First, I own nothing to do with True Blood. I'm just a huge fan, especially of Eric and Sookie. I'm just doing this for my own entertainment and hopefully, the entertainment of others as well. I'm still writing my other story, I just felt like writing something fresh and a bit different.
I know, I keep coming up with strange stories. But this one stuck with me, and it's probably too weird. Eric and Sookie are soul mates in this one. Has that been overdone? Anyone, if you would be interested in more of this one, do feel free to let me know. I'd love to know whether you think it's stupid, silly, crazy, something that interests you, or otherwise. So please don't hesitate to let me know :)
The Mark
It had started when Eric woke from his coffin feeling less than his usual badass self. Dare he admit it to himself, he felt like he was experiencing some kind of cold- a typical human ailment. He felt heady, and lethargic for reasons he could not understand. For nearly a thousand-years straight he had felt his very best, and then a week ago, out of nowhere, he had started feeling like... shit.
It did not go unnoticed by his progeny, Pamela. She had noticed his moods were temperamental at best, ranging from psychotic to miserable at the drop of a hat. He no longer felt the urge to fuck any humans and to a vampire like Eric fucking Northman, who many humans declared was walking sex on a stick, it was bizarre for her to have to witness. Not to mention equally disturbing and troubling on her.
He was simply not himself lately and for Pam, who had been at her Maker's side for over a hundred years now, it was seriously concerning her deeply. Not only did she have to see him look so bad with his fluctuating moods, she had also felt him through their Maker-Progeny bond. He was acting like a bipolar human lately; A mopey teen.
When she found him one night going through the books at his desk, she decided to bring it up with him then. "What the fuck is wrong with you lately?" she asked him in outrage, setting her manicured hands on her hips as she stood by the door, looking in. "You're Eric fucking Northman! You have humans lining up to fuck you left, right, and center, and yet, you're in here doing paperwork, of all things? What has happened to you?"
"I'm not feeling so good, Pam," he admitted to her, with shame. He was not proud for her to have to see him this way- so... unpredicatable and listless lately.
"No shit, Eric." He sounded just as terrible as he was feeling; His voice raspy and painful, and it broke her heart to see him this way. "You've been this way all week. This is so not you!" Suddenly Pam recalled the human he had fed from last week- the human woman looked trashy and grubby- and it all instantly made sense. "Oh, fuck Eric," she hissed anxiously. "That human you fed from last week that night! I told you something was wrong with her. She probably gave you whatever filthy fucking disease she had!"
"No, she didn't smell diseased to me, Pam," Eric argued, shoving all the paperwork aside on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, putting his shoes on the table while rubbing his temples with his fingers, trying to ease the painful cramping around his skull. "It can't be her. I don't know what it is, but it can't be her."
"Then what the fuck is going on here?" she cried hopelessly.
Pam had meant that as a simple rhetorical question but the simmering of rage that passed through her Maker onto her made her wish she had kept her mouth shut. Eric's eyes were dark with rage and his fangs flipped down at her.
"How the fuck am I supposed to know, Pam?" He erupted loudly at her through gritted teeth and she flinched. She had to put up with his explosive and volatile moods like this all week and still, it managed to catch her off-guard each and everytime. Still, angry Eric was better than emotional, crying Eric. "Don't you think I would very much like to know the answer to that myself?"
"Well, then. Maybe we should consider calling Dr. Ludwig so she can tell us what the fuck is wrong with you? She'll know what to do."
"Give it another week, Pam," Eric said dismissively. Truth be told, even as a vampire, he was still terrified of doctors, no matter how short and Hobbit-like Dr. Ludwig was. It made him shudder; Simply thinking about calling the doctor.
Then he felt it. A terrible itch precisely in the middle of his back, unreachable by his hands.
He started panicking then. He had never felt this low and weak before, not once in a thousand-years. Maybe Pam was right? Maybe that pathetically desperate human he had fed on that night had given him a sexually transmitted disease or something?
Pam felt her stomach drop in despair when she watched her maker start shuffling around in the chair, rubbing himself up and down against it with his back. She feared then that he was starting to lose his mind. When he started making low appreciative groans from at the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering closed in relief, Pam wondered if he truly had lost it. "What the fuck are you doing now?" she asked him, confused.
"What?" He stopped rubbing himself against the armrest of the chair, lifting his eyebrows at her quizically. "I'm itchy, Pam."
Itchy? Oh, hell, that wasn't good. It wasn't a good sign at all.
"Your itchy?" Pam repeated, her voice panic-striken. "Eric, you have never been itchy before. I'm telling you; That stupid human gave you a disease or something! In all the years I have been with you so far, fucking and killing and laughing, you have never once itched! Can't you see? The whore gave you a sexually transmitted disease or something! I owned a brothel, Eric, I think I'd know a thing or two about diseases!"
While Eric felt touched by her concern, it was grating on his nerves. "I don't mean itching near my junk, Pam," he clarified loudly, rolling his eyes at her. "It's my back!"
"Isn't this reason enough that we should call Dr. Ludwig?"
"No, no Dr. Ludwig. Do you know what I truly need, Pam?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes filled with pity. "What?"
When he rose to his full height, stepping closer to where Pam was standing while his hands worked at unbuttoning the black shirt he was wearing, she felt her lips lift into a smirk. He couldn't possibly mean them fucking? Surely now wasn't the time? They hadn't fucked in over a year!
"Seriously, Eric? You want me to-"
He cut her off desperately as he tore the fabric of his shirt off his shoulders, chucking it behind him carelessly, "Scratch my back for me, will you?"
He turned away from her so Pam couldn't see anything else but the paleness of his toned back and the way his jeans rode low around his pelvis. Instead of putting her in a good mood, she felt even more distressed when she saw what was on his back. There was a mark there; A mark that hadn't been there before had developed, a red bumpy mark. It was not known that a vampire could get rashes or develop some kind of skin fungus, but clearly her maker had.
"Oh god," she gasped sadly, taking in the round mark of blistering skin with some confusion. "What have you done to yourself?"
"What do you mean?" Eric asked, and he sounded absolutely clueless. "I haven't done anything, Pam?"
"But there's a big fucking rash on your back?"
"What?" Eric turned, meeting her eyes. She saw nothing but confusion in his eyes, bewilderment around his face. "I'm itchy, right up in the middle of my back. Even now, it's... irritating. Can you just scratch it for me already?" He was growing aggravated. Clearly this was one rash that needed to be itched, and quickly.
Pam hesitated, scrutinizing her neatly trimmed fingernails. She had only just gotten them professionally manicured. It wasn't cheap. "With these artfully decorated nails?"
"Oh, so you care more about your nails than you do your poor maker. Is that it, Pam?"
"Of course not," she shot back at him testily. "But if you get dead skin and blood under my nails, you're paying for it."
Eric's mischievous, low laughter filled her ears and she couldn't help smiling fondly at the sound of it. "Fair enough, Pam. If I end up mucking up your nails, I'll pay for your next manicure."
"You already did pay for them," she pointed out, bracing herself, her fingers arched like claws near the nape of his neck.
"I knew that already, Pam. Trust me."
"Okay, here we go. Brace yourself, fucker."
Much as Pam adored Eric, this was not a pleasant experience on her. The first raking of her fingernails down his back made Eric grunt in pleasure and shiver from head-to-toe, while in contrast, it made Pam very nearly gag at the sensation of having his old skin catch in the tips of her fingernails. When she lifted her hand, inspecting her nails in distaste, surely enough she could see the peels of dead and dry skin that had come off his back along with it. When she looked at the rash on his back, she observed with horror that half of his skin had came off, making way for new skin. There was something underneath the skin, some kind of mark or branding. This reminded her of what happens to lowly humans when they get sunburns.
"That's weird," she muttered to herself, as she dug her thumbnail from the start of the rash, downwards, taking a lot more skin with it, picking and pulling it off. "God, Eric. You're like a reptilian shedding skin. This is disgusting, but there's definitely something there."
"Something there?"
Eric turned to look at her again, but she grabbed him by the shoulder roughly warning him to keep still. Grabbing the last bit of skin between her thumb and forefinger, she yanked the last of it down without warning. It obviously wasn't hurting her maker; He made no sign of discomfort whatsoever. If anything, he made another low grumble of relief.
Pam was silent for a very long minute, turning her head this way and that way, trying to decipher what the mark said on his back. It looked like two S's to her, although she couldn't be sure. After a moment of silent consideration, Eric sighed impatiently and looked back at her quizzically. Her bright red lipstick painted lips were pinched thoughtfully.
"Well?" He prodded hoarsely. "What... what was it, Pam?"
"I don't know," she admitted with a shrug.
"You don't know?" Eric repeated, disappointed. "What do you mean you don't know, Pam?"
"Well, it looks like a mark, that's what it looks like. After I removed all those sheds of skin from the rash, it looked like a letter of the alphabet. An S. Two S's."
"Two S's?" Eric repeated, stunned. He had never heard anything like this at all. "Meaning what?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know, Eric? God, I don't know. But maybe it's someone's initials? Who the fuck knows what it means? For all we know, it could mean jack shit." Taking him by the bare, muscular shoulders roughly, she started steering and guiding him along to where the mirror was in the staff restrooms. "Look at it for yourself."
Eric looked at his reflection, but all he could see was how great his body was. How athletic and toned, a Viking God.
"Pam, I know how good looking I am," he told her slyly. "I know my body is the-"
"- Get the eff over yourself already," Pam snapped, shoving him into another position, another angle so that he could properly see the mark on his back. When he finally caught sight of it, Eric was silent for a very long moment, too flabbergasted to speak. What was the meaning of this? He definitely didn't have any mark of the sort like that before- and he'd know, he enjoyed watching his reflection and admiring how badass and handsome he was every now and then.
He tore his eyes from his reflection to stare at Pam instead. He swallowed loudly. "What the hell is going on with me?" he asked her fearfully.
Pam would have loved to know the answer to that herself.
SXEXSXE
THAT SAME TIME IN HOSPITAL...
"God, fuck! I can't take this any more! Get her out, please!"
Michelle Stackhouse's strangled cries as she thrashed around in the hospital bed weren't doing Corbett any favors in relaxing as he paced back and forth around the room in the hospital. It had been a long labor with Michelle experiencing her first contraction in the early morning hours. Now, it was eleven thirty at night, and both Corbett and Michelle felt equally drained and wrought with overwhelming emotions. They both just really wanted it to be over already.
Their second child, a girl, was on her way to being delivered into the wonderful, big world and Corbett had never felt more scared yet ecstatic in his life. Their first child Jason was currently being babysat at his mother Adele's house, and in a couple of hours time, Jason would finally have the sibling he had been wishing for.
This latest pregnancy hadn't been as easy on Michelle as it had been with Jason.
They had a scare at four months in, when the doctor in the hospital had declared he hadn't found a heartbeat and that Michelle was not pregnant after all. But after getting a second opinion by an older, more experienced doctor, their fears vanished when he had confirmed it was an error with the ultrasound and that their baby was perfectly healthy. Not only was the child healthy and strong with its heartbeat, it was a girl this time around.
A boy and a girl. The perfect, complete happy family.
"It hurts," Michelle was wailing, clutching her swollen belly miserably. "Corbett, it hurts so badly! I want her out!"
"Stay calm, Michelle," Corbett brought himself to speak weakly, approaching the bed. He reached out, touching her hot belly gently. "You have to remain calm. Remember the maternity nurse telling us that last time with Jason? You have to remain calm so that our little baby girl isn't stressed herself, all right?"
"Sookie," Michelle said out of nowhere, and she started moaning and writhing again. "We're calling her Sookie and I don't care if you think it's a shit name! I'm the one giving birth to this baby, I'm the one in pain, so I think it's only fair I get to call the shots on what to name her!"
"Sookie?" Corbett was hardly enthused about that name, it sounded weird and foreign to him. Like an Asian name, not a good Southern name. Yet when Michelle focused on him with glassy, pained eyes, it was a fierce look that shut him up pretty quickly. Instead, he smiled and took her hand, which she clung onto like it was a rope that could save her. "Sookie is the most beautiful, perfect name for her, baby," he said gently. "Sookie's absolutely perfect. Why would I argue with you on that?"
Finally, the baby was on its way out, the nurses and doctors came in to assist, encouraging Michelle to push, and Corbett had to quickly look away. It was becoming too much on him.
It was only when he heard the first cry of the baby that he turned and he felt his eyes well up with tears when he saw Michelle holding their little baby girl in her arms, her tiny face near her breasts. She had a small smattering of light hair on the top of her head and when Corbett approached the bed, Michelle looked up at him, crying softly in joy.
"Sookie," she said happily, her voice breathless with exhaustion. "This is our daughter Sookie."
After they got familiarized with their baby, the nurse took her for a moment to weigh her and ensure she was a safe weight and that she had all her fingers and toes.
"Congratulations," the female nurse said in a soothing voice once she was done with the checkup. "She's perfect and healthy. Her weight is a bit small but after a few good feeds, she'll fatten up quite quickly. The only thing is that she has a birthmark on the back of her neck, but that is nothing to be concerned about. In fact, it's quite common and completely harmless."
Corbett sat on the edge of the bed carefully as the nurse handed their baby back to them. They both looked at the birthmark curiously. The skin on the back of her neck was pink and mottled, shaped like an E and an N, strangely enough.
"Looks like initials," Corbett said, touching the skin with care. Her skin was smooth and soft, the mark not raised or out of place on her skin at all.
"Yes, that's odd, isn't it?" The nurse laughed. "It sure does look like an E and an N, but all birthmarks come in different shapes or sizes. They call it a Stork bite, if you wanna get technical. Or an angel's kiss or salmon patch, whatever you prefer to call it. It's harmless, Mr. and Mrs. Stackhouse, I assure you."
Once Michelle started dozing off with baby Sookie, Corbett stood quietly from the hospital bed and excused himself for a moment to ring his mother to inform her and Jason of the news that Sookie had arrived, perfect as can be. He even filled Adele in on the birthmark on the back of her neck.
If only he knew what that birthmark had truly entailed...
SXEXSXE
TWENTY YEARS LATER...
The heavy metal music was pumping loudly around the room at Fangtasia as Eric sat up in his chair, watching the humans around him move. Two humans, two women, stood directly in front of him and they kept glancing up at him to make sure his attention was solely on them while they moved; bumping hips and grinding against each other. The two might as well be fucking right there on the dance floor, Eric thought to himself, and he had to stifle a smile.
He wasn't one for smiling, especially not while on duty up there in his chair. If he smiled, the humans would mistakenly believe he was smiling at them and they would try to approach, thinking he was inviting them to come on to him. It was hilariously pathetic; How humans somehow got it into their thick skulls that they were a match to him. Far as Eric was concerned, he was a Viking God, one that no humans could ever be worthy of. He had to admit it was rather amusing, watching human after human attempt to capture his interests.
That evening, with the two women, it was no different.
He stared at the pair impassively, raking his eyes down their bodies every now and then. So their show was fairly entertaining, but neither of them were all that good looking. Eric did not like humans, and he prided himself on not having any special feelings for them. He hadn't yet met a human he did feel especially attracted to, not once in that full century of living- aside from Pam before he made her into what she was, of course.
The only thing these humans had going for them was what was inside of them, their blood. Blood bags, the whole lot of them. Vermin. Cows with brains.
All the way from where he was sitting, with his heightened sense of hearing, he could hear the friction of their tiny denim shirts rubbing together. The little groans the pair made every time they brushed against each other. He opened his mouth slightly, inhaling in their arousal. They were turning each other on. Instead of feeling turned on himself, Eric felt the opposite. His nose wrinkled in disgust and he let his left eye wander to where Pam was watching the pair herself with avid interest, her hand on her hip. Lifting his hand off the armrest, Eric gestured for Pam to come to him, and she did without hesitation, climbing up the stage in her heels and resting her hip against the back of his chair.
Leaning down, she put her mouth near his ear, proceeding to speak in Swedish, "Look at them. What a bunch of horny idiots."
"They are pathetic," Eric replied to her emotionlessly. "Is it just me or do they get even more pathetic every year?"
"Oh, no. It most definitely isn't just you."
One of the women decided she was bored with dancing and to their disbelief, she had the nerve to approach the stage, going so far as to get up on her knees, then stand, walking towards them confidently.
"Is she stupid or is she brave?" Pam said in surprise, still in Swedish.
Eric's eyebrows rose at the girl as she smiled coyly at him. This one was definitely daring. And senseless. "Stupid," he said quickly, before rising to his feet and holding his hand out to the young woman, laying it on thick with the charm.
The woman looked shocked for all of a minute before she shook her brown hair out across her shoulders, a cocky smile coming across her face. She stumbled closer in her heels to accept his much larger hand and, playing it up even more, he raised her hand to his lips in a suave yet privately mocking way. He was trying to amuse Pam, and he knew he had succeeded when he heard the derisive laughter that got stuck in her throat. The girl knew no different, however. She just blushed, probably not quite willing to believe her luck in being the object of Eric Northman's attention this evening.
"Haven't you heard not to play with your food, Eric?" Pam spoke in Swedish, her voice singing with malicious amusement.
"You're right, Pam. I have heard that."
Scaring the young woman, he retracted his fangs while grabbing her waist, pulling her in close. She struggled but she was no match for him and when Eric moved his mouth closer to her neck, her struggles grew even more vigorous and intense. She was fun for a good minute or two, until he quickly felt himself growing bored again, so he pushed her off the stage carelessly and she staggered into the woman she had been dirty-dancing with ungraciously. She looked up at him, a curse word on her tongue for him in anger, and being the asshole that he loved to be, Eric simply winked at her before lowering himself back into his seat. He watched the woman he had played with stalk off through the crowd and his grin widened when he heard his progeny's laughter in his ear.
"You're as cold a bastard as ever, I see," she said, erupting into more laughter and when he shot a look in her direction, lifting an eyebrow, she tried to suppress her laughter by mashing her bright pink lips together. It only just made a swell of tenderness run through him.
"Always for your entertainment only," he told Pam softly, and he meant it.
Marring through what he felt was a touching moment with his Pam, he felt the mark in the center of his back itch again and he sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders around to try to ease it. The itching had happened constantly ever since the mark had formed on him, sometimes at random times, and it was irritating as ever, even after twenty years of having to endure it. A year after it had developed and after constant pestering from Pam to get Dr. Ludwig to check it out, Eric had finally agreed.
Much to his disappointment, there was nothing Dr. Ludwig could do. She hadn't any idea what the mark represented. All she had recommended was that he feel free to scratch it whenever the urge presented itself, as clearly it couldn't have gotten any worse if he did scratch it constantly. It was annoying as fuck, though.
And poor Pam, she had been employed as permanent back-scratcher all throughout the twenty years.
"Be a good daughter and give it a scratch, will you?" Eric suggested to Pam, knowing full well she didn't enjoy it when she did have to, and yet wickedly enjoying it.
"Fine," she sighed unhappily.
Pam had no choice but to comply to his wishes; She yanked the neck of his shirt loose at the back so she could slip her fingers and arm down inside, and she started scratching dutifully. Eric's eyes rolled back inside his head and Pam felt him shudder. While it irritated her, having to scratch Eric's back and have her nails feel disgusting afterwards, she couldn't deny she would do anything within her capabilities to offer her maker at least a slice of relief. So scratching his mark, it was.
SXEXSXE
Several nights later, Sookie snuck in the storeroom at Merlotte's, resting her shoulder against the wall to give herself some balance, shoving her pencil down the back of her neck so that she could reach her birthmark, scratching away.
She sighed in relief, pleased that she could at least reach it with the tip of her pencil. It had been giving her grief all day. Lately, her birthmark had been itching like crazy on her. She wasn't entirely sure why. She had considered getting it checked out by one of those professional skin doctors, but her Gran had assured her it was just a harmless birthmark. That didn't explain why it kept bothering her the way it did.
But really, who was she kidding? It was the least of her worries, the niggling itchiness of her birthmark.
Sometimes she enjoyed doing this; In sneaking into the quiet, empty storeroom alone. It wasn't just only so that she could scratch her back in private using her pencil. It was... everything. The constant noise around the bar, the thoughts that assaulted her constantly daily. It was just nice to sneak away a couple of times and have a bit of time to herself, to catch a break.
Once she felt satisfied for the time being, she straightened up her ponytail and pulled her white shirt down neatly over her shorts before bracing herself and heading back out. She put one of her helpful smiles strategically in place before getting back into it; In going around the room, making sure customers were pleased with their meals and drinks and checking if they needed anything else.
One of the regulars was being a real pain with her tonight. He had come in every night for the past two weeks, always staring at her and trying to make casual conversation with her. He was fairly good looking, about a couple of years older than her twenty-one years. She could hear the lewd comments he was thinking about her, every time she walked past him. He'd think about how good her legs looked in her shorts, he'd wonder if she was available to take out on a date. And she was available; Sookie couldn't recall a time when she wasn't.
She hadn't been much of a dater, simply because she could hear what people were thinking of her, and it was hard to maintain a normal relationship with a man otherwise. Really, she hadn't met a man who she had felt insanely attracted to yet, but that didn't mean she didn't long to meet a handsome, captivating stranger every now and then. It would have been nice to no longer feel so alone in the world.
But no man had captured her attention as yet, and if she was going to start considering dating someone, she would have preferred it to be with a man whose thoughts she couldn't hear. It was hard to find a suitable man whose thoughts she couldn't however.
Unless they were a vampire, of course...
Vampires had come out into the open just only three years ago and she had only met a vampire once, when he had entered the bar. She had served him, as he choose to sit in her partition. To her delight, she found that his mind was completely silent to her, that she couldn't hear an ounce of what he was thinking or feeling in regards to the sight of her. It had been an exciting discovery to know that vampires could offer her the silence she had so long sought. But would she ever consider dating a vampire? On that, she was undecided. That didn't mean she didn't like vampires or that she was as hateful as some of the people were in town. In fact, she was impartial to it all.
But darn it, if there weren't times she didn't wish a vampire would randomly pop into the bar so she could experience that brilliant silence again...
She got through the last half of her shift before her neck started irritating her again, so when she made sure nobody was looking, she closed herself off into the storeroom again. She had only slipped the pencil under the fabric of her shirt when her boss, Sam, suddenly entered the storeroom without warning and she gasped fearfully.
"Hey, Sook. What you doing back here?"
"Sorry, Sam. My birthmark has just been giving me grief lately. I really had to scratch it, and I don't feel it's at all that polite to do it in front of customers while they are eating. Don't exactly want to turn them off their food!"
Sam had always been a fair and decent boss to her. So she was relieved when he simply smiled and stepped past her to open a few boxes of beers that were running low in the fridge out at the bar.
"You ever thought about getting it checked out, Cher?" he asked her as he crouched down by a few other boxes, reading the labels carefully.
"Gran says there isn't much point to it. It's just a birthmark."
"Yeah, but... if it's been bothering you?" He looked her over with some concern. "If it's bothering you all the time, that can't be all that normal, right?"
"Yeah, I've definitely wondered about it. But I'm assuming they'll just say the same thing Gran has told me." Sookie watched Sam curiously as he opened another box, pulling out two bottles of synthetic blood. She felt her heart pick up a notch in her chest. "Wait. We finally got some more vampire customers coming in here tonight?"
"Yep, we do," Sam said, shrugging. "Two of them."
Oh, finally. Finally she was going to have a bit of silence to drown everyone else out...
Sookie felt more excited than what was probably healthy and smart of her. She felt her smile widen and when Sam glanced back at her, he gave her a weird look. Was she acting too overeager by the news? "Should I be the one to serve them?"
"Well, you might as well. They are in your area, Cher."
"Don't worry. I'll try keep my scratching to a minimum," she told him playfully, and at that, she rushed back out, leaving Sam alone in the storeroom.
When she got back into the room, Sookie closed her eyes for a moment, swept up in the peace and quiet that came along with the two vampires presence in the bar. It was like soaking your feet in cool water after having been standing on them all day long. It was relieving and it relaxed her like nothing else on the planet.
When she slowly reopened her eyes, she followed the silence, finding the two vampires almost immediately at once. They were sitting across from one another at a table. One was facing away from her so she could only see his blonde head, while the other facing her was dark-haired, with old-fashioned sideburns. Halfway towards the two and with her tense smile in place, the dark-haired vampires eyes flitted to her. The other blonde vampire, following the others gaze, turned to look curiously over his shoulder himself. That was when her birthmark started playing up again on her, like crazy. She tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the discomfort. But it was seriously hard work.
Once Sookie finally reached them, the dark-haired man looked away. The blonde vampire didn't however, and she grew self-conscious as his clear blue eyes looked her up and down shamelessly, lingering on her face and particularly her bare legs in her shorts. The vampire was handsome, at least; Perhaps more handsome than his dark-haired companion. His hair was parted and slicked back neatly behind his earlobes, and from what she could see of him, he was wearing leather and all-black clothes. He had a strong nose, the pale skin that most vampires had which made his lovely eyes stand out, a dimple in the center of his chin. But he had an air of arrogance that radiated off him like a separate life-force.
"I was just telling my friend Bill over here that this place is so much smaller than how it looks on the outside," the blonde vampire said to her, his voice deep and attractive. "Boring, too. What's with the décor and all the dead animals on the walls?"
Sookie felt suddenly on the defensive, as if he had insulted her himself. "Well, that's because Sam likes it this way," she explained to him stiffly. "I happen to think it has a lot of... character." She noticed a distinctively uncomfortable look come across the blonde vampires expression and subtly, he moved his hand to the back of his neck, under the collar of his leather jacket. It appeared as if he was scratching his back, and seeing the vampire do it, it made her envious that she couldn't relieve herself and scratch hers with her pencil. "Anyhow, what can I get you both tonight?"
"Yes, I believe it is safe to assume that both Eric and I will have a TruBlood, if you have any available?" The dark-haired vampire spoke politely yet curtly, his voice heavily Southern.
She looked at the blonde vampire out of the corner of her eye. He was rubbing his back against the seat in the booth, as if he had a severe itch.
"Sure, we do. In fact, Sam just only got some out of the storeroom, so you're in luck." She let her eyes drift back to the blonde vampire. She arched her eyebrows. "Feeling itchy, are we?"
The blonde vampire nodded once. "Tremendously."
She caught a glimpse of the tips of his shining white fangs as he spoke the word. She felt fascination take hold of her, but she knocked it away quickly.
"Oh, I know the feeling. Been itching like crazy lately." Before she could stop herself, she lifted her arm back over her head, shoving her pencil under her shirt to scratch at her neck again. Then she noticed the two vampires exchanged a look with one another, and suddenly she felt foolish. "Uh, excuse me," she said nervously. "Anyway, I'll be right back with your drinks. Don't mind me."
It was only when Sookie walked towards the bar to fetch and prepare their drinks off Sam, getting some distance between the two, that she noticed the itchiness of her birthmark dissipated, if slightly.
So... what did you think? Worth continuing or was it too weird and silly? Too out of character? Please let me know your thoughts.
Thanks for reading! :)