[PRP] Just A Flesh Wound [Mithras/Micky]

[Ruriska]

Mithras was used to pain. There wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t getting into some sort of brawl or fight. He craved it. Every day he woke up, probably with a split lip and black eye from the night before, and went out to do it all again. It gave him a rush that he couldn’t get anywhere else.

So yeah, he was used to pain.

But being stabbed ******** hurt.

The Baddie stumbled along, barely keeping upright, hugging the wall as he entered the dark alley. His breathing was ragged, one hand clasped firmly against the right side of his abdomen. His hand felt warm and wet, sticky. He hadn’t looked yet but he was sure it wasn’t too bad.

Surely just a scratch. Like a head wound that bled too much.

No big deal.

He’d pull through, he always had.

And it wasn’t like this was a surprise. Somebody should have stabbed him a long time ago. He’d just gotten lucky, and then really unlucky. Some kats had no chill, they didn’t appreciate a good punch to the face and a broken nose. So they snuck up on you later and greeted you with the sharp end of a knife.

Ugh, it hurt.

He finally turned his back to the wall and slid down it, his breathing quick and sharp.

He’d just rest for a bit.

Yeah, that’s all he needed.

A little rest and then he’d be right as rain. He’d go back and really ******** that guy up.  

[Seussi]

It was the smell of blood that drew him in. That sickly sweet, metallic scent permeated the air, though this was mixed with something heavier, something dark and foreboding.

Death.

Micky could sense it. Whatever it was that was spilling blood would die, and though he was not particularly hungry, it still piqued his interest. He would hate to see good blood go to waste, if nothing else.

Following his nose and instincts, he soon found himself turning down a dark alley, where the scent of blood grew more robust, and the sound of pained, laboured breaths drew him closer. Soon, the pale and ethereal Brujah found himself standing in front of a baddie who was in an unfortunate state indeed.

And yet, he smiled and reached out with a foot to nudge at the figure on the ground, his hands in his jacket pockets, his stance relaxed.

"Hello, friend~ Have a rough night?" He asked as if he could not see the blood that slowly pooled on the cobbled floor, or smell the cloying and enticing scent in the air, or hear how the mortal's heartbeat faltered.

Ruriskax

 

[Ruriska]

He could feel himself getting tired, an odd numbness spreading throughout his body. Maybe a little nap would do the trick. Mithras let his eyes shut, eyelids far too heavy to keep open, and sighed, welcoming the oncoming darkness - until something nudged his foot. He grunted, annoyed.

In any other situation, he would have kicked back.

But when he tried, his foot really didn’t want to move that much. So he settled on opening his eyes and glowering upwards, half expecting it to be the weasel that had stabbed him. It wasn’t. It was some tall pale weird dude instead.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He rasped. His mouth was dry and his hand was very wet. “If you wanna fight, you’re gonna have to wait. I’ve got someone else at the top of my list.”

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

Ah, this one had a fighting spirit! The elder's smile widened into a grin, fangs flashing in whatever dim light reached them. He crouched before the poor, dying soul, and his lilac eyes shone strangely. "Funny? No. I've never been very good at telling jokes." He admitted, arms resting on his thighs as he looked the baddie over.

"I hate to tell you this, but I don't think you'll be fighting anyone ever again." That was a sad thought, and Micky's smile faltered as that realization hit. This poor baddie, lying in an empty alley in a pool of his blood, was about to expire at any moment, and all he wanted was one last a** to kick. It tugged on the Brujah's heartstrings as he began to feel sorry for the feisty little fellow.

If only there were something he could do...

Oh! Wait! There was something he could do! The grin returned, and he reached out to snap his claws together in front of the baddie's face. He could hear the heartbeat growing thready, but he needed this guy to pay attention.

"s**t, you know what? I can totally help you out! I can make you immortal, like me," The way his eyes shone intensified, and his fur began to glow as he hit the mortal with his Presence, a way to charm and seduce, most of the time, but in this case, he just wanted to make the guy more agreeable.

If the elder grew prettier in the process, that was just a happy side effect.

"I drink some of your blood, you drink a little of mine, and suddenly, you'll be right as rain!" Well, it was a little (actually a lot) more complicated than that, but the guy didn't have much time left, so Micky had to summarize.

Ruriska

 

[Ruriska]

Mithras was finding it hard to pay attention but he was pretty sure the guy had just told him he was gonna die which was also totally saying that he was weak. That was something Mithras took great offense to. He would have socked him one, if not for his current state.

Except he did sock him one, easily getting up and punching the guy right through the wall, everyone cheered and - Mithras startled back awake, torn up from welcoming darkness by the sudden clap in front of his face. He blinked, tried to lift his chin off his chest but even that was an effort.

What was he saying? It felt like he should really be paying attention, he was saying something... important... drinking blood? “I ain’t... y-you... you should keep your weird kinks to yourself, man,” he mumbled. Was his mouth filled with cotton? s**t. This didn’t feel right.

Then the realization hit.

“Oh ********,” he said. “I’m gonna die?”

Yeah, he was gonna die.

His gaze sharpened suddenly, as he mentally grabbed on to the only lifeline available. Was this guy an angelic or some s**t? He had a nice glow, kinda pretty even. Something about being immortal. “Right,” he gasped, “right as rain, yeah?” A little laugh bubbled up; his mouth tasted like blood. “Sounds good to me. This... this ******** sucks.”

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

Lilac eyes shimmered with a soft glow that seemed to pulse from within, and Micky smiled wider, the fangs that parted his lips more noticeable now. The Brujah Elder nodded a few times, listening to bright-hued baddies dying words and letting out a light chuckle.

"Yes, yes. That's what I've been trying to tell you. You are going to die, but you're also going to be fine. Back up and kicking a** before you know it."

He leaned forward now, a hand lifting to slip behind the baddie's neck, sharp claws pressing against his skin as he pulled him gently forward. Micky leaned forward then, forehead nearly touching the others.

"I'll try not to make it too uncomfortable, hm?" A quick glance down either end of the alley to make sure they were truly alone, and the vampire trailed his thumb along the thread pulse of the mortal's neck, then tilted his head to the side and pressed forward, soft lips finding tender flesh first before the sharpness of fangs followed, the bite swift, and hot blood began to collect in the Brujah's mouth, the flow as slow as the dying beat of the mortal's heart. He barely took a mouthful, the sweet metallic taste sliding down his throat, before he pulled away, licking stained lips clean.

"Now it's your turn." He breathed and lifted his free hand to his mouth, biting his wrist to puncture the flesh there and bring slow-flowing blood to the surface, before pressing it roughly against the mortal's lips.

"Drink." He demanded, the glow intensifying, bidding the baddie to do as he wanted, though he wondered with a certain regret if he might have been too late to save him.

Ruriska

 

[Ruriska]

“Already... uncomfortable,” he mumbled, as the stranger took him in his arms. He hadn’t been held so close by anyone for a very long time, not since his mum, so many years ago. The closest he got to affection these days was a smack to the head or a rough shoulder from someone who might drink beside him or play a round of darts but who would just as happily try to kick his face in.

It felt... kind of nice. A bit weird. If he’d had any strength at all, he might have instinctively pushed the other kat away, especially as he went in for the throat. So maybe it was a weird kink thing after all. The feeling of teeth against his throat was alarming but only faintly, as if the normal alarm system in his brain was broken.

He felt heavy and numb, like a broken doll. Blood roared in his ears, his heart beat so very loud, thudding in his throat. Until it wasn’t. And the rush, the strange, quivering feeling, pushing away the oncoming death, a pleasure he usually only felt when he’d just won a fight. Not a bad way to die. Not bad at all.

At least he was going out with a bang.

And he very nearly did just slip away, a fog settling over, darkness creeping in. It wasn’t like he had much to live for. But Mithras had always been a fighter. He’d been on the streets since he was young, struggling to survive. If there was even the smallest hope, he would reach for it.

And so he did.

By commanding his body, as useless as it was, to swallow the blood that was dribbling across his parted lips. That first sip was the hardest but it awakened something, some darkly coiled beast inside that was hungry to live. So he swallowed again, then licked, asking for more. Suddenly ravenous and desperate, no thoughts left to think, only to feed, weakly but increased desperation, sucking down his lifeline.

Seussi