#🔑.m!a: inky boy

[unstcrblich]

Yeah.

shadowedstray‌:

Give me a minute, then. I’ll get him somethin’.

And then I guess you’ll need somethin’ for the shadow magic, huh.

It feels like it’s sucking the life out of me. I’ll have to hope he’s more invested in helping me after he eats something.

[unstcrblich]

Motherfucker.

[unstcrblich]

Just give me a blanket of bubble wrap. It's fine.

[unstcrblich]

So I’ve hit my head 3 times in the last two days that I’ve been human and this is probably why I’m such a fucking moron.

[unstcrblich]

I can't believe you're in a gang.

Everything’s fine.

[unstcrblich]

I forgot what normal hunger felt like.

[unstcrblich]

One nice side effect of all of this is I can actually do things the living do again. Like eat and drink.

I’ve been avoiding coffee because I’m sure it’ll make me jittery but I really miss it and I’d hate to let this opportunity go by...

[unstcrblich]

I can’t believe Stray had me eat straight salt.

[unstcrblich]

"Don't breathe. It helps." Its difficult to get used to, but not breathing is definitely an option here. He holds up the letter opener, just in case him being armed brings some comfort to Domenic.

"Yes, I know this is a stupid idea, but if you isolate yourself you'll go insane. Or feral, which is arguably worse. Besides, I know what I'm doing. I've been a vampire way longer than you." The letter opener remains raised between them as Deitrich steps forward. He's trying to stay calm, but he feels ink dripping from his nose again. He doesnt wipe it away, as if the sudden movement would flip a switch in Domenic. "I think the best way to deal with it is to go after some assholes you hate. That's what I did. You got a list of people you want to get rid of?"

Mistakes

@diamentechiaro

All he did was ask nicely. There’s no way in hell he could have done it otherwise. But he asked, the terror delivered, dropping in inside Domenic’s apartment. It feels weird not needing any kind of invitation. It also feels like he’s going to throw up, which he promptly does into the sink. Looks like he landed in the kitchen. What a great place to be when you’re a human in a house with a fledgling vampire. He’s starting to think the terror let him get this far just to watch Domenic tear out his throat–which he’s very aware could happen. That’s why he brought a silver letter opener.

It’s Stray’s. He’s only borrowing it.

“Domenic,” he calls out, a little weaker than he’d like. He’s still freezing despite pulling on a coat. The ink’s stopped dripping off his body, thankfully, and all he has to deal with is the cold. He doesn’t hate the cold, he just wishes it didn’t remind him so much of dying.

There’s no way Domenic doesn’t know he’s here. His heartbeat is level, but it’s probably like a drum to a fledgling. The letter opener is held tightly in hand as he peers out of the kitchen towards the living area. This might be somewhat torturous to Domenic, but going through vampirism alone could drive even the strongest willed person insane.

[unstcrblich]

I think today is tied for the fourth worst day of my life.

[unstcrblich]

there’s ink my mouth, gross.

[unstcrblich]

There’s ink.

[unstcrblich]

90 years, Domenic.

I might actually cry.

I missed food so much.

[unstcrblich]

@diamentechiaro tell me you’re still here

[unstcrblich]

M!A: How about you swap powers, species, and just about everything except your body with Domenic?

“What?” Deitrich asks aloud as his eyes skim the question. Next thing he knows he’s very dizzy and it’s suddenly very cold. A hand flies to his neck, pressing against the pulse just under his jaw. Sure enough, there it is. Pounding away at… well, it’s going quite a bit faster than a human heart probably should. Probably because it’s been more than 90 years since Deitrich was alive, and now he’s suddenly alive again. It also feels like some sort of weight has been lifted from him, as the fever-like hunger of vampirism has been silenced.

He is very. Very cold.

Like any sensible human being the first thing he things to do is look in a mirror. He can normally see himself in mirrors, seeing how they stopped lining them with silver and started lining them with aluminum some time ago, but there’s something hypnotizing about seeing actual color back in his features. He checks his teeth. Those are normal. He could cry right now.

Except something also very terribly wrong, and a sort of terror has been creeping closer and closer to his chest even has he’s admiring how he looks when he’s alive again. It’s cold. His limbs feel like ice, and they’re getting colder by the second. It’s like when he was left in the snow, a hand loosely laying over the hole in his gut as every drop of blood spilled out of his body. Is he dying?

The idea of dying again is horrifying. He’s been through it once before, and it was bad enough the first time. It’s not usually something you go through multiple times. The cold is really starting to creep in on his chest now, latching at lungs that now need to breathe but no longer want to. Deitrich sucks in a sharp (and surprisingly painful) breath, his head dropping slightly as he stares down at his hands. Those are there. Those are real. He’s seen dying men many times before, and their hands aren’t pink. Just focus on something, Deitrich, focus on anything–

Something drips in the sink. It’s coming from his nose. He stares down at it, watching as another drop of something joins the first. Deitrich very slowly raises his head to look at himself in the mirror. 

Is that ink?

[unstcrblich]

I missed food so much.