phantastus (
phantastus) wrote in
dazlious2014-03-13 11:01 pm
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Call me animal.
WHO: Heather Mason and Maurice Hutch (OC)
WHERE: Dogtrot, Texas
WHEN: Just easing into spring.
WHAT: What probably would have been a night spent loitering around the drug store and breaking bottles in the alley like generic malcontent youths takes several unexpected turns when a vampire hunter interrupts Maurice while waiting for his friend from up north.
RATING: Probably PG. CW for violence, mild body horror and transformation.
awsum
ill be outside where the rentareel used to be
Maurice had put out the call and now he was in his place, hands in his coat pockets. He hadn't seen his friend for a while now. One thing or another would come up (said things including worrying mothers, various injuries, and plain bad weather) and now that at least the weather had calmed its bad self down, the world was ready to be trampled again.
And what a night for it! It was clear with chilly breezes sneaking around buildings and down alleyways. An orange moon hung low on the horizon and kept the clouds far on the edges of the horizon. It wouldn't rain for two more days. Spring was coming. The tiny green shoots had just barely started poking out of the ground where there was enough actual soil instead of the red clay of Dogtrot. Crispy dead leaves still hung in the corners where the buildings met the sidewalk. Easter candy all but overflowed on super market shelves.
The vampire thought of all the things they would do once Heather got there. They could graffiti the old building marked to be torn down the following week since it was technically not illegal anymore. They could eat pizza at Tod's until they were sick. And DRANKS. And Sega. If Meranda hadn't taken over the sofa for the night. An outlet in her room had blown (or so she said) so she spent a lot of time on the sofa during her WoW raids.
Something interrupted his thoughts. He had lived in Dogtrot for years now and not a lot surprised him. He knew the local vampires, he even knew a local spook or two. He knew the drug addicts and the few homeless and what they sounded like. What he heard on that empty chilly street was none of those things.
"Quack quack!" It was mechanical. Grainy.
Maurice lifted a brow and tugged his phone out wondering if Meranda had passive-aggressively changed the ring on it again.
"Quack quack!"
"The hell...?" It wasn't his phone. Maurice pocketed it and looked all around. The quack came from an alley across the street between a now defunct QUICK CASH and what was going to be a shiny new laundromat. Maurice looked both ways and ventured forward into the gloom.
The garbage can at the end of the alley quacked. Maurice screwed up his face in thought. Broken toy that suddenly came back to life? Stranded cyborge duck?
Up above on the rooftop, a long and lean and very crafty hunter was watching his prey fall for his trap hook, line, and sinker. His father had been a hunter--a normal hunter. Deer, ducks, rams. He had watched him make odd noises to get the attention of the deer. A whistle or a click to make them stop in just the right place. Sometimes to even lure them in.
Humans were the most curious animals that he knew of and though the thing in the alleyway wasn't human (not in the slightest) he had to watch it in fascination and amusement before he made his move.
Maurice peered into the trash. There was an old Talkboy straight from the eighties in the trash quacking away.
"Oh, man, sweet!" It was all his! He reached for it. Something dressed in full army camo descended upon him and drove a thin knife into his shoulder. Maurice screamed like a wildcat and the fight began.
WHERE: Dogtrot, Texas
WHEN: Just easing into spring.
WHAT: What probably would have been a night spent loitering around the drug store and breaking bottles in the alley like generic malcontent youths takes several unexpected turns when a vampire hunter interrupts Maurice while waiting for his friend from up north.
RATING: Probably PG. CW for violence, mild body horror and transformation.
awsum
ill be outside where the rentareel used to be
Maurice had put out the call and now he was in his place, hands in his coat pockets. He hadn't seen his friend for a while now. One thing or another would come up (said things including worrying mothers, various injuries, and plain bad weather) and now that at least the weather had calmed its bad self down, the world was ready to be trampled again.
And what a night for it! It was clear with chilly breezes sneaking around buildings and down alleyways. An orange moon hung low on the horizon and kept the clouds far on the edges of the horizon. It wouldn't rain for two more days. Spring was coming. The tiny green shoots had just barely started poking out of the ground where there was enough actual soil instead of the red clay of Dogtrot. Crispy dead leaves still hung in the corners where the buildings met the sidewalk. Easter candy all but overflowed on super market shelves.
The vampire thought of all the things they would do once Heather got there. They could graffiti the old building marked to be torn down the following week since it was technically not illegal anymore. They could eat pizza at Tod's until they were sick. And DRANKS. And Sega. If Meranda hadn't taken over the sofa for the night. An outlet in her room had blown (or so she said) so she spent a lot of time on the sofa during her WoW raids.
Something interrupted his thoughts. He had lived in Dogtrot for years now and not a lot surprised him. He knew the local vampires, he even knew a local spook or two. He knew the drug addicts and the few homeless and what they sounded like. What he heard on that empty chilly street was none of those things.
"Quack quack!" It was mechanical. Grainy.
Maurice lifted a brow and tugged his phone out wondering if Meranda had passive-aggressively changed the ring on it again.
"Quack quack!"
"The hell...?" It wasn't his phone. Maurice pocketed it and looked all around. The quack came from an alley across the street between a now defunct QUICK CASH and what was going to be a shiny new laundromat. Maurice looked both ways and ventured forward into the gloom.
The garbage can at the end of the alley quacked. Maurice screwed up his face in thought. Broken toy that suddenly came back to life? Stranded cyborge duck?
Up above on the rooftop, a long and lean and very crafty hunter was watching his prey fall for his trap hook, line, and sinker. His father had been a hunter--a normal hunter. Deer, ducks, rams. He had watched him make odd noises to get the attention of the deer. A whistle or a click to make them stop in just the right place. Sometimes to even lure them in.
Humans were the most curious animals that he knew of and though the thing in the alleyway wasn't human (not in the slightest) he had to watch it in fascination and amusement before he made his move.
Maurice peered into the trash. There was an old Talkboy straight from the eighties in the trash quacking away.
"Oh, man, sweet!" It was all his! He reached for it. Something dressed in full army camo descended upon him and drove a thin knife into his shoulder. Maurice screamed like a wildcat and the fight began.
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"Just--hold still dedgummit!" He found her shirt collar and managed to pop it down over her-- her-- or not. "Your big dumb beak is in the way!"
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Against all odds, Maurice managed to yank the collar down and out popped... a comically tiny black head with two oversized eartufts and a scruff of blond hair.
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He started to snicker.
And then he started to laugh.
He held his stomach and leaned forward, losing his shit over this...this SOOT GOBLIN THING that his friend had become--the friend who could pick him up by his ankles and hide shit from him on top of the fridge.
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"... WHAT! What's so funny? Stop laughing! ... Why are you HUGE?"
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He sank to his knees and reached out for her claws so he could hold one up and show her.
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And then the words died in her throat as her COMICALLY SMALL CLAWS were held in front of her eyes, which went very circular at the sight.
She was silent a moment.
"... What the."
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"We're lettin' all the cold air in here. C'mon."
And he wagged her into the living room where there was more light and a large glass door for her to see herself in. He put her down squarely in front of it.
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It's her customary response to being picked up unexpectedly, but when she's THIS small, there's even less she can do about it.
But any and all protesting ceases when she's set down in front of the door.
She stares.
".... What the fuck."
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His mom would know what to do.
But did he...really want her to see this? She had a vampire for a son and had seen all kinds of things, but Heather did the spooky halo thing sometimes and he wasn't sure how well that'd fly with Margret Hutch. He shook himself. She wouldn't be back for a while.
"Did you see anything weird up there?"
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She leaned in to squint suspiciously at her reflection, only to startle back when the length of her beak resulted in her INADVERTENTLY PECKING THE WINDOW.
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"Try to change? I mean, if you can make yourself fifteen feet tall..."
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"... I can't. ... Maurice, I can't!"
A note of panic had entered her voice.
WHAT IF SHE WAS STUCK LIKE THIS?
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"Don't panic!" He lifted his hands in a sort of shooshing gesture. "Don't panic! I've gotten stuck plenty of times! I think--maybe you just need to wind down. Yeah."
Maurice was the one who was starting to panic.
"You wanna watch some TV?" He abandoned her by the door and rushed to the sofa where he started fishing for the remote between the cushions. "We can watch some TV."
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"TV?! How's TV supposed to help?! I'm like, three feet tall!"
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That's a Harry Mason Fact (tm) that had frequently been brought out when Heather had wanted to watch TV late into the night and it couldn't possibly have any hidden bedtime-related motive behind it.
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"Oh look! Big Time Big Mouth is on!"
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Making a noise not unlike a dying seal, Heather sunk to the floor and grasped her fluffy yellow head with her claws.
8[
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Without hesitating, he strode forward and scooped Heather up under the arms before sitting down the sofa and placing her on his knee.
"It's gonna be okay."
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It's with this instinctive knowledge in mind that she allows herself to be plopped down on his knee, eyes wide and circular again.
"... How. How is it okay."
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"Is this really the weirdest thing that's happened to you?"
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But finally, reluctantly, she mumbles "Well... no..."
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"Yeah, but at least being a bat has a PURPOSE. What'm I supposed to do like THIS?"
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