middaeg | what is the sesame street number of the day??

The full moon has not been kind to Dazai; this place hasn't been kind to Dazai, to be clearer, since he still believes that his best friend could vanish again at any given moment. He doesn't trust this world, or this city -- but there's no need for him to dwell on that overall issue of his.

He needs to figure out what's going on with him right now. He's tired, incredibly tired, and it's admittedly difficult for him to even make his way around the city without short breaks every now and then. Thankfully, he's able to make it to a cafe, where he hopes a coffee could perk him up. As he heads inside, he happens to walk by a decorative mirror right next to the entrance, and he catches a glimpse of his reflection. He's pale. Pale, and his eyes are a deep crimson.

He'll decide to stop in front of that mirror and check his mouth, noting two pointed fangs near the front, as well as his long, pointed ears.

This is like the first dream he'd had, where he'd reunited with Oda and drank some of his blood. Blood.

Dazai closes his eyes and groans. He's going to have to feed again, isn't he? Turning around, he heads back outside, passing on the coffee and mulling over where to go to find someone to feed from. He does, however, spot a somewhat familiar face approach, and he makes his way over to him with a wave.

"Makoto-kun, is it?"

After the day he's had today, Makoto has resorted to walking through the streets of the city. This accomplishes a few things. First, if he's separated from his friends, he won't say or do anything more to upset them. Second, if he's among crowds of people, he's less likely to act on impulse, as he knows he'd be stopped quickly. And third...

He stops when he recognizes the voice and the face that goes with it. "Osamu-kun?" Makoto offers no friendly wave in return, but he does turn towards him after he's done walking over. Unlike the day they met, he's wearing a long black cloak with a large hood pulled around his head - blending in much better with the locals now. His pale skin and red eyes are still obvious, but at least it's not his clothes that's getting people staring.

"Good evening... hopefully, yours has been going alright so far."

He smiles a little wider when his memory serves him right, and he tries to get a better look at the other man. Who is also quite pale --

"It's been acceptable," He pauses, "Have you seen a minotaur? Or a man starting to look like one? I'm trying to find him."

His smile fades as he adds, "You and I are following the same path, it seems." He'll gesture to his own eyes, which are clearly red. "Same changes, same timing -- can't just be a coincidence, surely. But I can't gather what the point of it is. Have you found out anything? Run into anyone else with the same changes?"

He's right. Makoto can tell just by looking at him that he's a vampire, too. Or... turning into one. They probably don't qualify as full vampires yet.

"We aren't the only vampires here," he says cooly, waving off Dazai's suggestion that something deeper could be going on between them to explain it. He reaches up and pulls his hood back from his head. His eyes are slightly sunken in along with everything else, but overall, he looks a bit more lively than Dazai does right now.

"Sorry. I haven't seen anything like a minotaur," he continues. "All I've been doing today is... deal with myself. For better or for worse."

When Makoto lowers his hood and Dazai can see that his changes aren't quite the same as the ones he's currently undergoing, he lets out a thoughtful hum and shrugs.

"Well, you seem to look less tired than I do. Not that it means much, but you're probably right that just being a vampire means little." He yawns and tries, desperately, to keep himself alert. "I see. I've been doing the same, though my friend, the minotaur, is bonded with me. So I can sense that he's around somewhere. I'll have to keep looking and hope I run into him."

Dazai will gesture toward the cafe from where he'd came. "Can you eat or drink anything that isn't blood?"

He'd bonded with someone already? Makoto makes a mental note to ask him about it later. It's supposed to help soften the brunt of full moon changes, or so he's heard.

"I'm less tired for a reason," he mutters with a shrug. But instead of elaborating, he nods at the cafe. "Yeah, of course. I tried a lot of other food and drink today. But... only one thing made me feel like I wasn't going insane anymore."

It shouldn't be so hard to guess what that thing is. He gazes at Dazai, a slight smile creeping onto his face. "...You offering to pay?"

Whatever that reason may be, Dazai still feels far more fatigued than he is comfortable with, and he's concerned that in time, his energy levels will just continue to drop. Unless he's consistently feeding off of others, but --

He'd rather not think of that right now.

"I think I can hazard a guess," he responds, smiling slightly. "I can also guess that in time, I won't be able to consume anything aside from that one thing you're talking about, so I'd like to indulge as much as possible now."

He's going to miss sake and crab, a lot.

"I can pay, but I don't have a lot of funds on me. Still looking for a job! Nothing here has grabbed me like what I'd been doing back home."

Heading toward the cafe, he glances behind to make sure Makoto is following.

Makoto is not following. He stays where he stands, his hands hidden within his pockets and his pale face framed by the hood piled in folds on either side of his head.

"It would be wasted on me," he says with a shrug. The smile fades from his face. "If you're like me, that stuff won't even taste as good as you remember it being. No point in spending what little money you have on something that won't even make you feel better."

Rather, if he's got cash to spend, then he must have time to spend, too. Makoto glances away, down the long dark street outside of the coffee shop.

"Let's go somewhere else."

As soon as Dazai turns his head and notices how Makoto isn't following, he stops and promptly changes direction so that he can step toward the other man again.

"I see," he responds to that statement with a strong hint of disappointment in his voice. "I was hoping to have crab one last time, but if the taste is gone, then there's just no point. Shame." With a sigh, he nods and begins to follow Makoto's gaze toward that alleyway.

"What do you have in mind, then?"

"This way."

Makoto turns and heads down the dark street, illuminated only faintly by lights that could be oil lamps or could be magic-fueled. He trusts that Dazai is following him, so he doesn't look over his shoulder.

"I don't know if the taste would be gone necessarily. Your changes could be different from mine," he remarks as he walks. "And I didn't say the flavor was completely gone for me, either. Just... dulled, I guess."

Where was it again? he wondered to himself. When he reaches a crossroads, he looks up and down the perpendicular road, trying to remember. Still not looking at Dazai, he says softly, "I think you ought to just bite the bullet and do what you know you're going to have to do."

Unlike Makoto, Dazai opts to follow his companion immediately, assuming that he knows where he's going. Though, that assumption fades as the minutes pass, and Makoto seems to be looking around to make sure he's going in the right direction. Hopefully he's not lost!

"Dulled? Hm. I suppose I could work with that, though that would mean drinking sake would be a dangerous game. I'd have to drink a lot more to have the taste of it return to me, which I'd assume would mean I'd get very drunk after some time. Unless alcohol doesn't affect vampires that way," he says, audibly humming in thought.

But then, he hears Makoto say something that causes him to groan. He knows he has to feed off of others to survive, and there's no reason to delay the inevitable, but --

Blood isn't that exciting.

"I will. I have two reliable sources right now."

Makoto smiles bitterly when he hears that groan. He can sympathize - he was in that position a few hours ago. It's since become clear to him that resisting is pointless, though.

"We need to accept what's happening to us," he says gently. As if suddenly remembering something, he abruptly turns to the left and starts walking again. This road is even gloomier than the one they were just on. A few establishments are still open, low lights outside their heavy wooden doors welcoming people inside. A few of them have signs reading: vampires welcome.

"I get having sources... I guess I do too, now. But have you used those sources yet?"

Edited 2019-08-24 03:44 (UTC)

The gloomy atmosphere would send a chill down Dazai's spine if he weren't the type of man who'd already seen everything. This doesn't really faze him. He is, however, very curious as to what establishments Makoto is leading him to.

He can hazard a guess, but that's all he can do. Guess.

"Only during the first dream I'd had. Since then, I haven't fed off of either of them. I'm still not sure if doing so would cause any ill effects. I can't really risk having that happen to one of them, in particular."

Makoto leads him to the stoop of one dimly lit door. Like some of the others, this place welcomes vampires inside with its signage. Unlike the others, it's advertising "multi-sourced ichor cocktails."

"Ill effects?" he says, glancing back at him. He hadn't heard of their bites causing any ill effects, but he's definitely no expert at being a vampire yet. "Well... in that case, you should know about places like this even more."

Swinging open the heavy door, he steps into the entrance way and holds it open for Dazai.

"Turning others into vampires, I mean." He's still slightly concerned about his friend turning into a terrifying hybrid of a minotaur and a vampire, but he won't admit to that. Instead, he nods and heads right into that establishment, turning his head both ways to take in just what kind of place this is.

It's obviously welcoming to vampires, which is great, but he isn't completely sold on whether it's entirely safe to spend time in or not.

After he's inside enough to give Makoto space to follow, he turns around to face him.

"You've been here?"

The cafe - or is it really more like a bar? - is low-lit and small. The floor, walls and ceiling were all wooden, and aside from a few tables and chairs at the center, most tables are booths aligned along the walls. No windows.

It's mostly empty, save for a single person sitting at the bar, ignoring them. It's the full moon after all... Most vampires are bat monsters right now.

"Sort of," he says with a shrug. "Earlier today, after I did it" -- ihis euphemism of choice right now -- "I started wandering around. I wanted to learn more about the hell the other vampires managed all this. Turns out there are plenty of places like these.

He looks back to Dazai and smiles slightly. He'd been a bit cold so far thanks to the terrible mood that the moons put him in, but he can always muster a smile to encourage someone.

"Wanna sit down?"

"I see," he finally responds, making his way over to a couch that's situated relatively close to the bar's counter. The longer he spends in here, the more comfortable he feels, as if this really is a safe haven of sorts for vampires. He may end up spending a decent amount of time here as his changes become harder to get accustomed to.

"Well, it's comforting to hear that there are many places like this, at least. A small mercy for us, I could say." He'll still miss his crab and sake, though. That won't change.

"So, since this is a bar, what sort of food and drink can be served here? Blood cocktails? Blood sandwiches?" That last one makes him wince, albeit slightly. "How would sandwiches even work, I wonder?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Makoto huffs. He takes a set next to Dazai on the couch, tucking his long black robe under his butt as if it were a dress and then picking up his feet to prop them up on an ottoman. Now that they're farther inside, he can smell a faint trace of cinnamon among the subtle scent of the blood behind the bar. The couch and the ottoman is clean, and the rafters of the wooden ceiling above them are free from cobwebs. This place is pretty comfortable.

After his smile lingers on his companion for a second, he raises a hand to ask the bartender for a menu. A beautiful but modestly dressed woman, she walks around the counter to deliver a few menus before returning to work.

"I'm guessing drinks are a given," he says as he looks over the options. There's plenty of beverages containing blood, or alcohol, or even both. "Do you think vampires can still drink alcohol? Not us, but... the full vampires, I guess you'd say."

He, too, relaxes in a similar fashion as his companion, propping his legs up on the adjacent ottoman. He's used to lounging like this from the many times he'd avoided work at the office back home, and doing so now brings back those memories. Which, of course, elicit a grin across his face.

He turns his head to look at the bartender with that silly grin, nodding slightly. She doesn't pay any mind to him, which shouldn't be surprising. Unlike what he'd do back home, he opts not to say anything flirtatious to her. Instead, he comments on the menu once he refocuses on its selections.

"I hope they can! I'd love to have sake," he says, a very strong hint of whine to his voice. "I could have some with blood now, I'm sure, but later on -- I don't know. Oh! They have blood sandwiches!" They sound horrific, but Dazai is too curious to pass one up.

"I'll have this," he states as he points to that on the menu.

"Blood sandwich" is a brave option, to say the least. Makoto can't help but notice how enthusiastically Dazai orders it. His demeanor so far is markedly off compared to how Makoto had been coping with his newfound need for blood. It's like missing out on crab and booze are his biggest concerns.

"Maybe you didn't need my help after all," he says, subtly curious. After another glance at the menu, he folds it closed and hands it back to the bartender.

"I'll have the potato pancakes," he says, "and one of those... Tall Scratch, is it called?"

The menu described it as a cocktail of white wine and cat's blood. After the day he's had... why not.

"Maybe we can convince them to add crab cakes to the menu." He regards Dazai with a slight smile. "I didn't mean to drive you away from treating yourself. We should eat what we want while it still has some taste..."

Dazai has his closest friend here and alive, so he's happy, overall. Just not being able to consume his favorite food and drink is taking a bit of a toll on his mental health. It's rough to lose one of the things you truly love.

He's incredibly talented at shifting emotions on a dime, or even just pretending his okay on the surface. Hence why he seems so at ease about his physical changes.

"Oh, I do. I'll take all the help I can get." He shifts after Makoto orders to face him a bit better. "I'll admit that I'm a bit nervous to ask others for blood."

He nods. "It's fine." He's sure he'll be a grump later on, since he'll be changing every single day. He'd be a hypocrite if Makoto's attitude really bothered him.

Makoto settles back into the couch as well, allowing his weight to sink into the soft cushion. He takes a quiet moment to look inward before continuing their conversation. It feels good to be with someone right now, he acknowledges to himself. Perhaps it's because they're both vampires, but Makoto doesn't feel any need to tread carefully around Dazai. That's a first since he fled his house earlier that morning.

"I was nervous, too," he finally says. Maybe now is a good time for him to get some of this thoughts out, if Dazai is willing to listen. So far, it sounds like he has some things he may want to get off his chest too.

"But, a few weeks ago, I met a mirrorbound who is almost completely transformed. I didn't have anyone else to turn to, so I asked him for help, and he... let me drink."

He felt faintly disgusted during the hesitation in his sentence. Looking at his shoes, he adds, "I talked a lot about accepting it earlier, but I'm not over it yet either. Not completely."

Having someone likeminded to talk to is very nice, Dazai feels. Though, he does have his closest friend here he could turn to whenever he needs someone to lean on, someone to discuss things with. Oda isn't a vampire, however, so having a friend who is will ultimately benefit Dazai.

He listens and nods, deciding to respond when the timing seems right. "Fully transformed? As what? I'm assuming they'd been fed from before, otherwise they probably wouldn't have been so keen on you doing that so quickly upon meeting. But I'm glad that you were able to find someone." He sighs softly. "You know, I have someone I can rely on for anything here, but I wonder if I'm asking too much if I take blood from him multiple times a day. I should find other sources, but like I said, I get a little nervous asking someone new."

He gently places a hand atop the other man's shoulder as he witnesses him look down at his shoes. "It may take a while."

Makoto nods, confirming Dazai's suspicions about the source of his meal. "He's a dragon," he says gently, "and he had scars on his wrist that looked like bites. So, probably." He ponders, for a moment, mentioning what happened after he fed, but decides against it when the conversation continues on.

"You can always come here in the future, I suppose," he says with a smile after Dazai touches his shoulder. Smiling subtly, he looks back over at him. "They serve blood, after all. I heard it's not the same as getting magic from a witch, but it's something."

He can't help but blink at the answer, since, in his mind, he didn't expect it to have been a dragon that Makoto had fed from. Thoughts run through his mind as to how that'd even work, but the comment about bite marks on the wrist essentially answer that curiosity.

"That's true. I'm not one to heavily rely on others, so this is difficult!" He's lying; he relied on others far too much back home, oftentimes shirking his own duties for a certain partner of his to fulfill instead. "But this place here seems as if it'll be a blessing."

He's quiet for a minute or two, simply taking in the small, mundane details of the bar. Which he finds himself appreciating more the longer he looks around. He's almost in a daze when a plate is brought over to him.

It's a sandwich -- two slices of bread and something red and leathery between them.

"Ah, the blood sandwich. Why did I order this, again?" He chuckles, almost nervously, as he eyes it up.

what is the sesame street number of the day??

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go nuts making up whatever's in the menu if you want :D

k!

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