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Pixie Led Vitals!

Spike

UN: Happy_Meals_on_legs

COURT

SPRING

DORM

301

Message @happy_meal_on_legs

🦋 Player

Name: Lin
Active Times/Pace: EST/Moderate usually
Brackets/Prose: Prose, but will match.
Offensive Subjects & Triggers to Avoid: Animal Death/animal cruelty. Maternal-death = Please talk to me. Sexual Assault=Please talk to me.

🦋 In Character

Physical Affection: Only with CR built up.
Physical Violence: Yes please! No killing or maiming without conversation
Relationships: Must have CR built up.
NPC Interaction: Yes please.
Psychic & Psionic Information: Buffyverse-Vamps can not be mind-read, nor can they provide 'energy' via brain-sucking type abilities. Please PM me for details and information.
Magical Information: Vampire, reads as slightly demonic. Vampires considered "evil".
Medical Information: Feels cool to the touch, must have mammal blood regularly to thrive/be in 'good' health. Undead.
Offensive Subjects & Triggers Associated with This Character: Language, Violence, Assault, Death, Murder, Stalking.

🦋 Out Of Character

Backtagging: Yes please
Threadhopping: Ask but usually yes.
Fourthwalling: Please no.
Not Interested In: Open to most anything with a conversation between players.

Here is my opt-in/opt-out and HMD post. All comments screened for privacy. Please feel free to use.

--Charm: the user can seduce or convince anyone they speak to for long enough; at its most powerful it can also be used to brainwash (Bought on Credit owed.)

-----So I will not have Spike use charm on anyone ICly without OOC permission. Please see my Opt-in/Opt-out Post here for more details.

--Large Wooden Trunk: Bargained for in the marketplace. Big enough for clothes and weapons. Contains alcohol, dagger, sword, hand-cross bow (and ammo), knife on occasion.

--Items: Gem of Amara (ring), Skyshift pendant,

--Deaths: 1 (Event #3)

About Vampires in the Buffyverse Canon: Commonalities: They drink blood. Mingling their blood with a victim creates a new vampire. They burn in daylight. Holy Water and other Christianity based weapons hurt but don't destroy. Fire works. Stake through the heart works real well. Especially vulnerable to wood. They don't require oxygen to breathe, they don't generate life-force, do have minimal blood flow, and dislike garlic. They do require an invitation to enter a private dwelling.

Here's the big difference: Vampires in the Buffyverse are a hybrid of human and demon. They're considered half-breeds. Unnatural. Looked down on. They lack a 'soul'; basically the human dies, and a 'demon' takes up residence in their body, retains their memories and core personality traits, and lacks inhibitions. They can not have their mind read, they do not give off 'life-energy', they are considered impure (energy-wise), and are useless for purposes of 'brain-sucking' of energy.

When ready to bite, they will often shift to their 'game face'. Their brows become more pronounced and protrude a bit, their eyes turn yellow, they have nasty fangs. Here, have an example.

Here's the link to the wiki entry.

General Warnings
Hi, William the Bloody, aka Spike, is a vampire. And not one of the happy fun shiny ones. There will be language. There will be cheekiness and snark and attitude. There will be irrelevance and taking the piss out of things. There will be violence. Please feel free to talk to me about any and all of the above. I'm not looking to have him kick puppies (and honestly if you're kicking puppies for no reason he might just kick you), but he's definitely an antagonistic punk.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[There is some more typing, before Spike puts the leaf aside to finish getting dressed. Shirt on and tucked in, then belt as well. Boots can wait, while he haphazardly folds the towel and places it nearby. Pulling the cover up so the bed is at least loosely made. ]

Know most people don't see me as a thinker. Truth is, blood doesn't usually rush to my brain, but that doesn't mean I don't know the value of learning. Think I surprised Tommy-Boy though. In a good way.

[The leather duster is moved from where it lay on the trunk to on the bed, and Spike crouches down to open it. It's not 'full' yet, but there's a leather bag, along with some weapons. A hand-cross bow, a dagger, a knife, and a long sword. Also several bottles of liquor, as Spike is examining them before pulling out the whisky and a shot glass. Turning to Regis, he holds up the other in obvious question.]

Excellent choice.

[Regis can't help but grin in approval as he sets the book he had been leafing through aside.]

It's a shame people judge so quickly on appearances, but I suppose it is their loss. I learned a long time ago that the sharpest minds are hidden behind the most unlikely of facades. Age isn't even the factor so many make it out to be. There are far more people than it seems who are born with the wisdom of the ages.

[And then there are those like Spike who look young, but have lived much longer than it seems.]

Have you found anything useful in the books yet?

[Spike pours them both a shot of whisky, bring the bottle out fully from the trunk. A moment looking between the two, and he pulls out the long sword and grins at Regis. Pointing to it, then to himself, then to Regis, with a mock swing (nowhere near the sitting man). Trying to convey that he no longer needs to 'borrow' weapons for sparring.

That done, the blade is replaced, the trunk's lid is closed and Spike settles himself on it as a seat. Picking up his leaf and typing with his legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles.]

Just mentions of rifts in the past with no real reasons stated, and increasingly flowery and esoteric metaphors. Been trying to apply a poet's way of thinking, and still not getting far.

Oh, that looks quite well made! I can't wait to see you put it to use. Did one of the Fae make it or one of us?

[Regis accepts his drink, waiting for Spike to settle himself before continuing.]

When going over the writings of my ancestors along with the myths and legends of my world when I was younger, I found after a certain amount of time even a writer or a historian's eyes start having trouble pulling the truth from all the flowery additions. I suppose it is a good way as any to keep secrets secret.

Does that mean you're a poet then?

[Spike considered whether he wanted to answer that. Eyeing Regis suspiciously for a bit, before he hesitantly nodded. Then typed on his Leaf.]

Was. Not a good one though. Had a decent education for my time, due to my class standing. Couldn't stand all the rules, or the two-faced ness and judgement. Was glad to leave it all behind when I was turned.

Got the sword at the blacksmith's. Tony Stark made the knife I carry though. Also have a dagger and a hand-crossbow, and saving for a regular crossbow. Possibly a hand-axe. Can't have too many weapons just in case, y'know?

Edited 2025-06-24 04:28 (UTC)

Maurice is on a mission.

He waits until nobody is (visibly) around before he starts his project. He's found an apron (to get into the zone) and a few ingredients. Now, he stands over the counter with his brow furrowed as he looks between a bag of flour and the salt. He knows something else goes into it. Water, sure, but something else...it's been so long since he cooked in the kitchen with his mom. Think, Maurice, think...he urges himself.

Spike has been keeping odd hours. Not that he ever kept regular hours really, but he's back to a bit of a nocturnal schedule after his encounter with the Kraken. Mostly. It's at least meant his lack of voice isn't much of an issue.

Not that he wasn't making do anyways, and could be expressive.

Still, it was a meal time of some kind. Breakfast, or dinner, he wasn't sure. But walking into the kitchen when there's a lack of activity is something he's used to. Or light activity (also used to), in the case of Maurice with an apron. And stuff.

Coming up, he taps the other on the shoulder. Points to the stuff, and tilts his head in hopefully obvious question.

Maurice tries not to holler. He'd been in the tortilla zone so firmly trying to remember what was the glue that held God's perfect meat delivery vehicle together. He stiffens and whirls around like he's been caught doing something he isn't supposed to.

When he sees that it's his mentor, he relaxes. "Shit man, you scared me."

The head tilt tells him the answer to the question he would have asked. Damn. Poor Spike. Maurice doesn't talk to a ton of people, but he knows he'd still be pretty fucked up over losing his voice. Spike can't even say funny English swears.

"I'm, uh, tryin' to make something from home to show somebody."

Spike is unimpressed with Maurice's reaction, and it shows. All he does is roll his eyes though. And look at the stuff on the counter, then Maurice again. Tilting his head AND raising an eyebrow this time to be more specific in his unspoken question.

And that, in turn, actually gets the fledgling to roll his own eyes. HES JUST TRYING TO LIVE, SPIKE. GOSH. At the unasked question, he elaborates.

"I'm gonna make a burrito. But I gotta make a tortilla first. It's been forever and I'm kinda stumped."

If he wants to live, he needs better situational awareness then. With Maurice's answer though, Spike takes another look at the ingredients prepped. Studying it, before heading for what is, essentially, a refrigerator. It looks nothing like modern fridges and more like an old Ice-box Chest and it uses magic instead of constantly replacing the ice. In any case, Spike grabs a small box with white things nestled in it and brings that over.

Eggs. Maurice is missing eggs. An oh-so-eloquent new eyebrow raise, asking if the other gets it. Tortillas were a type of dough, and that usually eggs and flour and water at least.

Maurice didn't take Spike as a guy who knew how to make tortillas from scratch, but he reminds himself that his mentor is old as balls so he's probably had time to learn anything a dude could be interested in.

The eggs appear and Maurice brings a hand to his forehead. "EGGS! DUH! Thanks, man. You want a burrito?"

A head shake in the negative. Mostly because Maurice has yet to make a tortilla even. Spike can't really remember where he learned the basics about a dough's ingredients. Didn't matter though really. Instead he heads for the cellar and comes back up with a jar of blood. Clearly getting his own food, as he grabs a saucepan and a mug.

"Alrighty," Maurice says as he sets to work. He does glance over when Spike
has his blood. The sight of the sauce pan wrinkles his nose. He still can't
imagine cooking his blood or putting it into anything. It was just too
weird. His new tail switches at his heels as he refocuses. Luckily, he
remembers the texture of the dough. Something that can be pressed. He
doesn't have a press but a couple plates will do just fine. Maurice forgets
that rolling pins exist. Once he gets that going, he rolls out the dough
and starts pressing.

What he gets is a VERY flat but fairly familiar smelling tortilla. It tears
a little as he peels it off the plate and holds it up.

"Looks like a tortilla to me...what are you, uh, makin' over there?"

This time Spike isn't adding anything to his blood. Just heating it up to a temperature as close to 'human' as he can get it. Not that he can't have it cold, but he prefers it hot. It's also just about done, so he kills the heat and brings the pan over for Maurice to see.

Nothing but blood by the look and smell.

Enough for the other vampire to verify it, before Spike is carefully pouring it in the mug. The pan goes in the sink with water running for a quick rinse while he grabs his mug. Bringing it up for a drink, and his face changes in that strange naturally-unnatural way. Clearly the elder vampire is pleased, and in a decent mood. Comfortable with his game-face, as it's just himself and Maurice. Usually Spike wore his human-face to make others comfortable.

Maurice leans over to observe. Okay, so he's not putting wheatchex or whatever the fuck it was called in it. Cool. He gives Spike a thumbs up before taking his turn at the stove with a small pile of tortillas.

One at a time, he cooks them. The first one comes out a little doughy but the others puff up the way they're supposed to. He whistles through the gap in his teeth as he works through the batch.

"Nancy said they have cumin here, so they'll be real good. I thought maybe they wouldn't since this is, you know, another world or whatever. Kinda random all the stuff they do and don't have in common."

In the absence of Spike's words, Maurice fills the space.

Spike is focused on his mug, still in his game face and willing to listen. Besides, he's just waiting to be done with his dinner before he'll wash the dishes he used. Not that he could actually voice any complaints or disagreement right then anyways, given his lack at the moment.

He's well enough away from the stove and Maurice in case something goes wrong. But close enough if he needs to do something. As long as it's not put out fires. He's very much watching in case Maurice sets something on fire.

[Regis waits patiently to see if Spike is going to answer his questions. Whether or not he answers is always his choice. Friends don't demand answers from each other unless it's a do or die situation.]

There are days when I wish I could leave all the two-facedness and judgement of the upper class behind. I can't say that I blame you at all there.

[And suddenly he understands why Spike felt like he had been born into a better life when he became a vampire. The freedom must have been worth it alone.

An amused grin crosses Regis' face as Spike lists his ever growing inventory of weapons.]

Well, you've seen my inventory. I'm hardly going to fault anyone for having a stock of weapons to defend themselves with. This does mean that soon we can liven up our spars a little. It's been ages since I've used the Bow of the Clever or the Conqueror's Axe. That axe would be quite a bit larger than a hand-axe, though.

[Spike looked interested, and then typed on his Leaf.]

No lying, I've been wanting to use that axe myself really. You've got a good inventory.

Edited 2025-06-29 01:26 (UTC)

Regis nods. Considering those weapons came from his fellow kings and queens, they would have had the best weapons available. Making them magical just was an upgrade.

"What I have isn't the actual weapon itself, but one could say part of its soul. That is how Noctis can have the same weapons as I do at the same time. We each passed the trial to claim it for use.

"We can't really put you through a trial here, but maybe if I talk to the Conqueror, he will allow you to use it for a little while. It's worth a try."

He doesn't know of anyone in the line who has tried this, but then again, none of them had been swept away to a Fae land either. With how odd things are here, it can't hurt to try.

[Spike types on his leaf.]

Magical trial bullshit to prove you're worthy and the like. I've seen it before.

You come out of everything alright?

[Spike couldn't remember seeing Regis in the water. He does remember seeing Noctis.

It was more physical to be honest.

[Not that it really matters. It still comes down to magical BS in the end.]

Lots of fighting of monsters some of which were magical.

[He shrugs then, moving onto Spike's question.]

I didn't go all the way down. I thought it would be wise for someone to stay around mid-depth to help those who got hurt or were caught by the cursed items floating about. When you didn't surface, I regretted not going down farther, though I suspect I wouldn't have been much help against what took you down.

[It could only have been the Kraken, Regis has no doubt about that.]

Edited (Messed up my formatting) 2025-06-29 02:36 (UTC)

[Spike listened, and nodded, but also chuckled. Which was odd to do silently.]

Physical trial doesn't mean it's not more magic BS. I've heard of those kind of deals before. Legends, back where I come from. Again--got to prove you're worthy and shit.

I just hope I made some difference. It......

[Spike pauses in his typing, and shows Regis what he has while he thinks.]

I'm sure you did. I by no means know everyone here, but I only know of one other person who was seriously hurt and no one else who was killed. That means a lot considering how much was stacked against us by the Fae.

[To give Spike some time to finish putting his thoughts together, Regis speaks just a little longer.]

The frustrating thing about doing good deeds is that you don't always know if you made a difference or not, but as long as your intention was good and you tried as hard as you could you should be proud of what you did.

[Spike rakes his fingers through his hair, then goes back to typing.]

Not looking for praise, just want to know my getting eaten wasn't in vain. I've fought a lot of things in my time, but I was in that thing's home environment and it had a major size advantage. Don't think I'll get nightmares but I've got some pretty unpleasant memories. We vampires are...well, where I'm from, we're pretty durable. Takes a lot to kill us, and pain doesn't stop us.

[Spike is pretty sure Regis could figure out why that'd be a disadvantage in this case.]

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