Nov 13, 2019 1:35 AM
A vampire's a vampire
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She breathes in the crisp morning air and stretches her arms to the sides. She's holding a sharp wooden stake in her right hand - not just a piece of wood with a pointy end, but a proper stake, with a leather handle, sharpened to a dangerously fine tip. She tosses it up and catches it in a practiced motion, readying her muscles for the potential coming fight while she waits for the sun to rise a little bit higher.

It's not a very bright day, most of the sunlight filtered through the fluffy tapestry of cloud cover, and the autumn breeze sends anticipatory shivers down her spine. It shouldn't be a hard fight. More of a scuffle, really. This vampire has been flying under the radar for a while, slipping through their scrying nets and going barely noticed. Not looking for trouble, probably. Maybe they even have a sense of self-preservation, rare as that is.

But a vampire's a vampire.

(Kinda. Terms and conditions apply.)

She looks over the vampire's hideout once more, farther than normal human eyesight should be able to see through the thin fog, courtesy of a reasonably expensive charm.

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As hideouts go, it's a strange one for a vampire. A crypt is a bit gloomy and cliche, but sturdy and easily defensible. A cute little cottage in an impressive state of repair and maintenance has no such benefits, even if it is kind of cozy and adorable. If the previous owners weren't the unfortunate victims of horrible bloody murders, it'd be downright idyllic.

There's no sign of movement from the cottage. The vampire's definitely inside, and probably asleep by this hour. Even if they aren't, there aren't a lot of avenues of retreat during the day. According to the last floor plan of this residence, there's no basement to reliably hide from the sun in. Most of the rooms even have windows, though the shutters have clearly been neatly nailed shut. For a vampire with a sense of self-preservation, this really isn't a great place to defend from vampire hunters.

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Floor plans are not actually that reliable when a vampire moved in a while ago. Renovating is easy with super strength. She'll try to be careful of traps anyway.

Once the sun is high enough, she cracks her knuckles and mutters "showtime" to herself, then carefully starts approaching the fairytale cottage.

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The fairytale cottage fails to materialize any traps. The front door is sturdy, heavy, and dead-bolted shut, but hardly any danger. Or protection.

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Yeah, pretty much. She'll still study more stealthy ways of making an entrance, like maybe picking locks and cutting deadbolts? But if there are none she's sure her foot key will be sufficient to grant her passage.

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The door does not yield to ordinary means of sneaky ingress, but yields just fine under the power of her almighty foot.

Inside the fairytale cottage is... a surprisingly homey interior. No obvious signs of a vampire here. There's a couch, coffee table, television, tasteful decorations, books neatly placed on shelves. None of the books even look particularly occult; a bit trashy, maybe, but not evil.

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...okay... she'll actually feel really bad if this is just some nice old lady's (old witch's?) cottage she just broke into.

Well. Onward. Slowly and carefully but onward.

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The house continues to look innocent and neatly kept and perfectly ordinary. The most out of the ordinary thing is a mug in the kitchen sink, filled halfheartedly with water and then abandoned to clean later. While the water is an unassuming rusty brown, the contents can be identified as (highly diluted) blood.

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And then someone from further inside calls out, "Excuse me, can I help you?"

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Why... dilute it? And. A mug? What?

But well, okay, if it's a witch it's a witch who uses blood. ........which may describe literally all witches..........

And then she immediately whirls on her feet to face the direction the voice came from, stake raised to the level of her eyes. She's still trying to pay attention behind herself - could be a trick, after all - but most of her focus is on that direction.

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And there is a woman standing in a chemise that is so revealing it's a wonder why she didn't opt to instead go naked. It looks like she emerged from the bedroom.

"Hi, yes, homeowner here, why are you breaking and entering and. Waving around bits of wood?"

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...uh.

"Because you're a vampire," she tries.

And before the vampire has time to respond she's pouncing.

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The pretty and scantily-clad redhead retreats back into the hallway with a little yelp.

"I beg your pardon? Are you on drugs? Do you have the wrong house?"

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"Lady, there is blood in your mug. And seriously? A mug?"

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"What—?" the woman continues backing up into her bedroom. "Oh, damn, I knew I should have cleaned up before going to bed. You know what this is? It's racist. Have I actually done anything?"

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That actually gives her pause. Like a tenth second's pause. "I haven't met a good vampire yet," she says, shrugging and trying to maneuver the vampire into a corner (being mindful of potential traps in her bedroom).

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The vampire is obligingly backed into a corner by the bed. She's nervously eyeing possible escape routes and also Jaqueline, but still not actually attacking her.

"Not all humans are good, but most of them manage not to murder people! Is it so surprising that a vampire would have some sense and self preservation?"

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That actually stops her. "Wait, what?"

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She opens her mouth to reply, and then stops and tilts her head.

"... You're not the Slayer," she says, blinking. "You're too old. You know what, no."

Her eyes meet Jaqueline's, and they're the most beautiful thing the vampire hunter's ever seen. Lovely and grey-green with flecks of chocolate brown, set with long dark lashes and the faintest traces of color on her perfect pale skin, and—

—wait, how did she get in this bed and in these handcuffs. Where's her stake? What just happened??

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...fuzzy handcuffs. She's. Tied to a bed in fuzzy handcuffs.

 

 

Well.

 

 

 

Count her as terrified and horny.

But also "Wait, what?"

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"Let's do this again with the power dynamics skewed in the other direction, hm?" purrs the lovely redheaded vampire who is next to her on the bed, and leaning over her and smiling. "Hi. I'm Yvette. I'm a vampire. Since turning I've never killed anyone, and also never bitten anyone without their consent. And your name?"

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Fuck. That's.

Really hot actually.

"Jaqueline. Jack, for short. It's a pleasure to meet you."

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"I wish I could say the same, lovely, but you broke down my front door! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get contractors that work at night?" She scoots closer to Jack and begins snuggling her, idly caressing her neck. "It'll be weeks before it's properly fixed."

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"I could get you fixed up along with an apology note, if your no-murders excuse is actually true," she says, looking down at the very much only technically not naked vampire touching her.

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"Oh, it is. Since lie detection magic exists I thought it wise to actually be as upstanding as I appear to be, just in case. Besides, bodies are such a pain to hide, you know? So heavy and gross." She nuzzles Jack's neck and hums. "But you're interesting, aren't you. Too well equipped to be a hobbyist or loner, too much thought and reasoning to be a Watcher. I'd thought you were the Slayer, but no, the last one died a year ago and so the new one would still be in that awkward teenage phase. Besides, I'm not really worth her time. Or yours, for that matter, why are you here."

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"Low-key vampire around town, too good at staying quiet and not making waves, our scrying nets caught you a few times and I thought, hey, I got a free Sunday."

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