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Golden
Sept 15, 2011 14:06:12 GMT -5
Post by Dallon Weekes on Sept 15, 2011 14:06:12 GMT -5
{Dallian in progress}
Dallon sat on the old shag carpeting that's probably adorned the floor since the 70's. Maybe the 60's judging by the awful smell. He sat crossed leg chewing on a highlighter pen. He thumbed through a book, with a little too much concentration. Brows frowed, grip tight.
Splat!
Dallon made a noise that sounded like a hiss and a groan. He stuck out his tongue as he spit out orange goop. Yeah with fangs like his he shouldn't be chewing on anything
Stupid, pointy fangs that didn't know how to stay in his skull. They popped out when he smelled something nice, which was just about every two minutes or so. They sprung out when he was hungry, which was all the time. They snuck out during conversation, actually he stopped having human interaction months ago.
He wouldn't admit it if asked, like anyone would, but he had a date book that marked his last interactions with his family, friends, complete strangers.
It was just Dallon now. Dallon and his stupid fangs he never asked for in the first place.
He got up to wash the orange goop off his face. He was a very gaunt vampire, with wide, but bright blue eyes. He was extra tall like he was supposed to be. He also sported stereotypical dark brown hair like most did but other than that...
Nothing.
He was an awful vampire. He tripped over his feet when he tried to run. His claws popped out when he was sad. His goddamn fangs. The mystical powers that all the books had promised.
Nothing.
Not even the piece of crap book he was reading for answers offered anything. Then again he hadn't tried the sparkle in the sun thing, but he had a feeling he'd die.
Maybe that's what's for the...
He splashed himself with water to make his brain just shut up.
He focused his attention on hearing the lobby. It was empty...
He didn't run because that would spell trouble but he did sprint. He heard the familiar sound of cats hissing and dogs growling as he ran past. He ignored him, he used to love pets, but they unlike humans recognized when something could eat them. He got a couple magazines and a disability cheek.
Bread money.
Okay more like rent money, but whatever. He trudged up to his room again. Flopped down on the couch and listened to his useless breathing. You breathe for 25 years of your life it's actually quiet hard to stop.
Another thing Dallon had noticed about vampires: they were rich! Just another way Dallon fails at being a vampire. He faked a back injury a year into being a vampire because it was getting increasingly hard to be around people. This is all the money he gets.
But he was still paying off his own funeral. 10 years and he was still paying for some uncomfortable coffin that's sitting in a grave yard in Utah, empty.
He chewed on his lip, normal teeth. He moved to Las Vegas because it's the city that never slept. Even it slept.
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Golden
Sept 16, 2011 21:07:19 GMT -5
Post by Ian Crawford on Sept 16, 2011 21:07:19 GMT -5
Ian wiped up the spilled drink with a sigh. Drunk people were such a mess. Always breaking glasses and dropping their drinks and knocking them over. The entire casino smelt of booze, having sunken into the carpet over all its years in business.
The job wasn't always that terrible and the pay was quite good. Ladies tended to throw money at the male waiters and bartenders when tipsy. Considering everyone was buzzed in casinos, he got by. Rent was extremely high in such a popular city. Sometimes Ian wondered if Vegas was the right place to be. But it wasn't like he could pack up and leave. He didn't have the courage to do that.
The clock struck 2 a.m. His shift was over.
He threw the damp rag behind the bar counter and went to the back room to grab his stuff as the next guy adjusted his tie and nodded at Ian before passing him in the doorway. Ian was lucky that the guy with the shift after him always showed up on time. He was exhausted by the time it hit two in the morning.
Once back at his apartment building, he took the elevator up to the fifth floor, fumbled with the keys in his pocket for the right one. His headache was growing. All he wanted was a couple advils and to curl up in his bed.
He paused in the hallway to look at a door. Apparently someone had moved in, but he hadn't seen a single person go in or out. And it had been a couple of months. Ian shrugged. No one was close in the building anyway. He didn't know half the others' names and they didn't know his. It was Las Vegas. Who really knew anyone in Vegas anyway?
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Golden
Sept 16, 2011 21:50:34 GMT -5
Post by Dallon Weekes on Sept 16, 2011 21:50:34 GMT -5
Dallon liked to listen to his neighbor to his left. He had good taste in music and usually talked to himself. He felt weird at first. Now he kind of was addicted to it. He sat perched on his couch, just listening.
He would really like to talk to anyone, but he couldn't trust himself. He really couldn't. He kind of couldn't remember what his voice sounded like.
He smelled soap and heard water. He figured the person he listened to was in the shower. He thought wistfully about his tub/bed. He wished he could sleep with out the sun telling him to.
He caught a whiff of smoke, which was normal. Both his neighbors smoked. Today it was thicker. It wasn't pot. It was...
The drill went off with it's screech, which is 15 times as worse now that he was a vampire. He hissed at the end. He knew he'd burn to a crisp if he stayed so he took off for the lobby. He was directed by the man who smelled like peaches to go outside.
The air felt so good on him. And it smelled good. Hell it sounded good. He belonged out there.
He felt an itch at the bottom of his spine. It was like anything he'd ever felt in his entire life. It was actually terrifying.
The man who lives to his right his defending himself in Spanish. Dallon raised a currious eyebrow at him. He could hear him speak English when talking to all the women and men he lures into his bed. Unless they liked it.
Gross, he really didn't mean to think about his neighbors' sex lives. But of course he knew.
He moved further away from the group. He was starting to get nervous, so he shoved his hands in his pocket letting his claws out.
He scanned the crowd curiously. Maybe he could put a face to the voice he'd been admiring. He could make a game of it... Or he could let it be like he's supposed to. He was so curious though. He could handle a conversation.
Right?
Too late. He'd sniffed out the soap and seen the slight shine to one of the tennits.
He likes to think he didn't stare.
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Golden
Sept 27, 2011 19:56:24 GMT -5
Post by Ian Crawford on Sept 27, 2011 19:56:24 GMT -5
Ian had just gotten out of the shower and pulled on his boxers when the alarm went off. He sighed. Fucking neighbors. This wasn't the first time they'd set the alarm off. Would they ever learn? They were always high it seemed, and tended to leave the stove or some shit on. It wasn't always the pot smoke that set off the alarm.
He pulled on some shorts and tugged a t-shirt over his head, slipping sandals on. Fuck it. This shouldn't last long anyway. Ian didn't think it was that big of a deal and he was exhausted. But better to be safe than sorry. He didn't feel like dying in a fire tonight.
The hallway smelt terrible with the smoke, but it wasn't abnormally thick. The fireman would get there soon enough and let the tenants back inside within the next half hour. Ian stepped outside with the others, hair still soaking wet. He could feel the water drip down his neck. And it was freezing outside. Why didn't he bring a jacket? Oh yeah, because he felt like he was about to drop dead. Everyone was lucky he'd managed to get dressed. At least the shower had sharpened his senses a bit.
He turned to the guy standing by himself. Ian had never seen him before. The guy looked confused. "It happens at least once a month, you'll get used to it. You okay? You don't look so good..."
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Golden
Sept 27, 2011 20:15:15 GMT -5
Post by Dallon Weekes on Sept 27, 2011 20:15:15 GMT -5
Dallon looked around slightly.
"Oh me?" He said quietly to himself. "I'm fine, thank you." He resisted the urge to smile with his teeth, just in case.
"Is it that one who causes it?" Dallon asked pointing to the man being questioned. "I'm afraid I don't know his name...or anyone's for that matter."
He thought of drinking from him for a split second before catching himself. He though of his lips against the slowing beating. He hadn't slipped up in a while. Maybe it was the way the moonlight hit his jugular?
"I'm Dallon Weekes I just moved into apartment 12." Please keep talking to me? Dallon thought softly. he hadn't realized how lonely he was until he got around other people. This kid seemed nice. He had a good smell to him.
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Golden
Sept 30, 2011 20:41:08 GMT -5
Post by Ian Crawford on Sept 30, 2011 20:41:08 GMT -5
"You mean the guy speaking in Spanish? Oh, that's just Gabe. I dunno. Maybe. He causes a lot of problems around here," Ian shrugged. "You'll get used to it. Oh, and his parade of lovers. Nice to meet you, man. I'm Ian Crawford. I'm in 11. So I guess we're neighbors," he smiled, happy to finally meet the new guy.
He glanced over Dallon. He was...tall. And pale. Very pale.
"Where'd you come from, Dallon?" he asked curiously, not trying to be rude. It was a normal question, not too pushy he figured.
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Golden
Oct 1, 2011 6:53:40 GMT -5
Post by Dallon Weekes on Oct 1, 2011 6:53:40 GMT -5
"I'm from Salt Lake City," Dallon quickly realized he probably should have told a fake location. That's what vampires do. Ian seemed trustworthy though. Plus he didn't look like the type to be sharpening stakes.
He was happy he could remember his life prior to becoming a vampire. He couldn't remember the day he was turned and it scared him.
"Gabe must have a fleet of lovers," Dallon pointed out. "It's a little unnerving." He laughed.
Dallon looked down to his feet for a little, shuffling them uncertainly. He needed new shoes he thought to himself. Shoes would be a weird conversation to have with a stranger right?
"Uh... so where are you from?" Dallon asked, remembering how conversations worked.
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Golden
Oct 15, 2011 18:31:57 GMT -5
Post by Ian Crawford on Oct 15, 2011 18:31:57 GMT -5
"Oregon. Eugene to be precise. I wanted to be a musician, ya know? Thought it'd be easier down here. Ended up being a bartender," he shrugged. "The pay is alright. But the tips are great."
He laughed at the comment about Gabe. "Oh, you have no idea. You'll get used to it. Sometimes they get, um, pretty loud. You might want to invest in an iPod."
Ian looked at Dallon. He wished he was a few inches taller so he wouldn't feel so small.
"So, why Vegas?"
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Golden
Oct 15, 2011 19:02:56 GMT -5
Post by Dallon Weekes on Oct 15, 2011 19:02:56 GMT -5
Dallon felt his face fall into an unfamiliar grin. "I've got a nice sound system, I just haven't hooked it up yet. I know how, I'm just incredibly lazy."
Ian gave off that musician vibe. He had curly hair that was probably too long for a guy to be sporting, but he pulled it off. And he pulled it off well.
"I was under the impression Vegas never slept so I'd have company in my insomnia. False advertising." He laughed slightly.
That wasn't too depressing was it?
"You know it's not too late to become a musician. I bet you've worked at your bar long enough for them to let you play one night."'
Dallon debated with himself before blurting out, "I play too. I sing, play bass, guitar, synthesizer, just about anything really..." He'd learned to play every instrument he could get his hands on once he'd been changed. Might as well enrich his life some.
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Golden
Oct 15, 2011 19:17:44 GMT -5
Post by Ian Crawford on Oct 15, 2011 19:17:44 GMT -5
"Have you ever walked around at like two in the morning? It's just like the daytime, man. You obviously haven't been here long enough," he laughed lightly. "I'll show you sometime. At least 80% of the places around here are still open. There are just about the same amount of people walking around, though more are plastered than during the day."
His eyes lit up at hearing Dallon's musical abilities. "Dude, we should play together sometime. It'd be awesome to practice with someone else. Kind of tired of playing by myself."
Ian couldn't help but yawn, feeling the exhaustion creep through his body. "Hey, Mr. Hall? Are we allowed back in yet?" he called out to the owner of the building. The firemen were finally exiting the front doors. They waved the okay, and Zack gave the okay to the tenants.
"Hey, it was seriously awesome to meet you, Dallon. But if I don't get some sleep, I'm going to collapse on the sidewalk and probably break my skull open in the process. But we should hang out sometime?" the last statement turned into a question when it came out of his mouth.
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Golden
Oct 15, 2011 19:24:19 GMT -5
Post by Dallon Weekes on Oct 15, 2011 19:24:19 GMT -5
"Yeah we should jam sometime!" Dallon said excitedly before he could catch himself and give himself the "be cool" speech.
"You should get some sleep;We shouldn't feed the zombies with your brains," He laughed.
"Seriously though hit me up when you're free, I won't be busy." Dallon wasn't sure if vampires could blush but if they did he'd have to have one right now looking at the sleepy but friendly man in front of him. "I'm sure you know where I live."
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