from the throat encourages it out. The slickness of it against his skin, his throat.. an orgy of pleasure that has absolutely nothing to do with sex.
The screams of his victims only bring the orgy to a higher level; pleas, cries, begging for mercy that will never come sound as music in his ears. He longs for the day when his reins are loosened and he's given his head. While others go for the pleasures of the flesh, those who know Marius can be assured that blood will flow in great quantities..
Every moment of the reverie sends the moon higher in the sky and the sun lower in the horizon. Soon enough, the rest of the estate wakens, and pausing in his cleaning, Marius rises to his feet abruptly. "I am done. Before dawn, I will return for you and again, you will sleep in my room." Now, it's time to begin his night..

~ FIN ~

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