Shandrel, with a reverse flare that has turned his healing vibe into a killing vibe, finally acts on an order from Steven demanding him to kill Frankie, who is carrying a love empowerment vibe.
Timeline: During the Solar Flares
Preceded by Vibe Swap
Followed by ---
<Shandrel> lol should this be like before the flares? Because daaamn it's been a while since Steve told him to kill Frankie haha
<Frankie > it could be during, i guess, after that rp where Shandrel and Frankie swapped Simon's powers, cause it would change thing up a lot, I think...
<Shandrel> Ohhh yes, Shandrel would be less willing to kill him after sorta being in his head a little- but HE GOTTA, CAUSE THE BOSS SAID
<Frankie> yea, Frankie would be more willing to hear him out too
- Frankie was Shandrel too. That was... Frankie DOESN'T THINK ABOUT IT
<Shandrel> ...olololol it was too fabulous
- Frankie sure. that's the reason
<Shandrel> SCREAM and Shandrel rolled reverse vibe... HE HAS THE KILLING VIBE
<Frankie > omg lol idk if i wanna use love empowerment for this rp lemme try again XD
<Shandrel> 8UUUUU love empowerment? Does that just make people more loveydovey
<Frankie > it said it makes the user stronger when they’re near affection
<Frankie > but it could also give off low level emotion manipulations...
- Frankie hangs out in romantic partner dancing clubs... why are they so appealing atm...
<Frankie > ok maybe I'll keep it after all :>
- Shandrel wanders by clubs on the purple side of town. He had just run a few errands, mostly getting a fresh supply of Fonk and other vibe drugs that were invaluable during times like these. He wore a lot less orange on these errands, but that didn't mean he blended in at all. He kept his eyes peeled for any purples who might be more belligerent. Like, perhaps, a certain blond, sparky mafia boss.
- Frankie, to his delight, finds a slew of marvelous dancing partners. As he gets to know a few, and they get to know him, he starts feeling more awake. After dancing for hours and wooing half the club with his mad skills, he is so charged up that he’s completely unaffected by the exhausting amount of physical exertion. His display starts drawing crowd to the club, visible from the street.
- Shandrel knows he shouldn't stick around, but damn, that crowd was too tempting. He ducks into an alley for a moment to take out his UG arrow earring and touch up his make up- and add just a little purple eyeshadow. He makes sure there isn't a spot of orange on him, save for the roots of his hair that had grown out since he'd last dyed it blue. He fixes his gloves and sleeves and boa, careful to cover his skin in case his vibe got a little out of control - couldn't risk brushing up against somebody with the way the flares were acting on him. He puts on a large pair of sunglasses and, finally satisfied with his appearance, he wanders into the club. He grins as he scopes out the place. He isn't catching the eye of many of the patrons - in the orange district this would be a tragedy, but here, he was content with that. The energy here is so high that he isn't as nervous about this infiltration into enemy territory as he ought to be. He dances as he moves through the mass of dancers and scopes out potential partners for the evening. He stands on the tips of his toes to look where so many have turned their attention, spotting the very man he was anxious of running into. He knows he shouldn't, that this is such a bad idea, but there's just so much vibe in the air, so much energy. He's feeling a little cocky now. He makes his way closer.
<Frankie > ahhhh Shandreelll, feeliin cocky~
- Frankie is having the best time- every one's watching him, dancing with him, he can feel their admiration somehow, their love for his every movement, his steps, his skill- It's better than a fonk high. He whirls his partner across the floor, eating up her affection for him and her love of dancing.. His thoughts are fully taken with his partner, and the dancing, and the energy in the air. The crowd is only a blur, and any blue hair is completely missed.
- Shandrel can't help watching Frankie and his dancing partner. He felt something odd welling up inside him. He wanted to be in that woman's place, performing those steps, his hands on Frankie’s. He convinced himself that it was because that would make a wonderful opportunity to complete Steven's task, and reminded himself of the things Frankie has said about Greg, but still... Damn, dancing with him looked really fun right now. He wondered if there was much hope in getting his attention, out of everyone else in the crowd fawning over him. He made his way to the front where the mass of dancers had parted to make way for Frankie's performance, nudging aside a taller gentleman who was blocking the view. The man didn't take too kindly to that, however, and the two entered a little shoving match in the front line of the crowd.
- Frankie performs some inhumanly powerful leaps, and the crowd gasps in awe. A soft pink glow begins to emanate from everyone in the room, most brightly around Frankie and his lady. The dancers all around the room press closer to their own partners; some lean their heads on each other's shoulders, some kiss, others just gaze into each others eyes... Frankie can feel it all, unconsciously, so that the two men fighting feels like a gaping hole. His eyes fondly rove the room until they fall onto one of his employees and... Shandrel.
<Shandrel> that is the best vibe *u*
- Frankie dances and ships are formed
- Shandrel now inspired to write fluff fanfics
<Frankie > >u<
- Shandrel growls as he struggles with the man, the two of them elbowing each other with growing intensity. He considers yanking off a glove and giving him a dose of his new vibe, but the man has already strongarmed him back into the crowd. Shandrel mutters an apology to someone behind him - a woman who's shoes he'd almost stepped on. She didn't even seem to notice though; she only has eyes for her partner now. As do so many in the crowd. He takes another quick look around at what must have been some one's vibe at work-Frankie’s? There was no telling what vibe anyone was carrying these days. It seemed like a delightful little power to have, though all these displays of affection made him feel a bit jealous, lonely. Now he wanted to leave, find a singles bar maybe. He glanced up once more to watch Frankie for only a moment more before he quietly ducked out- but when he peered over the shoulders of the man in front of him, he was surprised to meet Frankie's gaze. He found himself giddy all of a sudden, smiling sheepishly at him and waving his fingers coyly. Couldn't help himself.
- Frankie watches Shandrel as he spins with his partner- She's all over him, but the loneliness, the absence of love and affection from Shandrel's direction has his attention completely hooked- and then he meets the man's eyes- he moves away immediately when Shandrel waves. Irritated, he refocuses on his partner, much to her delight, just as a slow romantic song begins. As she leans on him, Frankie tries very hard to avoid Shandrel. He was having such a great time, why did the doctor have to show up... and... what was with Shandrel's expression?? Ugh.. At least he wasn't one of those violent UG that Frankie needed to deal with....
- Shandrel scowled a little as Frankie looked away. He craned his neck to look over the front line of the crowd, but it seemed he had danced away now, even had his back turned. Shandrel sighed and sank back into the crowd, ducking and weaving expertly through the pack towards the bar. He might as well have a good cosmopolitan if he was going to be lurking around waiting for an opportunity to corner Frankie. As he made his way a tipsy woman bumped into him and sloshed her colorful drink down her sleeve. "Ugh! Hey, this was my best blouse!" She barked accusingly at Shandrel. But Shandrel wasn't looking at the new stain on this woman's shirt- He noticed, the moment this happened, the pinkish aura that was floating around many of patrons faded from her. How curious. He gave her a condescending glance over. "Honey if that's the best you've got, I think I've done you a favor. Replace it with something decent~" Yep, that made that glimmer of vibe vanish completely. She sloshed the remainder of her drink on him and stormed off, but Shandrel could only grin. He glanced back to the dance floor- if it was really Frankie's vibe doing this, maybe he'd notice...
- Frankie feels that floating sensation only possible through a fantastic waltz... As the dancers twirl around the room, the light intensifies. Some members of the audience start hugging, touching, kissing... Even complete strangers grow more fond of those around them... But in the glowing mass, a dark spot appears, drawing the attention of many in the room... The song ends and Frankie kisses his partner, who returns it passionately- she would go on, and he'd like her too, very much- He's almost able to ignore the unhappiness Shandrel's caused, but it's a constant strain on him, and he's got no idea why, still unaware of his flare. He unhappily pulls away from his partner with and apology and a promise to dance again soon, then makes a bee line towards the unhappy drunk woman, curious. As he leaves the dance floor, the pink light fades to nearly imperceptible levels.
- Shandrel took a seat at the bar and politely asked the bartender for a few napkins and a cosmo, oblivious or unfazed by the glances he had drawn for his rudeness. He dabbed his white coat where her drink had spilled on him, though thankfully there had been very little liquid left in the glass. The bartender passed him an absurdly pink drink and he took a long sip of it as he looked over the crowd again for Frankie- Ahh, perfect, the crowd was shifting to make way in the sort of fashion they only did for faction leaders and club owners. He smirks over the rim of his glass and props an elbow up on the bar, his eyes searching the crowd until they fell on a blond head cutting through the mass of dancers.
- Frankie notices the pink fading, but dismisses it as some one's flare acting up. He approaches the drunk woman, and after only a few seconds of talking to her the feeling that had drawn him there fades. A few minutes longer into their conversation, and he can hardly recall why he came over to begin with. He's about to leave for the bar when she drapes herself on him, rubbing her wet clothes onto his tux. Frankie scowls, extricates himself, and his vibe fades entirely from the room. The affection in the club seems to linger though, and many steppers in the crowd stick with their impromptu dates. The room is left to it's own devices, though he continues to passively give of slight affection around him. Frankie sits at the bar, grumbling slightly. He orders without looking up, without noticing Shandrel.
<Shandrel> oh no Shandrel broke it haha
<Frankie > XD
- Shandrel observes the exchange patiently, sipping his drink casually. He cringes a little when the woman's wet clothes come into contact with Frankie’s, knowing that would spell the end of their conversation immediately. Even drunk, she should know better than to endanger his clothes. He bites his lip to keep himself from chuckling. As Frankie takes a seat at the bar, Shandrel swoops in to sit next to him before any of his admirers could snag the seat. "Neat new trick you've got. Emotion vibe? No you've had that before and it wasn't like that, hmmmm hmm, or maybe it only make people lovey-dovey?"
- Frankie receives the whiskey just as Shandrel sits next to him. The nerve- it was one thing, for him to simply waltz into a Mafia club, but to approach Frankie so familiarly... He sips his drink. He can still feel the admiration from the crowd, even the affection directed to others, like warm sunshine. His anger fades.. "What's that? Na. If I had an emotion vibe again, I'd know. You'd know," he says warningly. He did not want to speak of that day ever again. He drinks a bit faster. "Nope. Not sure what I got at the moment, but it ain't that. Now. What brings you to my district, doctor?"
- Shandrel propped his elbow on the bar and nested his chin in his palm. "Oh, just errands... Just passing through, really. Something lured me in here." He brings his free hand to his lips and licks the tip of his middle finger, then traces it around the lip of his glass. His finger absently travels around the glass rim until it produces a hollow sound that is barely audible over the music and din of the club. "I don't know... I thought it might be nice to talk to you again." He shrugs his shoulder elegantly.
- Frankie had been saved by some of Shandrel's 'errands' in purple district before, and he doesn't press on the statement. "Well, this is the club ta be at tonight, sure, but I didn't think this kinda place was yer style, Doc..." He watches the delicate finger gently rub against the glass. The sound sends a shivers through him. He takes another quick gulp. "Ah- talk to me? We don't really got much business together..." He hadn't seen the doctor since he'd traded vibes with Simon... if Shandrel did want to talk about that... No. Frankie tries to focus on the feeling from the alcohol, the warm, beautiful feeling that everyone loved one another, that he was loved... But he is suddenly Sweet. He's Shandrel. He's everyone in the entire fucking city but his himself. Frankie shudders violently and orders another shot.
- Shandrel sighs wistfully. The finger going around the glass rim comes to a slow stop and he takes another long sip. "Mm. I suppose that's true. I just thought maybe..." He pauses and stares at his drink for a moment, then continues at lower volume, "It might be nice, if we could, ah, become a bit more friendly." He was careful about his tone now. Frankie probably wouldn't respond to well to flirtatiousness- at least, not until he downed a few more whiskeys. "I thought... I don't know... we, ahh, connected?" His fingers return to toy with the glass, to keep them from fidgeting. "Or perhaps I'm just imagining things."
- Frankie's eyes follow Shandrel's finger again. The good mood from before isn't enough of a buffer against the man’s flirting, or his constant references to the vibe swap. Frankie shifts slightly away from Shandrel as he speaks. "What- what the fuck are you talkin about??" The memory returns suddenly, clear and painful... up on the roof, holding Shandrel, lost, confused, suddenly remembering everything of what he was and what he'd done... the doctore had been with him, not just in his arms, but entangled in his thoughts... Frankie swallows the new drink in one go, chasing away sobriety with reckless abandon tonight. "Lookit, I dunno what you think you know about me, but you can ferget it. Yer'a good doctor, an I can 'preciate that, but uh..." He gets distracted by Shandrel's fingers for a moment- "Er- Yea. 'Fraid you juss imagined it."
- Shandrel suddenly ceases all movement as Frankie speaks. The hollow sound coming from the glass fades as the vibration stops. He murmured a sad little, "Oh," and stared down at his glass for a long, somber moment. He finishes off the glass and beckons the bartender over to make another, pulling his long glove back over his hand. He tugs the fabric over each finger with delicate care. "Are you certain? Can't we- Can we talk privately? Please?" His voice is so low now he has to lean closer to ensure he can be heard.
- Frankie's heart drops with Shandrel's. He still receives the attraction and infatuation from the Doctor, but it's different than the hopeful blossoming sweet stuff he was getting a moment ago. Still unaware of why, he feels guilt, and regret for denying the Doctor's feelings. "I didn't mean- look uh- maybe we could-" He stops when Shandrel closes in on him, turning red as he backs up off his seat, and runs into a woman who'd been fondly staring openly at him. Frankie apologizes, clears his throat. "Ok. Yess. Somewhere private." He grabs another drink and heads for a private booth without another word.
- Shandrel bit back a soft laugh at his reaction. It was endearing, how easy it was to fluster him. No, not endearing just pathetically hilarious- he had to correct himself. Shandrel didn't want to find him endearing, not when with the task he had before him. Yet he couldn't help being overjoyed at avoiding another outright rejection. This was going to be difficult. He takes his drink and follows Frankie closely to the private booth. His heart beat a little faster, but he couldn't tell if it was from excitement or dread. Both.
- Frankie relaxes as he passes through the crowd, basking in the enamored stares that follow him. He doesn't want to cut himself off from it, though this conversation seemed important... But even in the quiet booth, he can still feel the affection from the crowd outside. He contentedly sips his whiskey while Shandrel sits. "Aright. So. You wanted ta talk? Here we are."
- Shandrel settles into a seat close by - not too close though, not yet. He tugs lightly at the fingers of his gloves as if considering taking them off. He keeps his eyes transfixed on his hands. "I... don't know how to say..." He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. These feelings were becoming too real. He had come in with the intention of playing up that vibe switching incident, but now he couldn't tell where truth ended and his fiction began. Must be Frankie’s strange new vibe, muddying up his emotions. "Like I said, it's like... like we're connected- since that day... I'm sorry, I know it's foolish- maybe it was because I was so out of it from the, ahh, the fonk... but it feels, god, I don't know... like I need to be closer to you," He tentatively reached out to touch him, just on the arm. "Can't you feel it too?"
- Frankie can already feel a pleasant buzz from the drink, and his eyes again lock onto Shandrel's hands... they were rather elegant... "Hm?" The mention of that horrible second day of the flares brings him back around. "Why are ya- lookit, what ya saw there-" He gulps. But Shandrel isn't Simon. Frankie can lie all he likes, and the Doctor's vibe won't see right through them. Thank god. "Jussh ferget about it. It ain't import'nt. I don't hardly even remembersh any of it anyhow. Yer ansswer’ss no-" He freezes when Shandrel puts a hand on him. His ears turn pink again. "Uh- um... maybe we could jus...getta know one another..." A soft pink glow surrounds Shandrel's hand. Frankie looks at it with fear and pulls away, suddenly serious. "What's the flares doin to you right now, Doc?"
- Shandrel watches Frankie intently as he speaks. He's so much easier to read when he's this inebriated. His words, for some reason, still hurt - but it was clear to him that there was more than he was letting on. At the very least, he was certain Frankie couldn't have just forgotten the whole thing. Shandrel himself was high as a kite the whole time, and even his memory of it was strong. He almost misses the question about his vibe, lost in his thoughts, staring at the curious glow accumulating around his hand. His fingers travel slowly, delicately down Frankie's arm. "Hmm...? My vibe is normal today..."
- Frankie "But... wassn't yer vibe red before??" Even without an answer, he calms, assured that they wont swap vibes or some other nasty thing if they touch... And really, the touching wasn't so bad, otherwise.. kinda nice-?! Frankie's eyes go wide and he shifts away from the doctor again. "Awright now- now lookit, I tol'ya befer, I ain't like that." He sinks back into his seat, but as before, he doesn’t feel nearly as upset as he usually would, now with the pleasant feelings coming from the club.
- Shandrel "That's your vibe, darling." He bites off the glove of one hand to show the faint red glowing in his palm. He frowns as Frankie moves away, withdrawing the still gloved hand that had been on his. "Not like that- you mean not gay? That doesn't really matter." He dares to lean a little closer. "If you, ah, enjoy someone's company, it shouldn't matter what gender they are... Do you enjoy my company, Frankie? I know I can be annoying at times..." He takes in a deep breath and looks down at his drink again. "If there's no hope, just tell me now..."
- Frankie "Huh? 'S that so?" He looks genuinely surprised at his own hand. He focuses on his vibe as he would his electricity, and pink sparkles fill the air. "Uh... geeze... thought that wass ssomeone else. Wonder what it does..." He's snapped back to the conversation by Shandrel's words. "Huh? You... Ah. I thought ya meant like fuc- hahah- Well with yer track record, could ya blame me??" He flushes and looks at his empty glass. "It ain’t that.. .uh. You ain't annoyin, zactly.. jus-" Why was the doctor even interested?? a voice in the back of his head demands. But he catches Shandrel's downcast expression before he can vocalize the question... "Lookit, if it meansho much ta ya, we c'n juss talk abit..."
- Shandrel feels his heart swell and the heat of a blush growing on his cheeks. It's the vibe, he has to remind himself. He has to keep it together, remember he had a job to do. Maybe... if he could just keep up this charade - was it still a charade? - it would be nice, wonderful even, just to be close to him for a while without having to worry about anything else. His hand returns to Frankie’s, his fingers wrapping gentle around it. "Can we, ah.. rather than talk..." He looks up at him coyly. "Maybe, could I... kiss you?"
- Frankie can feel some kind of beautiful energy coming from Shandrel... the same as outside in the club, but... it was for him. Only for him. Frankie looks at Shandrel fondly. The man really was a delicate thing, so gentle with that wonderful vibe of his... even after his terrible loss.... As the gloved hand wraps around his own, he tugs away slightly, but stops, and allows it- until Shandrel asks to kiss him. Frankie's face goes scarlet and he pulls away once more. "Lookit you juss shaid it din't gotta be gay or nothin," He protests in a soft whine, drinking from his glass. Which was empty. He scowls at it.
- Shandrel purses his lips and frowns at him. "I also said gender shouldn't matter. But... I can put a dress, if that makes you feel better~" He lets out a little laugh that came out more nervous-sounding than he though it would. "If you'd just let me... I assure you, I'm as good as any woman..." He takes note of Frankie's empty glass and slides his drink over to him. He'd only taken a few sips of it "Just one? I won't ask for another, if you dislike it..."
- Frankie "It does matter-" He chokes when Shandrel jokes about wearing a dress, the mental image torturously erotic. He needs to leave. All the good feelings in the city weren't enough to combat his self loathing. "Look, I'm gonna um. I gotta go and get anot'er drink." Eyes wide and panicked, he watches the pink thing Shandrel slides to him. "No- no that'sh alright- I don't wanna drink yersh-" He slides off the seat, heart racing. "I'll jus- jus beya moment, aright??" He opens the door and the sounds from the club rush in.
<Shandrel> bawww Frankie hahaha
<Frankie > he's in that danger zone of being too sober to ngaf, but too drunk to pretend to ngaf XD
- Shandrel looks a bit distraught as Frankie takes his leave, worried he had gone too far this time. Maybe he should follow...? No, that won't help. This was his one chance to get him alone and if Frankie decided not to come back, it was over. He sighs and tugs off his other glove so he can rub his temples. He takes another gulp of his cosmo. He needed to be more drunk to deal with the muddled mess in his head left by Frankie's vibe. The pinkish glow still lingered around his fingers. He sank his head into his hand and let out a long sigh.
- Frankie drinks in the fresh air of the club, letting it wash over him, dispelling the horrible emotions from the private booth. He sits at the bar, ordering a double. Maybe he'd just take a bottle back in with him... But was he honestly thinking of returning to that?? Frankie sits and sighs, soaking up the alcohol and amorous emotions throughout the club. No... He didn't have to. Frankie didn't owe the doctor anything. He drinks, relaxes, and smiles lovingly at his many dancing underlings... his family. Having a good time despite all the horrors they'd all been through; the flares... the sickness... the war.... He again remembers all the lives he'd lived when he’d had Sweet’s vibe, all the heartbreak after ‘99... Frankie’s eyes rove back towards the abandoned doctor. Greg Dorian. The man who Frankie'd like to go to hell just to kick in the teeth. But Sean was so alone without him... "Ssorry ta keep ya waiting, Doctor," Frankie smiles and closes the door before sitting down by Shandrel. He sets a large bottle of scotch and a fresh cosmopolitan onto the table.
<Shandrel> Frankieeeeee -u- eeee
<Frankie> -u- he's gonna diiieee
<Frankie> what but Shandrel has a DEATH vibe XD
<Shandrel> sob Frankie
- Shandrel becomes restless waiting for Frankie to return. He takes out his mirror and checks his make up, making sure he hadn't messed it up when he touched his face, or when his eyes watered inexplicably. He was about to get up and just slink away and forget he had tried this when Frankie returned. He settled back into his seat immediately and tried not to look as desperately relieved as he felt. "Oh, it was no trouble..." A warm smile spread across his lips and he felt his blush burn brighter. It took a lot to make Shandrel blush. He looked ever so pleased as he took the cosmo in his bare fingers. "Thank you." Why was the simple gesture of bringing him a drink so delightful?
- Frankie sighs happily. He'd been panicked earlier for no damn reason. A little more liquor and everything was fine. Just another example of why trying sobriety had been an idiotic move. He looks at Shandrel, feeling less bothered by the doctor's obvious beauty. To think, he'd considered abandoning the poor man here, after all he'd been through. Frankie smiles affectionatley when Shandrel goes for the drink he'd brought, feeling like slightly less of a horrible person with Shandrel looking so happy. "Hah- never ssheen you blussh bef'r... s'too warm 'n here fer yas?? Or'dya gett'a lil' danchin in while I washout?"
- Shandrel beams at him over his drink as he takes a sip. "Oh, no, not too warm at all... Although..." He tosses one end of his boa to uncoil it from his neck and shrugs it off, then loosens his collar. "Hmm, no, it's not the heat~ Must be because of you." He leans a little closer again. Maybe this time they could stay close together.
- Frankie stares transfixed as Shandrel pulls off his covering, inexplicably feeling unbelievably excited. His heart thuds, and he doesn't recoil this time when Shandrel moves closer. "Wha-haha- yer jussbein ssweet, arn' ya Doctor~" Another drink, another smile for the UG. "SSoo. Doocter Sshandy," He hums in a mock serious tone. "Sssidesh all thish kishhin noneshench, whattisit I can dooya fer??"
- Shandrel smiles brightly as he settles in closer still. This may be working out after all. "Oh I don't know..." His hand finds Frankie's again, even daring to push his fingers between his, lacing them together. "I don't dare make any more requests than what is already on the table~" His free hand reaches tentatively to Frankie's face, fingers so lightly drawing across his jawline. "Kiss me."
<Frankie> NO MEANS NO SHANDREL >:U
- Shandrel kiss me you fooool
<Frankie> ahhhh /u/
- Frankie watches, almost detached, as Shandrel's beautiful, sensitive hand slithers over his, into his... Again, a shiver runs down Frankie's spine, and after one more shot to steady his nerves, Frankie himself leans towards Shandrel. "You wanna be closhher... iss'at really th' only way??" Frankie looks searchingly into Shandrel's eyes as he brushes gently against his jaw... The memories Frankie'd tried so hard over the months to bury come back in a flood; teasing the doctor, loving the doctor... The sweet, shy, lonely boy he was before the groove. The passionate, dramatic lover he'd become now... But still so lonely... Just like him... Frankie glows a persistent, gentle pink as he leans in, breath warm and soft, but filled with the heavy scent of rich whiskey. He brushes against Shandrel's lips...
<Shandrel> aaaaahhhhh chinhandsssss
<Frankie> you cant chinhands you need those to type >8U
<Shandrel> yes of course
- Shandrel drinks in a deep breath as their lips meet and holds it, as if that would prolong the moment. His fingers linger delicately at his chin. This was the time to act. There was no guarantee he would get another kiss, though he would certainly try to coax more out of him. His vibe stirred in his body and he allowed it to pour into Frankie. This should have invigorated the man, filled him with life. Bring him back to life. He had only tried this once before. And today, it would do the inverse.
- Frankie starts slow. His pulse quickens, he wants more from the doctor. Needs to fill that loneliness. He presses closer, lips parting as he take in Shandrel's breath. It's sweet.. tasted like Shandrel's drink, tasted pink, somehow... everything was pink, blindingly so. Frankie's vibe fills the room, pouring out into the club. Lives are changed as dancers fall hopelessly in love with one another. Long held grudges are forgotten, old hatreds fade and die. Frankie feels it all, feeding from it, yet it is nothing to Shandrel's magnificent warmth, his delicate, delicious taste... It's not until he brushes the doctor's neck that Frankie finally notices the feeling of death flooding into him. He gasps, chokes and slides away, ashen and half dead, staring bewildered at Shandrel. But even as his mind fails to grasp the situation, his vibe draws from all the love around him. In front of Shandrel's eyes, the color and life returns to Frankie’s face .
<Shandrel> 8)c did Poppy have any nicknames for him...... I need to know more of Poppy in general 0u0
<Frankie> she called him Francis and her favorite term of endearment was big lug. No one else is allowed to use those... =n= He doesn't go by Francis anymore cause it reminds him of her =w=
- Shandrel gathers vibe in his hands and leans over him as he slumps away. Normally, it's warm and pleasant. Now it left a chill that cut to the bone. The vibe in the room feels oppressively dense now. If he could just finish this task, it would end. He touched Frankie's face. It would be easy to finish him now. But he pulls his hands away, holding them close to his chest. Why did he even think he could do this to Frankie? Suddenly it's like he's back on the battle field, in '99, and someone he loves is dying before his eyes, but he can save him. He crawls over Frankie, his hands digging into his hair, he's about to undo this horrible thing he's done, but Frankie is already recovering. He can feel the life in him slowly restore itself. And suddenly he's back to wanting to complete this murder, if only to end him before Shandrel can incite his wrath. "Fran- Francis, I'm sorry..."
- Frankie stares horrified at Shandrel, his liquor soaked brain finally grasping the situation. Frankie leaps away from the doctor as a wave of nausea hits him. Unsteady and disoriented, he falls back into the wall with a painful thud. He pulls his knife to defend himself, eyes wild, expression hurt, angry, and confused. He's an emotional wreck, and when Shandrel calls him by that name, his heart nearly stops . The blade clatters to the floor "N-no- what're ya- sshtopit- don't yoush call me tha'," he pleads, arms swinging up defensively.
- Shandrel backs away when the knife comes out. This is the point where he finds enough strength to make a decision and stick to it - Either fight and finish this or get out now before Frankie can put up a fight or call in a club full of his underlings. What if he ran? What happens to someone who attempted to murder a Mafia boss? He'd be dead before the week was over. He had to keep fighting. He moved in on him again, clutching his tuxedo as he pressed their lips together, letting the vibe flow again. No tenderness or passion this time.
- Frankie has less power to draw from for the second round of Shandrel's kiss. The pink light fades entirely, and Frankie's struggles slows. He slides to the floor, breathing shallow, vision dark. His hand goes up to Shandrel, weakly pushing him away as he fights of the unconsciousness nagging at him, beckoning him to give up. It was time to see Poppy. Finally. His eyes close, and he can feel the doctor's kind, kind vibe enveloping him. There was no electricity to wake him up this time, to jumpstart his cold, still heart... Frankie relishes the thought. His last one, before everything goes black, and quiet, and beautifully peaceful.
<Shandrel> CRY NO sob Frankie you should have stabbed him
<Frankie> too drunk and hurt by unforeseen betrayal =w=
- Shandrel Lychee puts the knife in Frankie’s hand
- Frankie It just lies there. welp
- Shandrel backs away a moment after Frankie ceases all struggling. As he shifts away even that slight movement makes him dizzy and he is surprised at how difficult it is to just maintain balance sitting upright. Oh. This was the price of his vibe, his life for another's, even in the case of taking a life. He hadn't considered that before this very moment. This whole event was just one blunder after another. He lets his vibe fade away before he touches Frankie any more. His pulse is almost non-existent, probably undetectable for anyone but those that dealt with life vibes. It wasn't worth his own life to finish him off like this. His eyes fall to the discarded knife. That wouldn't cost him an ounce of vibe energy. He takes it and gets to his feet, wobbling so much that he stumbles into the table and knocks over their drinks. He clenches the table in one hand and the knife in the other, stares for what feels like hours. His legs tremble, straining just to keep standing. This should be the easiest thing in the world. But he's never done this before. He's never killed a man on purpose. He was a doctor, damn it. He made a vow to do no harm, even to someone with so much blood on his hands. He drops the knife, drops to his knees at Frankie’s side. He slumps over him, pressing his lips to his forehead, taking back just a little of all the death he poured into him. He didn't linger any longer. Shandrel stumbled out of the room, his body so numb it was a wonder he could make it walk. After bumping into several people on the way out a kindly bouncer gave him a hand by tossing him out on the street.
< Shandrel > lol he left his boa in there oh nooo. Like some sort of murderous Cinderella slipper. That’s for Frankie to keep as a memento of his almost murder
< Frankie > lol =u=
- Frankie watches himself die from far above. He was ready for this, had been asking for it for two years. She never let him, before. He stares as his corpse glows pink, as the ghost of a woman forms out of the pure light. She turns to the doctor, strokes him as he stares at the weapon, shakes her head when he picks up the knife, then wordlessly nods as Shandrel kisses the body. As he leaves, she watches him go, unmoving. Now its just the two of them. If she’s even real. Her gaze turns up to where Frankie watched. Her blank expression becomes livid. (What did I tell ya, ya dummy??) she demands, her words appearing bright pink glowing slashes in the air. Frankie says nothing, simply sinks with intense guilt. (You aren't allowed to die!! You didn't even fight! About ta be murdered, and all you can think of is seeing me?! FRANCIS YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!) Frankie sheepishly drifts back down to his body, where, lo and behold, a tiny pulse welcomes him back. He gasps and chokes, coughing violently until tears stream. By the time he can function, the light is gone. She is gone... His stomach surges, and he vomits over the floor before falling into the booth, face first into the boa...surrounded by the smell of that monster. He lies there, humiliated, and betrayed, and EMPTY... But from the club, Frankie realizes there's the feeling he needs. In a daze, Frankie begins humming. Weakly, but he can feel the emotional void in him fill... it wasn't enough. It never could be enough. Trembling, Frankie sits up and sings.
- A darkness washes over the club, spreading like fire. All those inside realize suddenly that all their affection was a lie. They have never truly loved anyone, and have never been loved by anyone in turn. It was all a lie. The darkness seeps out to the street, burning towards Shandrel. Alone in the booth, Frankie shakes and weeps.
< Shandrel > pj ,u gpdal;s what have i doneeee
<Frankie > idk man. idk
< Shandrel > sobbbbbbbb 8'U
- Shandrel finds a wall outside the club to lean against while he collects his senses and rests. He slumps down to sit on the sidewalk, barely able to stand anymore. He searches his pockets for his phone to call a ride, or at least to find someone near border territory to watch his back. He is about to dial up Yuki when a feeling of dread creeps up on him. He looks up from his phone, eyes widening in terror as sees the darkness spilling out of the club. He nearly fumbles his phone as he scrambles up, falling over once or twice before he managed to actually get on his feet and run. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him moving. He had to get out of the purple district, make it to the deepest reaches of UG territory and never leave again.