marceline, that's too distasteful! (ydidueatmyfries) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-04-16 07:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, marceline abadeer |
Who: Marceline the Vampire Queen
What: After soul sucking down some dementors.
Where: Marcy’s Ugly Pink House
When: Late Sunday/Early Monday, April 15/16th
Warnings: Narrative, complete.
Marceline stared into her fridge, wondering what to eat. It wasn’t that the apples really tasted any different from the tubes of lipstick or the plastic red solo cups. She just wasn’t sure what she wanted. Food-- but for some reason, none of it really appealed to her. That usually meant something else was wrong, but Marceline wasn’t the type of person to let herself wade into introspection too deeply. After a few frozen moments, she selected a solo cup, draining red pigment from the plastic until it turned to pure white. Without marvel or fanfare, Marceline tossed it in the trash on her way to the living room. Marcy had always confused humans. She was a vampire that drank red. A half demon that swallowed souls. A messed up kid, stuck forever as a messed up kid. She’d always closely resembled vampires from her world, long before she was turned. Thanks to her father she had skin the color of dusk, sharp unfriendly teeth, pointed ears and a frightening ability to suck the souls from living creatures and leave behind a listless husk. The vampirism came later. Marceline’s body was a prison for worst of the worst souls. She’d only used her soul sucking abilities on the darkest, most evil creatures that she couldn’t risk getting away, even to some afterlife. They didn’t deserve it anyway. Vampires were the worst. When she sat down on the couch, Marceline realized she had nothing to do. At least nothing she really wanted to do. Habit convinced Marceline to pick up her bass and adjust the strings as she tuned it. His voice interrupted her: “One day you’re going to find out you have a limit, Marceline.” The Vampire Queen didn’t have to look to know there was a tiny image of the Vampire King standing next to her on the couch. Marceline didn’t know if it was the real Vampire King, the one who’s soul she’d sucked down when she destroyed him for the second time, or if her grip on reality had just slipped a little since that fight. She didn’t see him often. He never stayed around long enough to hold a conversation with her. Usually, the image of him -- a man in a white suit with the head of a lion and the feet of an eagle -- stuck around just long enough to remind her he was still there before disappearing. “Whatever, man. Someone had to take care of those dementors,” she shrugged. Of course the Vampire King -- or his hallucination -- hadn’t answered her. When she looked at the end of the couch for his chicken-sized image again, she was alone. But maybe he had a point. The dementors hadn’t gone down normal. It wasn’t like they were getting out -- probably -- and she hadn’t picked up any new terrifying abilities from them or anything, but they’d tasted cold. Not that cold was a taste, it was just the best way she could describe it. Her dad could suck down hundreds of souls, maybe thousands, but he never distinguished between good or evil and he was a full blooded demon. Not that demons had blood. Or hearts. Or even souls. Marceline was only half demon. Maybe there was a limit to how many souls she could hold. Or how long. Or if she only sucked down evil souls, it might somehow turn her evil. Or what if some of souls she’d sucked down got out? (Again.) What then? If any of that were true then maybe she was being selfish spending so much time around everyone else. Marceline buried the thought underneath a sweet bass riff. She wondered what Bae was up to today. |