[It's bad. Looking close like this, it's very obvious. Edward's been trying to stop the bleeding, but he doesn't even have the strength to put pressure on the wound anymore (doesn't matter anyway. it looks like a gunshot wound, who knows how much is happening internally). Looking at it, he has maybe a couple minutes left before bleeding out. At best.
It's... hard, for him to focus. Everything's dark and blurry and cold. What part of him's still conscious is
Oh--oh, no, you can't--[he can't heal this. He can't heal this. Not just with his blood alone. It's too much and there isn't time.
He should gather him up and hold him. Let him go. It's what he should do. Chalk this up to a lesson learned the hard way.
Of course, he's not really thinking about what he should do right now. Instead, all he can feel is panic, desperation, and he's gathering Edward up into his arms because he has to save him, he has to, he can't lose him he doesn't know what he would do with himself if he lost him--]
Hold on--Just hold on, darling, I'm--[and he's brushing Edward's hand at his neck out of the way before leaning down and sinking his fangs into him--and starting to drink]
[Everything's so... confusing. He can't think right, his brain just failing him. But he notices that presence, finally. It's... familiar, comfortable. Safe. And for a moment he's just so grateful not to be alone, he reaches out. Trying to... something. He's not sure. He ends up just blindly reaching for Oswald's sleeve, like that'll do anything.
The next, his other hand's moved away from his neck and
and
and he feels
good, suddenly
not afraid or cold or in pain at all anymore. everything feels good and nice.
for a bit.
then something seems... wrong. it's... too much? it keeps going and he feels so faint. . .]
[He drinks. And he drinks. And Edward tastes as good as he ever does--if not better. But he can't focus on it, can't even register it at all. He's too focused on finding that precipice; on ensuring that he gets everything, before Edward has to ingest some of his blood. And he has to, there's no way he can't, and he's so focused on that, he can't think of anything else.
When he thinks he's gotten all of it, he pulls back just enough to lift his head--before he's tearing at his own wrist with his fangs, getting himself to bleed, before pressing it to Edward's mouth]
[It's a small window. The act of feeding like that keeps Edward alive a little longer, even with no blood left.
That doesn't mean he's especially lucid. He's staring blankly ahead, not really hearing Oswald. But something presses to his mouth, suddenly. And a few drops make it onto his tongue and something tells him he
needs this.
Somehow.
He doesn't know what he's drinking. It tastes strange and metallic and... wonderful? He gets a good mouthful of it, closing his eyes. For a moment he's just... so tired. He wants to sleep.]
[The next moment, his eyes snap open, and he gasps and suddenly he's aware of everything around him. Every sight, sound, smell - he feels like he can almost taste the air around him - and it's so much.
It feels like... like he's drowning.
He shuts his eyes quickly and curls up, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to block out the world. But he can't block out whatever he's feeling right now. This horrible need, all throughout his body, suddenly. He just keeps breathing quickly, as if hoping maybe air is what he needs.]
[he's...covered in Edward's blood. And Edward is curling into himself; definitely in the first stages of going into a frenzy, and he has got to get him to somewhere safer than this with extra blood storage--so he's scooping his prone form up in his arms and holding him close to his chest]
Just--hang on, Edward. I'm taking us somewhere safe--I promise. [his voice is tight, and if he's trembling, he's too focused on slipping into the shadows with Edward in tow, moving as quickly as he can to get them to one of his safe houses.
It doesn't take too long to get there; he has a couple different ones, after all. It's no trouble to get inside the apartment and lock them in. The place is cold and still, as it should be. Oswald is immediately moving to initially set Edward on the couch.]
There, just--stay there a moment, I keep this place stocked, it's alright--[it's anything but alright. Nothing is alright. But it tumbles out of his mouth and he has to resist the urge to make a hysterical noise as he races to the kitchen to grab one of the blood packs out of the fridge so he can get it over to Edward.]
[None of this really registers, for him. There's just... the vague feeling, somewhere far away, of slipping into something. Maybe. He doesn't really know. It all just seems meaningless compared to the feeling inside him. It's drowning out everything. There's nothing else in the world anymore, other than the need, the... the want.
It's dark and burning through his veins and he feels so empty
why does he feel empty
he's lying on something and why is he lying on something, he should be doing something about this.
Somewhere in his state he's stumbling off the couch, not getting very far before he's doubling over to the floor. He's stuck somewhere between heaving and... and growling, almost.
[there's a soft thump as Edward rolls onto the floor--and Oswald is hurrying over to him, dropping down next to Edward and trying to gather him up in one arm while fumbling with the blood bag in his other]
I know, I know, I'm sorry, just--here--[and he's ripping over a corner of the bag with his teeth]--open your mouth, you need to drink--
[He'll let Edward snatch at the blood bag and let him take it--he should've grabbed a second one, or a third, he was just so frantic--for the moment, though, he's just holding Edward and making sure he starts drinking that first bag]
[he feels so weak and faint right now, he doesn't know how he's even able to stay upright enough to drink this, whatever it is
but drink it he does and it feels
incredible
like nothing else in the world
the bag is drained dry in moments, though, and he needs more. he has nothing in his system right now and that small amount isn't going to hold him over.]
Okay. Okay. [He's shifting to gently prop Edward up at the foot of the couch]
I'm going to get more, Edward, just--stay right there. [if he was thinking logically, he'd know that anything he's saying is rather useless. But he's not thinking logically right now. He's just going to the refrigerator to grab at least four more blood bags as quickly as possible and bring them back. There's...only really enough blood in there for a normal vampire to go a couple weeks, but that won't be nearly enough for Edward. Or it might just be enough...for now. But Oswald will absolutely have to make some sort of run.]
or... or he's moving? just for a moment and then he's alone and that feeling is... gone. and he's back to feeling too empty again. he needs... more. more of that feeling, of whatever he just had.
he should stay, though, right? except why does he... think that?
no
no, he shouldn't, he should be moving, he needs more of this
he reaches out, finding the edge of the couch, and manages to work himself upright by the time Oswald returns with more bags. it's shaky but he's standing, if supporting himself using the couch, still
[He comes back to the living room to find Edward standing and oh, that is not a good thing--]
Sit, Edward--[and he's reaching out to push his shoulder so at least he's sitting on the couch before tearing another blood bag open with his teeth and shoving it into his hands]
[yep okay alright, he's going to have to possibly tie him down soon. He's never...turned anyone before, or witnessed it (aside from his own,) but he knows enough about the theory to know that this is not good.
Perhaps if he can lure him towards the bedroom--]
Here, Edward--[he waits until he's almost finished with that one before taking a couple steps away and tearing over another]--this way.
[He blinks a few times, following... not so much the sound, but the scent. He can smell the bag and he needs it so much it's almost painful. He manages to get himself upright again and stumbling forward.]
That's right--follow me. [he'll take steps back as Edward moves forward. It's not ideal in any sense but it's working for now and that's what's important.
Come on--here. [he's got two more left, so he'll let Edward take that one, now. They're close--this is not a big safehouse. And there's a bed that's bolted to the floor and with a platinum frame and restraints, because you just never know who you're going to need to restrain sometimes.
Anyway, once he finishes that next one, he'll tear open another one and try and coax him further towards the bedroom]
[Edward lunges--and Oswald sucks in a breath, even though he does need to, letting Edward grab it out of his hand. He has to get him to that bedroom soon--and he's stumbling back a bit more, keeping his gaze intensely focused on him]
[Edward just takes the bag, tearing it open further. Definitely spilling blood from it, possibly even more than gets in his mouth. Between that and the blood from his wounds - still present, not healed, but no longer fatal - he looks like a complete mess.
He's just trying to get what blood he can into his mouth.
It's... better now, a little. He isn't satisfied, but he feels less horrifically empty.]
[Oswald almost winces at the spillage of excess blood, but tears open the next bag, backing into the bedroom and towards the bed, holding it out.] Almost there, Edward. Come on now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's... hard, for him to focus. Everything's dark and blurry and cold. What part of him's still conscious is
absolutely terrified right now.]
no subject
He should gather him up and hold him. Let him go. It's what he should do. Chalk this up to a lesson learned the hard way.
Of course, he's not really thinking about what he should do right now. Instead, all he can feel is panic, desperation, and he's gathering Edward up into his arms because he has to save him, he has to, he can't lose him he doesn't know what he would do with himself if he lost him--]
Hold on--Just hold on, darling, I'm--[and he's brushing Edward's hand at his neck out of the way before leaning down and sinking his fangs into him--and starting to drink]
no subject
The next, his other hand's moved away from his neck and
and
and he feels
good, suddenly
not afraid or cold or in pain at all anymore. everything feels good and nice.
for a bit.
then something seems... wrong. it's... too much? it keeps going and he feels so faint. . .]
no subject
When he thinks he's gotten all of it, he pulls back just enough to lift his head--before he's tearing at his own wrist with his fangs, getting himself to bleed, before pressing it to Edward's mouth]
Drink--Edward, you have to drink it--
1/2
That doesn't mean he's especially lucid. He's staring blankly ahead, not really hearing Oswald. But something presses to his mouth, suddenly. And a few drops make it onto his tongue and something tells him he
needs this.
Somehow.
He doesn't know what he's drinking. It tastes strange and metallic and... wonderful? He gets a good mouthful of it, closing his eyes. For a moment he's just... so tired. He wants to sleep.]
2/2
It feels like... like he's drowning.
He shuts his eyes quickly and curls up, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to block out the world. But he can't block out whatever he's feeling right now. This horrible need, all throughout his body, suddenly. He just keeps breathing quickly, as if hoping maybe air is what he needs.]
no subject
Just--hang on, Edward. I'm taking us somewhere safe--I promise. [his voice is tight, and if he's trembling, he's too focused on slipping into the shadows with Edward in tow, moving as quickly as he can to get them to one of his safe houses.
It doesn't take too long to get there; he has a couple different ones, after all. It's no trouble to get inside the apartment and lock them in. The place is cold and still, as it should be. Oswald is immediately moving to initially set Edward on the couch.]
There, just--stay there a moment, I keep this place stocked, it's alright--[it's anything but alright. Nothing is alright. But it tumbles out of his mouth and he has to resist the urge to make a hysterical noise as he races to the kitchen to grab one of the blood packs out of the fridge so he can get it over to Edward.]
no subject
It's dark and burning through his veins and he feels so empty
why does he feel empty
he's lying on something and why is he lying on something, he should be doing something about this.
Somewhere in his state he's stumbling off the couch, not getting very far before he's doubling over to the floor. He's stuck somewhere between heaving and... and growling, almost.
what's happening?]
no subject
I know, I know, I'm sorry, just--here--[and he's ripping over a corner of the bag with his teeth]--open your mouth, you need to drink--
no subject
but that smell?
that smell makes sense to him, like nothing ever has
he's not so much reaching for it, as grabbing, trying to snatch it
he needs it he needs it please he needs this]
no subject
no subject
but drink it he does and it feels
incredible
like nothing else in the world
the bag is drained dry in moments, though, and he needs more. he has nothing in his system right now and that small amount isn't going to hold him over.]
no subject
I'm going to get more, Edward, just--stay right there. [if he was thinking logically, he'd know that anything he's saying is rather useless. But he's not thinking logically right now. He's just going to the refrigerator to grab at least four more blood bags as quickly as possible and bring them back. There's...only really enough blood in there for a normal vampire to go a couple weeks, but that won't be nearly enough for Edward. Or it might just be enough...for now. But Oswald will absolutely have to make some sort of run.]
no subject
or... or he's moving? just for a moment and then he's alone and that feeling is... gone. and he's back to feeling too empty again. he needs... more. more of that feeling, of whatever he just had.
he should stay, though, right? except why does he... think that?
no
no, he shouldn't, he should be moving, he needs more of this
he reaches out, finding the edge of the couch, and manages to work himself upright by the time Oswald returns with more bags. it's shaky but he's standing, if supporting himself using the couch, still
this isn't a good thing.]
no subject
Sit, Edward--[and he's reaching out to push his shoulder so at least he's sitting on the couch before tearing another blood bag open with his teeth and shoving it into his hands]
no subject
The look in his eyes is unfocused and... unhinged. More wild animal than anything resembling himself.
But another bag is shoved into his hands and he's drinking before he knows it, desperate for more.]
no subject
Perhaps if he can lure him towards the bedroom--]
Here, Edward--[he waits until he's almost finished with that one before taking a couple steps away and tearing over another]--this way.
no subject
no subject
no subject
The feral instincts keeping him going right now force him to speed up, trying to get to the blood before it can move too far.]
no subject
Anyway, once he finishes that next one, he'll tear open another one and try and coax him further towards the bedroom]
no subject
So... yes. He's moving.
But not so much walking - stumbling, really - but lunging now, making a grab for it.]
no subject
no subject
He's just trying to get what blood he can into his mouth.
It's... better now, a little. He isn't satisfied, but he feels less horrifically empty.]
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)