riverviewlogs

Entry tags:

Open

who: Spike and whomever
what: Looking for new digs and scavenging for stuff.
when: Soon after his arrival (2nd week of May)
where: The Inhabited Area and likely the Abandoned City.
warnings: Spike being a jerk? Possible language. Edit: Biting, drinking, the vomiting blood in thread w/Cain.

Flatmates. The only ones he'd ever been able to stand had been the ones he was shacking up with, and for the better part of a century, that had been Dru. Oh, they'd been off and on again a few times, but this... well. This was a bit more permanent. And now he was stuck in a room with a bunch of other living bodies. Ones he couldn't take a nip from. It was likely better than Xander's basement, but only just.

And a job. Seriously? They'd given him a bloody job and expected him to just... do it? Clearly they had no idea who they were dealing with. But, as he hadn't entirely sorted out an alternative yet, he wasn't ready to piss away what was being offered. Not until he'd set something better up for himself. Surely this place had to have a graveyard. A set of crypts. A nice little mausoleum tucked away he could take as his own, yeah?

For the next week, each time the sun dipped down below the horizon, Spike could be found leaving the shared accommodations to go scour the city for just that. Looking for where the city might have its graveyard, and deciding to snoop past the fence that encircled the population and led out past where he'd been told the wild things may roam. Well, that was all fine and dandy, wasn't it? He was a bit wild himself. Could be he'd come across something he could vent a little of his frustrations on -- aside from the small dark shape that smelled like fox that had been shadowing him partway through the week. The area was rife with them, the city boasting people walking around with them like pets.

Spike didn't do pets. He ate pets. Though, he had a feeling that kitten poker would be frowned on here. Pity. He wasn't too bad at it, and they weren't bad for a late morning snack.

Perhaps someone might come across him with a shopping cart full of odds and ends he'd found and salvaged. Or maybe they'd see him slipping into the cemetery, when he finally found one. Or he could be heard talking to the shadows or hissing at one and telling it to stop following him. Who knows? Spike's a bit of an odd duck, but until he figures out or is told a way to be able to not burst into flame in the sun, he'll only be seen during the night-time hours.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fatima liked to spend time by the fence, looking out into the darkness. Sometimes, when she was feeling lucky, she'd scan the horizon for a weed of some kind, something she might be able to manipulate with a spell. She never learned more about the wilderness than she already knew, but any progress, even stagnant progress, was better than nothing.

She would perch herself on the edge, using the pointed heels of her stiletto boots to balance. Artemis and Liam would sometimes make fun of her for doing all of her physical training in the boots. Gym shoes were the norm. But as she continually pointed out, it wasn't like she would get to choose what she was wearing when a vampire attacked her in an alley.

It was one of the few fights she'd decisively won.

Around the time when she was getting good and bored, thinking about calling it a night, she finally felt it. A sudden, little burst of cold in the pit of her stomach, like she'd just swallowed an ice cub. But it radiated out, traveling down her limbs in a cool shiver.

Fatima called it her 'Cainite radar.'

Boredom was quickly replaced by attention. She straightened herself up on the fence, like a setter who'd just picked up a scent. Slowly, her hand crept into her messenger bag, finding one of the wooden stakes she carried.

"Come out, come out where ever you are," she mouthed, doing a silent Glinda the Good impression. "Marcel?" she said aloud, looking around. He was the only Cainite she knew of in the area.

Oblivious to anyone with any sort of radar, Spike was currently pushing at bits of the fence, looking for a break in it to slip through instead of having to scale it. Not that he couldn't, but this was easier and Spike certainly preferred easy. He did hear a name called out into the night, but as it wasn't his, nor one he was familiar with, he didn't pay it any mind, booted foot kicking at a post to see if there was any give to it. "Come on, then. Open up for Spike. I don't bloody well want to climb this thing." Quiet and muttered to himself, he growled a little as fingers with chipped black nailpolish grabbed at the fence and gave it a good, powerful shake.

He thought he heard something grinding a little ways down, perhaps a split or bit of good luck heading his way. He let go, took a look around, then started to head to the area he'd heard the sound from.

There was no reply from Marcel. And considering the tentative peace the two of them had established, there really should have been. So, okay then. New Cainite on campus. That was both distressing and...in a weird way Fatima would never admit...comfortable. Vampires were the one kind of monster she knew how to deal with. And extremely effectively too.

Quiet as a cat, she jumped off the fence, landing in a squat in the shadow that it cast inward. It seemed, though, that she needn't have bothered with the stealth act. Whoever it was, they weren't all that concerned with being heard.

Open up for Spike.

He'd better be talking about the fence, she thought bitterly.

Standing up straight, Fatima followed along the length of the fence, the shivers getting stronger as she came nearer. She took one of her stakes out and shoved it down, between her skull and the elastic of her ponytail, just in case. Then she wrapped her hand around the second one, still inside the bag.

It was the hair she saw first. The moonlight gleamed off of it, making him look like his head was on fire. The thought nearly made her laugh. That was her job. The second thing she noticed was the polish. If he was from her world, he was definitely a Brujah. She hoped he was from her world. Brujah were so easy to deal with. They always had more muscle than brain.

In a split second decision, she decided to see what kind of vampire she was dealing with by playing an old favorite: The lost tourist game.

Well, not exactly a lost tourist, since this wasn't LA. But whatever the Riverview equivalent was.

"Uh," she said, dialing up her West coast accent to an eleven. "Are you okay, dude?"

He paused as he was about to bend to look at what seemed to be a split in the links, rolling his eyes as he looked up at the dark night sky. He only half turned, not wanting to interrupt his search for what was clearly going to be a pain in his ass. "Shouldn't you be off looking for a surf that's up or a chili dog? Whatever valley girls prefer that isn't pestering a vampire in the middle of the night while he's busy?"

Honestly. It was like some people wanted to get bitten. And him with the bloody chip in his head still. Unlife was cruel to him.

Well, he probably wasn't from her world. Not the way he casually threw around the word 'vampire.' It gave her a genuine moment of surprise, which she quickly decided to leverage to her advantage. After all, a valley girl would be surprised by the word too. Just in a...very...very different way.

"Puh-lease," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're no Brad Pitt. And since when have you ever heard of an organic chili dog? Gross."

Okay, it was possible that last bit was genuine. Fatima wasn't especially a fan of chili dogs.

She took a few tentative steps forward, canting her head to one side to better observe her mark. He had a distinctness about him. It was more than the cheap Billy Idol look and the accent. His cheekbones could cut glass. How old was he? Young enough to know what peroxide was, she supposed. But Marcel's breed of vampire didn't follow the standard Cainite rules. So it was possible he didn't either.

Fatima really hated this 'multiverse' bullshit.

"Authors are the death of vampires, I swear to bloody hell. Gave Dracula a big head and had a bunch of namby pamby groupies thinking all vampires sparkled or dressed like bloody poofs." Spike turned, the pale of his hair and face the only spot of anything bright in all the dark he wore. He gave her a very blatant roll of his eyes. "You know how annoying vampire groupies are? Calling themselves bleeding 'children of the night' and drinking wine out of goblets and thinking they're all that and a bag of crisps? Idiots. The lot of them."

Please, Fatima. Idol stole his look. Did well with it, yeah, but Spike was the original British bad boy -- or so he liked to tell himself. "Go on, like a good little vapid barbie doll. I've got things to do."

His world had vampire groupies? That was sickening. Of course, to a certain extent, Cainites attracted them too. But at least they had the benefit of the blood bond and supernatural thrall that came with it. Anyone who was voluntarily into vampires needed a straightjacket.

Still playing the role of the 'vapid barbie,' Fatima took another few steps forward. "What kind of things?" she asked. "You're not supposed to be at the fence. We're not supposed to go outside."

She could only imagine how she would have responded if someone had said that to her.

The words 'go to hell' came to mind.

"Omigod," she hissed, channeling her inner Auntie Diana, "are you trying to break out?"

"Says you. No one puts a leash on me. I'll bloody well go out if I want to." And he planned on it. Besides, he hadn't strictly been told not to go outside. He'd been advised it wasn't wise, as there were 'dangers' out there. But he was a danger himself, so why the hell not?

He bent back to the fence, looking at where he'd seen the split. "I wouldn't have to 'break out' if they put a proper gate in, would I? It's their own fault, isn't it?" So there, strange lying valley girl.

"I guess," she said, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Fatima had considered taking some more drastic measures against the fence, recently. Even lighting it on fire, just to see if it would burn. She was no more anxious to be fenced in than Idol Boy. But his incautious approach didn't jive well with all of her training. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe he would collect some of the data for her. Let the vampire stick his neck out. So far, she had no evidence that he was up to the Order's standards in terms of morality.

But none that he wasn't, either. He was a bit of a jerk, sure. But so was Artemis. And she was their damn leader.

She folded her arms, watching him from where she was. "But where are you gonna go?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject