John enters cautiously, looking around with increasing admiration. There's
something about the aesthetic that appeals to him on an instinctual level;
something of the cloister library, perhaps. When he sees Dracula, his
expression sobers, and he makes his way across the room with his hands in
his cardigan pockets.
"Looking quite sober, hmm?" he says as he stands up and offers a quick dip of his head in greeting. Before anything else, though, he will gesture to a nearby chair and ask-
"I'd let myself get hungry," he admits. "And so when I was in the chapel and Gray hurt himself, I ... I lost control. Attacked him, fed from him—I knew it was wrong—I didn't even want to do it—but it was like I was along for the ride in my own body. And then when I was—when I was sated, I panicked. Thought I'd try to save his life by turning him but—but of course, that wasn't necessary. And ... well, you saw what happened next. Everyone saw."
He sighs heavily and sinks forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his folded hands.
"An entirely avoidable series of events. And now everyone knows ... I mean, it was probably not great for me to want to keep it all private in the first place, was it? And this definitely was not the way I would have wanted it to come out."
Dracula listens and he's not still as he does; he's spent so much time around humans of late that he makes a point to lightly sway, dip his head, let the other man know he's active and aware and listening. And when Pruitt finishes, he nods.
"First thing I heard when I woke up was about the decompression. Greenhouse
exploding and all that," he says. "And I thought maybe there might be more
shortages ahead, so I'd better be careful with my, um, supply. And yes,
that was absolutely the wrong conclusion, I know now."
"It seems you've learned a lot from this mistake," he says mildly, and the nice thing is that there isn't even any slowly simmering rage beneath it. He's just trying to get a feel for the man's understanding of himself, his hungers, what he is now. He hasn't made a vampire in...
Many many many years.
"Have you often left yourself... vulnerable to temptation?"
John nods. Scrubs his hands over his face, clasps them together tightly.
"When I was ... after I was changed," he says. "I was ... I was terribly
hungry. And I feared it, and I tried to resist—I even tried to drink my own
blood, and you can imagine that did nothing. And then a man came to visit
me, to talk—Joe Collie was his name. The town drunk. He'd accidentally shot
the mayor's daughter, years ago, paralyzed her from the waist down. But he
was ... he was trying to get his life back together, finally. Finally had
found the motivation. And he came to talk to me and I could see the pulse
in his throat, smell the blood..."
He has to stop for a moment.
"I didn't mean ... I mean, I don't know what ... I could feel my control
slipping. And I think he sensed it too—he tried to run, but he fell and hit
his head on the table, fractured his skull, and there was blood ..."
He closes his eyes, remembering. On his hands and knees licking the blood
from the floor, then taking Joe's poor broken head in his hands. What he
did next, and after that, and then Bev and Sturge and the mayor. Covering
for him. Just like they always had.
"Do you think he would have died either way? Had you drank from him or had you called for medical attention?"
He isn't asking as an accusation. He's just coaxing him along to see what comes out. He gets the feeling that there's a lot in there that he's been just... covering up.
He holds the Church at least partially responsible for this.
"Maybe he'd have made it. I don't know. But even if he was as good as dead,
I—the fact that I acted the way I did, frightened him, that puts it on me."
I don’t know. Something came over me, and really, I don’t even…
Because something moved through you.
The memory of Bev Keane's words comes back to him then. Something moved
through him—the hand of God calling Joe Collie to account for his crimes.
How could he have forgotten? Where was the Lord's hand in his attack on
Dorian?
He'll have to think about that. But there's probably something to it.
Still, some intuition suggests that it won't do to delve into this subject
aloud at this moment, or to let his remorse—his appearance of remorse—slip.
And so none of these thoughts betray themselves outwardly, apart from a
brief moment of dissociation, which could have any number of simpler
explanations under the circumstances anyway.
"Did it frighten you, I wonder?" he asks with a curious tilt of his head. There's a lot of questions he wants to ask John, depths he can hear the echoes of but can't quite catch a glimpse of properly. It's something about his angle, he can tell, but he doesn't know what to do about it. So, like the predator he is, he will circle.
"Yes. Yes, of course it did." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "The ...
the instinct—I'd never felt anything like it before. And the knowledge
that I was ... dangerous. Terrified me."
And the angel said, "Fear not, fear not, be not afraid!"
"First," he points out, "it has to be your choice. You must have the control to be able to decide when and if you will feed. Once you're there, then you can start offering options."
"No. No, I certainly do not," John says. "I was ... before I changed, I was
... it was a sort of living death, to be honest. Dementia. Terrifying. The
return to clarity alone was a shock, much less my—my youth. And I guess
if—if I let hunger rule me, that'd be another kind of living death.
Wouldn't it."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 05/01/2022 04:56 (UTC)John enters cautiously, looking around with increasing admiration. There's something about the aesthetic that appeals to him on an instinctual level; something of the cloister library, perhaps. When he sees Dracula, his expression sobers, and he makes his way across the room with his hands in his cardigan pockets.
no subject
Date: 06/01/2022 04:58 (UTC)"How are you?"
no subject
Date: 06/01/2022 05:22 (UTC)John nods in thanks and flops his lanky body down into the chair, looking exhausted.
"I feel very stupid," he says.
no subject
Date: 06/01/2022 05:30 (UTC)"Tell me what happened?"
no subject
Date: 06/01/2022 15:40 (UTC)"I'd let myself get hungry," he admits. "And so when I was in the chapel and Gray hurt himself, I ... I lost control. Attacked him, fed from him—I knew it was wrong—I didn't even want to do it—but it was like I was along for the ride in my own body. And then when I was—when I was sated, I panicked. Thought I'd try to save his life by turning him but—but of course, that wasn't necessary. And ... well, you saw what happened next. Everyone saw."
He sighs heavily and sinks forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his folded hands.
"An entirely avoidable series of events. And now everyone knows ... I mean, it was probably not great for me to want to keep it all private in the first place, was it? And this definitely was not the way I would have wanted it to come out."
no subject
Date: 06/01/2022 20:13 (UTC)He only has one question, after all.
"Why did you let yourself get hungry?"
no subject
Date: 06/01/2022 20:20 (UTC)"First thing I heard when I woke up was about the decompression. Greenhouse exploding and all that," he says. "And I thought maybe there might be more shortages ahead, so I'd better be careful with my, um, supply. And yes, that was absolutely the wrong conclusion, I know now."
no subject
Date: 07/01/2022 01:00 (UTC)Many many many years.
"Have you often left yourself... vulnerable to temptation?"
no subject
Date: 07/01/2022 02:21 (UTC)John nods. Scrubs his hands over his face, clasps them together tightly.
"When I was ... after I was changed," he says. "I was ... I was terribly hungry. And I feared it, and I tried to resist—I even tried to drink my own blood, and you can imagine that did nothing. And then a man came to visit me, to talk—Joe Collie was his name. The town drunk. He'd accidentally shot the mayor's daughter, years ago, paralyzed her from the waist down. But he was ... he was trying to get his life back together, finally. Finally had found the motivation. And he came to talk to me and I could see the pulse in his throat, smell the blood..."
He has to stop for a moment.
"I didn't mean ... I mean, I don't know what ... I could feel my control slipping. And I think he sensed it too—he tried to run, but he fell and hit his head on the table, fractured his skull, and there was blood ..."
He closes his eyes, remembering. On his hands and knees licking the blood from the floor, then taking Joe's poor broken head in his hands. What he did next, and after that, and then Bev and Sturge and the mayor. Covering for him. Just like they always had.
no subject
Date: 07/01/2022 02:42 (UTC)He isn't asking as an accusation. He's just coaxing him along to see what comes out. He gets the feeling that there's a lot in there that he's been just... covering up.
He holds the Church at least partially responsible for this.
no subject
Date: 07/01/2022 06:54 (UTC)"Maybe he'd have made it. I don't know. But even if he was as good as dead, I—the fact that I acted the way I did, frightened him, that puts it on me."
I don’t know. Something came over me, and really, I don’t even…
Because something moved through you.
The memory of Bev Keane's words comes back to him then. Something moved through him—the hand of God calling Joe Collie to account for his crimes. How could he have forgotten? Where was the Lord's hand in his attack on Dorian?
He'll have to think about that. But there's probably something to it.
Still, some intuition suggests that it won't do to delve into this subject aloud at this moment, or to let his remorse—his appearance of remorse—slip. And so none of these thoughts betray themselves outwardly, apart from a brief moment of dissociation, which could have any number of simpler explanations under the circumstances anyway.
no subject
Date: 08/01/2022 00:40 (UTC)no subject
Date: 08/01/2022 04:16 (UTC)"Yes. Yes, of course it did." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "The ... the instinct—I'd never felt anything like it before. And the knowledge that I was ... dangerous. Terrified me."
And the angel said, "Fear not, fear not, be not afraid!"
no subject
Date: 12/01/2022 05:14 (UTC)A pause.
"But you have to make sure you make it possible for that to be a choice."
no subject
Date: 15/01/2022 15:36 (UTC)"A choice." He blinks. "Their choice, you mean?"
no subject
Date: 15/01/2022 16:27 (UTC)no subject
Date: 18/01/2022 18:40 (UTC)John nods. "I—I think I see. Yes. We—one doesn't have to be defined by the hunger alone, right?"
no subject
Date: 04/02/2022 04:26 (UTC)He pauses and looks to John.
"You don't wish to die. Not that way."
no subject
Date: 05/02/2022 16:10 (UTC)"No. No, I certainly do not," John says. "I was ... before I changed, I was ... it was a sort of living death, to be honest. Dementia. Terrifying. The return to clarity alone was a shock, much less my—my youth. And I guess if—if I let hunger rule me, that'd be another kind of living death. Wouldn't it."
no subject
Date: 05/02/2022 16:11 (UTC)"One very hard to pull out of. What you lose is far more than you can ever regain."
no subject
Date: 11/02/2022 20:56 (UTC)John exhales slowly.
"Yes. Yes, I can see that. I'll ... I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."