The Others

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by bluedragon1200, Jun 5, 2016.

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  1. @Killjoy
    Morgan Black walked through the cracked sidewalks of the city. The street lamps still illuminated the old buildings, standing quietly in the early morning haze. The sky began to lighten, but the sun still refused to show his face as the full moon lazily began to turn away. The chilly, brisk smell of autumn hung in the air. A cool breeze pushed through the green leaves of the trees, whispering of the coming time for change. It was the kind of weather Morgan enjoyed, though his stern features did not show it.

    He turned and entered a small park. Running trails looped through, but were vacant. The small pond reflected the dim lamp light like black glass. The birds refused to go near him or his target. Morgan stopped at a park bench and shrugged inside his large trench coat. He glanced down to the young man's form lying down, ghostly pale. Bite marks clearly visible on his collarbone.

    He pulled out a phone: Got another one. He reached down, black leather gloved hand hesitantly touching the man's chest. "Wake up, son."
  2. Killjoy's characters (open)

    Name: Kazimir Cervenka- “Kaz”

    Age: Early to mid twenties

    Gender: Male

    Species: Vampire (new)

    Physical: Average height and build; a medium somewhere between athletic and lanky. Messy black hair that has seemingly gained sentience post-vampire bite, growing at an absurd rate along with his fingernails. He’s forever cutting them. His skin has a pallor akin to the dead, and his incisors are permanently sharper than they should be. Black eyes with heavy shadows beneath them. He often idly scratches at the puncture scars by his collarbone and tends to wear darker colours, preferring autumn/winter wardrobes, since he’s always cold.

    Personality: Despite his incredibly European-sounding name, Kaz has spent more time away from his home country than in it. He’s the youngest and most insignificant in his huge family, so he’s used to being pushed off to the side and forgotten about (example: being shipped around to different private schools in America). This hasn’t made him bitter so much as self-contained and lonely. He has a sharp wit and comes off as prickly and sarcastic to most people.

    Other: He’s hemophobic (fears blood).

    Name: Cosmo White

    Age: Retained the form of a teenager/young adult but has been a ghost for much longer.

    Gender: Male

    Species: Ghost (poltergeist; can interact with people and objects)

    Physical: A trim, almost feminine build, standing at around 5’3’’. It’s hard to measure his exact height given the wisps of white-blue ectoplasm always trailing from him. His hair maintains the same waviness that it did in life. A mischievous, sly face set with silver eyes. His “clothes” are made of the same material as his body, the top forming a hooded shroud while the bottom appears to be pants tucked into knee-high boots. He’s fleet-footed and moves silently as well as nimbly, able to phase through solid objects and fall from any height unharmed. If he could quit giggling for more than ten seconds, he could probably sneak up on people.

    Personality: Cosmo is trapped in the world of the living despite being a spirit. He cannot recall if there’s some unfinished task he needs to do or if something has bound him there-- as such, he simply exists living one day to the next. He’s carefree verging on irresponsible and incurably playful and curious. Despite being one of the oldest entities in the house, he often requires babysitting to ensure that he stays out of trouble. Likes to tease and trick people.

    Other: His name was given to him by the house occupants. He can’t remember his former identity.

    Name: Dahlia Carver

    Age: Mid to late twenties

    Gender: Female

    Species: Human- urban witch (plant/nature witch & blossoming necrobotanist)

    Physical: Short and stocky, but she packs a punch, always perfectly groomed and dressed to kill. Urban witch fashion is not easily ignored. Dusky skin and brownish-amber eyes. Her hair falls in dark curl-ringlets and doesn’t like to do what it’s told, but she somehow tames it while also dying it unnatural colours (the tips are currently faded green). She likes to experiment with makeup.

    Personality: Despite her affinity for plants, Deliah’s not a tree-hugger; tree-defender would be a better term. She’ll yell at people on the streets if she catches them littering and gives out unsolicited advice on how to care for particular plants or animals. Dahlia’s fascination with death makes her odd to some-- especially when they see her crouched beside the park pathway examining a deceased squirrel. No-nonsense and moody as she may be, she cares intensely for the wellbeing of anything living and can play the part of the aggressive matron.

    Other: Her room is absolute organized chaos. She’s spent more money on crystals than on textbooks for school.

    Before anything else was an aching sensation. There was not a coherent thought in the man's head as he came to, lying drained and heavy in the park grass like a discarded food wrapper. Something touched him, and pain radiated where it made contact. Battered. Tired. Hungry. So, so hungry.

    A voice spoke. The man's eyes opened and tried to focus on the figure standing over him; humanoid, smelling of blood. Gaze vacant except for the feral desires of a starving animal, he snarled and lurched upwards, incisors gnashing together. This newfound vigor was dangerous but clumsy, and he missed his mark, mostly due to the fact that the stranger still had a hand on his chest. Thoughts empty and feverish, he gave a second even less human growl and tried again, limbs beginning to thrash as they realized that they were once again alive.

    Death was not always serene or violent. Sometimes it was just some lanky pale guy pitching a fit on the park grass.

  3. Name: Silver (Won't reveal her true name)
    Age: 25
    Gender: Female
    Species: Werewolf
    Psychical: She's thin, though athletic, and stands about 5'5''. Her nickname derives from her hair, which despite her age, is pure white. Her eyes are a brilliant color of gold. Her skin is fairly pale, easily showing bruises and cuts, though she tries to hide them. She tends to wear looser, hippy styles of clothing. As a wolf she retains her eye color and has a light gray coat.
    Personality: Easiy noticed in a crowd, Silver prefers to stay at home away from stares. She writes articles for magazines as well a novel series. First appearances would lead one to believe she is frail and a pacifist. Both assumptions would be wrong. She's known in the house for a quick temper and sharp wit, though she's a bit more cuddly to friends than strangers.
    Other: Her bark is generally worse than her bite.

    Name: Arabella Stinson
    Age: 40s? She won't tell, but she drops hints she could be older
    Gender: Female
    Species: Telepathic super genius
    Psychical: Arabella barely hits five foot. She's short and stalky with a kind, round face hidden by thick glasses, which magnify her green eyes. Her blonde hair is usually pulled back into a messy bun. When she smiles, which is often, her face shows a few fine lines and wrinkles, hinting at her age.
    Personality: Spacey and airhead would be impolite, though true. While kind and unaware of what's going on around her, she can also step into the mother role of the group. Often her powers get out of control, causing things in the house to move on their own, though usually harmless. She's on genius level, but has trouble recalling the information. She occasionally carry a pad and pencil around, usually looses them. She works as a professor at a university. She keeps her powers in check, though usually the computer malfunctions.
    Other: She knows Silver's real name and lives in the house for free, as Morgan owes her a favor.

    Name: Morgan Black (at least that's what he says)
    Age: appears mid-late 20s
    Gender: Male
    Species: Human?
    Psychical: Morgan keeps to himself. He has tan skin, dark hair, and dark intelligent eyes. He's tall with a slender build and often wears a suit or all black. Rumor is, he has tattoos with a secret code all over his body, but he will only chuckle if asked.
    Personality: Morgan doesn't speak more than he needs to. He has a commanding presence that keeps the house in check. While some occupants will give him a hard time, they soon fall in line. He doesn't reveal anything about his past or how he knows the information he does. Any rumors that spread about him, he'll usually brush off, neither proving or disproving the theory.
    Other: He looks quite charming in reading glasses.

    Morgan watched the young man frail about in an attempt to attach. The vampire abilities were new, he moved somewhat like a new born fawn. There was strength behind his motions, but little skill or awake intent. With the right training, he could be quite dangerous, but currently not so much. As he made his second attempt, Morgan rolled his eyes.

    "Stop fighting, I don't mean you any harm." Morgan said, his voice straight, with little inflection. "If you come with me, I can get you something to ease your hunger and shelter, which in about an hour, you will want."

    He glanced to the sky. The darkness of night was quickly fading and the start of the day approaching. The young man didn't have time to be obstinate, but convincing him in short period of time would be difficult. The crossed Morgan's mind, if he had to, he could carry the man to the house, but would likely encounter stares and have to deal with more confusion.
  4. The stranger's even tone had a tranquilizing effect on the new vampire's prey drive. Without the instigation of a victim's panicked flailing or screaming he began to settle, oddly still under the man's hand given that his lungs no longer had to suck in oxygen. The red pinprick glow of his pupils faded, leaving both eyes dead and black again. The first sensible thought of the day passed through his mind.


    It wasn't outstandingly intelligent, but it was better than the urge to try and chew a hole in everything with flesh-- though he was still ravenously hungry and tempted to do so. The vampire attempted to vocalize but found that he could only make a croaking noise. Grinding his fangs together, he tried again.


    God, his head hurt. Everything hurt. His stomach felt like there was a single hot coal inside of it. The promise of being taken to something edible was the only thing stopping him from reverting to a snapping, clawing mess.
  5. "Ah, there we go." Morgan said with a hint of a chuckle. He removed his hand from the man's chest and reached into his pocket as his phone vibrated. He glanced down with a smile forming on his thin lips. Walking all the way back to the boarding house would be agonizing for the young man. Luckily, Arabella had checked her phone and was with-it enough today to come to his rescue. He didn't bother questioning how she knew where he was. Even before cell phones, she had an uncanny ability to find people.

    "Turns out we have a chariot waiting for us." He said, offering a hand to help the young man up. "Call me Morgan. We have quite a bit to discuss and I think you will do better with some food in your belly."
  6. Had the world always been so loud? The vampire's head simultaneously spun and throbbed as he sat up, forced to clumsily accept Morgan's offered hand to have any hope of getting past that point. It was strange-- he could hear a heartbeat amongst other things, and it wasn't his own. His chest was cold and empty. Was something supposed to be there? He couldn't remember. Thoughts threatening to dissolve, he locked on to the word food like a lifeline and staggered to his feet, ungainly as a human-shaped lump of lead.

    "I'm..." he started to say before losing the direction of his words. From there the vampire fell silent, swaying mid-walk as he tried not to lean on Morgan.
  7. Morgan led the young man through the park. He kept an arm around the vampire, hoping to keep him steady. He moved at a leisurely pace, which probably made the poor man's head spin. The trees which attempted to hide the park from the city, soon broke to the quiet street. A person walked their dog, but did not appear to notice anything unusual. A small green Volkswagong pulled up, driver smiling through the open window.

    "Hello, Morgan!" She called. She wore a pair of goggles on top of her head and a matching pair of driving gloves.

    "Hello, Arabella." Morgan said in his deep voice. "I was afraid I'd have to carry him for a bit."

    "Ah, poor dear, poor dear." She said shaking her head as Morgan opened the back seat door for the young man. "By the way, you'll need to pick up more...snacks. I think this is the last. Awful lot of 'em popping up all of a sudden. Silver will be quite pleased when we bring him home."

    The young woman held up a water bottle, filled with a deep red liquid. As she spoke she shook it Morgan.
  8. Some more human analogies for the situation started coming to mind; the dawn air cleared his head a little, however much it still ached. The whole situation felt like waking up from surgery where the anesthesia dosage had been incorrectly strong, or the morning after an out-of-hand college party. Not that he'd ever gone to those much. Had he? He still couldn't quite figure out who he was, or if this was all some purgatory fever dream. The vampire groaned softly as Morgan more or less had to drag him along.

    He was barely cognizant of the green car that pulled up, or the goggled woman who rolled down the window and beamed out at them. He allowed Morgan to direct him into the back seat and sat there inert as a ragdoll until Arabella dangled something eye-catching from her hand. Something red. The young vampire had no clue what it was that reeked so strongly of copper but at the same time inherently did. His mustered composure falling away, he made a grab for it, newly-grown claws curling around empty air when his vision blurred and caused him to see triples.

    As he had back in the park, he made a guttural growling noise and tried again.
  9. Arabella could have rambled on for another hour, dangling the snack in front of the poor vampire. Morgan plucked the bottle from her hands and popped the small opening to drink from. He handed it to the young man.

    "Don't drink it all in one gulp. I don't want to clean up your mess." He said in a flat tone.

    He motioned towards the goggled woman drive on. The car gave a slight jerk as she put it into gear and began to put through empty streets. Dawn still struggled to break over the horizon, which made Morgan glad Arabella picked them up. The boarding house was only a few blocks away and in a car they would just beat the sun rise. As weak as the young man was, waking up with sunlight in the park might have killed him. Morgan sat, keeping his thoughts to himself. He waited for the vampire to feast and be able to speak with reason before explaining.
  10. With singular determination, the new vampire ignored Morgan's cautionary words, grabbing the bottle of red substance from his grasp and attaching to it like a leech. Apparently unsatisfied by the size its opening, he growled and chomped down. His fangs tore new openings in the plastic. What blood wasn't swiped up by the creature's snakish tongue leaked onto his clothes-- although they weren't in much of a wearable condition, anyways, given what he'd been through the night before.

    The water bottle was drained by the time their car reached the end of the block. Sitting dazed but calmer, the vampire held the empty container loosely in his hands. His eyes performed a very slow scan of the car's interior until at last landing on Arabella and Morgan.

    "...Where am I?" he said at last, voice tired and edged with an Eastern European accent that turned where into vhere. He reached up and gingerly swiped some substance from his mouth with the back of one hand, but didn't seem to recognize what it was.
  11. "He's not messing my car, is he?" Arabella asked as she put the small car in park, sitting under a cover on the side of a tall building.

    "I think that's the least of his concerns." Morgan said as the man quickly drained the bottle, red dripped down his tattered clothes. "This is the East Oak Boarding house. It carters to a special type of person."

    Morgan climbed out of the small car and walked towards the house. It stood four stories tall with a brick exterior, contrasted by the green trim. The yard was well taken care of and the porch had wicker lawn furniture, kept dry by an overhang. A flower bed circled around the house with an assortment of mums currently in bloom. A sign hung by the front door with scrolling letters, East Oak Boarding House.

    "We we talk about your current situation and options available to you, as well as how to handle your....abilities." Morgan said, reaching into his pocket for a key and unlocking the door.
  12. In a haze and no more informed than he'd been since he woke up, the vampire followed Morgan and Arabella as they exited the vehicle, finding that he could put weight on his legs and not totter about like the world's drunkest sailor. He peered around. A boarding house? Who were these people? Were they taking him here to murder him or something? Still drowsy and vaguely convinced that it was all a fever dream, the vampire surveyed the house's exterior and only refocused his attention when the door's lock clicked. Everything seemed louder and clearer than he remembered.

    He shambled up the porch after Morgan, resigned to whatever fate awaited him, and promptly slammed into something. The force crunched the empty water bottle still clutched in his hand and nearly his nose in the process. Teetering back, he blinked and tried to see what he could've possibly walked into, but there was nothing there. Just an open door. Confused, he looked beyond it to a dimly-lit sitting area further into the house. Two figures were seated at a coffee table-- sort of. One of them was blue-white and hovering over his chair to peek over his companion's shoulder. He glanced up when Morgan opened the door. His strange, glowing face broke into a grin.

    "Wow, Dahl, you called it again! It's a guy," he said, floating another few inches into the air to get a better view of their visitor. "Oh, and you're welcome here anytime, of course!"

    Something about his invitation changed the properties of reality for the young vampire. He took a cautious step forwards and found that the invisible barrier was gone. Too out-of-it to wonder why, he entered East Oak Boarding House.
  13. Morgan simply rolled his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen. He took the coffee pot and poured himself a steaming cup full. Arabella shuffled in and began pulling bowls from the cupboards and milk and eggs from the refrigerator. She shewed Morgan from his leaning place along the counter, forcing him to sit at the table with others. He pulled out a chair, offering it to the young man.

    "You forget the invitation every time." Arabella called.

    Morgan only raised an eyebrow. "I'm Morgan. I run the house. Arabella was our driver and this is Dahlia and Cosmo." He raised a hand and motioned to the other two occupants. "That leaves Silver, she should be in any minute."
  14. Bewildered, the vampire followed Morgan into the kitchen, trying not to stare at the strange floating entity called Cosmo as he approached the table and took a seat. Cosmo, on the other hand, was very eager to stare.

    "Oi, Morgan, where'd you find this one?" He sprawled out mid-air and propped a cheek on one hand, peering down at their vampiric guest instead of watching where he was floating.

    "You and your damn wisps better get out of my face," Dahlia muttered, swatting him away as she pored over a tarot card spread. Traces of ectoplasm clung to her hand. Blinking, the vampire glanced to each person as Morgan named them. Confusion created a small crease between his eyebrows. There were too many questions to ask. Instead of blathering them all at once, which he decided would get him nowhere, he scraped his wits together and searched his aching head for something to offer back.

    "I'm...Kazimir. I think."
  15. "Kazimir Ithink." Arabella said slowly over her cooking.

    "He's still new." Morgan grumbled taking another sip of his coffee. "Come sit."

    As he motioned, the house's final occupant entered. Her bare feet were covered with mud, tiny flecks of grass sticking out. Spots of blood stained her shirt, some dried, some still fresh. Her long silver hair looked unkempt and windblown. She rubbed at one of her golden eyes before pausing and sniffing the air. A long scratch stretched from the bridge of nose around her cheek, barely scabbed over. Her vague look of confusion swiftly turned to anger.

    "Another one?" She hissed towards Morgan. "A-bloody-nother one?! Where do you keep finding them and WHY do you keep bringing them in this house?"

    She swooped in on the young man, sniffing him. "He's young. If you left him outside, he'd be dead and out of our hair."

    "The only thing in your hair is a twig. Go get cleaned up, Silver, you've had a rough night." Morgan said, sipping on his coffee.

    "Worse morning." She huffed, turning to head upstairs. "I'll eat his shoes and piss on his rug!"
  16. "Cervenka," Kazimir supplied what he was reasonably sure was his surname, eyes darting towards Arabella. He clasped his hands atop the table, only then noticing the tapering points of his nails or the smears of some undefinable red substance on his skin. He had little time to consider what it might mean when a bedraggled female entered the kitchen and descended on him like his existence was a personal offense. Kazimir leaned away, returning her glare from the corner of his eyes. He hadn't a clue what being 'another one' entailed and remained bristled until she had left the room and vanished up the stairs. "...Charming."

    "Eh, don't mind her. She's not a fan of bloodsuckers is all," Cosmo chimed from his place in the air, hovering over Dahlia again. "What're the cards sayin', Dahl?"

    The young woman huffed to be interrupted a second time. She looked up from her tarot spread and fixed Kazimir with an accusatory stare. "Dunno. Vampires are hard to read."

    Kazimir's expression grew increasingly blank, as it often did when a person was so panicked that their thought process simply shut down. He glanced again at his red-smeared hands and then to Morgan.
  17. (Sorry, got busy)
    Morgan sighed at Cosmo's remark as he sipped his coffee. "There has been an increase lately. Something is up."
    He watched Kaz, as the young man noticed the red-turning brown-smudges about himself. Morgan turned his head slightly in confusion. "Are you alright?"

    Arabella looked over her shoulder. One of the kitchen chairs pulled out from under the table, scooted around, and caught the man at the knees, forcing him to sit. Slower with a passenger in tow, it made its way back to the table. Arabella turned back around, continuing with breakfast.
  18. ((It's okay!))

    "Uh-huh," Kazimir murmured vacantly, turning his wrists over to examine his veins. Beyond the stains that had come from messily feeding, they looked black. Blank-faced, he blinked. "It's just blood. Yeah. It's just-"

    The vampire unceremoniously crashed face-first onto the table. Cosmo moved to hover curiously above him.

    "Huh. Well, at least he stayed in his chair."

    From the seat across, Dahlia eyeballed their guest while scooping up her tarot cards, nails clicking against them as they were shuffled into order. Her gaze shifted to Morgan and Arabella. "What happened? You guys feed him bad blood or something?"

    The problem was that he was a huge hemophobe and had been fed blood at all, but Kazimir had no way of communicating this while unconscious.
  19. Arabella glanced over her shoulder, a look of surprise in her kind features. She blinked several times. Her lips pressed together as she thought back.

    " couldn't be the blood. Perhaps he is overwhelmed. Could you imagine walking into this house and seeing all of us? Cosmo's enough to make most people faint, no offense, hun." She said, returning to her cooking.

    Morgan reached out to the young man, giving him a slight shake. "Considering he doesn't have a pulse, he shouldn't pass out. Hey, Kazimir, come back to us."
  20. The feeling was odd, to say it least. Like being locked in a dark, quiet room, fully aware of it. Aware but not thinking or doing anything in particular. Just waiting for something to happen. Kazimir would eventually come to call this 'sleep', or the closest thing he could get to unconsciousness given his new condition. He was unsure how much time had passed when a faint voice reached him. Then a shaking sensation-- right. He wasn't some strange entity locked in a dark, quiet room. He had a body.

    And it wasn't a dream, either. Unfortunately. Kazimir slowly pulled his head off the table, blinking at the other beings who were still seated around him.

    "There we go!" Cosmo chimed from overhead, undeterred by Arabella's comment. To avoid looking at his blood-smeared hands, Kazimir turned his head towards Morgan.

    "Why did you bring me here?" he asked, wondering if it might have been preferable to be left in the park and incinerated come morning.
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