HELL OF A HANGOVER PT. 2

[ringleaders]

Who: The people who were captured or turned.
When: Very early Day 66 to Day 67
Where: Vampire Hell
What: Those that were captured by the vampires are brought back to one of their demonic home dimensions to be imprisoned or integrated into the pack. People can start moving over here as they resolve their threads at the masquerade.
Warnings: Horrible BS, most likely. Violence, sexuality, torture, etc.

GOING TO HELL↴ You don't get to see what the outside of the fortress looks like, since when you were brought here, it was either by portal or by a ritual summoning ring set up by the vampires. However, the realm is easy to get the gist of - it's about classically hell dimension as you can imagine. Lava runs throughout the fortress like water in Venice, and the architecture is smooth black and grey stone that puts a significant effort into looking imposing. Skulls, demons, suggestive nudity - it's all carved straight into the pillars, or provided via ornate tapestry. It's hot, too, though not as hot as it should realistically be while standing at the edge of a lava pool. Prisoners and freshly turned vampires will end up separated - those that have been captured will be chained in iron and locked within a great stone cell within the center of a ring of lava (as pictured above), with only narrow bridges leading across it. Those that have been turned will be unceremoniously thrown into the living areas of the other neonate vampires - which turns out to be a cavernous pit of almost-rooms where a vast quantity of newly turned vampires have been left to sort themselves out. ► IMPRISONED: The supervisors (or other captives that have made themselves exceptions) will be bound with iron and left in a large cell kept separate from the rest of the prison. At first, they'll all be locked in there together - spread around the walls of the dungeon to be kept apart from each other, but able to communicate across the gap. As time goes on, they may be pulled away for "special treatment" - whatever cruel fate the vampires end up having in mind for them, whether that be interrogation, brainwashing, or simply aimless torment. Sometimes they'll be brought back, and other times they won't. How exactly they are bound is up to you, but at the very least each prisoner should have either a collar or shackles of iron, which will rob veteran characters of most of their powers. It will be extremely uncomfortable, too. ► FORSAKEN: The newly turned vampires will be introduced to their "hazing" almost immediately - that is, they'll be mixed in with the other neonates, apparently collected from at least three different words. Most of them appear human, however, so the looks of the new arrivals may set them apart - potential in ways that may cause them difficulties. These young vampires have been dumped into a series of caverns and left to live with each other, with animals or human victims occasionally tossed in for them to feed. There is not enough blood to go around, ultimately, and the human victims are highly preferred over the animals - these means there is constant and violent competition over who gets to feed. The ideal is for the neonates to thin their own ranks, allowing the strongest and most canny to survive long enough to be accepted into the rest of the clan. You'll want to stick together - after all, vampires can feed off of each other, as well. ► MORNINGSTAR: Apparently the demon in charge of this all is a creature that calls herself "Morningstar." You won't see her long if you see her at all - the only sight of her you see is a form within a black cultist's robe, with their face concealed in shadow. Beyond her, you can continue using adult or neonates vampire NPCS to torment your characters, or ask the mods for the presence of an elder, if needed. Whatever scheme is going on here, it's clear you're just another pawn.

Comments

The Imprisonment of Koel Babic | Open to Supervisors | NPC Requested!

[cuckooed]

[When everyone was brought back, the Supervisors were automatically bound in chains of iron. Shackled, collared, locked away. Not Koel, however.

A simple chaining and collaring wouldn't do for such a dangerous prisoner, Supervisor or no. She'd killed and injured vampires back in the first battle, when the demons had been blissfully unaware of her wretched existence. She'd had the intention to alert the Ringmaster that the vampires were at the Masquerade, certainly. She was a Supervisor, to boot. And how did one turn a creature who was already so unpredictable?

No. Koel would be a special case. The beasts would cage the bird, and rip her apart, slowly but surely.]


Caged

[There was no doubt where Koel was. She was the only one with an iron muzzle-and-mask-combo fastened on her face, with yards and yards of iron chains wrapped around her, until she looked like she was in a cocoon. Other than her face, her hands were wrapped in iron covers with inward spikes digging into her hands, and her legs trussed up similarly.

Said cocoon was hanging on the wall, inside a large iron box with long spikes poking inwards towards her, as well.

One couldn't be too careful, apparently.]

Mm. Looks like I'm not going anywhere.

[She's still defiant, no matter the pain she'd clearly in right now. And, she can talk, albeit her words are muffled by the mask. Don't leave her hanging, guys.]


Tortured

[Koel wasn't surprised. She was going to be tortured until she broke. But she wasn't going to break. She refused to, if only because she intended on seeing her grandchildren again. Also, someone had to make sure Sans did his job properly when they got back.

So, as she her hands were tied to the stretching track before her other chains were unbound (they knew better than to untie her chains before securing her limbs, after all), she simply gave her torturer the stink-eye.

They were lucky she was powerless right now. What she would do if it was the other way around. She's certainly tortured better vampires than these back in the day.]

Peridot | Open to all fellow prisoners

[periphrasing]

Intro (closed)

If Peridot was in possession of a more robust sense of shame, she'd probably be pretty embarrassed about how easily they managed to catch her. It's not like it took much to lure her away from the crowd; she's never been well known for possessing much self-restraint in any sense, and with her inhibitions lowered thanks to the magics of the Celebration, she's suddenly found herself with a clumsy libido akin to that of a tween on the cusp of puberty. All it had taken to pique her interest were a few come-hither looks from a sultry vampire lady, and from there it had just been a matter of luring her to a more quiet location. And then, once alone, before she could stammer out a single gay word, she had gotten jumped.

How they pegged her as one of the Ringmaster's flunkies is anyone's guess, but apparently she'd been a target from the get-go, according to the chatter between her assailants. Peridot had done her best to fight back with her newfound powers, an angry beast lashing out with searing claws and spitting flames at those who dared to get too close. But, in the end, the vampires simply had her out numbered, out muscled and out matched. Somehow one of them had managed to slap an iron collar on her, which pretty much immediately sapped her strength and put her out of commission. Then they'd given her a sound thrashing for her trouble.

There are some situations where being easily able to dissipate her form would be actually be preferable to enduring massive amounts of physical damage. This was one of those times. Having no blood made her no good for food, but those vampires sure did find her to be an excellent punching bag.

A. Anyone got a tin cup to rattle on these bars?

You're likely already in the cell when Peridot gets brought in, and it's not hard to hear her coming.

"Get your touch stumps off me you stupid-- cruddy-- CLOD--!"

Another vampire comes in with Peridot easily tucked under one arm. The gem is very obviously doing her best to be a pain, but even her best is essentially nothing. She's just sort of wiggling ineffectively, the lethargy and pain caused by the collar around her neck preventing her from putting up anything close to a serious fight.

They basically toss her against the wall and then move in to chain her up; she takes a bite and a swipe at them, bellowing angrily, which earns her a pair of iron cuffs in addition to the collar. Then they give her another swift kick and leave there wheezing in pain in a crumpled green heap on the floor.

B. Or a little while later...

Peridot makes for a pretty annoying cell mate, mostly because she can't decide if she's rancorous about her situation or if she's terrified. She mostly seems to have a pessimistic outlook on everyone's fate here, and her outbursts come in two flavors: agitated fussing with her chains (which involves biting and clawing at them despite the iron essentially being poison to her), or terrified babbling about how you're all doomed while she sits there hugging her knees and freaking out.

C. After a "taming session" (cw for potential body horror (gem growth on skin) further into threads, and implied mind control/brain washing in the prompt.)

After a while, things are very clearly... Not right with Peridot. Her erratic fervor upon first being tossed in here is gone, after halfway through the first day when one of the vampires comes and takes her away for a few hours. When she comes back, scuffed up and unusually quiet. She keeps staring at nothing, gaze unfocused. She doesn't say anything to anyone, nor does she fight back when the chain is affixed to her collar once more.

The same thing happens again the next day, and this time when she's brought back, things are even worse. This time, when she returns, she walks to the cell willingly and without protest, her vampire handler at her side. Her posture is strangely stooped, her gaze subdued, and now its the other prisoners that are subject to her wary glances when she actually cares to take notice of anything; she even hisses wearily at a few of them as she passes on her way to go sit at her usual spot when commanded. She doesn't even have cuffs on anymore, and she willingly sits still while she's chained up.

Her new vampire mistress gives her a condescending little pat on the cheek before leaving, to which she doesn't even react. She just stares blankly for a few moments, and then curls up on the floor like a dog without a word.

A

[osteothropy]

Sans is already there, it's true. His own collar is chained to the wall, and his hands have been bound behind his back with more iron - without his clothes or any other protection, he's more or less just a small lump of bones next to the wall, looking despondent. The white around his bonds is already starting to turn sickly blue, ectoplasm beginning to seep out from the intent strain it's putting on his body.

The iron is messing with his magic, and there isn't much more to his body than this. He's almost surprised that his bones haven't already given away beneath the pressure, as painful as it is.

If it's possible for his stoic face to look any more disappointed than it already is, though, it becomes a reality when he sees Peridot get dragged in. Fuck, he was really hoping they wouldn't get her. He can't really do anything to help, as it is.

"Peri, do yourself a favour and try not to piss 'em off," he says quietly, not having much to say that's actually comforting.

[periphrasing]

Peridot sucks in a ragged breath and uncurls herself enough to glare at him, eyes flashing behind her visor. "Wow thanks Sans, for that INCREDIBLY HELPFUL ADVICE," she snaps, slowly propping herself up unsteadily with one arm. Her tail swishes in her agitation, shoulders rising and falling heavily. She's just remembered something. "You... You're supposed to be the head of security, aren't you? How could you miss, that these CLODS were out there STALKING US the whole time!?"

[osteothropy]

Yikes.

He didn't really expect a positive response to what he said (as inherently earnest as it was) but the intensity of Peridot's derision actually manages to catch him off guard. He stares at her for a moment, more caught off guard than anything, and then just... looks away.

This is what he knew would happen from the start. He's been anticipating this for months. Can he even really be surprised?

The only part that hurts is that he'd really, genuinely tried.

"Dunno, Peridot," he says, after a brief silence. "It's a mystery."

[periphrasing]

The gem stares at him for a few moments longer, still panting heavily. It's definitely not a satisfactory answer, but somehow that fact has just drained the remaining fight right out of Peridot.

She collapses on her side again, momentarily overcome with nausea from the iron. After a few deep breaths, she opens her eyes and holds her claws up in front of her, staring at them dejectedly.

"My powers were useless," she mutters.

[osteothropy]

Sans doesn't immediately feel like he's much in the mood to reply, but what else is he supposed to do? She was just frustrated, he tries to tell himself. She doesn't really blame him for all of this. Does she?

Should she?

If he had a stomach in the technical sense, it'd probably be turning.

"Tell me about it," is all he can manage. A small show of commiseration.

Yuugi Mutou | open to the playpen

[toogoodtoopure]

arrival

[Anyone who knows Yuugi knows that he is not very violent, and chooses not to be. If he had his way, he wouldn't be here at all, but unfortunately he doesn't and is also very much not in the right state of mind to understand that his actions aren't normal. If his mind is actually coherent at all. It's sort of hard to tell when they all first get thrown in there.

He growls and snarls and snaps and gets thrown in there with the rest of them, ears pinned back against his head and hackles raised, teeth bared and eyes red. There's a laugh from their captors before the door to the pit closes and they're left to fend for themselves.]


chow time

[He didn't get much of a chance to feed at the masquerade, too busy fighting against the desire and will forcing itself over his. Here, though. Here, his reactions are wild, unchecked rage and aggression, spurned on by hunger. He's more dog than human or vampire, muzzle wrinkling and snarling and teeth bared viciously, ears pulled back against his head as he digs his hands and paws into the floor, standing his ground as three other neonates circle him. Underneath him is the body of one, torn and bloody, the evidence on his muzzle and teeth and hands, another body behind him.

They close in, and he growls, leaping for the closest. He snarls and rips into them, then another, barely stopping to enjoy the blood. Yuugi's hackles pull back, baring teeth at the last, who looks a little dubious like he's suddenly questioning his life choices about picking on the 'weaker' appearing of the new arrivals.

Every now and then he tries to wipe the blood from his muzzle with his hands, even trying to apply saliva to do it, but it doesn't work, so in the finish he ignores it. For the time being, it doesn't matter. Not when there's another neonate coming at him. Yuugi snarls and digs his paws and hands into the ground, back arching.]


like a bat outta hell

[Some time later, though, he seems to have regained control of himself, one of the key things being he was not walking around on all fours anymore, but that wasn't to say that he didn't drop down when challenged. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to get blood off. He wasn't sure if he'd seen anyone else from the carnival down here, which made him wonder if he was alone. Worst case scenario; he'd bitten one of them. Yuugi shook his head, keeping it down and hunched, ears folded back as other neonates moved around him.]

I need to get out of here.


wildcard

[hmu!]

[periphrasing]

She keeps rambling to herself, only tangentially aware of whether or not Sans is listening. "I could have gone home. My contract was up, I could have just left. But no! Instead I had to get big ideas and sign another contract so I that could learn to do something I wasn't made to do!"

A Snake in a Tank | Open to Neonates

[ophidiarex]

A - Arriving

After being unceremoniously thrown into the pit, Snake's a little disoriented. That's to be expected. However, what he doesn't expect are the neonates who rush forward, as if he might be a source of blood. He curls around Emily and covers his neck as best he can, but is still bitten several times before they realize he's all but out of blood already. They're discussing killing him when he tries to crawl away, and one stamps down on his back, forcing him to the ground. He could use a hand here! Fortunately he's not the only one being tossed down.

B - Being

This is not a good place for Snake, that much is for sure. He's been trapped before, starved before, and it brings back old memories that he didn't want to think about. At least he's never been threatened with roving parties of neonate vampires before, that much is new... And because of said threats, he's curled up in the corner of a dark chamber that has few fresh scent trails. Hopefully, no one thinks to look for him here. Except apparently whoever just found him. Great.

C - Craving

They may not be here long, but they still have to feed. Snake isn't dominant enough or brave enough to compete for direct feeding, but time's passing isn't kind to his empty veins. For this reason, he's teaming up with whoever he can trust to ambush other neonates as they leave their kills and take turns feeding on them. Maybe they'll be able to get enough to satisfy them... but with two feeding on one (three if you count Emily, but she's nearly satisfied with the three liters she drained from Snake) it seems unlikely. It's also dangerous; two starved taking on someone with blood in their veins is pretty even odds. But then again, they have desperation on their side.

[osteothropy]

Apparently he is listening, because he responds to that sentiment after a small delay. His voice is usually fairly calm, but there's a heaviness to it right now that he usually avoids showing off. Like he can't be fucked too bother with any laid back facade.

"That has nothing to do with it," he says. "Even if you were built for it you still could have failed."

Sora | Open to other babby vamps

[destiny_key]

A: is for Arrival

Sora's pretty out of it for a while after being thrown down the pit with the others. A mixture of resisting the hunger, resisting Xabat, and his whole world getting shaken apart has him pretty fuzzy-headed and out of it, and it's hard for him to think.

He gets shoved down a few times, but luckily no one really takes him as a threat, and leaves him alone for the most part while he's unable to look after himself. He's still not really aware of what's going on around him, though.

B: is for Lets Get The Hell Out Of Here

After a bit, he seems to come back to his senses, and begins looking around with a bit more earnest. He's still a bit jumpy, and he'll pull the Keyblade on anyone he's not completely positive is from the carnival, but mostly, he'll be looking for familiar faces. Any familiar face would be great right now.

He's putting on a brave face, but honestly, he's a bit frightened. They're in danger here, and they need to find a way home. As soon as possible. Maybe he can help with that.

C: is for Wildcard!

[come at me, bro!]

B!

[destiny_key]

Sora's still coming to, but he's definitely a lot more awake and aware than he was earlier. Certainly moreso than he was the last time he saw Snake. Either way, at least he can think and talk now.

And he wants to talk to Snake. He hasn't quite grasped the seriousness of the situation yet, the fact that he -killed people-, but he knows enough that he did wrong by Snake, and he wants to apologize.

It does take him a while to find the guy, but when he does, he just sorta. Stares a bit. He's not sure what to say, now that he's found him.

This'll be awkward! That's awesome!

[ophidiarex]

It's not hard to find Snake, but it is time-consuming. He's dragged himself deep into the caverns, gotten lost more than once, and his trail overlaps itself a few times if one follows by scent. Whatever Sora's methods, they pay off, and he'll find his former prey in the dark room. Vampire night vision is excellent, but with so little light, Snake's all but invisible, curled in the back of the room. His white hair stands out, as do his formerly-pale-now-bloodstained clothes. Those have been torn in parts by neonates so hungry that they would drain blood from cloth to drink it; all in all, he looks like the victim of some horrendous crime. Which, in a way, is accurate.

He looks up at Sora's approach, then drops his eyes again, pulling his legs in closer. He's a little scared of most neonates, but Sora's attack was the first, and sticks with him most strongly in the traumatic swirl of events. It doesn't help that Sora is just staring. Emily pokes her head out of Snake's shirt, and hisses faintly, but he's too nervous to translate. Instead, he behaves in a way his instincts tell him is submissive. He reaches up with shaking hands and pulls down his collar, tilting his head to bare the side of his neck. He's got nothing to give, or next to nothing, but Sora can take what he's got. He's scared stiff.

[control_freak]

A. Just Eat A Guy

[Foster hasn't eaten since he was turned. Not once. And his ability to try... it's nonexistent. He's violently disgusted by the mere idea of someone else's blood in his mouth, and has been since long before his turning. Even a single drop, even a microscopic trace--any animal protein, any meat at all was contaminated to him, so intense is his repulsion--he'd been obligated to maintain a vegetarian diet right up until his death. He would much rather die than even contemplate that action. But Sora, exerting his control, continually denies him the power to kill himself.

With no relief from pressures physical or psychological, he's becoming increasingly self-destructive in his desperation.

For the most part, he seems 'content' to crouch on the floor, jaw clenched, his fingers tangled in his hair--just short of ripping it out in chunks--or digging at his throat, where the stitches from his previous state of undeath still lie embedded in the flesh.

He looks for all the world like he's lost his mind.]

B. Nevermind, I Take It Back

[Foster has spent his entire life obsessed with the need to hate himself for his defects, for his flaws, for his worthlessness. He is aware--very aware--of what he does not have that other people do, and a certain measure of who he is--how he thinks and feels and behaves--has its origin in that knowledge.

But key among those deficits is the disconnect between himself and other people. A disconnect known generally as empathy, or the lack thereof--he just feels nothing for people, and he knows that puts him in the wrong. So maybe it's no great revelation that during the masquerade attack, he discovered that he does have the capacity to kill--and kill without remorse. At least when provided with the opportunity for moral justification.

Now he has learned something else.

He's learned it doesn't take moral justification at all.

All it takes is imperative. No, not even that. Permission.

Absolute, indiscriminate permission is all. And killing another person is simply painless. Well--almost. Except for the awareness of himself, and what this says about him. Self-defence is an excuse. The rescue of another person is an excuse. A requirement for survival is the worst excuse of them all. It's all just an excuse to him.

He doesn't feel bad at all.

And yet, he feels horrible--he is guilty of not feeling guilty. He should feel disgusted. Grieved. Revolted. Instead he feels inhuman and yet totally void of reaction. He was upset for at most half an hour, and that for all the wrong reasons. He should be... what? Punished? How? Why? What does this make him? Is this what he was good for after all? He hates himself for the thought. He hates it, and yet it's almost a relief. To know for sure. He was capable of this all along.

He deserves this.

By the second day, he is much calmer. He regards the other neonates with a kind of... dispassionate ambivalence, crouching not far from his teenage sire. His distress is no longer so visceral, for sure. But he's less 'accepting' than he is now merely resigned to his fate.

It's only when he catches sight of visible distress (or a total stranger) that he rises--abruptly, impulsively; he staggers, actually, swaying slightly before achieving momentum forward.]

You feel bad, right? You care--you do, I know you do.

[He's either staring through his target or hyperfocused on them, either radiating intensity or eerily calm. ]

Well? What does it feel like?

C. Somewhere In Between... (Wild Card)

[Hit me up on Plurk or Discord--or just surprise me!]

They're both awkward turtles

[destiny_key]

In the dark, even with enhanced night vision, it's hard to tell what's going on. Sora practically has to squint. But he can hear just fine, can hear Emily hissing, and it doesn't sound friendly. Squinting into the dark, Sora can see Snake, but...

He seems nervous. Or scared. Is he... scared of Sora? He sucks in a light breath (despite not really needing to breathe anymore), upset, though he can't say he blames the guy. He'd probably be scared of him, too.

And then Snake pulls his collar aside and... wow Snake has really got the wrong idea of him. Sora doesn't want to frighten him, but he doesn't know how to make this right. Or, as right as he can. They're kind of stuck in the hell dimension.

Sora stops for a second, still unsure, and walks towards Snake, stopping a few paces away. He stays for a second, and then sits on the ground, cross-legged, and tries the best way he knows how.

"...Hi..."

[ophidiarex]

That, he wasn't expecting. Snake releases his collar and furrows his brows, puzzled. Emily curls back and hisses softer. "'Hello.... why are you here? It's dangerous,' says Emily..." Getting straight to the point, as it were.

As he speaks, he lowers his legs until they're straight out in front of him, pointing towards Sora. It's not as comfortable a position as being curled up in a ball, to be honest, but it's a lot more open and inviting and hopefully doesn't show that he's still pretty scared.

[destiny_key]

"Well, I..." Sora starts softly. He's still not sure what to say, or how to explain. He barely even remembers what he did, but he knows it was bad. Anything to do with Xabat had to have been.

"I... I wanted to apologize. It's my fault that you're here... I should've... I shouldn't have let Xabat get to me like that. I don't remember much but..."

It's stilted and awkward, and maybe it doesn't make much sense to anyone who isn't him, but he's trying.

Jamie Hemeros | Zoids New Century /0 | OTA

[mildwildchild]

Irvine's night has been a bust.

His cool snake-man escaped, he'd failed at turning the rock guy or the catboy who'd come to defend him, and the only person he'd managed to keep hold of is an abject failure of a vampire.

He's pretty bitter, actually, and only part of that is due to the fact that he'd missed out on helping to capture the carnival's senior staff. He'd heard that one of the other vampires had sired a kid who had promptly sired another kid, and that kid had gone around punching people over snakes or something. Another guy had a neonate the size of a small car - that one would make a promising member of the clan in a few decades or so.

Irvine's spawn, though? Was an embarrassment. Thousands of mortals to choose from at that party, and the kid had gone after a man with stone skin, a skeleton, and somebody with enough drugs in his bloodstream to kill a horse. Either Jamie was the unluckiest vampire ever, or his predatory instincts were nonexistent.

Thus, Irvine isn't going to be too torn up if this one doesn't make it out of the neonate pit.

A: Daycare!
He drags Jamie over to the edge of the pit - the kid is still pretty out of it, making only the barest attempts to keep his footing as Irvine hustles him along - and shoves him down the stone staircase. Jamie actually manages the first couple of steps like a normal person, then loses his momentum and falls the rest of the way head over ass, landing in a heap at the bottom. It's only due to his newfound durability that he's not seriously hurt by this, but the potent cocktail of drugs lingering in his system is enough to keep him down. It's also enough to warn off the older neonates looking for easy prey - whatever's wrong with Jamie, they don't want it happening to them.

B: Separation anxiety!
It takes a while for the drugs to wear off, and at some point in that span of time Jamie's fumbled his way (or been carried, or dragged, or kicked) over to an alcove along the periphery of the pit. As he comes to his senses, his only thoughts are of food and his sire, and his devotion to the latter outweighs the former. Groggily, he seeks out Irvine's dominating presence in his mind; it's there, but much fainter than it's been the rest of the evening, and carries a distinctly disinterested air, as though Irvine's grown weary of him already.

Struggling into an upright position, Jamie investigates the mind-link with his sire, seeking acknowledgment, approval, guidance - and receives only a cold rejection. It's the mental equivalent of don't bother me and a door shut in his face. Jamie visibly cringes, adrift and frightened without the comforting control of his sire. Shakily he gets to his feet, leaning against the wall of the alcove and looking uncertain.

"What...do I do now?..." he murmurs, gazing out at his surroundings for the first time.

C: Juice and graham crackers!
Without Irvine to worry about for the time being, Jamie can fully appreciate how hungry he is. That pint of blood he drank from Sherlock was the only real sustenance he'd had since he was turned, and it wasn't nearly enough to satisfy him. He needs to feed, and soon.

But he's as horrified by his desire for blood as he is terrified of the violent fights over prey that he's witnessed down here, and those two factors are enough to keep him rooted in place, becoming hungrier and closer to utter frenzy with every passing minute.

Finally, he makes a move, driven out of ravenous hunger and opportunism. He spots a neonate who looks like they might be weaker than him - someone who either has prey that he can take, or that Jamie can kill outright to feed on their blood - and slinks from his alcove to confront them.

Speech and rationale are all but gone in his current state of starvation. He bares his fangs at the other neonate, and as he stalks toward them all he's able to grate out is, "Need."

D: Wildcard!
[Make up your own scenario! Irvine is also available for shenanigans if you want him, just specify in the subject header if you do.]

C

[mildwildchild]

Jamie is probably not someone Snake can or should trust, and the feeling is pretty much mutual in this situation, but Jamie can appreciate that Snake does not seem to pose a direct threat to him personally, and that the two of them together stand a better chance of taking down another vampire than either of them do alone. These aren't things that he recognizes on any conscious level; he's too hungry to really think the way he would have as a human, but these factors occur to him intuitively, and so he acts on them.

At present there is another neonate finishing the carcass of a somewhat sheep-like animal that he's dragged into a little recessed area partially blocked off by crumbled columns of stone. These provide privacy for the feeding neonate - as well as an excellent ambush point for Jamie and Snake.

The scent of the animal's blood is almost more than Jamie can stand, but somehow he reins himself in, fangs distended and ears pricked as he observes from his perch on side of the entrance to the alcove. Finally he looks to Snake with red, slit-pupil eyes.

"Get ready," he mouths, and hunkers down into a crouch, coiled to spring as the older neonate approaches the ambush point.

[periphrasing]

Peridot shoots him A Look, and then glances back away again. "Whatever," she says sourly. "It was only an excuse to stick around because.... because Amethyst was staying. But now Amethyst doesn't want to associate with me anymore, so... So this whole thing was just completely POINTLESS!"

[ophidiarex]

It's fine, is Snake's reflexive thought, before he realizes him much it really isn't. It's NOT fine, it may never be fine again. He's got a bad feeling that he's going to die here, that no one's coming. That no one ever will.

He's felt that before, though, and then someone came, so maybe it's possible. But then again, that was in a symbolic hell, not a real one. He's positive this situation is worse.

But he has to respond to Sora, the silence is getting awkward. "'You didn't want to hurt me?' says Emily..." Confusingly, Snake's speaking in the first person, as he sometimes does, and not referring to the snake.

[ophidiarex]

It's not trust per say, but at least Jamie's from the carnival. Even through the haze of vampiric starvation, Snake can recognize that much. That's good enough for now. He may be dangerous, he may even try to kill Snake if he acts out of turn, as he's a vampire neonate on the verge of starvation, but he's still a comrade in arms in a way.

It helps that Snake is submissive and meek for a vampire, though. A wolf in sheep's clothing, maybe, but not a threat to another starving neonate. Emily, coiled around his neck, is better fed than him, and keeping him sane where others wouldn't be, making him safer to be around.

Most of the other neonates are a different story. They're dangerous, little more than attack dogs after weeks or months starving in the pit. They've lost all semblance of sanity.

Then there are the oldest ones, the survivors. Starved but coldly calculating, these vampires master the pit. They're terrifying, almost ready to join the vampires' proper orders as adults.

Snake's not been here long enough to know the difference; one can only hope that they're attacking one of the former. He nods, a short sharp motion that their prey doesn't notice, so absorbed are they in their new food source. Snake mimics Jamie's crouch, lowering himself to all fours to push off with his arms and legs.

Gongenzaka | MEET ME IN THE PIT

[otoko]

[Breathe In...]

[His mind is such a mess, he doesn't even completely realize he's no longer at the 'Celebration' until the haze of his Sire's voice has fully faded, and he realizes he's standing upon stone. Gongenzaka's clothes are somewhat stained and patched thanks to the fighting, but for the most part they seem quite in one piece. It's astounding, certainly.

Less astounding is the crushing realization of what he has 'become', even if his teeth failed to properly draw any blood from a victim.

On the bright side...he seems curiously alone. Which is for the best, he thinks as he fights the urge to bare his teeth and growl at nothing. He doesn't want to risk finding out how anyone is fed down here.

Not with experience at least.

He finds himself a corner of stone, curling his legs beneath his body and resting his hands over his front with a sigh. Just focus. He can cut through this, he's certain, if he just focuses.

Breathe in....breathe out...

And don't think. Don't think. Don't think...]

[...And Bleed Out]

[Eventually the neonates can't keep away from one of the new presences there. For the most part they've been keen on avoiding what's obviously one of 'them'...to an extent. No standard vampire fare is 9 foot tall and coated in fur after all, and the sheer size of the incisors he has is enough to give someone a second thought. It would only take one bite...

And aside from getting drained, they'd probably lose an arm, dettering even those who would fail to recall the fact that they can feed on each other in a desperate situation.

It only takes one however. One creeping near, their fangs bared, and stance low. Gongenzaka's eyes snap open, and as much as he's done well to fight down the blending mess that are his instincts as a beast and his instincts as a hungering vampire, this is something they cannot abide by.

The vampire's warning is a growl. She stays put. Gongenzaka attempts to close his eyes again, and she darts forward, gaining a rise immediately-

And more importantly a crunch. When his teeth sink into the vampire's shoulder, the fangs bore directly through. She herself could try to bite back-if only her neck wasn't at such an angle that it were impossible, leaving her screeching and clawing at his his hide as she's pinned against the ground and drained dry.

It is a messy business. And it is the breaking of a dam, Gongenzaka's eyes and ears turning toward the next nearest sound, the next neonate in line to have witnessed the comotion.

It's going to have to be a lot more than a one-on-one to take him down.

And he's hungry.] Hahhhhh....

AAAUURRRHHHH!!

[Like the Wild Ones Would]

[He lost himself. He did not go back to count how many, but he lost himself, and the neonates have scattered since then. Finding any others doesn't help-either they're lost themselves, or they're being attacked and when he witnesses the latter it becomes impossible to keep his rage and instinct from blinding him. A true 'stone lion', driven to protect...and to kill to that end.

There are animals in here.

Their blood tastes weaker than the vampires by far, but he forces himself to accept that it will in the end become one or the other, and the first elk he sees wandering in fear, he chases. Chases, pounces, and bites, but it does not stop there. By the time anyone finds him in any right mind, a few chunks of the beast have been torn off, chewed up, and swallowed. He's done his best to absently clean his snout since then, but bits of blood still stain his chin in particular, his tongue occasionally stretching to lick what edges it can curl against.

He hears sounds, but at least by now he has enough restraint not to turn and growl. Instead his ears merely turn and focus, his eyes dull.]

Joker - open to captured

[pipers_son]

A - Captured v1

[For someone who had been such a pain in the ass during both vampire assaults- as someone with a lot of energy and the ability of flight is prone to be- Joker is.... surprisingly docile when they're brought into Hell proper. This is probably a relief to his vampire handler, on account that it's actually surprisingly harder to keep a one-armed man still. After all, only one arm chained up means that he could still twist about a lot more easily than someone with two, and a wing to the face is never a pleasant experience even if it's not exactly painful.]

[But no- he keeps his wings tucked in tight, and his head bowed, and the stage manager is eventually chained up to the wall by his one wrist and, apparently for lack of many other options, his ankles.]

[When the vampires finally go and it's just all of them left, he finally lets out a whistle and slumps back. Against all odds, he's grinning once more- although one might notice it's a bit strained.]

Well. This is a load of shite, innit? I thought she- [wow wonder who he's talking about] -took care of this? Am I loony or could I have swore she was gonna take care of it?

Captured v2

[At some point, Joker gets brought away, staying as obedient as he was when he first came. It's either interrogation or torture, and the words "I'm the bleedin' stage manager, what do I know" may or may not have been uttered.]

[Apparently that wasn't enough to get him a free pass, because he's brought back with one antler cracked, shimmering opal all the brighter in it, and the side of his face brilliantly bruised as if he was smashed into something. (He was.) There's the smell of blood about him, but it seems likely that his clothing is hiding wherever the wound is.]

[When he's finally back in his shackles, he swears something awful under his breath and glowers up at the cell door.]

Fuckers. At least they didn't go for my hand this time.

[His tone says that he's expecting that to change the next time he's picked up.]

C - fuck vampires (NPC Fuckery)

[He's biding his time.]

[Joker knows he's not the best fighter in the carnival. Definitely not the best magician, although all the iron that's been steadily burning through his wrist would ensure that it wouldn't really matter anyway.]

[But no one is perfect. If they just let their guard down for one second...]

[Time to go through the ringer again- they've unlocked his chains to take him along, and he lets himself be hauled up even though a grimace passes over his pretty face as his wings shift for balance. They tore up his god damn back the last time, and every stretch or curl of his feathery limbs sends a spam of pain throughout his spine. He's waiting for them to start plucking the feathers or just straight up cut them off next- although maybe that'd make him less attractive. He can't tell if they value him as a pretty bauble or chew toy more.]

[As he's escorted out from the cell, his bright pink eyes warily survey the vampire that's doing it today. He'd be chatty, normally, but.... he doesn't think he should waste any breath.]

[Likely he'll be screaming more than enough to make up for it.]