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Characters: Eric Northman
Rating: R for serious F-bombs
Trigger Warnings: none yet
Location: Outside of Eric's house, West block
Day and Time: July 9th, morning, after this call
Status: Open to Any, multiple solo threads
He stormed up the stairs as soon as he hung up on Saetan, ducking away from beams of light, covering his face with his hands as he hissed at the bright lights which hurt his eyes.
He squinted, and made his way for the door, carefully opening it. He pushed his foot into the halo of light that washed into his house with a heat he hadn't felt in centuries upon centuries. Staring down, at his own hands as they didn't instantly start peeling, cracking, turning to ash before his eyes, he squinted heavily under the wash of morning light. He wasn't dead asleep, or bleeding from his sockets, but he couldn't believe it.
Once he regained his senses, he took a deep breath, something he hadn't done in just as long, and started screaming at the top of his lungs.
"IKE!!! YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO US!"
He kept on at this, his body pink now that he was human, as he hollered, chest and stomach heaving, as he cussed the skies, the traitor-horror that was Ike, until he collapsed on his porch, shaken, out of breath, his throat raw, and groaning painfully as his stomach twisted once again.
So this was hunger. It was worse than the thirst. It was worse than silver chains against his skin. How did humans even begin to deal with this kind of torture, three times a day, every day, forever.
Rating: R for serious F-bombs
Trigger Warnings: none yet
Location: Outside of Eric's house, West block
Day and Time: July 9th, morning, after this call
Status: Open to Any, multiple solo threads
He stormed up the stairs as soon as he hung up on Saetan, ducking away from beams of light, covering his face with his hands as he hissed at the bright lights which hurt his eyes.
He squinted, and made his way for the door, carefully opening it. He pushed his foot into the halo of light that washed into his house with a heat he hadn't felt in centuries upon centuries. Staring down, at his own hands as they didn't instantly start peeling, cracking, turning to ash before his eyes, he squinted heavily under the wash of morning light. He wasn't dead asleep, or bleeding from his sockets, but he couldn't believe it.
Once he regained his senses, he took a deep breath, something he hadn't done in just as long, and started screaming at the top of his lungs.
"IKE!!! YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO US!"
He kept on at this, his body pink now that he was human, as he hollered, chest and stomach heaving, as he cussed the skies, the traitor-horror that was Ike, until he collapsed on his porch, shaken, out of breath, his throat raw, and groaning painfully as his stomach twisted once again.
So this was hunger. It was worse than the thirst. It was worse than silver chains against his skin. How did humans even begin to deal with this kind of torture, three times a day, every day, forever.