sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Breakfast Feast

WHERE: Lawn in front of 6I Inn
WHEN: Morning, April 5
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
WARNINGS: n/a

The day dawns bright and just a little cool, soft mist rolling over the distant mountains as the forest stretches and yawns in the breeze. It's another beautiful morning in this new-old village, just waiting for its inhabitants to begin filling it with the work of the day.

But this day, there is a surprise. A gift, if you will, not unfamiliar to the old timers, although they know too that sometimes these gifts come with strings.

On the lawn in front of the 6I inn, all of the tables, chairs and even the bar has been moved out into the breaking sunshine. A breakfast feast has been arranged, tables piled high with every imaginable delicacy and comfort food of a certain era: Muffins, toast, coffee, fruit, pop-overs, crumpets, lamb chops, porridge, hot chocolate, biscuits, and every kind of egg, just to start. Even the bar is stocked for those itching for mimosas, mint juleps or irish coffee.

Of course, anyone who has spent time in the wilderness can tell you: In a place gone wild, it's only a matter of time before the scent of food draws in unwanted visitors. Eat up while you can, villagers; you may be sharing your plate soon.

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She let out a single, ragged cough. Her lungs were perfectly fine. But her sense of humor was feeling pretty fucking rusty right now. "We'll have to take that up with our Overlords," she said. Some other people referred to them as 'Overseers,' but it just didn't feel right to Sam. Not in this clown rodeo.

At least she was starting to feel a little better. She'd hacked up the last of the stupid piece of stupid toast.

But it was a temporary fix.

The hunger would set in soon. She had no real concept of the last time she'd fed, or how much vitae was in her system. She'd stopped keeping track. Closing her eyes, she tried to make an assessment of her own system, but the panic was getting in the way. A panicking Kindred was a recipe for disaster, wasn't it?

"Jude," she said, looking up at him. "I know this is going to sound fucking crazy, but I need you to trust me. I have...to be locked up. And kinda soon." Better safe than sorry. While she didn't think she had any real friends here, there were plenty of people whose faces she didn't want to eat off.

It does sound crazy, especially with his immediate assumptions: things like this happen, but they aren't worth locking people up over. Not unless-- "Is it contagious?" Even as he asks the question, he makes himself leave his hand on her shoulder, makes himself be present. If it is, the damage is likely done, and he'll just have to deal with what follows.

And, gesturing to the puddle: "'Cause I think that cat's out of the bag already." Miserable as she looked, though, he hedged the question. "Look, I'll help you out, I'll do what you think is best, I just want to know why."

It was a perfectly reasonable question. And Sam didn't miss the fact that Jude stayed right where he was. She wasn't sure why, of course. But she was weirdly grateful, all the same.

That helped. Not that what she was about to say would ever, ever be easy.

"No," she said. "Not contagious."

She turned to look up at him. And the Beast came out like it had never gone.

Kindred weren't like the vampires on TV. Her eyes didn't turn back. No veins rose on the surface of her skin. No bumps or lumps or mumps. Sam was exactly the same as before, give or take two pinpricks slipping from beneath her upper lip. But there was a change in her all the same. The air of a predator emerging.

No doubt, she was a monster again.

Well, that backs him up half a step. He goes from a grip to her shoulder to his fingertips resting--but they do rest. The memory is still hit-and-run, choppy and out of context, but the change makes him think of Parker. Parker was always different, Parker was always--a little dangerous.

And there had been no changing it, but he'd done his best to embrace and contain it. Picked Parker up from a field in another county, looked at the thing behind his eyes and waited it out.

He doesn't think Parker ever popped fangs, but. He wouldn't have been wholly surprised if he had. "Alright," he breathes, keeping steady as he can. "Sam: what do you want to do."

On the whole, not the worst reaction she could have expected. And honestly, she wouldn't have blamed him if he'd freaked the fuck out. Good on him. Or something.

But his reaction was probably the least of her worries.

What did she want to do? She didn't have a clear answer. All she knew for sure was what she didn't want to do.

She shook her head a little. "I don't wanna hurt anyone," she said simply. So simple it sounded a little pathetic to her ears. But fine. Whatever. "And I'll only make it a few days before I started to get...hungry."

[MINGLE] Breakfast Feast

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