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whumpcloud · 8 months

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Things End | People Change - Poisoned Blood

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content: heavy gore (insides burned, skull smashed in), vampire whumpee, captivity, starvation, muzzles, death wish

Vincent can smell it before they've even gotten down the stairs.

Blood blood blood blood blood. He feels like a newborn vampire again, desperate for the taste of the one thing he needs, willing to do anything, anything to get it, to feel the warmth and the life and the-

The door slams open and it's Sawyer (smoker, sir) and Ezekiel with the knives on his belt. Vincent looks up with wide eyes and a guttural scream escapes him at the sight of the red liquid in the bag. Sawyer leans down and grins, waving it in front of his face. The silver shackles don't allow him much movement, but he can't help himself, he needs it.

Sawyer steps back. "Settle down, bloodsucker."

Ezekiel rolls his eyes and pulls the muzzle from Vincent's face.

"Please, please please please!" Vincent begs, not caring in the slightest how undignified it is. "Please let me have it, please, please--"

"Shut up." Ezekiel kicks Vincent in the face so hard that all three of them can hear the crack. "Oh. Oops."

Vincent whimpers and holds still and silent. He can't risk angering them. There is blood, precious, precious blood in that bag, and all of his thoughts are consumed by the desperate need for it. And that means being grateful and obedient.

"Sit up," Sawyer orders.

Vincent scrambles onto his knees, looking up at the two men like a lost puppy. His eyes are fixed on the bag, body trembling in anticipation of getting it, of what he has to do for it.

Sawyer holds it out to him. "Here."

Vincent's eyebrows knit together. Is this a trick? Is this a dream? A hallucination? Blood blood blood blood blood. He can hear the human heartbeats thundering in his ears, but he has just enough awareness to know that fresh blood isn't an option, and they'd do things he can't even conceive of if he tried to take it.

Why is he just being offered the bag?

His body reacts first. He grabs the bag in his broken fingers and rips it open with his teeth. His lips and mouth are burning with what he assumes is raw need as he drinks and drinks and drinks.

The inside of his mouth is peeling and he can't stop.

Vincent doubles over, still swallowing, even as his throat makes disgusting sizzling sounds and the laughing rings in his ears. All too quickly, there's nothing left, and finally his mind is clear enough to realise that there is something in the blood that is burning him from the inside out.

He thinks to scream a few seconds too late – his vocal cords are already gone.

A horrid noise leaves the back of his throat, and Vincent scratches at his own body, following the burning sensation as his internal linings slough off. He's trying to beg despite it all, but he isn't able to form words anymore. There's a hole burning through his chest. Silver in his heart so that it can travel through the rest of his veins.

Could that kill him?

There's no space left to think about what a mercy death would be. He writhes on the floor and his vision swims as the burning in his chest becomes overwhelming, sharp and stabbing and his mouth opens in a silent scream that can't escape. It stops for a brief moment, then starts again just as suddenly and Vincent realises that it's healing him even as it burns. It almost feels like his heart is beating again, if a beating heart burned and bled and burned again. Well, Vincent supposes it did, in a way.

When it finally leaves his heart, what's left of the silver-poisoned blood begins to drip out of the cavity in his chest as Vincent shudders and shakes.

"Come on, you're wasting it," Ezekiel says, grinning. "You're so ungrateful."

Vincent wants to apologise, but of course, of course, he can't. He clutches the hole in his chest so that he can lick the blood from his hands, and that makes Sawyer burst out laughing until he can barely breathe. Vincent can barely find it in him to care. All he knows is that he's starving.

"Say thank you, parasite," Sawyer wheezes.

Vincent can feel his limbs seizing as the remnants of the poisoned blood make its way around his body. Say thank you. They know he can't, don't they? He tries anyway, just to keep them happy.

"Can't hear you," Sawyer says, kicking Vincent again, his boot catching in the cavity. Vincent's eyes roll back and he twitches like an electric current has just been shot through his body. He wishes that he could pass out, but a dead thing like him can only pass out from exhaustion.

"Speak up!" Ezekiel mocks, and Vincent digs his nails into his throat, as though that will restore his voice any faster. He'll be trapped in silence for weeks, if not months, if they even let his vocal cords regenerate at all.

No, they love to hear him beg too much.

"If you're gonna be disobedient and ungrateful then clearly you ain't learned a thing," Sawyer sighs.

Vincent mouths a series of pleas and nos and words that would be unintelligible if they could even be formed through his cracking, peeling lips. He just wants this to be over already, but there's going to be more.

He doesn't deserve for it to be over.

"Wait, I'll call Ains," Ezekiel says, and at this point Vincent must be drifting in and out of awareness, because it seems as if there's a conversation happening. He's getting used to not being all there. He prefers it.

Vincent lays there, twitching, shivering, as a conversation he can't quite focus on takes place. He's still starving. Every drop of blood was only used to heal the damage from the silver, and Vincent is sure it wouldn't have been enough if it was pure anyway.

"Don't worry, bloodsucker," Sawyer says, patting Vincent's head. "You'll be just fine in a moment."

Vincent doesn't want to know what that means, but he knows he's about to find out.

"You can do the honours," Ezekiel says, throwing a baseball bat at Sawyer.

Sawyer twirls it a little and does a few practice swings, before leaning over Vincent.

"You'll be just fine," Sawyer repeats, and lifts the bat.

Crunch. Vincent feels the side of his skull caving in. It isn't a sensation he should survive feeling.

"I don't think he's out," Ezekiel says. He sounds bored.

"I've got fuckin' noodle arms, just give it a minute."

Oh.

Vincent can almost imagine he hears his brain splattering over the floor in the instant that it does. The scream he wishes he could vocalise dies with his consciousness. He'll wake up, eventually, although he wishes desperately that he wouldn't. He will heal no matter what, so long as his heart remains intact.

Sawyer stares at the body he's created and sucks in a breath. The top half of the vampire's head is just bits and pieces in a puddle of brain matter. He didn't intend to hit that hard.

"That's... probably fine," Ezekiel shrugs.

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#polly's prose #things end | people change #vincent maddox #whump #whump writing #vampire whump #clary birthday piece is still being written promise but a dear friend had this idea so #sorry vincent ily really

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