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Oct 18, 2019 2:01 AM
vamprainai kidnaps a z and a jean
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"That's very kind of you. I hope I won't be too much trouble."

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"No, no, you're fine, I'm sorry you have to deal with this at all! Do not for one second think that you are a burden. Naomi, could you maybe take Tano to one of the spare rooms?"

     "The nice one?" she asks, meaning the one that doesn't have any evidence of torture or murder or adjacent activities.

"Yeah. The nice one."

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"...I'll really be fine wherever."

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"There's really no point in having a nice guest room if you're not going to put any of your guests there," says Imrainai, cheerfully. 

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"I suppose so. Do you all live here, then?"

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"Mhm! Me and Naomi and Roman and Zana and Z and Lily and Phoebe and Anna and Christine and Apollo. But some of those people are out right now."

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"I see. At home that would be unusual, so many living together - unless you're family?"

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"Not all of us! We're a bit of a self-contained community here, and we're not all in just the one building. Maybe you'll have the chance to meet everyone later! Uh, but only if that sounds interesting, I totally understand if you need to take some time to process all of this."

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"I'd certainly be pleased to meet anybody who'd like to meet me."

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"Sure! Dinner's in like two hours, maybe you can sit down and meet the people who are here then! You should really get settled first, though."

Naomi stands and motions for him to follow her. She doesn't offer to help him up from the couch. The vampires, being vampires, can hear the bones in his leg crunching together, but saying anything about that would both compromise the game and keep them from being silently entertained by the spectacle of Tano acting through a broken leg.

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It's a very entertaining spectacle, if you're the sort of person who's entertained by watching someone act completely normal while walking across the room.

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While knowing that someone is trying not to give any sign of physical suffering! Maybe Imrainai finds that more entertaining than most people.

When he and Naomi are definitely out of earshot, she stands on the couch, crosses her arms, and looks thoughtful. "Well that was fun, but we've gotta find some way to figure out what kind of artist he is. What do you think, Z?"

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He hugs his knees and looks up at her from the floor.

"...I mean...you could ask him."

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She considers.

"I guess I could do that. D'you think it'll work?"

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He shrugs.

"It might. But if he's got something he doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it."

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"Yeah, that's the thing! I think it might be impossible to get him to open up by being nice to him, in which case I guess we're going to have to be mean."

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He tries so, so hard to keep his expression exactly the same.

"Maybe he just doesn't trust you yet."

...and he instantly regrets opening his mouth.

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"Maybe," she says, doubtfully. "But I feel like the normal humans bit is going to wear out before it works, you know? So unless you have any brilliant ideas for how to earn that trust on a reasonable timescale, I think maybe we should skip ahead to the threats of grievous bodily harm."

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Fuck.

 

He's pretty short on brilliant ideas.

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"Maybe you could talk to him?" she says, squatting down next to him. "I know you know the rooms are bugged, so you would never say something to him that you wouldn't say in front of me. And maybe something will come to you. He's probably going to need to borrow some of your clothes anyway. I feel like we can't just hand him a habit and call it a day."

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"Yeah," he says, hating everything and sort of wanting to die. "Okay."

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"OK! Maybe after dinner! You should probably get started on dinner right after you finish cleaning up the chapel."

She pats his head.

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He doesn't even flinch. He just nods, gets up, and walks to the chapel.

At least he's not mopping up blood, this time.

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Well, there's a tiny bit of blood. Imrainai seems pretty unconcerned with the few drops of blood she lost during the ritual, though.

Zana is the only person left in the chapel. All of the spellbooks have been taken away, and she's clutching a book on dimensional organization like a life preserver.

"We can't open a portal," she informs him. "Her blood was a catalyst; the payments were the human sacrifices she's been doing. We'll have to - we'll think of something else, I guess."

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He's so fucking tired.

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