This Quiet Little Mountain Town

Meeting Tweehk and the Humans

After a walk of about ten minutes, Damien put his arm out to stop Kenny and Kyle. Kyle got the message and stopped. Kenny, however, didn't notice the shorter boy due to the fact that he was about 6'5 when Damien was 4'5 and walked straight into Damien's arm, which caught him in the stomach. Kenny fell over and wheezed, curling into a ball with his arms around his stomach. Damien briefly glanced back at him, his face twitching as he tried to keep down a smirk. Turning his head back to it's original position, Damien snorted.
"Serves you right for not looking down, a$$h!t." He said. His voice was serious, but they had both known him long enough to tell he was joking. Damien pointed with one sharp, black-painted nailed finger towards a figure in the distance about a hundred yards away. 
As they got closer, the blob was made clearer and took the form of their friend, Tweek Tweak. Tweek had blonde hair, like Kenny, but his was much more messy. His green button-up shirt was stained with blood and buttoned wrong. Tweek took a swig of coffee from the thermos he carried by his side constantly. It was mixed with blood from a local blood bank, so Tweek always got the fix of blood all Vampires needed. Tweek was one of the Turned, a Vampire who had been bitten but not drained by another Vampire. Before his.. well, technically his death, if they were being technical... he had been addicted to Coffee and was always twitchy and anxious. Now, since Vampires couldn't technically get caffeine highs, Tweek was much calmer than when he was alive.
Tweek spotted the other three Vampires once they were about a hundred feet away, waving frantically and shoving his thermos in the bag that hung by his side. He bounced on the balls of his feet, seemingly either anxious or nervous. Though, technically, they meant the same thing. Whatever.
"H-Hey guys! Is the argument over?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Damien nodded and motioned to the bag.
"Whassin there? It looks fuller than usual." He pointed out. Tweek looked down to his bag before looking back to Damien and shrugging. 
"I p-packed a few extra coffee cans, a few pairs of shoelaces, don't ask, and about four bags of blood." Damien's eyes lit up.
"Sweet dude, what type? Did you get the good kind?" He asked, eyeing the bag.
"O-Negative." Tweek confirmed, nodding his head. Kyle joined Damien in the hungry staring while Kenny retched. 
"Ew. O-Negative sucks." He said. Damien turned to glare at him.
:"Says the one who likes AB Negative and scarfs it down like.. well, like blood! Seriously dude, that stuff is like, really, really rare. Lay off of it, you're gonna drink the world dry, chubbo." Kenny narrowed his eyes, sticking his bottom lip out and wrapping his arms around his stomach protectively.
"I'm not chubby, it's baby fat!" Damien snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, baby fat that you've had for seventeen years. Anyway, Tweek, did you want to come with us to Dad's sentencing for Kenny?" He asked, puncturing the blood bag Tweek gave him with a nail and sucking the crimson out slowly.
"S-Sure, I don't see why not." Tweek shrugged. He turned to Kenny, holding up a bag of blood.
"You sure you don't w-want any, Ken?" Kenny stared at the bag for a second before shrugging and holding out a hand. 
"Sure. I'm f^c(!ng starving right now. I don't even care if it's O-." He said. Tweek grinned and tossed him the blood bag. Kenny caught it with both hands before biting it open with one fang. Cringing at the gritty feeling the plastic gave him as it scraped against his fang, he gulped down the red iron-tasting liquid as fast as he could. It might be his last meal, after all. He was either going to be executed or banished, and if he was banished his blood supply would be cut and he would wither into nothing and die... again. 
Shaking his head and banishing the thoughts, Kenny tossed the empty bag into a waste bin nearby and wiped the leftover O- from his fangs. Kenny winced as his fangs cut his hand open. Instead of blood, mud dripped from the cut. He covered it before the others could see it.
"Well... the Party Pixie says let's get this jam started and leave." He said, wiggling his eyebrows and bringing back the nickname Kyle had created for him when the Ginger was drunk at a part once.
Kyle and Tweek snorted, finding it funny. Damien raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been at the party where Party Pixie was created, having been helping in the stomping out of an uprising against his father, the Vampire King. 
"What the f^c( is a 'Party Pixie'?" Damien asked rudely. He hated being left out on jokes, especially ones that everyone else found funny. 
"It's a nickname Ky over there gave me when he was drunk at a party." Kenny explained. Kyle nodded when Damien looked over, eyebrow raised once more.
Kyle laughed sheepishly.
"Yeah... I gave him that nickname because I thought he was like a Fairy, helping people out at parties... It made sense when I was drunk." He said slowly. Damien just shook his head.
"You guys are so weird... come on, let's go to Kenny's hearing..."
000
Three boys sat in a bedroom. They were all humans, of course, and they were all pretty much as close as friends who had met a week ago could be. One of them had long, flat blonde hair that went an inch past his shoulders and was currently tied up with a red ribbon.
A brown Newsboy hat was squashed over his bangs. He wore a wrinkled hooded sweatshirt with the word LONDON printed across it and brown construction boots over his jeans. Third and second degree burns littered his body. His name was Phillip, or, as everyone knew him, Pip. 
The boy sitting next to Pip on the left wore a blue hat with a red bobble on top of it. Black hair was flattened by the hat, and his brown jacket was somehow devoid of any type of wrinkle. Pip rolled his eyes. The jacket'd probably been starched so many times it could stand on its own. That was Stan, and he was closer to Pip than the other boy in the room.
The other boy was watching Red Racer, a popular TV show, on the TV in Pip's room. He also wore a hat, a blue chullo hat with a yellow bobble.
He also wore a blue turtleneck that matched the hat and mud-stained jeans. 
His name was Craig. 
Pip, Craig, and Stan had met the week before when their parents had sent them to therapy for various reasons.
Pip had been lit on fire and needed muscle and emotional therapy after his arm being amputated.
Craig had witnessed the murder of his cousin.
Stan had depression and body image issues.
They had all had the same therapist and had met in the waiting room.
Pip stared down at the stump where his arm had once been. It had been burnt beyond repair, and the nerve endings and muscles were completely burned away.
There was a specific day when he was supposed to get a prosthetic, but that was a year away. 
Stan sat up from his spot laying next to Pip and gave him a concerned look. 
"You OK Pip?" He asked. Pip cast his eyes to Stan.
"Yeah, i'm fine." He lied.