Arlo James

See what it's like to be a vulture's lunch

The notion that she knew what to do with 'vampires that like to bite' readily saw the young man frown somewhere been that hood, a disgruntled snort finding its way into the air around him, his own instinct for self-preservation assuring him the Hunter woman was hardly likely to be lying. H ews gambling now, dangerously so and yet that blood would be the death of him- quite literally. His previous control, that control he had worked so hard to achieve was rapidly beginning to wane at the sight and scent of it. Between the Hunter and the dog the very air was drenched with it until Arlo could near imagine it running down his throat. He had done so well, it had been years since he had killed anyone, he had spent so much time learning to take only so much else simply target his own kind- his vastly preferred prey- stealing their meals from their very bodies. After all, a vampire couldn't die again, he didn't need to kill to feel sated, it was a nearly perfect set up and yet....he was a slave to it still. Too young still to have that control the older vampires seemed capable of in the wake of a freshly opened room. He could ignore those living beings around him all he wanted, control himself enough to pick and choose just who he wanted to feed from without descending into some haze of blood-lust the likes of which he once had and yet still.....still those open wounds were a weakness for the young vampire. One that seemed to be rapidly causing a distinct....shift within his personality. One he loathed in himself and yet one he was near powerless to control all the same. God how he wanted that blood and here she was, walking away from him.

Following her is hardly in his best interest, he is well assured of that and yet his limbs are moving almost without his consent, following after that still running blood like a moth to a flame, trailing behind the woman until she ducks into that nearest alleyway in search of the hound she seemed to be trying to protect although why Arlo hardly knew, his mind no longer caring to attempt to discover it, his thoughts rapidly becoming fixated on one thing alone. Ah, but that was the eternal curse of his species! How everything seemed to fade in the wake of that blood. Everything. Even that sense of self-preservation he held onto so strongly. Arlo easily offering the woman the location of the dog if only to watch her turn her back, the man barely hesitating before unleashing that sticky tangle of netting, another scent at the Were the moment it attempted to flee- both women now pinned upon the far wall and held firmly in place. A part of him, somewhere, that distinctly human part that was rapidly beginning to lose all relevance was nothing short of horrified. There was easier prey then this and he'd already fed tonight even if it had hardly been satisfying and yet he could smell that delicious liquid still running freshly from their veins. Wasteful. So wasteful- surely it would be almost a crime in itself to ignore it. He hesitates but once more, affording the Hunter some chance to speak to the Were all the same, his very personality seeming to war with itself, Arlo shifting between an almost pleasant being to something entirely predatory, his instincts warning him against placing himself within reach of that Hunter and yet his azure gaze was fixated on that weeping wound alone. Whatever words the women exchanged were lost upon him. They didn't matter, he didn't care- oh how he should have! Yet how he didn't. God he would hate himself all over again tomorrow- but not now.

That knife is plucked easily from her hand, tossed to the ground, his foot placed upon it to hold it down lest she somehow magic it into life once more, long fingers moving to pluck at that makeshift wrapping, loosening it only to push it aside and expose that bloodied wound, something almost akin to an entirely pathetic whine tugging at his throat with want before his head simply lowers, lips parting to run his tongue along that laceration, his saliva so naturally sealing that wound and yet it hardly mattered- savouring that delectable taste- those words leaving his lips unbidden. The tips of his canines press against her flesh, the vampire mere moments from biting down when he feels her shift, a knife having appeared within her other hand, Arlo barely having a chance to react to it- his mind sluggish in the grips of that bloodlust as the woman slices through her bonds- slamming that knife into his right shoulder, a yelp of surprise forced from his lips before she twists it, puncturing cruelly deeper into the muscle and tendon. He releases her almost instantly, the woman shoving him forceful back several steps before that surprise quickly turns into some measure of wary aggression. Denying a vampire its food source surely the best way to anger it, lips pulled back to expose those fangs once more, a hiss of sorts sliding between his teeth. God it hurt. She stabbed him! She actually stabbed him. The knife still in her hand- threatening him once more. Her words at last seeing those cold blue eyes shift toward her now.

"I'm not like the others of my kind- you don't understand."

His words were quiet, little more than a mumble and yet whether she heard them or not he hardly cared, Arlo rolling his shoulder, testing it, a grimace of pain touching his features once more with that motion. He wasn't like other vampires, not truly and he sure as hell wasn't like those Hunters whom had attacked the Were girl at least, not to his own mind. Killing was nothing like feeding. Nothing. She had no idea. Stupid girl. His temperament rapidly becoming unbalanced once more- his youth- at least as far as vampires were concerned, surely displaying itself now. No discipline? No control? He had no one, nothing, he was learning on his own. He hadn't leapt on her from a rooftop and tried to rip her veins out had he? Surely that made him less of a monster. Surely. It had too. Her words far more pointed then perhaps she realised.

"You know nothing about me. The other vampires, they won't let me near them I- forget it."

He was balancing so delicately on that edge, hands clenching once more, Arlo struggling desperately to stop himself- the pain in his shoulder, if anything, seeming to force some clarity to his mind as he stepped back over and again, putting some space between them before at last daring to turn his back. Yielding to her this time, for now, the man turning on his heel to stride down that alleyway, attempting remove himself from that blood as quickly as he could, one had pressing at the wound on his injured shoulder to slow down his own bleeding. Words muttered back towards her as he disappeared back out and onto the street, leaving her utterly alone with the Were. She wasn't worth getting stabbed over.

"Keep your damn dog then."