nolongerhollow: (snarl)
[spam for 8th Floor]
[A terrible row is coming from within Cabin 16; inhuman roaring, smashing, thuds, and the sound of heavy wood furniture being knocked to splinters. It is so violent that the heavy, ironbound oak door shakes in its frame. Dracula has almost completely lost it, at long last, and he is done with swallowing his anger down and letting it turn into despair. At least he manages to take it out on his furniture instead of people. For now. But eventually there is nothing left to destroy, and the noise grows silent save for a long snarl.]

[private to Narvin]
[Dracula's voice is a metallic, inhuman rumble, full of rage.]

I will need replacements for all of my furniture.

And I strongly suggest that you let me into the CES and leave me there for at least a few days.


[post-Omega spam for CES: All Wednesday]
[There is a beast loose in the CES, and he doesn't give a damn about much of anything. He's avoiding people, because he knows that at the slightest conflict his rage will likely lead to someone's injury or death, but there are too many people even here for him to avoid them completely. So he tries to fill himself on animal blood and vent on the environment as best he can. But what he really rages against is not animals or stones or deadfalls, but so many he has had to deal with here. Hell is other people.] 
nolongerhollow: (OMG!)
 [He starts out solemn and sad.] I would like to hear from, or about, those who have graduated while under an interim or no...

...eh? [confusion]

...ehm, Warden...

[FLUSTERED]

Why am I sparkling?!?

[spam for all over/lazy log for all flood]
[See Dracula. See Dracula attempting to go about his business gardening, getting blood from the dining hall and waiting for Stildyne outside the CES while generating a big shiny cloud of auric energy. To those currently capable of seeing auras, just like his flustered self, Dracula's is just as flamboyant and dramatic as he is. It roils, it shimmers, it is full of grey depression, silver sadness, platinum gleams of hope--and little red jags of irritation that intensify and streak with fuscia embarrassment every damn time he notices the light show. And yes, it sparkles. It sparkles like a giant spill of Drake's best glitter eyeshadow. Maybe if he pretends that everything is normal, nobody will notice....]
nolongerhollow: (brood)
[Dracula sits at one of the packed tables contemplating a beer that he can only manage tiny sips of. His manner is very relaxed, but there is a sadness around his eyes that totally ruins his usual mask of indifference. He has met too many beautiful and interesting women who are going to die. One has a few years left, but the others will fall into oblivion at the end of the night. It is not right; it is not fair. Never have humans seemed more mayfly-lived and fragile than they do to him now, and it is giving him unaccustomed heartache.]

...Why? [he rasped softly in his unmistakable accent.] Why should I get a second chance when they do not?

[The question is best directed at the Admiral, but he cannot wish for a single one of those lives to be saved until he makes graduation and becomes a Warden. If he manages it. Right now he is so wrapped in grief for people he barely  knows that he can't even think about making plans for his examination and exorcism. It doesn't help that he hasn't been able to get in contact with Luke.]

All three of them deserve better.

[He chokes down another sip of beer.]
nolongerhollow: (wellshit)
[Dracula, haggard and even more sunken looking than usual, stares at the screen. He wants very much to go into a rant. He wants to scream that he is tired of Hunters and their genocidal madness, their casual racism and hate, their harassing him now, after taking everything from him. He wants to demand that his people’s right to live be placed as equal with that of every other race. He wants to curse out Aleera for expecting him to forgive the Hunters and wish them well, when they themselves would never ever extend him the same courtesy. Certainly he wants to curse her out for simultaneously breaking his newly-awakened heart. But he knows that all speaking will get him is mocked, so after a moment, he scowls, reaches over, and switches the communicator to a private channel.]


[Private to Luke]

I need to be let into the CES and left there until my gardening shift—at minimum. More if you will allow it. I want nothing to do with the people on this damned crate right now. If anyone asks where I have gone, especially Aleera or those genocidal murderers, I ask that you not tell them.

 

[Spam for deck/above deck]

[He doesn’t want to be around anyone. But he has to wait outside for Luke to come and open the CES door for him. So until Luke arrives, he flies high in the air above the deck, turning in slow, melancholy circles as he tries to distract himself.]


nolongerhollow: (thatswhatimtalkinbout)
 [A familiar tall shape strolls the damp streets as the morning fog rolls back toward the shore. He's one of the more permanent locals: Vlad Dragos, once a Hungarian mercenary turned pirate, now semiretired and seeking his fortune in the small colony. His intimidating figure is softened by the smile he almost always wears; there is a bounce in his step and hope in his expression as he makes his way toward the opening shops. In one big, pale fist he has an incongruous bunch of fresh-picked wildflowers, and he's humming.]
nolongerhollow: (girlywtf)
[Dracula transformed in the shower.]

[Ironically, he didn't entirely need to shower; he did not sweat, and only got dirty after killing in the CES or working in the gardens. But he loved the feel of being warm, and the shower was a luxury in spite of the relative lack of privacy. So he was humming and scrubbing away, nose wrinkled at the smell of the modern soap, when the Barge jolted and he found himself running his hands over a tall, athletic woman's slim curves. Normally he'd have been delighted by such a development, except that said curves were, inexplicably, now his. Or hers, rather. Once the initial shock was sorted out, Dracula discovered that the clothes he had brought in no longer fit her. This required her to make a mad dash for her room clad only in a towel. Never had she been so glad for vampiric speed....]

[It seems she is to spend the rest of her weekend in her chambers. Not because she is particularly ashamed of her new form, but rather because suddenly not a damn thing in her closet fits her. And so she is swathed in her fullest-length leather coat, buttoned up and belted tightly around her waist, with one of her dress shirts underneath--but is barefoot and bare-legged under the edge of the coat. She's hoping nobody notices as she sneaks out to the Library to get herself enough books to last the weekend.] 
nolongerhollow: (baffled)
 [Faint rustling. A cough. He has just gotten finished reading his last entry. In a very soft, baffled rasp:]

I think that I went a little mad.

[A long hesitation]

I...would like to speak with individuals who are considerably above human power. Just one question, but...I will keep the answers in confidence.

[private to Luke]
I...

I think that I need to talk to you rather urgently.

nolongerhollow: (lol)
 Heh-heh-heh-heh.

[The voice is hollow and tinged with madness. The camera pans across the pickets of a low metal fence, every few of the iron spears capped by a severed head in a GeneCop mask. Two other severed heads have joined the four--both Repos, their faces showing.]

Heh ha...

[A white, clawed hand removes the GeneCops' masks one at a time, revealing the horrified and agonized expressions of the faces beneath.]

[Dracula's voice rasps softly, broken by little snickers and the odd rumbling laugh.]

Dear, dear "repossession artists". Tell me, do these faces seem familiar to you? Coworkers? Friends, perhaps? Now...how does that make you feel? Pain? Outrage? Helplessness? I don't imagine it makes you fear, since you seem universally to be idiots. Otherwise you would never have challenged me.

You decided to join in the murder game, children. But what you forgot is that there are people out here who are better at the game than you are. And when you started attacking me and killing my friends...your lives became forfeit.

[The talons push one of the faces' slack mouths up into a smile.]

Heh-heh-heh.

[The camera pans around the graveyard, focusing briefly on various landmarks.]

Here is where I am! Come, try and avenge your fellows! Come and add to my collection! 

[The feed cuts, and Dracula takes off immediately, heading for an old house at the very edge of the graveyard. He scrambles up the wall and finds a roof gable to perch on, and crouches low, watching for his prey to come into sight. He knows there is a possibility that he will be the one to die...but at least that way he will get to stop feeling for a while.]
nolongerhollow: (wtf?)
 What on Earth or its variants is going on around here? 

[He knows something is up. There was that shake-up in the middle of the night, and now people are running around distracted and acting bizarrely. The new vampire was spouting French poetry and wearing ruffles. Ruffles! Whatever the affliction going around is, it seems more than a little ridiculous, and he has no idea whether it will come to affect him or not. He has in fact decided to lock himself in with some good reading for the duration, barring his duties at the garden.]

[And so he's broadcasting from the new library, which he is exploring antigravity style, wandering around on the ceiling to keep anyone from getting in his way. Eventually though he has to jump down to examine a row of books.]
nolongerhollow: (brood)
[private to Lestat]
The vampire hunters are growing more numerous, powerful and influential; they now outnumber us. We can expect no particular backup from my former Bride, as she is a Warden and bound by their rules. I am certain that as these genocidal bastards grow more numerous they will grow braver about their "crusade" as well. Soon, in spite of the fact that it is not their right  here, I am certain they will attempt a hunt. We must determine what to do under such circumstances...off the network. Thus I wish to meet in person. These self-righteous filth must not be allowed to persecute us! Not again...

[Spam for 8th Floor Common Room]
[Bitter laugher echoes through the air. Sitting cross-legged on the ceiling of the common room, Dracula reads the letter from Armand one last time, savoring each sappy, hypocritical word. The human ran home to his wife, abandoning his duties and obligations, just as so many have before in this place. Wardens. So completely typical. For days, he was devastated; but then he got some objectivity on the issue and realized: what precisely had the human done for him? Not much. Not much at all. And now he is gone, leaving Dracula with neither representation nor access to his precious hunting grounds.]

[His laughter swells manically for a moment and then cuts off in a low growl. Tossing the fragile paper into the air, he claws at it with his newly-boosted speed, shredding it into illegible confetti before it can fall out of his reach. Armand had gotten one thing right, certainly; the little man had seen to it that a significant portion of his powers had just been restored. The burden of humiliation and weakness that bowed his shoulders has been partly lifted after so long, and now...he feels more himself than he had since coming here.]
 
If the hunters do attack us I will have a terrible surprise waiting for them.
nolongerhollow: (cursed)
[private to Mark Hoffman]
Apologies are not enough. Therefore when you are feeling social again, I shall place my pointed nose in peril again at your convenience.

[Private to Vasilia]
Words cannot express my regret at having frightened you. Apologies are insufficient in this matter, and I only hope that I have not alienated you completely.

[Private to Drake, Freddy and Chromie]
I am in your debt.

[And...a very reluctant letter to Santa.]
Christmas List: Armand, Hoffman, Vasilia, Drake, Tony, Stildyne, Freddy, Chromie, Aleera, Lua )

[Spam for Deck]
[
He has been working on the snow-castle for the better part of two weeks now, and is down to the fine details--window columns, gargoyles, icicles. He works with wet fingers, painting a crust of ice over the bits as he finishes them to give them some added strength. As he works, his breath does not mist from the cold. He occasionally levitates so that he can work on the roof-peaks without reaching over anything.]
nolongerhollow: (ballroom)
[Dracula had piled up a great mass of snow near the gardens and packed it together well. Now, using his claws, he was slowly gouging out a rough outline of a castle. He didn't know why exactly; he had simply grown bored of flying finally, but was loath to return to his quarters. Marishka's company had gone cold and nagging; every time that she saw him she asked if he had made a kill yet. He couldn't stand it, so instead...he carved the tight-packed snow with hands that never once heated the material into softness.]
nolongerhollow: (disdain)
As it turns out, I would rather suffer faeries than fools.

Unfortunately right now I am suffering both.

[private to Lestat]
Apparently, all my warnings and advice fell on deaf ears. Apparently your ego and appetites eclipse your common sense by a hundredfold. Now those two bitches are out for vampire blood again, and there is absolutely no guarantee that they will stop with you.

You're an idiot. And no, you may not come to me for aid.

Enjoy your cage.

[private to Armand]
I need to be let into the CES and left there for several hours.

[spam for upper deck]
Dracula was brooding heavily. Marishka kept asking him what was wrong with attacking and feeding on the local mortals, and she just plain wasn't smart or mature enough to understand the reasons he gave her. But she was his wife--the last Bride he had left who had not abandoned him. If he angered her too much she would leave as well. Now what was he supposed to do?

He stayed out of sight, clinging to the roof of the CES, watching for Armand. He had to get away for a while, even if that escape was an illusion. The blood of animals was thin and unsatisfying, but at least if he found a grizzly or some other creature he could get a good fight out of it.
nolongerhollow: (lol)
[The scene is the inside of a rather fanciful Mexican dive bar. Dracula, hair down and askew and a sloppy smile on his face, occasionally swings into view as the camera wobbles around. He has a big bone vuvuzela propped on one shoulder and a very squawky bone parrot on the other.]

Drake! I found you a pet! Isn't he charming?

"AWRK! Bite me."

[He sporfles and waves a hand.} I have discovered a new rule about this strange new country--follow the foot-ball fans. They know where the best bars are hiding!

Right, I was going to ask something...[he taps his colorless lips with a finger.]

Has anyone seen Armand?

Also--HOFFMAN!  You and George must come drink with me. I can finally do it. Of course I discovered the hard way that I no longer have any tolerance whatsoever, but that will make it more entertaining, yes? [A roar of laughter]

[Spam]
[Dracula is perched on a stool at a saddle-leather-covered bar with skull shaped beer mugs and walls covered with skeleton art. He has with spectacular lack of foresight offered up his gold ponytail holder in return for buying drinks for the house, and is now lounging around with his hair flopping everywhere and enough beer in him to make up look vaguely like down.]
nolongerhollow: (troubled)
[Dracula sits in the semidark, his shades drawn and the fire in his grate down to embers. He stares at the screen and his eyes flicker slightly. He drums his fingers briefly on his desk, where the communicator sits, but says nothing. Hesitates. Then sighs and sits back.]

This is pointless.
nolongerhollow: (rain)
[A tall black shape stands at the very bow of the ship, staring out into the distance. Every once in a while his eyes glitter like an extra pair of stars, though his face is almost expressionless. A pallid mask. One hand is still slightly withered, and he covers it with the other as he holds himself arrow-straight against the railing.]

The humans have a platitude I have heard a few times now: "No good deed goes unpunished." That certainly seems to be the case now. I give up a woman for her own good--if it is so--and we both suffer for it. I try to play the hero and lose my hand and the day. Take a beating for a friend. Give up everything I am to adhere to the morals of humans who are poor indeed at adhering to them themselves. Pointless. Ridiculous!

[He feels that same gnawing in his chest and sets his jaw against it.] 

If only Marishka were here. She among my Brides would still be herself. She among them would still accept me as I am instead of demanding that I change until I cannot recognize myself.  She alone among them would not side with those damned, disrespectful, xenophobic mortals. She would side with me.

Marishka. [His voice is soft and almost desperate, and suddenly he realizes that he was an inch from being vulnerable to Flagg's dealmaking after all. If only he had thought of his last loyal Bride then.]

[And for a moment he can almost smell her scent, and feel the pressure of her hand on his arm. It's so close to real that he actually turns around...]

[...and sighs, his eyes glimmering.]
nolongerhollow: (omg!)
[[OOC: After this, so forward-dated. Action is on the Mods' post. Please note: the rescue attempt will not be successful.]]

I need any available hands capable of heavy combat to meet me at once. I have the means to open the CES but it is being guarded by something I cannot kill by myself. Send a private message for more details.
nolongerhollow: (bitchplease)
I was going to suggest that we make up a list of places to avoid around ship due to the disturbing imagery being played out regularly, but unfortunately the dining area is one of those places.

[Friends filter]
If you require a safe place to shelter or company while walking around the Barge, I am making myself available.

[Mostly because he's a great big lonely lump of vampire and the creepy stuff doesn't actually bother him.] 
 
[Spam for 8th Floor Common Room]
Unhappy vampire brooding below the cut.... )
nolongerhollow: (lean)
*ksht ksht*

*white noise overlaying the sound of footsteps pacing back and forth and the occasional manic laugh or soft growl.*

[Private to Hoffman]
Deep breaths, fratele meu. You do not want to spend your birthday in zero, and *ksssssht* do this right we need a plan and time for his guard to erode.

[Private, Romanian to Aleera]
James Moriarty is the one who decided to make it look like you had killed Remus Lupin.

I know that *ksssssssssshhhhhhhhht* but nevertheless I am obligated to make the offer.

Say one word, one single word of yes and I will string him up by his bowels for you.

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