Event: the Bother with Bunnies

[applesaucemod]

On the morning of May 6th, 2013, the citizens of Rift York will awaken to find themselves with a new and unexpected roommate. Or two. Or five. The good news: these new roommates don't eat much, they're quiet, and they're pretty adorable. The bad news: no one asked for their homes to be overrun by Angora rabbits.

The rift isn't in the habit of giving people what they ask for, though, so you're just going to have to deal with these bunnies everywhere until the evening of May 8th, when they will disappear as mysteriously and suddenly as they arrived. In the meantime, you might consider them a goodwill gesture from a rift that isn't always so kind. The rabbits seem to be most heavily concentrated in areas where rifties are staying, after all. While Manhattan at large might not appreciate the full extent of the bunnypocalypse, the rifties will find the creatures quite difficult to avoid.



Feel free to post your character's reactions here, or to make your own entries under the event tag. The event will be running for the next two days in-game, or through January 19th in real life. As ever, backdating is allowed and encouraged.

Comments

[erratic_hematic]

Was there a cue? Because he totally missed it. He can definitely smell the blood from the scratch. It drew his attention, but it's hardly as if she'd cut open an artery and stuck it under his nose. It's a more appealing smell than what he's getting from the mug still sitting on the counter, but it's hardly a dinner bell.

More than the blood, her sudden panicked retreat says prey to an older, less welcome part of his mind, but he ignores that thought in favor of wondering what the hell had gone wrong so quickly. It's easy to tie his reasoning back to the conclusion that it was because of his hitting on her. He takes a couple steps after her, holding up his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. "Don't you need something to carry all those rabbits? I've got a box...it'll be a tight fit, but you're not taking them far, right?"

He rolls his eyes and huffs a sigh as she doesn't stop making a beeline for the door. "Stop. You were ogling me. I got the wrong idea. I'm sorry." Suddenly, a book materializes and hits him on the head. He catches it and stares horrified at the title of The Complete Guide for Hunting for a moment before walking to chuck it into the trash. He doesn't like any of what that's suggesting.

[rae_of_sun]

Don't turn around, Sunshine. Don't look into its eyes. That's how they get you. Sure, he doesn't sound like he's trying to put her under the dark - he doesn't really sound anything but baffled (or… disappointed? Yeah, right.) - but she is not taking any chances here. Odin only knows what the hell her blood would do for him, and -- wait, 'ogling'?!

Sunshine quickly dumps the rabbit into the hallway and then pivots on her heel, anger overriding her survival instinct. She was not ogling. She... okay, she looked, because it wasn't a bad view it was sort of hard to avoid, particularly when your go-to behavior around vampires - any vampires, even lite ones - is avoiding eye contact. But looking is not the same thing as a goddamn invitation. Besides, she knows from bruise-inducing personal experience not to... invite… that… from a vampire. Any vampire. But especially an obnoxious asshole lite version.

Any tirade she would have unleashed is cut off by the sight of Spike staring in pretty obvious horror at the book he's suddenly holding, and Sunshine blinks, thrown. It is... substantially thicker than a TV Guide, but she can't see the cover. Does she even want to know? She decides she doesn't.

At a loss, she watches him deposit the book into the trash. Her hand is clamped over the bleeding scratches, but Spike… honestly doesn't seem all that interested. In the blood, anyway. It should be a relief, but there's nothing all that reassuring about the realization that she has no kali goddamn idea what to expect from vampire lites. Enemy vampires, she gets. Reluctant allies, she also gets. This, however, is well outside her wheelhouse.

"… A box would be nice," she finally says.

[erratic_hematic]

He has no idea what's going through her mind, but at least she seems to have calmed down a little. "Great. I'll go get it." He's a little distracted by the hunting book's appearance. It's brought back the question of just what makes the books appear. If it's just the rift poking fun at him, that might be a reasonable explanation. It's a bit more worrying if it's him and only him that prompts the selection.

By the time he looks back at her, his gaze drops to where she has a hand clamped over her arm, and he starts wondering if she's more hurt than she's letting on. Why else would she clamp her hand over it like that? "There's- the place came with a first aid kit. It's in the bathroom under the sink, if you need anything."

He disappears into his bedroom to retrieve the cardboard box from the bottom of his closet, dumps out the few items he'd been holding in it (recently procured weapons, mostly) and walks back into the main room, holding it aloft. "It's not much, but it should do."

[rae_of_sun]

Sunshine glances down at her arm, suddenly self-conscious about the way she's hiding the scratches. She lifts her arm and carefully pulls her hand away - it sticks a little where the blood has already begun to clot - but there's still not that much blood, all told. It'll need to be washed, considering the source, but it's nothing that can't wait until she gets back to her own apartment. "No, it's - it's fine."

When Spike returns with the box, Sunshine fixes him with a puzzled frown. She knows she should just let it drop - don't look a gift horse, etc. - but she can't help herself. "You don't…" she gestures to the scrapes, "this doesn't… bother you?" Not that 'bother' is necessarily the right term, but she doesn't want to make it sound like she expects him to go all single-minded at the sight of blood. Even though she kind of does.

[erratic_hematic]

As he walks back over to her to hand her the box, he takes a closer look at the scratches. It seems she's alright, after all.

Then she asks if the scratches bother him, and it clicks for him what she'd really been worrying about. He almost laughs. There have been times in his life when that might have been enough to make him act, but those are a lifetime and a soul away. It definitely smells good, sweet even, but him wanting to lick her arm is probably information she doesn't need to know at the moment.

Really, he's a bit offended that of all possible things, she'd thought that he'd go into some sort of frenzy at the sight of a few drops of blood. Had she thought he was lying the last time they met? "I thought I was clear on the 'no humans' thing last time. If that," he says the word like it's the most insignificant amount of blood he's ever seen, waving his spare hand in her direction, "If that made me go off I'd've torn out half of New York's throats by now. It wouldn't happen if you'd lost a pint of blood and it's not happening now, Sunshine." He frowns and holds the box out to her until it connects with her body. "Your box."

[rae_of_sun]

She feels a brief and entirely irrational rush of indignation. Indignation because if he knew what her blood was worth he wouldn't wave it off so casually, and irrational because why in the hell would she want him to appreciate what he's missing if it meant he might decide he didn't care to miss it after all? Gods, Sunshine, get it together.

Her arms close around the box more or less automatically when he pushes it at her, though she's still frowning at him. "You're nothing like the vampires back home," she says, and she's not entirely sure whether she means it as a compliment or a disparagement. Maybe it's just an explanation. She takes a step back, clearing the doorway, and hefts the box. "Thanks."

[erratic_hematic]

Likewise, he's not sure whether to take her statement as a compliment or an insult. The difference between himself and the vampires in her world might explain why she'd thought he might react poorly to her scratch, but he'd already told her that he doesn't drink human blood anymore, so that doesn't completely explain her reaction. Her assumption had felt like a lack of faith, but then again, what reason does she have yet to trust him? If that book is anything to go by, maybe she was right to be frightened.

"Yeah," he answers, still vaguely confused by the entire interaction. "Good luck with your rescue operation." He closes the door when she turns to go. All in all, that had gone pretty badly and he's not sure that he has much hope for future interactions going any smoother.

As he walks back through the apartment, he flips off the TV (still showing cartoons), walks into his bedroom, and flops onto the bed. Maybe now he can get back to sleep.