Tom Hanniger Open RP Post

[tom_hanniger]

Comments

any universe or something new idek

[lightgunhustler]

Re: any universe or something new idek

[righthemisphere]

Soooo hi it's been six years. You alive?

8}

[unbreachable]

[tom_hanniger]

Gasping. Aching. Haunted.

Bleeding.

Tom's dead. Axel said it himself. Dead and gone and bloody on the walls of a tunnel deep underground with all the rest of the dead. That's where he belongs and as far as anyone know that's where he is. Of course they'll find the search and rescue crewman's body at some point and nothing that looks like Tom Hanniger, but that isn't his problem anymore.

The business is done. Was done. Almost done. Revenge was had.. mostly. But the person Harry wants revenge on most in the world is the body he inhabits and the friction has forced a violent equilibrium of oil and water controlling two arms and two legs and one heart. The circumstances of his possession were as such that he can not leave on his own. And he would never be able to inhabit another form. So he if wants to stay alive- and he does- he has to keep Tom breathing.

Which is a problem at the moment as they lurch into the forest, bleeding from the gunshot through his side. The pain is something awful but Harry keeps going. He needs to get to safety.

Whatever safety means in a hellhole like this. Can't go to the authority. Can't go to the hospital. Can't really take care of them, himself. The car, though. that's close. They'd parked just on the other side of the mine.

So shaky, crusty, blood covered hands rattle the key of his- their- Bronco into the ignition and they roll away unnoticed in the chaos.

And he drives. He gets on the road and he drives North, avoiding highways and sticking to quiet, forest roads looking for viable shelter. A cabin. A campground. A lonely looking house. Anything. Anything at all.

And then the gas tank is down to the wire and there's very little blood in his own body, Harry pulls over on the side of the dirt road, cuts the engine, and stumbles out of the truck. He's dizzy and cold and the pain is taking space in every cell of their body.

When he walks it's half on needles and half on clouds. They're shutting down. He think's there's a building up ahead.. maybe not. A door? Could just be a tree it's getting so hard to see. It's getting so hard to breathe.

The next time he falls it's into the old boards of a little cabin's porch. And this time when they go down, they go down for good.

[unbreachable]

He'd picked the little cabin in the middle of nowhere, buried in the woods for a reason. No one bothered him here, and no one showed up at his doorstep unannounced. The only contact he has is with the delivery driver - a man that is like Raleigh - who leaves his 'order' by the front steps once a week. It's an expense, and one that he normally wouldn't have money for, but Raleigh is...

Unpredictable. Wild. Angry. Prone to reckless behavior and choices that get people killed.

He's been banished by Stacker himself, but even that old asshole knew that Raleigh Becket needed some kind of looking after - so the deliveries come with no charge. If Raleigh were to find his own way, he'd leave a trail of bodies, there no doubt in Stacker's mind. It would probably be smart to put him down and just get it over with, but Stacker had never had the heart and Raleigh'd never had the guts.

So here he was, in bum fuck upstate New York, living in a rickety ass cabin, occupying himself with books, languages, drawing, astro-photography, rare nightblooming flowers, and making sure the roof of this old place doesn't fall in on his head. He's an affectionate, needy man, but he's isolated and alone for his own safety and those of others. It's better this way. How can he be around people, knowing what he is, and the things he's done?

He can't.

His day to day is routine - sleep when he can, wander when he can't, pace anxiously and wait for nightfall so he can stretch his legs and escape the four walls of his house. When he opens his door to go for a run that evening, he's not expecting someone to be on his porch, and he's certainly not expecting a bleeding, mostly dead, someone.

"Fuck," he says, when he nearly trips over the prone body. He can smell it, and his delivery isn't due until tomorrow, and he's out. The smell is overpowering, and hits him in the face like a mack truck.

"Fuck," he says again, fingers flexing, curling, looking down and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them. How is he supposed to turn down a meal so perfectly dropped in his lap? He can't.

He kneels down, glancing around out of habit, and scoops the warm body into his arms before hauling him inside. He's damn sure not gonna do it outside, just in case. The man is dead weight in Raleigh's arms, but he isn't dead, which actually surprises him. His pulse was so low Raleigh initially couldn't hear it, but now that he's got him gathered up, it's there. It's faint - fluttering and fading, he's dying - but it's there.

"I could save you," he says, setting the body on his large kitchen table, talking conversationally to him like they're old friends. There's likely too little blood in the man for him to be remotely conscious, so he's not expecting a response. A cursory check reveals the source of all the blood - it's on Raleigh's fingers now, on his hands as he gently peels back clothing to inspect the bullet wound that's leaking. "In any other situation, with anyone else, you'd be dead. I doubt even a hospital could save you, now." He wets his lips, resting a hand on the mans chest. He's barely breathing, barely alive.

"But I can. Should I, I wonder? Someone did this for a reason. Or maybe you were just crazy unlucky. Wrong place, wrong time." The only way to find out is to actually save him, and Raleigh's not sure if he drinks, he'll be able to stop.

"We'll find out, I guess." Maybe. Possibly. He's going to try.

He picks up the mans wrist, thumbing it, and shaking his head. Not enough left there. He's lost so much, Raleigh will have to go for the neck.

The stranger is a good looking man, half dead and pale or not. That doesn't go unnoticed as Raleigh leans in, smooths his hair a little, brushes bloody fingers over his cheek. It's been so long since he's touched another person, let alone a human.

"Well," he says to himself, brow wrinkled. "You won't be human by the time I'm done, but I'll take what I can get." It's wrong, he's wrong, and he doesn't care, but he'll lean in and lick at those plush, bloodstained lips before nosing into his neck, teeth out and sharp, scraping over skin before sinking in.

He drinks and drinks what little there is left, swallowing, hungry, needy, before wrenching himself back, wrist to lips, tearing his own flesh open to feed it back to the stranger. Complete the circle, finish the job. It's a herculean task not to just drink him dry and finish whatever was started with the bullet wound, but he doesn't. He restrains himself, barely, massaging the strangers throat to force his blood down.

It's done, and all there is left to do is wait.

[tom_hanniger]

They say a man's soul is in his blood. Pulsing with every beat of his heart. To take that blood is to take everything a man is, and Raleigh has taken it personally. Not in victory, not on a battlefield, but in hunger and the act of a savior.

Reckless, impulsive, leaping without looking. Even out here in his solitude he's managed to find a way.

Stacker should have put him down for his own good. He's a dog without a leash- without respect for authority or organization. He is dangerous. But the memory of Yancy was enough to make Stacker grant the remaining Becket some mercy. He'd always had such a soft spot for that boy he just couldn't bring himself to red the earth of Raleigh, even after what he did.

Raleigh who has no business being with others and even less business as a sire.

And yet.

The blood flows. Weak, but it flows - carrying visions of dark tunnels and cold, lonely nights. Of medication and a blonde woman with Bambi eyes who sags under the weight of her responsibilities but says his name with such soft pain.

Tom.

A breath.

You're here. It's been.. ten years. We were all starting to think you were dead or something.

She has a beautiful family.

But behind and under and around all that is something darker that Raleigh also inherits. A ghostly presence that penetrates the blood and bond as it's forged. As he- they swallow and die and lay still and pale for a long while before the magic has done it's work and heavy limbs that feel like lead twitch. Before eyelids made of sandpaper creek open and a whirling arc of pain- no- not pain- but life of sorts comes roaring back through empty veins.

Tainted, it's all tainted now and in so many ways.

He doesn't speak, the man on Raleigh's table, but he gives a soft grunt and raises his right hand gingerly to his side where the gunshot was - how healed back into pristine ivory flesh.

[unbreachable]

It's not one of his smarter moves, siring a newborn.

In fact, it's probably one of the fucking stupidest things he's ever done. He gets enough blood delivered to feed himself, and not any more than that. In order to get more, he'd have to tell Stacker, and he doesn't trust the man not to come out here and just be done with the both of them.

Another solution will be required.

He sits, hard, exhausted - they don't tell you in vampire school siring another is tough, strenuous. Raleigh's never sired anyone before, and shit, he's beat.

He has a name, though.

Tom.

A name, and memories that aren't his - sweetness, heartache, fringes of something darker, sinister. He can't think on it too much right now, his head is swimming, and it's rest he needs. Rest that they both need.

He slouches in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment that turns into several hours, sleeping hard (so that's the trick, then - just sire someone, that'll help him sleep), until the stranger - Tom - moves, pulling Raleigh out of his sleep.

"Don't move too fast," he grunts, rubbing his eyes as he sits up. "You'll be dizzy, at first."

[tom_hanniger]

Tom's hand stills for a moment before falling to rest where his injury was. He remembers- sort of- Sarah? Axel- where-

God his head is spinning. He feels awful and incredible in equal measures but everything is conflicting and ugly and tangled up inside of him.

But overwhelmingly, it's confusion that takes hold. then, roaring up just behind the fear of it all, comes hunger.

"Where-?" he rasps, voice wrecked and catching. The sound of it echoes in his too sensitive ears and he feels like he's falling. If he weren't already flat on his back he'd be sure to end up there now. Vertigo wiping the world out form under his feet.

[unbreachable]

“Upstate,” he replies, getting up to go to the fridge and pull out a cup of something dark he’d been saving for himself. “Close to the Canadian border.”

Slow and steady, careful. Raleigh reaches with his free hand to carefully ease him up.

“Drink this. It helps.”

[tom_hanniger]

Sitting feels like doing a somersault, and yet, guided by the hand of a man he doesn't know, Tom manages. His hands are a little shaky. He's very weak. But he carefully takes the glass and drinks it, not anywhere slow enough to taste.

He can't taste much of anything for a moment before the deep, sweet, spice blooms across his tongue and down his throat and he empties the glass.

Tom swallows the last of it. Dazed and nearly blind from his new vision so overwhelmed. Useless in the way all newborns are. He doesn't have time for this. He'd just- He has to-

You have to do what, Tom. What exactly is your plan? Go back to Harmony?

Don't you remember?

Shoot him Sarah shoot him now! He's right here!

There's nobody here, Tom.--

Is that you Harry? You living inside Tom?

And then nothing. And then now. Only now. Now and this.. something wrong with him- everything is wrong with him.

"I have-" rough. Swallowing the last of the thick, cold liquid. It's heavy on his tongue and he wants more. He could drink so much more, and struggles to try and get himself up and off the table.

"I have to go."

[unbreachable]

"Not yet."

Not ever, probably, but he wont drop a bomb like that just yet. It would scare him, and Raleigh wouldn't blame him.

But he can't let you leave.

You're his, now.

"There's no one out here. I don't know what you're running from, but you had a hell of a hole in you when you collapsed on my porch. You need to rest."

[tom_hanniger]

That would definitely make him bolt.

Tom looks down at himself, pushing his bloody clothes up and out of the way. There's no wound. It looks as if there never was a wound. He looks a little harder before swinging his gaze up to finally meet his maker, hazel eyes bright with new found wild magic.

The man is handsome, Tom thinks while he tries to place him. But of course.. he can't. About his age maybe. The palest skin he's eyes seen with ice blue eyes the brightest he's ever seen. Beautiful like a marble statue but chilling in the same breath.

"How did I-?" No. better yet-

"What happened?"

And then maybe better still though he doesn't have the words to ask:

What did you do to me?

[unbreachable]

Unspeakable things, Tom. That's what he did. Things that shouldn't be done to anyone, but he did it anyway - because he doesn't think, and he doesn't consider the consequences of his actions.

"I think that's a question I should be asking," he says, hip checking the table, fixing bright, ice blue eyes on Tom. Hypnotic, questioning, curious.

"You showed up, covered in blood, bullet hole in your guts. My front porch is covered in blood." Yours, specifically. You should be dead.

[tom_hanniger]

Ngh... Great.

"I don't know," after a moment of thinking. "I don't know how I got here. I must have...drove."

Or something in his body drove. And he thinks.. knows.. that's likely what happened. Which means there is something way more wrong with him than he ever fully knew. And that is fucking terrifying.

"Listen.. Thank you for saving me.. whatever you do to make this happen," he gestures to his pristine side.

"But I can't stay. It isn't safe."

[unbreachable]

"You need to rest," he says, a little firmer. "Like I said. You had a hell of an injury, and you aren't fully...healed."

Best way to put it.

"Tom." He says, because he knows your name, he knows who you are. He doesn't understand that ugly, twisted thing inside of you, but he knows your name.

"Please. Trust me?"

He'll grope for the fridge again. He has a little left, it's all he has. Raleigh pulls a small thermos free, turn turns back to Tom, brow furrowed, looking exhausted, maybe a little broken, but...

Maybe a smidge hopeful. You're here. He saved you. You're his. Tom is a newborn but Raleigh is old hat - if Tom tries to flee, he'll probably be able to inflict a lot of damage, but Raleigh would subdue him in the end. You're his.

His.

[tom_hanniger]

"You don't understand, I'm dangerous," he tries again. But he is tired and on the brink of freaking out.

With Raleigh stepping away Tom tries to shove himself up to stand, knees immediately buckling and he catches himself with a loud, hard slap of his hand on the table for balance. The force of which cracks the wood. Just a little, but definitely a noise.

"What the hell-" Then, to Raleigh.

"Who even are you?"

[unbreachable]

So am I, he thinks, but he doesn't bum rush Tom, doesn't stop him.

He just lets him get up, and lets the vertigo run its course. He knows Tom wont get but a few steps away before he falls, and, well.

Tom nearly breaks his table, but it's built to withstand Raleigh, so at least it doesn't crumble to dust under the force of the blow.

"My name is Raleigh," he says. "Raleigh Becket. And...what's yours?"

He offers the last thermos out of the fridge. Take it, drink.

[tom_hanniger]

Raleigh..

Tom looks pretty shook, looking back at the table, alarmed by the cracking noise. He pulls himself back up, breathing out slow to force himself.

Breathing.. has he been? His heart should be pounding and yet he doesn't feel the roar to match the fear in his chest.

"Just Tom." Which you seem to know already. And he doesn't want to give his last name, he's probably wanted. There's probably an APB out on him. Jesus.. fuck what happened- He killed- It means it was him all along and he killed all those people-

Wheeze. Again, it seems to be more out of instinct than necessity at this point. He can't really focus, lost again in processing the reality of his situation. It's too much. It's way too much. He can't. He can't he can't-

[unbreachable]

Yes, you did. This time it was you. There aren't any loopholes, no I didn't kill those people, Harry killed those people!

This was you. Your hands. There's blood probably still there, Raleigh hasn't had time or energy to clean you up. Who's it is, hard to say. Yours, probably. Maybe.

"Tom."

Raleigh says, shifting closer, groping for his hand, pushing the thermos into it.

"Drink. Now." A gentle sire's command, not that he realizes what he's really doing. He just says it, wills it. Commands it.

Drink it, and drink it now.

[tom_hanniger]

It's horrifying. It's horrifying.

Tom barely hears his name, but he moves as he's commanded, almost without realizing. He drinks. He drinks it all without processing what he's even doing. All he knows is that it helps. Somehow. Something. Fuck, he doesn't know.

He doesn't know anything anymore, he's a fucking psycho murderer- There's no reason for him to be alive, he shouldn't be alive. He has to- If he.. If he dies then Harry dies and it's over- Is Harry still... in him?

He takes a sharp breath, lowering the thermos from his lips, licking them by instinct. The drink is good and quells the furious hunger he doesn't understand.

Only then does he look at his sire, eyes full of such.. broken terror.

"You shouldn't have saved me," rasp. "You should have let me die. Why did you save me?"

[unbreachable]

God, Tom...he's so fucking sorry. That look in your eyes...

How does he even begin to explain what he's done.

"You were dying," he says quietly. "I couldn't let you die."

He just...couldn't. After all the things he's done, the things that have happened when they shouldn't have..he had control over this one thing, this one thing..

So he did it. He had to.

[tom_hanniger]

You mean you took control over someone else when they had no say. Saving a life that doesn't deserve to be saved.

Finally, the most important question makes it's way to Tom's tongue.

"What'd you do."

[unbreachable]

Well. Maybe. But he doesn’t know Tom. He just knows someone collapsed on his porch and he panicked.

He wets his lips, hesitant, worried.

“It’s gonna sound wild.”

[tom_hanniger]

"Yeah? Why don't you try me," almost aggressive. It's stress and fear, sorry Raleigh. There's nothing you can really say that isn't gonna sound wild.

Then again Tom is already on the verge of mental collapse so why the fuck not add one more crazy thing into this whole clusterfuck. You wanna talk about wild, he's just spent the last few days hunting a ghost it turns out he's been the hand of this whole time.

i do what i want

[suicidemission]