Nothing like dying cold and alone... [Haemish]

[nora]

(Yeah, so here I go...)

Trevor sucked in a painful breath. His lungs were on fire, yet the rest of his body was stiff and numb with the cold of early winter. He was surrounded by his own blood, which he’d been coughing up for the last few hours. As time rolled by, he knew he was going to die soon. He had the Spanish Flu, and nothing was going to stop it from devouring him.

But wait, where was his sister? She’d gone out yesterday evening to find them someplace warmer to stay. The streets of England were no place to stay during the winter. But, not long after her departure, Trevor had started to feel ill and his breaths became raspy. He prayed for her return before his death. All he needed was to thank her for being there for him all this time.

Trevor coughed again, the last of his energy draining along with it. He collapsed onto the ground; the dirt combining with the blood smeared across his face. Black spots started to fill his vision. It wouldn’t be much longer now…

[* Annie - L]

Haemish kicked a rock to watch it skitter across the empty street. Sighing, he pulled his bomber jacket tighter over his narrow shoulder, and andjusted his grey fuzzy toque atop his head before beginning to walk again. The truth was, Haemish was bored. He was in his mid second century, and hadn't really been with anyone for company in a very long time. He was just lying to himself saying it was better that way. Every single day of his boring life was alone; boring; and the same. Always wrapping up with a walk some place or another.

Hearing a sound, Haemish slid up next to a building wall along the sidewalk. He wasn't in the mood to get caught up in one of London's gangs. But the noise sounded solitary. He made his way cautiously along the dimly lit street. His feet could not be heard on the damp cobblestone, yet he was worried about just that. Reaching the alley where he'd heard a cough, he peeked his head around the corner. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the narrow alley until he saw a collapsed figure on the ground. He saw no one else around, and was relieved he could go help the boy.

Reaching the crumpled up figure, he bent over, the scent of blood was strong in his nose. Human blood. Kneeling down next to the boy, he slid a hand under the stranger;s cheek to look at his face, all covered in blood and dirt. This was not a good place for someone to be. He wasn't sure what the boy had, what disease or illness, but it wasn;t pretty at all. He wondered if the boy could talk. He wasn't sure what to say though. "Can you hear me?"[/i] he asked. what a stupid question, he though afterwards, shaking his head a bit. He frowned in worry, creasing his forhead which was hidden under a good layer of hair.

If he couldn't speak, or if he was in fact dying and not just going through drug withdrawl or something, Haemish knew what had to be done, and dreaded it.

[nora]

“Can you hear me?”
The voice seemed to come from miles away. It echoed in his head, creating a headache that was very near unbearable. Was it his sister? He blinked a few times, trying to make the black spots disappear. Trevor licked his dry lips and tried to force words from his mouth. “Yes.” His voice sounded rough and weak and very soft. He hoped whoever it was standing before him had heard.
After blinking a few more times, his vision returned. He could make out a blurred version of a man, maybe around 20 years old. The man looked worried. For his sake or the fact that he was standing over a highly contagious body, Trevor was not sure. Another cough raked his body and blood oozed from the corners of his mouth. He turned over and spit it on the ground. No way was he going to drown in his own blood.
Trevor knew he was a dead man; he’d come to accept this, but he had to last until his sister came back for him.
“Help me.” He whispered.

[* Annie - L]

"Help Me" said the boy, softly, and weakly.

Haemish obliged in the only way he knew. It would be the first - and last - human blood he'd drink. Although, he didn't totally hate himself, he was saving someone, not killing them. He wasn't ending the life of another person in the least, he was granting the human immortality, which was step in the right direction from his current state. "Are you sure you want my help? I only have one solution..."[/i] he whispered quickly. He wanted to get a direct answer, not wanting to turn someone who didn't want it. His voice was soft and soothing, yet hurried. This man's time was running out, and if he didn't answer soon he wasn't going to get a say in the matter. Haemish wasn't about to let the fact that the man could hardly speak, and when he did it was raspy, forced, and painful make his decision.

Slowly, he lowered his mouth to the boy's warm neck. He actually decided not to make the boy talk again, since it clearly caused him pain. He bit his lip before he placed it gently onto the surface of human flesh. The boy only had so long before he would be burning with another painful sensation. But this painful sensation would not cause death. I a manner of speaking it would, but it would be living death.

Haemish took a deep breath and sunk his teeth into the bare skin of the human's neck. Warm blood filled his mouth, quenching his thirst. It was so much better than the deer's blood he was used to. Haemish felt like he'd just injected some drug into his system, getting high from the scent, and taste of real blood. Pure. Beautiful. He slid his arm around the boy's shoulder to embrace him, continueing to drink the godly liquid that was flowing steadily into his mouth.

Fuuck. he thought, yanking himself from the boy. He pulled his hands away, staring in horror at him blood covered arm. No! NO NO NO! This isn't right! Human blood isn't right. he thought forcefully, glaring at his murky reflection in the puddle he was kneeling it. He reached into his pocket, hunting for something sharp. Finding a safety pin, he thrust it hard into his wrist, cutting deep enough to draw blood. He shoved his wrist to the human's mouth. "Drink."[/i] he ordered, breathless.

He was mortified by his own actions. He'd nearly drank the boy dry. An innocent human could have died at his mouth. He couldn't bear to look at any part of himself, including the arm that was outsretched to the boy. He looked up to the cloudy sky, cursing it with a glare.

[nora]

The boy thrust his bleeding arm in Trevor’s face. His brain was moving at a sluggish pace, so it took him a few seconds to comprehend what was going on here. This boy is a vampire! But what was he doing trying to give me his blood? Trevor frowned, thinking back to those myths and legends that turned out to be so very real. It would seem he was trying to change Trevor into a vampire himself. But why? Trevor glanced into the boys’ eyes. They were clouded over and he looked horrified at what he’d done. It would seem he’d done this to Trevor against his own will. He deduced that this boy must be a good vampire. Was there such thing? He had no idea.

Trevor’s neck tingled. He put a finger to it. Blood trickled down his finger. Right. He looked at the bleeding arm in front of him. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to die from loss of blood. Without giving it another thought, he put his lips to the boys’ arm, drinking greedily. But this was wrong. He was human, right? He couldn’t be transformed this quickly. But the blood tasted so good, so he continued to drink.

After he felt satisfied, he sat back and gave the boy a good look-over. He was wearing a bomber jacket and a fuzzy, grey toque. His hair was shaggy and brown, grown out long and possibly in need of a haircut and his lips were tinted red with blood. Trevor was just about to ask his name when a sharp pain that started in his neck exploded across his entire body. What was going on?

[* Annie - L]

Haemish saw the look in the boy's eyes as the pain surged to him. He remembered the feeling and coultn'd suppress a cold shiver at the momory. "It will end. It will, I promise. I'm so sorry."[/i] He apologized, promising the pain would be over though. He knew it seemed like it wouldn't, but it would. He leaned back, looking at the boy once more time before he looked around to find something to clean off his face. It made him sick to think of the pain the man must be feeling. Being turned was nasty business.

Unable to find anything, he knew he needed to get the boy off of the streets. Only one place he knew to take him, and that was back to his house. He wasn't sure if the boy had anyone with him, but figured that could bes settled later and he had to get the boy away from the city before anyone saw or heard him. He scooped him up into his arms, hoping he wouldnt flail in pain and make this difficult for Haemish as he took off out of the alley as fast as his long legs could carry him.