Angel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vampdetective) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-04-25 01:44 am
vampdetective) wrote in entrancelogs2016-04-25 01:44 am
[OPEN] Sometimes your friends bring out the best in you.
Who: Angel & you!
Where: Angel Investigations & the kitchen.
When: 4/19 (for Faith) & 4/26
Rating: R? Blood, severed hands and potential for violence.
Summary: Faith offers Angel a Slayer-flavored protein shake with potentially disastrous results.
The Story:
4/19, CLOSED to Faith
4/26, OPEN
Where: Angel Investigations & the kitchen.
When: 4/19 (for Faith) & 4/26
Rating: R? Blood, severed hands and potential for violence.
Summary: Faith offers Angel a Slayer-flavored protein shake with potentially disastrous results.
The Story:
4/19, CLOSED to Faith
He's lost track of how many hours it's been since he asked Faith to lock him in, leaning heavily against the bars of the cage he'd made sure Wonderland's replica of the Angel Investigations office held for situations just like this. It had started to prick at him the night before, the hunger he knew would come when all his supplies were exhausted-- the Infected posed as much a threat to him as anyone else, but he was just as fast as they were, maybe faster, and it made getting bitten easy enough to avoidable. The spores weren't a concern for someone who didn't breed, but the lack of supplies and the fact that the closets were giving out less and less?
That was a problem. He'd thought that it might be, when the additional stock he'd grabbed for himself after the announcement had disappeared. There had been enough blood stored in the fridge in his office to last him through most events, provided Wonderland didn't take it away, but this one seemed to be longer than most, and he wasn't willing to risk what could happen if he decided to let himself roam free and just hope it ended sooner rather than later-- not when he was this hungry.
The request for Faith to lock him in and make sure he stayed there had come paired with a gas mask. Physically, she could handle more than her share of assailants just like he could, but he wasn't going to risk her getting infected by inhaling something she shouldn't on his account. He'd been grateful when she'd agreed, but that had been hours ago-- it felt like days, the way hunger was beginning to gnaw at him, and he irately pushes himself away from the bars of the cage so that he can pace along its length, hands clasped behind his back.
He'd planned for alternatives in the event that Wonderland came up with an event that kept him from being able to eat, but the current method was equal parts exhausting and maddening. He sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck as he paces.
"We should, I don't know, play charades or something. Poker?" No need to be dying of both hunger and boredom. "Maybe Uno."
4/26, OPEN
A full week after the event, and Angel was still feeling the effects of the favor Faith had done him. A part of him had hoped that they would have burned themselves out of his system by now, that they would have vanished without a trace and he would be able to go back to his usual routine, but that had been wishful thinking, almost painfully optimistic.
He knew better. He had been through this enough times to know that it wouldn't work that way-- it never did, whether because of a slip he'd made all of his own accord or because someone else had intended to sabotage him. However human blood got into his system, it didn't matter. The results were always the same, except he worried that this time might actually be worse. A Slayer's blood was a different story entirely, more potent.
It had been a difficult habit to kick the first time he'd tasted it, too.
He spends most of the morning in his office on the fourth floor, thumbing through research without really reading what's on the page in front of him, reorganizing the weapons cabinet twice before he decides it's all wrong and leaves it unfinished, unsatisfied with anything he puts his hands on, restless. For a short stretch, he only paces back and forth near the front desk, unable to focus himself on anything at all-- until he gives up and decides he needs a change of scene. There are only so many places he can go, at least during the day, but the insistent hunger that's been nagging at him for days now makes the decision easy enough. The replenished stock in his office hasn't been doing him any good, cold and unappealing, but he privately hopes that the kitchen will treat him a little bit better, that maybe something fresher will help to quell his appetite.
He's both uneasy and impatient as he waits for the microwave to finish, leaning against the counter with both hands, tapping his fingers unevenly against the surface. He only gets halfway through his first mug before he feels his own body reject it-- as if it's tired of him trying to force down pig's blood instead of human, and the reaction is almost entirely involuntary as he spits out what he hasn't managed to swallow and inadvertently throws the mug against the nearest wall, causing it to break and splatter blood across the tiling.
He grimaces. Well, crap.
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