Emancipated and Quite Capable

Vampires shouldn't be around in the daytime. But Jack Priest, dread vampire, had always lived -- or unlived -- to break the rules. (Besides, limiting the character to night scenes and interiors had gotten expensive. The writers had decided that a little indirect sunlight didn't count.)

He lounged in the entry to his luxurious crypt, smoking a forbidden cigarette he'd stolen from a corpse and relishing the fact he did not, technically, need to breathe to do it. He was wrapped in an indigo velvet dressing gown over his black leather pajama pants. Last night had left him with much to relish: frightening Nobody and then draining Ronan's poor, dim sister. And soon, so soon, he'd be out on the hunt again, an evil childe spreading chaos and death wherever he went.

He literally cackled to think of it.

[OOC: Open to anyone who tends to roam through graveyards. Mwah-ha-ha.]

Feeling a certain twitch just under his skin that his usual methods hadn't done much for, Jack had taken himself on a long walk through the city. He was surprised when he got home to see Sebastien waiting on the stoop in the shade of a spreading tree; usually he didn't chance even this much daylight.

He was more surprised when he noticed how pale his guardian was. Since Jack's return from Kaeleer, he had been bound up in his own thoughts and his own stresses. Sebastien had stepped back when his questions received only monosyllabic answers. Jack, he knew, would tell him when he was ready, if ever.

Though that had made it easier for Sebastien to neglect his own needs -- he feared both Jack's reaction if he took care of himself elsewhere, and rejection (or, worse, a grudging offer) if he asked Jack. He could wait.

"I've been neglecting you horribly," Jack clucked as he bounded up the stairs. "Let's get you inside, and -- forgive me."

( Sex pollen + honestly + the vampire/courtier relationship = possibly not a good match. )

A few minutes later, Sebastien refreshed and off for the evening and Jack's arm neatly bandaged, Jack leaned back against his pillows and pulled out his phone to make a few calls. Surely he wasn't the only one in Fandom to be behaving so oddly...

At the least, he hoped not.

[OOC: NFB. If you think he called you, he did. Warning for reference to sexual situations.]

After his phone calls to Jack and Kate, George was practically scrambling to get down to the pub in time (although not scrambling enough that he couldn't pause, catch his breath, and opine on the stereotypical nature of said pub). He wasn't aware of anyone else doing the same. It was mainly terror driving him forward.

What if Mitchell bit someone? What if something was wrong? What if--

He was not necessarily watching where he was going as he wandered nervously onto the pavement.

( Meanwhile, a few blocks away... )

( Mitchell's walk just outside the pub was nervous... )

[OOC: NFB, NFI, OOC cherished. Preplayed with the stellar chose_humanity and vanillajello. Follows this.]

When he got home from school this weekend, Jack hung his coat neatly, gave the maid three days off, and took Sebastien to bed before he could say much of anything.

Well, the wampyr did look pale. That was justification for ... about half of it. Though, in truth, Jack might have done much the same even if Sebastien were the picture of undead health.

( Eventually they had to talk. )

[OOC: NFB, NFI, OOC-OK]

The fake blood procured from Sookie looked appetizing, at least. Jack had seen to that. A few warmed ounces had been decanted into a crystal goblet, and it sat at Sebastien's place at the supper table. The crimson of the blood was barely darker than the roses in the center of the table in the gaslight.

Jack watched Sebastien lift it to his nose and sniff delicately. To Jack, it smelled as hot and coppery as real blood, but he knew he was less attuned to this than Sebastien would be.

"It should be safe," Jack said into the silence. "I would never risk you if -- if the people I had talked to weren't so certain of it. And you have Miss Randall to sup from, if the blood disagrees with you."

There was an edge to Jack's voice. He didn't like Sebastien's new housekeeper and courtesan, for no reason much more substantial than that she had taken his place to some extent, but was trying his hardest to be pleasant about the woman. Miss Randall, older and wiser than Jack, had found reasons to be absent for most of his visit home, this test included.

"She won't be necessary," Sebastien said wearily as he lifted the goblet to his lips. He'd fed from Jack the night before, so his skin was flushed to an almost healthy degree. Doubtfully, he let the slightest taste of the nectar coat his mouth and throat. Jack watched his fangs protrude as he did.

The silence as Sebastien swallowed was unbearable. "Well?" Jack finally asked.

"I ... don't feel sick." They both knew that meant this worked better than animal blood at least; that much was encouraging. Sebastien took a heartier gulp, then looked at Jack and smiled with a mouth stained as if by some gory rouge.

"Barring any interesting delayed reaction, I suspect at least one useful thing has come out of your school. You can get a pint a week?"

"Easily," Jack said. He was finally breathing again, and he loosened the fingers he didn't realize he had clenched on the table. "And I'll still come home. Of course."

The artificial blood might replace Miss Randall, if Jack was lucky. He would never let it replace him.

[OOC: NFB due to distances both chronological and physical. True Blood modded with permission of justwantsquiet. OOC is a beautiful thing.]

Jack was a little pale and tired (and, really, he could hardly complain about either, stemming as they did from Sebastien's bite) when he got back to the dorms Monday night, but entirely pleased by how his visit home had gone. Travel had been all but too simple, and Sebastien had seemed content as they'd moved most of their belongings into a brick rowhouse -- small, but neat, and near the harbor. Jack couldn't help but note how much easier that would make moving on the next time.

Sebastien showed no surprise on hearing DCI Garrett was also in Fandom; Jack shouldn't have been surprised by that. The detective, after all, had his ways. The news Jack's quiet boarding school was in 2009 had been a bit more of a surprise, but after ten centuries, one or two scarcely mattered to Sebastien. He'd merely asked Jack to pay attention to everything on the island -- as if he ever wouldn't -- and sent him back off.

Jack glanced about his side of the room he'd spent so little time in thus far and decided finishing his unpacking could wait until he felt more properly inspired for the work. For now, he'd flop back on his bed with one of his U.S. history books, watching the hall for anyone who might be able to tell him what he'd missed.

[OOC: Open post! Specifics of Emmett convo NFB, please.]