synanthrope | (no subject)

(no subject)

I trust everyone's gone back to their original genders and stowed their memories back up behind safe walls for now.

Tick-tock, listen to the clock.

And as for the health of those, are people still sick? I'm hungry, a girl needs to eat, and sick people taste terrible

[Private to Nigel | unhackable]

I'll put them somewhere special.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Live fast, die young.

Half of you can die and the other half can live on.

Only the sturdier half, though. Kill this human body and the sluagh dies with her, kill the sluagh and the human lives on. The world seems to have rather outgrown us, is the thing. The banal world is like a slow poison, or a cancer. Some long disease that always wins.

But what about you, my mysterious friend?

[A consideration, for a moment]

If ninety percent of me is killed, ten percent can continue on as one hundred.

That's remarkable. I think we can agree by pure numbers you've definitely won the advantage--you have your purpose and your survival, and I'm all shadows and string.

I would not be pleased, if that happened.

And I would be very hungry.

What happens if you are Embraced?

Oh, as a vampire? The body dies, and so does the sluagh. Just because the body keeps walking and talking doesn't change that. The new creature almost always forgets what they were, although you do hear stories of it being otherwise.

I cannot be Embraced.

I also can't scream, which is a sluagh particularity, and I subsist on half-bad food. Church bells make me sneeze, a horseshoe over a door makes me very uncomfortable with going inside, and any kind of cold iron will quite painfully murder me or make an effective bond, depending on someone's inclinations and the way the metal is fashioned. I think that's the extent of my supernatural weaknesses, all of which are fairly common knowledge to folklore.

Iron.

I thought that would be a myth.

If you hit a werewolf with silver, it burns.

Cold wrought iron, that's the important part. It's much less common these days, thus people imagine we're immune to all iron. It hardly matters, a regular bullet is much more efficient, as are all kinds of conventionally forged weapons.

I actually have a few iron burns myself. Perhaps the werewolves and I ought to compare.

Only if you enjoy being told you're a weakling.

Ah, yes. Grr smash grr, rawr rawr warriors of the Earth?

Death to the Wyrm, of course.

All praise Fenrir, our destroying wolf god.

I refuse.

Very wise, he's a rather mangy thing, I imagine.

They are all mangy things.

Now, Miss Saya, they may almost all be dangerous lunatics, but I've only seen a few with actual mange. Unless you mean it more figuratively.

Werewolves are dirty things. Dirty, dangerous, and controlled by their rage. And stupid.

Sometimes I have this odd impression you're not terribly fond of them.

I don't think it's an odd impression to have.

You really do make me smile, it's terrible.

I didn't think smiles were terrible.

They're not, usually, but you do bring out the devil in me.

Do I?

(no subject)

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