Ravindra Savarna (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
healspec) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2013-07-25 12:23 am
healspec) wrote in savetheearth2013-07-25 12:23 am
Entry tags:
[Alex/Ravi] - Vampires are terrible friends
Who: Ravi & Alex
What: Alex regained some vampire physiology, including a biological need for blood to sustain himself. You know what's full of blood? Roommates.
When: Wednesday, July 24th, evening
Where: Ravi's apartment
It was finally happening. His body was shutting down.
At least, that was the conclusion Alex had come to given his metabolic changes over the past few days. When his puncture wounds from the ambush in the mines had healed up, the faster rate at which he'd recovered hadn't been his imagination. The ribs Ravindra had fractured during CPR were healing faster, too. The bruises were already gone.
He didn't think about the impossibility of his current state. He had, exactly once, with full gusto after his visit with Strider. Never again -- unless he wanted to purposefully drive himself up a wall in frustration.
Which, as a self-deprecating thought, he supposed he couldn't rule out the same as he couldn't rule out living while being halfway towards clinically dead.
Those metabolic changes, though, were convincing him that he was finishing that other half. His lethargy was so potent he'd been convinced a potato's life would be more exciting than his until he could no longer afford the energy to think about it. There was a nagging sensation in the corner of his skull, restless without direction-- his survival instinct telling him to do something.
Ravi didn't know what to think of all that. Alex had seemed fine, somehow, despite his heart not beating and his blood not circulating. It was impossible. So was the speed with which he healed. Ravi couldn't ignore the weird shit going on anymore. There was no longer any possibility in which he was just crazy and delusional. There were too many people involved for that, too much solid evidence.
That was uncomfortable to confront. So he avoided it.
Meanwhile, he was busy worrying about whatever it was he'd gained from that 'pulse', as people had come to call them. That warmth behind his heart had emerged around the same time Alex had collapsed, and it hadn't gone away. It just sat there, feeling strange and unfamiliar. Listening with a stethoscope hadn't revealed anything amiss. There were no accompanying symptoms like fatigue or shortness of breath. It wasn't painful.
He'd tried several different things to see if he could make it go away. Ice, heating pads, antacids, OTC pain relievers/anti-inflammatories. He was even considering quitting smoking, on the chance that maybe it was lung cancer. Anything that seemed like it might possibly have the slightest chance of addressing chest pain--even if it wasn't pain per se.
Nothing seemed to affect it. He was on the verge of scheduling a doctor's appointment to see if X-rays or an MRI would reveal anything.
But he hadn't mentioned any of this, preferring instead to just quietly freak out on his own until he had any idea whatsoever what was going on with himself.
At the moment, he was busy washing the dishes, and trying to lose himself in the physical nature of the task so he wouldn't have the mental space to worry.
He was effectively starving himself. Alex had guessed that it was blood he needed -- he'd already convinced himself he had been turning into a vampire, after all -- but when he'd confessed the possibility to Ravindra, it had been awkwardly brushed aside. After that, he hadn't entertained the thought again. It was uncomfortable for the both of them.
Instead, he continued drinking juice and soda in some wayward attempt to stave off the (perceived) inevitable and soothe his thirst. It didn't help, but it felt better than doing nothing. It was for this reason that he entered the kitchen while Ravi was washing the dishes, slipping behind him to get to the refrigerator.
That had been his intention, anyway. Their proximity caused him to still, straighten and shift to look at Ravi's back with unfocused eyes. Ravi was alive and warm. As if to verify this, Alex placed his palm on his back.
Yes, he was warm. Very warm.
He stiffened at Alex's touch, lowering the dinner plate he was scrubbing back into the soapy water. There was something disconcerting about it, something that set it apart from Alex's normal casual contact.
He cast a questioning look over his shoulder.
Alex stared at his hand, cold and pale against the warmth of Ravi's body, felt keenly through the fabric of his shirt. He lifted his gaze, focus returning as he sized Ravi up not as an individual or a person, but a food source. Survival instinct-- it was taking the reins.
He settled on Ravi's throat, eyeing the slight bump that was one of his jugular veins beneath the surface sharply. His fingers dug into Ravi's shirt. This was what he needed -- blood. Not juice, water, soda, none of that. Just blood.
Survival instinct was prodding at Ravindra as well. It was the look in Alex's eyes, where he focused, and the way he held himself. Alarms were sounding, warning Ravi that he was in danger.
He didn't think Alex would ever, in his right mind, try to hurt him. But every time he'd ever tried to ignore that instinct, he'd regretted it. So he listened to it now, turning away from the sink to face Alex fully. He tried to elbow Alex's arm away as he spun, using the speed of the motion and his momentum to his advantage.
"Alex," he said firmly.
His grip automatically tightened as Ravi spun, but Alex was too weak to refuse the shove. His hand fell away, but not without a noticeable attempt to cling onto him.
At the sound of his name, his lips pursed together. The blood he needed was right here.
"Just a little," he heard himself say, as he made to grab Ravi with both hands, still focusing on his throat.
Just a little--a little what?
He planted his forearm and hand against Alex's chest to hold him back, leaning away from him at the same time. It was clear now that Alex was in some kind of daze (grues???)
"Alex!" he repeated, more forcefully, hoping to snap him out of it.
Ravi's resistance caused a flicker of annoyance to cross his face. Alex ripped his attention away from his throat and locked eyes with him. He exhaled, soft and intentional, to calm both himself and his target, to put Ravi under just enough to stop struggling.
Just a little--blood? Oh god. Ravi hadn't brushed off the idea because he didn't believe it. He'd brushed it off because it was uncomfortable to think about and he didn't want to admit that maybe his roommate actually was slowly turning into a vampire.
Alex's tactic would've worked, except for one tiny problem:
Ravi habitually avoided eye contact like his life depended on it.
Instead of calming down and ceasing to struggle, he kept one arm against Alex's chest and used the other to grab for the nearest reasonably solid object.
It just so happened to be a frying pan from the drying rack. He was not careful about pulling it out, overturning the rack and any freshly washed dishes onto the kitchen floor as he swung it in an arc toward Alex's head.
Well, Alex certainly wasn't expecting that. The bottom of the pan connected with his head, letting out a solid, if somewhat grimly satisfying, sound in the process. He didn't even have time to register the blossoming pain in his skull or the sensation of yet another Echo; he was knocked out instantly, falling to the floor for the second time in less than a week.
...THAT WASN'T WHAT HE MEANT TO DO.
Ravi froze, still wielding the frying pan, staring down at Alex. Though his body was completely still, his brain was running around in an incoherent panic, screaming a million different things at him.
Things like, call the police! Don't call the police, but tie him up to make sure he doesn't try that again when he wakes up. Your roommate's a vampire! He just tried to bite you. You're going to have to re-wash all those dishes. You just broke two glasses and a bowl. Is the frying pan dented? No? Huh. What if you killed him? How would you know?
He gingerly set the frying pan on the kitchen counter behind him, and just as cautiously kneeled beside Alex. He reached out, hesitated, then rolled Alex onto his back. Still breathing. Okay. That was good.
If he didn't regain consciousness within a minute or so, um... What did that mean for vampires?
Regaining consciousness certainly allowed him the missed opportunity to appreciate what the impact of the pan had done to him. A low groan signaled Alex's return as he rolled onto his side, trying to get away from the bright, kitchen lights. He brought a hand to his head, gingerly nursing the area where he'd been hit.
He mentally cursed Ravindra, but with little actual resentment. He may have been letting instinct take over then, but he still knew what he'd done. It was a horrifying realization-- or, at least, it would be once he got over how damn sore his head was, thanks Ravi.
He let out the breath he'd been holding when Alex regained consciousness within the span of seconds. That meant he probably hadn't caused any serious brain damage, so that was a relief.
"Sorry." If he hadn't already felt guilty, the groan would've done it. "Do you remember what just happened?"
He could have been asking that to check for the minor amnesia that might've indicated a concussion, but actually he was asking to see whether 1) Alex was still under the effects of whatever had made him do that in the first place, and 2) if it had been himself behind those actions or some unknown outside force.
He forced himself to think past the immediate pain of his head and groaned again. "Yes," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He kept himself slouched over, cradling his head in both hands now.
He'd gone and tried to prey on Ravi. Ravi hadn't been Ravi. That was possibly the most disturbing thought. It had been like the distinction between a living steer and the steak on his plate. Animal versus food, except it hadn't been an animal this time. It had been another person.
He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Alex didn't have the energy to spare to freak out, but he did feel troubled. With his head still down, partially to avoid the lights and now to avoid seeing Ravi's expression, he said, "I need blood, Vin."
It was a reluctant, but necessary admittance. He'd been more than okay with dropping the subject when Ravi had because he hadn't wanted to accept it as actual reality. Tonight just proved how that option was no longer viable.
Ravi let out a slow, soft sigh, a sort of relenting. His best friend had just tried to attack him for his blood. This was no longer a possibility he could safely ignore.
He looked up, turning toward the fridge, and then rose to go to it. A steak would have been handy, but Ravindra avoided beef as an effect of his Hindu upbringing. He did, however, have a ziploc bag of raw pork chops that had been thawing in the fridge for a day or so. He grabbed that and tossed it to Alex. "Don't get trichinosis."
He went to grab the broom to start cleaning up the broken glass.
The bag slapped his arm and fell onto the floor with a gross sloshing sound. Alex turned his head just enough to peer at it from his periphery. That comment about trichinosis gave him serious pause, though. It's not like he could just waltz into any old clinic if he did get infected and he wasn't exactly thrilled at the possibility of seeing Strider as a patient again.
But there were no better options. (What about the cats--?)
No better options that also did not result in death via starvation or vengeance.
Relenting, he picked up the bag of pork chops and opened it up. After a few seconds of chewing, it became obvious this wasn't much of a band-aid fix at all. With his mouth still full of pink, porky muscle, he blandly said, "I don't think this is gonna work."
He propped the broom against the edge of the counter and knelt to retrieve the dishes that weren't broken, dropping them back into the sink.
"Why not?" he asked, just as blandly. Not enough blood in the meat, he guessed, but he was trying very hard not to freak out about anything that had just happened, so he forced himself to mentally approach the conversation as though it were the most mundane thing in the world.
"Not enough," said Alex, confirming Ravi's guess. He wondered if this really was better than nothing or if it was simply a means of distracting him -- not that he blamed Ravi if that was his intention. He lowered the pork chop, glancing askance at him.
"Shouldn't you be locking yourself in your-- did I say sorry?" he asked, realizing he couldn't remember if he had or hadn't apologized for trying to feed on Ravi.
"You didn't," he said, in that deceptively-airy-but-actually-heavy tone he used sometimes as a passive-aggressive jab at someone.
"If you do it again, the frying pan still is there." He sounded a lot more certain about it than he felt. He was nervous, worried, and wary--but it was those things that would protect him if it happened again.
He picked up the larger pieces of the broken dishes first, carrying them to the trash can, which he dragged over on his way back. He watched Alex out of the corner of his eye while he swept. "It's all there is for now. After this, I'll see what else I can do."
Despite the question, apologizing was not his immediate reaction. Instead, it was guilt and a very heavy curtain of helplessness that made him feel ill at ease. Until he got blood, he was liable to fall back into that hyper focused state, but he wasn't physically up for the task of finding some, nor did he trust himself around other people right now.
That meant he was solely dependent upon Ravi to 'see what else' he could do.
It was a terrible feeling.
Alex didn't resume chewing on the dry pork chop. He sat in silence, stewing and sulking and generally feeling sorry for himself until a temporary solution occurred to him. It wouldn't address his inability to get his own food, but it would keep him out of trouble.
He shoved the chewed cut back into the ziplock bag and rose slowly, from ingrained lessons learned. "I'm going to bed. Don't open the door."
He mentally informed Ravi that his rifle was under his bed, too, then paused as the fact that he'd thought it at all sunk in. Very unsettling.
He snagged the bottle of Nyquil from the bathroom on his way back. Hopefully that would help keep him less... aggressive.
What: Alex regained some vampire physiology, including a biological need for blood to sustain himself. You know what's full of blood? Roommates.
When: Wednesday, July 24th, evening
Where: Ravi's apartment
It was finally happening. His body was shutting down.
At least, that was the conclusion Alex had come to given his metabolic changes over the past few days. When his puncture wounds from the ambush in the mines had healed up, the faster rate at which he'd recovered hadn't been his imagination. The ribs Ravindra had fractured during CPR were healing faster, too. The bruises were already gone.
He didn't think about the impossibility of his current state. He had, exactly once, with full gusto after his visit with Strider. Never again -- unless he wanted to purposefully drive himself up a wall in frustration.
Which, as a self-deprecating thought, he supposed he couldn't rule out the same as he couldn't rule out living while being halfway towards clinically dead.
Those metabolic changes, though, were convincing him that he was finishing that other half. His lethargy was so potent he'd been convinced a potato's life would be more exciting than his until he could no longer afford the energy to think about it. There was a nagging sensation in the corner of his skull, restless without direction-- his survival instinct telling him to do something.
Ravi didn't know what to think of all that. Alex had seemed fine, somehow, despite his heart not beating and his blood not circulating. It was impossible. So was the speed with which he healed. Ravi couldn't ignore the weird shit going on anymore. There was no longer any possibility in which he was just crazy and delusional. There were too many people involved for that, too much solid evidence.
That was uncomfortable to confront. So he avoided it.
Meanwhile, he was busy worrying about whatever it was he'd gained from that 'pulse', as people had come to call them. That warmth behind his heart had emerged around the same time Alex had collapsed, and it hadn't gone away. It just sat there, feeling strange and unfamiliar. Listening with a stethoscope hadn't revealed anything amiss. There were no accompanying symptoms like fatigue or shortness of breath. It wasn't painful.
He'd tried several different things to see if he could make it go away. Ice, heating pads, antacids, OTC pain relievers/anti-inflammatories. He was even considering quitting smoking, on the chance that maybe it was lung cancer. Anything that seemed like it might possibly have the slightest chance of addressing chest pain--even if it wasn't pain per se.
Nothing seemed to affect it. He was on the verge of scheduling a doctor's appointment to see if X-rays or an MRI would reveal anything.
But he hadn't mentioned any of this, preferring instead to just quietly freak out on his own until he had any idea whatsoever what was going on with himself.
At the moment, he was busy washing the dishes, and trying to lose himself in the physical nature of the task so he wouldn't have the mental space to worry.
He was effectively starving himself. Alex had guessed that it was blood he needed -- he'd already convinced himself he had been turning into a vampire, after all -- but when he'd confessed the possibility to Ravindra, it had been awkwardly brushed aside. After that, he hadn't entertained the thought again. It was uncomfortable for the both of them.
Instead, he continued drinking juice and soda in some wayward attempt to stave off the (perceived) inevitable and soothe his thirst. It didn't help, but it felt better than doing nothing. It was for this reason that he entered the kitchen while Ravi was washing the dishes, slipping behind him to get to the refrigerator.
That had been his intention, anyway. Their proximity caused him to still, straighten and shift to look at Ravi's back with unfocused eyes. Ravi was alive and warm. As if to verify this, Alex placed his palm on his back.
Yes, he was warm. Very warm.
He stiffened at Alex's touch, lowering the dinner plate he was scrubbing back into the soapy water. There was something disconcerting about it, something that set it apart from Alex's normal casual contact.
He cast a questioning look over his shoulder.
Alex stared at his hand, cold and pale against the warmth of Ravi's body, felt keenly through the fabric of his shirt. He lifted his gaze, focus returning as he sized Ravi up not as an individual or a person, but a food source. Survival instinct-- it was taking the reins.
He settled on Ravi's throat, eyeing the slight bump that was one of his jugular veins beneath the surface sharply. His fingers dug into Ravi's shirt. This was what he needed -- blood. Not juice, water, soda, none of that. Just blood.
Survival instinct was prodding at Ravindra as well. It was the look in Alex's eyes, where he focused, and the way he held himself. Alarms were sounding, warning Ravi that he was in danger.
He didn't think Alex would ever, in his right mind, try to hurt him. But every time he'd ever tried to ignore that instinct, he'd regretted it. So he listened to it now, turning away from the sink to face Alex fully. He tried to elbow Alex's arm away as he spun, using the speed of the motion and his momentum to his advantage.
"Alex," he said firmly.
His grip automatically tightened as Ravi spun, but Alex was too weak to refuse the shove. His hand fell away, but not without a noticeable attempt to cling onto him.
At the sound of his name, his lips pursed together. The blood he needed was right here.
"Just a little," he heard himself say, as he made to grab Ravi with both hands, still focusing on his throat.
Just a little--a little what?
He planted his forearm and hand against Alex's chest to hold him back, leaning away from him at the same time. It was clear now that Alex was in some kind of daze (grues???)
"Alex!" he repeated, more forcefully, hoping to snap him out of it.
Ravi's resistance caused a flicker of annoyance to cross his face. Alex ripped his attention away from his throat and locked eyes with him. He exhaled, soft and intentional, to calm both himself and his target, to put Ravi under just enough to stop struggling.
Just a little--blood? Oh god. Ravi hadn't brushed off the idea because he didn't believe it. He'd brushed it off because it was uncomfortable to think about and he didn't want to admit that maybe his roommate actually was slowly turning into a vampire.
Alex's tactic would've worked, except for one tiny problem:
Ravi habitually avoided eye contact like his life depended on it.
Instead of calming down and ceasing to struggle, he kept one arm against Alex's chest and used the other to grab for the nearest reasonably solid object.
It just so happened to be a frying pan from the drying rack. He was not careful about pulling it out, overturning the rack and any freshly washed dishes onto the kitchen floor as he swung it in an arc toward Alex's head.
Well, Alex certainly wasn't expecting that. The bottom of the pan connected with his head, letting out a solid, if somewhat grimly satisfying, sound in the process. He didn't even have time to register the blossoming pain in his skull or the sensation of yet another Echo; he was knocked out instantly, falling to the floor for the second time in less than a week.
...THAT WASN'T WHAT HE MEANT TO DO.
Ravi froze, still wielding the frying pan, staring down at Alex. Though his body was completely still, his brain was running around in an incoherent panic, screaming a million different things at him.
Things like, call the police! Don't call the police, but tie him up to make sure he doesn't try that again when he wakes up. Your roommate's a vampire! He just tried to bite you. You're going to have to re-wash all those dishes. You just broke two glasses and a bowl. Is the frying pan dented? No? Huh. What if you killed him? How would you know?
He gingerly set the frying pan on the kitchen counter behind him, and just as cautiously kneeled beside Alex. He reached out, hesitated, then rolled Alex onto his back. Still breathing. Okay. That was good.
If he didn't regain consciousness within a minute or so, um... What did that mean for vampires?
Regaining consciousness certainly allowed him the missed opportunity to appreciate what the impact of the pan had done to him. A low groan signaled Alex's return as he rolled onto his side, trying to get away from the bright, kitchen lights. He brought a hand to his head, gingerly nursing the area where he'd been hit.
He mentally cursed Ravindra, but with little actual resentment. He may have been letting instinct take over then, but he still knew what he'd done. It was a horrifying realization-- or, at least, it would be once he got over how damn sore his head was, thanks Ravi.
He let out the breath he'd been holding when Alex regained consciousness within the span of seconds. That meant he probably hadn't caused any serious brain damage, so that was a relief.
"Sorry." If he hadn't already felt guilty, the groan would've done it. "Do you remember what just happened?"
He could have been asking that to check for the minor amnesia that might've indicated a concussion, but actually he was asking to see whether 1) Alex was still under the effects of whatever had made him do that in the first place, and 2) if it had been himself behind those actions or some unknown outside force.
He forced himself to think past the immediate pain of his head and groaned again. "Yes," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He kept himself slouched over, cradling his head in both hands now.
He'd gone and tried to prey on Ravi. Ravi hadn't been Ravi. That was possibly the most disturbing thought. It had been like the distinction between a living steer and the steak on his plate. Animal versus food, except it hadn't been an animal this time. It had been another person.
He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Alex didn't have the energy to spare to freak out, but he did feel troubled. With his head still down, partially to avoid the lights and now to avoid seeing Ravi's expression, he said, "I need blood, Vin."
It was a reluctant, but necessary admittance. He'd been more than okay with dropping the subject when Ravi had because he hadn't wanted to accept it as actual reality. Tonight just proved how that option was no longer viable.
Ravi let out a slow, soft sigh, a sort of relenting. His best friend had just tried to attack him for his blood. This was no longer a possibility he could safely ignore.
He looked up, turning toward the fridge, and then rose to go to it. A steak would have been handy, but Ravindra avoided beef as an effect of his Hindu upbringing. He did, however, have a ziploc bag of raw pork chops that had been thawing in the fridge for a day or so. He grabbed that and tossed it to Alex. "Don't get trichinosis."
He went to grab the broom to start cleaning up the broken glass.
The bag slapped his arm and fell onto the floor with a gross sloshing sound. Alex turned his head just enough to peer at it from his periphery. That comment about trichinosis gave him serious pause, though. It's not like he could just waltz into any old clinic if he did get infected and he wasn't exactly thrilled at the possibility of seeing Strider as a patient again.
But there were no better options. (What about the cats--?)
No better options that also did not result in death via starvation or vengeance.
Relenting, he picked up the bag of pork chops and opened it up. After a few seconds of chewing, it became obvious this wasn't much of a band-aid fix at all. With his mouth still full of pink, porky muscle, he blandly said, "I don't think this is gonna work."
He propped the broom against the edge of the counter and knelt to retrieve the dishes that weren't broken, dropping them back into the sink.
"Why not?" he asked, just as blandly. Not enough blood in the meat, he guessed, but he was trying very hard not to freak out about anything that had just happened, so he forced himself to mentally approach the conversation as though it were the most mundane thing in the world.
"Not enough," said Alex, confirming Ravi's guess. He wondered if this really was better than nothing or if it was simply a means of distracting him -- not that he blamed Ravi if that was his intention. He lowered the pork chop, glancing askance at him.
"Shouldn't you be locking yourself in your-- did I say sorry?" he asked, realizing he couldn't remember if he had or hadn't apologized for trying to feed on Ravi.
"You didn't," he said, in that deceptively-airy-but-actually-heavy tone he used sometimes as a passive-aggressive jab at someone.
"If you do it again, the frying pan still is there." He sounded a lot more certain about it than he felt. He was nervous, worried, and wary--but it was those things that would protect him if it happened again.
He picked up the larger pieces of the broken dishes first, carrying them to the trash can, which he dragged over on his way back. He watched Alex out of the corner of his eye while he swept. "It's all there is for now. After this, I'll see what else I can do."
Despite the question, apologizing was not his immediate reaction. Instead, it was guilt and a very heavy curtain of helplessness that made him feel ill at ease. Until he got blood, he was liable to fall back into that hyper focused state, but he wasn't physically up for the task of finding some, nor did he trust himself around other people right now.
That meant he was solely dependent upon Ravi to 'see what else' he could do.
It was a terrible feeling.
Alex didn't resume chewing on the dry pork chop. He sat in silence, stewing and sulking and generally feeling sorry for himself until a temporary solution occurred to him. It wouldn't address his inability to get his own food, but it would keep him out of trouble.
He shoved the chewed cut back into the ziplock bag and rose slowly, from ingrained lessons learned. "I'm going to bed. Don't open the door."
He mentally informed Ravi that his rifle was under his bed, too, then paused as the fact that he'd thought it at all sunk in. Very unsettling.
He snagged the bottle of Nyquil from the bathroom on his way back. Hopefully that would help keep him less... aggressive.
no subject
he will think to later