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Post by Billy Ray Blackwell on May 13, 2012 18:21:13 GMT 1
The commotion that was caused then the alarm sounded was surreal to Billy Ray. He was dragged away and stuffed into a panic room for over two hours. He knew his Grandfather was awake but by the time he got out of his relatively safe location, his father was locked in the room with him. Yeah, it sounds creepy but the relationship between makers and their children is different from that of human families and Billy Ray understood that. In Billy’s mind, it was beautiful.
Billy was bore of waiting so he decided to get some sun. His vampire family seemed to like it when he smelled like sunshine. He took an old lawn chair and circled around the outside of Stoney’s. He would be in the sunlight for hours on this side of the building; that should help him soak up some sun while he was waiting. He also liked the idea of smelling like sunshine when he met his Grandfather.
He took off his t-shirt and lay there clad only in a pair of jeans and his boots; he never took those off unless he was behind a locked door. No, the intense beams of sunlight beat down on only his chest and arms. His face was covered by his white straw cowboy hat. He didn’t mean to do it. It wasn’t something he would normally do…he fell asleep under the fiery rays of the sun. Sometime during the day, his hat blew off his face.
If you toss a frog into boiling water, it will jump right out. If you put it in cold water and slowly bring it to a boil, you will have frog soup. That same concept was at work here. Billy Ray never knew he was in danger of making himself sick. Heat stroke came upon while he was sleeping and he never knew it. By the time the sun went down, he was red from face to waist and burning up with fever.
A cool breeze blew over him but be was still covered in pellets of salty sweat. His fever raged as he slept. He was totally oblivious to the touch of cool fingers on his cheek then on his neck, tracing the path of his jugular. He whimpered when nudged and tried to stir but he had no success. The evil chuckle followed by the hungry growl was not even enough to spur movement. It was not until the fangs sank viscously into his neck that he woke enough to lift his hand and open his eyes.
His efforts were of no use. He was weak and only half awake. “Pa…” he whimpered but there was no one to hear him. He felt the vampire digging at his clothing and felt himself pushed roughly to the side as his jeans were torn from his body. He knew what would happen next. Thankfully, he passed out before he had to endure it.
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Post by Marcel Chevalier on May 14, 2012 19:35:09 GMT 1
(Not quite sure what happened here - lol - the post just kept growing.... ) Marcel was awake at last but he was far from recovered. Whilst he did not believe himself quite as delicate as Hoyt feared, his child's terror that he would slip away back into his long sleep of death was not entirely without foundation. He frowned slightly at himself. Already he was feeling irritatingly hungry. Despite all the blood he had taken the previous night still he craved more. His mind kept drifting back to the taste of the angel blood on his tongue and he moaned softly at the memory. He was becoming more than a little concerned that the blood was in fact addictive above and beyond its obvious virtues. The archangel's blood had dragged him back to the conscious world and begun the process of his healing but his blood still moved sluggishly through his body and the vast reserves of endurance that accumulated to a vampire of his age had been severely depleted. Exerting his vampiric strength left him weak and lethargic, not to mention ravenously hungry and Hoyt would have had him remain bedridden as an invalid if Marcel had given him the option. He flexed the fingers of his hands again, still unhappy at the lingering weakness. He needed to move around more not less, to encourage his blood to resume its normal circulation. Even the sun pressed harder on him than it had in centuries. He had not woken much earlier than Hoyt tonight and although it would have taken the bed being on fire to have made him want to move from simply holding his golden child while he slept, it was another unwelcome indicator of his current infirmity. He shook his head as if he could shake away the unwanted thoughts. Fighting the sun would be a waste of his limited energy, right now he needed his rest. He had soothed Hoyt's anxieties tonight with a promise to wait a while before he rose and allow him time to personally check the bar's security, but Marcel had now bathed and dressed and still Hoyt had not returned. His vampiric senses seemed to have best recovered from his ordeal and if anything Marcel thought they had become more acute than ever whilst he had slept. He could hear the posse moving about, beginning their preparations to reopen the club. It was best if Hoyt got things quickly back to normal and Marcel would have the opportunity to observe the workings of world into which he had woken. In keeping with the theme of the club he had dressed in the same black vintage cowboy apparel as sported by Hoyt and his boys, complete with his authentic and fully functional six-shooter. He chuckled as he studied his reflection in the antique mirror. Two hundred years of the greatest changes mankind had ever faced ...and his last set of clothes would fit right in. Marcel could pass easily enough he thought for one of the posse until he was ready to make his presence known in New Vegas. His eyes were a little too pale but not inconceivably so if he did not deliberately catch anyone's stare. Of course Thor and King Drake had already been informed of his waking, a deception of that magnitude would be entirely unthinkable. With a last glance in the mirror he headed out of the secure room and towards the club and his sweet Hoyt... only to be intercepted by Hank. “Grandfather.” the big cowboy murmured respectfully with a bow of his head, “Pa said I was to wait for you.”Marcel smiled gently at the child, he couldn't think of any of them as anything else yet but children despite what Hoyt had told him of them. “Good evening Hank.” Marcel responded, his soft French accent a startling contrast to the robust cowboy's. “I find myself somewhat esurient. Where is your maker?” The young vampire looked confused a moment then mortified at his hesitation. “Pa went out, Grandfather. I... don't rightly understand what else you mean.” Marcel tried not to sigh because it would have been rude. It had taken Hoyt a little while to grow accustomed to his manner and these boys had not had the opportunity as yet. “I am hungry child.” he reiterated more simply. Hank looked as though he wanted to blush. “I will get you a slave right away, Grandfather.” and he hurried away. Marcel wandered over to the window. The shutters had been raised and the window opened slightly to let in the night air. What he wondered had been urgent enough to take Hoyt out so early? He had thought it was the security inside the building that Hoyt wanted to check. Marcel opened the window wider and breathed in the night air. The desert still smelled like the desert, some things it seemed never changed. He stood there just looking out at the world and listening to the sounds, some familiar, some not so familiar, some... Marcel's attention was caught by a soft whimper, weak and pained “Pa...” His eyes widened as panic caught at his heart Hoyt! Without thought he vaulted through the window and tore around the building, his movements faster than his thoughts and so far beyond the abilities of the children he left in his wake that they had not even time to panic before he was gone. What he saw as he rounded the bay of the building was the nightmare vision that had been his own personal version of hell as he had faded into his deathly sleep, Darius, tall and dark, the cruel laugh and flash of fang, looming over the beautiful boy with golden curls whom Marcel had been willing to die to defend. He screamed his horror as the nightmare replayed but where his memory had deceptively faded to black here fangs sank cruely into flesh and blood spilled... ”Non! Tu ne l'auras pas! Il est le mien!” Marcel roared, his fangs clicking out ready for murder. Fury flooded through him giving the world a red film as blood seeped into his pale eyes and he exerted his power as he had not done in two centuries. In less than a human heartbeat he crossed the intervening space and grasped the vampire's neck in his hand twisting it back with an audible crack whilst with his other hand he removed the lower jaw from both the boy's neck and its owners skull. Released from the bite, the naked boy began to slip from his assailants grasp. Marcel dropped the bloody jawbone and struck the vampire rapidly and repeatedly along the line of his spine shattering the bones to chalky splinters before discarding the broken vampire in time to catch the limp golden haired boy before he hit the ground. He lifted the boy in his arms like a babe and held him close murmuring softly to him in French as he had done long ago before. Time began again to run a more normal course as the posse came blurring from the building, fangs extended and guns at the ready, and Marcel suddenly realised that something here was very, very wrong. “Hoyt?” he murmured to the limp form in his arms. Things were becoming hazy to Marcel, he was having difficulty following the rapid non-French conversation going on amongst the posse as they hastily ushered him back inside the club. Billy Ray, he caught the name repeatedly in their murmurings. Who was Billy Ray? One who's name he could no longer recall tried to take the boy from him but was quelled from the attempt with a look. Only when he stumbled did he finally relinquish his charge. “Grandfather,” an insistent voice with an edge of fear penetrated Marcel's daze “Grandfather, the slave is here. Please Grandfather, feed...”
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Post by Billy Ray Blackwell on May 15, 2012 14:40:18 GMT 1
Rather than waking to what he knew would be the worst experience of his life, Billy Ray woke up to his attacker being dispatched violently. He thought it would be his father but the voice, the accent, they were wrong. He was suddenly in someone's arms, being comforted but the name they called him was "Hoyt". That was not his name, it was his fathers name.
Even as he was held, others were moving the person holding him inside. Oddly, even though he did not recognize the man, he felt safe and confident that he was under his protection. He could hear the voices of the posse, their concerns and sharp orders to club employees and blood slaves. He felt a cool hand on his face and recognized his periodic lovers voice murmuring in his ear that he would be alright, his attacker was dead and someone went to get his father, "Matthew," he choked out, "Who?" he stuggled to look at him. He noticed the fought back tinge of pink in the moist parts of his eyes and put his hand on his cheek, "I'm ok." He murmured just as the man carrying him stumbled.
He heard the posse begging "Grandfather" to feed. Had it been his grandfather who had saved him? He reached for the man as he stumbled from him. He didn't have much reach with the posse trying to stem the flow of blood from his neck but he felt a hand and gripped it. "Grandfather?" This was the man who his father valued above all others; the man whom he had the privilege of feeding for all these years and now he repaid the favor by saving him. "Thank you". He was overwhelmed with emotion which was too much for him in his weakened condition. He felt himself slipping into darkness. Once again Matthew was in his face. "Stay awake, Billy Ray. Don't fall asleep! Stay awake!" he felt a sharp slap on his cheek then felt a cool cheek on his, "I'm sorry partner, but I need to keep you awake." he heard Matthew's soft words. "I'm wake..." Billy Ray muttered.
He could hear Hank explaining to Marcel who Billy Ray was and insisting that he feed immediately then ordering Jimmy to go find Pa. "Don't come back without him or I'll stake you myself!" he growled.
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Post by Marcel Chevalier on May 16, 2012 10:59:52 GMT 1
Marcel sank into a chair that seemed to have magically appeared from nowhere behind him. Everything was moving too fast again and he was losing moments as the world began to flicker in freeze frames around him. He had never felt so tired since he was a small child and had rebelliously tried to wait up for the sun to rise. Panic finally crept up on him as he realised he was losing touch with his surroundings, his mind was drifting and his head slowly sinking lower towards sleep. “Hoyt...” he murmured again. He needed Hoyt, needed to feel him there at his side. A warm rough hand was suddenly squeezing his own and it startled him to open his eyes again. Somehow everything was going to be alright.
The warm hand slipped away but the scent of fresh human blood was being wafted in his face and his tongue flicked over his fangs hungrily as the terrified blood-slave was pushed forward. The recent commotions at Stoney's had all the blood-slaves on edge, the posse did not explain their recent flurry of activity to the likes of them. Marcel embraced the man gently, pulling him into his lap, one arm wrapped around his waist the other gently stroking his hair as he turned the slave's head to better expose his neck. The slave relaxed into Marcel's arms as he licked at the strong pulse, all fear washing away in Marcel's gentle calming presence.
Fangs sank into soft flesh and the rich, red liquid caressed the inside of his throat, spreading warmth back to his limbs. Marcel's vision immediately began to clear and the world became more solid once again. He continued to drink, the slave whimpering ecstatically as Marcel ran his hand lightly down the length of the man's lean body. The blood was taking the edge off of his hunger but not really sating it. He forced himself to pull back when he felt the first faltering beat of the slave's heart. The unsatisfactory feeding left him frustratingly aroused. That was the third? slave he had drained to exhaustion since he woke... he needed to pace himself more, the supply of blood slaves could not be infinite.
Marcel now felt uncomfortable and more than a little vulgar having in effect just fed with an audience. He preferred to take his time and coax an honest surrender from the objects of his desire and gentle though he had been, his feeding was crude and uncomely by Marcel's own standards. He was already embarrassed enough by the degree of weakness he had shown before these children. There was blood on his hands and shirt and he was feeling distinctly unkempt. The posse half carried the exhausted slave away to rest, and Marcel finally registered that Hank had been speaking to him and he had not taken in a word of what had been said.
He raised a hand to stem the flow of words and murmured softly, “Please Hank, I apologise but begin again.” This time Marcel was lucid and attentive, though his eyes were drawn mostly to watching the boy with the golden curls who despite initial impressions was most certainly not his Hoyt and was in fact human. Billy Ray, he now knew was the boy's name, Hoyt's adopted son, and it had been his warm hand that had kept Marcel awake. He was fascinated by the striking similarity the beautiful boy bore to Hoyt at the same age and his eyes left him only briefly as the posse dragged in the remains of the vampire Marcel had brutalized. He would count it dead only once it was ashes.
Marcel didn't quite manage to rise to his feet, he was pleased that the dizziness that had beset him had passed but the weakness had not. None the less he managed to move closer to Billy Ray, the posse moving aside to make way for him. Marcel smiled down at him and could not resist but ruffle his golden hair. “Good evening Billy Ray.”
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Post by matthewblack on May 16, 2012 14:22:10 GMT 1
Matthew was quite confused by all that was going on and was trying to realize what was happening. He only knew Billy Ray was hurt and wanted to hurt whoever had done it. Anger and concern wafted off of him in waves and he could only try to help stop the bleeding. Every instinct was in overdrive as he shown such a protectiveness over the man. He would kill whoever had done this. But underneath with the scent of blood his thirst was also rising but years of pushing it down was making it easier. He could wait if only Billy Ray was better. He wanted his Billy Ray up and moving.
He leaned down holding onto Billy Ray's hand gently. He'd get his gun, rope, and a couple knives. He would go hunting if no one had caught the man that had done this to his Billy Ray. His hands had once been clean of blood but now blood had been a necessary thing as was death. He didn't care one whit on who died as long as his family was safe. No one got by touching his family. The laid back man was furious. He leaned more in to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to catch whoever did this to you, Billy Ray. You just get better. No one hurts you and gets by with it."
He'd wait until Billy Ray was stable. His hand came to press against Billy Ray's chest gently. "You and I are right here always." He looked over as the rest of the posse brought in the vampire that had done this to his Billy Ray. "He's mine. Put him somewhere for the moment I will be seeing him shortly." He would torture him continuously and wait for him to bed for his own death. He gently continued to rub his cheek against Billy Ray's trying to give Billy Ray some comfort. Someone was getting Pa they would be back soon. Hopefully. His continued to watch Billy Ray and then looked over at Marcel. He whispered softly. "Thank you."
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Post by Hoyt 'Stoney' Blackwell on May 17, 2012 4:09:02 GMT 1
Hoyt left early in the evening to go find the archangel to see if he could persuade him to give him more of his blood, just this one last time. He just wanted to make sure that his Marcel stayed awake and could gain his strength back quickly. Every time he thought about Marcel slipping back into the sleep of the dead, he felt a panic wash over him like nothing he had ever felt before.
The archangel was nowhere to be found. That meant he had to find another angel and talk trade with him or her. It took him forever but he finally found an angel of healing in one of the churchyards. He agreed to give supplies to her and the group of angels she worked with to help mutants who were not under the care of the MPS. It took him almost an hour to retrieve the supplies then acquire the blood.
Just as he approached his club, he heard the commotion, smelled the blood. It was his son’s blood and he smelled Marcel’s scent outside as well. Where were they? What happened? He ran inside, nearly in a blind panic. Just then Jimmy came running out of nowhere, going on about something that had him very upset. Billy Ray attacked? Marcel, his savior but now looking very poorly? More panic insued as he followed the scent to his only living child, even if he were adopted, and his maker.
It was to his maker that he went first. “Mon amour! Mon cœur! Qui a fait cette chose pour vous? Oh, mon Dieu s'il vous plaît ne vous endormez pas!” His hands flew to Marcel’s cheeks and he stroked them softly, looking him in the eyes, “No sleeping, please.” He begged. It was then that he remembered the vials of angel blood in his pocket. He pulled out two and popped the topper off of one. He pressed the vial to Marcel’s lips, “Drink…” he murmured as he tipped it against Marcel’s lips. Each vial was no more than a mouthful but the angel told him that he needs to space it out for the blood to give him the full benefit, for she was an angel of healing and had poured her essence into it because she was able to see how much love Hoyt had in his heart for the man. He handed the other vial to Hank, “Give him a minute then help him with this.”
Now his attention moved to his son. “Billy Ray.” He said softly and smoothed his blood smeared hair away from his face. “I’m here Billy Ray.” He looked over the wound that had been hastily bandaged. It was still bleeding. “Looks like the artery aint sealing right.” He looked up at Jimmy. “Get that empty vial and smell it. Then follow my trail back to the lady I got it from. You be as polite as possible. Tell her I got 10,000 credits with her name on it if she comes to help my boy. Now GO!” he ordered urgently. Jimmy was off in a flash. Hoyt was always impressed at how that boy could run. Must have been the Native American in him.
Now that he was to both of his family members, with hands shaking he looked up at the rest of his posse. “Who did this…tell me you caught him so we can string him up for the Sun.” he demanded. “And I don’t mean outside. I mean in a box with bullet holes in it so it takes all day from one side of him to the other, from sun up to sun down.” He looked down at his son who could still very well die before the angel arrived to heal him, “I promised you Billy Ray, iffin anyone ever laid a finger on one hair on your head, I’d kill him.” He reaffirmed his promise, “And you are going to live to watch it happen.” He moved to kiss Marcel on the forehead. “J’taime. Merci.” He whispered softly. Then his gaze when to Matthew, knowing he must be feeling real anger. "Matthew, get a rope, make it silver." he said in a quiet, menacing voice. "And we leave the VSF outta this one."
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Post by Billy Ray Blackwell on May 24, 2012 11:08:36 GMT 1
Billy Ray was not quite sure what was happening right then. He knew he was attacked but not by whom. He knew the attack had not been completed in the downstairs department, which he was very grateful for. His clothing had been ripped from his body leaving bruises and cuts from the tough denim fabric of his jeans cutting into his skin. His skin was badly sunburned and his lips were cracked and swollen. The wound in his neck hurt like a mother fucker and moving caused agonizing muscle cramps rippling through his body. He was still burning up from fever and very badly dehydrated. It might have been a good thing since it made his blood thicker and didnt bleed as fast but then again it was concentrated too so a little was more than it seemed.
He looked up at his Pa and at his "grandfather" which could lift an eyebrow for some since Marcel was his Pa's lover, not really his father but then again he was his maker. It was complicated for most humans but Billy Ray understood it. Society for Vampires was different than society for humans. Billy Ray had been raised in the Vampire societly, however sequestered they were from the rest. His life had been surrounded by vampire tradition, mixed in the a taste of the old west. Come to think of it, the old west was not much different than life was now.
He coughed and blood flew out of his mouth, splattering those who were close by. It was an indication that his trachea had been punctured and blood was leading down his throat. "S..sorry..." he whimpered when he got control over his breathing only to cough again. He gripped the closest hand he could reach and also reached for Matt, "Can't...breath." he rasped and began a fresh coughing fit that turned his face dark red. He finally got his breath back and looked at Stoney and Marcel with anguised eyes. "Am I gonna die, Pa?" his voice sounded small, like when he was a child.
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Post by Marcel Chevalier on May 29, 2012 2:12:44 GMT 1
Marcel recognised only vaguely the young cowboy vampire who crooned gently over Billy Ray, but he recognised the look that he saw in his eyes. This one cared for the human boy, perhaps not as much as he had cared for his beloved Hoyt, but he certainly cared a great deal. Matthew? Yes, that was his name if he recalled correctly from their very brief introduction. Marcel gave Matthew a brief nod, he had not acted on his behalf when he had rescued the boy but it would be ungentlemanly to fail to acknowledge the offered gesture of thanks.
Marcel's look of total relief as Hoyt came hurtling almost blindly into the club was uncharacteristically blatant. Though he had fed some on the human slave he still felt fragile and emotionally raw. He did not know these frantic children and in his weakened state he found himself immensely agitated to be surrounded by strangers. Had he trusted himself to be alone right now he would have demanded that they help him retire again to the reassuring comfort of his chambers but having once felt the lure of sleep he did not dare to distance himself before Hoyt returned.
Hoyt's vibrant presence was a balm to his soul. His rich voice, speaking to him again in French was a beautiful thing and Marcel could not help but smile for him as he shook his head a little in response. “Je ne retournerai pas pour dormir, mon beau enfant. J'ai promis.” It was a promise Marcel was fighting hard to keep. When Hoyt produced a pair of small vials from his pocket and popped the top from one, Marcel immediately scented what was within. He wanted to object, had he not been concerned only moments ago that such divine nectar was addictive?
Regardless or oblivious of Marcel's chaotic thoughts Hoyt pressed the vial to his lips and his body betrayed any hesitation he felt as he swallowed down the liquid light and love that was the essence of angelic blood. There was a gentleness to the wave of energy and pleasure that flowed through Marcel as he drank, a very different energy to the roaring, vibrant force that had overwhelmed him from the blood with which Hoyt had woken him. He could taste a delicate feminine touch, soothing and healing, as comforting as being held in his mother's arms.
Before Marcel had properly recovered his senses Hoyt had moved to check on the human boy. Marcel's hand had slipped away from the boy's golden curls as he had greeted Hoyt and the angel blood flooding through his system still had him more than a little light headed. Hank had the second vial unstopped and was offering it to him, a little less insistently than Hoyt but still with a set determination to do as his Pa had instructed. The pull of such powerful blood to one so young must have been a temptation verging on painful, but the child was a credit to Hoyt and his bloodline, and he determinedly pressed the contents of the vial on his 'Grandfather'.
Marcel drank again, his body greedy for the energy that the tiny vials of blood provided. He could worry about addictions later, right now his body knew that this was what he needed. Any fear of consequences was dwarfed by the horrific alternative possibility of lapsing again into a deathly sleep that would claim not only his life but Hoyt's also. A second wave of love washed over him and it seemed to Marcel as though he could almost feel the sun upon his skin as a warm and loving embrace rather than the deathly fire that was all he had ever known.
His head was clearing some as Hoyt kissed his forehead and he heard clearly his child's angry and murderous orders. Marcel mustered his concentration and focus to take a firm hold of Hoyt's forearm. “Mon enfant...” he murmured. “Quelle est la loi ? À l'irrespect la loi du roi est à l'irrespect le roi.” Marcel could not believe that to punish this villein however he saw fit was not within his rights but... he had slept long and he must be certain that the propitiatory rites were observed in this vengeance. “Conformément à la loi, est-ce que la vengeance est la mienne?”
Marcel only tightened his grip on Hoyt's arm as the boy coughed blood and whimpered his childlike entreaty. If the boy died... well Marcel would not lose Hoyt to the ill-thought actions of some grief stricken rage. There would be revenge, but Marcel would ensure that they both lived to savour it.
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Post by matthewblack on Jun 6, 2012 14:16:15 GMT 1
Matthew watched as Hoyt came in. He could really lose Billy Ray and the pain he felt at that thought was real. It made him ache that he couldn't do anything for him. He could do something but he was in a real bind and wasn't sure how Stoney would react to it. His own son a vampire. But he'd talk with Billy Ray when he was all better and see what he had to say. This was too close a call for him to be kept as a human for Matthew's taste. He leaned down more as Billy Ray reached for him.
"Shh... Love, rest. No need for apologizing." The scent of Billy Ray's blood was intoxicating but it was his love and he was furious and worried. The emotions colliding so much that he wanted to howl at the injustice of it all. He gently kissed Billy Ray on the lips before looking at Stoney as he spoke to him. He gave a nod as his eyes shown with a cold light. He looked down then at Billy Ray. "Trust your Pa. I will be back in a bit." He didn't want to leave Billy Ray but knew he had to. He gave him a kiss on the cheek then.
"Promise you'll wait for me, Billy Ray?" He was asking him to hold off on dying to fight it for him. "Because my heart will be gone the second you don't." He gently ran a hand through Billy Ray's hair. "I'll be back, my love." And then he straightens and looks over at Stoney for a moment. "When he's well you should give him the choice." He spoke respectfully but with a quiver in his tone. He moved to the vampire the posse held in their grasp. His family this posse.
He began to whisper. "You truly thought you'd get away? What a joke you are. Think of us as Ol' Red. Trackers. But you should be glad that they caught you first because if I had... I'd be out all night have a high ol' time. But Stoney and I be playing with you the most tonight. Just think... No VSF to protect you. We protect our own." He looked at Stoney. "Just the way I like it. No VSF taking the pleasure away." With that he moved to go get the silver rope. He went down into the cellars and then further to the back there was a room built underground where they stored the 'toys'.
He slipped on a pair of black gloves that he kept in his pocket to protect his hands even if he didn't need to but he preferred to wear them when fist fighting. He began moving the ropes around and finally lifted one. He picked it up and was careful to put it over his jacket to protect his skin. He moved back to the room. "I think we should wait until he's in the box to shoot holes in it. Use regular bullets, Stoney. Teach him a mighty fine lesson to just play with him unless that was your intent all along."
He looked back at the vampire the posse held. "If you haven't figured it out... I'm that one's lover in every sense of the word and to make it plain and clear I'm pissed and that be putting it mildly." His words held an edge of fury but they sounded so smooth almost loving with the voice that made so many want him to speak to them forever.
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Post by Hoyt 'Stoney' Blackwell on Jun 17, 2012 13:13:07 GMT 1
Hoyt was thoroughly concerned about Billy Ray. Whilst he did not want the boy to be turned into a vampire, he knew he could not stand to have his son die. Even if he wasn't his son by blood, it was as if fate had given him the child. He even looked like him enough that people actually thought they were blood kin. Maybe they were but generations apart. That didn't matter, he loved him like his own son and he would do anything for him. "If he wants it, Matt, he knows that. Now that Marcel is awake and a pureblood can turn him...if he survives." he said quietly and stroked Billy Ray's hair, "Shhh now, don't try to talk, the angel is on her way, I know she can help you."
Hoyt turned to Marcel and half grinned. "There is only my law here. I have the same priveleges as the council does because you are my ward. I am your protector and provider. Even now as you convelesce. Drake bestowed authority on me to do what I need to do to keep you safe and that includes protecting my posse. You might call me his Marshall." he explained. "This is cowboy justice here and I am legally in my rights to do this." he put his hand on Marcel's shoulder. "I've grown up and I am still a lawman. I will deal out the justice this man deserves, the way of the west, not only is it my right, it is my duty."
He looked up as the door opened and the angel rushed in with Jimmy. She didn't ask questions, just went directly to healing the wound after pushing everyone out of the way. Hoyt looked at his son with sad eyes, "If he doesn't make it, that vampires death will be prolonged. He will beg for death many times before I let him die. No one, and I mean no one hurts my family."
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Post by Billy Ray Blackwell on Jun 26, 2012 8:45:19 GMT 1
Billy Ray listened to the interractions going on around him. His mind was clouded by pain and bloodloss. He was very grateful to Marcel for saving him. He was slightly embarassed that his clothing had been torn off but he had been raised by vampires who nakedness was not something to be ashamed of so he did not attempt to cover himself. He didn't want Matthew to move away but he knew he had to. He took comfort in the proximity of his father and Marcel. They were his family and he knew he father cared deeply for him.
Billy Ray often thought about being turned into a vampire. He had argued with his father when he was a teen about being turned back then. It was only when his father told him if he still wanted to be turned when he was 25, he would allow it but only if he could find a pureblood to do it. His father wanted him to be strong and he wanted to be sure he would survive the process. He understood that and accepted his father's terms. Now that he had Matthew, he didn't want to lose him and he couldn't bear the thought of Matthew going through the pain of losing him. He wondered if now would be the time to be turned. But could it be Marcel with the old vampire still recovering from his long sleep of the dead?
He was startled by the angel who came to him. He looked up at her with pained eyes and saw nothing but care, love, and concern in her eyes. She meant him no harm. He coughed blood again as she laid her hands on him. A cooling, soothing tough eased the burning sting of the bite and he soon found that the pain was leaving him. He felt weak but he no longer felt like he was going to die. Soon his body stopped trembling from the shock of the ordeal and without warning he drifted off to sleep. As he drifted off, he vaguely heard the angel tell his family that he would sleep now and that was the best thing for him.
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Post by Marcel Chevalier on Jun 28, 2012 2:17:06 GMT 1
Marcel gave Hoyt a small chagrined smile. He felt a little embarrassed now to have raised the question at all. Of course Hoyt knew what he was doing. His stubborn sense of will and of right and wrong were as much a part of him as his blonde curls and boyish smile. That he had so swiftly and resoundingly earned Drake's trust was a source of great pride to Marcel. He placed his hand atop of Hoyt's where it rested on his shoulder and looked up into Hoyt's half smiling face. “Do not let me hinder you in your duty... Marshall Blackwell.” he chuckled softly.
He squeezed Hoyt's hand gently, he had to try and stop worrying quite so much about Hoyt. It seemed to Marcel only days ago that he had been teaching Hoyt the ways of their kind... and now it was Hoyt who was teaching him. Of all the things Marcel needed to adjust to in this world it was the idea that Hoyt had 'grown up' without him that was proving hardest to deal with. His long sleep had robbed him of something precious and he fought the urge to mourn for it, but he had already resolved to waste not one fleeting moment of the present in regret for the past that he had missed.
Marcel turned his eyes back to the whimpering boy and the franticly working angel. He was not certain at this moment which he found the more enthralling phenomenon. Silently he prayed for Billy Ray to survive his ordeal. He very much wanted to get to know Hoyt's young human son better. He still sensed the connection that had so confused him when he had believed the boy to be Hoyt. He was sure now that he had been fed the boy's blood whilst he slept and he mused on who else drank from the boy... Matthew most certainly.
Matthew was far too eager to turn Billy Ray for Marcel's tastes. He had himself held off from claiming Hoyt as his child until the young sheriff had lain dying in his arms. Hoyt had been human and deserved to live a human life. Marcel had never been human, and strangely that seemed to make him all the more aware of the value that short span held for them. So many of these young turned vampires too swiftly forgot just how tenaciously they had clung to that life themselves.
His thoughts dwelling on young vampires, he looked over at the captive villein at which Matthew was hissing malevolently. It would have been hard for anyone to meet his gaze at that moment given the withering look of utter contempt that flashed from his pale icy eyes and radiated from him cold as ice, cutting to the heart like wind chill. His thoughts aimed at the distasteful get were equally desolate. No better than a rabid animal.
The angel however drew his focus once again as Billy Ray lapsed into a peaceful slumber. She truly was a riveting creature, he had never seen the like of such before. The angel blood coursing through his system was having the strangest effects on him. It brought him an influx of strength and vitality but also it raised his wants and desires in a manner approaching painful. But most frighteningly it drew him with a sharp and desperate pull toward the angel herself. A hunger was rising in him that was demanding more of the sweet angelic nectar.
Marcel gasped softly, ashamed of his lack of control or restraint but struggling to resist the call of the blood. Before he knew what he was doing he was stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her blood as it pulsed beneath her skin. Though the angel was female he found himself as aroused as if she were a vampire in heat. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, then swallowing hard he whispered to her “You need to leave now. With some alacrity... please...”
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Post by matthewblack on Aug 1, 2012 2:51:41 GMT 1
It ripped Matthew apart inside thinking of Billy Ray dying, and Hoyt's words had been heeded. He had every intention of taking the rope to the heathen who had attacked his Billy Ray. Looking at the vampire the posse held rage filled up inside of him. If Billy Ray didn't survive... well Matthew didn't want to think of that right now he couldn't it was too much. The rope shifted against his coat as he slipped it down from his shoulder careful with the gloves to keep his hands protected. Even though inside he was a raging ball of fury, he kept his words calm and collected with that smooth voice. "I'm going to enjoy this. Every single minute of it til I hear you scream for your death." Jerking the rope with a tight tinge of the silver he started to move forward so he could bind up the vampire the posse held.
Glancing to Hoyt then as he finished up the binding of the rope to the vampire. The smell of his burning flesh and the hissing of the vampire had Matthew's smile that boyish good-looking smile in pleasure. Turning to the door as the Angel entered he had watched on in anticipation of her words. Once seeing and hearing that Billy Ray was healed, he felt happy but, still worried and scared. This had been to close a lot of it had been to close, and it was time for Stoney to either let the decision be made by Billy Ray or to make it himself. Then again, perhaps he was being hasty. He would hate to take the chance for Billy Ray to lay in the sun and feel his warmth again, but he would always love him.
As he twisted another knot of the rope about the vampire's wrists, he gave it a jerk watching as a bit of flesh and hearing a howl of pain came from the vampire that had attacked Billy Ray. So many thoughts ran through Matthew's mind he couldn't help but wish he could flay the other vamp. Pick his flesh from his bones with precision and silver knives then let him sizzle in the sun like a side of bacon in a pan. Until he was nothing more than ash.
As he watched Billy Ray slip off into sleep, he looked to the angel. She would see the love and care, he had for Billy Ray in his eyes. " Thank you, Thank you so much for your help." A genuine heartfelt appreciation of the angelic being before him. He would forever owe her a debt he felt. For what she did for his Billy Ray. Turning his attention to Hoyt and Marcel, he waited to see what Hoyt would want to do next. The Family didn't let anyone mess with them, and this time was going to be no different.
In a blink, Matthew saw Marcel appear behind the Angel rather hastily. It caused him to become worried for the angels safety. Marcel seemed a little off in the moment, and it caused an arch of brow and curious look to form on Matthew's features. Glancing to Hoyt then he spoke. " Ready when you are Pa. "
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Post by Hoyt 'Stoney' Blackwell on Aug 5, 2012 17:53:37 GMT 1
Hoyt watched as his son succumbed to peaceful slumber and breathed a sigh of relief. To Hoyt, Billy Ray still looked like a child when he slept; the brave little boy who fired on an entire posse with a gun that broke his arm. His bravery was unmatched in Hoyt’s eyes. Billy Ray never, ever backed down from a fight, even if his opponent was 10 feet tall and bulletproof. That was one of the reasons to keep him close at all times. It were these thoughts that caused his guard to drop.
He should have known better than to take his eyes off of the angel for even a moment with a half starved recovering Vampire whose body was coursing with angels blood in the room, especially one so elegantly ancient as his lover. With great care he moved with blinding speed and moved his body between Marcel and the angel. He spoke soft words of love. One hand cupped Marcel’s cheek and the other took Marcel’s hand off the angel. “That’s right, she did good and that’s why Jimmy is gonna take her home with a pocket full of credits.” He cooed softly, “Ain’t that right?” he leaned in and kissed his cheek, then his lips, striving to take the elder Vampire’s gaze off the angel.
With stealthy precision, he distanced the other Vampire from the angel and was highly aware of the Angel being ushered away. Hoyt kept his nose nearly touching Marcel’s, maintaining eye contact. “I love you Marcel.” He murmured than kissed him in a way that would cause him to never doubt it. By the time he pulled away, the angel was gone. He never let go of Marcel but he turned to the others. “String him up in one of the outhouses.” He commanded and watched as his posse made haste to do as he ordered, ever the obedient sons. “Matthew, you string him up. The rest of you get your pistols loaded with silver.” Hoyt glanced down at his own side arm on his hip, ever loaded with silver bullets at any given time.
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Post by Marcel Chevalier on Aug 6, 2012 16:37:26 GMT 1
For one agonisingly long heartbeat that seemed to last an age, Marcel had eyes only for the pulsing flow of blood that moved beneath the skin of the angel's pale and perfect neck. Though all his sensibilities screamed in protest he could not pull away from her. His fangs were already extended, he need only bite and the heavenly ambrosia, fresh and warm from the source, would be his once again. The tiny voice in the back of his mind that cried out all the reasons that he would not, could not, should not do this was being gradually drowned out by the roaring of his hunger.
“Hoyt...†Marcel gasped softly as his child appeared before him, his soothing words of love a balm to Marcel's anxieties and the caress of Hoyt's hand to his cheek was rough and very real. He did not notice Hoyt moving his hand away from the angel, so engrossed he was in the gentle kisses that Hoyt pressed upon him though his eyes still attempted to linger on her retreating form. “She should go...†he murmured, seeming somewhat dazed and his voice still sounding strained, “...home?â€
Hoyt however had now turned him deftly away, breaking his line of sight to the angel and he shivered a little as the intoxicating spell broke. Marcel could still feel the pull of the angel's blood, the scent of her, the sound of her beating heart and it was taking a great deal on his part not to answer that call. His pale eyes locked on Hoyt's revealing the naked depths of his inner struggle to maintain control, sharing his need and his hunger with his beloved child, the lover he could trust with anything. Hoyt's passionate kiss was a gulp of air to Marcel's drowning senses and it drew him back from the mental precipice on which he had teetered.
Marcel shuddered once in relief as he felt the angel's presence had gone from the club. The restrained tension slid from his limbs and he relaxed somewhat against Hoyt's shoulder kissing his neck softly. Neither his hunger nor his frustration had much abated but with the angel gone he was once again in control of himself. “No more Hoyt.†he whispered into his ear, too softly for any but his lover to hear. “No more angel blood. The temptation... it is too much.†It was not that Marcel was ungrateful for the gift but if tonight was any indicator he would rapidly become a danger to his child if he could not free himself of this addiction.
A wan smile for his child crept onto his lips, an attempt to reassure him that he was indeed himself again, though he made no attempt to disentangle himself from Hoyt's arms. What Marcel really wanted right then was to drag Hoyt back to his bed and make love all night. That sadly however was not going to happen; he was not a slave to his desires however unbalanced he currently felt. Hoyt must deal with his business now, met out justice and care for his son. Once that was done, Marcel would retire again and clean the blood from his hands and clothes, he could take care of his most urgent needs then himself.
“Do what needs to be done Hoyt.†he said softly. “I too would very much like to see justice be done.†Marcel stayed very close to Hoyt, continuing to touch him and drawing stability from his solid presence. Perhaps he should take another slave with him when he retired for a while? he mused absently. He needed to deal wth his hungers or he would not be safe to be in the club later tonight.
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