paradisalost | (no subject)

Entry tags:

diva,
zelman clock

(no subject)

Who: Diva (

languidpleasure)
What: Diva takes a bite out of Zelman :(
When: Tonight.
Where: Zelman's room.
Rating: PG13 - R? For violence 8)

Uru had told her easily enough that Zelman lived on her floor, right down the hall in room 316. Diva paused briefly outside her door-- room 303-- to slip a thank you note beneath the crack. In very terrible cursive it read:

Thank you for the information ♥
I promise I'm not going to do anything bad.
I love youuuu. Don't talk to nee-sama.
DIVA

Feeling bad tempered about Saya showing up with a large, important chunk of her memory seemingly dissolved, and hungry on top of that, Diva had decided that whatever "secret" prevented Zelman from joining her for dinner was irrelevant, and that going to his room and... persuading him... was a fabulous idea. She wanted to have fun tonight, and eating some stupid townsperson alone was never fun. Even if Zelman was boring and refused to be persuaded, she would get to see all of his things, which she supposed must be very interesting if he didn't want her stealing them. It was a win-win situation.

Diva knocked lightly on his door to a little tune, kicked it once for good measure, then stepped back to wait. She had brought a rose along, with the idea that everyone was more inclined to go out to dinner after getting a rose, and prepared herself to present it with some random line of poetry. It would look charming, or something.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Zelman was busy feeling sorry for himself for the Nth time that night. When he was this tired it was surprisingly easy, he found, to lay down and glare up at the ceiling with a mixture of self-pity and hatred towards both the human race and whatever forces decided it'd be fun to mess with him. Normally he wouldn't stand for being made a fool of, but really. Did he have a choice, now that he was stuck in that Red Blood body? That was the problem. He was just some sixteen-year-old punk until he got changed back.

knock-knock knock-knock-knock knock-knock...

For a moment he wondered if he'd actually heard the knocking (human hearing was painfully dull) but then decided that it wasn't worth it to open the door anyway. If they needed something, they could come back later. Or ask in the journal. Or just fuck off entirely for all he cared.

knock-knock knock-knock-knock knock-THUNK.

His heartbeat sped up a bit from surprise and he cursed quietly. Damn thing was like a startled rabbit. But he sat up though, putting his bare feet on the ground and eventually standing up. His newer human body was heavy, and he still found it a bit harder to control than he should have. Instant reflexes and quick healing were something he'd never take for granted ever again. He walked over to the door, past his various pieces of furniture (he had three more couches than he needed--but he liked variety), the Gothic art that covered his walls, and the various other odd things that he kept for no reason other than that he liked to fiddle or play with them when he got bored. When he reached for the doorknob, he wished above all that his Eye Ignite was still present--then he could at least have the few dozen candles alight.

His mood only darkened as he opened the door to see the one person he had really hoped he wouldn't run into, though he raised one of his usual smirks to cover up this fact. If he was lucky, very lucky, she wouldn't notice straight off that he wasn't actually a vampire anymore. He almost cursed again, though. If anything would give him away, it was that new heart of his, thundering in his chest despite his outside appearance.

"Miss Number One~ I'm surprised to see you, how'd you find my room?"

Diva smiled brightly and flourished the rose. "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary... something something... Oh, Uru told me. Anyways, I forget the rest, but here's a rose for you." She pressed it into his hand, and her fingers brushed over a pulse. It might have struck her as odd if she hadn't already been pushing past him, her attention caught by other things.

"Hahhh... wow. Lots of places to sit." Diva flopped down onto a couch and settled back, studying the room at length before her eyes came back to rest on Zelman. She hadn't really cared what his secret was so much as she cared that it was messing up her own plans, but now something felt... different, somehow. She had the distinct feeling that something in plain view was escaping her notice, and it rekindled her curiosity nicely. Dinner could wait.

"I hope you don't mind if I come in," she added belatedly, without much sincerity, still trying to pin down what exactly was turning the mood so strangely... tense. Diva was almost never accused of being shrewd; childish, insane, contemptible-- all the time, but adjectives regarding intelligence? Not so much. This was a mistake. She hadn't survived for so long by being dumb.

"Hey Zelman," she said, tilting her head to one side. "Before you were a bit flushed, but now you look pale. How... odd." You could probably hear the gears in her mind whirring. "In fact..."

... and her fingers brushed over a pulse...

The beginnings of a smile, disbelieving and delighted, began to curve her lips.

"Hey Zelman," she said again, "Guess what?"

"Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--" he finished the line out of impulse as the rose was pressed into his hand. He would have found the attempt at a romantic gesture cute if it wasn't an excuse for Diva to wander into his room and cause problems. In fact... It wasn't even an excuse.

He deposited the rose in a handy (and notably expensive) vase off to his side, watching Diva out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, he turned around to lean on the wall next to it, and just looked at Diva directly. He was contemplating making up excuses for her to leave, or just leaving himself--hell, he could probably make it if he just up and bolted for the door that was still open. Then again, make it for how long? While Diva was nothing to worry about usually, he was suddenly the prey in this scenario. He bit his lip in annoyance. Being so low on the food chain wasn't his idea of a good time.

He listened to Diva's little 2+2=4 comments and smiled, though his eyes were narrowed, clearly marking his expression as a threat. He was feeling sick again, just like the first couple of days. Nervousness. Something he hadn't really felt in centuries.

"What?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

He didn't really look too happy. Under normal circumstances, Diva might have actually backed off at signs of an unpleasant mood from him. Self-preservation instinct and all that-- fights were lovely if you knew you could win. Zelman seemed to have a lot of powers, fun and interesting powers, most of which she was jealous of, none of which she was interested in getting on the wrong side of. But the rules of normal circumstances didn't really apply anymore, did they?

"I think you're human," said Diva bluntly, returning his not-entirely-friendly gaze with her own not-entirely-friendly gaze, although it rested more on his neck than his face. It probably wasn't a nice feeling to be looked at like a big piece of meat, but then, surely Zelman understood hunger, Diva thought. He couldn't be too angry, right?

"You would do the same thing if you were me," she said, half to herself, tugging on the ends of her hair. A nervous gesture. Unless she killed him, there would be... consequences. But she didn't want to kill him, hence some very uncharacteristic caution. "Just a little taste. That's all. Won't hurt a bit."

Zelman probably should have said yes. But he didn't.

"No," he replied quite clearly, "Fuck that." His hand moved to his neck before he had the chance to think twice, and he was suddenly glad for the shirt he was wearing, how the fabric on the sides limited Diva's viewing window. Not that it really helped, but he'd noticed himself thinking some of the strangest things when presented with danger in the past few days. He wondered if all his victims thought that before they were made into meals, 'thank god I wore a turtleneck today, not that it'll help much now.'

"Just because I'm a Red Blood now doesn't make me fair game, Diva." He took a step away from the wall, and moved his hand away, clenching his fists. He wasn't sure where he was headed. Out? Outside would be good. But that lingering thought was what kept him from running off, 'What good will it do?'

But like hell he was going to give up any of his blood without a fight. Even if it wasn't Asura's blood. Old habits die hard.

Diva couldn't help it. She laughed.

"...No? What do you mean, no? What can you do?"

She was honestly at a loss. Why would he resist? What chance did he stand as a mere human? She could step across the space of the room an snap his neck before he had time to raise a hand in defense. In her mind, it was perfectly fair. If he could protect himself then fine, but if not then... well.

Although she had to admit that an angry Zelman wasn't half so nice to be around as his usual charming self... and if she took his blood without killing him, she would have to face angry Zelman without the added humanity sooner or later. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to worry about the future when the current situation presented such an unexpected treat. Increasingly difficult to remember why she hadn't done it already. The more she thought about it, the more the danger of doing something like this began to feel very appealing.

Abruptly, Diva unfolded herself from the couch. She was no longer laughing-- Zelman was getting that look that she reserved just for her victims. Glowing blue eyes and a plain old hungry smile.

"Don't be silly, Zelman. Who knows? Maybe you'll like it."

And there were his exact thoughts, said by Diva. If it were anyone else, he would have said, "at least that's over with" or something of equal unimportance, but this was him. Still, it didn't look like there were many options available. Zelman was a little annoyed she didn't follow any of the typical vampiric stereotypes. A quick jab with some silver would have had her squirming in pain if she were.

He didn't give any reply, just stepped backwards again as she approached from across the room. It was entirely counterproductive, this game of cat and mouse. All he could really do was glare at her, since he didn't seem to be able to come up with much to buy himself time, either.

"Hah, right." he said with biting sarcasm, "Having my blood drained isn't ever going to be high on my list of priorities." He'd seen Diva eat. He knew how this would work--if she were from his own world, then he might feel more inclined, but that wasn't the case here...

[ooc; lulz sorry xD Didn't wanna godmod him >>]

Time to throw caution to the wind. Diva crossed the remainder of the room in a movement that was probably too fast for his human eyes to follow, fastened both of her hands around his wrists, and pushed him back against the wall a little harder than she'd meant to. Probably hurt. Oh well.

He was at least five inches taller, which made reaching his neck a pain, but at this point it would probably be a bad idea to pull back and ask him to sit nicely on the couch or something.

"Sorry," she said, when her lips were already pressed to his neck. "... Only not really."

She bit down hard, felt him tense, but if he made any noise or struggled at all after that, she didn't have enough prescence of mind to notice it. There was just the fast rhythm of his pulse and the warm, metallic taste of blood, a great deal of the tastiest blood she had acquired since arriving at Paradisa. Later on she would wonder why on earth she had stopped when the heartbeats began to slow, when every rule she lived by said that if something was good, take it until there was nothing left. Regardless, at the right moment, her lips stopped moving against his neck, and she drew back with a deep, shuddering breath.

"Delicious," she informed him, if he could hear her. There was quite a bit of blood. And she didn' t quite know what to do now-- it was time for the "dispose of the body" stage of operations, but he wasn't dead, so... skip that step. Eventually Diva opted for easing him into a sitting position on the floor. Then there was a moment when she sat, licking her lips and staring at his bloodstained throat, wondering if it wouldn't be better to just finish the job. Luckily for Zelman, the moment passed with Diva doing nothing more than laying her lips to his hand, leaving their shape behind in blood. It struck her as the sort of thing a crazy painter would do, like the one who had cut off his ear and mailed it to some lady.

After that she probably should have gotten the hell out of there, but the temptation to poke around a bit was too much to resist. After several minutes of rubbing at a bloody handprint she had accidentally left on his wall and only making it worse, and several more minutes of examining his wardrobe, she finally left... Wearing his sneakers, and with one last comment directed at his prone form-- "You should wear that purple sweater sometime, Zelman ♪"

For the record, he tried very hard to get out of the sudden iron grip that Diva put him in, but it was to no avail. Diva was simply inhumanly strong, and struggle as he might, by the time her lips were on his neck he was in the exact same place he started with no way out. He instinctively held his breath, bracing for pain, swearing with all his mentality that he'd get Diva back for this, somehow. Assuming he survived this encounter to start with, anyway.

He flinched away when Diva's fangs clamped into his neck, his body tensing up against his will as the sharp sensation of pain spread past the wound and into his senses. He tried very hard not to make any noise--he wasn't about to give Diva that. He closed his eyes and bit his lip and clenched his fists so hard that his palms started to bleed. His heart was deafeningly loud. He just kept repeating, hurry up hurry up hurry up to himself even as he felt his own blood soaking into his shirt.

Eventually, though, he started to lose the feeling in his fingers. He opened his eyes again but it was getting hard to focus on things. A strange, alien sort of calm settled over him and he stood there, the life being leeched out of him against his will. His better judgment said that was probably an effect of having his blood drained by Diva's kind of Black Blood. He was a little glad when his heart slowed down, though. He felt tired. Remaining standing was getting harder and harder.

After what seemed like an eternity too long, Diva backed away. She said something, but Zelman was too out of it to hear. He was placed down on the floor, sitting up against the wall, and was vaguely aware of all the blood running down his arm. He pulled a hand up to stop the bleeding. Diva was rummaging around through his things. He didn't really care.

He managed to pull an annoyed face when she stole his shoes, though. He'd have to get those back later.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only