Post by Ol' Gillespie on Jun 3, 2012 13:24:47 GMT -5
Roger and Gillespie had agreed on little since they began to be aware of each other. But on one thing they could absolutely agree.
They were mad.
Bonkers.
Psychotic, even.
When he'd been a shadow, his nickname had been 'the Lunatic', after all. Still, they remembered a time shortly before their death when they'd worked together, and it hadn't turned out so bad. When the Shadow Society had been splintered after the Shadow War, they had tried to claim the position left vacant by the missing Scorpius. Not as leader of the Society, because that would have been presumptuous, but as local scourge and terror. They hadn't succeeded, but they hadn't ever been captured either.
So, now that His Highness Prince RomulusFussypants had disappeared, Gillespie thought that maybe they could do some good as the new head of the vampires. At least, they thought their was a chance they might be better than letting the vampires scatter and be like an undead anarchy or something.
So on this night they got dressed. Gillespie let Roger pretty them up, since the other vampires seemed to like pretty boys for their leader, and also because otherwise, he'd have just shown up all bloodstained and disheveled from their last kill.
Hmm...wait a moment.
"No, Gillespie, we are not going in front of everyone all covered in mortal blood just because you think it'd impress everyone."
"Why not. It'll show them that were aren't these new kind of namby pamby vampires that like, fall in love with human juiceboxes instead of just getting on with it."
"The smell of blood will distract them.'
"You're bringing enough fresh bodies to distract them anyway."
It was true enough; Gillespie had drugged about a dozen muggles and was going to present them as a feast to anyone who agreed to follow them.
"You don't want them confusing you for a juicebox, do you? Besides, dried blood is so...unsanitary."
Gillespie suppressed a shudder at the thought of the microbes that would be in dried blood. "Fine, fine, whatever. Let's just drop it. Just don't make us look like a girl."
In few minutes, they were dressed in a sharp suit they'd stolen from one of their victims, their hair was pulled back from their face in a short ponytail, and they lead the muggles into what might have once been a ballroom in the castille, before the place had been taken over by vampires.
To attract his fellows, he slit the wrist of one of the humans, and smeared the blood on the doorways into the room, taking care not to get a drop on his clean, white, cotton gloves.
((OOC: Vampires, yo, let's go.))
They were mad.
Bonkers.
Psychotic, even.
When he'd been a shadow, his nickname had been 'the Lunatic', after all. Still, they remembered a time shortly before their death when they'd worked together, and it hadn't turned out so bad. When the Shadow Society had been splintered after the Shadow War, they had tried to claim the position left vacant by the missing Scorpius. Not as leader of the Society, because that would have been presumptuous, but as local scourge and terror. They hadn't succeeded, but they hadn't ever been captured either.
So, now that His Highness Prince Romulus
So on this night they got dressed. Gillespie let Roger pretty them up, since the other vampires seemed to like pretty boys for their leader, and also because otherwise, he'd have just shown up all bloodstained and disheveled from their last kill.
Hmm...wait a moment.
"No, Gillespie, we are not going in front of everyone all covered in mortal blood just because you think it'd impress everyone."
"Why not. It'll show them that were aren't these new kind of namby pamby vampires that like, fall in love with human juiceboxes instead of just getting on with it."
"The smell of blood will distract them.'
"You're bringing enough fresh bodies to distract them anyway."
It was true enough; Gillespie had drugged about a dozen muggles and was going to present them as a feast to anyone who agreed to follow them.
"You don't want them confusing you for a juicebox, do you? Besides, dried blood is so...unsanitary."
Gillespie suppressed a shudder at the thought of the microbes that would be in dried blood. "Fine, fine, whatever. Let's just drop it. Just don't make us look like a girl."
In few minutes, they were dressed in a sharp suit they'd stolen from one of their victims, their hair was pulled back from their face in a short ponytail, and they lead the muggles into what might have once been a ballroom in the castille, before the place had been taken over by vampires.
To attract his fellows, he slit the wrist of one of the humans, and smeared the blood on the doorways into the room, taking care not to get a drop on his clean, white, cotton gloves.
((OOC: Vampires, yo, let's go.))