Rᴏʙᴇʀᴛ Mᴏɴᴛᴀɢᴜᴇ Rᴇɴғɪᴇʟᴅ (insects) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-04-15 21:23:00 |
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Well, it seemed as if two cherries were being popped today - Katherine had apparently never been to a Renaissance faire, and neither had Hank. But he thought it would be something interesting beyond the standard ‘dinner and a movie’ date, and it was a good way to get out of the house - not something he’d been doing often, ever since his metamorphosis. As luck would have it though, he’d received the very fortuitous gift of a vial of upgraded serum a couple days prior - managing to replicate the formula in his laboratory, he now had a decent supply for the immediate future. Injecting himself with the improved version meant that his beastly attributes were suppressed, and only brought to the forefront when he was particularly ruled by his animal instincts - lust (the desire to mate, to pass on genes), anger (the need to survive), or quite possibly accompanying the adrenaline rush of ‘battle mode.’ He wasn’t particularly concerned, but he had also dreamed of a couple instances where animal instincts overrode human ones. It would not be an issue today, he hoped. Even if he hadn’t received the serum, he could not resist the siren’s call of the rather romantic artistry and magical whimsy of the medieval era! Belly dancers, knights, wandering minstrels, Celtic music and so many shops with crafts, food, and games. Jousting and live-action chess! Turkey legs, steak-on-a-stake (oh ho), dragon meat on a stick and honey herb wine and berry cobbler! What was the dragon meat anyway? Hank had dressed the part as well, choosing a hooded tunic with a strap across the chest, belt and cuffs scrawled with an intricate design, though he’d left the loaded bow and arrow at home (that was a joke). For his first go at it, he thought he made a decent-looking forest thief or whatever he was supposed to be. “Stars and garters, it’s 11:30 am,” he noted, checking the time. “Are you ready to imbibe the alcohol?” Day-drinking. On a pub crawl. Very romantic! Dates. Dates that excluded foreplay. Also very romantic, but Katherine didn’t mind. If that’s all she’d been after, she wouldn’t be in a field of dirt dressed in a velvety jade dress with billowing sleeves, and a corset that pinched that model waist and pushed those chest puppies up, very up - soft, squishy cleavage (rose-scented like the rest of her, thanks to his gift) that he could trip and fall into if he pleased. Or he could fall into it on purpose. She wouldn’t mind. “First time someone’s ever asked that question so formally,” she teased, smiling - maybe even beaming, which was a rarity for the seductive little minx. Most of the time her looks were so conniving; almost as if she knew something you didn’t, all tricks and secrecy and bedroom lies. “I’ll imbibe. Did we want to give the mead a try?” Honey-wine, wasn’t it? Katherine never had a try. Her tastes were more towards mixed cocktails and tequila. “I think the mead is required for a gathering such as this,” Hank chuckled. “The first alcoholic beverage ever produced by humans! Of course, it will taste much better these days, considering the higher quality of yeasts available.” Into the first pub they went - there were about six on the crawl, at the Ren Faire today, so they’d definitely be imbibing - and the selection of mead was vast. There was the standard flavor, with an aftertaste of floral and honey he assumed, but then flavors like berry and apple - also mead spiced with cacao or chipotle peppers, how intriguing! For his first attempt, Hank would just go for something traditional. He received a glass of the thick, amber-colored beverage and really couldn’t wait to dive in so to speak. There were no qualms about getting drunk today. Drunk and slightly sunburned, most likely. No qualms about faceplanting into Katherine’s cleavage either, but he’d see how it went. “Cheers,” he saluted, and clinked his glass against hers. “You look very nice, by the way! I did not want to forget to mention.” Yeast. That was probably the most unattractive word in the human language, but anyway - Katherine’s decision was more on the bold side, daring to select the flavor meant to tickle the tastebuds. Cherry mead (hence the redness of it) spiced with Brazilian pepper honey. If she was going to try something new, might as well try something really new. It might scald the tongue instead of tickle it, but she was about to find out. “Right back at you,” was her reply, mouth tilted into a half-smirk. A little delicious in that tunic, wasn’t he, with that tiny bit of dorkish charm he wore so well. One day she’d undress him with her teeth, one day. “You sure you can keep up on the crawl, blue eyes? I question the strength of your liver.” Parties came with the model career - clubbing, major house parties hosted by the rich and famous - and it had trained her tolerance thanks to all the shots and strong martinis. Not that they were doing shots, but with the trajectory they were on they’d be drinking plenty for the day. It was true, Hank hadn’t really ‘partied’ much in his day. Didn’t help that he’d attended Harvard, and then CalTech, at such a young age - he wasn’t old enough to drink legally anyway. He wasn’t even old enough to register to vote, when he graduated from Harvard. But he was certain that he could keep up now; he would rise to the challenge! “I am certain of it,” he nodded decisively. “If not, you can gallantly carry me home and tuck me in. I promise not to upchuck on your dress.” Was that a joke? Perhaps! Though he really wouldn’t be so uncouth as to vomit on his date. “Mead...now this is good.” He found that he liked the taste - it was different, unlike anything he’d had before. Not like beer, not like wine. Just different. “I’m glad I finally get to try it. And many other things too - so I suppose I have you to thank for that,” since Katherine encouraged him to get out and not live in the lab all the time. Hers was interesting, to say the least - sweet and spicy with that clear alcoholic aftertaste wasn’t a combo she’d ever tried. It wasn’t harsh. Surprisingly. A couple more test sips were taken before she finally decided she liked it. “There’s a whole world outside your lab - it’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Katherine smirked, teasing. “I’ll be happy to come along with whatever else you decide to try.” Now that she seemed to be a permanent residence here, or something. It was getting pricy paying for two homes - one unoccupied currently in Los Angeles - so she was seriously contemplating selling it. Part of her was resistant but what was the point? She was done running scared. Katherine would deal with whatever clusterfuck came her way, good or bad. Judging by it all, though, it’d probably mostly be bad. “So, with your apparent lack of blueness...” she started, narrowing her eyes at him contemplatively. “How often are you supposed to be injecting yourself with that serum to keep it under wraps?” “Once every few weeks should be enough,” he said; Hank had made enough of a supply to last him for a little while. Certainly not enough to be able to inject the serum everyday, but he didn’t foresee needing to do that. His dream self hadn’t, thankfully. “The formula controls my mutation, keeps me looking - ah, human...as long as I don’t get worked up. You know - “ He took a few thirsty sips of his drink, perhaps faster than he needed to but it was so delicious. “Animal instincts or urges. Those are what bring out the beast.” The literal, actual Beast - it required a steady amount of control on his end, keeping himself relaxed enough, but he was certain that he could do what he needed to do in order to keep himself looking human. “Then again, in some ways, it’s always there.” To emphasize that point, he gave a bit of a growl - low and throaty, like dragging against gravel. Then grinned teasingly, of course. Mreoow. A brow sharply rose, the look on her face implying she was thinking up something super fucking naughty - never did she think sounds like that coming from him would do it for her, but it really was doing it for her. Wet panties, Hank. “Animal instincts or urges, you say,” Katherine rumbled with a husky purr, slowly sliding her ankle up his. “Does that mean I can’t tease you in public, just in private?” Oh, it was a serious question. They had kissed, she’d even fondled him a little - and he seemed to enjoy it - so was that dangerous territory to cross out here, or should she just wait until they got back into the car? “Well, uh - “ Henry swallowed the rest of his drink, blinking those crystal clear blue eyes - currently not clouded thanks to lust, but who knows, that could change. He wasn’t some hornball who hit the ceiling at the slightest bit of provocation, he could control himself - but for how long, was the question. “Depends how far you take your public teasing, my dearest rose petal,” he smirked, and why yes, he had noticed that Katherine carried quite the delectable floral scent about her - the rose oil from Bulgaria was organic and intense; only a dab or so was necessary, and she wore it well. He set the glass down, sliding off of his seat and offering his hand to the olive-skinned maiden. “Though you seem to like flirting with danger.” He was dangerous, a monster, in fact - Hank saw himself as such, and those animal instincts could be dangerous if he gave into them entirely. It was going to be a balancing act for awhile but he felt better about conquering it now. “Should we try the next pub on the list?” Hers tingled all the way down, sugar and spice down her throat like she was knocking back a shot glass - it was too tasty to have a high alcohol content so she wasn’t worried. Katherine’s liver was made of something tougher than diamonds. “I like flirting with you in general,” she simpered teasingly, sliding off her seat and linking their arms. Maybe molest his bicep a little bit. “Danger’s only a perk, blue eyes.” Next stop on the list, though, was beer. It was a mistake to expect the standard domestics and imported - there were an array of different brews that caught her curiosity. Blueberry Milk Stout, for one. That sounded like it could be either really good or really disgusting, and others were boldly labeled things like ‘Smoked Dragon’s Blood.’ Decisions, decisions. “While I have you here,” she began, blueberry option selected. “I actually need to ask a favor. Of the somewhat medical sort.” Not exactly date material talk but she had it nagging her mind, especially with some recent events unraveling and knocking at her door like a jackass in the damn morning. Anything called ‘Dragon’s Blood,’ now that would be something Hank was all for. Why not, right? This was a day to try all sorts of things he’d never experienced prior. That was the beer he went for - ale? Was it officially ale? Alas. It didn’t really look like blood. It was amber in color, sort of sweet, and had a caramel taste to it, with notes of whiskey. A lot softer than he expected, but if this was the blood of dragons then sign him up for a gallons worth. “A favor?” Hank picked up the gigantic beer mug; it even looked large in his hand, which said something. He sipped with a curious lift to his eyebrows. “...damnation, this beer is good. But, er, yes, of course! What can I do for you?” Something medical, at that - though he was sure he could handle it. There was little this scientist would balk from. It was a thought she toyed with during a conversation with Cindy, but what happened with a newfound hybrid in her hotel room lit the real fire under her ass - turns out, doppelganger blood also finished certain transitions. “I need to preserve some of my blood while I’m still human,” Katherine plainly stated, finding a spot for them that was a little isolated from the rest of the crowd (don’t eavesdrop, she’d sharpen her nails against someone’s face). “I obviously can’t explain to just any regular health professional that my blood’s rarer than a unicorn.” Her brew was almost pitch-black but really, it was the darkest shade blue could be before it. It was sweet. A little thick like a malt. “I had an...acquaintance,” which was a term loosely used, by the way, as she didn’t consider herself to be ‘pals’ with Lockwood, “show up at my door in the middle of a vampire-werewolf hybrid transition. My blood’s what helped him finish him turning - without it he would have died but trust me, I didn’t give it up all that willingly.” Tyler had his eyes set on her neck, that’s for sure - and there was no way she was going to trust a little half-vampire baby to feed from her and not kill her. Katherine had avoided that situation by slicing her palm and letting the blood drip in a cup for him to drink, but it was either that or let him go to town on her veins. Hank nearly spit out a mouthful of beer. “Holy hellfire,” he coughed, and wow, such language there, McCoy. But wrapping his fast tracked mind around some ‘acquaintance’ showing up at Katherine’s door and taking her blood - that, surprisingly, required a moment to actually accomplish. “Are you alright after that??” She seemed fine, but still. It must have been quite the ordeal. “Do you think this will happen again, that someone else in transition will require your blood?” he asked. “Either way, I will help you. Next time you come by, I’ll take a small amount in my laboratory at home.” He was a biochemist, a geneticist, not necessarily a medical doctor per se - but he could handle drawing blood, and perhaps other doctorly tasks, at the very least thanks to his astounding wealth of knowledge about the human body and all things science. “Where would you like your blood to be stored?” Aw, the cutie. Try and keep all the booze inside? But, really, Katherine was fine. More aggravated than anything about her feeble human state of being at the mercy of someone stronger, thirsting for her blood, but she’d managed to get out of the situation with her jugular still in tact. It was a win. Oh, wait until her fangs came in. Maybe she’d break his neck for payback. Put a little wood uncomfortably close to his heart. Spike his bourbon with wolfsbane. Her twisted, pretty little head was filled with all sorts of torture scenarios - for both species. “I’m out here drinking with you, aren’t I,” was her response to the inquiry of her well-being. “I don’t know what certain parties will want with it for the future, but I want it stored somewhere safe - because once I’m turned the doppelganger blood won’t matter, and that leaves people setting their eyes on my sister if she ever comes around.” While she wasn’t the biggest fan of her useless twin, she also wasn’t about to let anyone lay a damn finger on her for her blood either. “I’ll hide it myself, though. Each in a different location. Just in case.” Katherine liked to be a little difficult. The only person she knew of that could ever be interested in the blood was Klaus. This was a precaution. “Then I’ll be sure to give you a few vials to, ah...scatter wherever you see fit,” Hank nodded. Here’s where he would have pushed up his glasses and asked a thousand questions about the properties of doppelgänger blood, but for one - he didn’t even need the glasses much anymore, thanks to the sharpness and acuity of his vision, especially at night. Occasionally, he wore them for work purposes if he needed to hunch over a sample or five. And two - they were on a date, so he very much doubted Katherine wanted to be examined under the figurative microscope. He would just...examine her with his eyes. In that dress. That sufficed rather well for now. And he reached for her hand, fingers lacing with hers for a moment. “Plus, once you turn - when, if, I am uncertain about the exact probabilities - “ They seemed pretty good though, since all the others from her dreamworld had turned into something else entirely. He wasn’t sure if she should go to them for advice, however. Would it even be helpful? “I am still not going anywhere.” Scattering was due to the seed of paranoia, planted by decades and decades of looking over her shoulder - it carried over more than she liked to admit, and she believed in always being prepared. Plans prepared from A to Z, things prepared for bargaining. Her human blood, imbued with a supernatural kick was one. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Katherine told him, fingers curled into his - they felt human again, no more of those bulky blue ones of his beastly form. Hank was a breath of fresh air from all she dreamt; the vampirism, the running, Mystic Falls, everyone she knew that held their tongue around her. No one wanted to tell her how much of a monster she’d become, all the things she’d done to them. “I can’t guarantee I won’t fantasize about drinking you dry, Hank. I can’t promise I won’t try.” It was those instincts, carnal and dark, animalistic and instinctual. He wasn’t a stranger to it. Hank understood those instincts. He struggled to not be ruled by them, to stay firmly in touch with the more human sides of him and cling to what he knew - and maybe he didn’t hunger for blood, really, but ripping into flesh? Sometimes that was all he could think about, and his canines would water in craving. “You can drink from me,” he said, brushing his thumb over the backs of her fingers, and perhaps it was a foolhardy thing to promise - but he wasn’t afraid. “Just...not to the point of dryness,” he added, chuckling. Only because he didn't particularly want to be expired, a bloodless and cold corpse. “But once you feel in control of yourself, of course I would trust you to not, er...kill me.” Not like he’d ever offered himself up to be a meal either - he couldn’t even begin to fathom what it would feel like, or if he would even have a palatable taste (too much like an animal, maybe?) but to him it was more an extension of belief and trust anyway. He didn’t look at Katherine like she was a monster. Hank looked at her like she was a person who, in another world, had a hard life. And had to relive it here, to pay the price for it now even if it wasn’t her choice. Really now. Katherine’s interest in her ale was lost (well, for the moment), and directed it all to him - by wedging herself between his knees as he sat. Personal space didn’t exist with her, sorry Hank, and how could she resist the sweetness that he was - especially when there was something else lurking underneath, something wild and savage. “Is that a kink?” she asked, brown eyes lit with genuine amusement, and she loosely curled her arms around his neck. In her dreams it was to many, and the exchange of blood between a vampire and someone else was an act of intimacy. “I’ll try to be gentle with you, but I trust you to get a little rough with me if necessary. I won’t mind.” Not one bit. “I don’t know. Maybe?” Hank sounded simultaneously amused and sheepish - because he really had no idea if that was a kink or not. His list of ‘kinks’ was quite short, given his inexperience. But that was what exploration and discovery were for, or so he presumed. “I suppose that would be something to find out,” he said, welcoming Katherine into the space between his knees with his arms sliding around her waist to hold her close to him. He had a feeling that he would indeed get chances to find out what did it for him - and indulge some of those more ‘taboo’ and intimate impulses too, because as he was now learning, he wasn’t entirely filled with sweet intentions and instincts that only led him to act in good, pure ways. But as long as she didn’t mind. Emboldened by the alcohol, or perhaps even their conversation, he kissed her then. The act itself seemed to have a tinge of something dark to it as well, a storm gathering, the zing of ozone. However, that wasn’t something Hank minded either - in fact, he enjoyed it. Katherine reveled in it, could even eat him up and trap him into her little seduction games and ploys but, unfortunately, they were in a populated area and she wasn’t about to purposefully make him pop a boner and have him burst blue with all eyes on him. But she kissed him still, hands cradling his face and neck, not the least bit shy when it came to the displays of public affection. Hank was warm, sincere, as sweet as he was corruptible. And she knew he wanted to be a little corrupted, a little wrecked. “Mm, I could get used to this,” she purred against his mouth with half-mooned eyes. “Kissing you, whenever.” Wherever, too. It’d been awhile since she wanted someone badly, and she was oh so used to getting her way. What a spoiled rotten creature Katherine Pierce was. Maybe she wanted to be wrecked too, Ms. Pierce. Maybe they were good for each other, maybe they’d be compatible between the sheets. Maybe she’d even go on another date with him. And maybe Hank wouldn’t sleep with her quite yet either. She enjoyed the chase, it seemed. He wouldn’t want her to get bored of him! “Could you?” he grinned a bit, a toothy smile and a flash of elongated canines while they were just about lip-to-lip. “I hope that means the novelty won’t wear off.” Laughing softly under his breath, he loosened his grip and pulled back a little, though his hands continued to gently smooth down her waist, the sides of her dress. “We still have four more pubs to crawl to, beda.” Just a little bit of Bulgarian he’d picked up (after a brief bout of study, give him another three days and he’d be fluent). But the word for trouble suited Katherine rather well; he meant it to be cheeky, yet it was just so true. Hank pulled back, Katherine leaned forward - oh no you don’t, blue eyes, she was going to be robbing him of kisses all day. Another one was planted, teeth nibbling that scrumptious bottom lip of his. Let people stare. Attention didn’t bother her. They were a pretty pair to look at, weren’t they? “Mmm, you can practice talking dirty to me in my home language,” she giggled, palms sliding up his thighs but don’t worry, they remained in a safe space. Beda was behaving. “Let’s chug these and go to the next, then? I’ll race you to the bottom of the glass.” Oh, she wasn’t much of the chugging beer variety but she could probably wing it - and it’d be a new challenge for him, among other things. He certainly wasn’t going to complain about more kissing - Hank enthusiastically returned the one Katherine gave him next, and he didn’t seem concerned with people looking either. This was a faire meant for drunken revelry and debauchery - not all of it had to be family friendly. They could push the PG level without going full-on obscene. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll win,” he said, sounding chipper, but the race was on. He didn’t have much more ale in his mug to go, and after chugging the rest of the Dragon’s Blood in a few gulps, the pink flush had darkened his cheeks just a little bit. Now to hopefully make it through the rest of the pub crawl without falling over, but alright, that was what the beastly metabolism was for. Some aspects of his mutation did come in handy. |