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vampire_compton ([info]vampire_compton) wrote in [info]silverage,
@ 2011-06-01 19:28:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:!log, betsy braddock, bill compton

Who: Bill Compton, Betsy Braddock
When: Wednesday night, just after dark
Where: Central Park
What: Bill emerges from the ground
Rating/status: Incomplete




The last few slats of sunlight had finally disappeared, and one by one, the streetlights of the city buzzed to life. The wealthier citizens of the city briskly headed home, stuffing hands into coats that were much too warm for the season, and the drunks and vagrants emerged from their various holes in the wall. It was a night like any other in New York City.

A few fingers poked gingerly from the soft ground of Central Park, in a secluded thicket of trees. They stayed still for a few moments, waiting. Suddenly, a dirt-covered hand, then an arm, and an entire man's torso emerged, clumps of earth and grass rolling away. Naked and vulnerable (well, as vulnerable as anyone would see this man), he stood, sensing the area for anyone who may see him.

He was fairly confident he was alone (though he had to admit, it had been a while since he had eaten and his senses were duller than usual). He dressed, brushing off what dirt he could. It would have to be another hotel. He sighed, resigned. He needed to find a basement to sleep in for a few nights - just for a few nights. With a clearing of his throat and a final hand run through his hair, he stepped onto the sidewalk and into the night.



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[info]vampire_compton
2011-06-05 05:40 am UTC (link)
Bill smiled gregariously.

"I completely understand the need to get out," he chirped. And he did - he had once spent a winter night in 1942 walking from his home outside Savannah to Brighton Beach without even realizing it, and had to spend the day under a decrepit farmhouse. He had fed on a ranch hand the next night, almost until he died. He had had to glamor the man quite extensively, and was never quite able to erase the incident completely from his mind - Bill had taken a rather large chunk out of the man's neck.

With the memory of the ranch hand's blood (B positive, it tasted like) fresh in his mind, he made a conscious effort to stop staring at the girl's neck. These thoughts would be completely blank to Betsy, however - although he was not aware of it, and would not be for several decades, he and all vampires were immune to telepathy, though she could catch a few traces of emotion should she put forth the effort.

He took her hand, and gently brought his lips to it.

"William Compton. Bill." he replied, "Please, call me Bill." He straightened, and cleared his throat. "Are you headed any place in particular? I happen to be heading towards 59th and 5th, myself."

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