Help Wanted

"Sleep is for the weak." Salem quoted as he nestled into his stool. "You folks'll find me here whenever you're ready to head out. I'll be working on putting this fella here out of buisness. Now," Salem said, turning to the man, "What have you folks got to eat here?" A long tongue darted out of his mouth, running over his glistening fangs.

"Little witch, there's nothing you or anyone else could do to make me more gluttonous." Salem said as he eyed the bartender hungrily. "Meat, I don't care what kind, just meat." he said as he forced himself to look away from the plump man and towards the wooden table. He distracted himself from his hunger by looking for patterns within the grain of the wood.

"For a time, maybe a day, but it'll come back. It always does." Salem said as he lifted his head. He looked toward his leader and shrugged. "My handle on him is pretty good. I'm strong enough to keep him walled up most of the time. It's been about fifty years since he got free. He still affects me though. My hunger never satisfied, my thirst never filled." He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. He decided to leave off what he hungered for. That would be for another conversation, another time.

Salem sat, not saying a word for a long stretch of time. For a moment it seemed as if he wouldn't say anything at all. He drew in a long breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd say that it's doubtful, but something tells me you may be right." He released the grip on his nose, but his eyes remained closed. "In the icy grasp of Winter, when death runs free. Survival is a man's only thought. She robs you, Winter. Takes all that makes you good and freezes it, shatters it. She takes away light, warmth, and food. After a few weeks you start to yearn for it. After a month you don't care where it comes from. After two, you take it where you can get it. Even if it's from the carcass of a friend." Salem murmured, thinking back to those cold days. The room seemed to grow colder as he spoke and the man shuddered.

"He comes to you in your dreams at first," Salem's eyes opened slowly. "He tells you how warm it is, how good it taste. He seduces you, prods you, pleads with you. He works you into a frenzy and when you finally snap he's there waiting. As soon as you've taken your fist bite of flesh he's in you. Ingrained in your very core. Most people could just die, but not me. No, I'm a survivor, and he likes that. He's all about survival. He won't let me die, says that I'm cozy." Salem sighed as he looked over at Willow. "Forgive me if I don't want to give specifics. I like you, but we've only just met and I haven't told anyone how it happened."

Salem looked at the scars that marred her body and thought of his own body. Covered in much the same as her's, but over it's entirety. He reached up and touched the large scar on his left cheek, the most prominent of them by far. He waved her comment away with a slight gesture of his hand. "Not many people can. I've learned to accept that." When she mentioned being alone he gave her a sincere smile, his teeth looking just a little less predatory. "Well, looks like you aren't anymore. If this adventure goes right you'll be stuck with me for a very long time. At least, until we see all those worlds out there."

"Fire's the only thing I have to worry about. My friend keeps me safe from everything else." Salem stretched his arms above him, his back creaking and popping as he did so. "I might have to take you up on one of those remedies. Unlike our friend I'm not fond of most weapons, save my fist, and I don't think those will be too effective behind cover."

"Permanent?" A wicked gleam entered Salem's eye at the thought of it. "Permanent sounds good. It'll be nice to be able to sit by the camp fire with you and the others and not have to worry." Salem couldn't help but smirk at the idea. "How would you go about doing it?"