BETTER ON THE OUTSIDE ☆ vampirism mutation

[michael t.]

LIKE THE MOON SAYS TO THE DARK — His teeth had been hurting for days. Michael had no idea what had caused the sudden and unpleasant pain in his jaws, especially considering he hadn't done anything lately to irritate them. He hadn't bitten down on anything especially hard, fell onto his jaws, or even so much as looked at his teeth the wrong way in the mirror. Despite this, the thief was in near constant pain, having to keep his jaws parted slightly just so that he wouldn't clench them and make it even worse. He had been trying his damnedest not to let the sudden ache get in the way of his duties, especially considering he was trying to help Roxie as much as possible. They were a bit shorthanded with Goldie out of commission, and he couldn't exactly help if he was curled up in his house, bemoaning his sudden condition. Thankfully his duties as a reaver didn't include too much talking or fighting, or else everything would've been so much worse. For the most part, the full extent of the talking part of being a reaver was welcoming people in, and making sure that everyone of a lower rank was doing their jobs, which he could do in just a few words. So, at least he had that in his favor.

Unfortunately, as the days had gone by, his teeth had begun to hurt more and more, getting to the point where he could barely stand it. His head was spinning from the pain when he awoke that morning, a soft whine leaving him. He hated the sound of it, but he couldn't help it, his ears flattening down to his head as he yanked himself from bed. Most of the steps after that were a blur, all muffled together in a conga line of colors thanks to the pain. However, he eventually ended up near the prey storage, picking up a rather large rabbit to bring back to his hut. He thought that perhaps eating would distract him from the pain, or ease it in some way, and... well, he had technically been right. As soon as his teeth sank down into the rabbit, he suddenly found himself drooling as the taste of blood hit him. He didn't know what came over him, but it wasn't long before the piece of prey was thoroughly torn apart, blood dripping from his jaws and staining most of his front. He frowned as he looked down at his paws, now stained a rusty red color from the prey animal's blood.

He felt slightly groggy, and half of him wanted to take a nap right then and there, but then he noticed something – his teeth weren't hurting. Not only that, but his mouth still felt... odd, in some way. A frown coming to his muzzle, the bobcat pushed himself upwards, taking several large strides towards the sea. Opening up his mouth and staring into the reflective water, he found himself stunned what he saw what was there. Instead of just his usual pair of pearly whites, there were now four new additions. Two pairs of long, razor sharp fangs, one set on top, and one set on the bottom. He stumbled back from the water at the realization, falling on his ass and simply staring ahead, seeming stunned. It wasn't long before he found himself muttering, showing off his new assets, "Oh... oh, shit." — WE WILL NEVER BE APART

[Keona.]

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If I fall, get knocked down, pick myself up off the ground

The physical signs and symptoms of vampirism were only known to the Dealer in the same sense she knew what stars were.  With her pale hues, Keona could never point them out to someone.  The petite fae did know when someone was having a rough time though.  Could hear it in their walk.  Their breath.  Their voice.

She'd been listening to the water.  The push.  The pull.  The rush roared in her ears sometimes; a memory.  Still.  She didn't pull away from the shoreline.  She did find her attention shifting, following stumbling paws and shocked murmurs.  Ears flicking back, Keona rose to her paws and broke the short distance in-between, brows creased.

It was always Michael, wasn't it?  Hopefully it wasn't more fleas.  "Michael?" Her usually soft voice lifted with concern.  "Are you okay?"

✯ — keona sibéal ní faoláin. female. dealer of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

[GEORGIA.]

Georgia wasn't far from the shore; she'd found a device within the tavern that could serve as a floatation device so she could finally get out into the shallows without getting wet and using the water to support herself. While she didn't completely mind getting wet, staying afloat got exhausting after a couple minutes. Besides, it was never really a danger - most sea life respected her presence rather than felt threatened by it.

It just so happened to be on the same beach that Michael chose to observe his reflection that Gia also happened to be floating in, her craft gently rocking in the shallow waves. Her eyes flickered up to the jeweled feline as he made a brisk path to the water - and stuck to the red staining his muzzle and chest.

"Uh, Michael?" Georgia echoed Keona's concerned tone, glancing to the spotted dealer who was a short distance away. Gia had seen her around rather often but had never spoken to her one on one - she should probably get to know her better at some point. Turning her attention back to Michael, the sandy colored feline noticed him checking his teeth. "What, did you lose a tooth? Where did all that blood come from?"

[Luciferr]

JAIME ROUX

"vengeance is just hope with a history"

this family really was quite something huh?

Jaime had woken up to fevers that had eventually subsided into simply running warmer than everyone else - that had then progressed to weird intrusive feelings and thoughts that felt more inclined to the animalistic - and now days ago he’d started growing pale and black scales, with the first layers emerging painfully from his itching scratches.

And now uncle mike seemed to have discovered vampirism if that brief glance Jaime caught of fangs was anything to go on,

Well at least he wasn’t alone in sudden additions - although he couldn’t speak to what was happening to him (he just really hoped he wouldn’t wake up a snake sans all his limbs one day).

Green eyes atop a cheek half covered in pale white scales glanced from Keona to Georgia to uncle mike and the blood around his shed teeth - one paw now also sporting curls and threads of small pale and obsidians scales rising to his own teeth and half wondering if they might also follow uncle mike’s example.

It was already weird and disorientating enough growing scales.

tags - penned by LUCIFERR

template by orion

[michael t.]

LIKE THE MOON SAYS TO THE DARK — A strange wave of nausea came over Michael as he heard voices, and saw others coming over to see what was happening. It was only natural they'd want to know, considering the rather startled state he was in, but he couldn't help but feel... scared. All the tales of vampires he had ever heard said they killed indiscriminately, searching only for their next warm source of blood. Of course, when he saw Keona, Georgia, and Jaime, he didn't feel the sudden, insatiable urge to feast on any of them, but the worry still lingered, in the back of his mind. He swallowed thickly, the taste of blood still lingering within his mouth, before he addressed Keona first, his voice a low mutter, "I'm... I'm alright, I think. Well, not all alright. Actually I'm kinda freaking out?" His voice cracking a bit at the end in a way that made him wince. He sound like a damned irrational teenager, but he couldn't help it. What was the standard practice, when you suddenly had some damn big fangs grow in, and the revelation that you liked drinking blood?

Turning his attention to Georgia next, he found himself wincing at her question, despite his best efforts not to. He knew that he hadn't done anything wrong to lead to all of the blood currently splattered across his paws and chest, but none of the others did. It would be incredibly easy to assume that he had done something that would lead to a little more than just apologies. He hastily spoke up, his speaking a bit clumsy, what with the huge new additions to his teeth, "Yeah, I lost a tooth. Four, actually, considering these things..." He gestured to his new, large fangs, before he continued, "The blood is from a rabbit. It's over near my hut, actually. I... drank it?" It sounded more than a little odd to his own ears, as evidenced by the way they flattened down against his head, mismatched eyes narrowing. Eventually he finished a bit lamely, allowing his gaze to focus on Jaime and his... recent developments, before he spoke, "I think I might... I think I might be a vampire. I know that sounds... fucking ridiculous, but I've got these new teeth, and I drank that rabbit's blood. Christ, is this family just... cursed to weird transformations?" He wasn't technically a Roux in name, considering he had only really been adopted by Roxie and her children. However, it certainly felt as though he was adjacent enough to be affected by their nonsense.— WE WILL NEVER BE APART

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; width: 60%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Upon the blood within veins of those once courted by the cruel kings of long past eons may a curse run afoul, yet of it they may only offer futile guesses. Of it they harboured only the circulated observations, whispers tainted beneath falsehood, tall the tales spun with each breath.

Clinging the wet grains laced with decaying hints of lingering foam, the rise of the low set tide lapping against their ankles, speckled pale paws that moved in a languid tread. Split their time between the overfull home and the humid depths of untamed jungle, desire a quiet lull drawing them along hushed shore. Premature the conclusion of their walk, however, the peace of their solitude broken by voices both familiar and not, forth drawn ears as vision trailed over expanse of sun bleached sand.

But shifting shapes of varying hue those that gathered together, curiosity peaked even as worry arose in the tight confinements of dry throat. "Michael…?" Distance closed within small intervals, name felt odd against the curl of their tongue, a quiet whisper arising as the crimson wash drew poor eyes. Lost his explanation upon the salt laden breeze, distance closed by hesitant little steps. "Are… are you… dying." Strangled whisper the last word, lower lip trapped between teeth as though halted any further words.