don't touch my emotions, or else
don't touch my emotions, or else
jasper/jane. r. 1892.
Something stronger than steel and iron holds him captive, and she's standing in the corner of the room right now. Staring at him with those dark eyes, a half smile always on her face.
He is so, so thirsty.
He has been held prisoner in this room for longer than he can remember. If it had been made with steel bars and iron walls, he could have easily escaped by now. But no, it is lavishly decorated, expensively designed, with comfort being its main objective. He's lying on a plush bed on top of a silken coverlet.
Something stronger than steel and iron holds him captive, and she's standing in the corner of the room right now. Staring at him with those dark eyes, a half smile always on her face. If he were to try and stand up, to try and leave his overstuffed jail cell -- well, he can't even think about that, because it's happened to him too many times already.
What's worse is that he's not even allowed to die. He's kept constantly in this state of half-being and he can't even remember his own name, can't remember the purpose he once had. Blood fills his thoughts -- its warmth sliding down his throat, filling him with heady sustenance and life...
And he can't help but feel like a monster.
x x x
Jasper was a heat-seeking missile, locked onto his prey.
He was attuned to all the different characteristics of his victim -- the speed it ran, the sound of its labored breathing, and now, the scent of its blood. He was a patient hunter, chasing the elk by matching its pace exactly. His strategy was to wear the animal down, dogging its steps with effortless fluidity, a white blue slipping through the trees.
And now his prey was tiring.
As soon as he heard the elk's lungs gasping for air, as soon as he felt it slow its mad dash -- he leaped.
It had been so long since he'd hunted. He was already savoring the taste of the warm blood on his tongue, already anticipating being back home with Alice in his arms. Perhaps this was his mistake -- thinking during a hunt was dangerous. But suddenly, a blinding pain erupted behind his eyes, and he cried out, collapsing to the ground.
He heard a light laugh from somewhere above his head, and then a wave of powerfully intense curiosity filled his senses. The agony was gone as soon as it had come, and he stood up slowly to take stock of his surroundings.
"Jane," he said expressionlessly.
She was there, not eight feet away from him. The elk was, of course, long gone. He felt his eyes darken, but he concentrated carefully on a feeling of peace. Serenity.
Jane's eyes narrowed.
He screamed again as she employed her gift on him. His chest was being crushed, his arms and legs stabbed with pins and needles -- his eyes were squeezed shut with the effort of not falling to pieces --
"That's what I'll do to you if you use your gift on me," Jane hissed. "I like my feelings just the way they are."
The anger was pouring off of her...but then she seemed to gain control of herself, smoothing her expression as well as her internal emotions. The pain lifted. Jane was curious again, and she smiled sweetly at him. "But I'm doing this the wrong way. Would you come with me?"
Jasper knew there was no way he could say no. When he stood up again and took a small step toward her, her smile stretched wider. She spun on her heel and ran, but before they'd gone a quarter mile, Jane stopped abruptly. Jasper almost collided with her tiny form. In an instant, he was on his knees gasping for unnecessary breath, and Jane's face was less than an inch away from his.
Anger. Revenge. "If you try to escape, your darling Alice is going to get a personal visit from me." She paused to let that sink in. "And I think she'll find I'm a much better fighter than she thinks." A grin flashed on her face, and she was a satisfied cat again.
x x x
It's the only memory he has, right now, because it's the last one before he was captured. He can still remember himself imagining drinking from that animal, but he can't remember the significance of the word Alice. He thinks he knows the reason for the clarity of some of his memories and fuzziness of others -- anything without the word blood has been erased, somehow, because that's all he can think about. Thick blood, drinking blood, fill his veins with life.
This is the worst thirst he's ever felt. He doesn't really remember, of course, but it feels like the worst. He knows that on the day Jane captured him, it had been at least two weeks since his last hunt, but that was an eternity ago. He can't really know for certain how long he's been under Jane's watchful eye. She hasn't left the room yet, which probably means he's been there less than about two weeks. Jane hasn't hunted at all since she took him captive.
As he's thinking this, a door in the dark room swings open, and a tall dark-skinned vampire (dark-skinned? He didn't know that was possible) walks into the room. Jane smirks at Jasper, whispering, "Be a good little boy," before sauntering toward the now-open door. Jasper seizes his chance, realizing that she's going to go hunt and he wants some too -- the thoughts swirling in his head, making him only more thirsty -- he's standing up, he's running at the door --
And he blinks when he comes to his senses. He hasn't moved an inch.
"Try that again, and Jane'll hear about it," growls a rough voice.
Is he paralyzed? He tries to breathe but he can't. His eyes aren't moving -- they're staring resolutely up at the ceiling. This is almost worse torture than being under Jane's eye, especially when he knows she's out hunting and he's imagining himself in her position instead. He can't help it. It's probably been at least four weeks since he's sated his thirst and now, he thinks he might be going crazy.
Because he smells human blood. It's filling the room with it's incredibly strong aroma, and it's the sweetest thing he's ever smelled. In the back of his mind he knows he's probably imagining things, but when it's this good how could he possibly care? His senses are in overdrive and he can tell the blood is fresh, as though the human was just recently killed --
"Like it?" asks Jane lightly, and he hadn't even heard her come in the room.
He still can't move, can't breathe, can't look, but he can still smell it. It's permeating his skin. This is worse than anything Jane has ever dreamed up so far -- a human this close to him, and he's not allowed to drink it.
"Let him breathe, Matteo."
Jasper's chest isn't being compressed anymore. He takes a deep breath and the air saturated with the scent of blood fills his lungs. He can taste it on his tongue, and his breathing quickens and gets heavier, almost as though he's trying to drink the air. It's tantalizing, and he think he might go insane...He's struggling so hard against his invisible bindings that he can feel Matteo's frustration.
Just then, Jane leans over Jasper, so that his frozen eyes can see her delighted face. She brings her hands up and Jasper sees that they're completely covered in dark blood. A wicked smile flashes across her features, and then she uses the first finger of her right hand to paint Jasper's lips.
He can't lick his lips -- he's going to die if he doesn't drink, he's going to go insane and kill anyone and anything in sight --
"Release him," she breathes.
As he processes this he can feel his bindings dissolve. The first thing he does is bring his tongue to his lips. The tiny taste does nothing to satisfy him, because he needs more. He springs agilely up and crouches on top of the bed, looking nothing more than some sort of deadly, wild panther. One glance around the room reveals a dead girl near the doorway, her neck, arms, and legs broken with blood flowing freely from the wounds.
In less than a second his mouth is stretched wide, teeth sunk into the soft pale skin. The thick red liquid slides down his throat. It's better than he'd imagined after so many days, so many weeks of daydreaming. He can almost feel his eyes changing color, feel his muscles strengthen. And the fire in his chest is sated.
But although all the blood in the girl's body is gone, being processed by his system, he can still smell it. He raises his head and slowly turns around, and there is his answer. Jane has blood all over her. He inches toward her, his catlike gait on the verge of shifting into a crouch, and lowers his head to her hands. Tentatively, Jasper stretches forward and licks the blood off one finger.
Jane's tiny body shudders, and somewhere in his mind, Jasper remembers another woman who was just as small, whom he had loved. But there has never been any woman but Jane, hasn't there? All he knows is that Jane is so familiar all of a sudden, and he grabs her hand, standing up and staring into her eyes. Without breaking their gaze he raises her tiny palm to his mouth and draws his tongue across it, watching her face. She shivers and moans, and then he's at her lips, tasting the blood that's staining her lips and teeth.
It's passion stronger than he can remember feeling, and everything is extra-sensitive after the recent hunt. He can't stop himself now. After so long of not moving, not drinking, not touching, this is almost too much. He's lost in the sensation and he's rough, sliding his large hands up Jane's dark shirt and pressing her against himself. She deftly undoes the buttons on his bloodstained jeans and he slides her shirt off her head. She's not wearing a bra underneath -- he notices that she doesn't really need to -- and he's hungry, hungry for more. He pulls his own shirt off and then a few seconds later they're both completely naked, with him forcefully shoving her onto the bed. They kiss again, and it's more brutal than anything yet.
Jane giggles against his mouth, murmuring, "Alice would like this."
Alice.
A flood of memories barrage his consciousness. Alice, her tiny form so like Jane's. But her happy loving eyes, her soft touch -- not this vindictive creature in his arms at all, not even remotely the same. What has he done?
Alice, I'm coming for you.
jasper/jane. r. 1892.
Something stronger than steel and iron holds him captive, and she's standing in the corner of the room right now. Staring at him with those dark eyes, a half smile always on her face.
He is so, so thirsty.
He has been held prisoner in this room for longer than he can remember. If it had been made with steel bars and iron walls, he could have easily escaped by now. But no, it is lavishly decorated, expensively designed, with comfort being its main objective. He's lying on a plush bed on top of a silken coverlet.
Something stronger than steel and iron holds him captive, and she's standing in the corner of the room right now. Staring at him with those dark eyes, a half smile always on her face. If he were to try and stand up, to try and leave his overstuffed jail cell -- well, he can't even think about that, because it's happened to him too many times already.
What's worse is that he's not even allowed to die. He's kept constantly in this state of half-being and he can't even remember his own name, can't remember the purpose he once had. Blood fills his thoughts -- its warmth sliding down his throat, filling him with heady sustenance and life...
And he can't help but feel like a monster.
x x x
Jasper was a heat-seeking missile, locked onto his prey.
He was attuned to all the different characteristics of his victim -- the speed it ran, the sound of its labored breathing, and now, the scent of its blood. He was a patient hunter, chasing the elk by matching its pace exactly. His strategy was to wear the animal down, dogging its steps with effortless fluidity, a white blue slipping through the trees.
And now his prey was tiring.
As soon as he heard the elk's lungs gasping for air, as soon as he felt it slow its mad dash -- he leaped.
It had been so long since he'd hunted. He was already savoring the taste of the warm blood on his tongue, already anticipating being back home with Alice in his arms. Perhaps this was his mistake -- thinking during a hunt was dangerous. But suddenly, a blinding pain erupted behind his eyes, and he cried out, collapsing to the ground.
He heard a light laugh from somewhere above his head, and then a wave of powerfully intense curiosity filled his senses. The agony was gone as soon as it had come, and he stood up slowly to take stock of his surroundings.
"Jane," he said expressionlessly.
She was there, not eight feet away from him. The elk was, of course, long gone. He felt his eyes darken, but he concentrated carefully on a feeling of peace. Serenity.
Jane's eyes narrowed.
He screamed again as she employed her gift on him. His chest was being crushed, his arms and legs stabbed with pins and needles -- his eyes were squeezed shut with the effort of not falling to pieces --
"That's what I'll do to you if you use your gift on me," Jane hissed. "I like my feelings just the way they are."
The anger was pouring off of her...but then she seemed to gain control of herself, smoothing her expression as well as her internal emotions. The pain lifted. Jane was curious again, and she smiled sweetly at him. "But I'm doing this the wrong way. Would you come with me?"
Jasper knew there was no way he could say no. When he stood up again and took a small step toward her, her smile stretched wider. She spun on her heel and ran, but before they'd gone a quarter mile, Jane stopped abruptly. Jasper almost collided with her tiny form. In an instant, he was on his knees gasping for unnecessary breath, and Jane's face was less than an inch away from his.
Anger. Revenge. "If you try to escape, your darling Alice is going to get a personal visit from me." She paused to let that sink in. "And I think she'll find I'm a much better fighter than she thinks." A grin flashed on her face, and she was a satisfied cat again.
x x x
It's the only memory he has, right now, because it's the last one before he was captured. He can still remember himself imagining drinking from that animal, but he can't remember the significance of the word Alice. He thinks he knows the reason for the clarity of some of his memories and fuzziness of others -- anything without the word blood has been erased, somehow, because that's all he can think about. Thick blood, drinking blood, fill his veins with life.
This is the worst thirst he's ever felt. He doesn't really remember, of course, but it feels like the worst. He knows that on the day Jane captured him, it had been at least two weeks since his last hunt, but that was an eternity ago. He can't really know for certain how long he's been under Jane's watchful eye. She hasn't left the room yet, which probably means he's been there less than about two weeks. Jane hasn't hunted at all since she took him captive.
As he's thinking this, a door in the dark room swings open, and a tall dark-skinned vampire (dark-skinned? He didn't know that was possible) walks into the room. Jane smirks at Jasper, whispering, "Be a good little boy," before sauntering toward the now-open door. Jasper seizes his chance, realizing that she's going to go hunt and he wants some too -- the thoughts swirling in his head, making him only more thirsty -- he's standing up, he's running at the door --
And he blinks when he comes to his senses. He hasn't moved an inch.
"Try that again, and Jane'll hear about it," growls a rough voice.
Is he paralyzed? He tries to breathe but he can't. His eyes aren't moving -- they're staring resolutely up at the ceiling. This is almost worse torture than being under Jane's eye, especially when he knows she's out hunting and he's imagining himself in her position instead. He can't help it. It's probably been at least four weeks since he's sated his thirst and now, he thinks he might be going crazy.
Because he smells human blood. It's filling the room with it's incredibly strong aroma, and it's the sweetest thing he's ever smelled. In the back of his mind he knows he's probably imagining things, but when it's this good how could he possibly care? His senses are in overdrive and he can tell the blood is fresh, as though the human was just recently killed --
"Like it?" asks Jane lightly, and he hadn't even heard her come in the room.
He still can't move, can't breathe, can't look, but he can still smell it. It's permeating his skin. This is worse than anything Jane has ever dreamed up so far -- a human this close to him, and he's not allowed to drink it.
"Let him breathe, Matteo."
Jasper's chest isn't being compressed anymore. He takes a deep breath and the air saturated with the scent of blood fills his lungs. He can taste it on his tongue, and his breathing quickens and gets heavier, almost as though he's trying to drink the air. It's tantalizing, and he think he might go insane...He's struggling so hard against his invisible bindings that he can feel Matteo's frustration.
Just then, Jane leans over Jasper, so that his frozen eyes can see her delighted face. She brings her hands up and Jasper sees that they're completely covered in dark blood. A wicked smile flashes across her features, and then she uses the first finger of her right hand to paint Jasper's lips.
He can't lick his lips -- he's going to die if he doesn't drink, he's going to go insane and kill anyone and anything in sight --
"Release him," she breathes.
As he processes this he can feel his bindings dissolve. The first thing he does is bring his tongue to his lips. The tiny taste does nothing to satisfy him, because he needs more. He springs agilely up and crouches on top of the bed, looking nothing more than some sort of deadly, wild panther. One glance around the room reveals a dead girl near the doorway, her neck, arms, and legs broken with blood flowing freely from the wounds.
In less than a second his mouth is stretched wide, teeth sunk into the soft pale skin. The thick red liquid slides down his throat. It's better than he'd imagined after so many days, so many weeks of daydreaming. He can almost feel his eyes changing color, feel his muscles strengthen. And the fire in his chest is sated.
But although all the blood in the girl's body is gone, being processed by his system, he can still smell it. He raises his head and slowly turns around, and there is his answer. Jane has blood all over her. He inches toward her, his catlike gait on the verge of shifting into a crouch, and lowers his head to her hands. Tentatively, Jasper stretches forward and licks the blood off one finger.
Jane's tiny body shudders, and somewhere in his mind, Jasper remembers another woman who was just as small, whom he had loved. But there has never been any woman but Jane, hasn't there? All he knows is that Jane is so familiar all of a sudden, and he grabs her hand, standing up and staring into her eyes. Without breaking their gaze he raises her tiny palm to his mouth and draws his tongue across it, watching her face. She shivers and moans, and then he's at her lips, tasting the blood that's staining her lips and teeth.
It's passion stronger than he can remember feeling, and everything is extra-sensitive after the recent hunt. He can't stop himself now. After so long of not moving, not drinking, not touching, this is almost too much. He's lost in the sensation and he's rough, sliding his large hands up Jane's dark shirt and pressing her against himself. She deftly undoes the buttons on his bloodstained jeans and he slides her shirt off her head. She's not wearing a bra underneath -- he notices that she doesn't really need to -- and he's hungry, hungry for more. He pulls his own shirt off and then a few seconds later they're both completely naked, with him forcefully shoving her onto the bed. They kiss again, and it's more brutal than anything yet.
Jane giggles against his mouth, murmuring, "Alice would like this."
Alice.
A flood of memories barrage his consciousness. Alice, her tiny form so like Jane's. But her happy loving eyes, her soft touch -- not this vindictive creature in his arms at all, not even remotely the same. What has he done?
Alice, I'm coming for you.