[Solo] The Least of These
Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2022 8:15 pm
1st Glade
Vivian was adjusting to his new power quite well, or so he thought. Since the strange night he had been attacked by a John and held hostage in his room at the brothel, odd things had been happening to him. He felt closer to the life forms around him. They lured him in, speaking to him, whispering. He could feel them and their heartbeats.
Today he had determined to delve into it further. Finding an animal wasn’t really the difficult part, it was getting them to sit fucking still! He had chased two rats down an alleyway for the better part of an hour, and had ended the pursuit panting with his hands on his knees.
“Yeah well I don’t want to fucking talk to you either!” He shouted at the scurrying animals. What else could he talk to? The scrawny street dogs and cats he wasn’t getting anywhere near; he had heard stories of kind hearted beggars who had shared meals with them and had gone mad after the creatures bit them. Besides, he wasn’t a dog person. He didn’t see the appeal of having an animal who slavered over your every word. Reminded him of his work as a whore pretending to be interested in the dirty genitals wagged his way.
He felt a prick on his hand and glared at it. Fucking fleas! He raised a hand to smash the offending parasite, then stopped. He held his hand closer. The little thing was biting him, and gorging itself on his blood, but something stayed his hand.
It was strangely elegant, wasn’t it? All those little armored pieces slotted together to create flexible and strong armor. Even a man had to work hard at squishing a flea with his fingernails; crushing them with a slap didn’t work.
Vivian sat down against the wall and carefully plucked the flea off his skin. He could see her legs writhing in panic, those powerful back feet kicking uselessly in the air. He carefully set her on his wrist, near warm pulsing blood vessels. After a moment of panicked hopping around, she seemed to accept this new offering and sank her teeth into the translucent skin.
Vivian watched her. She sawed into his flesh and used her little tongue to drink up the hot blood that welled up. Her abdomen distended, swelling with life and redness. When he held her up to the light he could see the little white, bean-like shapes of eggs inside her body, squished up against her bulbous stomach where they were warm and safe. Each body segment expanded, showing her tender flesh shining through the chinks in her armor. The more she fed, the more she expanded. He could even see a set of delicate lips part along the last segments, bristles moving aside to accommodate. There was something so…strangely erotic about it. He could see her, content, swollen with motherhood and receptive to a mate. Every inch of her bled contentment.
“Wish I had a mother half as good as you.” He mumbled. “Look at you, climbing a giant. Biting a man who could destroy you and your young, just to feed them. To survive. Then you’ll lay your eggs in my coat where it’s warm and safe, and your little babies will feed off the same giant.”
She was so powerful, wasn’t she? Her six limbs, so delicate yet so strong. Her legs cascaded down in length until that last pair, that jumping pair that could launch her so far forward. She could leap further than any catamount or rat. She was empress of denying physics, the poets had gotten it wrong focusing on the jump of a hare or cat. That sleek mahogany body and that pair of eyes mounted above the comblike set of serrated fangs she’d used to open his capillaries and feed. Her hairs on her abdomen, so sensitive to the slightest brush of his breath as he examined her. If she were the size of a cat or dog it would be her that men wrote terrified tales of over glasses of whiskey. It was she who took down thousands with her diseases. She was a force of destruction and life, of sex and gluttony.
The longer Vivian looked the more he saw. A brave little soul, a soul no one wanted and no one gave a second thought about. Trash, like he was, sifting through muck and piss and refuse to forge a life. He felt a strange kinship to her, but he didn’t want to house her progeny either.
“Sorry, miss. Bad for business.” He said softly, using his index finger to oh so carefully pet her. He knew her now, every shifting piece of armor. Every egg, every swollen part of her stomach and gut digesting his blood. A small price to pay to look at her. He didn’t particularly want to put her on the cold ground.
Vivian walked out of the alleyway with his wrist aloft, looking around for someone. He spotted a crumpled form laying on the street against a wall; one of the beggars who’d gotten lucky enough to afford a cup or two of whiskey. He was out cold, and by the smell had pissed himself. Vivian’s nose curled in disgust as he approached, kneeling and gently brushing his wrist against the man’s coat.
The flea leapt free and burrowed into his clothing, seeking warmth and safety. Vivian smirked, and straightened up. “Good luck. I figure you’ll be safe there. Guys like that don’t bathe too often. And…let your kin know that I won’t hurt them. I’m not going to be an easy target and I’d prefer if they didn’t bite me but…I get it now.” Vivian said softly.
He waggled his fingers at her in a wave, and walked further down the street. At times he could feel his ribs expand as he breathed, and he recalled her segments spreading wide. He felt his legs stretch and thought of hers. He could feel his teeth in his mouth, so dull and useless behind their meat shield. He laughed.
“And to think, we drown them in treatments of oil and lavender.” He muttered to himself with a sad smile.
He found more of them. Huddled in trash or crawling on dogs and cats. They were similar to the people who lived in the slums of Amoren; just trying to survive on whatever they could. Unlike the humans and other races, their options were much more limited. They were locked in the same desperate struggle as a vampire, and Vivian wanted to see more of them. He wanted to understand them. Such an intimate moment deserved to be studied. He could feel their power humming in his limbs. The ability to leap like a god. Armor so powerful even behemoths struggled to crush them.
Vivian found a dog lying in the back of an alleyway, breathing shallowly. He had never liked dogs. He eyed the small white form suspiciously; approaching it was a risk. He knew what rabid dogs looked like and the terror they spread through the street community when one was discovered. It usually ended with everyone grabbing filthy rocks or boards and beating the monster to death.
This didn’t seem like that. The dog was just lying there, as though asleep. It wasn’t dead; Vivian could see it’s ribcage heaving. He approached slowly; no foam around the mouth, no weird twitching, no growling or awkward swallowing. Maybe this thing wasn’t sick. It didn’t even seem to register his presence.
Vivian squatted next to it, eyeing the filthy creature, and noticed something. An army of black, beautiful rich brown as they caught the light, seething into the dog’s fur. It was a living carpet, a community, a city. He blinked; the dog was clearly struggling and yet here they were. So sleek and fat. Mats of their grubs clustered in the dog’s fur, squirming and licking and biting. They latched on like a babe to a breast, fattening themselves.
Vivian brought his face closer. There they were. New life pulsing in tiny eggs, the tiny white grubs blind and chewing their way free to reach the mat of pale skin and hair. Adult fleas resting quietly with their blood meals shining red through their distended bellies, soaking up the body heat of the dog. He watched a pair, the male mounting the lazy female with her face smeared in blood. It was so…hedonistic. Like a party he’d attended. Food and sex, and new life.
Vivian eyed the dog. It’s gums were white, and the pink tongue laying on the cobblestone was disturbingly pale. “You’re drinking him dry, you filthy little darlings.” He muttered under his breath.
Tiny insects most people ignored were killing this dog. Moment by moment they fucked on its skin, birthing their hungry children and sucking up every last precious drop. As Vivian watched, the dog’s eyes were slowly clouding over and it’s breathing was slowing. For some reason, panic seized him. He was tapped into them now. There was Malformation magic, imprinting, between himself and the fleas. The dog was dying. It would be a cold corpse soon, dooming the tiny grubs. Dooming the clutches of eggs.
Vivian forced himself to calm, rising and looking down. The dog sucked in a few last, shuddering breaths. He was watching the last stages of a hedonistic empire, grown too fat off of the land they had pillaged. Now? They would suffer. The adults would crawl away into the dark, and the children would either be forced to pupate or freeze.
The dog’s body stilled. There it was. The end. Vivian wished he could take them…but their hunger would doom him too. He would be a fool to let them overrun him. The adults would recover, and the struggle would make their children stronger. This was nature’s rule, and it was no kinder to the fleas than it was to him. He nodded at them, in respect of their hunt, and turned away. Like a parasite on the skin of the city itself, so too did he have to feed eventually.
Vivian was adjusting to his new power quite well, or so he thought. Since the strange night he had been attacked by a John and held hostage in his room at the brothel, odd things had been happening to him. He felt closer to the life forms around him. They lured him in, speaking to him, whispering. He could feel them and their heartbeats.
Today he had determined to delve into it further. Finding an animal wasn’t really the difficult part, it was getting them to sit fucking still! He had chased two rats down an alleyway for the better part of an hour, and had ended the pursuit panting with his hands on his knees.
“Yeah well I don’t want to fucking talk to you either!” He shouted at the scurrying animals. What else could he talk to? The scrawny street dogs and cats he wasn’t getting anywhere near; he had heard stories of kind hearted beggars who had shared meals with them and had gone mad after the creatures bit them. Besides, he wasn’t a dog person. He didn’t see the appeal of having an animal who slavered over your every word. Reminded him of his work as a whore pretending to be interested in the dirty genitals wagged his way.
He felt a prick on his hand and glared at it. Fucking fleas! He raised a hand to smash the offending parasite, then stopped. He held his hand closer. The little thing was biting him, and gorging itself on his blood, but something stayed his hand.
It was strangely elegant, wasn’t it? All those little armored pieces slotted together to create flexible and strong armor. Even a man had to work hard at squishing a flea with his fingernails; crushing them with a slap didn’t work.
Vivian sat down against the wall and carefully plucked the flea off his skin. He could see her legs writhing in panic, those powerful back feet kicking uselessly in the air. He carefully set her on his wrist, near warm pulsing blood vessels. After a moment of panicked hopping around, she seemed to accept this new offering and sank her teeth into the translucent skin.
Vivian watched her. She sawed into his flesh and used her little tongue to drink up the hot blood that welled up. Her abdomen distended, swelling with life and redness. When he held her up to the light he could see the little white, bean-like shapes of eggs inside her body, squished up against her bulbous stomach where they were warm and safe. Each body segment expanded, showing her tender flesh shining through the chinks in her armor. The more she fed, the more she expanded. He could even see a set of delicate lips part along the last segments, bristles moving aside to accommodate. There was something so…strangely erotic about it. He could see her, content, swollen with motherhood and receptive to a mate. Every inch of her bled contentment.
“Wish I had a mother half as good as you.” He mumbled. “Look at you, climbing a giant. Biting a man who could destroy you and your young, just to feed them. To survive. Then you’ll lay your eggs in my coat where it’s warm and safe, and your little babies will feed off the same giant.”
She was so powerful, wasn’t she? Her six limbs, so delicate yet so strong. Her legs cascaded down in length until that last pair, that jumping pair that could launch her so far forward. She could leap further than any catamount or rat. She was empress of denying physics, the poets had gotten it wrong focusing on the jump of a hare or cat. That sleek mahogany body and that pair of eyes mounted above the comblike set of serrated fangs she’d used to open his capillaries and feed. Her hairs on her abdomen, so sensitive to the slightest brush of his breath as he examined her. If she were the size of a cat or dog it would be her that men wrote terrified tales of over glasses of whiskey. It was she who took down thousands with her diseases. She was a force of destruction and life, of sex and gluttony.
The longer Vivian looked the more he saw. A brave little soul, a soul no one wanted and no one gave a second thought about. Trash, like he was, sifting through muck and piss and refuse to forge a life. He felt a strange kinship to her, but he didn’t want to house her progeny either.
“Sorry, miss. Bad for business.” He said softly, using his index finger to oh so carefully pet her. He knew her now, every shifting piece of armor. Every egg, every swollen part of her stomach and gut digesting his blood. A small price to pay to look at her. He didn’t particularly want to put her on the cold ground.
Vivian walked out of the alleyway with his wrist aloft, looking around for someone. He spotted a crumpled form laying on the street against a wall; one of the beggars who’d gotten lucky enough to afford a cup or two of whiskey. He was out cold, and by the smell had pissed himself. Vivian’s nose curled in disgust as he approached, kneeling and gently brushing his wrist against the man’s coat.
The flea leapt free and burrowed into his clothing, seeking warmth and safety. Vivian smirked, and straightened up. “Good luck. I figure you’ll be safe there. Guys like that don’t bathe too often. And…let your kin know that I won’t hurt them. I’m not going to be an easy target and I’d prefer if they didn’t bite me but…I get it now.” Vivian said softly.
He waggled his fingers at her in a wave, and walked further down the street. At times he could feel his ribs expand as he breathed, and he recalled her segments spreading wide. He felt his legs stretch and thought of hers. He could feel his teeth in his mouth, so dull and useless behind their meat shield. He laughed.
“And to think, we drown them in treatments of oil and lavender.” He muttered to himself with a sad smile.
He found more of them. Huddled in trash or crawling on dogs and cats. They were similar to the people who lived in the slums of Amoren; just trying to survive on whatever they could. Unlike the humans and other races, their options were much more limited. They were locked in the same desperate struggle as a vampire, and Vivian wanted to see more of them. He wanted to understand them. Such an intimate moment deserved to be studied. He could feel their power humming in his limbs. The ability to leap like a god. Armor so powerful even behemoths struggled to crush them.
Vivian found a dog lying in the back of an alleyway, breathing shallowly. He had never liked dogs. He eyed the small white form suspiciously; approaching it was a risk. He knew what rabid dogs looked like and the terror they spread through the street community when one was discovered. It usually ended with everyone grabbing filthy rocks or boards and beating the monster to death.
This didn’t seem like that. The dog was just lying there, as though asleep. It wasn’t dead; Vivian could see it’s ribcage heaving. He approached slowly; no foam around the mouth, no weird twitching, no growling or awkward swallowing. Maybe this thing wasn’t sick. It didn’t even seem to register his presence.
Vivian squatted next to it, eyeing the filthy creature, and noticed something. An army of black, beautiful rich brown as they caught the light, seething into the dog’s fur. It was a living carpet, a community, a city. He blinked; the dog was clearly struggling and yet here they were. So sleek and fat. Mats of their grubs clustered in the dog’s fur, squirming and licking and biting. They latched on like a babe to a breast, fattening themselves.
Vivian brought his face closer. There they were. New life pulsing in tiny eggs, the tiny white grubs blind and chewing their way free to reach the mat of pale skin and hair. Adult fleas resting quietly with their blood meals shining red through their distended bellies, soaking up the body heat of the dog. He watched a pair, the male mounting the lazy female with her face smeared in blood. It was so…hedonistic. Like a party he’d attended. Food and sex, and new life.
Vivian eyed the dog. It’s gums were white, and the pink tongue laying on the cobblestone was disturbingly pale. “You’re drinking him dry, you filthy little darlings.” He muttered under his breath.
Tiny insects most people ignored were killing this dog. Moment by moment they fucked on its skin, birthing their hungry children and sucking up every last precious drop. As Vivian watched, the dog’s eyes were slowly clouding over and it’s breathing was slowing. For some reason, panic seized him. He was tapped into them now. There was Malformation magic, imprinting, between himself and the fleas. The dog was dying. It would be a cold corpse soon, dooming the tiny grubs. Dooming the clutches of eggs.
Vivian forced himself to calm, rising and looking down. The dog sucked in a few last, shuddering breaths. He was watching the last stages of a hedonistic empire, grown too fat off of the land they had pillaged. Now? They would suffer. The adults would crawl away into the dark, and the children would either be forced to pupate or freeze.
The dog’s body stilled. There it was. The end. Vivian wished he could take them…but their hunger would doom him too. He would be a fool to let them overrun him. The adults would recover, and the struggle would make their children stronger. This was nature’s rule, and it was no kinder to the fleas than it was to him. He nodded at them, in respect of their hunt, and turned away. Like a parasite on the skin of the city itself, so too did he have to feed eventually.