( if the man is familiar enough with his kind as to be so bold, he will doubtless take that to say something of the immensity of his age. his tone stays placid, even and softly said. )
I will harm none, nor feed from anyone unwilling while I am here and possessed of my own mind. Should such time occur as I am not, I would welcome death rather than bring harm to innocents. I believe you consider that to be your calling, do you not, vampire hunter?
[ If Godric hasn't fed since the last group came in, which is certainly when he must have arrived as Trevor would have noticed him over the course of a month and a half... yes. It says a great deal about his age. Trevor simply breathes and listens, and had Godric not just spoken of his own death perhaps his lips would have quirked at being correctly identified.
But they do not.
Instead his brows knit, because welcoming starvation... well. ]
It is my calling and my purpose, yes. To protect humanity, what good is left in it. What innocence, of which you speak as well. But you must understand my doubts that creature could resist such hunger, with a banquet laid at their feet. Unless you are giving me permission to kill you in such an instance.
There are other, safer options. If you speak truth.
( he will have to make a point with this one. he does not care for his own safety, but vampire hunters are a notoriously hard-headed lot. eric took great pleasure in baiting them out, and killing them without mercy. )
Should it come to that, I would prefer to die. You've my blessing to see to it however you deem fit.
( what does he care for pain? he has endured his share. he will not make the mistake of assuming the value of his life exceeds a human's any more. )
However, we are speaking in extremes. I have had several individuals offer themselves to me, and I do not consider my situation to yet be dire. I require very little blood at my age.
We are speaking in extremes because such extremes may present themselves. I would advise you not let yourself get to the point of such hunger, I would offer my own blood as well, and have a friend who says the medical facilities here stock it and he's able to obtain it for you.
I will not kill any creature who is not doing harm, vampire. But if you do, I have killed my share in my short human lifetime and will not hesitate to add one more to that number.
[ Godric's calm unnerves him more than anything. His certainty, and the fact that Trevor almost believes him. But then again, he's met and fought Dracula. A vampire who should have been able to go a century without lifting a finger against a human easily and yet. In the end it didn't take all that much. A vampire who by his son's account had changed his ways as well. ]
What has caused such a change in ideology in you, might I ask?
The lecture is unneeded and unwarranted both, Mr. Belmont, but I appreciate your thoroughness on the matter.
( he does not deign acknowledge the threats. there is little point to them but posturing, given that he has already given the man permission to kill him should it become necessary. )
Within the last few hundred years of my life, I woke to the fact that humans are not the lessers of vampires but our equals in all but age. I have acted in the past as I imagine you must see all vampires — cruelly and without regard. And I have come to know regret and sorrow for the harm I have caused. Prior to my arriving here, I had decided to give myself to the sun as recompense for those ills, but as you can see.
( he spreads his hands. the gesture looks very human on him, if not for the absence of other movement, blinking or breath that accompany it. )
Whatever divine creature guides our fates was not finished with me.
[ Trevor studies Godric carefully for any sign of a lie in those words, but vampires have few tells to begin with and this one... well, he's exceptionally well controlled. Which could lend credence to his claims or just make them more of a convincing smokescreen. Ultimately uncertain, he breathes out slowly.
It's extremely stressful for Trevor, being so close and not fighting. Godric's unnatural stillness is setting off every alarm he has, his instincts screaming danger at the lack of breathing, the absence of those slight movements other creatures make to show they're alive.
This is an undead thing, borne of chaos and death and evil. No one in all of the Belmont legacy has found one to depart from that nature for long. You cannot trust him.
And he won't.
But he finds he does believe the words, the admission that Godric stepped into the light of day. Not a single tell and yet it rings true. ]
Hmm.
[ That seems to be all he's got for a long moment, as he's already issued a threat and not had it risen to. That's rather infuriating, honestly. ]
Say you're right, and it is not. What do you intend to do with yourself from now on?
[ That's an interesting tidbit of information -- some of this vampire's abilities have been restricted by whatever experimentation has been done on them. But Trevor finds himself lingering on the fact that Godric is currently reminding him of a certain dhampir he knows. One he misses despite himself. Alucard is a cockwart, but he's Trevor's friend regardless of their natures. They've fought together in every way imaginable, and come out of the flames with a stronger bond than Trevor could ever have imagined.
Part of him wonders if Godric could wind up like that, a friend, and he resents it deeply. It screams against his instincts, makes him feel like he's going soft believing any of this. God but he needs a drink. Another one. Several. His scowl deepens, though his words are mild -- it's fairly clear for someone as experienced at reading people as Godric that he's angry with himself as much as anything. The vampire before him. This situation. The absence of his comrades.
Sypha would want him to try and make nice. His dead family would want him to whip out the wooden blade in his pocket. Alucard would mock him for his deliberation and probably insult his attempt at intimidation. Fuck it all. ]
Then we have a similar mission. Do you believe the power granted to you here will help or hinder this intention?
[ A clumsy attempt at digging, but he wants to know. What can you do, Godric? ]
( there is a war beneath this man's skin. he is being civil, despite the fact he has very little reason to be and, it seems, very little desire. but he is making the attempt, and despises doing so.
godric glances across the room, briefly focused on nothing at all before his focus returns to the man before him. )
You may discover it randomly, as I did; I would advise you be on your guard should you begin to glow. It may be something that causes you to hurt another without meaning to. And I do hope you'll be able to keep your word, vampire, for everyone's sake.
[ This is probably his cue to walk off dramatically, but Trevor lingers. Still angry, still conflicted, fighting his own nature even as they speak of Godric changing his. He will not let a vampire be more controlled than him.
And then it occurs to him that there's one way to know for certain if he needs to keep part of his focus trained on Godric. ]
( again the veiled threat. godric says nothing to acknowledge it, merely offers out his hand. he assumes the man wishes to trigger the empathy bond, an endeavor to discern the truth of what he says. he has nothing to hide, and so does not shy away.
nor does he try to temper it. two thousand years of emotion will doubtless be difficult to bear, let the human take what he will of it. in this, they will learn each other's measure.
when trevor takes it, there first comes that sense of age, creeping in like a low fog. yet, it does not come as a blow but as a gentle encompassment. he exists as a place outside the human comprehension of time. peaceable. quiet.
there is serenity in his touch. an absolute stillness. old lakes and ancient standing stone. there is nothing human in him, but there is also very little vampire. he simply is, a force of nature, an eldritch creature who has chosen to tarry here a while, and bow his head to human whims. there is love, and yearning, and regret. the sorrow he spoke of is pervasive and bone deep, entrenched in the marrow of the mind. something wild and fey and utterly without master. there is a loneliness wended through the rest like silver thread stitched into a tapestry of the glittering dawn. there is hunger, too, a pervasive pressure at the edge of awareness. omnipresent, yet ignored. diminished in size and scope for the inattention it has received.
[ Godric is something Trevor hasn't experienced since perhaps early childhood -- peace. The sorrow, the regret, the loneliness and longing is all familiar, but the calm that comes over him is foreign as this city. Is this what it feels like? That gentle serenity has his fingers curling around Godric's hand seeking more of it, to bury himself inside the cocoon of self assuredness. It's terrifying and comforting and absolutely overwhelming, and so for a long moment he holds on.
Unfortunately, where Godric is at the eye of life's storm, tranquil and silent and certain, Trevor is himself the hurricane.
His emotions are tumultuous and powerful, chaotic and confused. A cacophony of fear and misery borne of grief, loneliness, violence, a lifetime spent fighting to survive on his own against what for most would be insurmountable odds. He feels adrift here, is latching on to this vampire as something he knows how to face, to behave around, and is angry at Godric for defying his expectations. There's that urge to set the universe right as he knows it, a deep need to belong and have purpose protecting people because if he's not a protector, he's just the same worthless cynical drunk he was for nearly half his life. He is alone and he's afraid and everything is different from what he knows. All he wants is a friend, some peace and guidance. All he wants is to be sure of who he is again. There is goodness there, so pure it would be as blinding like the midday sun if it weren't covered by the dark clouds of everything else.
He does not hate Godric. He hates the evil he knows, that he's seen and fought and been scarred by. The vampires of his world thrive on chaos and pain, but Trevor knows that's not all they are. Someone proved that to him, not too long ago. There's fondness there and in it hope for these two, if only he'd let there be. But his need for something he understands is more consuming.
Also he's drunk, which surely the vampire could smell and see in the flush on his skin, but somehow not dulled by it.
Then it's over, Trevor yanking his hand back as if he's been burned, expression unreadable. There are tears shining in the corners of his eyes, but they don't fall. He blinks them away and stares at Godric as if trying to make sense of a puzzle he's only first laid eyes on. ]
You're hungry even now, Godric.
[ There's no accusation in his voice, though. Maybe a hint of concern. ]
( the man is a maelstrom, but it washes over and past him. he is as a mountain, untroubled by the howling gale. human emotion is complex and frenetic and as grasping as a drowning man clinging to what he can claim in the kingdom of his watery grave.
and then the man pulls back, and godric settles into his cross-legged repose, hands folded, spine straight. )
[ Trevor is quiet for a long moment, considering. He just felt for himself that Godric can handle it -- and God help him, he's thinking of the vampire by his name already. He sighs, then says what he does next with sincerity. ]
( doubtless, the turnaround in this conversation has felt like nothing else so much as whiplash to this young man. he was so ready to stand stalwart against something he perceives as an enemy of humanity, and godric feels poorly at having left him bereft of purpose. that desire, that need to be useful is the same as ephemera. it is a sign of how poorly used they've been by the world.
he could say no. he has no especial need, presently, to feed, though he will by needs require it sooner or later. but there is a cost to the offer, and he means it sincerely. let the man have his use. )
[ Trevor debates it, but the thought of being bitten... it wouldn't be the first time, but there's a vulnerability in it. A loss of control he is not willing to submit. ]
[ That's even less disconcerting, and he nods once and turns away without preamble to fetch the necessary items from the Safehouse kitchen. Two steps away, and he hesitates -- maybe he should just bleed himself in there, so no one in the bunk room questions what the hell is happening. He glances back over his shoulder to ask, ]
How much? I've only ever seen vampires drain humans dry.
( he has done his share of that. but he considers it now to be uncouth. )
Three ounces would sustain me for a approximately a week, providing I do nothing strenuously vampiric in that time. ( his tone's dry, faintly ironic in a self-directed way. ) I require more than I am accustomed to in my own world.
[ Something eases in Trevor's shoulders, and the surprise is visible in his expression. ]
Is that all? Alright, I'll return shortly.
[ With that he vanishes off to the kitchens, moving with determination because if he doesn't the doubts will rise up into his throat and choke him. What on earth is he doing? Keeping everyone here safe, he tells himself. Because it isn't even a matter of whether he believes the vampire -- he could feel for himself that it was the truth. And doesn't that just throw everything he knows into question? It's easier to tell himself that their natures can vary across worlds than to question the universality of vampires as evil in his own. Yes. He'll go with that for now, as he draws a glass down from the cupboard and a knife from the block.
The cut doesn't hurt at all, and Trevor is unbothered about one more wound, one more scar. It'll be small and clean, on his forearm... a shallow cut that he lets bleed into the glass until it begins to seal and would require worrying. He considers the amount, shrugs, and pulls out a kitchen towel to tear and wrap around his arm so he doesn't stain his clothing. It'll heal up quickly, he expects, and he's bled nearly double what Godric said he needed. Not even enough to be lightheaded, though he gets himself a snack from the cupboard as well.
His blood is strong in more ways than one... he's basically poured Godric a cocktail and isn't thinking of that at all, as he returns to the bunk room with a disconcertingly warm glass in his hand and an uncertain fluttering in his gut.
It's fine, he tells himself. He felt that it's fine. You do it anyway, he reminds himself, you protect. ]
( he can hear the sounds of the man rummaging in the kitchen. the knife being drawn from the block. when he makes the cut, he can smell it, blood and liquor. the man is significantly more intoxicated than he'd let on, which speaks to something of his tolerance.
it's been a while since he's had alcohol. it will not be enough to affect him overmuch, but it is difficult to gauge how he might react when in all other ways he feels like a newborn vampire.
when he returns with the glass, godric inclines his head as he takes it. )
Thank you, Mr. Belmont. Will it trouble you if I drink it in your presence?
[ Difficult as it might be to watch, Trevor feels a strange sort of obligation to be certain that this creature has fed. He'll try not to think about the fact that technically Godric is feeding on him. ]
( well, he supposes he can't argue with a lifetime's paranoia against vampires, if they are all as he says they are. he is taking this remarkably well, all things considered.
obediently, godric lifts the glass in a little gesture of cheers, and then methodically drinks it down. he would just as soon savor it, but he's sensing that perhaps the man might lose his nerve if he tried. it's enough pleasant, b negative, just the right temperature although it cools faster with the liquor, which tastes like whiskey.
once he's finished, he daubs at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. blood congeals and stains quickly. )
Are you satisfied I am now satiated enough to avoid slaughtering the innocent here like lambs?
( there is perhaps a very mild sort of wryness to be had in his tone. )
[ Trevor is taking it about as well as he can... he may be a stubborn grump but he isn't one to deny things that have been proven to him, or that are necessary. He manages not to grimace as Godric drinks, grateful for the speed and lack of enthusiasm with which his blood is consumed at once. Maybe in time, and some familiarity and trust, and he wouldn't be so averse to it -- he managed to adapt to Alucard's fangs specifically after all. To calm the rush of violence that rose in him every time he saw them after a few days together. Trevor has had to be adaptable to survive. To succeed.
He should stop thinking about his friends, because even that brief moment of remembrance has him wondering what the others would say about this. How they'd taunt him. Something aches in his chest and he's also grateful for Godric's voice snapping him out of it. He tilts his chin up and his own lips quirk at the comment... it sounds like a very dry joke, but. Uh. ]
That sounded in jest, but there are plenty of vampires who do seek to farm us like livestock. Exterminate enough to become the dominant species, then just raise us as food.
( he sets the glass aside on the small desk beside his bed, and then folds his hands in his lap. )
It was considered among my kind. I believe humans would be too clever for it to be a sustainable model.
( he and eric lived in a vampire commune in the seventeenth century. humans kept, yes, as cattle. it was a workable situation until one human escaped, and staked two vampires in his escape. he was killed, of course, but godric had admired his spirit. it was one of the precipitating events that lead to his change of heart on humanity. )
But I was speaking in jest, yes. I apologize if it offered offense.
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( if the man is familiar enough with his kind as to be so bold, he will doubtless take that to say something of the immensity of his age. his tone stays placid, even and softly said. )
I will harm none, nor feed from anyone unwilling while I am here and possessed of my own mind. Should such time occur as I am not, I would welcome death rather than bring harm to innocents. I believe you consider that to be your calling, do you not, vampire hunter?
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But they do not.
Instead his brows knit, because welcoming starvation... well. ]
It is my calling and my purpose, yes. To protect humanity, what good is left in it. What innocence, of which you speak as well. But you must understand my doubts that creature could resist such hunger, with a banquet laid at their feet. Unless you are giving me permission to kill you in such an instance.
There are other, safer options. If you speak truth.
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Should it come to that, I would prefer to die. You've my blessing to see to it however you deem fit.
( what does he care for pain? he has endured his share. he will not make the mistake of assuming the value of his life exceeds a human's any more. )
However, we are speaking in extremes. I have had several individuals offer themselves to me, and I do not consider my situation to yet be dire. I require very little blood at my age.
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I will not kill any creature who is not doing harm, vampire. But if you do, I have killed my share in my short human lifetime and will not hesitate to add one more to that number.
[ Godric's calm unnerves him more than anything. His certainty, and the fact that Trevor almost believes him. But then again, he's met and fought Dracula. A vampire who should have been able to go a century without lifting a finger against a human easily and yet. In the end it didn't take all that much. A vampire who by his son's account had changed his ways as well. ]
What has caused such a change in ideology in you, might I ask?
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( he does not deign acknowledge the threats. there is little point to them but posturing, given that he has already given the man permission to kill him should it become necessary. )
Within the last few hundred years of my life, I woke to the fact that humans are not the lessers of vampires but our equals in all but age. I have acted in the past as I imagine you must see all vampires — cruelly and without regard. And I have come to know regret and sorrow for the harm I have caused. Prior to my arriving here, I had decided to give myself to the sun as recompense for those ills, but as you can see.
( he spreads his hands. the gesture looks very human on him, if not for the absence of other movement, blinking or breath that accompany it. )
Whatever divine creature guides our fates was not finished with me.
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It's extremely stressful for Trevor, being so close and not fighting. Godric's unnatural stillness is setting off every alarm he has, his instincts screaming danger at the lack of breathing, the absence of those slight movements other creatures make to show they're alive.
This is an undead thing, borne of chaos and death and evil. No one in all of the Belmont legacy has found one to depart from that nature for long. You cannot trust him.
And he won't.
But he finds he does believe the words, the admission that Godric stepped into the light of day. Not a single tell and yet it rings true. ]
Hmm.
[ That seems to be all he's got for a long moment, as he's already issued a threat and not had it risen to. That's rather infuriating, honestly. ]
Say you're right, and it is not. What do you intend to do with yourself from now on?
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I intend to assist our fellow displaced as much as I am able. Even lacking the strength to which I am accustomed, I am a formidable protector.
( he cannot be everywhere at once. but a single life saved is worth all efforts, to him. )
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Part of him wonders if Godric could wind up like that, a friend, and he resents it deeply. It screams against his instincts, makes him feel like he's going soft believing any of this. God but he needs a drink. Another one. Several. His scowl deepens, though his words are mild -- it's fairly clear for someone as experienced at reading people as Godric that he's angry with himself as much as anything. The vampire before him. This situation. The absence of his comrades.
Sypha would want him to try and make nice. His dead family would want him to whip out the wooden blade in his pocket. Alucard would mock him for his deliberation and probably insult his attempt at intimidation. Fuck it all. ]
Then we have a similar mission. Do you believe the power granted to you here will help or hinder this intention?
[ A clumsy attempt at digging, but he wants to know. What can you do, Godric? ]
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godric glances across the room, briefly focused on nothing at all before his focus returns to the man before him. )
I have not yet discovered what it may be.
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[ This is probably his cue to walk off dramatically, but Trevor lingers. Still angry, still conflicted, fighting his own nature even as they speak of Godric changing his. He will not let a vampire be more controlled than him.
And then it occurs to him that there's one way to know for certain if he needs to keep part of his focus trained on Godric. ]
Give me your hand.
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nor does he try to temper it. two thousand years of emotion will doubtless be difficult to bear, let the human take what he will of it. in this, they will learn each other's measure.
when trevor takes it, there first comes that sense of age, creeping in like a low fog. yet, it does not come as a blow but as a gentle encompassment. he exists as a place outside the human comprehension of time. peaceable. quiet.
there is serenity in his touch. an absolute stillness. old lakes and ancient standing stone. there is nothing human in him, but there is also very little vampire. he simply is, a force of nature, an eldritch creature who has chosen to tarry here a while, and bow his head to human whims. there is love, and yearning, and regret. the sorrow he spoke of is pervasive and bone deep, entrenched in the marrow of the mind. something wild and fey and utterly without master. there is a loneliness wended through the rest like silver thread stitched into a tapestry of the glittering dawn. there is hunger, too, a pervasive pressure at the edge of awareness. omnipresent, yet ignored. diminished in size and scope for the inattention it has received.
but of rage, but of savagery, all is quiescent. )
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Unfortunately, where Godric is at the eye of life's storm, tranquil and silent and certain, Trevor is himself the hurricane.
His emotions are tumultuous and powerful, chaotic and confused. A cacophony of fear and misery borne of grief, loneliness, violence, a lifetime spent fighting to survive on his own against what for most would be insurmountable odds. He feels adrift here, is latching on to this vampire as something he knows how to face, to behave around, and is angry at Godric for defying his expectations. There's that urge to set the universe right as he knows it, a deep need to belong and have purpose protecting people because if he's not a protector, he's just the same worthless cynical drunk he was for nearly half his life. He is alone and he's afraid and everything is different from what he knows. All he wants is a friend, some peace and guidance. All he wants is to be sure of who he is again. There is goodness there, so pure it would be as blinding like the midday sun if it weren't covered by the dark clouds of everything else.
He does not hate Godric. He hates the evil he knows, that he's seen and fought and been scarred by. The vampires of his world thrive on chaos and pain, but Trevor knows that's not all they are. Someone proved that to him, not too long ago. There's fondness there and in it hope for these two, if only he'd let there be. But his need for something he understands is more consuming.
Also he's drunk, which surely the vampire could smell and see in the flush on his skin, but somehow not dulled by it.
Then it's over, Trevor yanking his hand back as if he's been burned, expression unreadable. There are tears shining in the corners of his eyes, but they don't fall. He blinks them away and stares at Godric as if trying to make sense of a puzzle he's only first laid eyes on. ]
You're hungry even now, Godric.
[ There's no accusation in his voice, though. Maybe a hint of concern. ]
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and then the man pulls back, and godric settles into his cross-legged repose, hands folded, spine straight. )
Yes. It is insatiable. But one adapts.
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I will feed you. If you need it.
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he could say no. he has no especial need, presently, to feed, though he will by needs require it sooner or later. but there is a cost to the offer, and he means it sincerely. let the man have his use. )
Very well. How would you prefer to go about it?
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Would a cut do?
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( feeding is a matter of utility. function over form. he has had his fun with it, and now it is nothing to him but obligation. )
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How much? I've only ever seen vampires drain humans dry.
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Three ounces would sustain me for a approximately a week, providing I do nothing strenuously vampiric in that time. ( his tone's dry, faintly ironic in a self-directed way. ) I require more than I am accustomed to in my own world.
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Is that all? Alright, I'll return shortly.
[ With that he vanishes off to the kitchens, moving with determination because if he doesn't the doubts will rise up into his throat and choke him. What on earth is he doing? Keeping everyone here safe, he tells himself. Because it isn't even a matter of whether he believes the vampire -- he could feel for himself that it was the truth. And doesn't that just throw everything he knows into question? It's easier to tell himself that their natures can vary across worlds than to question the universality of vampires as evil in his own. Yes. He'll go with that for now, as he draws a glass down from the cupboard and a knife from the block.
The cut doesn't hurt at all, and Trevor is unbothered about one more wound, one more scar. It'll be small and clean, on his forearm... a shallow cut that he lets bleed into the glass until it begins to seal and would require worrying. He considers the amount, shrugs, and pulls out a kitchen towel to tear and wrap around his arm so he doesn't stain his clothing. It'll heal up quickly, he expects, and he's bled nearly double what Godric said he needed. Not even enough to be lightheaded, though he gets himself a snack from the cupboard as well.
His blood is strong in more ways than one... he's basically poured Godric a cocktail and isn't thinking of that at all, as he returns to the bunk room with a disconcertingly warm glass in his hand and an uncertain fluttering in his gut.
It's fine, he tells himself. He felt that it's fine. You do it anyway, he reminds himself, you protect. ]
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it's been a while since he's had alcohol. it will not be enough to affect him overmuch, but it is difficult to gauge how he might react when in all other ways he feels like a newborn vampire.
when he returns with the glass, godric inclines his head as he takes it. )
Thank you, Mr. Belmont. Will it trouble you if I drink it in your presence?
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[ Difficult as it might be to watch, Trevor feels a strange sort of obligation to be certain that this creature has fed. He'll try not to think about the fact that technically Godric is feeding on him. ]
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obediently, godric lifts the glass in a little gesture of cheers, and then methodically drinks it down. he would just as soon savor it, but he's sensing that perhaps the man might lose his nerve if he tried. it's enough pleasant, b negative, just the right temperature although it cools faster with the liquor, which tastes like whiskey.
once he's finished, he daubs at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. blood congeals and stains quickly. )
Are you satisfied I am now satiated enough to avoid slaughtering the innocent here like lambs?
( there is perhaps a very mild sort of wryness to be had in his tone. )
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He should stop thinking about his friends, because even that brief moment of remembrance has him wondering what the others would say about this. How they'd taunt him. Something aches in his chest and he's also grateful for Godric's voice snapping him out of it. He tilts his chin up and his own lips quirk at the comment... it sounds like a very dry joke, but. Uh. ]
That sounded in jest, but there are plenty of vampires who do seek to farm us like livestock. Exterminate enough to become the dominant species, then just raise us as food.
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It was considered among my kind. I believe humans would be too clever for it to be a sustainable model.
( he and eric lived in a vampire commune in the seventeenth century. humans kept, yes, as cattle. it was a workable situation until one human escaped, and staked two vampires in his escape. he was killed, of course, but godric had admired his spirit. it was one of the precipitating events that lead to his change of heart on humanity. )
But I was speaking in jest, yes. I apologize if it offered offense.
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