museyboxy | Vampire AU

Vampire AU

In Thedas, vampirism is a rare, powerful, and highly unusual form of blood magic that can be directly learned only from hunger demons. It differs from all other forms of blood magic in that it directly changes the user's body, making them into essentially a monster.

How to become one: Becoming a vampire is far more involved than learning simple blood magic. It's a ritual that must be conducted in the waking world, rather than the Fade. Therefore, the hunger demon needs a body. In other words, vampirism requires sacrificing someone to become a hunger abomination. The hunger abomination then feeds the mage their own blood, and drains the mage's blood in return. Once the last drop of living blood is gone from the mage's body, they collapse and the abomination takes them, feeding on them for a night and a day. The second night, the mage rises again as a vampire, and the hunger demon is freed from the bond between them. Most vampires let the abomination go, but many choose to kill their demonic sire, to cover their own tracks.

How common: The choice to become a vampire is a serious one, requiring a real, extremely risky deal with a demon. Albeit one that many end up betraying. Vampirism is most common in Tevinter, but not as much as one might think: the weaknesses of vampirism make the prospect unattractive to many magisters.

Outside of the Imperium, vampires are the subject of legend and folktales, but most folk, common and educated alike, believe them nothing more than ghost stories. The Chantry teaches nothing about them, and most templars believe them a fiction.

Abilities: Vampires can turn others, of course, in all the usual vampire ways. Vampiric abilities (speed, strength, hypnosis, etc) are immune to templar cleansing and dispels, and vampires cannot be tracked using their mage phylacteries.

Vampires have abilities similar to those in True Blood: speed, strength, the ability to sway the minds of others (glamouring/hypnosis), and heightened senses. Vampire mages can all do blood magic (even if they weren't directly turned by a demon, and never directly learned blood magic). Vampiric weaknesses are similar to those in Buffy: sunlight, though they can handle being in shadows, staking, silver, and certain holy symbols- though, ironically, not the Chantry symbol.

Vampires can walk in sunlight, but it hurts their skin and weakens their abilities. If mages, their magic is hampered, giving them the strength of the average Circle mage and nothing more. Their ability to tolerate sunlight increases the more recently they've fed. However, they will always be stronger at night.

Prompts:
1) Sire - make someone a creature of the night.
2) New Blood - maybe you wanted this, maybe it's being done to you. Welcome to vampirism.
3) Victim - some fanger's sticking a straw into you like you're a Capri Sun.
4) Hunter - did a vamp kill your family? Are you a Templar off the reservation? Idk.
5) Harem - that hypnosis thing? Yeah, you're some vampire's pet now.
6) Wild Card - roll your own. Let's get weird.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hawke snorts at the third date line and sits on the bed, rubbing her forehead. It hurts. Outside the sun is setting, and the slant of afternoon light coming through it is a sharp slice of gold on the opposite wall, bright enough to actually cause pain. She'd like to close the curtain. She doesn't.

Teo accepts the earscratch with a low whimper, his eyes pleading, but then goes back to Hawke's side, pressing against her leg. She actually flinches, pulling her leg violently up on the bed, as though she's afraid to let him touch her, or perhaps the other way around. Teo whimpers again, and after a very long moment she sighs and pats the bed next to her. He jumps up, and slowly, gingerly, she strokes his neck. He rests his muzzle on her leg, and gives Varric a glance that regretfully says Varric will have to find another errand mutt, because he's not leaving his person.

Hawke chuckles, and if it's a little strained, it's not without humor. "I think we'll have to send Bodahn, or hire one of the street kids. Just as well. I don't think even Bodahn can make enough chill-the-hell-out tea for this conversation." Whether she means the one that just happened or the one that's about to happen is nicely ambiguous.

"Blondie?" Varric asks, voice far too even to actually be calm. "If we're sending you to talk to Fenris, that'll convince him this is an emergency."

Anders hems a bit about leaving them, but goes, promising to be quick about it. It's the only solution that doesn't involve Varric leaving the room, and he's got too many alarm bells in his head to even entertain that fucking idea.

They return fairly quickly. Judging by Anders's panting, they ran the entire way back.

"Varric. Hawke." The elf greets them both perfunctorily before crossing the room to stand before their not-so-fearless leader. "I can't say I've ever been summoned as an arcane expert before."

The quiet between them while Anders is gone is almost the most unnatural thing that's happened yet. Neither Varric nor Hawke says a word, not to each other. There are quiet thank yous when Bodahn delivers the tea (Hawke doesn't drink hers) and makes his escape, there's the sound of the fire crackling and of two people and a mabari breathing. That's it. Varric stares at her like he doesn't trust her out of his sight (which she knows he doesn't), and she looks at the way the light changes on the wall. It's brighter than it should be.

Varric and Hawke in each other's company for more than ten seconds without talking. No one would have believed it, Hawke included.

It's actually a relief when Fenris gets back and the tension is broken. "There's a first time for everything," Hawke says, her attention snapping to him at once. "What do you know about vampires?"

Give her this much credit: she's not beating around the bush anymore.

A whisper and murmured profanity ripples around the room, through everyone else present. Fenris curses quietly in Tevene, then eyes her in concern, arms crossed.

"Little more than you, I suspect. The usual frightening bedtime stories told outside the Imperium, and in certain circles in Tevinter. However, in some company, vampirism is known as a form of blood magic used by the most eccentric, most greedy, or those desiring immortality at any cost." He frowns, brow creasing. "Danarius considered it a fool's path, gambling one's life with demon deals and unnecessary weakness. I suspect he was not alone in that opinion."

"Yes, well, unfortunately our late friends believed otherwise and wanted to take pains to convince others of their opinion." She says it lightly, as though this isn't a life and death situation they're discussing. Undeath.

Hawke stands up and paces, aware that all three of them are watching every step she takes. The sun is almost set, and the more that slant of light on the wall has slimmed and dimmed, the stronger she's felt. Though she doesn't feel better by any definition, least of all her own. "Have you ever heard of anyone being turned against their will?"

"Of course." His answer comes swiftly, green eyes never leaving her in her paces. "It's commonly paired with some manner of manipulation or thrall to keep the new spawn in check. At least, in the stories. In reality, such things are rarely done. Creating a powerful monster capable of killing you against the monster's will is never wise."

Varric flinches at the word 'monster' and Anders is fidgeting with the buckles on his coat nervously. Nobody seems to know what to do.

Finally, Varric can't stand it anymore.

"You've got to be shitting me. Are you trying to tell me Hawke is a damn vampire?!"

At Varric's outburst, Hawke sighs and stops, running a hand back through her hair. "I can hear all of your heartbeats. All of them. All of you, including Teo. I could count them. I can see in the dark. And I've always been pale, but this?" She holds out her arm and turns it, examining it critically. "This is ridiculous. Have any of you ever heard of vampirism being reversed? Without killing the vampire, for preference."

Varric hems and haws, murmurs nothings about weird stories and not sure and heroes dying at the end, while Anders opens his mouth with a tentative, "I... I'm not sure."

A low, razored voice cuts sharply through their meeblings.

"No. It cannot be cured." Fenris sounds as sure as he ever has about anything. "You will be this way until your life ends."

Hawke looks out the window. The sun's fully set by now, and the sky is dark.

"Well, shit."

Varric drops onto the nearest chair with a thump.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

Anders gapes, seemingly unable to reconcile this, "There has to be something. Are you sure?"

The bickering that follows flares out much sooner than anyone expects; Blondie doesn't have the energy to argue, and seemingly only tries out of the same thready desperation thrumming at them all. When Anders gives up, the concession ripples through the room.

The mage looks out the window, visibly stressed. "Go, Blondie. I don't think there's much you can do here. Go heal somebody."

Hawke reluctantly nods her agreement, gives Anders a twisted sort of smile as he looks at her with an anguished expression before leaving. Fenris turns to follow but she says his name and he stops, meeting her gaze solidly. She opens her mouth to speak, frowns, then just shrugs and says "...thanks." He ducks his head and leaves.

So it's just her and Varric and Teo, and two cups of tea that never did get drunk.

Hawke goes and stands by the window. "I don't think the process has finished quite yet," she says finally. "I was hoping it'd stop. The things they did--" She shakes her head. "It's all something of a blur, to be honest. I didn't think they had succeeded in doing anything permanent until--"

Until Teo bared his fucking throat to her, and Maker help her, the instinct had been there. "Until just earlier."

Edited 2018-04-23 14:44 (UTC)

Varric is busily adding whiskey to his tea, because fuck this day, and fuck everything else, too. He makes a point of sticking his head out the door and yelling out, "Bodahn! Wine cellar- help yourself to anything, and I'll replace it. Day off."

Of course, he does that knowing that Bodahn won't actually take the day off for anyone but Hawke, but shit. The man deserves a drink or twelve after what Varric just put him through.

After spicing up his own tea, he goes and shoves the flask in her hands.

"So what's the plan? Did our nighttime gang fights just become grocery runs?"

"Somehow I never made a plan for getting turned into a monstrous creature of the night who sucks on necks and is allergic to silver." Hawke has a dark sense of humor. Always has. And a good thing too, in these circumstances. It's what keeps her from throwing up, or screaming, or destroying the rest of her furniture. "Seems to obvious now that I should have gotten around to that one."

She lifts the mug to her nose and inhales the smell of it, closes her eyes, tries to pretend it smells appetizing, or at least comforting. It doesn't.

The hands that gave it to her are another matter.

She walks across the room, not looking at his face. She doesn't want to see whatever expression he's wearing. "And no. No nighttime grocery runs. Period."

“So the plan is starving?” he asks drily, taking another pull of whisky before again attempting to make her take the damn flask. “Sounds fantastic. Just as long as you keep me in the loop.”

There’s no quibbling or denying or bullshit. He has plenty of what-the-fuck in him, but that look in Hawke’s eyes is scaring him. The most important thing is making sure she still has some will to live. Hawke is a vampire- massively fucked up? Yeah, no shit. But it’s a thing and brooding won’t fix it. All that’s left is taking care of her. Figuring out how to move forward.

"I wouldn't call it a plan so much as the likeliest outcome," she retorts, going back to pacing, since that worked so well before when they were grilling Fenris. Hawke has plenty of will to live--but not at any price.

Still, she doesn't look as though she's planning to go out and sit in the sunshine. There's that.

"But who knows? Maybe it means I just live a floppy, pasty existence confined to my bed because I'm a picky eater and refuse to eat my vampire vegetables. I'm immortal now, right? Can't starve to death if you're immortal." She stops abruptly and falls on her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Of all the sick jokes The Maker has played with our lives, this is one of the most impressive."

Edited (I edit a lot okay) 2018-04-24 16:00 (UTC)

"I don't know," he drawls, before walking over to her and parking his ass on the chair by the bed. "City full of blood-magic-paranoid templars, and the biggest non-mage pain in the ass gets turned into a bloodsucker? As an author, I can appreciate the grand irony."

Still, he looks at her. Varric can accept a lot of things, but losing Hawke isn't one of them.

"Stop looking at me like that." She'd swear he hasn't blinked for an hour. She might not have looked at him directly, but she doesn't have to; she knows him. "I promise I'm not going to sharpen a stake and throw myself on it. Not without trying to find some way to undo this crap first, at least. Whatever Fenris said."

“I’ll shake every tree and hit up every connection I got,” Varric concedes. “Meanwhile, you’re no good to anyone hungry and weak.”

Not that he knows the first thing about vampires- but he knows stories and lore and people. Anything that hungers, starves. Anything that starves grows desperate. Desperation is more dangerous than any enemy Varric has ever faced.

“You think you’re dangerous now? Remember how hungry feels. Haven’t eaten in days hungry- remember the Deep Roads? Multiply it by weeks, marinated in predatorial instinct, and you have a recipe that can’t possibly be healthy.”

Aware that this topic is less than helpful, he forges on.

“Lucky for you, the edible scum of Darktown, and your legion of loved ones, I have an idea.”

She looks darker and darker the more he talks, because he's right. She doesn't like it, but he's right. She'd like to think she can keep things under control, but it's not going to be like when they were underground and thinking longingly of food that wasn't there. There was no danger of coming across a stray steak and devouring it, and even if they had, the steak wouldn't have cared.

She closes her eyes, distinctly aware that despite what she only just now promised, staking herself would probably be the smartest option, assuming that she wants to die as herself more than she wants to live as...she doesn't know what.

But she did promise. And they're still collecting information, really. She makes a silent note to have a word with Fenris later, however. Contingencies. Varric will no doubt make his and she'll make hers.

Hawke already forsees them keeping a lot of secrets from each other, and she already dislikes it.

"I hope your plan is a really, really good one," she says, still staring up at the ceiling. "Because I frankly admit I'm at a loss here. Except that I am not going to prey on people. I don't care of they're criminals, gang scum, or Meredith."

It comes out pretty heated by the end; someone is more freaked out by this situation than she's letting on, clearly. But she calms down enough to finish, "And she'd probably poison me anyway, vampire or not."

He waves a hand dismissively. "Perish the thought, I won't allow my lady to dine on such filth. For you, my dear, I would offer nothing but the best."

He lays a hand on his own chest. Lets the implication sink in.

"Don't freak out. Hear me out." Does he know her, or what? "My plan includes having Fenris standing behind you with silver, ready to, ah, get you to stop if needed- and Blondie, healing magic and crazy-powerful spirit roommate at the ready. Plus, I'd work out a signal with them ahead of time for when things get too much- something I'd be able to do while... not at my best."

If the wording is delicate, it's to avoid offending her sensibilities too terribly.

"No."

Succinct.

Obviously. Varric heaves a long-suffering, infinitely patient sigh and starts in again.

"Look, Hawke, you can't do better than this. It's a plan with consent, a healer, spirit cavalry, witnesses-"

"No."

She flings herself off the bed, walks towards the window, paces back, circles her own steps in the room like a dog chasing its tail. All the while she's talking, a stream of words gushing out like a dam breaking, or air escaping a balloon. "No, Maker, no, fuck, no, never, never. First Teo and now you. No. How can you ask that? How can you even suggest that I could just--just feed on you, like you're a piece of fucking meat instead of--and do it with an audience, surrounded by people prepared to put me down like a rabid bear if I lose it, and, and--"

It is more like air escaping from a balloon, because suddenly all the air is gone. Not just the words but the air. She's on her knees retching and doesn't know how she got there, and she can't breathe and maybe she shouldn't, maybe she doesn't even need to anymore but something in her chest is burning and wanting air so probably she does, but there isn't any, and Teo shoves his way into her face and she pushes him away hard enough that he rolls halfway across the room because no, no, no, no, no--

Varric freezes, caught between warring urges. His instinct is to hold her: take her in his arms and surround her with comfort and press the panic out of her. The rest of him notices that she just flung a goddamn full grown mabari across the room like a feather, and given that he's the cause of her panic, he's not sure if he should be near her. It might make the fear worse, to have him so close after suggesting she feed on him.

It's just then that the door slams open and Bodahn and Orana pour in. Orana, poor girl, looks terrified out of her wits, and Bodahn appears to be having a conniption of some kind. They add to the confusion in the room, overlaying Teo's sounds of distress. The poor dog, after getting up, sets to making a strange tinny whine that doesn't stop. Apparently, seeing Hawke in pain and not being able to help has finally broken him.

While Varric tells them to give her room, and Orana fearfully asks if Mistress is losing herself like her last mistress did, and Varric and Bodahn both tell her to quiet lest they panic Hawke more, something happens. They all miss who slips through the door next, except Teo- whose noises change pitch, but keep going.

Bodahn cuts through the bullshit with a nervous, "Sandal? Sandal, my boy-"

The dwarf ignores his father entirely. Kneeling in front of Hawke, he takes her face in his broad hands utterly without fear, and raises her head to look him in the eyes.

He doesn't say anything. He just gazes, meeting her baby blues with his own, wide and sad and kind. "Shhh," he soothes gently. The way he's holding her, she might as well be one of his delicate, impossibly precious enchantments.

She doesn't hear the others come in, doesn't hear anything past a roaring in her ears. There's a pressure in her chest and darkness closing in (fuck, fuck, Maker, that's too accurate, that's really too accurate), and there's no air and no light and then there's a pair of hands cradling her face and it all stops.

It's that sudden. The noise, the closing-in, the lack of breath--all of it halts, slowed down so much that time seems motionless. There's just Sandal's eyes, large and guileless, pools to fall into. There's nowhere to hide in them. There doesn't need to be.

She gasps suddenly as the ability and need to breathe comes back to her, and his hands press just a little harder to keep her attention. Automatically she matches her breathing with his. In, out. Slow, calm. Just breathing, just air, nothing else. There's nothing in Sandal's eyes that judges her, and nothing that's afraid.

After a few lifetimes of this she's back in herself enough to realize she has a raging headache and that Teo is keening. She closes her eyes, her expression pained. Sandal leans forward and rests his head against hers. "Shhh," he says again, and then he lets go and the rest of the world comes back.

It's a bit of a mess, the world. Orana is scared, Bodahn is somewhere between angry and worried (for her or Sandal? Either way it's one of the rare times she's seen him being less than perfectly urbane). Teo crawls back along the floor back to her, scooting on his belly, and her heart stops for a moment with the idea that she might have injured him and starts again the next second as she recognizes his body language as being not injured, just deeply unhappy. And Varric--

She doesn't look at Varric. She still can't, not yet.

"Thank you," she manages, and what conversation there was in the room abruptly stops. "I think we're done here, for the moment. And I need a word with Varric, please." She reaches out and rubs Teo's fur, tugging lightly on one of his ears. "There's a few changes coming, and as soon as we figure out what they are we'll let you know. For the moment you'd better refuse entry to anyone who isn't on the list, however." 'The List' being Hawke's actual friends, the ones she most trusts. "Just...say I'm indisposed. For now."

There's a little more conversation, well-meant. Orana offers to make her some soup, and Sandal has a quick word with Varric that Hawke misses. Teo's stopped keening and is letting himself be comforted. Hawke tries to do the same. The staff all let themselves out and the room is quiet again.

She still can't look at him. She takes a breath. "From a cup, maybe. If you can stand to be that cold-blooded about it, pardon the phrasing."

She doesn't doubt it won't be as satisfying, won't be what she'll crave. But it's a compromise she can maybe accept. It doesn't make her shudder with horror the way his idea did, though it takes a certain amount of detachment even to suggest it.

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"Italian chef gesture" made me laugh a lot <3

ur welc <3

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