..and baby, I'm the walking dead!

[Clairice-Sarah]

She shouldn't have said anything. Blood wasn't like wheat and stuff, right? If Zelia was able to consume hers, so could he, right? Even though, really, they weren't that similar at all.

"Pre-med huh? First year B.F.A...once I'm done that, I want to go to a bigger art school." Outside the convenience store Angel sat down on the curb. "I'm fine...I'll sleep it off later." Truthfully, she didn't have much of an appetite. She looked up as he mentioned her artwork, and, catching his smile, tried to hide her own by turning her eyes to the ground.

"Ah, thanks...yeah, I do. Sometimes they let me put them on display at the college, if they're not too bad. I use ink and paint more than charcoal now, though." She smiled a little. "Didn't know anyone looked at my stuff back then. Most people think it's pretty messed up."

Corpses and creatures of the night weren't exactly the best way to win popularity points in a small town. Of course, creating them and letting them run free in a small town probably wouldn't do that for her either.

[scribblerrigby]

“Well, you need the juice at the very least – it’ll help you get your blood back faster.”

He would've ran in and grabbed some himself, but it seemed a little overbearing; besides, she had already sat down. He'd grab some later if she was still loopy. He sat next to her as she modestly explained about her artwork.

“Aw, you kidding? People liked it. I LOVE anything monstery like that. Lovecraft’s stuff was my favorite, back in the day! Creeped the hell out of me! Though,” he added, more restrained, “becoming a monster yourself kinda’ kills the feeling a little bit. So, yeah. I don't know anything about art, but I think your stuff's pretty cool. I’ll keep an eye out for them around school!

“But speaking of monsters…who’s your friend? What’s your story? I mean, you seemed pretty cool about being face-to-face with a hungry vampire back in the alley...”

And why would he get sick? Was he feeling a little nauseous? Nah. Paranoia. But still – something was definitely up. Welcome to Bridgeport...

[Clairice-Sarah]

"...maybe later." Bleh. She didn't want any.

"Your class must have been different from mine, then," she mentioned vaguely. "Lovecraft is probably my favourite, still. That's pretty much classic." Angel nodded as he mentioned becoming one. "Yeah...it's a little scarier." She looked down at her hands.

"My friend? Um...maybe I'll introduce you sometime." There was no way to properly explain anything about Zelia without breaking any of her trust. "Me? I...well..." It would be rude not to say but she didn't want to talk about it either. She held up her right hand, and pulled back her hoodie sleeve. There were notably less cuts and only a couple bandaids on that hand.

"I was cursed last spring, by...a demon, I think. Maybe." She swallowed thickly and stopped for few minutes, before finishing her explanation. And then decided not to. He didn't need to know about the rest, right?

Angel put on a barely-there smile to change the subject. "Man my parents were mad when I got this done." She pointed to her labret stud. "I thought my mom was going to kick me out for sure when she saw I had a tattoo before I was eighteen."

[scribblerrigby]

“Oh, GOD, I’ve been there. My mom would’ve KILLED me if I tried anything when I still lived there. Literally, killed. I was gonna get a tattoo right here – “ he rolled up his sleeve “ – a few years ago, but mom found out, and I honestly thought I was gonna die, I’d never seen her so angry. I just ended up buying Halo and a couple DVDs with that money, instead…” he shrugged. Then smiled. “Personally, I like the piercing!”

Through all of this, his eyes had remained on right arm, curiously studying the tattoo visible through some of the bandages. He took a deep breath, almost certain that this tattoo somehow had something to do with the curse.

“So…” he said, looking around, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “About that curse…” After all, she’d brought it up and then dragged it away right as it had gotten interesting. He couldn’t stand that! “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it?”

[Clairice-Sarah]

She smiled, happy he didn't just assume a labret stud made her just another emo. "Thanks. Me too." Well of course YOU do, she thought to herself, duh.

"Yeah...I woke up with this after I was cursed," she said, catching his stare. "I convinced my mom that I got it the last time I left town." She avoided describing it - or at least, she intended to, when he asked her specifically about it. Angel bit her lip once more and pulled her sleeve back down over it.

"Uh, well..." She closed her eyes and that made her feel all the more nauseous, so she sat straight and fixed her gaze on the ground instead. "I...can bring paintings to life. Only mine though." Or at least, as far as she was aware. "I mean--not that I want to!"

Angel rushed to make that point clear. "I just can't always control my hands...so um..." She felt her cheeks burn, this was as if admitting to murder though yet no one had been killed because of her monsters.

Her voice shook. "S-so yeah. That's...that's why I'm all cut up."

[scribblerrigby]

He nodded slowly, contemplating. “Ohh. Right. So…you paint things, and then you cut. And the…blood gets on it and that’s the part that brings it to life?”

He had to admit that that actually sounded pretty cool, except for the part when the squishy cephalopod monsters run around and destroy everything. But, on the other hand – Angeline was noticeably anemic, and if these creatures demanded that much blood… An idea was forming in his head; he let it stew for a while, instead opting for a small shrug and what he’d hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I suppose in a way you could take that as a compliment. I mean, none of us are good enough at art to get cursed with something like that. If that happened to me, it’d be pretty embarrassing…” We’d be up to our ears in badly drawn stick figures, and cats and monsters and…stuff. Not a good thing.

He shifted in his seat. “Heh. I suppose we both have these weird, creepy sort of…afflictions to deal with. 'Welcome to Bridgeport,’ my roommate says…But how often does this happen – you drawing these things? Are they dangerous?”

He remembered her fresh blood from earlier. “Oh, god. Did you just make one tonight? Is it still around?”

[Clairice-Sarah]

"Something like that." She shrugged as he said it was a compliment. She certainly didn't feel that way. Angel ignored him in favour of staring at the cement.

"I don't know. Once every few weeks. Sometimes longer." Depended on if Zelia called her for help or not. She gave a tired yawn and then another shrug. "Yeah, they're dangerous. They suck blood out of living things so they don't dry out. I've never had one attack a person, though. Or my cats, thank god."

She flinched, scratching her fingernails against her knees.

"Yeah, I did, but I killed it. They're not very strong, usually I can splatter them with my truck or find a way to hose them down. The more diluted the blood and medium gets, the weaker they are." She didn't know how or when she figured that out...Angel thought back, maybe she just always knew.

She shook her head, didn't matter, it worked, right?

"Don't worry about it." The phrase slipped out of her mouth before she really thought it through. Yes,bloodthirsty hell demons from my bedroom wander around town. Don't worry about it.

[scribblerrigby]

He listened intently, nodding. “Makes sense. That’s gotta’ be hard when you’ve used oils and stuff, though.” Then he laughed, not unkindly, and shrugged. “I don’t think I’m the one that would be worrying, anyway…I seriously hope your monsters don’t go for secondhand blood. Pretty sure that’s what I have…” he added. “You know, I probably have to look into that sometime. Somehow. It’d be cool to figure out how vampires worked."

The lights flickered out behind them; the shop had closed minutes ago and the pair of attendants was locking up. One turned to the two on the sidewalk and raised an eyebrow. Fin smiled and gave a small, cheekily apologetic wave in reply. The oldest of the pair – a jaded, middle-aged man - rolled his eyes and muttered something to the first attendant about how they needed to bust these smartass kids for loitering one of these days and how he really should call the police because it was probably past their curfew, anyway. The younger one nodded while the older one curtly addressed the pair on the curb: "Hey, isn't there someplace you're supposed to be right now?"

Fin leaped to his feet and offered a hand for Angel. “Yeah…we should probably move. Did you drive out here? I can help you get wherever you need to be now…car’s around here somewhere. Nobody should be out walking alone now. It’s late. And…dark.” He felt a little lame saying it. Yeah, you’re damn right it’s dangerous out here. Not like she already hasn’t faced one of her monsters and a vampire already. Danger? No sh*t!

“You probably do need to rest after losing all the…you know….”

[Clairice-Sarah]

"I don't know," she admitted. "I try really hard not to let them go far. Maybe they'll leave you alone if one comes around sometime soon. They mostly just ignore me." She smiled as he mentioned looking into it. "Yeah, definitely count me in. I'd like to know too." Angeline jumped when the lights flickered and grabbed onto Malcolm's arm.

Her smile quickly changed back into a blank expression as the old man came outside. She took Malcolm's hand and rose to her feet, head spinning again.

"Sorry sir, I just have uh...anemia, and I felt a little sick."

She didn't recognize either so that seemed a good sign. "No my truck is at home, it's not far." She nodded down the street and pulled him in that direction, before someone did call the police and she had to explain to her parents what she was doing, all loopy downtown.

The old man gave them both a glare and she flinched. "Yeah let's go. Now." They could talk more about that...somewhere else. She didn't want to stumble home quite yet.

[scribblerrigby]

He didn’t mind the arm grab at all.

Though it did bring his attention back to her arms, and he couldn’t help but briefly focus on the scars again, feeling a twinge of hunger. He groaned and tried to shake it off, slightly nauseated. Angeline’s blood had tided him over until the next evening, but he knew he'd have a tough time around the scars.

UGGG, NO. GOD. No freaking way – not after that. Nice guys don’t eat the girls they’re helping.

And he was doing his best to be a “nice guy.” Though it had been a while.

“No my truck is at home, it’s not far. Yeah let’s go. Now.”

Her voice snapped him back to the present, and the obnoxiously judgmental eyes of the older attendant. He glared back. “Yeah. We were just about to leave, anyway. ” Then, to Angeline: “We’re really going to walk that far? My car is …I…okay…” And he let her drag him along while he held on, his other arm ready to made sure she didn’t arbitrarily topple over or pass out.

Jesus, what if she passed out? How big had her ink monster from earlier that evening been? Holy hell.

Once they were out of sight of the attendants – who watched them with a silent and uncomfortable single-mindedness until they left – Fin slowed down. “Wow. They really have nothing better to do in there this late, do they…” he noted, wonderingly.

It was a slightly strange situation; a couple of teenagers, one obviously impaired and the other not much better off, running around ‘downtown’ Bridgeport late at night. He knew his way around the city, having grown up there, but he couldn’t be too sure these days that something wasn’t lurking around here, waiting to rip their heads off if given the opportunity.

Well, I could scare most things off if something does happen. Unless it’s a G-damn dragon or mythological hell-thing again. Or something out of her drawings.

Another thought occurred to him, but he passed over it quickly. Another thing nice guys generally didn’t do: try to bring home random, impaired near-strangers in the middle of the night. There was something kind of weird about that. Right?

Right.

“Hey, um…where are we going? How far away are you, exactly? “

[Clairice-Sarah]

"It always seems like most of the old people around here are like that." Maybe she couldn't blame them. Trouble and drinking amounted to the only two past times everyone did.

Angel stopped walking as he slowed his pace and she dropped his arm, crossing hers and leaning against the wall. "I'm not in any rush. I just figured we should walk somewhere else." She shrugged. "Some of my friends are always in trouble and a couple times my parents got calls so I didn't want to do that again." She chewed on her lip and looked up to the sky, overcast, and a small wry smirk worked its way to her face. She felt the same way, a little cloudy, thoughts a little murky.

"You don't have to stay around if you don't want to." She knew she wasn't much good company at the best of times, let alone right now. "I don't live close, anyway. It took me a little over half an hour to get here on foot. We're way out by Big Springs."

She pulled out her cell phone to check the time. "I guess I'll have to go back eventually, but..." With a sigh and a laugh she put it back in her pocket. "Not right now. I'm unemployed so I don't really need to be in bed anytime soon."

Thinking back, that sounded childish. Stop talking, Angeline, she told herself. You're not you right now. She ignored the thought anyway. He seemed nice.

"Oh, you mentioned a roommate? Was it hard to find a decent place in Bridgeport?" As much as she didn't like home, it always seemed preferable to paying constant damage fees because of stains. "That must make living with this easier to keep from your family."

[scribblerrigby]

He smiled wryly “Well, y’know…I’m unemployed, and I don’t need to be in bed until the sun’s up. So I’ll be staying. Besides, with tonight’s luck, a dragon or something would probably jump out from behind that car the second I leave.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his attention briefly stolen by a smaller rat or mouse trying to creep inconspicuously alongside the edge of their building. “And before you ask, yes - the sun coming up will kill me. Screw whatever you’ve heard about vampires and that Twilight crap. There’s a lot of ashes and a lot of pain and it’s not something I’d want to go through again.”

He looked up again, laughing a little when she mentioned the roommate. “Dying to get out of your folks’ place, huh?” He shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Buuuuuuut it depends on what you mean by ‘decent.’ There are some over by the college, but it’s a really shazty part of town, and Jeff and I couldn’t even pay for that, so we live in one over the Laundromat. Makes cleaning the clothes after stuff like this –“ he held up his messy sleeve and grinned. “- easier to deal with. Though I’ve started running out of explanations for all of it, ‘cos they’ve been getting pretty stupid.”

He turned to lean on his side, facing her. “Yeah. My mom doesn’t know. Thank god. But my sister does. It’s definitely easier to do my thing at a place of my own. Will you be getting a place? I can’t imagine coming up with an easy explanation for paint monsters…”

[Clairice-Sarah]

"Twilight? That's, I mean, Twilight? ...wait, wait, dragon? You've seen a dragon in Bridgeport?" More excited than scared, Angeline wanted a photo! "Really?" The sudden excitement was accompanied by a wave of nausea and she took a deep breath to settle herself. She still had probably a day or so of rest before she was back to normal.

He mentioned excuses and she gave an uncomfortable laugh. "I'm waiting for someone to finally notice how deep the gashes are...blaming my kitten's been working so far but if anyone actually looked at them, I'd be in the hospital pretty quick." She nodded to his dirty sleeve. "My parents are used to me painting gore and messy scenes so making it look like art supplies isn't hard. But I do most of my own laundry now, my mom's a photographer sooooo...she knows a thing or two about art."

Angel shifted her weight to her other foot, and drew back her right sleeve to stare at the tattoo, which hadn't stopped aching. "I want to move out, but my parents are really old fashioned...they don't think I should be leaving unless it's for school or marriage. I don't know...I guess as long as I stop what I make from eating anything like people or pets, then I guess home isn't a big deal."

She rubbed the mark though she knew it made no difference. "Do you ever wonder if this kind of thing can be reversed?" The the moment, the ending the pain meant more than the moral tug of war.

[scribblerrigby]

He laughed. “Yeah, Twilight! You’d be surprised how many people I’ve spilled THAT secret to whose first questions are about sparkling in the sun, or if I know the Cullens or…you know. Crap like that!! I’m just thinking - dammit, I can drain your blood and suck out your brains through your ears on a bad day and you’re only thinking of tossing me into the sun to get your jollies! THAT‘s some sick stuff!!”

He caught himself. “Not that I go around draining peoples’ blood and sucking out their brains. Much. But yeah -dragon!” He grinned and leaned in excitedly, eager to share the story, energized by her sudden burst of excitement.

“It was around here, not too long ago. There was a bar fight up at the Hook and I was getting out of there before shaz hit the fan. I made it about as far as the street when these thugs came running out of the bar. And crap just happened so fast, but before I knew it, there was a GORGON taking out one of them, and a DRAGON beating the crap out of the rest of the people that had gathered around. The dragon was HUGE. Seven feet tall, giant tail, bright orange, and wings that went on forever. And it was PISSED. There was kind of a showdown, but then things just sort of resolved themselves after that.” he said, glossing over the part where he was almost dragon chow, and the only reason the dragon even relented was because it recognized Malcolm, who was at that point humiliatingly close to wetting himself in utter terror. “You can ask our geology professor more about the dragon if you have him this semester. Though one dude did die...the gorgon lady froze one of the people and we were stuck with this statue guy in the middle of the Hook’s alley.

"And if you don’t believe me,” he added mischievously, “You can go down to the lighthouse. The gorgon woman and I drove the statue and set it up as an ornament down by the beach path. Pure Michaelangelo’ed thug. Kids put funny hats on him and write all over him sometimes. I think there are angry eyebrows and a curly mustache on him right now...”

She seemed excited by the story - he felt pretty accomplished, but the mood quickly became more morose when she swung the conversation back around to excuses. He heard her, and felt for her - she’s still stuck with her parents after a bitch of a curse like that? That sucks! But then Angeline rolled her sleeve up, revealing more cuts, scars, and that mysterious tattoo and his attention was largely diverted. She rubbed her hand nervously, reopening some of the slices and driving his senses up the wall.

Ohhh, fuuuuu…I wish she wouldn’t do that… He was torn between asking her to roll her sleeves back down and helping himself to a tiny bit more when she said something that rattled him:

"Do you ever wonder if this kind of thing can be reversed?"

He froze - already halfway reaching out towards her arm- and pulled back. “Wow.” He took a deep breath, more of habit than necessity, and slowly began.

“See, I think that depends. Like with me…I died. I remember it. I’m a completely different…thing from what I was before, and honestly…I’m scared about what that means for the future and stuff. I don’t know how…reversible death is, either. Now…you were cursed. And I don’t know who did it or how permanent it is or anything, or if it’s able to be broken like they can be in the movies. Now, this will sound like some sort of eighties fantasy movie quest-thing, but stick with me: I told you about the dragon and stuff; I’ve met a few more, um, freakily afflicted people since then. So, I think that because all of this stuff exists out there, I can’t shoot down any sort of possibility that some sort of demon or voodoo-magic person could come along with the power to change any of our situations without looking like a complete ass. All we have to do is find that person. Or thing.

“I guess until then, though…we’re going to have to come up with better excuses…and try not to take out the whole town in the process!” He tried to smile reassuringly, but this time, it was much more of an effort.

[Clairice-Sarah]

Geology prof? He knew about the dragon? But how did she go about asking that? She tucked that away in the 'important things' corner of her mind. "You're...serious?" They petrified him? She questioned how Malcolm told this so easily, did he really deserve being turned to stone? With that uneasiness came relief.

She wasn't the worst, or the only. Angel looked up at the story's end and pulled her sleeves down once more. She regretted her question as soon as he began his answer.

Told you to shut up.

"I've met...a few too." Zelia, not that different from him. Telfer and his...she shook her head at the memory. That ranked as the scariest encounter to date.

She then laughed a little. "It's too bad I can't paint anything useful. But I guess I don't really make living things, either." Angel, a constant liar herself, caught the strain in her new friend's smile. Either in courtesy, or in mutual understanding (she didn't know which) she looked away.

"Well if you ever need an alibi, I'll stick up for you."


((ooc: finished? Sorry it's so short!))