Finders Keepers

[all_too_familiar]

Sometimes witches have powers before they turn. But this is rare, uncommon.

More often, a potential witch displays almost nothing out of the ordinary at all. Just, say, a little more skill with people, a little more natural charisma. An extra dose of something that could almost be called luck, if one were paying attention and on the lookout for witches.

There is one such maybe-potential, right over there. He's not from around here, but he is fluent in Italian and French and German and he professes that English is his first language and laughs when people call him a liar because of his perfect accent. He might not be the most powerful, but a polyglot witch could be useful for something. And who knows, maybe there's more to it.

Maybe someone would care to find out.

Comments

[all_too_familiar]

He does not get tired of screaming, in the meantime.

But he doesn't quite give in to mindless agony. He notices the pain slowly shrinking away from his limbs and the fire collecting in his heart. He notices the way his body's changed and his mind has expanded. He notices his ears gaining sensitivity. A thousand little changes to go along with the burning agony.

He's long figured out that he's being turned into something. Whatever it is, he doesn't know.

It's not like he can stop it, either.

His heart speeds up, and he finds that he suddenly has tired of screaming, and can only manage a low whimpery keening sound to replace it. Let it end soon -

[alicornucopia]

The couple is paying attention to him again at this point.

[all_too_familiar]

Good for them.

They get to be present when his heart stops.

But the pain in his throat hasn't gone away and he can smell potential relief -

The purpose of the other people becomes apparent to him when he is biting into one of their necks and drinking the delicious wonderful amazing perfectly soothing blood from their veins...

And then the person is drained dry, a lifeless corpse.

More, this is not enough, the pain in his throat isn't gone, it should be gone, the pain's gone everywhere else, even his heart. He doesn't have the presence of mind to stop himself from drinking the second.

Halfway through the third he feels - something. Niggling, in the back of his mind. It belongs to the person he's drinking. He is a person, it pronounces. And it feels like he's a good father and kind of a coward and well meaning despite this and caring and -

He flings the person away from him, too quickly. The good father was probably already doomed from the blood loss anyway, but the crack his body makes when he hits the wall says he's a goner for sure.

The potential witch stares, shivering.

And then can't manage to stop himself from finishing off the good father's blood.

[alicornucopia]

They brought him five.

[all_too_familiar]

That one's got an artistic side to her, and she likes being outdoors and is tired and overworked and despite this terribly bored and -

The other one smells of desperation, of need, of being quietly resigned to too-long hours and an underfed family and -

And they smell so good, so good, he hasn't had enough, there's still room in him, maybe he can make the burning stop, maybe just one more and -

And it's too late, his teeth are already buried in her jugular. Stop stop stop stop, something in him screams, but he can't, he can't, and it's much too late anyway, isn't it, she's already dead, let's not waste the blood, it's good and warm and fresh.

By some miracle he stops himself from the last. Some mix of being nearly-full and the thing in his head informing him that the final survivor of his thirsty rampage likes cooking and hates walking in the rain and -

He remains in the corner, coiled to spring and paying attention only to thing in his head and how utterly delicious the remaining victim looks, but no no no don't think about the taste don't think about the taste he still has a bit of it in his mouth it's so good don't think about the taste don't kill this person don't do it don't do it. They're probably screwed anyway, they were taken here, probably screwed, there's nothing he can do, no no no no he can do something, he doesn't, they're a person they're a person they're a person -

He lets out a little whimper, but can't manage to sob.

[alicornucopia]

"Not thirsty anymore?" comments Biter.

"I had six when I was new," remarks Biter's Special Friend.

[all_too_familiar]

He can't manage words. Only a faint whimper. Person person person person -

[alicornucopia]

"If you're not going to eat her I can," Biter says.

[all_too_familiar]

He snarls. His food, his blood, his -

Person person person don't eat her don't eat her don't eat her you don't need it you don't need it look at the thing, look at the thing, the thing keeps you from eating her by telling you about -

It's run out of information.

...

And suddenly someone has run out of life.

Fuck.

[alicornucopia]

"Figured that'd do it," chuckles Biter. Her voice is light, musical; she smells nice; she loves-loves-loves her Special Friend more than anything; she likes frescoes and harpsichords and thunderstorms... "I'm Danuta and this is my mate Gavriel. What's your name?"

[all_too_familiar]

"I," he begins, and he notices the extra to his voice that makes it clearer and musical and perfect, "Blair. You. You wanted me to-?"

And then he is no longer talking because he has realized the implications of this she caused it she caused it, and is launching himself at Danuta.

[alicornucopia]

Gavriel deflects him, snarling. He loveslovesloves Danuta more than anything.

[all_too_familiar]

Two against one, he's new and inexperienced and they're together and likely to kill him if he acts out like an idiot and fuck they love each other -

He is deflected and stays deflected and instead buries his face in his hands and the thing in his head won't shut up it keeps telling him about them he doesn't want to know they're monsters they're monsters -

But so is he.

Whimper.

[alicornucopia]

"It's okay," soothes Danuta, "you're bound to be a little feral for a while. Happens to everyone. So are you a witch?"

[all_too_familiar]

"What's a witch?" he croaks.

[alicornucopia]

"Somebody with a little extra something. A power," says Danuta.

[all_too_familiar]

"I have, I have a lot, of powers now," he says, a hint of dry. "Going to have to narrow it down."

[alicornucopia]

"Something besides the physical perfection," Danuta clarifies dryly.

[all_too_familiar]

Oh you mean like the uncontrollable urge to murder people? he doesn't say.

Right. Okay. So they seem to be of the opinion that they're his friends, but he shouldn't correct them of this fact at the moment. He needs to understand what's going on. Calm. Think about the future. Yes, good, he can almost handle this brain if he keeps paying attention to the thing in his head that keeps giving him information...

"I, I think so. You like thunderstorms and frescoes and - and - there's, they were people, she," he points, "liked the outdoors. He," he points again, "was a good father."

Is that a hint of a sob? That was a hint of a sob. Also a hint of bitter.

[alicornucopia]

"Oh, that's going to give you an eating disorder if you keep aiming it at the food, dear," says Danuta. "That's interesting, though!"

[all_too_familiar]

He growls a little, but keeps himself from leaping because they think he is their friend, he needs them, he is suddenly alone with himself and this is a terrifying prospect what even is he?

"What am I?" he whispers.

[alicornucopia]

"We're vampires," says Danuta.

[all_too_familiar]

"Vampires," he repeats. He was never one for folklore, but he's suddenly become much more of a believer. "Okay. What does this involve besides, besides the. The eating people thing. And the perfect body. And the magic powers. Do I catch fire in sunlight? Sleep in a coffin on dirt from my home? Do I need to be invited inside?"

[alicornucopia]

"No and no and no," laughs Danuta. "Do avoid the sun, though, you'll look all shiny and conspicuous, the Volturi don't like it."

[all_too_familiar]

"And who are they?" And why should I care?