riverviewlogs

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

"Not likely to matter in terms of whats in its blood. Good thing about being undead, mate, you get to filter out most of the nasty bits when you're just drinking blood. Not a lot of diseases that affect a dead man." He grinned, watching the bug-man and his strange overreactions to every little thing.

Wikus stares long and hard at Spike, mouth slightly open, brow as furrowed despite his current lack of eyebrows. Then he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Where'd I lose you? Undead or dead?"

"The part where I'm pretty sure you just implied you're a- a fokken vampire or something, man!"

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!

"Implied? I flat out stated it." Really, Wikus. Keep up. Aliens weren't supposed to exist either, and yet Mr. Bug-face was proving that to be a lie.

"You did not, you- never fokken mind." There might be blood-drinking dead men out there who aren't vampires, Wikus isn't up on his folklore that's actually real in other dimensions, why is the universe like this. But he's not going to bother arguing the semantics of that.

"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.

Oh-ho. This one was easy to rile up. That made him more fun in Spike's book. And what was with the accent? Fooken? Was that even a word?

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.

Wikus wrinkles his nose. He didn't come out for a walk expecting to be talking about blood as a food source, but apparently that's just how it's going to be.

"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."

"Might do. If someone leaves Fluffy where I can get them." He's teasing. Mostly. But if push came to shove, Spike wouldn't be above sucking a pet dry, like a furry little Caprisun if he was starving.

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'?"

"You can't just-" He's interrupted by the fox making a break for it. "Come on! I'm just trying to help!"

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."

"Africa, eh? Haven't been down there in a while. A vamp can make a lot of ruckus down there if they have a good bolt hole." Or they could back in his day.

And sorry, Wikus. Most vampires were dicks to some degree. Part of being a demon.

Wikus presses his lips together in a thin line.

"Yeah? Well, you can just stay out of Africa-" Not just South Africa, the whole continent. "-from now on. It's already got its share of blood-sucking pricks."

He doesn't mean vampires. He means corporate suits like his father-in-law. The bastard.

"Probably more than. You know how many demons are camped down there? Loads. And ones that make you look pretty by comparison." Of course, these were two completely different realities, but it seemed there weren't many worlds that didn't have something nasty in it.

"Demons," Wikus says, in the flattest of flat tones. First a vampire, and now he's talking about demons?

"You know what, enjoy eating your fokken fox or whatever, I've got better places to be."

He's not even going to touch the crack at his appearance. He knows he's ugly. But it is way too late to deal with this nonsense. Time to head home and sleep.

If he asked, Spike would helpfully clear that up for him, but it was clear he wasn't going to, judging by the way he was departing. "What? Was it something I said?"

Wikus doesnt want anything cleared up. He wants to live in the ignorant bliss of not acknowledging that things like demons exist. (That's not going to work, but he will TRY, dammit.)

"Only everything!" Wikus snaps over his shoulder then mutters unflattering things as he continues on.

Open

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