#vampiric bite

He does acknowledge the Prototype, but he was a little bit busy. He planned to stay out for an hour before heading back to his lair. He’s only slightly intimidated by the Prototype, but doesn’t show it.

“Have you seen a plush cat around? A small, mute one.”

@doctor-sawyer / @vampiric-bite (I hope it works???)

The Prototype had just turned a corner, searching for parts of all things when the Dr. Sawyer of all people…well…whatever he was now…had just strolled up to him out of the blue. It was often Harley Sawyer left his cramped room of computers and gadgets to just venture, so the Prototype himself thought this was quite strange just seeing him here.

The massive bulky metal spider jester just stopped and idled there, watching the much tinier robotic doctor with his one good eye, examining the doctor’s movements. He seemed to have mixed attention, and it would become apparent as to why that was when he spoke.

The question confused him, but he had indeed seen the mute little Catnap around before, and despite the rough beginning, he’d actually taken a liking to the cat that he came to know as Rei. Currently though, Rei was elsewhere, and even though the Prototype allowed him to hang around him, that cat did like to venture. The Prototype stays quiet for a solid while, his metal spider legs idling as they took several steps to position themselves and check themselves. Yes he knew he was actually doing this, but it had been so long that he had these that this had became second nature to him.

Even though he took a while to answer, he clearly lied, because of course he wasn’t about to tell the doctor of all people where Rei was, he favored Rei now, and he highly despised the doctor. So to add to his lie, and to just scare the pants…he didn’t have pants…off the man, his head’s mask twists, and he leans forward right into the doctor’s screen-like face, forcefully making his body creak and groan and hiss and jitter to scare him. He quite enjoyed it, intimidating the doctor, and he did so each time he saw him.

He was nibbling on a particularly tender bit of flesh when he sensed movement nearby. A faint, fleeting motion, but enough to send the predator on edge. He growled softly and pulled his mangled meal closer to himself. He hadn’t been feeding as he should have. And despite having eaten a good portion of his meal, he was still quite feral.

( @vampiric-bite )

It took him what felt like years, but he made it out of that hell hole of the very god of schemes himself and all while that large Daedra was sleeping. He’d found his clothes and weapons and snuck out of the prince’s bedchamber and after a few minutes he was outside the castle, trying to dodge the sight of the guards. Once he’d made sure they weren’t looking, he slipped away and was now out in Coldharbour alone and cold and he held onto himself as he walked a dirt path. He’d forgotten how cold this place could get, and he was very thankful he’d found his armor and weapons, his bow and quiver of arrows, his duel daggers and of course a crossbow and bolts.

The Slayer scanned the area around him as he stopped for a second, his black shoulder length hair fluttering against his pale face as his green eyes darted around him. He was somewhat muscular, he was fit but not to the extent that the Shadow was, the Shadow had muscle and was strong. Aside from that, the Slayer’s green eyes stopped somewhere tucked between the trees and a sick smile formed on his face. Yes a spot to be hidden from that prince’s view! And just as soon as he said that, the Slayer immediately began getting firewood. As fast as he could, he’d made a fire and food and was now warming himself as he cooked some elk stew, Coldharbour elk stew.

The one thing he did have on from the prince however was the earring, it was long and hanging off his left ear, and it had the head of Molag Bal himself on it and it’s bale blue eyes were glowing bright. He’d tried to yank it off earlier but he was met with a very unwelcomed zap if his hand even tried to touch it. Which was great, oh so great. As he sipped on the broth of his elk stew, he continued to think about how to yank the damned thing off, clearly it was made sure he couldn’t unless Molag himself did it, and he dreaded going back to the prince with every fiber of his being. The Slayer might have been gay and a slut for attention, but not what he went through while he was in the Daedric Prince’s bedchamber. Yes it did feel amazing, and he felt warm, but he did not feel safe, not one bit.

He was claimed by Molag Bal himself, but he knew at some point or another that he’d have to go back a beg for the prince to remove the earring claiming him, but in all honesty, he was scared to. The Daedric Prince’s wrath was no joke, he’d experienced that first hand, and did not want to experience it again.

He was just about to pour himself a second helping of his stew when he’d heard a shuffle in the trees behind him, and he stopped what he was doing immediately and snatched his crossbow and held it at the ready, hoping to hell it wasn’t Molag coming to reclaim his territory and in genuine anger, he hissed out, “Come out dear, in not in the mood to play these games with you. I don’t care who you are! If you don’t come out in ten seconds I will start firing!”

The pipes of the mechanism were old. So old that sooner or later they were bound to break.

And break they did. Break enough for the machine he was trapped in to finally break down and stop sapping every bit of energy from him.

So he put all of his energy into escaping, into getting out of the machine and out of the ruins and into the world.

"I'm still delving more into research on Dremora and their social customs, but I'd say maybe he'd like a nice weapon? Or jewelry, preferably enchanted."

She pauses for a moment, scraping the contents of a bowl she was holding into a jar.

“Many things,” he chimed, rubbing at the cuff of his sleeve. “But friends call me Nel, and you are at liberty to make yourself one.” Nel didn’t shy from making eye contact, but it remained gentle--attentive, but not invasive.

Looks at a keyboard.

Prototype.

Keyboard.

The mini CatNap proceeds to walk carefully on the desk, walk on the keyboard- and simply plop down on it like an actual cat. His long tail simply dangles off the side as he tucks in his stuffed paws underneath himself and becomes a loaf.

Then his head looks over at some objects on the desk within his reach. A stapler. A mug.

Just stares at the Prototype and reaches out a stuffed paw to push the stuff off the desk. If any object was placed back, he’d push it off again.

The Prototype stares at the same tiny purple cat he’d met that he now knew as Rei now acting completely catlike. He watches as the tiny purple catnap lays down and loafs and just watched helplessly as things start falling off the desk containing the laptop he now was using.

With every fall of said objects tumbling from their places, he’d use is long spindly hands to catch anything falling off. Some he was able to grab, few landed to the floor with a thud, and fewer were starting to make him grunt in slight anger and annoyance. Each time he’d place an object back into its original place, he’d struggle to catch it in time before hitting the floor as the cat continued to kick them off.

Now his anger was swelling, and he speaks, “STOP it! Hey HEEY! No…NOO no!

He didn’t remember much. Bits and pieces of his former life. Did the Prototype do this to him? The Doctor? Well, he didn’t care now.

Then he sneezes out some lavender scented sleeping gas. As if it would really do anything.

(From Rei :3)

Towering above this tiny Catnap, the Prototype stares back down at the little cat in all his glory. He just stands there, in the smack dab middle of the hallway, staring down at the plush cat in silence, mainly staring at those words, “Fuck you.”

For the first few minutes, no movement came from him, not even the idle steps of his spider-like mechanical legs that he’d normally do happened at this moment. Those words cutting into him like a knife, yet, he didn’t recognize this as his handiwork. Did the doctor do this? And how the hell did a child know the word fuck? Unless, this wasn’t a child. Finally movement, a gentle tap of one of his legs on the solid floor now buckling due to his weight.

His mask roughly twists, head jolting toward the small cat who almost completely resembled someone he favored way more, yet he knew this one was different. He knew that, and his permanent smiling face pushes to the tiny cat as a dark distorted chuckle escapes him, half expecting for the small cat to jump.

He was about to speak however, until the little thing began sneezing it’s gas. It hits him in the face, the mask seemingly taking in all that sorry smoke’s contents through all the holes present in it, like he was breathing it in. For once, the permanent smile showed his dark twisted smile that he currently felt. That was unexpected yet highly amusing, and he had half the mind to actually show this cat what smoke actually was. Oh did he want to do badly just red smoke this entire hallway and watch the cat twist at it’s effects, but…Poppy might have been watching. This one was her’s? Right? An ally? One she could have been..helping?

Another movement from him now, this time he pulls his head back, his crouch now back into the towering standing position he was in before, only this time, his head moved from one side of the hallway to the other, mentally noting each and every crack and crevasse something as small as this could hide in, and once his head was back staring at the cat again, he did something he never did. Just to test. He sat. His spider-like legs buckled beneath his robotic bulk and seemingly just plopped onto the floor, hand now resting palm up on the floor, beckoning the tiny cat to come closer. Like that would work.