InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Where's my purple crayon..."

Raina Maris. (raina_maris) wrote in manchester_rpg,
@ 2010-09-19 18:46:00

When my brain's ticking like a bomb.
Who Raina & Jack, then Desmond
What Booze fixes all the problems in the world
When Sunday night
Where By the pond
Rating R (language and sexual situations)
Status In progress

It was a dream that had Raina wanting to leave campus for the night.

Lately, most of her dreams had been dark and she woke aching, both physically and emotionally. Her mind was tired from screaming and she felt like she was spinning out of control. Last night she'd found herself in the middle of the woods. Her heart had been racing as her eyes dated around through the mass of trees that surrounded her. She could hear leaves cracking underfoot as something took a spin around the shadows. She turned to try and catch a glimpse but she just barely saw the back end of whatever it was as it disappeared once more. "Who's there?" She called out, though she didn't expect an answer.

Turning, her feet kicked up dirt as she started to run through the woods. Her body bumped into the thick tree trunks and she could feel the bruises appearing on her body. But she couldn't stop. Heart thumping, she continued to run as the creature, or whatever it was, got closer and closer to her. She head towards a clearing when the creature on her tail snagged her foot. Raina fell to the ground, feeling the dirt staining her face. Flipping herself on her back, she prepared for an attack but nothing was there. Out of breath, her eyes darted around the circle of the clearing. As she did, the trees around her started to grow crookedly, wickedly. The branches bent like fingers reaching for her menacingly.

She screamed and backed up until she could get to her feet. No sooner had she taken a step away from the reaching fingers then they had gripped her. They wrapped around her, pinning her arms at her sides as they roped around her waist. The other ones started to claw at her violently, like an animal tearing her flesh into ribbons. Blood dripped from her body until she woke up violently. Drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around her body, it took almost fifteen minutes to pull herself together and realize she'd been only dreaming. And they had been getting worse every night.

This last one had felt so real that when her eyes laid on the clock and she'd realized that she had slept all day, she decided there was really only one thing that she could do to calm the thoughts of blood and destruction.

And that was alcohol.

With a bottle of jack daniels shoved in her bag, she threw on a skirt (in the chance that she wanted to get in the water) and a tank top, followed by a pair of slip on flats. Then Raina was out the door. She didn't want to be there right now. All she wanted to feel was numb. She had been hoping that, much like what most people told her, the ache would lessen with time. She had been all but hoping that one day she would wake up and it would hurt less, even just a tiny bit, but she'd had no luck with that. Every morning hurt just as badly. What if she never recovered? She didn't want to be reckless, but she didn't want to be in pain. So she didn't waste any time getting down to the pond. Stopping beside the water, Raina sat down and pulled out the bottle of whiskey. It started with a few shots. The burning in her throat as she swallowed each shot helped, but she wanted more, needed more.

She wasn't sure how much time passed by a quarter of the bottle down, Raina was laying back on the ground, staring at the sky. She hummed to herself as she twisted the bottle open again and held it against her lips to take another sip. Her cheeks were flushed with the taste, eyes watery from the buzz.

This was definitely helping.

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poeticmisery
2010-09-24 12:08 am UTC (link)

One would have thought that after thousands of years of contemplation over it, it would have made it easier to explain what it was to be a dhampir. But the concept of it was so beyond words, beyond thought, that while Desmond could have described it, it would have filled so many volumes that humans would have needed to dedicate years of their lives to having read it, to studying it, and even then it would have been with dense verbage. He had read accounts of what it was like to first see the world with vampire eyes... but to live with the dichotomy of it, to be forced to deal with the schitzophrenia of being one creature then another over and over again, day in and day out was not something that could fully be brought into words. And therein lay the problem. It was somewhat easy to describe the transition, how life changed from being a human to being a vampire... but what if there were no transition, what if there were no comparison other than during the day you thought that you were... in some sense... mostly human?

And as hard as it was to describe the general life... it was harder still to describe the bloodlust that flowed through his veins. Desmond had heard it compared to drugs, and it was as close of an analogy as he could have guessed, having seen it's effects on other people, but even so, drugs implied cures, drugs implied being able to will yourself through such an addiction. Blood was not the same... the darkness that came with bloodlust was almost like another creature inside of you, or perhaps rather something darker, and more primal. It was as if there were something inside of you that was capable of acting without conscience or care about consequences or social norms, or even those that you loved. And yet at the same time it was so much worse than a mere split personality waiting to take over your mind when you did not think about it...

For it felt good to give into the beast. The allure of it... letting yourself go into that senselessness was something more powerful than any drug, more alluring than any female body... more religious than any temple or act of god. Instead it was more like becoming a diety yourself... if perhaps only in the sensation of it. It allowed one to become stronger, faster, more powerful... but less controlled. And yet to ride that high was an experience that most of those who had vampire blood in their veins had to struggle with day in and day out. Those that mastered it were those that gave into it slightly, a small scrap of meat to feed the ravenous appetite, and yet as time went on... eventually everyone would fall prey to it...

And Desmond had been no exception... though in his case it had been something more repugnant... a violation... something that caused his stomach to churn to think about...

Yet even so, as Raina kissed him her prescence hit his will power like a freight train. She had no idea the kind of mental preparation that it took to be around people, especially the innocent ones. But even that did not compare then to someone that you had feelings for, had desires for, feeling it magnified in such a way that mixed with the usual blood lust to assault the system over and over again. So it wasn't really so much of a surprise that Desmond slipped, that he let himself give into it, or rather, he felt the animal inside of him slip from his senses, moving to take what it wanted, kissing her roughly, wandering his hands across her supple young body.

But he had barely managed to reign it in, stopping the creature from wreaking complete havock that it had wanted to. He took a slow breath and tried to control his breathing. She told him to stop, to stop trying to fight, but she had no idea what it was that she was talking about. Even so, her words were like a siren song in his ears as he felt his knees get a bit weak at the idea of just letting go. She had no idea how hungry she made him... both for her blood and for her body... She couldn't possibly understand it.... no, she could, he could make her.. but he wouldn't. To force blood on someone healthy would be akin to a rape of the senses, and she likely wouldn't be able to handle the desire the way that he could... the way that he should be able to.

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