dirtywhiteboy (
dirtywhiteboy) wrote in
birthright_rpg2014-04-26 08:59 pm
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Somebody in Boots
Years ago, Ruben had wondered how long it would take for the sun to burn him into ashes. It had been a random notion, one he hadn't seriously entertained, but he thought of that time every now and then. For a man who couldn't see himself in a mirror, he was strangely reflective.
It was three a.m. The bars had announced last call an hour ago. Even in Las Vegas, some laws still held. If you wanted to drink after two in the morning, you had to go home or somewhere else.
He was stepping over the legs of the dead man in the alley, heading towards the sidewalk. He'd learned to eat quietly. Someone would probably find the body eventually, most likely an unlucky garbageman. Nevada was warming up, careening towards summer.
There was a pale moon trying to shine down through the light pollution, and Ruben turned his face up towards it. The moon was cold, remote, but it was also kind. It wouldn't burn him.
It was three a.m. The bars had announced last call an hour ago. Even in Las Vegas, some laws still held. If you wanted to drink after two in the morning, you had to go home or somewhere else.
He was stepping over the legs of the dead man in the alley, heading towards the sidewalk. He'd learned to eat quietly. Someone would probably find the body eventually, most likely an unlucky garbageman. Nevada was warming up, careening towards summer.
There was a pale moon trying to shine down through the light pollution, and Ruben turned his face up towards it. The moon was cold, remote, but it was also kind. It wouldn't burn him.
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He'd heard small footsteps approaching, but he'd kept his attention on the sky. At three in the morning, anyone wandering the sidewalks was either not a threat or a threat that could be dealt with. And Ruben had been dead for too long to give a care to what anyone thought.
He was mildly annoyed because she'd distracted hm from remember the words to 'Rock of Ages', though. Some things, you never forgot.
"Awful late for you to be out, little Missus. You ain't worried you might see the boogeyman?"
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The girl reached out to wipe a speck of blood from his chin. “Messy.”
Dori was intrigued by vampires. It was like watching herself walk and talk in a funhouse mirror. The vampires were not living but they were not Death itself, either. No, that was her (at least, she was one of its forms), yet she was alive in every clinical sense. Two sides of a very macabre coin.
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"Yer a warm-blood," he said, but he was smiling. His coat flapped open when he spread his arms out, as though he might try to take flight. He was wearing a white button down shirt underneath it. He leaned down farther, looked at her eyes.
"Thought you was a angel," he twanged, straightening up. "But none of them would come near me, for fear I'd clip their wings."
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It was a statement, despite the ever-so-slight turning up of the end of the sentence, and Ruben laced his fingers together on the back of his neck. If he could smell her, could she smell him? Did he smell dead?
"God's a trickster," he told her, still smiling. His weight eased backwards towards the heels of his boots. "They say that when you die, you fly free of your body and go to paradise. But I got dragged back. Touched the divine for an instant, and got cast out like Cain. Guess that means heaven don't want me."
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He looked inward, as if at a memory, then shrugged again. His fingers closed around her wrist, not gently but not rough either, and he pressed them to the pulse that beat there. It was strong. Healthy.
"You might not be a angel, but you ain't no devil neither."
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But Dori regretted arriving late to the alley, after he had already done what he did. “I wish I had seen,” she said with a regretful look past his shoulder again. Then her eyes brightened. “Could you show me sometime? I’ve never seen a vampire bite anyone.” Death to Dori wasn’t a spectator sport; she did what she did to others, and often she saw accidents, or sicknesses coming to their natural conclusions, but to watch another drain life was a novelty.
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He took the liberty of touching her hair fleetingly, found the blonde strands clean and silky. She'd touched his face first, after all. He stretched his long arms above his head, as if he was reaching for the moon he'd been staring at earlier, then settled his weight back on his heels.
"Little Missus, I wouldn't mind that at all."
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“When would you show me? Where were you going just now?” Dori turned towards the open street. “I interrupted.”