OOMs and an EP

[onceaviking]

{It's been a while, but things have gone down now in Louisiana.
Eric is under the spell of the witch and Bill is the host of a Living Dead Alliance Tolerance do.

Sookie to the rescue!
Warnings: blood, violence, casual disregard of human life, the banishment of Puppy!Eric.
Forgotten where we left off a year and a half ago, look here.}

The door opens and a tall, pale vampire wearing light brown pants and a blood soaked, white grandpa shirt walks through.

There's a brief hesitation as he realizes where he is. Then he runs a hand through his hair and proceeds with the assured walk of of someone who knows who he is and knows what he wants.

Eric Northman and someone to eat respectively.

See?
Easy.

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

Some time after, the door opens again. A slight, pale figure wearing a black tank top and a leather kilt walks through. His head is down, preoccupied with texting on his cell phone, only glancing up when the club music blaring at his back cuts off as the door closes behind him. He's hot and sweaty, having spent the night dancing, and is in need of a drink.

As he heads to the bar, someone catches his eye. And his gaze travels up and up, the bloodied shirt both horrifying and familiar at the same time. And then his jaw drops--

"Eric-!"

It's been a while.

[onceaviking]

Eric looks at him. Impassively.
Then he lifts one eyebrow, just a fraction.

"Emcee."

Someone's back.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee steps closer, searching his face.

And then it hits like a brick. Or a wave. Or a wave of bricks. In any case, Emcee is stunned, because this-- this is Eric.

He might hyperventilate and pass out if he doesn't calm himself down.

"Herr Northman," he says breathlessly, "is it really you?"

[onceaviking]

He almost smirks a little.

"Oh yes," he says. "Very much so."

[i_am_your_host]

Indeed, there is absolutely nothing about Eric right now that makes Emcee want to coddle and protect him. The puppy-ish innocence is completely gone.

And...Emcee doesn't know how to feel about that yet.

"Well-- welcome back, darling," he says, his own lips twitching into a smile. And then--

"Fuck, I need a drink."

He quickly turns to the bar and orders a chilled red wine, almost immediately gulping down a mouthful.

[onceaviking]

A folded, black tank top appears next to Emcee's wine.
With a note.

Eric takes it, reads it, huffs, and pulls off his blood soaked shirt.

And then he takes his time unfolding the to and putting it on.

[i_am_your_host]

Mmmh.

Emcee leans against the bar, wine glass in hand, watching him.

"I'm not here two minutes yet, and already you are giving me palpitations," he accuses him dryly, before taking a more rational sip. "But it is good to see you again."

He knows he's not going to get a good to see you too in return so he continues, "What happened?"

[onceaviking]

Good call, Emcee.

Eric looks at him and says,"Fairy magic."

Because that's what passes for sane now, apparently.
"Sookie burned me with her - light."

He barely suppresses rolling his eyes.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee blinks up at him, eyebrows raised. "It took fairy magic to break the witch's spell on you?" he says, processing this. He has so many questions!

"And-- and you have all your memories back?"

[sunbaked_baker]

This is not someone to eat.

She has gotten new scars from those who've tried, since she saw him last. More than that since she last saw him as himself. Because she can tell the difference; there's no need to ask if he has regained the parts of himself that had been taken from him.

"Should I say 'welcome back'?" asks the baker by the bar, smelling of wheat and barley and rye, of butter and milk and salt, of clean sweat and soap.

[onceaviking]

He turns and looks at her.

"I'd say so," he replies.
"What are you having?"

He'll pay for it. This once. And that is all the acknowledgement she will get.
For - being useful.

(Helping isn't a word he'd use).

[sunbaked_baker]

She imagines that "kindness" isn't, either.

"You offering?" She raises an eyebrow. "Sangria, then."

She couldn't exactly resist the pun.

Though of the two of them, she likes her drinks light on the sang-.

[onceaviking]

He snorts and says, "That and a TruBlood O neg."

The drinks appear and he downs half the bottle in one go.

He is hungry.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Thank you," she says, taking the tall, curved glass that appears.

Sunshine's drink is a clearer red than Eric's, and tinged purple with the blood of crushed summer fruits and berries.

Vicious.

"Mind me asking how you got back to yourself?" She's curious what could break a curse laid on a vampire.

[onceaviking]

"Sookie hit med with her fairy light. Must have burned it off."

Because fairy light is a thing now.
He takes a smaller so of his TruBlood.

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine sips her own drink - it's delicious and cold.

"Well, light is good for that sort of thing, I suppose," she says with some hesitation.

"Is that as weird an occurrence as it sounds like it is?"

Fairy light?

[onceaviking]

"It's weirder. Fairies are - they tend to keep their distance. And Sookie is a human fairy hybrid and gas no idea what the fuck she is doing with it.'

He shrugs.

[witchfinder_general]

And here's somebody sitting at a table with tea and a stack of books who is still likely to disapprove.

[onceaviking]

Some things never change.

Eric gives Father Hermann a slow, discreetly fanged smile.

[witchfinder_general]

"Good morning," Father Harman says. "It seems you're not completely dead after all, but somebody is."

[onceaviking]

"Yes. Other vampires. You should be pleased."

[witchfinder_general]

"How many?"

[onceaviking]

"A couple. Tomorrow, we are going to kill a witch."

[witchfinder_general]

"Is that a common occurrence in your world?" Harman asks, sounding dubious.

[onceaviking]

"Luckily not. I fucking hate witches."