Quell [WWF; The Brood]
Nov. 27th, 2018 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schizoauthoress_libraryTitle: Quell
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: set sometime between October 26, 1998 (official formation of the Brood) and February 1999 (when the Brood was feuding with the Ministry)
Warnings: strong language, vampires, mentions of blood and violence
Prompt/Fill: none
Word Count: 1839
Summary: Stucture and routine are important for the development of a young vampire. Also important is avoiding anything that will keep the young vampire from becoming an old vampire.
Note: part of the "Walking with Death" universe, set around the same time as Auscultate. The vampire lore is NOT from World of Darkness, because I'm keeping that fictional even within this fictional universe.
Word of the Day: dovetail, verb: 1. To join or fit together compactly or harmoniously.
2. In carpentry, a joint formed of one or more such tenons fitting tightlywithin corresponding mortises.
3. To join or fit together by means of a carpentry dovetail or dovetails.
originally posted (with much frightened wailing in the tags) to Tumblr
Quell
Christian was somewhat apprehensive when entering the main men's locker room for the first time. Before now, he and Gangrel hadn't been officially on the roster -- they'd gatecrashed a few WWF events, only trying to bring Edge back into their family. The drama had gone over well enough with the fans that those in charge wanted all the Brood as a wrestling stable. Christian was happy with all of that -- he and Edge had approached Gangrel (going by the Vampire Warrior at the time) to be turned into vampires for the express purpose of starting their professional wrestling careers. But he was still very new as a vampire, and felt unsure of his self control.
Christian walked in, spotted Edge, and immediately adjusted course to claim the locker space next to his vampiric brother. Another wrestler accidentally jostled him on the way, and Christian froze.
His instincts screamed at him -- prey! insolent prey! kill! feed! -- and he barely registered the mumbled apology from the man. Christian fought against the urge to jump on the prey --
'No, wrestler,' he thought desperately, 'Wrestlers are not prey!'
Then Gangrel was there. With no more than a firm hand on Christian's shoulder, Gangrel clearly communicated through their mental bond the unspoken command to remain still. Sire wants calm. Sire wants to blend in.
Christian leaned into the touch, just briefly, grateful for the way his vampiric sire's desires could override the violent impulses of his instincts. Gangrel's presence -- and more than that, the knowledge that he could trust the older vampire to have his best interests at heart -- helped Christian feel settled. The moment passed, and Christian continued to Edge's side.
Edge glared over Christian's shoulder at Gangrel, but said nothing. They all knew Edge's feelings on Gangrel asserting 'sire's rights'. Gangrel could, potentially, do far more than defuse Christian's instinct to regard all humans as prey. While he never had, the mere fact that Gangrel could infuriated Edge.
"Come on," Christian said, too soft for the mundane humans to hear, "you know I still need help keeping control."
Edge blinked.
"Once again, Edge," Gangrel said, just as softly, "I promised I'd never impose my will beyond helping you boys. Haven't I kept that promise?"
Edge regarded them both with a sour frown, replying at a normal, audible volume: "I don't care. Don't pull that shit on me."
The comment pulled curious looks from the others in the locker room. Gangrel laughed, seemingly unaffected by the scrutiny. Christian fought dual impulses -- both mortified and furious -- to either rip open the nearest human throat, or maybe just sink into the floor.
"Oh, I won't," Gangrel told Edge. He winked, and added, "Scout's honor!"
Edge stared for a moment, then shook his head in an attempt to hide his smile. "You liar. You were never a Boy Scout."
"Were you around in 1910?" Gangrel asked. "No! I could've been part of an original Boy Scout troop, for all you know."
Maybe it was the mental image of his sire as some curly headed, pudgy blond kid in a scouting uniform, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of having this conversation in front of so many confused, quiet witnesses. Either way, Edge lost the fight to supress his laughter, sitting down heavily on the nearby bench and howling. So Christian punched him on the shoulder, hard.
"Ow!" Edge was still snickering when he looked up into Christian's face. "Jackass! What was that for?"
"Because," Christian said. That was all he said.
Edge rolled his eyes. "Because you're a jackass."
Then he waved Gangrel over to the open space on his other side. Gangrel raised an eyebrow at that gesture. Edge often utilized Christian as a buffer -- physical or otherwise -- between himself and his sire, and deviations from that self-protective tendency were rare. But Gangrel said nothing, merely moving over to the locker that Edge indicated.
It felt like something had finally settled back into its proper place. Christian hoped it would last this time.
****
Things got easier as time went on. Other wrestlers might hit the gym in their free time between planning sessions for matches, commutes, and whatever else filled up their schedule -- Christian settled into his own routine. To outside eyes, his tendency to hit up bars or clubs near the arenas was nothing more than the hard partying ways of a young man, common to professional wrestlers on the road. It kept his coworkers safe, though. He felt less like ripping the limbs off anyone in the locker room if he took the edge off his ever-present blood hunger with a feeding before the night's event.
What helped even more was getting to know people in the locker room, as well as the backstage crew in general. Sure, Christian ended up earning a reputation for being kind of annoying -- and for being kind of an asshole whenever it suited him -- but these people knew him. Even better, he was able to think of them as 'people' rather than 'prey' as he got more and more social with them.
Christian liked it best when Edge joined him on the hunt -- their strengths complimented each other, as though they were always meant to be one hunting unit. Christian possessed a better innate sense of who made suitable prey, and Edge had the self control and the charm to get said prey lulled into a suggestable state. So Christian would notice exactly who in a group of friends could be easily lured away, and Edge could do the luring.
While Christian liked the flavor that fear and surprise lent to the blood, feeding without making a ruckus had its own benefits. While their first feedings had been on the unfortunate dregs of society -- humans who wouldn't be missed if the new vampires slipped up and drank too deeply -- under Gangrel's careful tutelage, both Edge and Christian had eventually mastered the art of drinking enough blood from a human to temporarily sate the blood hunger without killing that person. Feeding in that way from several humans in a night -- perhaps slipping into a dark, secluded corner of a dance club for what the mundanes assumed was a makeout session, for example -- allowed them to elude detection by those who hunted the hunters.
Vampire instincts tended, broadly speaking, to chaos and violence. As a newly turned vampire, Christian found pleasure in holding power over the prey, inflicting pain as he wished, and in ripping life from the fragile human bodies -- fast or slow, both ways had their appeal. He had not forgotten his life as a human, but there was an emotional disconnect between the human he had been and the creature he was now. Indulging his darker desires and deepening that disconnect would have led to the vicious streak so common among many vampire bloodlines.
That wasn't the way that members of the House of Keziah were expected to comport themselves. A discreet nature, self control, and the ability to work well even with non-vampiric allies were all points of pride in this bloodline.
Besides that, Gangrel was keen to point out, keeping troublesome elements away from the wrestling promotion they worked for would make them look good in the eyes of the boss.
Their vampiric activities were so covert, in fact, that when combined with the special ability of the House of Keziah, Edge and Christian appeared -- to their human coworkers -- to be nothing more than mundane young men playing a role.
Finding that out was pretty funny.
****
"Are you vampires or not?"
Christian only looked up from lacing his boots when he heard Gangrel cackle in response to the question.
"Come a little closer," Gangrel beckoned mockingly, "and I'll settle the question!"
It was only with conscious effort that vampires were able to blend in with humans. Left unchecked, there were a dozen little ways that they moved or spoke that alarmed the intuitive sense that humans had for noticing a predator. Val Venis was not immune to the effect, and whatever doubts he had were not enough to stop the fear that flared up when he met Gangrel's inhuman gaze. Christian could smell that fear.
Edge's eyes sought Christian's, and then neither could hold back their laughter at Val's expense.
"You guys go out in the sun!" Val exclaimed, affronted. "Vampires are supposed to catch fire in the sunlight, right?"
"Sure," Edge replied, with a casual shrug, "most do. How fast and how... explosive... varies from bloodline to bloodline, though."
"Then why don't you three?" Val questioned.
"Clean living," Christian supplied, straightfaced, as he sat up. Gangrel guffawed. Edge perked up, and Christian knew -- even without consulting their mild mental link -- what he was thinking of.
Edge laced his fingers together and propped his chin up on his hands, flashed their fellow wrestler his most charming smile, and said, "It's like a great sage once said..." Then he leaned back and elbowed Christian gently as a cue.
Together, Christian and Edge recited: "Say your prayers, take your vitamins, do your exercises, and believe in yourself!"
Across the locker room, the Undertaker stopped digging though his bag and shot a glare at the Brood. "Shut up. I heard that crap enough when Hogan was with the company. I don't wanna hear it when he's gone."
"Sorry, Taker!" Christian said immediately. A predator knows when a bigger, badder beast has shown up, after all. Val edged away from the Brood, unwilling to be caught in the crossfire if anything happened.
"Little Hulkamaniacs grow up to be big ones?" Edge offered, hoping that wouldn't annoy the revenant more.
The Undertaker turned the full force of his stare on the tallest of the vampires. Edge quailed under the scrutiny. At that reaction, the Undertaker's mouth twitched, briefly showing the slightest of smiles. "I can forgive the little ones for being annoying. Not so much the big 'uns, who ought to know better."
Christian folded both hands over his heart and exclaimed dramatically, "I'm wounded!"
The Undertaker turned his head just enough to look at Christian, and said simply, "You could be."
"If I keep them from yammering about Hogan, will you please stop threatening my boys?" Gangrel asked, amusement obvious in his tone. He didn't flinch in the slightest when the Undertaker's cold eyes swept over him -- instead, Gangrel grinned as though he weren't bothered at all.
The Undertaker considered the question, then nodded gravely. "I can accept those terms. If you can get them to shut up."
"Shutting up," Christian piped up. Gangrel snorted.
Edge mimed pulling a zipper closed over his lips.
The Undertaker watched them for a little while longer, then rolled his eyes and went back to searching his bag for... whatever it was he'd been looking for. Once the eye contact was broken, Christian gave a little sigh, feeling the tension drain out of the room.
If there was anyone who could give even a vampire a chill, the Undertaker was it. Only a very stupid vampire would try to cross him.
*-*-*-*-*
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: set sometime between October 26, 1998 (official formation of the Brood) and February 1999 (when the Brood was feuding with the Ministry)
Warnings: strong language, vampires, mentions of blood and violence
Prompt/Fill: none
Word Count: 1839
Summary: Stucture and routine are important for the development of a young vampire. Also important is avoiding anything that will keep the young vampire from becoming an old vampire.
Note: part of the "Walking with Death" universe, set around the same time as Auscultate. The vampire lore is NOT from World of Darkness, because I'm keeping that fictional even within this fictional universe.
Word of the Day: dovetail, verb: 1. To join or fit together compactly or harmoniously.
2. In carpentry, a joint formed of one or more such tenons fitting tightlywithin corresponding mortises.
3. To join or fit together by means of a carpentry dovetail or dovetails.
originally posted (with much frightened wailing in the tags) to Tumblr
Quell
Christian was somewhat apprehensive when entering the main men's locker room for the first time. Before now, he and Gangrel hadn't been officially on the roster -- they'd gatecrashed a few WWF events, only trying to bring Edge back into their family. The drama had gone over well enough with the fans that those in charge wanted all the Brood as a wrestling stable. Christian was happy with all of that -- he and Edge had approached Gangrel (going by the Vampire Warrior at the time) to be turned into vampires for the express purpose of starting their professional wrestling careers. But he was still very new as a vampire, and felt unsure of his self control.
Christian walked in, spotted Edge, and immediately adjusted course to claim the locker space next to his vampiric brother. Another wrestler accidentally jostled him on the way, and Christian froze.
His instincts screamed at him -- prey! insolent prey! kill! feed! -- and he barely registered the mumbled apology from the man. Christian fought against the urge to jump on the prey --
'No, wrestler,' he thought desperately, 'Wrestlers are not prey!'
Then Gangrel was there. With no more than a firm hand on Christian's shoulder, Gangrel clearly communicated through their mental bond the unspoken command to remain still. Sire wants calm. Sire wants to blend in.
Christian leaned into the touch, just briefly, grateful for the way his vampiric sire's desires could override the violent impulses of his instincts. Gangrel's presence -- and more than that, the knowledge that he could trust the older vampire to have his best interests at heart -- helped Christian feel settled. The moment passed, and Christian continued to Edge's side.
Edge glared over Christian's shoulder at Gangrel, but said nothing. They all knew Edge's feelings on Gangrel asserting 'sire's rights'. Gangrel could, potentially, do far more than defuse Christian's instinct to regard all humans as prey. While he never had, the mere fact that Gangrel could infuriated Edge.
"Come on," Christian said, too soft for the mundane humans to hear, "you know I still need help keeping control."
Edge blinked.
"Once again, Edge," Gangrel said, just as softly, "I promised I'd never impose my will beyond helping you boys. Haven't I kept that promise?"
Edge regarded them both with a sour frown, replying at a normal, audible volume: "I don't care. Don't pull that shit on me."
The comment pulled curious looks from the others in the locker room. Gangrel laughed, seemingly unaffected by the scrutiny. Christian fought dual impulses -- both mortified and furious -- to either rip open the nearest human throat, or maybe just sink into the floor.
"Oh, I won't," Gangrel told Edge. He winked, and added, "Scout's honor!"
Edge stared for a moment, then shook his head in an attempt to hide his smile. "You liar. You were never a Boy Scout."
"Were you around in 1910?" Gangrel asked. "No! I could've been part of an original Boy Scout troop, for all you know."
Maybe it was the mental image of his sire as some curly headed, pudgy blond kid in a scouting uniform, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of having this conversation in front of so many confused, quiet witnesses. Either way, Edge lost the fight to supress his laughter, sitting down heavily on the nearby bench and howling. So Christian punched him on the shoulder, hard.
"Ow!" Edge was still snickering when he looked up into Christian's face. "Jackass! What was that for?"
"Because," Christian said. That was all he said.
Edge rolled his eyes. "Because you're a jackass."
Then he waved Gangrel over to the open space on his other side. Gangrel raised an eyebrow at that gesture. Edge often utilized Christian as a buffer -- physical or otherwise -- between himself and his sire, and deviations from that self-protective tendency were rare. But Gangrel said nothing, merely moving over to the locker that Edge indicated.
It felt like something had finally settled back into its proper place. Christian hoped it would last this time.
****
Things got easier as time went on. Other wrestlers might hit the gym in their free time between planning sessions for matches, commutes, and whatever else filled up their schedule -- Christian settled into his own routine. To outside eyes, his tendency to hit up bars or clubs near the arenas was nothing more than the hard partying ways of a young man, common to professional wrestlers on the road. It kept his coworkers safe, though. He felt less like ripping the limbs off anyone in the locker room if he took the edge off his ever-present blood hunger with a feeding before the night's event.
What helped even more was getting to know people in the locker room, as well as the backstage crew in general. Sure, Christian ended up earning a reputation for being kind of annoying -- and for being kind of an asshole whenever it suited him -- but these people knew him. Even better, he was able to think of them as 'people' rather than 'prey' as he got more and more social with them.
Christian liked it best when Edge joined him on the hunt -- their strengths complimented each other, as though they were always meant to be one hunting unit. Christian possessed a better innate sense of who made suitable prey, and Edge had the self control and the charm to get said prey lulled into a suggestable state. So Christian would notice exactly who in a group of friends could be easily lured away, and Edge could do the luring.
While Christian liked the flavor that fear and surprise lent to the blood, feeding without making a ruckus had its own benefits. While their first feedings had been on the unfortunate dregs of society -- humans who wouldn't be missed if the new vampires slipped up and drank too deeply -- under Gangrel's careful tutelage, both Edge and Christian had eventually mastered the art of drinking enough blood from a human to temporarily sate the blood hunger without killing that person. Feeding in that way from several humans in a night -- perhaps slipping into a dark, secluded corner of a dance club for what the mundanes assumed was a makeout session, for example -- allowed them to elude detection by those who hunted the hunters.
Vampire instincts tended, broadly speaking, to chaos and violence. As a newly turned vampire, Christian found pleasure in holding power over the prey, inflicting pain as he wished, and in ripping life from the fragile human bodies -- fast or slow, both ways had their appeal. He had not forgotten his life as a human, but there was an emotional disconnect between the human he had been and the creature he was now. Indulging his darker desires and deepening that disconnect would have led to the vicious streak so common among many vampire bloodlines.
That wasn't the way that members of the House of Keziah were expected to comport themselves. A discreet nature, self control, and the ability to work well even with non-vampiric allies were all points of pride in this bloodline.
Besides that, Gangrel was keen to point out, keeping troublesome elements away from the wrestling promotion they worked for would make them look good in the eyes of the boss.
Their vampiric activities were so covert, in fact, that when combined with the special ability of the House of Keziah, Edge and Christian appeared -- to their human coworkers -- to be nothing more than mundane young men playing a role.
Finding that out was pretty funny.
****
"Are you vampires or not?"
Christian only looked up from lacing his boots when he heard Gangrel cackle in response to the question.
"Come a little closer," Gangrel beckoned mockingly, "and I'll settle the question!"
It was only with conscious effort that vampires were able to blend in with humans. Left unchecked, there were a dozen little ways that they moved or spoke that alarmed the intuitive sense that humans had for noticing a predator. Val Venis was not immune to the effect, and whatever doubts he had were not enough to stop the fear that flared up when he met Gangrel's inhuman gaze. Christian could smell that fear.
Edge's eyes sought Christian's, and then neither could hold back their laughter at Val's expense.
"You guys go out in the sun!" Val exclaimed, affronted. "Vampires are supposed to catch fire in the sunlight, right?"
"Sure," Edge replied, with a casual shrug, "most do. How fast and how... explosive... varies from bloodline to bloodline, though."
"Then why don't you three?" Val questioned.
"Clean living," Christian supplied, straightfaced, as he sat up. Gangrel guffawed. Edge perked up, and Christian knew -- even without consulting their mild mental link -- what he was thinking of.
Edge laced his fingers together and propped his chin up on his hands, flashed their fellow wrestler his most charming smile, and said, "It's like a great sage once said..." Then he leaned back and elbowed Christian gently as a cue.
Together, Christian and Edge recited: "Say your prayers, take your vitamins, do your exercises, and believe in yourself!"
Across the locker room, the Undertaker stopped digging though his bag and shot a glare at the Brood. "Shut up. I heard that crap enough when Hogan was with the company. I don't wanna hear it when he's gone."
"Sorry, Taker!" Christian said immediately. A predator knows when a bigger, badder beast has shown up, after all. Val edged away from the Brood, unwilling to be caught in the crossfire if anything happened.
"Little Hulkamaniacs grow up to be big ones?" Edge offered, hoping that wouldn't annoy the revenant more.
The Undertaker turned the full force of his stare on the tallest of the vampires. Edge quailed under the scrutiny. At that reaction, the Undertaker's mouth twitched, briefly showing the slightest of smiles. "I can forgive the little ones for being annoying. Not so much the big 'uns, who ought to know better."
Christian folded both hands over his heart and exclaimed dramatically, "I'm wounded!"
The Undertaker turned his head just enough to look at Christian, and said simply, "You could be."
"If I keep them from yammering about Hogan, will you please stop threatening my boys?" Gangrel asked, amusement obvious in his tone. He didn't flinch in the slightest when the Undertaker's cold eyes swept over him -- instead, Gangrel grinned as though he weren't bothered at all.
The Undertaker considered the question, then nodded gravely. "I can accept those terms. If you can get them to shut up."
"Shutting up," Christian piped up. Gangrel snorted.
Edge mimed pulling a zipper closed over his lips.
The Undertaker watched them for a little while longer, then rolled his eyes and went back to searching his bag for... whatever it was he'd been looking for. Once the eye contact was broken, Christian gave a little sigh, feeling the tension drain out of the room.
If there was anyone who could give even a vampire a chill, the Undertaker was it. Only a very stupid vampire would try to cross him.
*-*-*-*-*
Tags:
- c: christian cage [jay reso],
- c: edge [adam copeland],
- c: gangrel/vampire warrior [david heath],
- c: the undertaker [mark william calaway],
- challenge: personal goal 2018,
- challenge: word of the day 2012,
- fandom: tv: pro wrestling: wwe,
- format: one-shot,
- series: walking with death: connatural,
- status: open ended,
- the brood
no subject
Date: 2018-11-28 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-28 07:40 pm (UTC)Thank you for giving it a chance even if you didn't recognize the main folks. I'm glad you enjoyed the 'hiding in plain sight' aspect.