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Blood Prompts II Accepting

It was an unfair advantage. As soon as they pulled out an iron knuckleduster and swung for his face, Paul realised the fight was over. Between the sting of its bite against his mouth - and the element it was made of - he was forced to retreat. Fucker! If they were anywhere else but a public space, his rival would no longer be breathing. But a few beachgoers were already staring over at the commotion, wondering what was going to happen next. They had no idea how lucky they were tonight. With a low hiss, the blond covered the burning wound with his hand before retreating over to his motorbike. He ignored the way they laughed, knowing that there was always another opportunity to rip them apart -- limb by limb. Vampires never forgot a face, no matter how much time had passed. He was already placing them on their next feeding list, anticipating the moment he would return the favour. Right now, as he brought the engine to life with a swift kick, the only thing he could concentrate on was returning home. Like an animal with its tail between its legs, Paul sped off with a permanent scowl on his face, ignoring the way his bottom lip throbbed.

As he sulked back into the cave, a firm - yet concerned - voice from a nearby armchair asked him what happened. Try as he might to skim past her, Halia refused to let him disappear so easily. As she repeated her question, Paul knew there was no choice but to offer an explanation. He could never be rude to her; she was always nice to him. But he remained stubborn, shrugging one shoulder as he attempted to brush over the topic. "Nothin' happened," he answered, knowing for a fact that she could see his own blood spattered across his face. There was no way to miss his busted lip and blistered skin, either. And yet he wanted to divert any attention away from it. Never mind the visible damage inflicted upon him, it was his ego that was heavily bruised. "Can we leave it?" He mumbled, rotating the spiked bracelets on his wrist for lack of something better to do. No can do. Her intense stare was enough to rumble him. "I just got into a stupid fight, okay? I'll be fine--"

Quiet Muses Prompts II Accepting

His rock box was on low, humming out INXS from where it sat on a small stack of plastic crates. Usually the vampire had it cranked all the way up, but he decided to let the others rest this morning. That, and Dwayne had already threatened to stake him if he disturbed his sleep for the third day in a row. For once, Paul listened; his brother always stayed true to his word. Whilst they were tucked away at the back of the cave, he remained awake in the main lobby. There were some areas where the sunlight struggled to touch, and one such place was the alcove he currently kicked back in. It was a mess of drapes carefully hung up to conceal a premium mattress - stolen from a bed found in one of the many collapsed rooms - as well as various decorations that Paul added. They ranged from a broken record player, stacks of vinyls, posters of rock bands, many beer cans, and articles of clothing he never wore. He wasn't as much of a hoarder as Marko was, but some of it was positively him.

Right now, the vampire had his blazer draped across his lap and a needle with thread held in one hand. He was shit at sewing - that was usually Dwayne's talent - but he wanted to repair a huge rip on the sleeve. It had gotten caught on a tree branch during their feed last night, after chasing his victim through woodland. His appearance was the least of his worries, but because he struggled to sleep, Paul decided to do something productive. Almost like counting sheep, he hoped the task would be repetitive and boring enough to lull him. However, all he wanted to do was give up and wait until Dwayne was awake to fix it for him. Just as he was about to stab the needle into one of the drapes in frustration, one of them was pulled aside to reveal a mop of curls.