Pam Swynford De Beaufort (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lazy_but_loyal) wrote2018-03-31 11:20 pm
lazy_but_loyal) wrote2018-03-31 11:20 pm
OOM - Face
The shots that Dr. Ludwig prescribed to Pam were already beginning to work. Thank fuck.
It fell on Ginger to administer them, six shots every four hours as directed. It wasn't an easy task, what with Pam viciously swearing through the pain as those giant needles sunk into her flesh. And her temples. But it was all worth it, because after the third round, a thin film of nearly translucent skin had formed over Pam's body. As she lay resting in her pink satin-lined coffin in the basement of Fangtasia, she whiled away the time thinking of pleasant things, like revenge.
And then came a phone call from Bill. Phone calls from Bill were never a good thing.
Ginger held the cell phone to Pam's regenerating ear as he delivered the news: Marnie had escaped, so vampires must chain themselves down with silver, or else her daywalking spell would force them out into the sunshine.
Well, shit.
Pam had no choice. So after Ginger gave her the latest round of shots before the sun came up, Pam braced herself.
Ginger laid a sheet of silver chainmail over Pam's still-healing face and quickly shut the coffin lid as Pam shrieked like a banshee. The silver burned through her skin, filling the coffin with the stench of it.
It sucked.
It sucked even more when the sun rose and the witch's spell swept over her, making her bang on the locked lid, violently shaking the entire coffin. She couldn't control herself. She screamed to be let out.
But steadfast Ginger did what she could to help. She climbed onto the rattling coffin and rode it like a bucking bronco. All the while screaming in terrified reply.
Dignity, thy name is Ginger.
*****
The spell passed. And all was quiet.
"Get this thing off of me," was Pam's muffled demand. She was fully in control of herself once more.
When Ginger lifted the lid of the coffin, she hesitated.
"Just get it over with!"
It really was best to rip the chainmail off Pam's melted, bloody face in one go. Really. It was.
And in a snarling, blind rage from pain and hunger, Pam grabbed Ginger and nearly pulled her into the coffin as she bit down on her throat.
Pam was desperate. And fucking hungry. She would never speak of this and would glamour Ginger into forgetting it ever happened.
*****
Pam stood in front of a mirror. Eyeing her reflection, she slowly turned her face to the left, and then to the right. She prodded at her chin, her nose, her cheeks, her lips.
Her skin and features had been completely restored. Faint purple veins still showed through the new epidermis, but that could easily be covered up with makeup. She would have to keep up with the regimen of injections (forever) to preserve this look, but, well, she was pleased. Very pleased indeed.
But then her cell phone rang.
It was Bill again.
He, along with Eric, Sookie, the local vampire sheriffs, and his own armed guards, were going to confront Marnie and her coven in the graveyard tonight. Would she be willing to help?
Oh, fuck yeah.
It fell on Ginger to administer them, six shots every four hours as directed. It wasn't an easy task, what with Pam viciously swearing through the pain as those giant needles sunk into her flesh. And her temples. But it was all worth it, because after the third round, a thin film of nearly translucent skin had formed over Pam's body. As she lay resting in her pink satin-lined coffin in the basement of Fangtasia, she whiled away the time thinking of pleasant things, like revenge.
And then came a phone call from Bill. Phone calls from Bill were never a good thing.
Ginger held the cell phone to Pam's regenerating ear as he delivered the news: Marnie had escaped, so vampires must chain themselves down with silver, or else her daywalking spell would force them out into the sunshine.
Well, shit.
Pam had no choice. So after Ginger gave her the latest round of shots before the sun came up, Pam braced herself.
Ginger laid a sheet of silver chainmail over Pam's still-healing face and quickly shut the coffin lid as Pam shrieked like a banshee. The silver burned through her skin, filling the coffin with the stench of it.
It sucked.
It sucked even more when the sun rose and the witch's spell swept over her, making her bang on the locked lid, violently shaking the entire coffin. She couldn't control herself. She screamed to be let out.
But steadfast Ginger did what she could to help. She climbed onto the rattling coffin and rode it like a bucking bronco. All the while screaming in terrified reply.
Dignity, thy name is Ginger.
*****
The spell passed. And all was quiet.
"Get this thing off of me," was Pam's muffled demand. She was fully in control of herself once more.
When Ginger lifted the lid of the coffin, she hesitated.
"Just get it over with!"
It really was best to rip the chainmail off Pam's melted, bloody face in one go. Really. It was.
And in a snarling, blind rage from pain and hunger, Pam grabbed Ginger and nearly pulled her into the coffin as she bit down on her throat.
Pam was desperate. And fucking hungry. She would never speak of this and would glamour Ginger into forgetting it ever happened.
*****
Pam stood in front of a mirror. Eyeing her reflection, she slowly turned her face to the left, and then to the right. She prodded at her chin, her nose, her cheeks, her lips.
Her skin and features had been completely restored. Faint purple veins still showed through the new epidermis, but that could easily be covered up with makeup. She would have to keep up with the regimen of injections (forever) to preserve this look, but, well, she was pleased. Very pleased indeed.
But then her cell phone rang.
It was Bill again.
He, along with Eric, Sookie, the local vampire sheriffs, and his own armed guards, were going to confront Marnie and her coven in the graveyard tonight. Would she be willing to help?
Oh, fuck yeah.