InsaneJournal

RP Log: Morgan, Nick
Who: Morgan MacDougal, Nick Harrow
When: BACKDATED to Sunday, 14th February 1980
Where: Caer Dubh
What: They have a conversation about vampires. :|
Rating: PG

Nick waited for Morgan to return home with held breath. Considering the fact he did not need to breathe, this fact was likely more literal than one might have first suspected. He was jittery, upset, and far too focused. The tap dripping from the water faucet bothered him. Every second lasted several lifetimes. Where was she? She was a witch, for God's sakes. She should've been here in a split-second. Nick was generally reasonable, stoic, and careful. But Caradoc Dearborn and Charity Burbage were dead, and here he was, some endless creature with the world laid out before him like a meal on a plate. What had he to fear, he might have asked, had it not been for Jehovah Emmerdale's untimely death, had it not been for the werewolves, so young and foolish and so like him all of four hundred years before. The world was a dark and fearsome forest, and Morgan should've been here by now, and all the vampiric sense in the world didn't matter when there was nothing for him to do but sit and wait for her to arrive. Unfortunately, Morgan couldn't just flip the two-fingered salute and walk out the door. There was some protocol, and then she had to gather up her things. Once all that was done, she had to make it to the Floo, which was backed up - as usual. Then, her journal went off the second she set foot in the castle, and it was Nick. Nick with his usual words of love, except she sensed some urgency behind it. A quick note saw her running down the corridors toward his side of the castle. He heard her footsteps coming long before any normal person might have. He was already standing, but now he tossed open the door to the sitting room he was in and trotted out to the hallway just in time to meet her. Nick wasted no time; her heartbeat, the light scent of tears and sweat, the slight intake of breath as he pulled her against him - these were all things he cherished, and arms tight around her, he kissed her ear and whispered that he loved her. It seemed a foolish, sentimental thing to say and mattered little when two of their friends were dead. But there was nothing else to say, nothing but that at all. And that was all it took for Morgan to break into a fresh round of tears. Her arms might have crushed nearly anyone else when they tightened, but not Nick. It was one of the shallower things that Morgan adored about her boyfriend. Gulping for air, she blubbered nonsense; there wasn't much to say really anyway. Except amidst the rambling, she sobbed that she loved him too. After a bit of time, she reluctantly pulled away for some air. Unlike Nick, she needed the oxygen. "Fuck, I don't even know what to say anymore. That's three in two weeks." "I know," he murmured, stricken. He'd been closer to Charity than Caradoc, but that meant little. It was always a shock when people were there one moment and gone the next, especially to someone who was used to his immediate friends living... well, forever. "I'm so sorry that you had to be there to identify them, love. Are you-- bloody hell, do you need to sit?" he asked, belatedly remembering his manners after more-or-less tackling his girlfriend. "Can I fetch you anything? Water? Smelling salts? Angus has smelling salts, I think." Morgan had to laugh at that, a laugh born of bitterness and shock rather than anything mirth. The palms of her hands ran across her face to wipe the ruddy tears from her eyes. Morgan wasn't sure why this hit her so hard; all she could think was that she'd been called out, and there had been nothing for her to do - nothing but checking pulses anyway - and she'd known them. She hadn't seen Benjy's body, and maybe the absence of any wounds made it hard to stomach. "Smelling salts? You think I'm going to faint or something?" Morgan arranged her mouth into something like a smile. "I should hit you for that." But she wasn't going to, and it wasn't even in her, at the moment, to pretend. His own sort-of smile played off of hers, and he ushered her into the sitting room. Even if Morgan was as strong as an ox, he wanted to get her somewhere where they could just sit. It was still too new to fathom that they'd seen the last shy grin of Charity's, or the last stoic eyebrow-raise of Caradoc's. There would be services, he knew, and they'd likely be in the daylight. He'd stop by after nightfall to have his last visitation, he thought. Off of Morgan's question, he shook his head. "No, I don't think you're going to faint. But it's very possible that I might." A silly joke, but the atmosphere was still verging on the edge of hysteria, and something needed to be done. "Should I get get a fan for you?" Morgan asked, flopping heavily onto the couch, and since her fingers were entwined with Nick's, that meant he had to sit too. Well, not necessarily, he could easily rip her arm off just by standing there. Not that she thought he would, she mused for want of anything to think about that wasn't just more death. Which was ironic, given that he was technically dead. "Shit's getting a little too real, too close, you know?" "I know," Nick answered quietly. He couldn't think of anything to say as he took a careful seat beside her. He knew that he found comfort in prayer, but even that failed him at times. He thought that he could understand why Gabrielle had left. At the time he'd thought her cowardly, but now... Why be a creature of eternity when everyone around you was dying? "Morgan," he said, taking a careful breath. "I have to ask you something unpleasant. But it should be asked and discussed now, because otherwise, should it come to it, I... well..." Morgan found herself drawing in a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever else was to come out of Nick's mouth. Should it come to it, and that was enough to put in mind what he was going to say, what subject he was going to broach. Morgan glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and nodded. "Should it come to...?" Nick took a breath that he didn't need. He sometimes did that when upset or distracted. Silly habit. "If you're injured," he said softly, "and you are near death but are, for whatever reason, unable to display your wishes - would you prefer to die or would you prefer to be turned?" A seemingly simple question, and no room for variations or hesitations. Merlin knew that Nick didn't want to think about it, but there was little to be done. Yes, that was exactly what she'd thought he was going to ask, or rather a very close version of it anyway. Morgan balled her hands into fists, rested them on her knees and turned to look at him. It took her another moment to actually formulate a reply. "Do it. If I'm near death and can't answer, do it. If I'd rather die, I can walk out into the sun the next day." He regarded her, his face curiously blank. Nick made a living off of not judging people, and he certainly wouldn't know. He hadn't chosen this life at first, but had grown to it, and should the day come where he no longer wanted it, he would meet the sunrise. "You'd be more helpful alive - as it were - than dead in the war effort," he agreed slowly. "And you would still be a witch." A mild smile. "You could definitely kick my arse, at that juncture." "Kicking your arse would be the only reason for being turned, you know." Morgan needed the laugh, or at the least something aside from sorrow to think about. She gave Nick something of a rueful smile. Despite having lived with and around vampires for her entire life, Morgan hadn't really thought about becoming one until she'd joined the Order. And not even then, not until Nick and Angus had joined. How much more useful could she be if she was a vampire? Then again, she wouldn't be able to have her job in St Mungo's, would she? Not even with NewBlood. "Well, how flattering to know I'm your reason," Nick answered, smiling just a little. At least the topic had been broached, and she'd given an answer. He'd tell Angus the next time he saw him so that they were all on the same page. Should it come to it. He idly gave her a nudge. "Let's go have a life-affirming shag before Appetizer finds out and watches. I can't bloody stand it when he does that."