Spike (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idolpire) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-05-10 11:59 am
idolpire) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-05-10 11:59 am
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.
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.
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The dark of the evening hours is still kind of comforting, even if he's given up burying himself in a hoodie. It got kind of pointless trying to hide his transformation after the antennae grew in. No hood could comfortably hide those.
He's still pretty sensitive about his progressively more alien appearance, though, so when a guy hisses something while he's passing by, he just assumes it was about him.
Spinning around, he snaps at Spike, his own South African accent clear. "You got a fokken problem, man?"
Have an irritable man whose entire scalp and half his face are covered in green exoskeleton.
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Spike, making friends since... never.
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If Spike was more intimidating in appearance rather than slim and shorter than him, he might have backed off with a stammered apology. Instead...
"Hey, I'm not the one whispering things behind people's backs!"
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"Then who the fok were you talking to?"
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Yelled into the darkness and there was a returning little yip that, yes, sounded fox-like.
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Wikus would be very embarrassed now, if he wasn't busy being baffled. "A... A fox is following you?"
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As to the question, he gestured off to the night in the direction the yip had come from. "Seems like it. Don't know if it's trying to take a nip out of me or is just incredibly stupid. Seen people walking around with them like pets here. Maybe this one got off the leash."
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He glances into the dark, but his night vision isn't any better as a half-Prawn than it was as a human. "...why were you talking to it?"
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In answer to that, he shrugged. "Maybe it might pick up on the tone and sod off. Not looking for a pet."
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"Paying attention is probably just going to encourage it. Unless you're throwing rocks or something."
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"Ignoring it hasn't worked. I'm thinking I might be able to get it close enough to snag." Don't ask why, Wikus. Don't do it...
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He's not going to ask, because his initial assumption is snagging it for beating or killing. People can be real bastards to strays. "Hey, man, if it's a harmless stray, just shove it in a box and take it to the pound."
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Close. Spike did need to eat, after all. And fox's bled red blood. Might be tasty. "Why would I do that? Or are we not allowed to eat anything cute and fluffy here either."
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Well, that makes Wikus do a double-take. "Why the bloody hell would you eat a stray pet when there's fokken food aplenty here?"
Like, if you're starving and desperate maybe, but the Riverview government has been very accommodating.
"It's probably got parasites and diseases even."
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"I'm sorry, what?"
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He actually sounds more irritated than disbelieving. He's encountered a lot of weird shit in Riverview so he won't discount it, but... Vampires aren't supposed to exist! What the hell!
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"Look, don't eat the fokken fox, man. Isn't there a, I don't know, a blood bank around here you can hit up instead of terrorizing small animals?"
He should probably be more worried that he's talking to a self-professed undead killer in the dead of night, but he's still having trouble feeling intimidated by a guy that looks like he walked out of a men's underwear ad.
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Spike shrugged, more amused with playing with Wikus now than teasing the fox. "Look, mate. I didn't ask it to follow me around. If it wants to play close enough at getting a nip, then it might get nipped back. Nature of predators. Besides, the city's all fine with giving out little fake synthetic bags, but it's really not the same. It's like making a meat eater choke down tofu."
Underwear ad? Oh, please voice that so Spike could have a good laugh, Bug-boy.
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"That's disgusting, man. You going to eat people's pets next?" He glances between Spike and the area he heard the fox a few times before squatting down.
He pats his knee and puts on a sickly sweet voice. "Here foxy, foxy. Come to Mister Wikus so he can take you away from the nasty man who wants to eat you."
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As for the fox... Well. It gave Wikus a yipping little snarl from the darkness, and Wikus might see a flash of dark and silver before it hid itself a bit more. Sorry, Wikus. It seemed the stupid fox had already decided on a new friend, and it wasn't buggy prawn man. "Mister Wikus? What, is that your name? Couldn't decide between 'wicked' and 'chuckles'?"
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Giving a bit of a huff, he gets back to his feet. If the animal doesn't have enough sense to stay away from the guy who wants to eat it, then he supposed it's just natural selection...
He shoots a glare at Spike. Are all vampires this obnoxious, or just this one?
"Yes it's my name. Wikus." He enunciates the syllables very clearly, VEE-kis. "It's Afrikaans."
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