![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
[ open ] i am no one's blessing
Who: Qrow Branwen & you!
When: First full moon of Mareuer
Where: Aefenglom
What: Baby's first bloodlust
Warnings: Blood, emetophobia, references to alcoholism, potential violence
i. around 8 pm, bar
[It's on his way in from the Wilde, not long after the last tinges of sunset fade, that he first feels it.
There's a strange discomfort in his stomach, the kind where you're not sure if you're hungry or nauseous. It's dismissed outright, at first; it's not been that long since he ate, and he's not sure if he wants to test the "or nauseous" part until he's alone inside the house he's claimed here. It's easily ignored at first, anyway, but it gets worse the more he walks. He doesn't relish the idea of being sick before he gets home, so...most stores are closed by now, but the bars should be open, especially with Eostre going on right now. Some seltzer water might help; it's not like the barkeepers don't know him well enough to forgive the lack of revenue one night.
By the time he reaches the bar, the discomfort has morphed into outright pain and he sits doubled over against the bar, clutching onto a glass as he struggles not to make a noise out of distress. What's happening to him? The fangs weren't a pleasant experience, sure, but he feels like his body wants to tear itself apart from the inside, this time. Anyone who so much as comes close gets an extremely pissy glare leveled at them.]
What?
ii. 10:30 PM aefenglom streets [cw: blood, emetophobia]
[The night only gets worse from there. A woman a few seats away, very cheerfully drunk, gestures a little too wildly with a glass in her hand, and it smashes on the ground. (How unfortunate, his mind helpfully supplies. It's not his fault, but maybe it is, maybe it's still there even though he can't feel it anymore, isn't that possible?) She reaches down to pick up the broken glass even though the barkeeper tells her not to, and cuts her hand on the glass. And then--
It's not ferality, not yet, but Qrow experiences something akin to a blackout for a few seconds as the smell of blood hits the air, and before he knows it he's slammed her up against a wall, fangs bared against the open wound in her hand, prepared to rip it open and take the sustenance instead before he remembers where he is and stumbles backwards. All but crawls on his hands and knees to get away before he gathers himself enough to run, pain forgotten for the moment in sheer horrified adrenaline. That's what the fangs are for. He's supposed to hurt people, to tear them apart to nourish himself and ....
Abruptly, he crumples to his knees and retches, dry heaves bringing up nothing but water and stomach acid. He can't do this. He can't he can't he can't he can't--fuck, he was so stupid to think his curse had ever left him for a minute. Here it is personified in the truest form of his lifelong insecurities, isn't it? Twisting him into a Monster that needs to hurt others to exist. Unfortunate.
--Footsteps around the corner get a howl of distress, and he looks at whoever it is with an almost maddened terror in his eyes.]
No! Get away from me! Run!
iii. 1:45 AM, Closed to Sasuke
[Every encounter up to now has ended, eventually, with him taking off at a run. He's kept himself from hurting anyone yet, but with each show of willpower his stamina is fading. By the time he runs into Sasuke, he's visibly shaking from the effort. He makes a panicked noise in his throat when he makes eye contact, like he can sense the blood still pumping in Sasuke's veins for the time being, and drives his fangs right into his own hand because he cannot live with himself if he harms a child in this condition.
He slides down against a wall, landing roughly on the cobbled street, and half-wheezes, muffled, through his hand--]
L...eave. Don't get--closer.
When: First full moon of Mareuer
Where: Aefenglom
What: Baby's first bloodlust
Warnings: Blood, emetophobia, references to alcoholism, potential violence
i. around 8 pm, bar
[It's on his way in from the Wilde, not long after the last tinges of sunset fade, that he first feels it.
There's a strange discomfort in his stomach, the kind where you're not sure if you're hungry or nauseous. It's dismissed outright, at first; it's not been that long since he ate, and he's not sure if he wants to test the "or nauseous" part until he's alone inside the house he's claimed here. It's easily ignored at first, anyway, but it gets worse the more he walks. He doesn't relish the idea of being sick before he gets home, so...most stores are closed by now, but the bars should be open, especially with Eostre going on right now. Some seltzer water might help; it's not like the barkeepers don't know him well enough to forgive the lack of revenue one night.
By the time he reaches the bar, the discomfort has morphed into outright pain and he sits doubled over against the bar, clutching onto a glass as he struggles not to make a noise out of distress. What's happening to him? The fangs weren't a pleasant experience, sure, but he feels like his body wants to tear itself apart from the inside, this time. Anyone who so much as comes close gets an extremely pissy glare leveled at them.]
What?
ii. 10:30 PM aefenglom streets [cw: blood, emetophobia]
[The night only gets worse from there. A woman a few seats away, very cheerfully drunk, gestures a little too wildly with a glass in her hand, and it smashes on the ground. (How unfortunate, his mind helpfully supplies. It's not his fault, but maybe it is, maybe it's still there even though he can't feel it anymore, isn't that possible?) She reaches down to pick up the broken glass even though the barkeeper tells her not to, and cuts her hand on the glass. And then--
It's not ferality, not yet, but Qrow experiences something akin to a blackout for a few seconds as the smell of blood hits the air, and before he knows it he's slammed her up against a wall, fangs bared against the open wound in her hand, prepared to rip it open and take the sustenance instead before he remembers where he is and stumbles backwards. All but crawls on his hands and knees to get away before he gathers himself enough to run, pain forgotten for the moment in sheer horrified adrenaline. That's what the fangs are for. He's supposed to hurt people, to tear them apart to nourish himself and ....
Abruptly, he crumples to his knees and retches, dry heaves bringing up nothing but water and stomach acid. He can't do this. He can't he can't he can't he can't--fuck, he was so stupid to think his curse had ever left him for a minute. Here it is personified in the truest form of his lifelong insecurities, isn't it? Twisting him into a Monster that needs to hurt others to exist. Unfortunate.
--Footsteps around the corner get a howl of distress, and he looks at whoever it is with an almost maddened terror in his eyes.]
No! Get away from me! Run!
iii. 1:45 AM, Closed to Sasuke
[Every encounter up to now has ended, eventually, with him taking off at a run. He's kept himself from hurting anyone yet, but with each show of willpower his stamina is fading. By the time he runs into Sasuke, he's visibly shaking from the effort. He makes a panicked noise in his throat when he makes eye contact, like he can sense the blood still pumping in Sasuke's veins for the time being, and drives his fangs right into his own hand because he cannot live with himself if he harms a child in this condition.
He slides down against a wall, landing roughly on the cobbled street, and half-wheezes, muffled, through his hand--]
L...eave. Don't get--closer.
ii
Pointed ears prick up, just slightly, to the sound of retching as he walks the city streets that night. Nothing but a drunk, no doubt, but he moves to investigate regardless - his nature of wanting to offer help to anyone who might need it is something that hasn't yet been dulled.
His steps are light, but evidently not light enough to go unnoticed. Or perhaps it was his shadow, preceding him in a wavering, wobbling shape? He meets those terrified eyes, and lightly rests his hand against the pommel of his slim sword.]
Mm. [Interesting. The terror which has gripped his own heart and mind since his arrival here takes form in front of him, it seems. Red Wine sniffs. Listens. Hears nothing.]
I don't believe I have anything to fear from you.
no subject
He shakes his head vigorously, sort of crawls backward, too out of sorts to remember how to get back to his feet and run away properly. The sword doesn't scare him, even though he ran out of the restaurant without his own. It's a little bit of a relief, really, that he'd probably be run through if he couldn't hold himself back, but he still doesn't want this. He doesn't want to hurt this stranger.]
Just leave me alone. I don't want to hurt you.
[Regardless of what the danger to his life might be, it's still a risk he doesn't want to take.]
no subject
And you won't. [Red Wine replies quietly, letting his hand slip from the sword. He crouches, bright red eyes focused on the man, and he balances his weight carefully on the balls of his feet to keep himself in place.]
I'd like to help you. Can you tell me what's wrong?