A white void glowed bright all around, and through closed eyes he saw the veins of his eyelids illuminated by the light just beyond them. He saw the red hue of blood flowing through them, ever so gently causing the thin strands of life to pulsate with refined delicacy. He saw each cell of the fluid for what they were as they greeted his consciousness, each tiny atom that made him into a living creature. Or, something close enough to it. The left one opened first, peaking into the brilliance with a curiosity that he was still thankful to have. What he saw took him by shock, and the right one followed soon after, widening as dull pupils adjusted accordingly. Radiance overthrew his view as he stared into nothing but a peaceful whiteness; a serenity in it that he had never felt before. It filled him up, cradling his body and molding to his form. He felt the void move, and him move with it. It carried him without touching him, but never ceased in making him feel like a child being reunited with an old friend. As if this invisible chariot were taking him where he needed to go, finally. His muscles relaxed and his posture titled back until he was almost laying down. The rush of calm felt unfamiliar, but still he made no large effort against it. It felt right. To let go. It just felt right. A peace he hadn’t been able to have for so long, unable to find it himself wherever he looked.

 His eyes fell back, lids shutting over them as the tranquility lulled him into a sleep. He yawned before everything went black. 

 ”So, I’ll ask you again, what happened to you?” 
 ”After what happened between us, I was broken. I am broken. I lost everything.”
 ”You may have convinced everyone around you, might even have convinced yourself, but I know better.” 

 I know that voice. It was faint, and grew the more he willed his mind to listen in. 

“We were too different and any relationship between us would end badly no matter what, but don’t you ever think that I didn’t know who you were. Question is, do you anymore?”

 I thought I did. I thought I knew, but I was wrong. I was so wrong. 

 ”You’re not the monster you think you are.”

 You should have been afraid of me, and you weren’t. You never were, and that was what I loved you for. You saw all of my evil, stared it right in the face, and still you held me up. You never abandoned me even when I deserved as much, even when I abandoned you. I was wrong, Wisteria. I am so sorry. I was wrong about everything. You knew me more than anyone ever did. I should have never turned away. I-I’m sorry.

 “You don’t think I’ve learned anything from you? You think I’m still that selfish boy you met months ago? You think I haven’t thought about you!? Missed you!? Wished that everything that happened to fuck this up never existed!? Is that what you think, old man!? I can’t get rid of you! You’re always fucking right there, testing me on every fucking decision I make in my life whether your with me or not! Don’t you get that?!”

 Oh, Emery… I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry we ended up like this, and that I was too weak and far too stubborn to help you. I should have done better. I should have been better for you, when you needed it most. You were my son, and I should have held you close in our final days instead of leaving you behind. I am so proud of you, I always have been. You have always been Mother Moon’s favorite child. Please, Emery. Please, forgive a foolish old man who didn’t know any better. Please find a way to forgive your father after all of this.

 The mountains of people who he was leaving behind slowly crept through his head, playing as if he were right there during those last moments he had ever seen them, and even some of his most memorable experiences with them. Having them all removed from him bore holes in his heart that would never mend, but he know he would see them again. One day. If not sooner, then later. And that, well… That was alright with him. Colette, Calvin, Asa, Wisteria, Emery… His memory would always be with them, and theirs with him. It would live on in their hearts when they need moments of bravery, and find themselves reminiscing about their pasts. He would never forget the few that made his world a better place despite the faults, and he was certain they would never forget him all the same.

 Eyes fluttered open as the moving came to a stop. A staircase presented itself before him. Was this Heaven? A soft, familiar boyish smile painted along his features. Whatever it was, it felt good. If Vampires could truly die again and wind up somewhere, he would have wanted to wind up here. Slender fingers reached for the misty banister as one foot began his ascension. 

 ”Michael, my boy!” A hearty voice boomed from behind him, stopping him in his tracks. A voice that had haunted him in the worst ways for years. His head turned timidly. ”F… Father?” 

 The large man’s grin was contagious as his arms were held out wide to his child. Michael’s smile turned upwards until it stretched across from ear to ear, as he felt himself start running to his Maker. Babanel laughed as they embraced, holding each other as the large man caught his prodigy. He collapsed against him, head nuzzling against his Maker’s chest. All the problems between them, the bitterness especially, washed away in that moment. It was lost with the void. “Welcome home, son. I have been waiting such a long time for you to find your way back to me. Come now! Emery has been blabbing my ear off for awhile now, and it’s your turn to shut his yap up, ye’?” Babanel wrapped his arm over Michael’s shoulder and led him up the staircase. The two ascending up to where they belonged, in a place free from the troubles of Earth. Together again, forever now.

 In the end, all would be well. Maybe not for some, but for enough.
 Long live Athoria.

asa-ibsen:

The Draugr Queen tore into the flesh of her prey, long since losing track of the number of bodies she had left along the way. She drank from the tremoring body, lifting it by it’s neck, it’s legs dangling off the ground as she drained it. Feeble hands pushed uselessly against her, but still she fed, feverishly lapping at the ruby liquid. A warmth filled her body as the body grew still. And she tossed the empty husk to the ground, stepping into the smoke filled night.

Asa stepped from the last house of the row, blood dripping down her chin. And with burning eyes she walked toward Michael, pulling him to her in the light of the inferno and bringing her lips to his. A growl of satisfaction emanated in her throat as she hungrily explored his mouth, the blood from her own mouth mingling with his as her hand possessively pushed against the small of his back, pressing his body to hers. She smiled against the kiss, playfully licking Michael’s lips, her free hand winding itself in his messy locks. “Mine,” she thought her feverish lips moving against his, the crackle of burning wood and the smell of burning flesh filling the air. Asa was breathless as he responded, her hunger momentarily forgotten as she lost herself in lust. And for a moment she lost control, biting into the soft skin of his lip with a moan, fresh blood passing her lips. More. Her shaking hands curled into talons as she tasted the new blood, her fangs again fully extended.

The ancient fought her urge, ripping her mouth away with reluctance and beaming at Michael, her exposed fangs tinted red. She released him, her hand lingering fondly against his cheek, her breath still ragged as she gazed into his dark eyes. But the hunger had already reawakened in her. Asa turned her nose to the air, the scent of live human almost concealed by the thick smoke beginning to fill the village. “I think we missed one,” she murmured, her eyes shining with excitement.

 Michael pushed into her frame. The build of the Ancient like a monolith as she remained unmoved in his furious efforts of lust, hands roaming against her hips. He snarled as she bit into him, the long delicate fingers of both his hands now forming balls as they gripped the garment she wore and pulled her to him. Their bodies were one in that instance, as blood began to gush from his lip and dribble down his chin. Hers, he was, and hers alone he wanted to be. In the heat of their lust, burning like the building around them, her body scorched his own. Vibrant with possession and power, her intensity rose as her incisors extended against his bloodied mouth. He could feel her react and attempt to pull away, but Michael’s grip pulled her in place. Before long, though, the elder of the two broke free from the trance of his sweetened blood. The Mistress raised her hand and caressed along his cheek. Michael tilted his head into her palm, and for a brief moment amongst the chaos he found a small home of bliss rise between them.

 Although his body was swollen with desire by just the carnal look in her eyes, he could feel her demand for control over herself. And so, his gaze turned from hers. But then, her nose turned upright to the air filled with smoke. 

 “I think we missed one,” she murmured.

 He stepped forward, sniffing into the blackening smoke billowing around them now. Somewhere beneath the thickness lied the faint smell of living mortal. Michael growled, almost enraged that any creature could have fooled them with its hiding. “We’ll share this one.” 

 He began forward, lurching as though Hell itself would explode from beneath his seething skin. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang into the blackness, voice booming above the crackling of flames as the houses burned to smoldering ember at his feet. 

 ”Give it up, Wight. You’re ours.” 

stephen-gatiss-freeman:

Approximately 10 years ago

Noah had always been a brilliant and impossibly curious child, the apple of his father’s eye and the heart of his mother’s love. As the youngest of three Freeman boys, Noah had been the focus of attention in the home. A factor that would cause most children to become spoiled brats but Noah, although knowing exactly what he could and could not get away with, had remained a remarkably humble child. He had Stephen’s logic, Thomas’ sense of adventure, and a spritely attitude unlike anything the family had ever seen. Every morning, Richard would take him in his arms and hold him high over his head as the boy kicked and cried out in excitement then send him off to torment his brothers with pranks and unrelenting mischief. Then during the night, Noah and Thomas would crawl into bed with their older brother begging for tales of his many adventures until his mother would drag him away to sing him songs passed down from generation to generation until his lively eyes would close and drift off to sleep.

These were the happiest times in a father’s life. Memories of the men and boys coming together to sit around the fire place, telling tales of horrible beasts and the heroes that had slayed them. The look of wonder that would dance through the eyes of the young ones as Richard and Stephen told of their hunts and travels. Times when Noah would crawl into his fathers lap to watch as Stephen taught Thomas to wield a sword. This was all that was left of his little boy, fading memories and the constant reminder of what would never be.

He remembered that day as if it had happened only moments prior. Martha had ran to him with tears in her eyes, crying out that Noah was nowhere to be found. She clung to Thomas, fearing what had been on all of their minds while he had taken Stephen along with several other hunters into the woods to search. Noah loved his games, he would hide for hours until found then laugh at how much distress his little prank had caused. But there there was something different this time. They could all feel it. Something was wrong. Richard searched the forest surrounding the Freeman residence, clinging to the hope that the child was simply trying his patience and nothing more when he found his eldest son standing in a clearing with a blank look, face drained of colour.

Their eyes met and he instantly knew. Pushing his way past the brush he found his greatest fear to have become reality. There at Stephen’s feet lay the lifeless body of his little boy, arms sprawled out unnaturally at his side and blood coating his face and hair. Stephen spoke; his words a mere whisper lost in the grief that swelled in his chest as Richard fell to his knees in defeat, scooping the lifeless body of his boy in his arms and cradling him as he had when he’d been a babe.

He could not not remember walking back through the forest, carrying what had been left of his son back to his mother. He did not remember Stephen sending the party of men back to their homes and taking Thomas away to his room in order to shield him from seeing his dead brother. The man entered the home with his boy and found Martha standing at the end of the hall, waiting in worry. As she saw him there was a split second of visible relief. Noah had been found, he was back in his fathers arms and safe at home where he belonged. But the look in Richard’s eyes had told her the truth, she looked down to see the child’s head hanging limp over his father’s strong arm with dried blood caked to his blue tinted skin.

For a woman who had been so strong, she shattered like fragile glass at the sight. Running to her child, shaking him and screaming his name, trying to wake him from his permanent sleep. Richard had to sit the boy down on the long chair and pull his hysteric wife away, yelling for her to stop; that Noah was gone and would not wake up. It had broken her, it broke all of them. Nothing had been the same after that. He watched as his family fell apart. Stephen became even more withdrawn, Thomas could not fully understand what had happened to his little brother, and Martha simply drifted away. 

She spent every moment in Noah’s old bedroom. Smelling his clothes and making his bed again and again. She shied away from her children, leaving Thomas to the nanny as she mourned the loss of her baby boy. It was not long until the grief had claimed her from him as well. Leaving him to find solace in drink until the bottle had been his only anchor to this world. He swore vengeance. Swore to God and anyone who would listen that he would avenge his family. That he would destroy those that had stripped him of all that he loved.

Richard held the papers in his hands, flipping through one by one. Reading and re-reading each and every line until their meaning finally sank in. They had found him. The murderous bastard who had killed his little boy. A vile despicable creature who had committed several similar murders in Night Haven. After two years of tracking this monster he had finally found it within his reach. The man abandoned his bottle and quickly grabbed his coat and blade, readying to leave when he found Thomas standing in the hall watching him with attentive eyes. He approached the boy and sat his palm on his head, looking down with a solemn gaze as spoke to him in a gentle voice before leaving to seek out his demon. 

He walked through the darkness with purpose, still feeling the fading effects of the alcohol as he traveled down the long road to where this monster had been spotted. As he traveled the path he became aware that something felt wrong, it was strange that after all of this time a mysterious file would find its place at his doorstep by the hand of an anonymous sender. Be it the clinging effect of the drink or his need for revenge, the man did not care. He needed this to end. No longer could he go on like this, it was time.

Eventually Richard found himself traveling through the side streets of Night Haven, not really sure what he was looking for. He kept on his guard, keeping an eye out for the slightest bit of movement as he walked. Instinct told him that someone was near, watching him, waiting for him but his experienced eyes saw nothing. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and looked back and forth, sensing where the nonexistent sounds were coming from. But again, there was no one to be seen. With a huff the man stormed out into the center of the street, pulling out his blade and lifting his fist into the night.

“Come to me demon! Depart from your haven in the shadows you coward! Come face me in the light of your mother!”

 If he had been apart of the living, then the wind at his front would have stung against his stone like face. With this stoic expression, the monster crept through the thick black darkness as he had time and time again. Wandering along familiar paths he had unknowingly built from years of worn, the paths no mortal dared to take through Hallowed Oaks. Heavy boots hovered across the ground, creating no sounds at all — surprising for their weight. The creature was one with the night; intimately involved with it to the point where its ins and outs were memorized by now. Centuries of belonging to it can do that to a man, even a mortal one. But, it can also drive you mad. Mad with a lust that even mortals will feel over time. Mad with this insatiable desire that can only be tamed once satisfied. In the night, there is no right or wrong. There are no morals there to withhold your darkest fantasies from becoming a sick, delightfully morbid reality. Here in the darkness, blood is what you crave. Blood, and sweat. The most intoxicating mixture of scents that a body can make. It was a craving that sunk under even the toughest of skins over time. A craving that turned these innocent people into the monsters that stalked them. 

 And oh, did he long for it. The blood, the sweat — they were this monster’s strongest desire. He loved the chaos, he loved the anguish and the terror. He adored the power that came with being the cause that dimmed the light from their eyes. And when it came to spilling that sweat and that blood for revenge, well… Well that was something entirely special.

 Like a giant, his height just barely reached the canopy of tangled vines and tree branches above him. As his dull green eyes looked out towards Night Haven’s lonely streets he could feel his chest rise and fall. Old habits died hard. The monster stalked forward, sinister in his quiet steps. Like a lion cleverly stalking what would soon be his prey, although he was sure he was going to enjoy this more than just any meal. This was far more than that. Far more than a quick jerk of the neck and a sink of his teeth in their tender bits of flesh. Revenge. 

 He adjusted his stance, allowing more of the lonesome road to come into view. And there, alone in the middle of the road only a ten or so yards away, was his soon to be victim. The mortal was practically serving themselves up on a platter.

 As his eyes narrowed in on the being the soft smell of alcohol vaguely wafted through the air. What a fool, he thought. 

 ”Come to me demon! Depart from your haven in the shadows you coward! Come face me in the light of your mother!”

 The creature smirked at the call. And of course he obliged, walking with quiet steps out into the open behind the careless male. Mother above bloomed in her radiant light, illuminating the street and casting stretched out shadows to their backs. Such a beautiful stage for such a vile being to die upon.

 ”I’ve never met a man so eager to die. Although, with such determination I’m going to assume you found our little present to your family? I should not be this surprised you want to follow your wee boy, Richard. You’re more pathetic than your father, and that is saying something.” Michael chuckled under his breath, hardly being able to contain the fury of laughter that ached to bubble up.

wisteria-scoher:

Her eyes left his, but it was already too late. The wicked smile curved upon his lips was imprinted in her mind now, damaging her idea of him forever. She didn’t want to know this smile, nor this man. This man, this vampire, was an awful shadow that tainted her image of him. How could she cling to her calm state when he seemed so set on undoing every bit of good in himself? How dare he? His words were cruel, his tongue spitting poison. She didn’t want to hear what he’d done, regretted her question entirely. She wanted to run away and forget this monster while remembering the man. 

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to stay away and leave her to pick up the pieces of her mind and heart. He wasn’t supposed to change this way. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d killed her, now he’d went and had killed himself. Wisteria loved her murderer deep inside, but would always hate his. Balling her fist, her emotions started to take hold of her. She forced them back. 

“You want me to weave a fine image for you of the tender meat I ripped off their damaged carcasses, and tossed aside for the birds? Is that really what you want to talk about after all this time? Rumors?”

“No, I don’t want to , but that’s not the point. The point is that it was you. You, who used to loathe careless vampires like that. Who would’ve never murdered an entire village just because you felt like it and would’ve never then left the corpses to rot. I know you, and I know that isn’t you.” Her words showed the smallest amount of anger. Suppressing the small spark in her chest, she sighed. “You’ve  always been better than that. And you’ve always been too stubborn to see that.”

“So, I’ll ask you again, what happened to you?” Wisteria took her time to look over him. “And what have you done to yourself? You can go and growl at me some more, or you can tell me more tales of bloodshed. But I need an answer. If you ever have ever held any affection in your heart for me, you’ll tell me. I’ll leave you be then, and you can go and continue your current…Folly.” She meant it. She needed to leave before her broke her some more, if that were even possible. 

 Michael’s forked tongue and shadowing smirk fell dim on his face, almost as if he questioned himself. His gaze grew heavy as he tried to look at her with anything but hatred; not for her, but for himself. The ghost of the girl he had murdered months ago was now preaching how he was better than this, but was he really? If it were so, then why had his life led to this path of self righteousness? Why did he have this life at all? If he was better before, then why had it not worked out between them — or him and anyone at all? 

 Sullen expressions took over, and he adjusted the cloak around his frame. It was beginning to look less like ominous bat wings, and more of the cloth that is truly was the more pained his expression went. ”I’m not better than this.” The words slipped from his mouth as though he were admitting his defeat in the midst of a battle. “That’s the problem. I never was better than this. You were just delusional then; biting off of blind emotions when it came to me.” The sorrow welled in his eyes, but a stubborn pride pushed them back as he looked to her. 

 ”When the Moon was gone for those few days, I abandoned everything…everyone. I left Emery, Thirst, and I headed towards the shores. After what happened between us, I was broken. I am broken.” The Elder took a step towards her, daringly so as the gap began to close right until he was only two or three feet away. “You do not know me. You never did, never could. Is that not why we’re apart? Our differences?” Her scent overwhelmed his nostrils, causing him to flinch at the disdain it brought now. “What you thought you knew about me was centuries of oppression, keeping myself at bay for those who I could never satisfy no matter the might that went behind my trying. What you knew was a failure, and a suffering little man. I’ve evolved from that… Or, at least I’m trying to. I’m trying to be better. That’s what’s happened to me.”

 His presence towered over her; the scent of her soft skin causing his mouth to pool with saliva once more. But, of course, he gulped it back and tried to tame his animalistic hunger. Not her, he told himself.

 ”I lost everything, and I’m working my way back to the path I should be on.”

wisteria-scoher:

Wisteria wrapped her arms around her body, partly because of the cold and partly because she felt like falling apart. As if her body was made of glass, with several cracks, big and small, all over her legs, torso and face. With every movement Mi-he made, with every word he spoke, new cracks seemed to form. They would continue forming, until the glass shattered and she’d fall to pieces. And she’d be left to gather them, alone as usual. As she had many times before. It was almost routine by now, so she didn’t really mind that much anymore. Nothing would be visible on the outside. Not a single tear. All of it happened on a subconscious level. She’d adapted an almost pleasant, dream like state of numbness which allowed her to live from day to day and forget everything that ever had gone wrong in her life. Not just the vampire standing there, but everything she regretted and mourned. And that list had grown quite long. Mom. Dad. Arianne. Alys. Rosalie. Casper. Him.

If she fell into something akin to sadness, she corrected herself immediately. Ever since Rosalie had been killed, she had had plenty of time to brush up her old technique of forget and move on. Had perfected it, so to speak. And she couldn’t risk letting the elder opposite break her carefully built wall. He was one of the few, if not the only, who could. That made him her most dangerous foe. Her love for him her greatest enemy. It had nearly destroyed her, and she was set on surviving. She was a survivor. Like the vine whose name she carried. No matter what, she’d liveand grow.

”What happened to you?”

Wisteria forced herself to look into his eyes. Don’t flinch. “Plenty.” The word was spoken quietly, almost ashamed. “You’ve changed.” She noted. She couldn’t even begin to name what had changed. Almost everything. He was a figure that could inspire fear into anyone without even trying now. Threatening, hostile and empty. It didn’t nearly hurt as much as she’d expected to look at him because it wasn’t him. Just another stranger she had to fool. If she mourned him now, she’d be mourning a memory. She didn’t know whether that was good or not, would decide on that later on.

“There are rumours about plenty of blood spilling. An entire village flooding with blood. With two people being the cause…It was you, wasn’t it?” That sentence carried the first sadness she’d shown in a long time, and she cursed herself for letting her feel that emotion for a split second. 

 He had changed.

 Michael took a step back, as if her words were battling his footing so he stayed a clear distance from her. Although, even as his feet wandered further away, he could still feel this empty pull inside of him — like a knot laced around him, leading to her — that wanted to draw his body closer. Denying that pull seemed practical, though he could feel his skin already rejecting the decision completely. Michael never was a man of practicality, especially now. What Vampire truly was? 

 He could feel her eyes, loss of all their old vibrancy, boring holes into him. They drilled through his newly found exterior and began to chip at the surface of who he really was. Who he was denying himself of being for a “better cause” and “a better life”. A better way of living, as he had it put to him so plainly in the beginning. Those eyes he used to gaze into. The eyes he would dream of staring back up into his. They were no longer a window into her mortality, just spaces that seemed withered with pain. He could barely muster the same courage she had, to meet those eyes. But, somehow, he found it. If he was going to maintain this pompous outer layer, he had to.

 If she thought he couldn’t smell that sadness, that agony from just being near him — she was wrong. The young Human before him had bested his nose only once now, hiding the draft of sadness under the layers of repulsion, of confusion. But, somewhere within her words, he had found it and it only helped chip away at his shell.

 “There are rumours about plenty of blood spilling. An entire village flooding with blood. With two people being the cause…It was you, wasn’t it?”

Michael couldn’t help but smirk. The twist of his mouth was evidently more sinister than he intended, but imagery of that haunting night with Asa put a blush on his face he couldn’t control. His stomach faintly groaned at the recent memories of the river of blood that flowed through that quiet village. It reminded him of the godly hunger he had been forced to satisfy lately. 

 ”Is that what you want to hear? How I murdered those people in their beds? How their blood painted my skin? How the women fell to their knees begging for my mercy? Is this the story you really want, Wisteria?” He barked at her, growling at how she could possibly have this to talk about and nothing more. “You want me to weave a fine image for you of the tender meat I ripped off their damaged carcasses, and tossed aside for the birds? Is that really what you want to talk about after all this time? Rumors?”

asa-ibsen:

Asa cupped his face with her pale fingers, laying a kiss on his parted mouth. “We feed,” she murmured against his lips. A low chuckle emanated low in her throat as she pulled away from him, her eyes burning with hunger and lust in the light of torch. “They might as well have gift wrapped themselves for us. Foolish humans, always so willing to believe they’re safe in their beds. They make it so…easy. And that is why they are the prey and we, my dear boy, are the predators.”

She brought a single finger to her lips, jerking her head towards the first building on the block. Asa let her fingers trail against the side of the building as she slunk towards the door, a single forgotten candle burning low in the window of the home like a beacon. The smell from within set her body aflame, her precious meal gift-wrapped in layers of timber and brick. And with one last leering glance at Michael she slammed her shoulder against the door, the wood splintering beneath her dense frame. 

As the door fell beneath her might, she stormed through the wreckage into the one room home, the two humans sitting up wide eyed in their humble, hay lined beds. With a feral hiss she set upon the terrified woman, a blur of speed as she sunk her teeth into it’s neck, a sickening gurgle coming from it’s lips as she ripped it’s throat open with her fangs. Asa threw back her head, a growl ripping through her blood covered lips, sinews hanging from her red stained teeth.

 Michael followed her, of course. Trailing close behind her like a puppy dog awaiting the leftover scraps their superior would abandon for them. As his Queen made for the woman, the Elder pressed forward — torch in hand — and flung it at the male. It caught the hay lining of their bed on fire. Michael reached through the growing flames, grabbing him by the neck and dragging him out of the wreckage. A guttural sound escaped the feeble man’s lips as the Vampire’s hand began to crush his throat. In one swift movement he hoisted the mortal upwards and ripped into its neck with his fangs. They sunk into its flesh with utmost ease, allowing a flow of blood to spurt into his mouth and begin to pool. Quickly he drank up, and neared the mortal to the brink of death before dropping the body to the floor. 

 ”More!” His blood stained mouth exploded with the word. He roared like an animal before turning to the door and rushing out of it to carry on towards their next victims. One by one, he zigzagged through the small village, murdering off all he could to sustain his wild hunger. He allowed the torch he held to burn houses to the ground; finding joy in the death, and the screams that came just before it. 

 Michael’s body flexed with renewed life, but it didn’t prevent his killing. Slaughtering the mortals, their blood staining his attire, his skin — he breathed demise into them. Dropping their bodies wherever he wished, flinging them like tattered dolls children embraced with up onto the burning buildings. His mind whirled with death, an ally to their playtime. The body count growing as he went, unconcerned for his mighty Queen who surely reveled in this twisted chaos. 

 He could feel her ecstasy like lightning through his body. He could taste the blood she tasted, and smell the fear she smelled off the slowly rotting, burning mortals. 

 These fragile beings were ants to their magnifying power. 

wisteria-scoher:

Wisteria was already at the end of the field when the silence that had seemed to have lasted for centuries was broken viciously by a series of terrified screams. They betrayed the fear, the absolute desperation of the woman and it made her heart skip several beats. She recognized the screams for what they were, the cries of a victim. She’d screamed that way too, when a vicious phantom had held her in his grasp. Whatever had gotten the woman, it was doing a good job of frightening her to no avail. Once upon a time, Wisteria would’ve ran towards the sound without any thought or hesitance. But she’d grown more careful and as she stood there shivering in the cold, she felt cowardly. 

But then the screams became louder, and with it her breath seemed to stop. What if the woman was hurt now? What if, while she had been worrying, she would die? All because she wouldn’t help? Wisteria just couldn’t let that happen, refused to walk away like nothing had happened. The Witch moved into a sprint, the skirt of her dress flailing wildly as she ran as fast as her legs could take her. She’d never been a particularly good runner, but the urgency of the screams beckoned her to move faster, energy that could’ve been natural or magical fueling her limbs to move.

The Witch stopped all of a sudden, so quickly that she almost stumbled over her own feet. A young woman ran towards her, her hand on her neck, trying to stop the bleeding. When she noticed Wisteria, she frantically ran towards her and grabbed her hands. “Don’t go there! It’s terrible, gruesome! It’s the devil!” Winny wanted to reply, but the woman had already sprinted away.

Whatever it was, it hadn’t killed her. Frowning, she prepared herself for the worst as she took quick steps to the edge of the field. It was so dark that it took her some while to recognize the tall figure. The so called “devil”.

Wisteria would’ve probably sank to her knees right there and then if she wasn’t in such a high state of adrenaline. It couldn’t be…It was impossible. A horrible trick of fate. It was a message, sent to her by God himself. That He’d never be on her side, would always punish her for whatever sins she’d committed. She didn’t speak his name, her thoughts having trouble connecting the figure before her with the man who’d left a mere month ago. He seemed different. Older and more dangerous. A complete stranger. 

Her eyes landed on the blood trickling down his lips. She’d kissed those lips once, she realised, and it was enough to make her stomach perform an unpleasant flip. “Who are you?” She wanted to ask. The elder before her wasn’t someone she knew and his eyes were exactly like the gossip had told her. Void of any life or compassion. Winny still refused to think of him as evil. Perhaps she ought to cry, surely that was what she was supposed to do? Weep over this change? But her eyes remained dry and her heart remained silent. Instead, hesitant brown eyes inspected him until she finally found the question she wanted to ask.

“What happened to you?” It was meant as a question, yet delivered as an insult.

 Looming, his covered frame blended in with the surrounding darkness, causing him to appear almost as a shadow would. A shadow of an evil man, a shadow of a willfully broken immortal creature. If not for the pale of his skin, he’d have been nothing more than a part of the void. Though, was he not already? A small breeze came through and tousled the edged of his slightly curled mane as he pulled the cloak — now sitting awkwardly off his shoulders — around him, adjusting it as his ears perked up to the noise of slow footsteps. His eyes averted the trees lining the field, keeping his cold gaze down. The blood, now slowly dripping from his chin, went unnoticed — or rather, ignored — as the rustling of limbs just ahead of him grew closer, closer… His mind raced for a moment. A heat of panic whirled in his head. What do I do? What do I do? He wanted to flee, to shield himself from the pain that was about to come. If it was her, then…well… Was there really any doubt? He cursed the world under bated breath.

 And then, the footsteps stopped. He winced at the silence that followed, practically feeling her immediate repulsion. He utterly repelled her, and the smell of her disgust wafted through his nostrils completely. He cringed for a moment — waiting, holding his breath for her to make the first move. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, let alone say something. 

 “What happened to you?”

 After a few seconds of the agonizing quiet between them, she spoke, and her words stung probably more than they should have. What happened to him? Maybe if she cared to begin with, she’d know what happened to him. His dull eyes, lifeless as ever, raised just a bit to meet with hers. She didn’t look the same. When his eyes crept over her, he no longer saw the beauty of what rested inside. All he saw now was a hallowed out shell where that beauty used to be. Before he killed it.

 Michael licked his lips, tasting the blood greedily before wiping it away the sleeve of his tunic. He took a step forward though stopped immediately after. Closing the gap between them scared him. He didn’t want to get too close. Too close, and he’d probably fall dead. Too close, and he wouldn’t be able to keep up this act anymore. Not for her sake, or his.

 ”Just…out for a meal.” His voice faltered over, almost cracking. Clearing his throat, he tried to find something to say. Something at all that would resemble some kind of regard to her humanity, to his humanity. But, instead, he scoffed. More at himself for considering “humanity” now, than at her tone. 

 ”What happened to you?” Michael shot back, starting to pace.

wisteria-scoher:

The trees were very tall and very threatening, Wisteria noted as the leaves underneath her shoes made small crunching sounds. She’d tried to avoid the forest as much as she could, especially when the sun had already gone down, but the so called “shorter route” she’d decided to take, had led her to a desolate meadow with a thick tree line on both sides. It was quiet, not even the sound of animals reaching her ears. The whole area felt dead, like something had sucked the life out of the nature. Hallowed Oaks was nothing compared to this. At least there one could find signs of life, even if they weren’t always very friendly. She regretted having tied her hair back in a bun, as the cold air made goosebumps raise on her neck. Bringing up a gloved hand, she brushed a lose curl out of her face, her eyes falling on something.

Even thought the moon didn’t give much light tonight, Wisteria could clearly make out the red colour of one lone flower in the grass. A poppy. Her grandmother had told her a story about poppies once. How they had been pure before, as white as bride on her wedding day, but that the bloodshed of a long war caused by a greedy warlord had turned the flower crimson red. Even now, she never looked at poppies quite the same way. It was a miracle that the flower had survived for so long, seen as how it was winter. The reminder of tainted innocence.

Her thoughts on blood, she kept on walking, leaving the flower behind her.

Another cause for her nervousness were the rumours that had been brought to her attention. Terrible, dreadful rumours Wisteria didn’t dare to think about for too long. Voices had told her of a great massacre, of many innocents lives taken. Voices told her of one of the predators, a man, tall and threatening with dull eyes that represented the blackness of his soul. A woman with fiery eyes by his side. Or so they said, Wisteria didn’t doubt that the rumours would thicken in the next couple of days, and that already much fantasy had been added to the story. She dared bet that by the end of the week, the tales would tell about the devil himself having killed those villagers.

But the rumour didn’t settle well with her. Whenever her thoughts lingered on the subject, she asked herself the same question. What if? What if it was the very same man she’d known for what already seemed like a lifetime ago? Her once lover, friend,…Her murderer. When she thought about those things, she never once spoke the name. She didn’t do that anymore these days. She’d chosen to lie to herself instead, to lock whatever had once been away. It was her only choice. She’d go mad otherwise.

But right now, Wisteria’s thoughts didn’t linger on the rumours. Right now, Winny thought of blood and wars and poppies.

 Ragged, sporadic breathing. The only sounds seeping passed the gusts of wind were those of a whimpering woman, and the fright-filled neighing of a strong horse. His footsteps landed heavy, though they were agile enough to maintain a steady keep-up with the horse, creating a singular thudding noise that sounded muddled through his focus. Tunnel vision gave his eyes a clear view of his soon to be prey, as he played the ever favorite cat-and-mouse with it. 

 It. That’s what they were now.

 The horse’s speed was abnormal for the breed, which impressed him quite a bit. He didn’t have to exactly pretend to be slower, not by much at least. The mighty steed jumped over a fallen branch, and soon behind him was Michael’s wild expression following right on its trail. 

 The woman riding it leaned forward, frantic as she begged the horse to go faster — as fast as it could. Her fear, her trembling skin covered in goosed flesh, made Michael’s mouth pool with saliva. He could hear her heartbeat. He could hear her terrified thoughts as she imagined this to be her last few moments left alive. He could feel her hope that he would slow to a halt and allow them to flee from his fury — which only made him drool more. 

 As the horse zigzagged through the trees, he watched as it disappeared behind a line of thick brush which did nothing to prevent Michael from following. He pounced from the foliage, taking off into the air and found himself near the outskirts of a field. The woman kicked at the horse to keep the creature going, and a shaky neigh erupted from its mouth. But, of course, to no avail. The Vampire raced across the grass and jumped at the woman, knocking her off her perch and forcing her to the ground. She cowered in fear and thrashed in his grip. Using his strength he held her down and quickly jerked her head to the side before sinking his teeth through the tender, soft flesh of her neck. Like a knife through warm butter. Her blood pooled in his mouth, mixing with his saliva as her horrified screams bounced off the surrounding tree bark and echoed much farther. Earth shattering it was, truly. It forced a smirk against his lips. Their screaming was the best part. 

 But, then came that scent… A smell he had forced to the deepest parts of his mind. One that he had removed from his memories, or so he thought. The smell of a broken girl he had murdered off not so long ago. 

 The scent made him stop in his tracks, dropping the still alive woman to the ground. His eyes widened as his nostrils took it in. His spoiled meal stared up at him with absolute fear stricken through her gaze, cowering as she watched him relay what it was he was exactly smelling. And then, came a snapping of twigs. 

 ”Go,” he whispered to the woman. “Leave.” Michael, with blood soaked lips, turned to find the source of the scent. As his prey stumbled to now get away, he surveyed through the darkness and stood up from his crouched position. The full height of him seemed a lot more menacing now, as if he were made from the darkness itself. 

 ”Wi…” He fought himself with her name. A name he hadn’t uttered in what felt like eons. 

asa-ibsen:

The wind blew in gusts, the slight rustle of the untamed grass the only sound for miles. Their silhouettes were outlined in the moonlight as they stared hungrily down at the unassuming town, craving the blood coursing through the veins of their intended victims sleeping in their beds. A slow smile turned up the corners of Asa’s lips as she turned her face to Michael, tendrils of her hair escaping from the the simple braid down her back, the fur lining of her dress framing her pale cheeks. The ancient looked godly as she stood on the hill, surveying the village in front of her, her pale skin shining in the light of the moon, a halo of light seeming to encircle her body. 

Asa reached out an ashen hand, gently caressing Michael’s cheek. “Soon, pet,” she murmured fondly, her fingers gently grazing his full, beautiful lips. “Come.” She gestured him forward, her black dress billowing out around her as she began to descend the hill towards the dim, lantern lit streets of the sleeping village. The ancient could feel her fangs pressing against the tender skin on in the inside of her lip, the hunger in her rising as the first whiff of human lingered under her nose. A hiss of appreciation left her parted lips, her eyes narrowing menacingly. The muscles in Asa’s jaw flexed as she imagined the first bite, sinking her teeth effortlessly into the soft human flesh, tearing the veins open with her sharp, unforgiving fangs. Soon.

 Michael’s body moved fluidly against the harsh winds. Winds that preferably favored them in keeping their scent, and their noise muffled under it’s power. It shifted against his frame, causing his untamed hair to fly at its will. Strands of his mane fell against his face, shadowing the maniacal look that came with the urgent hunger building within him. 

 Like a wild animal, he lurched forward behind his Queen, following her footsteps up the hill that overlooked the sleeping village. As they approached the top the smell of mortal blood, in droves, flooded his nostrils. Violent colors flickered in his eyes as the intoxicating aroma sent chills through him. His gaze wandered from the view and fell to his Queen, as if he were silently pleading to her to hurry.

 ”Soon, pet,” came the voice of his Mistress. Her soft fingertips trailed over his eager lips, and his eyes filled with the passion that could only be mirrored in her own. The vibrations of power, of pure energy, hummed between the two — creating a wild spark of electricity doomed to be released in the most savage of ways. 

 ”Come.” 

 Obediently, he followed her again. The blackened eyes glittered with flecks of red and orange narrowed as the two figures descended down the hill. The tips of his incisors pressed against the bottoms of his upper lip, making it all too apparent of his thirst, his overwhelming hunger. These urges came on so greatly. Ever since Asa, he had been able to feed for hours, whole days if he could — and that painful hunger within him was never pleased. His Queen had told him that it is his carnal desire to feed and feed, and that that bloodlust was the effect from years of suppressing his true nature. Perhaps she was right, he had figured. It was yet another thing to further his alliance to her. Another piece of evidence that proved her words true. Why else would he be experiencing this? 

 His Queen stepped ahead of him, though he made sure to keep as close as possible to her. The two walked slowly through the quiet village’s opening. If not for that erotic scent filling his head now, he’d have sworn the place deader than himself. Michael took long, confident strides towards one of the buildings and ripped off a lit torch from it’s bricked enclosure. He then turned to Lady Asa and gave a smug little smirk before wandering back to her side. 

 ”Well, my Queen?”

gagebellamy:

“Out,” Gage got the chance to repeat that much before Michael’s next mini-tirade, and the younger vampire went so far as to give a disbelieving snort. “You certainly don’t pay me to run the place, which is pretty much what Iris and I have been doing,” he snapped, whatever small scrap of patience he ever possessed wearing thin.

Under normal circumstances (and apparently these weren’t normal circumstances) the two of them had a fairly easy coexistence; Michael was usually verging on annoyingly fatherly and Gage, as was quite typical of him, would act genuinely offended and vaguely threatened because the male pride definitely doesn’t die when the body does (and in Gage’s case appeared to have tripled in size and intensity). 

Many a mug had been broken against the wall because Gage had a (very childish) habit of pitching them at Michael’s head when he pissed him off (or gave him an order), despite the fact that he’d never once actually managed to hit him. It was therapeutic or something. 

There was a moment where Gage just stared at Michael silently after the elder vampire had finished speaking. Then, of course, there was an angry (and not just a little frustrated) growl, and there may or may not have been a subtle stamping of a foot, which was not at all childish and more an act defiance because he had absolutely no intention of going anywhere. Particularly now that Michael was trying to order him around. 

So maybe he was being incredibly childish. Gage simply had a thing about taking orders, and the gist of that was pretty much that it just didn’t happen. He gave the hand that Michael used to wave him off an incredibly offended look, almost like he was vaguely considering snapping at it but decided against it at the last second. 

“Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to keep being this weird neurotic lunatic and disappear again?” He let the question hang for a minute before continuing. “Just a warning, you might not have a pub to come back to next time. I was under the assumption that you knew that I don’t take kindly to being ordered about, but clearly not.”

 Michael’s head jerked quickly at Gage’s backtalk. To say that the boy’s defiant attitude annoyed him would be the understatement of the year. He returned the growl, though his outmatched the child’s considerably. After all, Michael was older, stronger — more of a threat to the kin’s livelihood than he could imagine. And, with his new found sense of self, he no longer needed to cater to the feelings of others. No, no. They needed to cater to his. 

 ”Unless you want to be sucking blood out of a tube in your stomach, I’d suggest you mind your tone with me.” His body turned toward Gage, and for a moment the tantrum he was throwing no longer made the Elder want to rip the kid’s spinal cord from his torso. Instead, it slightly amused him. Looking the male over, sizing him up, he could only imagine Asa’s amusement as well, had she been there. She had always preferred the deviant, wildly rambunctious kind over the mundane youth around here. Though before her, Michael might have considered Gage amongst those ordinary ranks. But now, with a bit more light shed on the truth, what would otherwise cause a nasty taste in his mouth now seemed a tad more pleasant. More understandable, if you will.

 ”I’ve been out near Olia Meadows, taking care of some business there. I’ve been working on my leverages here in Athoria, making connections.” He hoisted the sack over his shoulder. “I’d suggest you do the same if you plan to survive out here. Especially with that mouth of yours.” A bit smug, Michael began to head towards the door. His footing stopped short by Gage. “Now move.” His gaze stared down at the child’s, dominance purely radiating off of him. “I’ll pay you double to just keep things running for awhile more. I should return in time for that to have left your pockets far heavier than normal.” 

 It was clear something was amiss. Michael was never this cold, this angry. He was never so proudly aggressive, with either Iris nor Gage. For a split second, the pain he was smothering deep inside showed, and a slight frown found the surface of his face — just before he could drown it away again.

gagebellamy:

Somewhere between seriously considering punting the mug he was currently supposed to be cleaning at a wall and staring blankly across the room at said wall with his feet propped up on the bar Gage realized that he was truly and genuinely bored and really had absolutely no idea what to do with himself as a result. Iris was just about useless in terms of entertainment (her suggestion had been darts. Of all things to suggest, she picks darts. Gage gave another snort of disgust as his mind wandered along this train of thought. 

His eyes snapped to the door as it creaked open, and if he were a lesser being his jaw might have hit the floor when he recognized the figure who stepped through the door. As it was there was some raising of an eyebrow and a definite downward turn at one corner of his mouth, but he didn’t move from his position on the bar. 

Gage did, however, listen with a vague amount of interest as Iris pursued Michael into the back room, though he wasn’t surprised in the least when she reappeared with an angry huff a moment later. He just shrugged at her exclamation, setting the mug down on the counter in no better shape than it had been when he’d picked it up and removing his feet from the surface of the bar. 

“He’s Michael. What did you expect?”

In all honesty, though, Gage wasn’t as carefree as he appeared. He was more pissed off than he was worried, because he had enough faith in the Elder to be fairly certain that Michael could take care of himself. And it wasn’t as if Gage had any intention of doing anything about it even if he was in some sort of trouble aside from making sure to reassert his own self-inflated authority because hell, Michael disappearing wasn’t much better than being ordered to mind the pub. And that was the driving source that motivated Gage enough to get off his ass and wander into the back room that Iris had just vacated. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Gage’s voice was measured, more carefully than he was typically wont to do. 

 Moving about the room with haste, Michael had gathered a few important things into a sack easily enough; a bottle of Elven blood he had been saving, paperwork on Thirst, and a few other objects. Still, there was something amiss. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He felt, down to his boots, that he was missing something. He glanced around, trying not to reach that panicked state many people often leap to when looking for something that might be misplaced. Eyes darting about the room, he lurched forward and leaned against one of the chairs that sat in front of the dusty fireplace. Getting down onto his knees, he checked under it, and saw nothing. Nothing except…

 ”My!”

 A smirk fell against his lips, pulling upwards at the right side of his mouth as he reached out. His hand wrapped around a small trinket that could belong to no one else than Collette. Retrieving the jewelry, Michael pushed himself back up, and opened his palm to get a better look. “Oh, yes. This is her’s, all right.” He chuckled, imagining what the two were doing for her to have so easily lost one of her obviously expensive pieces. Though, perhaps the slender size of it alone was easy to disregard. 

 Michael tucked the dainty necklace in his pocket.

 “Where the hell have you been?”

 A voice from the doorway cracked into the air, disturbing the quiet that came from Iris thankfully throwing her fit elsewhere. The Elder’s eyes darted to the door’s frame, and within it he found the last person he wanted a sassing from. 

 ”I’ve been out.” Bluntly, Michael’s monotone response left much to be desired. It radiated between them with it’s defiant touch. “You know, Iris and yourself are supposed to be worried about the pub, and it’s as dirty as ever. What do I pay you for?!” Barking, his tone fluctuated just before the Elder’s gaze turned away from the young Vampire and on to the sack in his hands.

 ”I’m busy looking for something. Get out of here.” Waving him off, Michael gestured for the stubborn boy to leave. Though, annoying as it was, it was somewhat interesting to see Gage display this kind of concern. 

 Breathless, the Elder steadily opened the door to Thirst. Surprisingly enough, it was hauntingly quiet. A quick survey around the front room, and all he could see was one lone figure sitting behind the bar. They clutched tightly on what he could only assume was a dirty mug. Bravely, Michael pushed the front door open and allowed himself inside. What was there he needed to be cautious of? This was his haven, his business. He didn’t need to bother with what these commoners would have to bat around at him about his absence. The thought alone preventing him from keeping his head high was ludicrous. If nowhere else, his own business should be a place he didn’t need to feel threatened by. 

 With cocky, broad strides he walked through the room without a word. No greeting to Iris who rushed by from the corridor, shock forcing her to take a second glance at the obscurely tall creature passing by her. Neither to Gage, who he recognized to be the lone figure behind the bar. The Elder’s eyes stayed pealed to the back room — his destination.

 ”Mi-Michael!” Iris turned on her heal, watching him flee and vanish into the back space as her grip loosened around the tray of cleaned goblets. She fumbled with it for a moment in her sudden manic state. “Michael!” She called to him again, more sure of herself as she gathered up her wits. 

 From the back room he could hear her, but he decided to stay quiet. In, and out. All he had to do was get his things. Just a few goods to bring to The Draugr’s domain, and he’d be free from here for awhile longer. 

 The door opened slowly, causing a loud CREEEAAAKK! to cut through the stale air. “M-Michael…?” Iris’ head peaked from the doorway. Concern painted on her features as she watched the Elder rummage through his things. “Stop ignoring me, old man! Where have you been?! Don’t you know how worried we’ve been?” He remained quiet. “Are you deaf now? Answer me!” Over his shoulder he turned his head to look at her. 

 ”What, Iris? Can you not see I’m busy?” 
 ”Busy?! You think you’re busy?! Ugh!” 

 She stomped out of the room, leaving the door open — something he had always told her he hated. “Stupid girl…” Muttering under his breath, the Elder turned back to his things. 

 His stomach grumbled. How could he honestly still be so hungry?

 ”…Oh, he’s impossible, Gage!” 

 Iris’ yelling floated to the back room.

 All he had to do was get his things.

 The road behind him was caked in blood. As the victims of his hunger hung from tree branches like ornaments, tossed sporadically onto the sturdy limbs that stretched above the dirt paths. Five, six, seven… The body count continued to climbed with every encounter he made along the way. Which each new person that dared to stroll through the darkness of Hallowed Oaks, the Vampire’s savage hunger boiled in the pits of his stomach. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t subside the urges forcing him to feed. The all encompassing starvation needed to be appeased, though no amount of mortal blood was helping. 

 Michael ripped his mouth away from yet another carcass, having drained it almost to completion. But, again, it did nothing to dull the itch that now seemed un-scratchable. Annoyed, he shoved the body away carelessly, allowing it to tumble off the dirt path and into the dark, thick brush. The red liquid stained along the edges of his lips, and had even alluded the male’s otherwise obsessive behavior over his appearance and splattered against his attire. His tongue licked at his lips as he stayed crouched close to the ground. Ears pricked up, the wild man listened for any other large creatures around that might be able to finally quench this desire. He needed bigger, better — something with thick, juicy liquid pulsing warmth through its body. He needed far more than what mortals could provide.

 Perhaps it was because of Asa that he was like this now. That no amount of ordinary mortal life could sustain his own Godly force. He felt entitled to more; more, more, more. And with her, he got what he wanted. She opened his eyes to what his life could be, and since then he has been able to have all of it and then some. And now, turning back to such a simplistic way of survival seemed moot. She brought purpose to his life, and wandering away from it for even a moment felt unnecessary. Why should he — a Vampire — lessen himself to these means ever again? 

 He scoffed, and in one motion stood up to his full stature. 

 The Elder wiped the smear of blood from around his mouth, and headed down the path through the cool, dark trees. 

 It felt like centuries had come and gone since he had last stepped foot into Night Haven. As the cold night air picked up and ran through him, his eyes met that of the welcoming posts. He was home, though looking at the familiar setting now…it felt foreign down to his bones. Slowly, he took easy steps forward. Unrecognizable, Night Haven sat in quiet as he approached the first few buildings that he used to know so well. Strange how only a month or so could make what he once considered his home look and feel so out of place in his eyes. 

 For a few moments, he took careful steps. As if someone, or something, would jump out at him and catch him — for lack of better terms. But oh, was that absurd. He was mighty, a warrior. He was above these people, above this life now. He didn’t need to worry about their approval, or lack their of. He needed to leave that mindset behind him; leave all of this behind him. He had a Queen now, a leader, a lover. He had what he needed to grow and hone his skills. Night Haven felt like a weight, a bothersome little gnat in the back of his skull. It reminded him of his failures. It reminded him of a life he wanted to sever ties with. Of his business, and his modest lifestyle. Of the pain and pure anguish that came with memories of Wisteria. Of Emery, and all he as a Maker had failed to do for him.

 Emery… 

 The Vampire stopped in his tracks, fists balling themselves up again. 

 That night at the tournament came flooding back to his mind, as if remembering a dream. He bit his lip to keep from snarling, pressing on slowly as the visions of Emery in combat played through his head like pictures flying by at high speed. Cole had him entered. She served him up on a platter, risking his life as if it was her own to offer. She’s lucky he lived, he barked at her in his head. They were all lucky he lived; Asa, Cole, the whole audience in that stadium. They should count themselves blessed that they cheated the worst of his wrath. 

 Michael stopped again, now only a few yards down the road that led to the house he had contracted for Emery and Rosemary. His gaze followed the pressed in path down to what seemed like a dimly lit Frost residence.

 The smell… 

 For a moment… Just a moment… Michael’s heart fluttered with pain. 

 His eyes closed slowly has he stood there, breathing in the distinct scent of his child. That scent alone, it was the only thing that felt any semblance of a home to him here. Deep, sturdy breaths. In, and out. He soaked it in like a sponge. 

 When his eyes crept open, the desperation was obvious. He had left Emery to his own devices for so long now. He had, essentially, allowed his child the freedom away from his Maker he felt was best. And, in doing so, Michael had created a valley between them. With Emery on one side, and the Elder painfully on the farthest end of the other side. Although he felt like he had more to offer the boy, what with his new perspectives on life, he had already built this separation between the two that would need more time than a quick hello and a hug to mend. Far more. And that realization was hardest to swallow. 

 Gathering himself, the blood soaked Michael turned away from the road and headed straight for Thirst. How he could ever look Emery in the face would need more time to prepare and ponder over. He couldn’t just show himself and expect the boy to fall into his arms. But, with every moment away from him that valley grew considerably. He couldn’t keep this distance between them. As much good as it might have seen at the time, the damage it was doing was becoming a mountain he would need to conquer if he ever wanted them to be the same.

 Though, he would unflinchingly conquer any obstacle for the boy.

 The Elder headed towards Thirst. He just needed to get some of his things…

 Heavy boots dug into the ground. The wind rushed passed him as his body stretched out as me moved atop of the hill not far from The Draugr’s domain, catching in his coat and causing the material to sway about his legs. The Elder’s eyes — now lost of any color they had once held — looked out across the lands with renewed lifelessness. Cold, distant, they surveyed the night as if they had never before witnessed its delights. Like a playground, the ideas of what might become of his awakening in the early rays of the moonlight seemed limitless to his imagination. A small, devilish smirk pulled at the fine corners of his pale lips as he soaked up the view, imagining it fading into a wasteland at his feet.

 A child of Asa, Michael had become increasingly poisoned by the woman’s devious ways. Taken under her wing, the longer he spent in her presence, the more he began to see the world through her eyes. And, through them, he found the truth. The enlightenment he had longed for. Through her eyes, he was able to see what was right in front of him the whole time.

 His blackened gaze turned to the moon, and for a brief second he coward at it’s bulbous size and how it scolded him. But then, he scoffed. He didn’t need whimsical ideals like those of ‘Mother Moon’. He didn’t need a false being of nurture in his life anymore. He was all he needed, all that mattered. Vampires. They were the gods to be revered. All other deities were nothing more than conjured hallucinations from imaginations foolishly allowed to run rampant. He was an immortal, who fed on all other living beings — man, to supernatural creatures that dared to venture into the wilds of the night. He was a god, born into the highest ranks of life. 

 His eyes pulled away from the sky and fell back on to the view before him. No, he didn’t need anything else in the world. He had it all. 

 As the Vampire’s eyes scanned along the horizon, peering through to the trees opposite of him with a stern hold, he stood in complete forgetfulness of what it was like to look at the world and not feel a sickening pain in his stomach. It had been how long now? A month? Maybe more? Not nearly a long enough time to lose one’s brazen hold of the good left lingering in the world. And yet, there was Michael.

 He looked on in hunger, in dire lust of the ambitious possibilities of the kinds of blood he could drain out there. As he watched out over Athoria now, all he saw was a meal.

 Saliva pooled in his mouth, and the creature licked his lips as he gulped it back. How did he ever survive without the wisdom and guidance of Queen Asa? How did he ever survive without seeing his true potential, what he truly was? Michael had grown a loathing for Chandra, for Babanel. For what they hadn’t taught him. Why were they so modest? Why would they lessen themselves for humans? Why? 

 The Vampire grimaced at the thoughts, and shoved them back into the farthest corners of his consciousness. He didn’t need to continuously dwell on their flaws. What did they matter? He found his path, and who cares if it took him this long? He found what he needed. He had everything. Everything he had previously been lacking.

 His fists clenched, and his eyebrows narrowed to furrow just above the void of his eyes. Perhaps now, with a new-found sense of self, he could venture back into society. Perhaps now, he could show his face in confidence of who and what he is. 

 With one foot following the other, Michael ventured from his perch, heading down along the side of the steep hill. One right after the other, with a cocky swagger in his step, his feet seemed to glide all on their own. Tonight, Night Haven. No other perfect destination to begin his grand reintroduction into the world.

asa-ibsen:

“He is your progeny, is he not? Perhaps his success in the arena is a testament to your skills as a mentor,” Asa murmured coldly. She kept her eyes glued to the field, refusing to make eye contact with Michael. “I would hope you had taught him well enough to defend himself,” she added casually. Asa let the words hang in the air, her snide comments a blatant punishment for Michael for his disrespectful tone. With a wave of her hands the fight began, The Queen leaning forward in anticipation.

“And just so we’re perfectly clear, talking to me with that tone and threatening my guests is an extreme danger to your health.”

But Asa was unsettled by the words, surprised by the venom in his voice and the hatred burning in his narrowed eyes. She had assumed Michael would be irritated by the appearance of his progeny, but the sheer weight of his glare made it clear it was far more serious than she had assumed.

“For god’s sake, Sit down Michael. You’re making a scene,” she hissed, unmoving from her seat. The last of the excitement from the festivities faded as she looked towards her irritated companion. The Queen was unused to being disobeyed and even less used to being threatened. And her already souring mood from the disappointing defeats from The Draugr members sent her temper skyrocketing.  “Sit,” she snapped, a dangerous edge to her tone.

 Michael growled, not amused at the haughty tone her Majesty took with him. His eyes rolled as he leaned forward and watched. If he had half his wits he’d have turned around and snapped her delicate neck in half, just to shut her annoying, whiny mouth. Brat. The Elder hissed at her, barely turning his head enough to acknowledge her at all. But, who could ignore her presence? Her obvious livid insides poured out of her as she commanded he sat. The force of her hushed barking pushed Michael closer to the brink, but he found his ground and kept as controlled as he could.

 His hands found the edges of the seat as he leaned back. His fingers curled around that edge and began a fierce, white-knuckled grip as Emery and the member of The Draugr engaged in combat. The whole time, Michael’s stomach did acrobatics as it clenched below his skin. His body was in knots, his mind raced so quickly that at times he felt as if the world itself was spinning around him. He was nauseous watching the only thing in the universe left that truly mattered to him risk their life. And, for what? For his Maker to accept him? To be proud? Emery would honestly go this far to get that from him? 

 Michael’s teeth bit at his bottom lip while his eyes danced in his head as Emery and Mary moved throughout the battlefield. The arena lit up, but soon enough the noise faded into nothingness. All Michael could hear, could feel, was the thumping of his mind charging with worry and he would remain that way right until the last moments of this fight.

 But the Elder’s face turned stern and cold, like hard marble. Worry and fright escaped him. Asa was right, in some sense. His progeny was a prince; a boy who’s blood ran deep through his Undead veins. Emery was his father’s child, and his force was one to be reckoned with because of it. Suffering as the child danced with Death, Michael held hope close to him. There would be no way he could lose. He simply couldn’t — not because of the darkness that lurked within him, but because their time together was too short lived. Their journey would be an epic novel that out-stretched any before it. There could be no way.

 It wasn’t until Emery’s blade imploded through the Draugr’s chest that Michael expressed any emotions at all. He jumped up and cheered with the hundreds, and thousands of those around him as victory was called. A large grin surfaced over his face and joy radiated from him. Though, he stopped, catching himself in the act and feeling Asa’s annoyed looks cutting through his flesh. He turned back and the happiness fell away for a moment. 

 ”We need to talk when this is over.” 

 He nodded to his Queen, a gesture of his excusing himself from the arena. The Elder took off, down through the halls of the enormous structure. So many feelings, all at once. Anger, happiness, shock, fear… They rolled into one giant, annoying ball of feelings that he didn’t want to feel.

All he really wanted was to know how exactly Emery got there without him knowing.

asa-ibsen:

Asa smiled gently as Michael brought his lips to her hand, her eyes falling possessively on him. He was the pride of her collection, a flawless specimen, hers. 

“I’d run circles around these mindless brutes, my Queen. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

She laughed, casually running her hand though his hair. “I have no doubt you could destroy any I set in your path, young one. And I’ll insist you wear no other woman but mine’s favor when you fight so everyone will know you’re my champion.”

The Queen had grown enamored with the boy. Everything seemed to be more fun with Michael. And after a grueling day of business and procedure, the only place she wanted to be was beside him. She loved his child-like wonder at her lifestyle and the genuine enjoyment he seemed to get from his new status amongst the clan. Asa had never considered searching for mate. It had never appealed to her. But if this was what it was like, perhaps she had been wrong all this time. 

 ”How silly these boys are.” 

She chuckled in agreement, nodding approvingly down at Ajdra who held the limb up to The Queen proudly. With a wave of her hand the human was carried of the field, the tell-tale deathly pallor of his cheeks and the blood soaked grass leading Asa to believe the fallen human’s blood would more likely than not be her dinner. 

“Ajdra is one of our best. He’s the only challenger fighting twice today,” she murmured to Michael. “An absolutely beautiful fighter. Perhaps you two could spar at some point. Perhaps we could go into town at some point and have a blade forged for you.” 

 A blade. Michael scoffed and shook his head at her as the crowds roar fell, awaiting for the new fight to begin. “I don’t need a child’s toy, Asa. After all, are I not made as a weapon? My force alone can drive any being to their knees.” His eyes glanced at the arena, a brazen smirk resting more prominently on his face. “You taught me that.” He leaned his head against her palm as her fingers ran affectionately through his mane. “Besides, when facing mortals, how fun could it be to kill them with a blade as opposed to your appendages? It is what they’re there for…” His cockiness faded as the crowd’s hollering boomed through his ears and erupted about the area. The music from the various horns and trumpets lulled, and Michael edged forward in his seat with obvious excitement. “Look! We’re already on to another.” He pulled at Asa’s hand and gestured for her to watch along side him.

 Through the dim lighting of the torches that stretched around the arena, the Elder watched as a figure was brought out by the host below and led to the center of it all. 

 “Emery Charles Frost. Progeny of Michael Allan DePalmado!”

 The place exploded with extreme excitement. But, as Michael’s eyes bore holes into the familiar figure, the noise started to contort into disturbing, muffled sounds. For a moment, dizziness overwhelmed him and a feeling of faint flooded his body. But, still, he could not sit back. Fixed on Emery’s frame, Michael’s demeanor fell from child-like enthusiasm for the events, to a devastating thunder of worry. It brought him to his feet, and he walked towards the rail of the raised platform. Terror painted over his face, and for once Michael couldn’t hide his feelings now. 

 He could feel Asa’s curiosity behind him, and a couple of others around them watching him as he leaned over the rail. Confusion lined his expression as a mixture of emotions rolled through his body all at once. He saw Emery look around, and briefly their eyes met. Staring at one another, a silent word was passed between the two and it was all Michael needed to spark something inside of him. Something that, no matter how much he felt like he belonged in The Draugr’s society, he needed much more. His child, his son. His progeny, who was the sky that held up the Moon in his world. Michael reached out just as Emery turned away and prepared to battle. He shouted for him, but over the crowd it was useless. Caught in distress, the Vampire’s chest tightened and his heart grew dim with hopelessness. 

 “Mary, of The Draugr!”

 The girl was being brought out, but Michael paid her no attention. Anger seethed beneath his skin as he ripped himself away from the railing and sat beside the Queen of The Draugr. His eyes narrowed.

 ”If he dies, so will everyone else in here.” He murmured under his breath and took to Asa, unafraid. It was the first time that he looked at her with disgust. With sheer, unadulterated loathing. “Do you understand that?” He folded his arms and watched the battle begin. “How could you do this, Asa? That’s my son…” Pained, Michael bit at his lip and forced himself to witness what could be the end of his progeny’s life. “You better pray that girl dies.”

asa-ibsen:

The elder listened to the boy, her response already forming in her mind as Michael spoke. It was not difficult to think up a plan to encircle the boy. And she had unfaltering confidence that she could convince the boy to stay at the manor. Who wouldn’t want to be pampered, waited on, clothed finely and fed on request? She had him right where she wanted him

Asa listened silently, a look of patient attentiveness on her face. But when she spoke there was a new conviction in her tone. “Michael, I am going to speak openly with you. I cannot help but feel as though we were supposed to meet tonight. Perhaps you were supposed to be lead here. You need a new start, little one. And I believe that is something I can offer you.”

The Queen leaned in closer, a knowing gleam in her eye. “We all lose our way at times, Michael,” she cooed, reaching a confident hand out to stroke his cheek.”You must not let that get you down. Here is my offer: stay at Draugr Hall as long as you’d like to. I have plenty of room, food and clothing here. And perhaps I can give you a taste of what you’d like your life to be like.” She paused, allowing her offer to sink in. “And Asa…call me Asa,” she added softly. 

 He felt the brush of her fingers on his cheek, and the comfort her words brought him was undeniable. “Asa…” He tested the Queen’s name, sighing it as his eyes met her enticing gaze. He leaned his head against her palm and smiled somewhat. Her offer was generous. So much so that he left it lingering in the air for a few moments. Hesitant, the Vampire shifted uncomfortably in the tub. His eyes left her own and looked around the room as he pondered.

 What would it be like to belong somewhere again? He had already tried his hands in a haven; De La Nuit, and his own small circle. How would this chance be any different from then? Surely he was older, but it didn’t feel as if he had grown into anything more than what he was when Babanel changed him. He was lost, probably more so than even when he was young. Perhaps he needed the guidance of another in his life. Perhaps this opportunity would steer him towards what he needed, what he wanted. 

 It was worth a shot. What more could he lose?

 ”I would like to stay here. I accept the offer, Asa.” He smiled at her as his attention fell back to the Queen. “I suppose it was fate that brought me to you.”

asa-ibsen:

From her place on the elevated platform Asa watched another Draugr member fall, a fixed smile on her lips. The Draugr Queen’s eyes burned with anger, her hands curved into fierce talons. But still the smile remained as all eyes turned to see her reaction. She released her tight grip on the fronts of her armrest with reluctance, clapping robotically as the fallen Draugr member was carried from the field. She would not let them see her frustration at the loss, doing her best to maintain the unfazed facade she wore. 

Her mouth was tight and grim as she turned to Michael, allowing him for a moment to see how she really felt. “That’s another one fallen,” she murmured darkly. “I can’t afford many more.” The Queen sighed, the plastered smile returning as the next challengers made their way onto the field. She clapped again, playing the part of the hostess as she stood to address the challengers. “FIGHT!”

And with a mighty roar from The Draugr challenger, the next fight began. Asa sunk back into her chair, her eyes following the movement on the field, her lips turning up into a triumphant smile as Ajdra rained down hit after hit on her human opponent. “That’s more like it,” she murmured approvingly, turning her attention to Michael. “I hope you’re enjoying the festivities. I can confidently say this is one of my favorite events we hold. Perhaps next year you could be one of my champions.” Her hand moved to his, her thumb lightly stroking the back of his hand. “Only if you’d like to of course.”

 Michael smirked as his eyes watched intently over the battle below. He sat, perched on a platform beside his Queen, with ferocity in his gaze. More and more, The Draugr below were being slain in to unparalleled submission. It was painful to watch, but beside Asa he played the part of an unconcerned patron as well he could. Besides, this is what the tournament was about, no? Weeding out the men from the boys. With each roar of the crowd, no matter how the battle was playing out, it was an invigorating experience to behold such brutality. Easily, this was something about The Draugr Michael was becoming quickly most impressed with. They were hunters, killers. People who basked in the bloodshed they so readily longed for; whether it was their own blood, or otherwise. It proved that they were worthy of being likened to Gods. And, those lesser deserved to be exposed like this.

 “I hope you’re enjoying the festivities. I can confidently say this is one of my favorite events we hold. Perhaps next year you could be one of my champions. Only if you’d like to of course.”

 Her hand brushed along his, and immediately the Vampire’s palm opened up and took hers inside of it. He pulled it slowly up to his lips and offered a delicate kiss to her knuckles. “I’d run circles around these mindless brutes, my Queen. Wouldn’t you agree?” He smirked at her, sharing thoughts through one another of their short, yet already interesting time together where Michael had countless chances of showing off his skill. Beside Asa, he felt powerful — like he belonged. And, it wasn’t just her. The younglings of The Draugr looked up to him; praised him like he mattered and that he could do no wrong. It felt nice, for once, to feel so validated in your choices. 

 ”Oh, look! His arm is gone!” A cry from the stands broke through the roars and was followed with a hail of sheer joy. Michael’s eyes turned back to the arena as he watched Ajdra gloating of his prize: a severed limb. Gleefully, a chuckle escaped Michael’s pale lips. “He acts as if there aren’t more limbs to be had,” he murmured to Asa. 

 ”How silly these boys are.” 

asa-ibsen:

Asa watched with obvious amusement, chuckling at the female servant’s reactions to Michael’s naked form. “I hate to tear you away from your fun, ladies. But I need to talk to our guest alone.” The ladies-in-waiting reluctantly departed, throwing glances over their shoulders at the handsome vampire. “I said alone, ladies. I’m sure you have better things to do than ogle Michael all night. Go polish some armor or something. Off you go.”

The elder shut the door behind them, shaking her head in amusement. Stepping back into the steamy room, Asa pulled a chair from the corner, sitting next to Michael and gesturing towards two glass jars sitting on the side table next to the tub. “There are powered rose petals and lavender right there if you’d like to add them to the bath. It takes out some of the repulsive well-water smell. Lavender is my personal favorite.” 

She reclined, eyeing her guest with interest. Her gaze traveled down his pale torso, lingering on the gentle grooves of his hip bones. There was no disputing the boy was striking. But his resigned, detached demeanor fascinated the Queen just as much as his pretty face. “So, are you going to explain the whole brooding, angst filled thing you have going on? The emotions emanating off you are enough to drive even the happiest of souls to misery. Why are you here, Michael?”

 He sank below the water, allowing himself to fully submerge within its warmth. It tickled his skin as it wrapped around him and cradled his naked form. It felt heavenly, divine. It raised his Undead temperature barely — ever so slightly. Enough for him to imagine the warm blood his human body had provided, hundreds of years ago. After a few moments Michael’s head emerged from the water and caught the glimpse of the welcoming Queen closer to the tub. He moved forward through the dark pool and rested his arms against the ledge, leaning towards her as she spoke. 

 “There are powered rose petals and lavender right there if you’d like to add them to the bath. It takes out some of the repulsive well-water smell. Lavender is my personal favorite.” 

 A smile arose as he tilted the jars towards him to smell inside. Their scent reeked, sending a chill through his body. They were pungent enough, certainly, to drown probably any queer smell away. He chuckled and pulled a handful of lavender out before mixing them into his bath. Almost instantly the fresh smell of powdered lavender filled the moist air around them. He moved through the murk again and leaned on the tub’s edge. And yet, as he looked up at the royalty before him, the comfort of the pool grew less and less. The burdens haunting him weighed greatly.

 “So, are you going to explain the whole brooding, angst filled thing you have going on? The emotions emanating off you are enough to drive even the happiest of souls to misery. Why are you here, Michael?”

 Was it so obvious? 

 He smiled again; a facade of sorts he used in a vain attempt to seem positive. To seem stronger than he recently had been. But, her question pressed down on the already heaviness he was experiencing along his shoulders and throughout his spirit. Why was he there?

 ”It cannot be summed up so easily, M’Lady.” He leaned back until his body was fully exposed just below the water distorting it. His back reached the opposite end of the tub, and from there he sank a bit until just his chin was above the clapping waves. A quick debate was had with himself. He knew nothing about this Ancient being, other than their drooling status. Was she trustworthy?

 ”I doubt the Queen of such a large haven would want to bore herself with my ramblings of a boy who grew up without his father, hm?” He smirked and blew a few bubbles through the water. But, the sting of those words bore through his chest. The smirk fell away, and Michael’s familiar brooding expression remained in its place. 

 ”I’ve lost my way. I’ve lost who I am. I don’t…” Frustrated, he sighed and looked up at her again. “I have strayed from a path I thought was leading me somewhere I needed to be. Instead, it led me here.” Defeated, he sank back and sat up a ways. “I thought everything was going to work out, but I suppose it was all for not. Though, that’s not to say this isn’t a gracious surprise, M’Lady. I truly do appreciate your hospitality… I’m just lost.”

asa-ibsen:

Asa chuckled, her eyes never leaving her beloved manor. “Aye, young one,” she murmured proudly. “It’s mine.”  She walked up the steady incline, toward the lantern light shining from the top of the small hill, topiary trees dotting the sides of the worn dirty pathway.  Asa glided toward the giant wood doors, nodding to the armed sentries standing watch. “The boy is with me,” The Queen assured them as they eyed Michael warily. Stepping through their parted lances, she threw open the doors effortlessly, the few bustling servants nodding silent ‘hellos’ as they carried the last of the servant’s meal dishes to the well for washing. The elder stopped, murmuring something firmly to them and watching with satisfaction as one of them broke off from the rest of the group  to carry out whatever The Queen had commanded. She continued on, her back to Michael as she began to ascend the grand staircase

“Pick up your jaw from the floor, child. And follow me,” she murmured, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips as her voice echoed through the spacious house. With the light from the torches guiding her way she rounded the steps, not seeming to care about the dusty footprints that marked each step. Slinking up the last stair she turned for the first time, her smiling face illuminated eerily in the flicker of the torches.

“You can use my bathing chambers. I’ll have my lady-in-waiting fetch you clean clothes.” With another crook of her finger she beckoned him on, guiding the boy down the hallway to one of the last rooms on the left. The elder turned the knob, steam wafting from the room as the servant from before poured the last of the hot water into a large washing tub. 

“You may give Elsa your clothes, Michael. She will find you new ones. Though say your goodbyes to those filthy rags because I insist they be burned immediately,” she commanded with a wave of her hand. The Queen crossed her arms expectantly, showing no signs of leaving to preserve his modesty. 

 Michael followed behind like a lost puppy. His eyes grew wide at the interior of the small fortress as his steps mimicked the Queen’s own. In her footsteps he wandered through a dimly lit passages, watched as dozens of servants came and went by all the while acknowledging the woman’s fierce presence with obvious intimidation of her. They almost never looked her in the eyes — at least, not the younger ones. 

 “Pick up your jaw from the floor, child. And follow me.”

 Her murmur sunk through the air between them and broke him from the spellbinding appeal of her manor. He quickened behind her up a marvelous staircase, stopping on a step. Though he took a moment to watch her ascend before tagging along, Michael felt oddly at home here. As if being surrounded by people who would give them anything, serve him however he wished, brought some kind of boost to his self-esteem. He found the feeling both odd, and appetizing to a dwindling confidence.

 He pressed on passed the torches that danced shadows against stone, against his already ominous appearance. They contorted his frame; blackening parts of his exposed, dirty body. His mind wandered away as he fell into his head with a realization of following a strange and obviously dangerous Ancient might serve him no good down the road. And yet, again, he found himself drawn to her. She was willing to share her food, share her home and it’s bathing facilities. She was willing to take him in like the stray he had turned into. Her prowess was undeniable; the way she moved with her head held up. The way her hips rocked as she glided across the room. The way she spoke of her and her people, likening them to Gods. Were they Gods? Were his own kin Godly in their damnation? Is their apex nature truly what made them superior? 

 The idea… it sparked the need inside of him. A need to feel wanted somewhere, anywhere. A need to know if he was truly being all he could be for himself… For Emery.

 Steam brushed at his nose and Michael stopped in his tracks. He looked down and watched as the Queen cracked open the door to her bathing quarters.

“You may give Elsa your clothes, Michael. She will find you new ones. Though say your goodbyes to those filthy rags because I insist they be burned immediately.”

 Could villains really be so charismatic? 

 He smiled, charmed by her, but the hesitation he felt laced itself in his response. “Fine, M’Lady.” The Vampire walked in, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity as the view of a few, fair looking maidens glanced over him. A blush fell in their faces, and Michael felt a modesty he hadn’t in years. He’d never been served like this. Not even in the castles of his own heir. 

 ”This way.” One of the women grabbed his arm gently, leading him from the doorway and towards the large tub of steaming water. “Here, here! You can undress, we’ll find you clothes.” She giggled as she spoke and it only made him more hesitant. But, sure enough, Michael disrobed. He pulled at his trousers, undoing them being their makeshift belt made of cloth. He undid his boots and tugged them away from his feet. He slipped his thumbs between his undergarment and, with one quick jerk, pulled them down over his knees and kicked them aside. 

 ”Do I, uh… Get in?” One of the women nodded with a brazen smile fixed to her face. Carefully the male stepped forward and lifted his leg over the side. He slipped himself down into the hot water, allowing himself to — for once — relax. “Ah…” He sighed, relieved to be warm and feel full all at the same time. The steam tickled his nose and caressed his face like a warm blanket. He grinned, eyes closed. 

asa-ibsen:

 Asa stood unmoving in the moonlight, staring at the silhouette of the manor with a serene smile as she waited for the young vampire to catch up. It was breathtaking. And it was all hers. Even after all this time the fruits of her labor swelled her with pride. And she had little doubt she could capture the boy in her spell and make him hers as well. His vulnerability and raw emotion made him maliable, an ideal individual for her to mold into the partner she needed. As much as she tried to ignore it, ruling was a lonely job. And trusting anyone was a difficult enough with all the enemies she had. But Michael obviously had no idea who she was. It was refreshing to have that clean slate, that opportunity to have someone meet her completely on her terms.

 The wind whistled through the tall grass around her, her pantallons billowing around her pale, slender legs. Candlelight flickered in a few of the windows as the members of The Draugr awoke and prepared for their long nights of work, most of the servants asleep for the night.

The Queen could hear Michael approach, but still she kept her eyes on Draugr Hall, drinking in it’s beauty. And a soft smile of satisfaction played on her lips. She had everything she had ever wanted: fame, glory, riches and power. And now perhaps she would have a toy to play with.

 Michael flexed his muscles finally noticing the soreness of them after having starved so much, and suddenly taken to drinking the life from a mortal. The new blood that surged through his body renewed him of life, but even as he walked towards the dimly lit structure he had to question whether his life was winding down a path he wanted to live. As he came from the shadows, from the thickness of the wood, he stepped both lightly and curiously towards the Queen and the manor that sat behind her. It was larger than that of De La Nuit, and must have been a haven to hundreds of Vampires just like their Queen. In awe of this, his mouth dropped slightly as he moved closer to her. 

 ”This — this is yours then?” 

 The question left him almost to gasp for air. The building was of an old Gothic architecture, reminding him of the cathedral Chandra called her haven back in London. It was enormous. Breathtaking, to say the least, as it sat there to be kissed by the new appearing moon above. 

 His eyes pulled away and fell on the Queen. Her look of satisfaction, of pride, was a gloriously beautiful sight in itself. He’d never seen someone so… so happy, in awhile. “I suppose you might have a few bathing areas in this, hm?” He chuckled and stepped closer still.

 Oh, her scent.

 If Michael were younger, he’d have foolishly taken her and ravaged the blood from her veins. The sweetness of it, the aging that marinaded it perfectly just under her pale skin… The male licked his lips and straightened up, looking back to the manor.

asa-ibsen:

“Most queens grow fat and foolish on their thrones. I am a vampire. It is my nature to feed. The idea of being served all my blood in some gilded goblet is ridiculous,” she scoffed. 

Asa followed his eyes to her exposed torso, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with getting dirty, Michael,” she murmured, running her finger along his blood slick jaw and bringing it to her lips. The Queen grinned cheekily at the younger vampire. “Now, if you’ve finished your meal you desperately need a bath and change of clothes. My manor isn’t far from here.” She gestured for him to follow, standing on the branch and plummeting unflinchingly from the high perch.

The vampire rose from her crouched position on the cool ground, staring up at her companion. “Now, let’s see if you can catch me,” she murmured, knowing his undead ears could hear her over the wind. With a laugh, she disappeared through the trees, ripping through the underbrush. Her bare feet sunk into the cool soil, branches whipping past her. 

“This way, young one,” she called, her voice echoing through the wood. She broke through the last of the trees, sliding onto the dirt road and kicking up the dust. Allowing her instinct to takeover, she relished in the rich scent of the country soil, running into the path of the wind. But the wind was no match for the elder, the gusts roaring in her ears. Asa could smell the other vampire on her trail, his scent propelling her forward. The looming towers of Draugr Hall grew closer, the land leveling out into a lush green field. 

 Michael’s curiosity grew as he watched her with sheer interest as she took off through the wood. To have met a Queen who mimicked the Ancient Vampires he had only heard about in stories shared with him from both Chandra and Babanel… It felt like an unsettling blessing that he was most unworthy of. He had seen her amusement in him — even interest — and the touch she left on his jaw seemed to keep him frozen in place as goosed flesh rose along his arms. Blood soaked and dirty, Michael looked himself over. She was right, he needed to bathe desperately. As his eyes followed the patterns of blood splatter and mud, he almost didn’t recognize himself. It wasn’t like him to be dirty. Elders weren’t dirty — they were civil. He was civil. 

 Without much thought on the matter, he jumped from the branch and hit the ground with a loud thud that cracked into the night. He pushed off with his left foot and ventured forward with Undead speed, though he knew he’d not be able to keep up. She was older, and he could smell it in the air; in the scent she left on him. Her blood, as old as time itself, smelt like something out of a dream. Something that only his subconscious could have conjured up. As he breezed through the underbrush, following her scent, he had to reason with himself whether or not he was dreaming. 

 But then, moments later, he found himself staring down the darkness of a lush green field. And there, in the distance was a hidden oasis. A large, ominous haven of what must have been this Queen’s residence. He stiffened for a moment and took a breath before trudging forward for it. 

 There was no turning back. Michael would be damned if he could turn down a Queen now — after having already owed her so much for attempting to take her kill, and then sharing it with her. 

calvin-sorrevillo-athorian:

Calvin smiled at Michael as he said just what he’d thought. He knew that his friend hadn’t read his mind, he still had his mental shield down, and he adored that Michael thought the same thing he had. He nodded once, before going towards Michael and wrapping his arms around him. He pulled back, holding onto his arms with a nod. “Yes. I think we should.” he stepped back, dropping his hands.

He looked back towards the manor with a sigh. “Are you certain?” he asked, “You know that Cole will not be pleased.” he pointed out. “I am certain Michael… But if we are to do this, then we must both be certain.” he said, feeling absolute contentment in the decision. This was the right thing to do. Forget about Asa and the Draugr. This is what he needed.

Calvin reached down to brush his finger over the petals of a rose. He pulled the bloom from the bush and raised it to his nose. He inhaled the scent slowly, and turned to Michael. “I will miss this place. But it’s time.” he said with a nod.

 Determination laced itself throughout Michael’s already stern, strong features. “No, Calvin. We have to do this. We’ve been coddled here, under Collette. I know she’ll hate us leaving, but it’s time that we get out from under her shadow. You and I… We deserve more than this. We grew up in this place, and we need to get out and become our own men — our own Vampires. We need to know who we are without the ruling of De La Nuit to hold us back.”

 “I will miss this place. But it’s time.”

 The Elder stepped forward and nodded in return. “It is. This is our time to shine. To become what we were always meant to be.” Michael’s voice trailed off as his gaze turned again to the manor. “When should we tell her? I don’t even know how to present this to her.”

asa-ibsen:

Asa snorted at his words and ripped her mouth from the puncture, regarding the younger vampire with faint amusement. “Do you know who you speak to, boy? You are addressing a queen. I will look at you however I please.” 

She licked the blood from her lips, letting the human’s hand fall limply to it’s side. With her back to the tree, she regarded the young vampire. The wind blew noisily through the tree, layering over the sounds of Michael’s mouth upon the girl’s arm. And the wind whipped her hair around her cheeks, plastering the white, thin material of her shirt to her torso. 

“Besides,” The Queen murmured, her eyes lingering hungrily on Michael. “You’re a decent looking boy. I’m sure you’re not unaccustomed to stares.” The overwhelming scent of Michael’s hunger enveloped her, but she ignored her renewed hunger, prefer to watch the boy enjoy the last of their meal instead. 

 Michael snarled as his mouth ripped large, gaping wounds into the innocents’ flesh. Blood ran over the sides of increasingly pale skin and dripped down to stain its own clothes, as well as his trousers. Dirty and starved, Michael gnawed constantly — even over the supposed Queen’s words. They felt scolding as they leaked from her mouth, but that was to be expected. She was not as snooty as other Queens. Not as feminine in the way she carried herself, clearly. She was a different breed; cut from a uniquely cloth all her own. And, of course, something about that poise made Michael’s undead soul float from his body and flutter. It had been a long, long time since he knew of Ancient’s like this — primitive beings that made their own rules, as this Queen seemed to do. 

 He could only imagine how her clan ran.

 With another quick jerk of his head, Michel pulled the tissue from the Human’s bones and sucked on the flesh — ridding it in seconds of the blood between each pocket of muscle, tissue and skin. Mutilating a body was unlike him, but his body seemed to eagerly be feeding off the Queen’s energy.

 “You’re a decent looking boy. I’m sure you’re not unaccustomed to stares.”

 He looked up at her with a mouth full of meat, and smiled. Spitting it out over the sides of the branch, he pushed the mortal away and let them fall beside their rotting organs. 

 Michael crawled closer to the woman, careful of himself atop this flimsy branch. “What’s a Queen doing hunting for her own kills? Don’t you have people for that? Blood Dolls, or otherwise?” Slyly, his eyes narrowed to her and a smirk grew. “Isn’t it unheard of that a Queen get so dirty?” His gaze faltered for a moment to her now shear white top as it gripped her skin. 

asa-ibsen:

“We could turn them to dust if we wished it,” Asa murmured in hushed reverence, as she heard Michael climb the last branch to her perch. “The might of the vampire has never ceased to amaze me. We are Gods among men.”

She turned to the younger vampire, her ruby lips parted in sinister amusement, the feral longing wafting from her guest goading her on. Asa met his eye, approving of the youth’s enthusiasm. She studied the boy, lingering on sunken grooves of his cheeks and the almost maddened gleam in his eye. Further fascinating. Curiosity blossomed in her, Asa deciding she would get the story of this boy’s obvious misfortune.

“Please”

With a slight incline of her head she acknowledged Micheal’s request, bringing the human’s wrist to her mouth and sinking her fangs into the throbbing blue vein protruding from it’s milky white skin. Divine. The blood gushed into her open mouth, a look of serene pleasure clear on her face. She sucked hungrily, not allowing a drop of blood to stray away from her waiting lips or stain her fine clothing.

Asa turned her attention to her companion, pleased to see him enjoying the fruits of their labor with matching enthusiasm. And as his face was illuminated by moonlight, she turned her face to his, watching with appreciation as the young vampire drained their kill. This was how a vampire should be, she thought, the curve of her smile returning at the ferocity in Michael’s face. What a fine specimen. Even beneath the haggard mask, it was clear the boy was handsome, his silky raven hair billowing around his beautiful face.

And it that moment Asa decided she wanted to posses the youth. It was not purely a romantic yearning. Nor was it a relationship of two equals. No, she wanted to own the boy body and damned soul, to mark him as her own. Her predatory eyes never left Michael, her mouth still pressed to the dying girl’s wrist as she sized up her new possession. In the end everything and everyone had a price. And in time she would find his.

 Michael’s mouth gushed with saliva as he brought the Human’s other wrist to his lips. His eyes never wavered from those of the Elder, even as his fangs sunk deep into the veins of their meal and the blood that escaped pooled into his eager mouth. An animalistic pleasure took hold of him almost instantly, and Michael felt himself absentmindedly tugging at the mortal’s limb — gnawing at it like a dog anxious for more. His jaw jerked around it’s wrist, cutting into it’s flesh like razors as he pulled his mouth up it’s arm, leaving large wounds that ran up to it’s elbow.

 It. 

 In the Vampire’s overwhelming hunger, he had almost forgotten this being held importance of some kind — even a small kind — in this world. The more he fed, though, the less concerned with that trivial logic he became. He felt himself become a puppet to this nature that took hold. To this primal instinct that felt as if it were coming out from it’s tomb somewhere deep within him. It used him to feed, to give it strength. It forced him to eat, to hurt this entranced Human all he could. With another jerk of his jaw, Michael felt the bones of the mortal’s arm snap under the weight of a God-like jaw. The Elder beside him was right — he could turn this fragile doll into dust. But, it wasn’t what it deserved. Still, Michael was no longer in control of himself. He was no longer the same man he was before the stress of the world fell onto his broad shoulders. He needed this release, longed for it. Perhaps just this once he could have it privately, and then pick up the remains of him tomorrow. Just this once.

 Though, as his eyes lingered once more to the Elder, he watched an unsettling amusement play in her eyes. Spitting out the veins, the blood, and the torn tissue in his mouth, he spoke. 

 ”What?” A plain, flat voice came from him — and he couldn’t help himself to wonder why she looked at him like that. A man who had tried to steal her kill, one who she moments ago almost slaughtered herself. His hair — dirty and messy — fell about his face, shadowing it as he adjusted closer to her on the limb of the tree. “Stop looking at me like that.” He pulled the arm and continued his feed, sucking the bloody juice from the mortal’s arm. 

stephen-gatiss-freeman:

He sat for a moment consumed by shock. The request was not a surprising one given the path his father had created, but to physically hear the silent thoughts be put into words sent a frightening chill to run down the son’s spine. He sunk down into his chair feeling the heavy weight from the words on his chest. The man was cruel, heartless, corrupt even. But he was still his father. Despite his recent downfalls and unforgivable actions of putting his own people in danger for an unreachable goal, Richard Freeman still held a spot in his eldest son’s heart. A dwindling spot, but there none the less.

Stephen ran his fingers through the curled locks of his hair in obvious conflict. He understood the awkward position he had placed himself in and that even though this heartless beast filled him with disgust, his request held principle. Stephen was not one to admit defeat, although he could not deny the truth. This whole mess had been the fault of his father, had he kept to the unspoken code between the vampires and mortals perhaps it never would have come to this. With the rouge hunter out of the picture, why should things not fall back to the way they once were. But to take a part in the murder of his own father?

“No.”

His answer was simple, skewed perhaps from a residual paternal connection with the man but the single word held the strongest emotion his unfeeling form could muster. To have his father’s blood on his hands was not something he could justify. The thought alone sent a fire burning within. These worthless creatures may not have understood the relative connection of family, and for that he pitied them. Although Richard was a blinded fool he was still a Freeman. 

“He is but one man and of no consequence to the agreement.”

As the words left his mouth Stephen knew that it was a lie. Certainly the actions of one could tip the scale in the favour of either party, be it the fault of human or vampire. Stephen stood and walked to the other end of the room in thought, his hands slipping into the pockets of his pea coat while his lost eyes wandered about. He was not capable of such acts, he was not his father. Perhaps the man could be reasoned with, there was always a slight chance that he could be swayed to understand logic. But again, deep down, he knew this to be false. The stubborn man would never listen. He had it in his head that this destructive path was the only path to take and cared not for those that suffered the consequences. 

It made sense and, although he hated to admit it, a similar thought had crossed his own mind. The young man shook his head as he stared off into space, all but ignoring the vampires presence. He could not even consider such a devious plot. To turn his back on his family, his morals, God himself to make a pact with this vile demon. Grinding his teeth together Stephen turned and made for the door, each step stomping into the hard floor with purpose. He gripped the handle tightly and swung open the door to leave when the image of his town being subjected to unimaginable violence found him. Dozens of innocent families left to rot in the sun of the next day. With a heavy sigh the burdened man quietly shut the door and turned back to face DePalmado with a frightening glare.

“If I do this, if I agree to this then no harm will befall my people? I have your word that our agreement will stand?”

Clenching his fists together, the hunter stormed over to the vampire, standing tall next to the sitting figure. He loomed over the being and glared into those dead eyes with malice.

“If you so much as think about turning against me I will gather every one of my men come next morning, find you and your kin, drag your sleeping corpse into the sunlight, and watch you burn.”

 Michael blew smoke into the air, smirking all along while Freeman paced about the room. In his devilish, murderous head, Michael had met the Priest with a checkmate. This was their only option as he saw it, and the only thing he would accept. Nothing more, nothing less would ever do. Richard Freeman was growing more and more erratic, more and more senile. Getting him out of the way would serve a purpose for both parties. If Freeman did not want a bloodbath to ensue, then surely he’d take the bait. What was one, fragile little life in comparison to thousands and thousands? Nothing. Worthless.

 His eyes wandered to the door, hearing it creak ever so slightly as it opened. For a split second, Michael was shocked. He had almost considered the son of a horrendous Wight to be somewhat reasonable, with a mighty head on his shoulders for logic. It sparked a curiosity for Humans that the Vampire hadn’t quite had before. Did he really care so much for his father? For a man who was quickly becoming known for having lost all his wits? Were Humans so easily amused and compassionate to continue to see the value in a sack of rotting brain tissue?

 He leaned his elbow on the table and rocked slowly in his chair, watching with dulled eyes as the mortal caught himself in the doorway. He stared at the man as he so obviously racked his head. Amusement lit along Michael’s pale face. 

 Checkmate.

 “If I do this, if I agree to this then no harm will befall my people? I have your word that our agreement will stand?”

 Freeman practically charged at him, clenched fists and smoke coming out of his ears and nose. Although his words were laced with hatred, fear, and venomous spat, it continued to amaze Michael just how far this creature would go. 

 “If you so much as think about turning against me I will gather every one of my men come next morning, find you and your kin, drag your sleeping corpse into the sunlight, and watch you burn.”

 He smirked, lifting his hands. “You have my word, Freeman. No harm will come to you, or your people. I’ll see to it, always.” He extended his arm to the Priest, gesturing for a handshake to seal their fate. “Do we have a deal?”

calvin-sorrevillo-athorian:

Calvin gaped at Michael’s announcement. He never thought his friend would come to that. He had seemed to flourish while among the group. But as he mentioned Annora Calvin nodded in understanding. His hand squeezed his friend’s shoulder reassuringly and he gave him a small smile. “I understand.” he said soft and simple. He took a slow, deep breath, leaning over to smell the roses on the bush they stood before. He hadn’t been sure he could confide in his friend that he himself was leaving, but now seemed to be the perfect time.

He straightened his back again and looked Michael in the eye. “I am leaving as well.” he confessed, giving Michael a small crooked smile. “It seems we are much too similar for our own goods.” he teased. “But, I do not leave because I have met someone. I leave because I feel almost trapped. 300 years I’ve been here. I’ve made friends, I’ve learned and grown into myself. And yet, it doesn’t feel right. I think it is time for me to leave. To take what I have learned and to grow into myself on my own.” he explained.

What Calvin told Michael was most of the truth. He did think it was his time to leave. He probably would have left soon even without Asa’s command. And he did feel trapped. More and more lately there was an itch beneath his skin. A need to leave, to travel. Maybe he and Michael could leave together. It would be much simpler that way for them both. Less questions from Collette and from the others.

 Michael’s heart fluttered, almost relieved that Calvin felt much of the same way he did. A grin found it’s way across the Elder’s face. “You’re leaving, too? Oh, Calvin…” He wanted to jump out of his skin from the contentment that left. De La Nuit had taught both of them well enough. It had given them all that young Vampires could ask for, and then some. But, Calvin was right. Most right. It was their time to leave. To step away and spread their dusty, dead wings into the night. It was time they grew on their own and came into the men they were made to be. Men that would otherwise be held back by De La Nuit. 

 He turned, looking up at the large mansion. A feeling of melancholy hung in his chest as he thought back to all the blissful memories from once upon a time… 

 ”Maybe,” he began, staring at the building. No, it was their time. “Maybe we can leave together. I’d feel a lot better about saying goodbye with an old friend by my side.” Michael looked back over his shoulder to Calvin, and gave him a warm smile. 

 ”What do you say?”

asa-ibsen:

Asa hands closed around Michael’s, pulling the younger vampire to his feet with ease. Without waiting for a response she took off again, trying to pick up the scent of her escaping prey, not bothering to see if her companion followed. She returned to predatory mode, her body again poised to strike as she slunk through the underbrush. Raising her nose to the wind, she picked up the scent of the girl. The scent was close. But it seemed to linger in the air, giving no indication to the direction of the kill.

“It’s in the trees!”

A triumphant smile spread across her face as younger vampire called to her, her eyes falling on the wooded area off to the side of the road. In a blur of speed she came to the first tree, the scent of her potential kill growing stronger as she reached the base. The elder sunk her fingers into the rough bark of the tree,  “You think we can’t climb, child?” she called up into the thick canopy of branches, hoisting herself up the trunk, her talons sinking into the soft sinewy inside of the wood within. Asa pulled herself up to the first branch of the tree, leering at the huddled human above. “You smell delicious,” she purred, a cruel smirk turning up the corners of her lips.

Asa hummed as she climbed, not bothering to rush as she neared the branch where the girl huddled, the human staring wide-eyed like a mouse under a cat’s paw. “There you are!” She called, waving cheerful at her terrified prey. “My what a pretty thing you are. Almost makes me want to play with my food.” Asa continued to hum, the lively tune not matching the dangerous glint in her eye as she hoisted herself up to the thick corded branch where the girl sat trapped. The higher she climbed, the more fierce the unceasing wind became, her hair and clothes whipping in a frenzy. But still she climbed, driven by the scent of blood and the erratic beat of the human’s heart.

She crawled deftly towards the child as the moonlight fell on her leering face, watching the fragile think back further against the tree. Asa took in the petrified figure, reveling in the awe mixed in with the terror in the girl’s glance. This was the best part. The rapid heartbeat grew louder in her ears, the human so close that the smell of her fear enveloped the air around her. Reaching out a pale hand, Asa’s slender fingers closed around the girl’s chin, her eyes boring into the watery green eyes of her pray. “Stay,” she commanded, her words laced with glamour. The human obeyed, growing rigid and unmoving. “Good girl.”

Asa stroked the girl’s cheek, chuckling at the weak creature’s unfocused eyes. What a pathetic little thing. She tightened her grip on it’s chin, feeling a bone crack under her fingers. But still Asa’s prey remained unmoving, deep under the elder’s spell.  “See how fragile you are beneath my fingers, human?”

She peered down the trunk of the tree, for the first time remembering this would be a shared meal. “Hurry up, youngling! I don’t know how much longer I can wait! Her blood smells absolutely divine.” Asa fingers trailed down the girl’s shoulder and arm, hovering over it’s fragile fingers.

Read More

 Michael, wild-eyed and starving, loomed forward into the darkness beneath the trees. He had watched the Elder Vampire take off and assumed with mild interest that she would undoubtedly catch their kill. He needn’t worry, but still something caused him to puff his chest and take the form of this lust-filled predator. As colors flickered through his irises, watching up into the swaying branches that housed the innocent flesh of his meal, he longed for the blood. Longed to see the terrified look of their spoil staring right through him. Longed to feel their divine red liquid fill his mouth and roll down the back of his throat. He hadn’t felt like a killer in centuries, and he had to admit that something about it now was as alluring and addictive just as it had been then.

 “Hurry up, youngling! I don’t know how much longer I can wait! Her blood smells absolutely divine.”

 Without hesitation, Michael jumped into the tree, latching onto it with his fingernails like the skillful hunters that roamed free in the jungles. He climbed upward, the muscles of his back constricting and releasing as he reached up and got higher. Almost impressed by how far the mortal had gone to escape them, he looked up to the Ancient and took a moment to soak in his awe before finishing his climb. He jumped carefully, gracefully, from branch to branch before perching beside the Elder.

 He watched quietly as the crushing of bones felt like explosions in his ears. Explosions that drew him in like a moth to a flame. And, oh, wasn’t he playing with fire? Centuries since Michael had killed and enjoyed the taking of an innocent life, he had always felt the need to honor his kills. They were living, with feelings and emotions, family and friends who would miss them — and he had respected them for it. But, tonight — under the weight of his hunger and the lack of Mother Moon — a sick and disturbed smirk contorted up his cheeks. It spread like a cancer, maniacal as it formed. He took in a deep breath and pressed on, carefully edging forward beside the woman who took an obvious amusement in tormenting the spelled mortal.

 Michael licked his lips, watching her break bones and play with her meal. A part of him, lost somewhere deep within his subconscious, cringed at the sight. At the careless pleasure they took in taunting the Human with their power, their might. 

 He pulled at the mortal’s other arm, smelling at their dirty little fingers to take in the sweet, sugary scent of their blood that pulsed just beneath it. His kin had been correct, it smelled heavenly. Mannerly, he watched with his incisors hovering just above the delicate, tissue like skin for his Elder to have the first bite.

 ”Please,” he begged. 

asa-ibsen:

“Michael.” Asa tested the name out, the faint hint of a accent from a language long since forgotten laced in her speech.”Well, Michael, you just tried to steal my kill.” she growled, her eyes glinting with malice. She sunk her nails into his neck, blood beading up where her nails pierced his skin. “I don’t like when people touch my things.”

Asa bared her teeth at the fallen vampire, preparing to sink her fangs into his neck and claim his blood as a substitute for the blood he had stolen from her. But as she looked down at Michael laying unmoving beneath her, her brow furrowed. She could smell no fear coming from the vampire. And his passive expression showed little of any emotion at all. It threw Asa off. After years of having people cower at her strength there was something unnerving about anyone who could stare at their own death without betraying emotion. It seemed a shame to kill a fellow vampire that could impress the Asa, as so few had in the recent years. But the ancient vampire’s hunger still gnawed at her, her throat feeling parched and raw.

Asa rolled off of him, already doubting her choice to let him live. Clambering to her feet, she offered a reluctant hand down to Michael. “Well, come on then. I suppose we’ve got a meal to catch,” she grumbled.

 Her nails felt like jagged glass as they sunk into his ashen skin. He could feel the blood surface, and it’s cold impression on his neck made goosed flesh rise. As the primitive creature sank lower against him, her words spat out in disgust. A brush of her saliva raining along his neck and jawline. Michael knew the ease in which she could take his life, but he was void of feeling. Void of any emotion other than hunger. Severe, immeasurable hunger. As if his sunken cheeks and clear view of his bones weren’t a dead give away in itself to this. The sheer lack of pity and altogether compassion from this woman was agitating, confusing even. It had been a long, long time since Michael had faced such an uncaring kindred. A long, long time. 

“I don’t like when people touch my things.”

 He stared up at her with passive eyes that gave no leeway into what he felt. As her fangs drew closer to his skin, he laid unaffected. He gave her nothing, certainly not the satisfaction of him being frightened before death. He had more honor than that, at least. 

 But then, she recoiled. He watched her brow furrow and her expression look… amused? And, even more curious, she pulled away. She rolled off of him and instantly Michael sat up. Why spare him? With being inches from death, why? He was in her grasp, and ready for his true death — and yet she spared him? Of course, surprise and almost relief turned into sorrow through Michael’s tormented and disturbed head. Perhaps he just wasn’t good enough to eat.

 The woman’s hand reached down to him, and gracefully he took it. 

“Well, come on then. I suppose we’ve got a meal to catch.”

 Before he could protest, the feline moves of this primal goddess moved with ease and a quickness Michael hadn’t seen in centuries. She outmatched him in age, there was no doubt — and now, she would outmatch him in her speed. The Elder took off, trailing some paces behind her. Wherever this mortal had gone, it had surely run off and hid somewhere. 

 He stopped in mid-run and smelled at the night’s air. His sensory overwhelmed by the lush scent of nature out in this farmland. “It’s in the trees!” He announced, hopeful that it was loud enough for the huntress to hear. Michael took his opportunity to stalk the canopies that surrounded the otherwise flat plains. He could smell them, somewhere just at the outskirts. Hiding in the thick brush…

calvin-sorrevillo-athorian:

Calvin had sneaked out of the manor a few days ago to meet with Asa again. They met up at least once a month, at different places every time. It would not do for anyone from De la Nuit to find out about his true alliance. Though he hadn’t planned to and he was not supposed to, Calvin had made friends among those in the rival clan. This time around… Calvin was told that it was nearly time for him to leave. He wasn’t quite sure how to take that news. He had become so accustomed to this routine. He had learned to develop a true mental shield and had taken to not wearing the amulet Asa had given him a few days before he’d approached Collette and her two knights. The one he hadn’t been able to read had left only a couple years after Calvin had joined the society… But the other, who he had learned was named Michael.

There were times that Calvin looked up to the older male vampire. He was so close to the Queen, to Collette. And Calvin wished he could have that connection to her. But as of late it seemed that the pair were drifting apart. It had taken Calvin quite some time to work his way into Michael’s trust, but it hadn’t been too long after that that he had gotten to Collette herself. That was probably why Asa wanted him to leave. He had gotten the information she wanted, though he wasn’t sure exactly what information that was.

That evening he woke up alone, as he always did, in his room not far from Collette’s chambers where Michael tended to stay. He was tempted to drop by there to see if he could get Michael to come out with him, maybe spar some, but he had a feeling that his friend wouldn’t be there. After he got up from his bed, he rarely slept in the coffin, Calvin got dressed and headed out of the Manor. He didn’t like spending too much time inside when he was there. Collette’s gardens were extensive and beautiful. He had a feeling that Michael would be there. Most of the members spent their free time there if they had it.

He passed through the back doors of the Manor just time to hear Michael’s sigh and he moved over to his friend, placing his hand on his shoulder. “What weighs on you tonight my friend?” he asked gently. “I have noticed something different with you as of late… Would you like to talk?” he continued, letting a bit of his concern show through his voice.

 Michael turned at the sound of Calvin’s voice and nodded out of habit to him. The comfort of his beloved friend’s hand was welcomed, yet it gave the Elder no real solace. How could it? His troubles were far more than anyone could imagine — with his emotions being pulled every which way. Surely Calvin could feel that? Surely he could sense those varying emotions in his ally, his best friend. If there were anyone in the world that Michael shared a bond with, it was this younger Vampire. They were kindred spirits, though the two differed greatly. Michael’s decision was a clear sign of that. 

 As he thought, Calvin had noticed noticed the difference in him. The confusion all those feelings were conveying through his presence on it’s own. Michael’s mouth opened to say something, but he frowned now. The freedom he felt only a moment ago now seemed dull and unexciting. What would it really be like to control himself? To live without the schedules and the demand for perfection? What would it be without his best friend beside him? The Elder’s face fell and he nodded again. Yes, something was troubling all right. 

 ”Calvin,” he hesitating, scared almost for what might become of their friendship, “I’m not staying in De La Nuit.” And, there it was — the words hanging in the air as Michael’s eyes met Cal’s. “I can’t be here anymore, and you know why I’m sure. With Annora, my feelings about staying here are a mess. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”  Another sigh pressed out from his lips as he paced beside the male. “I want to leave, I think it’s what would be best, but I’m scared. You know? I’m worried.” 

asa-ibsen:

With the smell of her impending kill under her nose and her harsh breathing and the roar of the wind in her ears, Asa did not sense the new vampire until he sprang from the foliage and tackled her meal. A feral growl ripped past her lips as she watched the male vampire wrestle with the girl . As Asa broke into a run she watched the intruder lose hold of the human, kicking up dust from the road in pursuit. “Idiot,” she growled, her legs a blur as she sped up in pursuit of the offender.

She ran against the wind, her clothing plastered to her body and her hair trailing out behind her. The rage that consumed her as she zeroed in on the shirtless vampire gripped her entire body, willing her feet to guide her through the moonless night. Her hands curled into talon-like claws, imaging they were sinking into the soft skin of the enemy vampire’s neck. She began to close the distance between her and her new target, her eyes glued on Michael’s rippling back muscles. Even in her rage she could not help but admire the prowess of the thief, surprised by the amount of effort she had to exert to catch up with him. But in time her age triumphed over his might, and she leaped forward and tackled him, her old target a distant thought as she glowered down at him. 

Asa raised her clawed hand in the air and hovered it threateningly above Michael’s face, her free hand holding him down by his neck. “Who are you?” she hissed, her face contorted with rage. She angrily brought her hand down, her long talons swiping the side of his face and leaving bloody red lines across his cheek. “Answer me!” 

Awkwardly, the wind pulled through Michael’s dark hair as he sprinted forward for his meal. Even in the darkness, his eyes flickered as though reflecting off a bouncing source. He raced through the clearing, almost losing his prey in his frantic state — a prime example of the otherwise experienced Hunter’s headspace. Again, his stomach groaned, and it sent a sharp pain up through his spine, straight to his head. It slowed the wild being down, wincing as he shook his head for relief. But, then something grabbed him from behind and tossed him forward. Michael’s body hit the ground hard, cracking small twigs underneath him with a loud CRACK! His skin ripped open as he continued to skid for another foot or two, making the Vampire howl from the frigid, sudden pain.

Immediately, he went to sit up and figure out what had attacked him, but he was too slow. A rather lanky figure pounced on him. Spit sprayed against his face as the creature pulled back their hands — or claws? — and hissed at him with immeasurable anger. 

“Who are you?”

It was simple enough, but Michael couldn’t form the words to reply. The figure scratched at his face, and it was then that the whiff of an ancient immortal found it’s way through his nose. The scent was similar to Chandra, though possibly by a thousand or so years off. Michael growled back, a surprisingly primal instinct to rip the shadow off of him and continue for his meal kicking in. He felt regret almost instantly, but in his state he had almost forgotten he knew what manners between his kind were. 

He forced his fangs away as the deep, jagged valleys in his cheek healed. Michael stared up through the darkness to make out a woman’s face — a feral, untamed beauty stared back.

“I… I’m Michael.” His voice stayed stern as he waited, half expecting this woman to murder him. Though, he showed no signs of being prepared to prevent such a thing, if she were so inclined. No, there was something odd, familiar about this creature of the night. Something about her eyes, and the unashamed way her clothes seemed to slip against her skin…

“Why did you stop me?” His voice fell into a soft tone, as the two looked over one another. His stomach groaned again.

bradin-perkins:

Michael knew how to make an appearance, and even though Thirst had expected his arrival that night it was enlightening to see the reaction when the tall man made his presence in his establishment. It made Bradin grin, hands clapping together in unison with the other men and few woman as he made his way amongst the room. 

Bradin leaned back against the bar propping his elbows on the wood surface and crossed a leg over the other. The atmosphere in Thirst never ceased to amaze him, even on the taverns slower nights the place always seemed like a safe place away from burdons, somewhere he could go at any time and know that Iris would be around to cheer him up if not Michael himself. 

The drinking continued, mugs of ale splashed against one another and messied the floor. Laughter emitted from the lips of tipsy townspeople and dancing pursued. It was indeed a little celebration in its own, and Bradin laughed to himself at the thought of people being so genuinely enthralled that a vampire had come home from his journey.

Bradin assumed that not all in Night Haven knew of Michael’s specie, but that most of his regulars did indeed. In a way Bradin had to simply accept that fact, as Thirst was the only tavern in Night Haven and where would the human be without his almost nightly need for the liquid. Supernaturals were not his favorite things to discuss let alone be acquaintances with, yet Bradin learned to pretend that it did not bother him as much as it did, especially when it came to Michael. 

If he was being honest with himself, Michael scared him more than most other vampires he unfortunately knew. At least, Bradin imagined Michael was absolutely terrifying if he lost the grin he usually wore around Thirst. Bradin did not want to find out.

“How am I? Great. Fantastic. Alive,” Bradin’s fingers grazed the bar as Michael took his place next to the mortal, his words about his overall well being sarcastic as always. “Nothing in comparison to how you are, I imagine. I’ve never been to England, I’m sure it was interesting. Different, I assume? Emery must have been like a child, being able to venture out like that,”

 Michael leaned back, offering Bradin a quick smirk. Bashfully almost, he chuckled again at his hands at the mention of England and Emery all in one sentence. Admittedly, Michael would have loved to relive that experience over and over in his head. Admittedly still, he would have adored to have stayed. But, he had a life to live — if what he had was something to call “a life”. The Vampire nodded before speaking. A quick wander through his head to pick his words wisely in front of such lively company, and he couldn’t help but soften his voice.

 ”Aye, he was. It was a beautiful sight to see his face light up around all those unfamiliar people.” Michael gestured to Iris swiftly, noticing Bradin’s diminishing drink. With haste, the young maiden refilled it and turned back to her work as if to offer them some illusion of privacy. “England is different, very much so. Athoria has… baggage, you know? It weighs on you. Being in a whole other area where people only know you from all the good your family has done for them… It was nice, it really was.” The memories were haunting with how they played passed his mind. Chandra, dressed in odd Indian garb, and with the face of such an angel — his mother, if he could ever find it in himself to call her that. Her presence stayed with him, as well as her words, all the way back into Athoria. 

 ”Was interesting. So! What have you been up to, hm? I see a lot more tattoos on these drunkards than I remember!” 

 It was colder out than it had been in years, and Michael was one of the first to notice it as he stepped out from De La Nuit and into it’s garden. With recent events, he knew the day was coming when he had to leave this place. With prospect of becoming a King to Athoria’s Vampires, and his heart quickly getting more entangled with another woman’s, his days were numbered here. He didn’t want this life, and he had only wished he knew it earlier before he’d gotten himself into this mess. Before he ever helped Collette build this place, before he had even considered it with her. 

 Michael closed his eyes as his arm reached out and allowed his fingertips to brush along rose petals. He thought about what his life would be when he left, thought about what kind of Vampire he would turn into when on his own again. Here, in De La Nuit, there was structure, but out there? Out there the world could eat you alive. He reminisced over Babanel and the impact the Maker’s absence had on him. How without the structure, everything seemed to just fall apart. He wandered if history would repeat itself. But, at the same time a small smile slowly ripped along his face. 

 Freedom. 

 Was freedom not something to be treasured and excited for? Free from a monarchy he didn’t want to be apart of, from the rules and guidelines he had to abide by. Freedom from being second to a woman he was falling out of love with, who turned more and more pompous with each passing day. Freedom — it made him smile. He could choose his path, finally. He could find his own way and come out from under everyone’s shadow that he had clung to so tightly; Babanel, Collette… He could be his own man, for once. As scary as it seemed, he would have a chance to bring the utmost honor to his bloodline all on his own. 

 Shamelessly, the Vampire opened his eyes and grinned as he plucked the head of a rose from it’s stem. Bringing it to his nostrils, he inhaled the merry scent. How many other flowers would he be able to smell when he stepped away from De La Nuit? How many other beautiful scents would he get to smell when able to roam free? A soft, almost relieved sigh fell from his pale lips. The possibilities were endless, and Michael only wished he could share his bliss with someone he had known longer than Annora alone.  

asa-ibsen:

Asa waded through the tall grass, the wind wiping her hair in a frenzy around her cheeks. The wind blew through her thin cotton shift and men’s pantaloons, clinging to the slight curves of her body. But the cold draft fell against her uselessly, no colder than the the temperature of her own body. Turning her nose to the sky, she took a sharp turn to the left as she caught her target’s scent in the cool night air, a slow smile spreading across her wind-burned lips and exposing her fully extended fangs.  Asa predatorily slunk forward, the wind covering the sounds of her steps. New energy shot through her as a strong gust of wind crashed against the elderly vampire, enveloping her nostrils in the prey’s scent . And as Asa leaped into a crouch and propelling herself forward with inhuman speed, her eyes fixed ahead and narrowed as they fell on their target.

Her pace quickened, the scent under her nose driving her to the ends of her sanity as she crashed through the grass, no longer caring if she could be heard as she ripped her way through the field. With her chest heaving, she crashed through the greenery and onto the worn dust road, her target a mere dot miles down the road. She stood and allowed herself a dark chuckle as she closed the distance between herself and the human in long strides. Even as the wind blew up her shirt, exposing the naked skin beneath, she walked unapologetically into the gust with her teeth bared in anticipation.

 The Moon was gone, and Michael took it as a personal damnation brought about by how twisted and muddled up his innards were becoming. He hadn’t eaten since the night of leaving Wisteria, and of course this was leaving him somewhat sickly looking. His bones were more prominent now; and the longer he went without a single vessel to drink from, the more his thoughts went wild into a darkness it hadn’t dared wander down into for hundreds of years. From the lack of blood, his eyes looked heavier and gave a sinister touch to an already intimidating figure. On purpose, he was hurting himself. Punishing his own body and denying it the only thing it needed to continue on. It wasn’t as simple as wanting to die, but more that the Elder wanted to harm himself worse off than he was doing to the others around him. 

 The wind whipped at him unmercifully, flying around his body as if it wanted to lift the Vampire right off the ground. It had just started to turn cold in Athoria, though like with most of his specie, it went almost unnoticed. Being as cold as winter to the touch, it felt decent enough to not suffer knowing how out of place you truly were with Mother Nature. During the warmer seasons, it was always a reminder to their kind their difference in this world, as if being isolated to darkness and surviving off blood weren’t enough. The warmer seasons — something else to remind him how different Wisteria and he were. Are.

 He pressed on through the darkness, through the trees of Hallowed Oaks. Wandering through the dense forest as though he were lost and hadn’t actually explored this area countless times. As if he didn’t know exactly what he might find through here. But, he wasn’t lost. He was hungry, and in this small stretch of land, he knew the reputation this area held for easy pickings. He cared nothing about the rumors he could no longer remember in his corrupted, starving daze. He cared nothing for what danger he might run into in these cursed parts. All he could smell was blood; lame and ready for killing. It was something he knew wouldn’t put up much of a fight just be it’s smell. 

 With long strides, the shirtless creature lurked forwards and quickened his pace. The smell was moving, and the more it was just out of his reach, the more his fangs began to hurt. They pressed against his gums with eagerness. Michael breezed passed the trees, allowing them to steadily turn into a blurred background as his tunnel vision guided the way towards his prey. His stomach twisted and gargled at him, pleading to be filled. 

 The trees broke into a clearing, and he stopped just at the line of it, daring not to cross. Opposite of him stood this chattering figure who’s body hummed with fright. A surely odd sight to see such a lone being vibrating with fear. But, there was no time to reason out what had this poor, pathetic soul so shaken — he had to feed. 

 The Elder sprung from the trees and ran with a ferocity he had almost forgotten he had. He lunged forward, grabbing the paralyzed figure and tossing it to the ground with him. Michael scrambled to get a good grip on the poor soul, but instead it wriggled right from under him, and scurried to it’s feet before he had a chance to regain himself. It took off, probably more frightened now than it had been before. His fangs extended, driving him to go after it. It would be an easy kill if he could just focus. But alas, his mind was doing curious things as of late. It was becoming more and more impossible to figure out the clear line of good and bad, right and wrong. And thinking about it preoccupied so much of him now that it clouded over anything else. Everything else. A constant urge to question himself arose, and all Michael wanted to do was find some kind of stability — some form of even ground.

 Perhaps if I could just catch this one… 

 He took off after the Wight, and didn’t notice the venomous eyes of the hunter he had stolen from piercing into him.

wisteria-scoher:

She raised her eyes to meet his, pain echoing in them. Disbelief mastered her body. “A-a…Stain? That’s what you call it?” Her hands laid in her lap, her fingernails digging into her own skin. She didn’t even realise she was doing it. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes blinked rapidly. “I thought you’d understand…I thought you’d know better than to judge someone by his or her nature. It couldn’t help being born. Just as you couldn’t help being turned. Just as I couldn’t help having Fae blood.”

Wisteria didn’t want to speak of this, not really. What was the point? Words only distanced the two of them even more. They’d built a bridge they couldn’t cross. How odd that they’d gone from happy to this in so little time. Was that it? A few kisses? A few touches? Her having given herself to him twice? Was that the amount of happiness they could feel before they ruined it? There had been a time when she’d laid awake at night and had prayed for this chance to be with him. When there had been others keeping them apart. Never would she have thought things would turn out like this.

Then again, hadn’t she promised herself she’d never fall into Love’s trap? Once upon a time, she’d avoided it at all costs. Vow after vow she’d broken. For him. Because he, with his gentleness, sensitivity and kindness when he should be anything but according to his species, had come into her life. Just like that, she’d abandoned everything and had clung to him. Because her life had been bland, tasteless. Wisteria just hadn’t realised it. He’d opened her eyes. 

She tried to find words to speak, tried to make sense, but the inner turmoil of her mind just went on and on. It was odd, how she both felt pain and didn’t. The pain was only a shadow, like dreams were shadow images of reality. It didn’t completely register. 

“I don’t know what to do…Don’t know what to feel.” Her eyes went to her hands as her fingernails marked her skin. Wisteria still didn’t feel it. She was a ghost. Michael had committed two murders this night. Hers too.

“I’m dead. You killed me.” She whispered, to herself, a frown on her face. There was disbelief in her voice, almost wonder. He’d murdered her. Killed her faith, her mind, her trust in everything and her sanity. Just like that. Like cutting a thread. And she’d helped him do it, by loving him. In a way, she’d killed herself.

 Like a scolded child, Michael cringed away from her words. They stung his heart — the part of his mortal soul he had been able to hang onto since being turned. Wisteria, the brightest star in his sky, the angel on his shoulder. He had killed her. Like the unholy beast he had tried to rise above, Michael had ruined everything in her life, taken everything from her. He had, all on his own, destroyed every ounce of good the two shared between them. Every ounce of good in himself. The shame swept over his body and he did not deny it’s entry to overwhelm him. He had murdered two innocent people tonight, and left himself to bare that burden for eternity. He deserved as much.

 Wisteria would never understand, and he was foolish to ever take her away from her normal life (as mundane as it seemed) and weave a tale of how much better he could enrich it. He had stolen her innocence, just like he’d done with everyone around him. Every poor soul that came in contact with him ended up much the same way. It were as though he was cursed, to continuously be the destroyer of anything good in others. Perpetually this anchor for each and every person that dared to know him. Keeping them down, perhaps, so he didn’t have to endure this cruelty alone. The cruelty that came with being forced into the life of a Beast.

 He backed away, without another word. What was left to say between them? Any sorry that he might be able to utter would fall against Wisteria’s deafened ears. She didn’t deserve the bare minimum of effort it took to apologize for being him. All he could do was walk out of her life now, and leave her to go on and become much more than what had became of their life together.  

 The Elder turned on his heel, head hanging low. 

 He made it to the front door and leaned in it’s frame after pulling it open. Mother Moon pooled into the room, welcoming her undead mistake into the night. 

 Don’t look back, he tried to tell himself. Don’t look back, Michael. Keep going.

 One foot in front of the other, he walked away from the only happiness he had truly ever had. The only form of stability his life ever really had. With one foot in front of the other, and his chest heaving as it clenched tight to keep him from collapsing to the ground, Michael forced himself to walk away from the wreckage he had created. As good as he was with walking away from all the mistakes he’s made, he found it hardest to walk away from this one — but he had to. If he loved her, and he did, he had to.

 Making it down the road, he took off into a sprint for the beginning of Hallowed Oaks. Emerging into the thick brush, he leaned behind a tree and howled as tears burst from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. His hands balled into fists and he banged them into the ground, having slipped down the tree’s trunk. Sitting there in his defeat, he let himself feel the pain that he had made, and rightly deserved every bit of it. “Why?!” He shouted, looking up to the moon that peaked between the branches above him. His life seemed like a cruel joke that Mother Moon used to punish others. He no longer felt her blessing. Thick, red tears trailed down his cheeks and left light pink stains behind.

 After a few moments, Michael managed to stand on his feet and find some sort of strength still left in him to leave Brailston. He had to go on, without her.

 This was their ending. 

wisteria-scoher:

And just like that, her world fell apart into ruin. Just for a little while, all stopped. She didn’t feel, nor say anything, nor cry. She just closed her eyes, refusing to open them and look at him. The truth was out, the words had been spoken and there was nothing she could do about it. 

”I killed it.”

“You killed her. Her.” Wisteria stated, her eyes still closed. Every breath she took seemed to be one too many, it ached. Rosalie was taking no more breaths anymore. And for the first time, she couldn’t deny the fact that the man she loved was a murderer. Oh, she’d been so good at closing her eyes, hadn’t she been? Such a fine actress, so delusional. Feeding naive dreams to her mind instead of reality. This time there wasn’t anything standing between them, no progeny and no revenge mission. They themselves were the obstacle. They always had been. They were so different, in just about everything. 

Normally, when she had doubts like this, Wisteria only need look into Michael’s eyes and find something there, something that reassured her. She couldn’t explain what it was, but she’d always been able to see him. Really see him beyond the vampire and his instincts. See the soul. See his past, present and future. A future she’d been so sure of she’d take part in.

Perhaps that was what she needed to do, look into his eyes and find that what she was looking for. 

Winny opened her eyes, and brown tried to meet his green. His gaze was not on her. She tried, she really did try, but her numbness, her pain and shock, prevented her from finding anything. There was just a bleak emptiness as wide as the ocean. 

“It never hurt you. You had no reason to kill it. You didn’t need the feeding. Why? Please, tell me why?”

She shook her head slowly, a haze in her mind, heavy and thick. Painful. “I thought you were tired of unnecessary death, like I am.” Had she completely and utterly misunderstood everything? Had she really been that naive, to think all would work out in the end? 

He didn’t even look at her. As if she was not worthy of his gaze. Maybe she wasn’t anymore. Wisteria knew that, despite it all, she wouldn’t be able to stop loving him. What did that make her? A fool? 

“Michael, look at me. Look. At. Me.”

 He didn’t want to. He really didn’t. He didn’t want to believe that they were never going to make it out there, in this cold world they spun on together. He didn’t want to feel as distant and distressed as he did now in that moment, as he stood there in his lover’s home. Those walls that surrounded him felt strange now, lost of the comfort they once brought to him. The smell he had always cherished, even on his long journeys away from her, felt foreign as it brushed against his nostrils. Even she felt different — her presence alone now something Michael wanted to run from, to escape the failure again. But, he didn’t run. He was frozen to the floor, paralyzed by her words. 

 She called it a her. He had almost forgotten it had a name, let alone a gender. That was the glaringly obvious difference between them, was it not? And, wouldn’t it always be? He was a boogeyman, and she was… She was… 

 Dark strands of slightly curled hair fell in front of his face, sheltering most of it from plain sight. He could hardly stand there, as each second that went by his long legs wanted to give out from under him. All he wanted to do now was collapse and forget it all. Have the ground open him up and swallow him whole. But, again, all he could do was breathe. Breathe.

 “Michael, look at me. Look. At. Me.”

 Did she really want his eyes on her? Could she withstand looking at the man she loves, and live with herself knowing he’s able to kill a child? Could he withstand looking at her and knowing the valley he has created between them now? They seemed on two separate plains of existence altogether, with no way of ever being able to creating a bridge to get to the other. 

 It felt as hopeless as he looked, even from behind. 

 ”I’ll die if I look at you…” His voice shook, and tears welled up into his eyes. He imagined himself running out of there, and never looking back. He imagined himself freeing her of the burden and drain their life together was becoming because of their differences. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed the tears back.

 Slowly, he turned and lifted his head to look at her. And, he was right. It killed him to see her like this. The bruises, the echoing sadness that reflected her insides; the room filled with the scent of her disappointment. It was inescapable, indescribable. When he imagined their life together, it was nothing like this. When he had pleaded her to be his, this was not what he had promised her it would be. They were supposed to lead a reasonably normal life together, shelter each other from all the death around them. He was going to make sure she had everything she needed. As he looked at her, he knew, in that very moment, their life would never be normal. And, he would never be able to give her what she needed. It killed him, and something inside of him broke that night — he swears it to this very day.

 Biting at his lip, he took a moment before speaking. The truth was, Michael was a monster, and she had overlooked that for whatever reason. It wasn’t fair to be her anchor, keeping her from progressing and living the life she deserved. 

 ”It had to die, and it had to be done to protect everyone that thing would undoubtedly tarnish. It wasn’t a baby, Wisteria… It was an abomination to my people.” Michael knew she wouldn’t understand that. She simply would never be able to wrap her mortal head around the woe that baby would have brought wherever it went. “It was thrown into a fire, and we all need to move on from the stain it’s left behind on each of us.” His voice shook again, and he bit his lip to stop it. “I know you don’t get it…”

stephen-gatiss-freeman:

The stone carved fireplace held the remnants of a once thriving flame. Dying embers snapped and crackled against the brittle bits of twig and wood that glowed with a soft orange. A smokey aroma filled the air along with a bookish scent that came hand in hand with ones personal study. Stephen stood tall, keeping his shoulders back and chin up in order to compete in stature with the ridiculously tall gentleman as he glanced about the room. The vampire took to the shadows, as was the habit of such godless creatures, and watched with a smirk as the mortal wandered through the room with curious interest. The man walked up and down the length of the room, stopping every other step to run his long fingers down the intricately carved frames and tap his nail against the solid walls.

This seemingly odd behaviour lay not with any sort of appreciation of the arts, instead the hunter was searching for some sort of chasm or masked chamber which could have held an ambush. He took each step with caution, not allowing himself to trust the hospitable figure. A task easily accomplished. And after several more paces throughout the room, the hunter felt secure enough to take his seat across the table from his enemy. The two sat quietly for a moment, each silently judging the other. Dark eyes hardened by countless years of experience matched the sprightly and inquisitive light ones of the hunter.

The air was thick, palpable from the mute battle being fought between the two motionless foes until the eldest of the two spoke. Stephen listened carefully, attempting to determine if what this vampire had to say was of truth or simply shrouding more sinister motives. After being taught, trained, and conditioned to hate this species, the man found it admittedly difficult to keep an open mind. But the world that he lived in was changing rapidly, the ways of old no longer held the same force as they had in the past. It was time to push away their differences in an attempt to save their own.

“I am not a fool Mr. DePalmado, I understand that asking your kind to never feed is out of the question. Collette’s society requires her initiates to take the lives of my kind, and I am able to sympathize with this. It is a necessary part of how your kindred function, just like how you could not possibly expect me to forbid the killing of vampires from the mortals. It is a way of life and one that I am not willing to give up.”

Stephen steepled his fingers, propping his elbows up on the table while he thought. The vampire before him intended to lead his gang of degenerates into town and mercilessly slaughter countless innocent lives. The hunter only hoped that this heartless murdering fiend would have more compassion towards another species than that of his father.

“The problem here seems to be overkill. When the vampires slaughter through entire villages of my people without even bothering to feed, I cannot stand by and do nothing.”

As he spoke the words, Stephen saw the obvious similarities between what he had attributed to the murderous vampires and the actions of Richard Freeman. What his father had done was inexcusable, even Stephen could see this. He had become one of those which he claimed to hate more than anything else in the world. The death of his mother and youngest brother had torn the Freeman family apart. The cruel and abrupt death of a young child had set the path of unimaginable destruction that brought shame to the pit of the priests stomach. Realizing that he had become lost in his thoughts, Stephen cleared his throat and continued.

“This needless killing must stop, on both sides, and I am willing do what I must to ensure the safety of Athoria. I never expected you to trust me, not with you knowing who and what I am, but you are right. You need proof that I am in fact one to be trusted. Collateral. Fine, if it means the security of my people I will agree to your terms. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

 Michael lifted his heavy boots, while he allowed the Wight to speak, onto the table. Leaning backwards on the chair’s back legs, he took the opportunity to use the finely sharpened nail of his thumb to pick as his teeth. It showed the importance that this meeting held to him: little to none. It wasn’t his kind that needed to worry, for their power outmatched Freeman’s filthy species tenfold. What did it matter to him if these obnoxious little devils wanted to start a war they inevitably could not win? No, no — to get him to agree to anything this pompous fuck was spouting off with would need to favor his kindred immensely.

 ”Did you have anything particular in mind?”

 It felt like taking goods from a child with just how easy this was. Leaving the option to a blood thirsty monster was probably not in Freeman’s best interest, but Michael knew — as he stopped picking at his teeth — that the collateral would need to be something that helped them both in the long run to maintain their agreement. As he leaned forward, removing his feet from the table, he took a quick moment to ponder it. But, almost effortlessly, it came to him. A devilish smirk erupted on his face. 

 ”Your father.”

 Michael leaned back in his chair and lit up another smoke, the billowy fog blowing directly towards Freeman’s face. “I want your father dead, and after the deed is done you may consider our agreement intact. I believe it would do us both a great relief to have that man out of the way, wouldn’t you think?” The cocky Vampire’s head turned as he leaned further in his seat, sinking down in it a bit. “I want him, Freeman. You’ll see to it I get him, won’t you?” It was final. His mind would not be able to consider another offering, if the priest decided to be so bold. Michael tapped his finger against the edge of the fine crafted wooden table, and blew out another cloud of smoke. 

 He could see through the gray vapory atmosphere around them just how unsettled this made the poor Wight. But, that only made it more enjoyable for Michael to wait for him to agree. 

wisteria-scoher:

“He didn’t tell you?” Wisteria asked, her voice soft and monotone. Normally, she would’ve been so happy to see Michael’s face after all this time, to feel his touch again. And she was, but that contentment had been stored to the back of her mind. That numbness was far too strong, like she’d taken a sleeping medicine. Oh, wouldn’t that be heaven? To fall asleep. When she’d wake up, all of this would be a bad dream and she’d turn to see Michael lying next to her. She’d smile and kiss him, feel his cold skin…

But those were silly thoughts. She wouldn’t get out so easily. 

Wisteria frowned, her gaze still somewhere far away, where things actually still made sense. “You sort of smell like burned flesh. I could know, it’s the same scent of the Witches they burn on the market place. Why do you smell like that?”

Winny already knew the answer, yet she wanted to hear the words leave his lips. She wanted to know, even though it would pain her. She needed to know. Wisteria wasn’t as stupid as some gave her credit for. Besides, she knew Michael killed to feed, did she not? Why was this any different? He’d once told her she’d never understand his kind, and maybe she never would. Maybe she’d always be destined to wonder. To watch and not be able to wrap her mind around them. Around him.

“Emery came to collect the baby I found. Ava’s baby.”

The truth left her lips easily. She hardly even noticed she was speaking. 

“I tried to stop him. I didn’t want it to get hurt. So instead I got hurt.” She shrugged. “What was the point anyway? It’s probably dead. Everything I did was for nothing. Another one bites the dust. Life goes on…For some.”

 Michael’s hands shook and he pulled them away from her. His face turned stern, but bitter. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips curved downward as he looked back to the debris; and for a moment, he looked withered with age. All the hundreds of years seemed to catch up to him, and all he could do was let out a soft exhale and fall back onto the floor. The dull green of his eyes never left the rubble, as he sat there defeated. Utterly defeated. To imagine Emery harming Wisteria was not as far-fetched as he would prefer it to be, for Michael had seen the worst of that child countless times. But, now? It felt like a smack in the face. A dagger wedged into his back. Especially with all that was going on around them. It was something he just couldn’t stomach tonight. Just, not tonight.

 And, Wisteria? Her playing mother to his progeny’s child? How did she even obtain it? How did the mistake land in her lap, of all people? His head leaned back against a small wooden end table. All he could do was breathe and feel his hands shaking as they laid on his thigh. Staring at the crib, of what had been a home to that small and short life. Another frown tugged down on Michael’s pale lips, and he sighed a bit louder. 

 It was the first time since venturing away from the bonfire that he had felt an ounce of remorse for what they did out there, and what it seemed to symbolize: the end of the old. Enough was enough, and all of this hurt had to end one way or another. 

 His eyes moved to her small body as it curled in on itself; watching her as she wrapped her arms around her knees and tried to keep from crying. He looked at the small bruises that, by the second, speckled on her skin. Defeated. 

 For the first time, Michael couldn’t find it in him to be sympathetic for her. For the first time, he didn’t want to reach out and make her feel safe, protected. He looked at her as if she were a stranger — and wasn’t she just that? The two had their differences, and these differences were proving more and more just how little they would last. She was a Witch, and belonged to a whole other world where people didn’t kill innocent lives. And, what was he but a monster? 

 Without a word, Michael got up quietly and took a few steps away from her before he could find enough strength to speak. 

 ”I killed it.” His head hung as he looked away from her. As if looking at her would kill him. And, in some way, it would.  

 They were just too different to make their world’s collide.

wisteria-scoher:

For a long, long time, Wisteria couldn’t even muster the strength to stand up. Her body ached in different places because of the rough treatment and bruises would form, but she was okay. For now. She just remained the way Emery had left her, with her cheek against the cold floor, unseeing eyes staring at the wall. Her mind was a wild river, an inner turmoil of thoughts on which she tried to stay afloat when a part of her just wanted to drown. She had no idea of what would happen now. No clue as to what the future would bring.

Again a life lost she was supposed to protect. Again death and destruction and ruin. Her old foes. This didn’t stung like the death’s of her loved ones. It stung in a completely other way. Wisteria didn’t know Rosalie’s life had been innocent or not. She did not care. Against better judgement, she’d come to care for the little monster. Winny couldn’t even tell why. By all means, it didn’t make sense. Then again, hadn’t she projected her longing for something, something worth protecting, something to love onto the infant? The Witch hadn’t taken care of Rosalie for Rosalie, merely for what she represented. A fake image that would never have been able to be fulfilled.

But she’d tried so hard, so long. It just hadn’t been enough.

A voice called her name and immediately 3 emotions registered. The first and foremost being happiness, as she often felt when hearing his voice. Shame, because she knew her betrayal. Fear, because she didn’t know why he’d come.

She remembered Emery’s words. 

“Expect to be seeing Michael soon,”

Wisteria wanted to cry, but crying would require her leaving this almost shock-like state, and she wasn’t sure she was able to yet. She wanted to get up, go to Michael, kiss him and tell him how much she’d missed and longed for him. To play pretend and make it so that Rosalie had never existed. But if he was here, and if Emery had told him, his emotions probably wouldn’t quite be the same. The thought of his disappointment hurt probably even more than the loss of her…the little monster.

Wisteria realised she couldn’t stay on this floor. She sat up and twirled a piece of the broken crib between her thumb and index finger. “I’m here.” She said, her voice sounding distorted to her own ears.

 He had hoped to open the door to his beloved Companion, and fall into a bed of bliss with her held tight in his arms. He had hoped to spend the night talking, touching, re-exploring each other in ways they hadn’t yet. He had hoped to kiss her forehead goodnight, and feel her skin warm against his own cold flesh. All he wanted was to escape reality for a short while, with the only woman who knew how to bring him absolute contentment. But at the sound of her voice, he knew better.

Michael peaked over furniture to spy a battered and disheveled Wisteria sitting up amongst what seemed to be the left over rubble of a wooden structure. He quickly scrambled down to his knees in front of her — frantic as he surveyed the light bruises forming on her milky skin. Michael brushed back her hair and lifted her chin. “Wisteria, what happened?” A fury pulled the Vampire’s emotions every which way. He bit his lip as he sat back on his legs, simply staring at his empty-looking Companion’s bruising face. 

Again, the smell of the baby overwhelmed his nostrils, and Michael rubbed at his nose in a feeble attempt to make it stop. The burning aroma, however, seemed like a distant dream as opposed to how fresh this infant’s scent was exactly. Odd. 

The Elder reached out and rubbed gently at Wisteria’s knee. “What happened to you?” His eyes left her briefly, and it was then that he noticed the blankets and cloth messy and tangled in with the pile of debris. If not for having been with the bastard child himself, he would have swore it was giving off it’s scent, too. But, that was a foolish idea. Wisteria couldn’t have… It was impossible. The longer he looked, the more this pile of wood framed out into a proper crib, and the more Michael tried to convince himself otherwise. 

Please, no.