Logs:A Dangerous Visit
A Dangerous Visit
|Summary:||Michelle is looking for some 'new content' for her photography in an abandoned building, where a vampire currently lurks.|
|Disclaimers:||Some blood, Language.|
It's dusk, sun's almost set, the sky a beautiful shade of navy blue to indicate today's transition to night-time, and damn if it ain't a beautiful sight! Waves of dim orange glow decorate the sky that, unfortunately for people low on the ground, can only be perfectly seen when from the right angle and at the right elevation. That abandoned building over in the outskirts of town looks like a great place to take the picture, though. Better do it soon before the night is fully here, right? It's a six-floored building, quite massive in size, sitting at an empty patch of land with a great overview of its surroundings. It's empty, quiet, and to be frank, kind of peaceful. Rows of graffiti dot the concrete walls and pillars however, broken bottle pieces and used condoms that might indicate the fact that this is a nightly haunt of some locals. Either squatters, or just your typical bunch of stupid teenagers looking for a thrill.
It's too much of a temptation not to go out and explore on an evening like this one. The hotel room of hers is beginning to become mundane and Michelle can only stare at that terrible motel-art on the walls for so long. Besides, it's probably cool enough outside by now that it wouldn't be too much of an issue. With her impending work schedule coming up she knows that she might not have as much free time in the future. So... Problem solved. The rainbow girl grabs her camera bag and shuffles off. It took a bit of driving, following that pretty sunset off in the distance, for her to wind up out on the outskirts of town. The worn down exterior of this particular area doesn't seem enough to deter her, though, and with her car parked a few blocks away - she braves the streets casually. Off the bat Michelle doesn't seem too intimidated, like at some point, somewhere, this kind of atmosphere is familiar to her. Those dark eyes wander around slowly as they take everything in, though a particular building up ahead seems to catch her interest. Looks like some sort of abandoned apartment complex; probably worth checking out. With a small camera bag slung over her shoulder and phone tucked into the back pocket of her jeans, she carefully climbs through a spot in the broken down fencing and wanders for the doorway. It's pretty much what she expected as far as the interior goes, and as her gaze sweeps over the broken pieces of glass, nails, and well... condoms on the floor, she's grateful she wore jeans instead of shorts. And sturdy shoes. It's a slow exploration of the first floor and Michelle can't help but linger. Her camera isn't out yet but she's trailing her fingers against walls of graffiti and peering around corners as if looking for something in particular, though what exactly, Michelle isn't quite sure of yet.
What fencing that's evident around the building is mostly broken down, yes, and she would've had a much bigger trouble had they not been busted down with the barbed wires there at the top of them. Busting into the doorway, an old wooden door, needs a little bit of strength at first, but enough budging will cause it to fly inwards and yield a lot of noise in the process. She's immediately greeted by a concrete stairway that leads to the second floor as soon as she opens the door, though there are other rooms on the first floor that she can do some exploring on at first. Not much here besides said used condoms, sharp bottle pieces, and a lot of dirt. Once she tries to ascend the stairs, however, she'll be able to make out a shifting silhouette that appears to be drifting away from her direction, though that could just be her mind doing tricks on her. But the silhouette looked very humanoid, though! Is there someone else in here but herself?
The first floor proves pretty standard even after exploring for a bit. Besides, it's not really the trash she's interested in photographing, anyways, so with a quiet shuffling of footsteps Michelle starts to make her way back towards the staircase back near the entrance. A quick glance to the door in a self-reassurance that it's still an open exit before she continues upwards, though finds herself quickly pausing at that brief flash of movement from above. She's just a few steps up the staircase and takes the next couple in a slow hesitance, hoping that, at the very least, it's not someone who will respond violently to her presence. A squint of her eyes as she walks up the rest of the way, head turning to look as she enters the second story. It's cliche to yell out hello, isn't it? So she doesn't.
The second floor is where things start to get a bit more interesting. Some of the outer walls are busted open, which gives her some spots and angles at overviewing the rest of the area around her, though she'll have to ascend further the upper floors if she -really- wants a clear view of the setting sun. Lots of graffiti on the walls, signed with people's names, vulgar words, something that's similar to 'FUCK YOU JESSICA' and an 'I FXCKED YOUR MUM' somewhere in the chaos of the tags, though if she cares to explore the rest of the floor there -is- a random sign of the pentagram in the corner of a room. And if she looks even closer, she'll be able to make out that it wasn't painted with a spray can. It's dried blood.
There's no more signs of the silhouette. It's like the entire building has gone silent, barely any voice, and an eerie feeling begins to overwhelm her. Was it a bad idea to come here in the first place?
Michelle waits a beat. Or two. Or three, hesitating at the top of that staircase until she's certain she's the only on the immediate area, at least as far as she can see. A small breath is let out as she finally ascends that last step, giving herself a moment to just look around. The top level is much busier - not what she expected, and she trails quietly along the walls as she looks over the vulgar paint jobs left on it. Part of her is disappointed. At least, back in LA, graffiti was more or less an artform. There would always be the 'fuck you jessicas', but come on. It was always better than this stuff. A nose scrunch is followed by an absent neck rub as that weird sort of eerie feeling comes over her - and Michelle spares a glance behind her, just for good measure. It's a slow process as she pulls the camera bag forward, unzipping it as she keeps it close. Distracted, now, as she continues to wander but very promptly pauses at that pentagram on the floor. She doesn't have to be close enough to be thoroughly weirded out for a second. "Oh fuck." Mumbled under her breath as she stares. "You've got to be kidding me."
Looking out from the room and outside, through one of the busted up concrete walls, she will notice that the sun is setting. Fast. The dark and gloomy sky is turning bleak and dark, what's left of the sun's warmth drowning into blackness. A noise then, and when she looks, a black cat can be seen lurking along the edge of the building before it disappears, leaping down onto the first floor. But if she decides to look back at the pentagram? The sign is suddenly leaking, like fresh blood, slowly seeping away from the concrete and spreading. That's when she'll hear the door downstairs slamming shut, and then a sharp locking sound. CLICK.
If she goes outside the room and tries to flee downstairs, there will be a man waiting at the mouth of the stairway on the second floor, blocking her path. He's dressed in a grey sweatshirt, black cargo pants, and a pair of steel toed combat boots. It's Damian, crouched down, and seemingly picking up what looks to be a sizable piece of broken glass. He's facing down at it, not sparing her his glance yet.
It's a good thing she didn't necessarily come for sunset pictures, but this? This shit is weird. The rainbow human continues to stare at the pentagram off in the corner though seems too frozen to go any closer. She's debating, really, how much further she wants to go or if this type of thing is at all in her wheel-house. She could probably get some creepy photos... but, she doesn't really want to. That was never really her... thing. Torn between new content and calling it quits, Michelle hears that noise and looks quickly without hesitation. The black cat definitely makes her jump just a smidgen. But in the end, if a cat is the worst of her problems then -.... A breath is let out, a shake of her head as she spares another debating glances towards the pentagram. A mistake. It's leaking red and Michelle, in all honesty, doesn't seem to be able to comprehend what she's looking at it. "What the..." A few quick steps back. But the door? The door is what gets her. Panic floods through her and her blood runs cold, a quick turn on a heel as she stuffs the camera back in the bag with a zip. Nope. Nope nope nope - the fancy footwork down the stairs doesn't do her any good. Something is blocking her way and it spooks her so badly that she slips down the last set, falling onto her butt. There's a sharp pain in her back from the impact but it's nothing to compared to the fear she feels when she stares - wide eyed - at that crouching figure in front of her.
Damian doesn't seem to bother looking at her, even when she stumbles down /hard/ on the floor just from the sudden sight of him. He appears to be... highly interested at the piece of broken glass that he's picking up? From bleeding pentagrams, to her being locked in this place with somebody else, is there anything else that can spook her? That's when his chin lifts up, his facial features coming to view, and those striking blue eyes are boring deep into hers. His stare is extremely intense, as if he's only seconds away from pouncing at her and jamming that sharp piece of glass into her body. But then he tosses the glass aside, dusting his hands as he slowly rises up, and just... stretches? Whatever it is he's trying to do, he doesn't seem to have any hostile intentions towards her -yet-, but he's still blocking her path downstairs eitherway. He straightens his figure up after, sparing her his intense gaze once more while she's laying down there on the ground.
"You lost or something?" He says, his voice somewhat condescending and youthful. He looks like in his early twenties, younger than she is, and if it wasn't for all the creepy things that's been happening, then she could've possibly mistaken him for one of the teenager culprits that's been littering the place.
Michelle isn't sure what's about to happen but she knows she's fucked up in a big way when she lands on her back. It's not where she wants to be, but part of her is too afraid to stand when this stranger is so close. There's a wince as she at least tries to gather her long legs back towards her, black jeans now dusty as she scoots back a bit, sliding on her olive-green coat at least a few inches away before sitting up to support herself on her hands. The camera bag is close by her side, the strap lax about her shoulders. How is it possible to be this out of breath? She must have had the wind knocked out of her during that fall. Still, it's nothing the way those striking eyes seem to capture her attention for one moment - one brief, little moment - that fear is replaced by fascination. Only when that piece of glass is chucked off to the side does the breath exhale, a small hanging of her head as she gathers herself during his leisure-stretch. "No." And then, the annoyance sets in, bubbling from that fear that seems like it's about to manifest itself into anger. The glare she gives him is accusing, blatantly upset and - running on adrenaline, even indignant. "Did you lock the -door-?"
Damian rests his hands on his hips, his eyes slowly softening as he regards the girl there on the ground. Those sapphire blue eyes can be entrancing, and now that she's at least able to study him a bit more closely without all the fear and adrenaline clouding her mind, she can make out that flaming blue tattoo on the right side of his neck, inked the similar shade to his eye color. He takes one step back, and then to his side, before lowering himself on the set of staircases that leads up to the third floor, no railings whatsoever separating one stairway with another. Even with her path downstairs now open, there's a good chance that that might not be the best thing to do, since to her knowledge, the entrance downstairs has been locked anyway. She'll have to inquire him about that.
Damian's attention is wholly on the woman now, a slight curl of his lips showing amusement when anger creeps up into her tone. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. What's the problem? It's not like I knew that there was somebody else in the building anyway. This place's usually empty," he says as his eyes travel around the concrete room, looking at nothing in particular, before settling back onto her. "Plus, I usually go here. In fact, I -kind of- live here. I should be the one asking the questions, not -you-." Now his voice turns accusing in response to hers, aggression slowly boiling up.
The tattoo catches her attention but she isn't comfortable enough yet to let her guard down. Michelle knows she can't be distracted by a pretty color when she's trying to figure out her next move. Shove past him? Don't trip down the stairs? What about that damn door? She was fast. Fast enough to get away, she's almost positive, but not if there's a locked door in her path. The resounding 'click' from earlier echoes in her mind and she doesn't like it. As far as she remembers it was the only exit out of here. A frustrated sigh leaves her lips, brushing off her hands as she folds her legs into a criss-cross sitting position. The need to run isn't so dominant now that's he's stepped to the side - the way he looks, the way he's talking - she can only assume that he -is- one those teenagers. And she can handle that. "Yeah, well. It wasn't empty -this- time." Still annoyed, with a brush back of that multi-colored hair. But the shifting tone of his voice seems to take her off guard, a hesitance as she looks up at him quickly with a pause. There's another brief skip of a heart beat, a wary look given his way before she tries to wrap her mind around that. What Michelle -wants- to do is yell about the bleeding pentagram that's still very much at the forefront of her mind, but something seems more important. "Oh." A pause. "You're... homeless?" That makes him a little less scary. Just another runaway on the street.
There should be other exits here, namely the few busted up walls on the second floor, but is she really gonna risk jumping off and possibly risking herself than just ask him for the damn key to the door? Wait, does the door even -have- a working key? If this place is supposed to be abandon, then where the hell did he get it from? Damian tap-taps his foot on the floor repeatedly, almost as if he's waiting impatiently on something, his index fingers and nails lowly clicking against one another. "Yeah, whatever," he brashly responds to her when she claims that it isn't empty right now. He's more annoyed than anything else, but also amused? The corners of his mouth still curled upwards. There's something that spells 'trouble' about him though, something that's just... off. Wrong. Maybe it's just the overall unruly appearance of his? The tattoo, the ashen hair, that nasty expression on his face when he first saw her. It makes sense, though. In his mind, she's currently trespassing into his territory, as so far the implications have been.
He narrows his eyes when she asks him the question, that scowl returning on his expression again. He doesn't like that. "None of your business."
Oh, he's going to be -that- way. Michelle rolls her eyes a little with a shake of her head. If anyone has the right to be annoyed it's her. Those lips press into a thin line at the 'whatever' response, because she knows it's better to just drop the subject than continue. Her heartrate is slowing back to normal, the ache in her hands and back a little less, and maybe finally - allows herself to let her eyes scan over the person now in her company. She takes in his ashen hair, that tattoo that she likes (but wont tell him), and that look on his face. It's one she's seen a few times. "I mean," And Michelle nearly scoffs with an absent gesture around. "It kinda is now." Since she was, you know. Stuck here. Her tone is, off the bat, back to indignant, but quickly fades with a deep sigh. "I've been homeless before." It's the best she can do as a peace offering.
The creepy vibes from this God-forsaken place has yet to fade away. At a distance, she can make out the vague noise of someone screaming, about two blocks away from where they're at. It sounded feminine, like a girl screaming. And then again a second time, as if she was in pure agony. It's very low and vague however, though with the eerie silence still imposed, she can definitely hear it. And if Damian heard it too, he doesn't show it, nor speaks about it. He knows it's him doing all those things anyway, like a cat playing with its prey, he relishes in it, coaxing genuine human emotions out of somebody and toying with them. "No," he immediately cuts her off. "It's not." He's still got his eyes locked onto her, barely ever blinking. He doesn't sympathize with her 'peace offering'; in fact, he disgusts it, nose visibly scrunching up at that. "I don't care," again he brashly says.
"Look, just fucking tell me what the hell you were trying to do here and be on your way. You look ridiculous laying on the ground there, like what, you're gonna expect me to come over and help you stand up like I'm Prince-fucking-Charming? You want to do some formalities and introduce each other? Your name is probably Jessica." He huffs out some air after the rant, sneering.
It's still creepy, though the false-sense of security of someone her age being the reason for the spooky door, at least, was comforting for just a moment. The screaming in the distance catches her attention, the hair on the back of her neck rising as her gaze drifts side-long towards some of the busted walls. Michelle falls quiet, listening, and she's reminded that those screams could just as easily be her. She's done risky things before, been in places she shouldn't be - this was one hell of a wake-up call to at least bring... what? A tazer? Another person? She remembers her cell phone in her back pocket and that's a little comforting, but not by much. The attention shifts back to him, brow furrowing as he starts to curse. Michelle is taken aback but not so much as to stay silent after his little sneer. "Oh fuck off." She snaps. It's quick - a knee jerk reaction. "I'm just - sitting- here." And her hands come up from her lap to gesture with annoyance. "And -no-," She corrects. "It's not Jessica." But doesn't give her own because clearly he just doesn't care. This is the part where she starts to stand, to gather herself as she dusts herself off and shrugs that camera strap just a little higher. "I was leaving, anyways. Your pentagram is fucked." Aka: Creepy.
That got him. Her snapping back at his less-than-respectful words has, for some reason that can only be explained as 'ego', quite simply angered him. The scowl on his face deepens, his lips shut tight as he grits his teeth, jaws flexed and all. Damian slowly rises up, his visage now becoming even more intimidating than before, the whole 'rebellious young adult' appearane on him quickly fading away and back into 'potential serial killer'. "What the fuck did you just say to me? You better watch who you're talking to, Jessica." He points accusingly towards her, not caring one bit whether she's actually a Jessica or no, he's just visibly angry at the moment. She prooobably should've brought a tazer, or a pepper spray at the very least, or just never step into creepy looking abandoned places in the future, 'cause he's just very dangerous looking the moment he's stepping closer towards her with murder in those pretty blue eyes.
He lunges at her, arms reached out to try and grab and pull her into his embrace, struggling as he tries to do so. He can't seem to get a firm hold of her, and she can't seem to do anything but try to get him off of her at this point. "You know I could just kill you right here, right now, and nobody would fucking notice, right?!" He growls those words out to her. Finally, though, his eyes flash as they lock contact with hers. "Stop," he tells her. No, he /commands/ her.
It's true. There's nothing respectful about the way she's talking to him because Michelle is a pretty give-and-take kind of person. And he's not giving. He's not even taking! He's just being an ass, and Michelle would rather just leave. She's about to head towards that first step down when he rises, pointing at her with that finger. He's tall but so is she, though it's the way those gorgeous ice-eyes glint and the erratic venom in his voice that have her staying in place. It's not without a glare as her stomach drops, goosebumps rising on her arms and neck. Keep your shit together. Keep your shit together. She's dealt with mood swings, with druggies, with - well. Not exactly with this. Not with beautiful-eyed rage machines in a building with pentagrams. When he lunges she's quick to step back. Her arms tuck close to her chest, a frustrated growl leaving her lips as she shimmies away from him, step after step after step backwards, sideways - it doesn't matter. She'll keep going until she hits a wall. Michelle knows if he gets ahold, that's it. And she doesn't want to be that person - that victim, of whatever it is he wants to do. More than anything she doesnt want. to. be. it. "People would notice!" And it's nearly a yell, though a shaky one at best. Bluffing? Maybe. But she'll say it with as much conviction as she can muster. There's a moment where she really wants to hit him, to shove him back or punch that pretty face. There's a subtle shift in that summoned courage before he says 'stop' - and Michelle wouldn't be able to explain to anyone why she did it. Just that... she did. All she can do is swallow and stare and she doesn't know why.
Damian chuffs out air in frustration, barely able to leash in his urge to just hit Michelle right across her face with a solid backhand. He stops struggling when she does, a hand lifting up to sweep his slicked hair behind and neatly brush it again using his fingers, slightly ruffled from the little tussle with her. "Good girl," he huskily whispers, glad that the vampiric power that he's relied on for years, decades, centuries even, has worked. His hand creeps up to the side of her neck, wiping away any hair that's covering it, tilting her head to the side as he bares his fangs. They pierce right into her neck with a bob of his head, damaging her pretty skin, and sinking into her flesh. It doesn't even hurt; she's suddenly overwhelmed by a delightful sensation, the signature ecstasy that a Kindred's Kiss contains, a most potent venom.
It's better than anything she's ever felt, and not even sex can compare to this. Damian nibbles away just enough to keep him fed and satisfied, but not warrants a hospital visit on her end. She will feel the drowsiness after this though, as consequence of the blood loss. He pulls his head back, lips stained crimson red and fangs dripping hot warm blood, as he licks the wound closed and wipes the blood away with his fingers. "Good girl!" Again he says, but this time in a more excited tone, his hand caressing her forehead and slightly patting at her cheek. "You were never bitten, OK?" His lips curlinto a smile at that, the words digging their way into her mind and messing with her memories.
It's worse than watching a car crash in slow motion - and she's lived in los angeles. She's seen a lot. But it's surreal, that feeling when someones walking towards you, and you're... what? Memorized? Frozen? Helpless. That's the word. Michelle is helpless, her breath catching in her throat as his hand brushes her neck. It's such a quick glimpse of those fangs that she's not even sure she saw it correctly. Teeth. Fangs? But it's moot. It's an utterly, absolutely, moot point when he bites her. Michelle's mind goes blank and the feeling of pure pleasure rushes her like a force she couldn't possibly be prepared for. It's better than drugs - better than ecstasy, better than the thrumming of a bass with the volume all the way up on her favorite song. Sex? Definitely better than that. The rainbow girl's eyes half-lid, a small gasp of pleasure slipping past her lips. Her head feels light but her body feels tingly. It's a strange, wonderful sensation that she doesn't want to stop. Eventually, it does, and the little high leaves her a bit dopey. "Mmng?" Those dark eyes find his as he pats her cheek, a slow, tired nod given at his question. "Okay." The word is breathed out in a soft plume of air. The camera strap falls off her shoulder, the bag falling to the floor with a soft thud.
Ah, evenings like these are the ones that he'll always cherish, when a prey just wittingly stumbles into him like so. Hunting for blood on the streets can be a bit harsh, and though he's more than capable of luring somebody else that he meets on a club's dance floor or in a dive bar, it's still a good thing when your food has been served on a plate right in front of you. Damian barely registers when her bag falls off of her, instead patting around her clothes for some cash that he can just take, although he'll leave her be if there's none that he can find. "Go. On your way now," he shoos her away, his gaze finally landing on the camera bag close to his feet, bending down to pick it up. Looks like she'll have to pry it off of him someday, the next time she meets him, if she'll ever meet him again that is. Once she descends down the stairs, she'll find that the door is not locked and, in fact, it's wide open like she remembered it to be. Doubt that she'll even be able to recognize the fact though, still under the influence of his power and all. What a really weird night for her.