Post by The Mouth on Sept 13, 2014 15:43:10 GMT -8
The Mouth screams as he snaps awake. More accurately, he gurgles, the blood filling his mouth with sweet richness inhaled with a breath taken to scream. He coughs, precious blood spattering the floor. His nerves on fire as vitae flows into his weakened limbs.
There is a light from above casting a circle of visibility, vulnerability, around The Mouth; creaking weight above as the body twists and screams through a gag. Man or woman, it is unknown, but words are lost in the hunger.
He comes back to himself smeared in blood and squeazing a kidney to pulp to get a few precious drops of vitae from it.
He shrieks and flings it away in the darkness. There is the sound of wet carpet covered wood snapping together and a hiss.
Biscuit.
The Mouth's wits come back to him in a rush, the panic fading. The horror, the urge to let his gorge rise, that is still with him. But nervous, on a stage? Surely this is it, his show, The Mouth Returned, a Show of One, the Finest Nosferatu in Christendom.
"Good evenin' all. To what do I owe this lovely visitation?"
The Marquis's unmistakable harumph answers him.
"Well Mouth, we went and replaced you. And then the replacement ain' here. So we brought you out of your little hole." The Woman speaks with a chill in her southern tones.
Not 'Brother'. Not 'The Mouth'. Just 'Mouth', and his sister flays him open all over again. The show must go on.
"And I assume that I have been exonerated?"
A new voice, a voice not heard in years. "Mr. Sunshine confirmed recently that you were played. Some move from the Anarchs."
The Gentleman. Perhaps he had forgiven that little witty observation regarding the Gentleman's third wife all those years ago.
"Is this asshole worth it?" New voice, not his replacement...
Before Mouth answers the Marquis jumps in with a drawn out, "Yeeeessss", trailing off into a hiss.
"As it just so happens, I share The Marquis' assessment." Walter Eddington, Elder, Primogen.
"I never quite understood why he had to go away in the first place." Amelia, Miz Devlin-Price to the likes of the Mouth.
Ambivilance. Next best thing to a bosom buddy for Kindred.
"Thank you my sisters and brothers. I shall endeavor to cause no further ill will. Now, if someone could be so kind as to tell me which decade this is?"
"September. 1962." The Gentleman delivers them, these words, even in the dark the Mouth can see the man's cruel smile.
1962? "Fif-fif-fifty years?!" The composure cracks and the frenzy comes swift and is crushed as swiftly by the Mouth; ruthless and by force of will.
No, the Gentleman had not forgotten the Mouth's off hand remark.
"I expect you to perform well, Mouth. In three days we have a large gathering at a Worlds Fair, the Century 21 Exposition." Walter Eddington is calm and smooth as ever. "Prepare."
"Of course, Mr. Eddington. Of course."
The light winks out, The Mouth's circle of light vanishing.
There is a light from above casting a circle of visibility, vulnerability, around The Mouth; creaking weight above as the body twists and screams through a gag. Man or woman, it is unknown, but words are lost in the hunger.
He comes back to himself smeared in blood and squeazing a kidney to pulp to get a few precious drops of vitae from it.
He shrieks and flings it away in the darkness. There is the sound of wet carpet covered wood snapping together and a hiss.
Biscuit.
The Mouth's wits come back to him in a rush, the panic fading. The horror, the urge to let his gorge rise, that is still with him. But nervous, on a stage? Surely this is it, his show, The Mouth Returned, a Show of One, the Finest Nosferatu in Christendom.
"Good evenin' all. To what do I owe this lovely visitation?"
The Marquis's unmistakable harumph answers him.
"Well Mouth, we went and replaced you. And then the replacement ain' here. So we brought you out of your little hole." The Woman speaks with a chill in her southern tones.
Not 'Brother'. Not 'The Mouth'. Just 'Mouth', and his sister flays him open all over again. The show must go on.
"And I assume that I have been exonerated?"
A new voice, a voice not heard in years. "Mr. Sunshine confirmed recently that you were played. Some move from the Anarchs."
The Gentleman. Perhaps he had forgiven that little witty observation regarding the Gentleman's third wife all those years ago.
"Is this asshole worth it?" New voice, not his replacement...
Before Mouth answers the Marquis jumps in with a drawn out, "Yeeeessss", trailing off into a hiss.
"As it just so happens, I share The Marquis' assessment." Walter Eddington, Elder, Primogen.
"I never quite understood why he had to go away in the first place." Amelia, Miz Devlin-Price to the likes of the Mouth.
Ambivilance. Next best thing to a bosom buddy for Kindred.
"Thank you my sisters and brothers. I shall endeavor to cause no further ill will. Now, if someone could be so kind as to tell me which decade this is?"
"September. 1962." The Gentleman delivers them, these words, even in the dark the Mouth can see the man's cruel smile.
1962? "Fif-fif-fifty years?!" The composure cracks and the frenzy comes swift and is crushed as swiftly by the Mouth; ruthless and by force of will.
No, the Gentleman had not forgotten the Mouth's off hand remark.
"I expect you to perform well, Mouth. In three days we have a large gathering at a Worlds Fair, the Century 21 Exposition." Walter Eddington is calm and smooth as ever. "Prepare."
"Of course, Mr. Eddington. Of course."
The light winks out, The Mouth's circle of light vanishing.