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 Posted: Mon Mar 18, 2019 4:06 am
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Posted: Mon Mar 18, 2019 4:45 am
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Posted: Mon Mar 18, 2019 1:12 pm
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xxxx  Jean-Claude x
Jean-Claude had woken up sometime in transit. It would be some time until the sun was still up, and he wasn’t biologically equipped to be unconscious at this time unless he was wounded past his body’s ability to hold him awake and ready to respond.
He might have thought he was still at this point (he could still feel that he didn’t, really have a full lower jaw—there was something there, now; some lipless simulacrum of a thing, with jutting teeth that didn’t much resemble the smooth, delicate teeth he would end up given more time). But here he was.
He was just as happy to be conscious. Cut off from any source of sexual excitement he had been tracking, and of course from any source of life energy or blood, he knew this was as far as his healing would go for now. By the time whatever vehicle he was in stopped, he had explored his limited range of movement.
By the time he was removed from whatever liquid had been holding him (he’d simply made an effort not to breathe in; breathing was of course no biological necessity of his, much as he enjoyed it) and strung up between chains, he had calmed considerably.
He worried about St. Vier; of course he did. But he also felt—good, about St. Vier. He felt the man would do well, was doing well.
He worried more for his club, for his slaves he’d taught to be nearly useless without him. He was regretful.
What he wasn’t was panicked, or visibly bothered by the man who approached him and yanked his head back.
It helped that he was beautiful, the man. The beauty pulled his mind back toward his life with Bella del’Morte, and he easily re-characterized the man’s clinical cruelty, which seemed to be seeking something from him. Fear, maybe, or shame.
He had spent centuries in that court, and was quite immune to either, at least when it came to his body; at least when it didn’t concern St. Vier.
As the strange man revealed his face, he flexed against the chains, testing his lower jaw to see if it would sustain speech. Better, at least, to have the option. He would have looked otherwise perfect, the jaw a brutal difference, more bone and predatory tooth than anything resembling human.
”I would have expected Volithius himself to greet me. Unless he is—otherwise disposed. He wasn’t on the ship with me.” As if he could know that. He guessed. His voice was basically his own, if hoarse with effort, and far more sibilant. He tried for a smile, reasonably sure what had kept it from being so. He could be very, very wrong, of course—any moment, the scientist could have walked behind a corner and he would have drastically re-evaluated his assessment of what was happening here. Until that happened, however…
He did obediently keep still, as there was no reason not to. He was not ashamed of his body, whatever state it was in now. He had been chosen, as a human, for the beauty of his body, to become vampire; the experience had only improved him. There were times he’d hated the softness of his features, how they pleased those of her court even when he wished to scourge them; but he knew what they were.
”Who are you, then, beautiful?” He was prepared for the pretty man not to answer; he meant the word as an epithet, mildly as he’d said it. For many, beauty was something easy to hold; maybe the man had lived a life where it was only a compliment.
Mood: evaluative
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Posted: Thu Apr 04, 2019 3:54 pm
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2019 3:12 pm
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xxxx Jean-Claude x
Jean-Claude immediately made to bend down for the sponge, pausing and closing his eyes in irritation as he couldn’t just reach down past his ankles with the constraints. An attempt at humiliation? Probably. How quaint. He pressed his back against whatever the unyielding surface holding him in place was, cocking his leg out to slide his foot under the sponge and flick it up into one hand. He managed to do so with apparent ease; even if he hadn’t, he would have just tried again, and a third time. It just wasn’t the sort of thing he would feel ashamed of, and it gave him an opportunity to try his strength against the constraints, now that they were loose enough to give him enough range of movement to stabilize himself and really pull.
The ‘rain’ was more annoying, but his desire to be clean overrode any bad feeling, and he eagerly washed himself off wherever he could reach, head tilted up into the water to let it flow over and into his face. It wouldn’t help him heal any faster (only sexual energy or blood would do that), but it felt nice, and cleaned the wound out, washing some of the foul-tasting film off of his tongue.
Once he’d done a cursory job he lingered over part of his chest--not in any attempt at seduction, but to give him an opportunity to look his ‘captor’ over in more detail. The man had been angered by the idea that Volithius was unable to come here at the moment. That meant the man didn’t know for sure where his Master was, and didn’t have a direct link to him. If so, he wouldn’t know what had happened at Guilty Pleasures.
He stared blatantly, making no effort at hiding his gaze. His body stirred, but it was a kind of predatory instinct, a recognition that there was a thing that he could use to siphon energy, hypothetically. It didn’t really mean anything, but it amused him; his body had more confidence in his ability to break free in the very near future than he did.
Testing the man’s reflexes and temper (or how easily the other could be damaged, if he failed to move out of the way), he threw the sponge at the man’s head, with the full strength he could muster in his somewhat weakened state.
Mood: wry
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Posted: Tue Apr 09, 2019 10:43 am
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Posted: Fri Jun 21, 2019 10:03 am
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xxxx Jean-Claude x
’Subdue him! Now!’
The order came too late, or the guard reacted too slowly. A quick motion knocked the guard back, arm twisted horribly at the elbow, stun gun still uselessly clutched in a spasming hand.
Jean-Claude felt…honestly, great. Energized; better than he had in days. He tried not to insist any of his slaves sleep with him for energy, preferring to ask for blood. Blood felt less—exploitative. Maybe he was trying a bit too hard to differentiate himself from his sire, that queen who had kept him buzzing with low-level arousal through many of the first decades of his life just to see how he reacted. He didn’t want his own slaves to be toys. They were his, utterly so; a great responsibility rather than an idle function.
His head shot up at great speed as he sensed Volithius’s slave fleeing, and he moved to intercept. He hissed, an oddly reptilian sound, aiming to tackle the man to the ground. Maybe he would drain the man entirely, now. Use the entirety of his lifeforce as fuel to leave this place, see what had happened to St. Vier and the man’s master.
Mood: energized; predatory
[[Back from the nsfw discord]] |
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