Remember Me (PAGE TWO) (Work In Progress)
(back to page 1: http://luv-bowie-luver.livejournal.com/55161.html)
***
Unfinished. Unedited. Rough Draft.
***
UPDATED: February 14th, 2015, 10.11AM (my time)
***
Fuck. John’s senses were overwhelmed by even the faintest scents of blood and the sight of it, drew him close to snapping out his fangs, if it wasn’t for his major self-discipline when he was in the line of battle some time before. He’d witnessed soldiers dropping like flies around him, blood everywhere, it was a gorey place but in John’s eyes, he’d always thought of it as home and as heaven. He was constantly around different delicious scents back then, but he’d pulled himself away from it when one day it became too much to keep his snapping beak away. He’d witnessed a soldier shot in the chest, and he’d been the only one around to bandage him up and.. well. His kind wasn’t fit for the medic role, not somebody as greedy and wildly untamed as himself, he was only young in his culture, they lived for tallied centuries, John was a mere baby, and all babies were still in need of a good lesson or two.
“Grrrr..” John growled quietly as he’d left and was out of earshot of the soaking Jack, finally. Whenever he grew excited or got close enough to blood, he had the involuntary urge to growl his content, he growled as communication a lot, growled his words sometimes. Jack’d get used to it quickly he hoped, John wasn’t just the average soldier, Jack had already worked that one out by now though. John shivered and placed the torn rags once perfect clothes, in the fireplace, on top of the sizzling and crackling fire he’d had going to keep his place warm in the winter months. John could survive either way, he loved cold when he needed to be focused and less excitable, heat when he wanted to be cosy, relaxed and excitable. With all the women coming and going, he’d maintained a good temperature for the place to remain, it’d come across fishy if they walked into a literal freezer, being able to see their own breath, because no average human could live in those conditions.
“Ah..” Jack hissed, the wounds were opening up with the exposure to water, but hopefully getting the muck out of them was the first step to the healing process. The tub was large enough, big enough to incorporate him and a few others, however it was just fit for one, starfish posed, soldier. John was a burly muscular man, he needed the room so he’d fitted the biggest of bath tubs for relaxation time of his own.
John came to inspect the area where Jack had been eating, he’d left a messy bowl, an untouched spoon and little dribbles of soup down the table and seat. He frowned, the man was obviously very hungry at the time, John had to understand, he liked to tear his victims sometimes, when he was particularly famished. Getting a wet cloth, he wiped down the seat and mess, taking the empty bowl and dumping it in the sink to be cleaned. John put the clean unused spoon back in the drawer and inspected the saucepan, placing that in the sink too.
The water grew a murkier colour than it’s crystal clear origin, the muck and mud on Jack dispersed into the water and he looked down, he couldn’t even see through it by time he’d scrubbed himself off and tried to relax back again. He soaped himself down everywhere apart from the wounded areas and got out of the bath sometime later, taking a clean towel and drying himself off.
“You’re a messy soldier.” John was in the doorway suddenly, he made Jack jump and spin around, stood in a ‘at the ready’ stance before he relaxed to see John.
“They didn’t have baths in the camp..” Jack frowned peculiarly, this was their first actual conversation since the escape.
John came into the bathroom slowly and went through his medical cabinet, pulling out a roll of bandage material and some rubbing alcohol. “I’ll look at those wounds for you, fingers crossed they aren’t infected already.”
Jack only ducked his head to dry his hair for a few moments and John had vanished, into his bedroom, sat down with a fresh pile of his own clothes for Jack, waiting. John had seen his fair share of males in the nude around too. He’d been in conditions where they were forced to pry privacy and just be carefree about their bodies, despite the bruises and wounds, scars and battle marks. John wasn’t self-conscious about his body particularly, he had a good shape. It was his fangs he was always conscious about, they had a mind of their own, they could just appear, whenever, at any point, when he really didn’t want them to. They crashed the party on many occasions, lost him friends and partners, everyone thought them disgusting and defiant to nature, which they were but poor John could not help his own nature.
Jack came into the bedroom and sat down on the bed before John, wearing the pair of boxers John had left him there at least. John got the small cotton pad and rubbing alcohol and soaked the material in the liquid, “This is going to sting.” He dabbed at the wounds and got the expected hissing and groaning reaction out of Jack, but he needed to sterilise the wounds before they got any worse. “Almost done.” John told him, talking him through it with a few friendly words thrown in to deter Jack from focusing on just the pain of it. John wrapped the bandage around the wounds on his back by using his chest and tied it all together with a safety pin, that was the best he had to do with so he made do with what he had and patched the soldier up. John used a lot of strength and determination to face the bloody wounds so close up, his fangs had grown but Jack could not see them from his angle. He felt bad for wanting to feast upon this man he’d allowed to take refuge in his home but then that was the first thought he had about everybody, he had some selfish desires.
“How did you end up in such a place?” John asked curiously now, placing the medical bits and bobs aside.
****
(to be continued... )
***
Unfinished. Unedited. Rough Draft.
***
UPDATED: February 14th, 2015, 10.11AM (my time)
***
Fuck. John’s senses were overwhelmed by even the faintest scents of blood and the sight of it, drew him close to snapping out his fangs, if it wasn’t for his major self-discipline when he was in the line of battle some time before. He’d witnessed soldiers dropping like flies around him, blood everywhere, it was a gorey place but in John’s eyes, he’d always thought of it as home and as heaven. He was constantly around different delicious scents back then, but he’d pulled himself away from it when one day it became too much to keep his snapping beak away. He’d witnessed a soldier shot in the chest, and he’d been the only one around to bandage him up and.. well. His kind wasn’t fit for the medic role, not somebody as greedy and wildly untamed as himself, he was only young in his culture, they lived for tallied centuries, John was a mere baby, and all babies were still in need of a good lesson or two.
“Grrrr..” John growled quietly as he’d left and was out of earshot of the soaking Jack, finally. Whenever he grew excited or got close enough to blood, he had the involuntary urge to growl his content, he growled as communication a lot, growled his words sometimes. Jack’d get used to it quickly he hoped, John wasn’t just the average soldier, Jack had already worked that one out by now though. John shivered and placed the torn rags once perfect clothes, in the fireplace, on top of the sizzling and crackling fire he’d had going to keep his place warm in the winter months. John could survive either way, he loved cold when he needed to be focused and less excitable, heat when he wanted to be cosy, relaxed and excitable. With all the women coming and going, he’d maintained a good temperature for the place to remain, it’d come across fishy if they walked into a literal freezer, being able to see their own breath, because no average human could live in those conditions.
“Ah..” Jack hissed, the wounds were opening up with the exposure to water, but hopefully getting the muck out of them was the first step to the healing process. The tub was large enough, big enough to incorporate him and a few others, however it was just fit for one, starfish posed, soldier. John was a burly muscular man, he needed the room so he’d fitted the biggest of bath tubs for relaxation time of his own.
John came to inspect the area where Jack had been eating, he’d left a messy bowl, an untouched spoon and little dribbles of soup down the table and seat. He frowned, the man was obviously very hungry at the time, John had to understand, he liked to tear his victims sometimes, when he was particularly famished. Getting a wet cloth, he wiped down the seat and mess, taking the empty bowl and dumping it in the sink to be cleaned. John put the clean unused spoon back in the drawer and inspected the saucepan, placing that in the sink too.
The water grew a murkier colour than it’s crystal clear origin, the muck and mud on Jack dispersed into the water and he looked down, he couldn’t even see through it by time he’d scrubbed himself off and tried to relax back again. He soaped himself down everywhere apart from the wounded areas and got out of the bath sometime later, taking a clean towel and drying himself off.
“You’re a messy soldier.” John was in the doorway suddenly, he made Jack jump and spin around, stood in a ‘at the ready’ stance before he relaxed to see John.
“They didn’t have baths in the camp..” Jack frowned peculiarly, this was their first actual conversation since the escape.
John came into the bathroom slowly and went through his medical cabinet, pulling out a roll of bandage material and some rubbing alcohol. “I’ll look at those wounds for you, fingers crossed they aren’t infected already.”
Jack only ducked his head to dry his hair for a few moments and John had vanished, into his bedroom, sat down with a fresh pile of his own clothes for Jack, waiting. John had seen his fair share of males in the nude around too. He’d been in conditions where they were forced to pry privacy and just be carefree about their bodies, despite the bruises and wounds, scars and battle marks. John wasn’t self-conscious about his body particularly, he had a good shape. It was his fangs he was always conscious about, they had a mind of their own, they could just appear, whenever, at any point, when he really didn’t want them to. They crashed the party on many occasions, lost him friends and partners, everyone thought them disgusting and defiant to nature, which they were but poor John could not help his own nature.
Jack came into the bedroom and sat down on the bed before John, wearing the pair of boxers John had left him there at least. John got the small cotton pad and rubbing alcohol and soaked the material in the liquid, “This is going to sting.” He dabbed at the wounds and got the expected hissing and groaning reaction out of Jack, but he needed to sterilise the wounds before they got any worse. “Almost done.” John told him, talking him through it with a few friendly words thrown in to deter Jack from focusing on just the pain of it. John wrapped the bandage around the wounds on his back by using his chest and tied it all together with a safety pin, that was the best he had to do with so he made do with what he had and patched the soldier up. John used a lot of strength and determination to face the bloody wounds so close up, his fangs had grown but Jack could not see them from his angle. He felt bad for wanting to feast upon this man he’d allowed to take refuge in his home but then that was the first thought he had about everybody, he had some selfish desires.
“How did you end up in such a place?” John asked curiously now, placing the medical bits and bobs aside.
****
(to be continued... )