Vampires! Everyone loves vampires!

[samuraiprosecutor]

Please help me fulfill my love of gratuitous vampire plot. No logic necessary here. One character is a newly-turned vampire, the other is the first human (or other food source) to come across them. Is the vampire valiantly resisting the primal urge to feed or thanking their lucky stars that lunch has arrived?

Setup can be as detailed or vague as you want. Please note in the subject line or tag whether your character is a vampire or vampire chow and any squicks you'd rather avoid. It's safe to assume that violence, non-con, or bloodplay might crop up since, you know...vampires.

Have fun~

Comments

[Vampire][Closed to Phoenix]

[samuraiprosecutor]

The attack happened suddenly, almost too suddenly to hurt. The pain didn’t fully set in until after, when the bite and the blood began to do its true job. It coursed through him like fire for what felt like an eternity then left him hollow and hungry.

He stumbled out into the night to wander the streets like someone lost in his own home. The city lights blinded him, the noise overwhelmed him. Eventually he was forced to flee to a darker, quieter residential area nearby. From there his feet knew the way, even if his brain didn’t know where they intended to lead him.

He was not at all surprised by their final destination. Feeling disoriented and sick, Edgeworth reached up to knock softly on Wright’s door.

[attorneyatlol]

It was late, but Phoenix wasn't asleep. Though his mind and body begged for it, the stress-fueled insomnia of the past few days persisted, ensuring that what little sleep he did manage was fitful, at best, and not the least bit helpful. It was easier, he'd decided, just to stay awake.

He was poring over news sites, despite his conscience's best efforts to remind him that he'd spent very little time preparing for his client's trial in the morning. Edgeworth had been missing for days, however; it was difficult, especially late at night, when Phoenix's sleep-deprived thoughts were left to their own devices, to focus on anything but his friend's whearabouts. Although a small, angry part of him suspected that the prosecutor had run away again, the lack of warning--no note, not a single clue--had him worried that it was something more.

It wasn't like Edgeworth to leave a case hanging. Friends and family, sure, but his work? It didn't sit well with Phoenix, and the more he thought about it the more he hoped it was another case of emotional cowardice.

A noise jarred him out of his thoughts. Dragging his attention away from the laptop, he stared at the door for a moment before his sluggish mind informed him that it was, in fact, a knock. Weird, he thought. Who the heck would be coming to his apartment after midnight?

There was a brief, panicked moment where he imagined Detective Gumshoe coming to inform him of some awful news, but that was ridiculous. He was pretty sure Gumshoe didn't even know where he lived, and if he did, surely the knock would have been more urgent, right? Right. Of course...

With that in mind, he stood from the couch with a stretch and rubbed his burning eyes as he made his way to the door. Quietly, so that he wouldn't have to answer the door if he didn't want to, he peered through the peephole--and then froze.

That gray hair. The flash of pale skin. That magenta.

With a rush of adrenaline, he quickly undid the chain and deadbolt and threw the door open--"Edgeworth!"--and then, as he took in the state of the man's too pale skin, his disheveled appearance, and the fact that he was definitely not unscathed, all but lept forward to steady his friend by the shoulders. "Edgeworth! Jesus, what happened? Are you all right?"

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth flinched from the contact. Not that that was anything new—physical displays often made him uncomfortable—but in this case the discomfort appeared to be bordering on pain. He swayed as he extricated himself from Wright’s grip, narrowed unusually pale grey eyes at him like someone nursing a hangover.

“Do I look like I’m all right? ...For that matter, do you expect that kind of treatment to make me feel better?” For a moment, he moved as if he was going to stalk past Wright into the apartment. He hesitated at the doorjamb, an odd, uncertain look crossing his face, then stared expectantly at his companion.

[attorneyatlol]

The response didn't come as a complete surprise, though it wasn't exactly expected, either. More concerned with his friend's health than his attitude, Phoenix brushed it aside and reluctantly let go, his hands remaining poised as he watched Edgeworth sway.

"Sorry, it's just... I mean, you've been gone for four days, and I..." With a shake of his head, he cut himself off and then stepped aside, intent on letting the man in. He tried to survey the damage, but all he could really see in the minimal light was that Edgeworth looked a mess. "Do you need me to call the hospital, or...?"

[samuraiprosecutor]

Edgeworth didn't hear the last words. His mind froze completely at 'four days,' leaving him staring into the lighted apartment with horror.

"Four days?!" It was nearly a shout, far too loud for that time of night. Belatedly, he lowered his voice, a struggle when every nerve in him wanted to shout. "No... No, that's impossible. It couldn't have been more than twenty four hours."

He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head. Wright's announcement should have made him feel faint; the fact that it didn't was somehow worse. If his face could have paled any further, it undoubtedly would have.

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix frowned at that. Calling the paramedics sounded like the right idea. The police would be second on his list.

Reigning in his own emotions, he tried to be reassuring, but the way his words tumbled out belied his concern. "Hey, it's okay, just... Just don't think about it, all right? You're here now." Gently, he took the man by the arm and tried to urge him inside. "Come on. I'm gonna get somebody over here. Just... come in and tell me what happened, okay?"

[samuraiprosecutor]

At first, he balked at his companion's directions, some unknown aversion bubbling up inside him again as he was moved toward the door. It fell away without warning when he wrenched himself free of Wright's grip, so he warily chalked it up to irritation over the man's condescending touch, rather than the way his own relief happened to coincide perfectly with Wright's explicit invitation.

Bristling, Edgeworth barreled into the apartment and came up against a wall of scents that nearly forced him back. The place reeked of Wright in a way he had never noticed before. His sweet, musky smell permeated everything, and for a moment Edgeworth felt like he was drowning in it.

Once the initial shock was over, he managed to sit at the kitchen table with considerably less gusto than when he entered the apartment. He frowned at the table's dull surface while seemingly disparate facts rolled through his mind in worrying directions.

[attorneyatlol]

Surprised, Phoenix held back and watched Edgeworth stalk into the apartment, brow furrowed deeply. The man's behavior was perplexing, but more than that, it was worrying.

"Edgeworth...?" What the hell happened?

He closed the door and fished out his cell phone, his eyes never leaving his friend.

[samuraiprosecutor]

He looked up slowly at the sound of his own name. Here in the light his paleness was even more pronounced.

"I'm sorry. I just..." His gaze drifted to the cell phone, and a wariness flickered in his eyes. "Don't call anyone yet, please. I need some time to..."

To what? Figure out what in God's name was wrong with him?

"...to collect myself."

[attorneyatlol]

He'd already pressed 9, his finger hovering over the 1, when Edgeworth spoke. Against his better judgment, Phoenix paused and regarded him, troubled by his sickly complexion and the odd... something in his eyes. If Phoenix didn't know any better, he'd think the man was drugged.

Was he possibly drugged...?

Keeping his phone at the ready, he made his way to the kitchen table and slowly sat down, frowning.

"What happened, Edgeworth?"

[samuraiprosecutor]

Wright's easy capitulation was an unexpected relief. Edgeworth slumped back into the chair, too exhausted (and disturbed, and hungry, and...) to give a thought to his perfect posture.

He shot his companion an odd, guilty look.

"I'm...not entirely sure. Someone attacked me on my way home. Naturally I thought at first that it was a mugging, but...it wasn't." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table, and stared at his clasped hands. There was something haunted in that look.

"I was left alive but unconscious. When I came to, I was...extremely disoriented. It's miraculous that I even found my way here."

[attorneyatlol]

Phoenix listened with growing concern and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was obvious there had been some sort of attack, but hearing Edgeworth say it, seeing the way it had shaken the man--it was something else entirely. His stomach then sank as it dawned on him that, if Edgeworth thought it'd been just twenty-four hours since all of this happened, it could have meant he'd been left unconscious for up to three days. Three days.

"Geez," he breathed. Leaning back in his seat, he ran a hand through his hair as questions of who and what and why ran through his mind, but all he could do was shake his head. His gaze fell to the table, dumbfounded and horrified. "I don't know what to say, I just... God, Edgeworth..."

[Vamp or vamp chow][OTA]

[samuraiprosecutor]