Bad Blood

[mordacita]

Characters: Rafa and Kavinsky
Summary: Rafa makes a vampire out of Kavinsky.
Date(s): 19 August (evening)
Warnings/Notes: Blood, vampire biting/turning, bad language, sexual themes. Kavinsky in general. Proceed with caution!

Rafa waits until the sun dips behind the trees. He slides his sunglasses from his face and heads out, his path set. This has been coming for months; for years, even centuries, as far as he is concerned, but for months from Kavinsky's point of view. Rafa's blood feels hot with anticipation, with the knowledge of what he's about to do. He has been thinking of Kavinsky has his fledgling for quite some time, but until tonight, that has only been a name.

Now he will make it real.

He arrives in silence, as the evening darkens behind him. He doesn't knock at any door, but climbs the building to stop at Kavinsky's window. His tap of the glass should be expected; they'd planned this night, and this time. If anything, Rafa is slightly early.

Unusually for him, he carries a bag. Inside is a change of clothes, and several bottles of blood from the machine Kavinsky had given him. There's no better test for it than this; Kavinsky will need a lot of blood tonight, and all things being fair, Rafa will too. The clothes he's wearing are notably plain and loose on him, and in paler colours than he likes; he doesn't expect them to be wearable for much longer. His hair is pulled back for convenience. Perching comfortably at the window, he waits to be granted entry.

Comments

good blood you mean c:

[pillz]

[kavinsky arrives in a moment. he looks less wasted than he has been in days past and proportionately more uncomfortable. circles under his eyes, but not too much thinner. it helps that he'd been taking care of himself in the months and weeks before xistentia, built up some good health habits before the latest round of gay drama hit him, apocalypse style.

he pulls the window open. behind him, his house is all lovely wood and chrome, a sleek modern style very different from the tall, funny crowded brick home he'd built with the boys in eudio. which stands to reason. his recent taste in roommates is different too: there's the sound of a woman padding around through the further reaches of the building.

it might be rude to get turned into a vampire while your roommate is home, but kavinsky's manners were always awful.] Sup, mom, [he says. he kisses rafa on the cheek and holds his arm. the room smells more like cigarettes and tequila than he does. the bed is unmade, the television leaning precariously backward on the wall, flickering with inscrutable images.]

Night is young, huh?