Arriving in Copenhagen

Silently the once bold, happy viking, takes his place on the bed, looking down the entire time. He hates it, all this looking down, it's a form of submission unto itself, him telling her that he is lower, that she can see him, but that is all. Razzle's stomach churns with the unease of a lack of control.

The man stretches out his arms and legs for her to get it over with, he won't argue because that could lead to her harming him once more. His protests seem to make her... Hungry. A shiver runs up his spine.

At least he'll be alone.

Jenevieve made quick work in tying up Razzle's limbs so he couldn't move. She then took out a bottle of whisky and sat down on the bed next to him.

She placed the rim of the bottle to his lips.

"Drink" the vampire ordered.

Razzle nearly gags when the alcohol comes to his lips, it makes him want to get sick all over again... He detests it, but he doesn't have much of a choice.

Very cautiously he takes a swig of the substance; it's bitter in his mouth, like toxic chemicals on his tastebuds. His body tries to cough it up, but he powers through and forces it down, all of it down, down into his gut. The liquid trails along the sides of his mouth and onto his shirt, making him reek of the toxic spirits.

In his moment, feeling so sick, tired and depressed, Razzle contemplates his suicide.

Once he had consumed more than half of the bottle she was satisfied. His bindings left enough room that should he vomit he wouldn't choke on himself.

Soon the liquor would cause him to pass out.

The woman then stood up, got herself dressed and pretty looking, and walked away.

She left Razzle there and informed the front desk that he was intoxicated but harmless, that way if he did make any noise they wouldn't be suspicious.

And then she hit the streets of Copenhagen, curious to see what this city had to offer a young vampire such as herself.

As predicted, the former viking lets out moans, wails of pain and agony that seem to bellow from his trembling stomach. He vomits as well, all over his chest, relieving him of the toxic drink.

After a few more struggling wails, the immortal finally blacks out, his body wrecked from the day, his wrists chaffed from the rope.

His spirit broken into tiny pieces.