Beginning of the Masquerade(Private)

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[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

Bastian had never dreamed of the things he was experiencing now. Never once did he think he'd leave Germany... But all at once here he was in Russia... Which wasn't very glamorous, he was in the slums after all, but he was here! Oh he was here and it was grand. What made it better was the odd... Companion, he'd befriended in his early nights there. A younger man then himself, a charming man... One whom took strong steps to please him. Oh and how he gave to the boy, Dima.. Yes, he'd give him the world if he could buy it - He'd give him so many things if he'd just ask.

Though this night in particular was special, it was the night of the first mark of power between them both... So odd. He himself being so young... So new... And already he was marking a servant. Due to his age though - the experience drained him, so his steps where staggered as they left the Elysium, the Prince, and all his court behind. Bastian after all was a no named neonate of the time... A worthless Ventrue... Least to everyone else. " Dima." He said lightly and held out his hand. " Mein haustier, may I lean on you as we walk... I am tired and this night air is chill, ja?" Bastian's accent was thick and so very rich to the ears, some things couldn't be helped. So long as Dima understood, then he was pleased.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯

[Sears Nazi]

Дмитрий Иларий Александров

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽⊙☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Even in 1764 it was cold. . . very cold, but Russia tended to be that way - always tended to be that way; summer, winter, whatever. In fact, they had just lost one of the rulers, a German man - Peter III from Kiel, ah, but he was of simple mind and had to be . . dealt with. From this time, however, just a few years earlier there had been some . . serfdom reforms - and more change would be coming.

The current ruler was Catherine II and what a good ruler she was!. . . but ah; not for the lower class. They were all still dying, still didn't have any clothing to wear in these harsh winters. . still were being treated like slaves in spite of their new 'freedoms' (which weren't many) simply because they had no other options. It wasn't that they were content with it. . . There was just little else available to them. They continued their surf work - now they just got paid for it on some occasions. . . enough for one meal a day, if that, that was. They all still thanked the monarchy, though - thanked them for this supposed. . freedom.

What else was different. . . In the case of Dima, well, he had gotten out of the fairly new city of Saint Petersburg a few years before all that. Got to. . see the 'world'. He only got as far as Germany - it wasn't like it was too impressive, but as far as he knew Mother Russia was the world. . the fact that there wasn't only things beyond Russia, but that he could see these things was astonishing. His only wish was that it was under better circumstances. . Ah yes, when Mother Russia needed people to fight for her, she asked her Lords and Ladies very politely. And when those Lords and Ladies didn't want to risk their lives, they'd ask their young, able bodied serfs to respond to the call. . . and they didn't ask quite. . as. . nice. So he went - it wasn't like he had any other options. . . After all, he was a serf, . . who was the child of serfs. . who were the children of serfs. . so on and so forth. It wasn't until after he met Bastian that this. . somewhat changed.

Ah, yeah. Traveling was nice. He couldn't say the same for all the marching. . but he didn't complain much - he was used to much worse! . . Well, he could complain. . .if he wanted his full name called out - Dmitry, that was. . Unless there was another Dmitry, in which case Dmitry Ilariy would be used. . . As such he didn't much like to hear those two names together. Didn't much care for Dmitry alone - so he opted for Dima - the name his fellow surfs called them and one his superiors would. . hopefully never find out. Even his full name was better than Alexandrov, the closest thing he - and everyone else with a father named Alexander - had to a last name. And even that would be better than any children he'd ever have - their last names being Dimitrov. . . because this was the thought on every 16 year old boy's mind - what to name their children. Hell. If he really wanted to be nice he'd name his first born son Dmitry Dimitrov, because that would be the best thing to do - as far as embarrassing children went.

. . . Except he was 20 now, there were no little Dimitrovs - male or female - and didn't seem like there would be any . . . Further, in spite of being back in Russia for what he though might be for good. . . there was this little thing from Germany which kept following him around. No, no that wasn't right - it was a big thing. Bigger than him and . . definitely older. Dead. . er, and. . . significantly colder. .Not that it was a problem - it was probably the best thing he had discovered in Berlin . . Discovered in those travels and. . best yet. . . this German thing didn't call him Dmitry Ilariy.

In fact, this German thing - he had later learned it was called 'Bastian' - had played catalyst to many of the things that had changed. Nothing like changing who the monarchs were - oh, no, that'd be horrible - but. . . it was his fault Dima currently found himself wearing. . . a white. . fluffy. . cravat. Oh, he hated that thing alright. He was thankful for the fabric - that was scarce enough as it was around his neighbourhood but. . couldn't they have put it to use on something more. . .useful? Exactly how did that fluffy thing protect him from the cold? Further, if the wind blew it up to his face one. . more. . time. . .!

But it wasn't all bad. It was because of Bastian he had a coat to wear in the first place, pants without holes. . Hell, even a shirt to wear under the coat. So elegant, and nobody even got to see it ! But the nobles were eccentrics. . . Just as his friends would surely find him one if he walked down the street in . . . this outfit. In fact, they'd probably just rip it off him - bloody rogues. But ah, that's what made them charming. He just wished, if they did show themselves, they'd go for the cravat first.

. . But not Bastian's. He wouldn't let them touch Bastian or anything on him. Not his cravat, not even a strand of his. . oddly brightly coloured and clean hair. It almost reminded Dima of a the sun or. . of a fire. Unfortunately it. . wasn't as warm as either. Also unfortunately, his friends wanted to test the theory - exactly how hot was the hair. . ? Oh, if they tried to touch Bastian one more time, friends or not they'd wish they were slaves. Then they could be sold to live somewhere far, far away. . and besides. . he hadn't seen much of them recently. He'd been spending more nights awake and more mornings asleep. . . It was hard, missing the sun - being up during the coldest and darkest parts of the day. . but worth it, definitely worth it. That was one advantage to his being a shifter - he could tolerate the cold of the night a bit better than his friends could. . though the whole . . hanging out with a vampire thing was still a relatively new and . . odd. . experience. Still worth it. It wasn't like it was any more taboo or odd than his conversing - in a friendly manner, mind - with someone of the upper class. So the vampire thing. . a bit strange, initially scary, but . . not a problem as far as he could tell.

. . And it wouldn't be a problem. Not only was this pretty German thing - Bastian - a vampire. . he was also Dima's best friend. So. . maybe the free things helped put him in that position initially. . . save for cravats. . . . But now he found himself just wanting to be with Bastian, for Bastian. Ah, he tried to prove this with his actions, trying to please Bastian however he could. He'd even taken little trinkets from people to offer as gifts, knowing full well Bastian didn't need any of it. He just. . wanted to give things back. And he tried, ah, he tried very hard. And this particular night. . he thought he gave a great deal to Bastian - complete and utter trust. . with some thrown in naivety towards the whole thing. As long as it meant staying with Bastian for a bit longer it. . seemed like the right thing to do.

. . And apparently the next right thing. . his first job as Bastian's. . pet, was it? He was still a bit unsure of the German, knowing only enough to communicate very basically. . . Just what he had picked up in the past four years or so. . . was to support Bastian. Easy. "Mother Russia is always. . . chill." He said with a nod, trying to say it the same way Bastian had. "It is how she lets us know she is there." . . Made enough sense, anyway. It was only in Russia one could experience that kind of cold. . . ah, yes, she was just making her presence known in the way only she could. ". . . But you may, of course, lean on me. . "

Or he could just pull the vampire in closer to him. . .
. . And proceeded to do so.
. . .It was easier that way.
. . . . He was Russian and used to the cold, so it only made sense.
. . . . . Further, he was a shifter so he was warm!
. . . . . . That's why he did it, for Bastian's sake, not at all for himself.

Anyway. . .

He didn't like seeing Bastian like that, rather. . . weak looking. Using him as a support. . it almost didn't seem right in some ways. It made him wonder -- no, he'd ask, "Are you sure you did a good thing?" . . It had to be phrased that way. Oh, if Bastian could read his mind -- and he hoped he couldn't -- he'd know Dima was much too pleased, and. . more importantly proud of himself for being trusted enough for something like this. . to dare ask 'Do you think we did the right thing'. . .

But ah. He was poor his entire life he. . was allowed to be selfish this time, wasn't he?

[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

Bastian dressed and doted on Dima as if he was a Prince… As if he was some rare creature that needed the attention. Though when it came to the gifts Dima gave to him, well… Bastian would always smile and respectfully kiss the side of Dima’s neck. As he had done since the very night they had met… As he continued to do. Four years is a long time to know someone, and fate just happened to play in their favor. Bastian caught a little too late outside… Dima there and kind enough to hide him – A prince livid at the fact a shifter knew they where there… And yet, from what seemed to be his own end… Led to a new. He had a companion now, a friend. No, a best friend and a trusted companion. He wasn’t lonely with Dima, not as he had been for some years to pass now… This brought him so much joy.

But he took sick pleasure in dressing Dima in the latest fashion. He knew the boy would do it for his sake… But he knew he also hated some of it. Least he was warm in it… Least he was safe there at his side… With him at night. Bastian didn’t trust the lands they walked in, even if they where Dima’s home land. Already he had defended his companion – er… Which was hard, the vampires here spoke Russian after all, and not many knew his German words. Never the less, Dima’s honor had been guarded rather sharply by the Ventrue in the Russian court… He fought for the right to start the bonds with Dima.

And he won those rights… Oh he did. He smiled as Dima brought him to rest at his side, leaning on him. With a free hand he gently smoothed out the cravat with his ageless long fingers, near perfect nails denting the fabric while his crest ring caught the light – Perhaps the most valuable thing on his person, as had always been since the day they met. ” I think I do correct thing. Good thing, ja? Right… Thing. I do not regret my choosing in making you my servant und marking you with first mark of power.” He made a gentle x over the top part of the cravat. ”Und I will not regret continuing the path with you. I am just… Tired. I am a young kinder ja? Und it is much power to expel to do bond… But do not regret. No.” He smiled at Dima and walked with his aid – Though he still walked very proud even when he was so weak.

For the time, they lived in a small home there – Oh he made sure it had everything Dima would ever need… And if it didn’t all Dima needed to do was ask Bastian and he’d get whatever his heart demanded. He’d damn well say he was infatuated with Dima… Oh, he could, and often to himself he did. In his actions too. A kiss would linger, a unneeded breath taken to catch the other sent, doting… Yes. He was infatuated… Charmed… And he trusted the boy. ”Danke danke Dima, but as I said before mark… I will never treat you as something below me.” He kissed the boys neck, for now over the cravat but right below the ear. ”You… A treasure… Much like the treasures you give me, though greatest one has been company and joy.” So his speaking really was dreadful, that didn't make his words any less true… He just hoped Dima understood his point.

They stepped along the roads for a time, Bastian sharing Dima’s body heat, until the got to their little home. It was then Bastian moved away, reluctantly, and fished out the keys from his jacket pocket, unlocking the door and walking inside. ”Home sweet home, ja?” He shut and locked the door gently when Dima was in, putting the keys down and taking off his jacket to hang up… Then turning and doing the same to Dima. ”Danke danke Dima… This… Path.. Bond means much to me. I wish I could express how much joy you’ve given me because of it.” He took Dima’s hands and gave them kisses… That was the very odd thing about Bastian. He was very private as Dima had come to learn, he was a much softer man behind closed doors and away from on lookers – Though he had yet to see Bastian angry… Some how in four years Bastian had yet to become fully and truly angry. He smiled, letting the hands go.

Now… This was fun. Feeding was still a coy game he played with Dima. Leading and pulling away… Drawing it out, but he never made it cruel… He just made the other want it, need it in a way. It was such… Fun? No… Enjoyable was a better word for it. Slowly, as if dancing, he moved Dima until the boy’s back bumped into a vacant wall. Bastian smiled down at him, gently moving the hair from the boy’s face. ”What will ever do with you, hm?” Bastian’s hand worked it’s way out of Dima’s hair, letting it fall back into place slowly – While the other hand took hold of the cravat and gave it a gentle pull. This would have to go… but not as fast as Dima would like it too.

The hand pulling let go and moved around Dima’s neck, slowly pulling the cravat free of it’s ties, all the while Bastian’s body weight keeping both himself and the boy perched at the wall. ”Do you, perhaps feel we did good thing Dima? You can tell me you know… I trust you tell me true words.” He hid a smile in Dima’s hair, pausing in the untying just to twirl the fabric while he waited for a reply.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯

[Sears Nazi]

Дмитрий Иларий Александров

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽⊙☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Ah, the clothing. . It wasn't so much that he had a problem with the outfits - save for a few of his friends constantly asking about it - no, but with the accessories. What was the point in most of them? It seemed like such a waste of time to put on, all in the name of being proper. He could deal with the overly ornate details on the shirts; the frills, the ruffles. . even with the intricate designs on the jackets - though he found his fingers tracing these and picking at them more often than actually . . enjoying them. . But things like cravats? Ah, those were tools of fashion and fashion alone - unless, he supposed, you wanted to suffocate yourself. There may have been a mishap or two with those things. . . No need to tell Bastian about that. That was. . embarrassing.

Aside from the clothing, it was still a new and curious world he found himself in despite the surroundings being the same. Things were darker, that was a change - he tended to spend more time awake during the cold and dark hours - only because that was the only time he could be with Bastian. Past that. . . as far as the area itself was concerned, it was all quite monotonous. He had envisioned things looking differently perhaps at one point - lying back in the night; well, maybe not that - the ground was awfully cold; covered and completely saturated by snow. . . but just relaxing. Not having things to do. It didn't happen - there was always something to do. . Maybe not the same kind of things, but with a new situation came new tasks.

For a time, the night was as mysterious as Bastian's odd. . German ways were. Same streets, same town. . but different. In that sense, they were stuck having to figure it all out together. Not to mention the vampires. . . He was aware of them - aware the existed, but not aware that they were so nearby. There had always been something to be weary of - be it having your stuff stolen in the night by someone who believed them self to be more needy than you, well. . now there was that whole vampire problem. The rogues weren't cause for much concern - unwanted company, but he couldn't blame them as he had done similar things himself. Besides, he had been dealing with them for as long as he could remember - small brawls were inevitable . . and that is where being a shifter had its advantages. Now, the vampires -- . . . the same 'blessing' was a curse, in that respect. Especially since vampires, most of them anyway, tended not to be keen on him befriending one of their own-- foreign or not.

He didn't like it when Bastian had to fight them. . It didn't seem like it was Bastian's place. Surely their quarrel was not with him? He didn't like playing translator - fumbling about trying to find the proper German words for Bastian to understand. He didn't know the German words. . . Useless. Inept. And when one of them actually managed to land a hit on Bastian, well - that was another story all together. It was bad enough that Bastian was being dragged into this, as Dima saw it, but to mar him. . ? No - that wouldn't happen. Or. . he'd try to not allow it to happen. It was contrary to everything he was taught just a few years previous during those cold days where they marched to Berlin. . Protect yourself so you can protect the whole. That'd never work, not now. Playing shield, however. . well, he could take a hit or two - god damn better be able to at this point - and if it meant Bastian wouldn't be marred or. . . if it would give him time to plan something. . then it worked.

. . Though he was sure Bastian wasn't too fond of this strategy. So he'd just say he'd stay out of it - even promise on occasion. . . Oh, it was not his fault that he just so happened to be standing in the way at the, uh. . . wrong. . time. Well, as he reasoned - it wasn't that he was doing the wrong thing - he was doing whatever worked. But there was always a bit of moral ambiguity, especially among the people in his neighbourhood, Dima himself included.

. . Anyway, he was glad. Was that a selfish thought? Glad that someone cared enough to fight those battles. . . And, glad that he had mastered the skill of. . "being at the wrong place at the wrong time" in these battles. (Not that he would be too keen on what was to come later as far as that went.) Among the people in his neighbourhood - or, perhaps slum was a better word - there was definitely a sense of community. They functioned as a family - they had to. It was the only way for them to survive. Of course. . when food became scarce, it was up to the individual to find a way to survive. Your neighbours would help bury you, but that was about it. But with Bastian. . . with Bastian, and he realized this situation was impossible. . he'd sooner offer the food than keep it for himself. He imagined Bastian would do the same for him, too. Such a nice thought - reassuring, too.

. . . . And, this man who had done so much to protect him. . was currently leaning on him for support. As though prompted by Bastian's smile, Dima smiled as well - a smile of contentment. Of, in some ways, bliss. In this moment - this single, short insignificant moment - he was so happy about the whole thing that he almost failed to notice Bastian's hands nearing that dreadful cravat. It was the light caused by the ring which clued him into the whole thing. Such a pretty ring - such an expensive looking, pretty thing---- . . . . He'd never steal it. Perhaps the thought had crept up once, but. . . that already seemed as though it was ages ago. He looked at it - followed it to where the finger met the hand, up the hand and down the arm. . . Up to Bastian's face. He watched him speak - such curious and foreign words. No. . not foreign. He understood them. But, that wasn't the answer he thought he'd get.

He shut his eyes for a brief moment, just listening - trying to phase out everything else. . Especially the face speaking the words. Ah, anything that face said sounded wonderful, after all-- . . . But even with eyes shut, the words still sounded just. . lovely. Of course he couldn't see himself - and it was cold - but he could feel his face flushed out with a rosy pink colour---

"Good thing," he agreed. It took him a while to find the words - those simple words, and all he did was repeat the other's. "and I'm glad, you know?" Said in Russian - oh, he hoped Bastian could understand! But there was no time to slow it down, find the German words, fumbling over them all the while-- ah, he'd never admit to this either but he was feeling far too. . he almost shivered at the word (and the cold would have made a perfect scapegoat!)-- giddy. ”Yes, it was the right thing." Except. . now the words weren't coming to him, not even in Russian. Bastian made it so damned hard to think straight sometimes-- . . But he'd continue in German - slow, forced German while he tried to find the right words, using the language barrier as an excuse. He settled on something simple : "Thank you." What else was there to say? Bastian would make something of it . . as long as he got the basic idea, then. . .

He smiled again as Bastian continued with the answer, making the 'x' on the cravat. 'You're so close-- just take it off already. . ' is what Dima thought. He wouldn't touch it - Bastian seemed to think the cravat was a nice accessory and. . What was this, anyway? He would have ripped the damn thing off as soon as it was put on only a couple of years ago. Tsk. Dima glanced up - staring at nothing, really - just . . up. It was clear - smelled somewhat of mist. Crisp. Clean. He glanced around up there. . looking left and right. It seemed like there was nothing for miles - just air which would get colder and colder. . . "So," he started, still looking up - for some reason he couldn't bring himself to look at Bastian - perhaps somewhat afraid of what answers his face would give. He had switched back to Russian, part of him not wanting Bastian to know what he was talking about. ". . . There will be . . more nights like this, then?" Continuing. . . he. . he did like the sound of that. He didn't like that he couldn't help but to smile all the wider - even while looking up it'd be hard to hide a grin like that. . . Young kinder. Well, that was relative --- he almost laughed. But. . vampires were. . strange like that. A different idea of time all together - one he thought he'd never understand.

. . Same as these words. Oh, they made perfect sense. . . But, oh, the curiosity - those words aimed at him. It didn't matter how many times Bastian said them, or. . similar things to them. Every time it was like hearing them from a third person perspective-- . . . Hm. . . "I know, Bastian, I know. ." When he felt the vampire's lips touch his neck he reached up - it was reflex, remove the thing so close -- . . but he hesitated, and just ran his fingers through Bastian's hair. Just once - that was all he needed to do. Such fine hair. He was still smiling, but it had grown fainter as he thought more on these things - on Bastian's words. "You really think so? A treasure?" . . . Not that he really wanted Bastian to answer. He knew what Bastian would say, anyway - he just couldn't help but to vocalize the thought. "Company and joy.” This last bit he repeated in poor, broken German. He felt the same Bastian did - at least from what he could understand - but that was the only part of it he knew the words for. . . Then, he added with a reassuring nod - back in his native Russian, "I like it." Nothing more there needed to be said, either.

The house was. . . nice. Nicer than what he had grown up in, anyway. He figured it was the size of the house of some minor lord. . but he didn't know. He had never been near a lord's house. Any house - a place with a lock and key - was like a castle. Ah, this was no humble abode - as far as Dima was concerned it was a castle. . . and there were some things he didn't like about that. Just outside, a few miles away, were his friend's 'houses' -- many of them sharing one small area, smaller than his room was now. In a house. . with just the two of them, there was something. . cold about it. Something frightening, as though if he lost sight of Bastian for just a moment he might not be able to find him again. . . So when Bastian said 'sweet home' he . . opted to say nothing. He just watched Bastian, making sure he didn't leave the room without him--

. . .Mm. Kisses said a lot - that was something usually reserved for a lord as far as Dima knew. That was another curiosity -- or was that just how things worked in Germany? "It means a lot to me, too." He stated, his smile still somewhat faint. Ah, Bastian shouldn't be kissing his hands - "You don't need to do that, you really don't." Ah - he could feel the rose coloured flush coming on again. . How embarrassing. Hand still receiving kisses he turned his head to look off at the side, putting his free hand at the side of his face. What Bastian couldn't see he couldn't comment on~~

Until this little 'game' began. "Be nice," he said softly - now smiling coyly. Bastian was going to be seeing his face now after all, wasn't like there was much he could do to hide it so may as well play along. "You could start there~" . . . He joked, until Bastian's hands moved to the cravat, "Or you could. . take that thing off me and. . help me bury it under the floor~" This was more of a taunt than anything - although having that. . horrible thing removed would be just lovely. In fact, he could make his own game out of it - just thinking about it made the coy smile grow all the wider. "I know what you want," Oh, yes - fun game. Both of them could profit -- "so if you would be so kind as to finish taking that thing off of me you can--- . . . Oh. ." And again the smile faded - he was still smiling, still slightly blushing though the colour had started to blend into his skin a bit better. . . "I think we. . ." . . what words to use? . . " . . .we did a very good thing. . . and that is why . . we're here right now, like this," he glanced at Bastian, ". . . still friends and. . ." . . . What was the point? "If we had done something bad I don't think . . we'd trust each other enough to be in . . such a posi--" . . He paused. If he continued he'd probably start laughing-- . . . when he had recomposed himself he finished the sentence, "--in such a position! And so, as I was saying. . if you'd be so kind as to remove this white fluff of senseless strangulation. . . You can get one favour back. Your choice!" . . Another pause, then he quickly amended, ". . . You know, as a thank you. . for all of this."

[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

”Mm… Ja, greatest treasure I have managed to find in my eternity. I am not lonely und you are so kind… Mm. There will be so many more nights like tonight… If you choose to take all my marks, you may have every night of my eternity for yourself, for until the mother earth stops it’s spin und the stars fail to burn. What you wish, what you dream… All you ever need I will give und all I want is you as my companion.” Bastian had picked up enough Russian to get by… Enough to make out what Dima said to him, though often he didn’t get the correct meanings right away – Tonight he just happened to be lucky. Perhaps his own tired nature was playing well in his favor.

He didn’t like Dima getting into fights, getting hurt… No, he’d take on the ones he needed to. That was the one thing Dima had to learn – As it stood, he had no rights among vampires or their courts, he was a lowly servant in their eyes and a shifter to boot… So even if he spoke they would not hear them, even if he stood up they would not see… Bastian would defend his very honor though, just as Dima did for him against his ‘friends’. These friends Bastian did not touch, the one’s that had managed to strike him – and yet he managed to stay so calm for it… It was an odd and sour dance they wove… But somehow it worked… And somehow they always where there with each other again. Night after night.

Oh there was that smile! That blush… He could hear the rushing heart, the blood move to the face. These sounds never got old… Never, often he’d seek out the reaction just to hear it. Dima would often find himself just laying with Bastian for hours while the young kindred laid with his head to the boy’s chest… Just listening to the heart – It mesmerized him, captivated… He could simply stay there for hours until forced to move and even then he never wanted to. It’s why they shared a bed…Uh, mostly – Russia was cold after all and Bastian could take Dima’s heat, and if he was warm… and Dima kept getting warm, the bed was very toasty and nether of them where in fear of freezing to death or re-death.

But he also knew that Dima was use to living in far more humbled conditions… Sharing a room with many, being in view of many, it was another reason they shared a bed – The room was kept barred and dark, but it was their room, just as the house was theirs… Bastian always made sure Dima knew where he was, could see or could hear him just so he wouldn’t be afraid he’d lost the vampire. They both won this way… They where both happy this way, and by far he enjoyed Dima when he was happy – and… Well, often Dima would fall asleep before him, it gave Bastian time to breath, to take in that familiar smell shamelessly, to make silent promises against the breaking dawn’s air (Though he was sure Dima caught him muttering in German a few times over the years now).

Curious. ”Oh… But I do, ja? Kisses mean so much among the hands… The neck. You know they are respectful marks among my kindred..” The hand curled and slowly the cravat was pulled away from Dima’s neck, out of it’s hold in the clothes. ”We will not bury this… Just… Let it be useless for little while hm?” He gave a charming smile, though he rarely showed his fangs while doing so – and he hoped to prompt another smile from the boy, or more of that delightful blush. Such a wonderful color on those cheeks. He allowed the cravat to fall to the floor. ”Are I not always nice with you? Why would I want to harm you? Never you… Nein. I think I am most glad you are happy too.” The light played off his eyes, almost as if they where dancing. He shifted his own weight over Dima and the hand that once had the cravat was now gently removing the buttons from their home on Dima’s shirt. This perhaps was his favorite part… Aside from the rush of feeding… But the ‘undressing’ had a strange allure to it… a draw… And often he had to catch his mind from wondering a …Little…Too…Far.

Never the less an audible sound of pleasure left the vampire – not in such a perverse sense… But he was enjoying this, as he slid the hand past the shirt, once the third button had left it’s home, and gently pulled the fabric off and away from the right shoulder and the neck. ”Such charming skin.” Though Dima was growing pale from all the nights spent inside, he still found the skin appealing and he would probably always find it appealing. Leaning in he kissed the shoulder, then the nape, then the neck, slowly working his way to the ear, breathing slowly – unendingly – along the way. There was that sound, though it was more of a needing groan this time around.

”When I am rested and you are settled with first mark… We can plea to Prince for second mark… May take full year before allowed to make another… This may take us many years – But I find it worth it… For now, I think I know what I want for…Mm vhat is vord? Liberate? Liberating you from the ‘white fluff of senseless’ mm…But you know vhat I seek.” He exhaled lightly on the last word, granted the whole thing he was saying was muttered so closely to Dima’s ear he could feel Bastian’s lips moving against it, soft and slow with each drawn out word that would slowly slide into the next.

He didn’t mind when Dima had to compose himself, he just smiled and waited, gently petting the bare chest under his finger tips as he’d sometime’s do… Perhaps if he where just a touch bolder he’d kiss that skin too… That area… There was a lot he would kiss on Dima – But that wasn’t quite for here or there… Least not right now. His lips moved again, but this time forming German words that he personally knew Dima would not know, no, just more secret promises to the boy, to all the things he had said… To the things that had gone unsaid, but the German broke and slid into something Dima would understand. ”I am your as of tonight… As you are mine and heed me when I call und need you… Mein haustier..” He said coyly before his voice dropped and his lips curved into a gentle smile. ”Mein Liebe." He kissed the rim of the ear lightly.

Though once again he moved down against the neck, lips trailing over the side softly, only just barely touching the skin before placing a kiss over his preferred feeding spot, he always did that too for some reason, kissed the area before the wound would happen. At least the bite had pleasure behind it. Another kiss the hand on Dima’s chest relaxed flat against the flest, and another kiss brought Bastian’s currently unused arm to rest fully against the wall behind Dima for full support, the third kiss led into the bite. Clean, sudden, and yet no pain – a pinch then a rush of feeling that was so familiar for one and still new to the other, though the rush it’s self was new… In some strange sense… To Bastian too – and, as he figured it, he was more thrilled by these bites… These kisses because Dima meant so much more then a no faced victim on the street side. The hand on Dima’s chest pushed down firmly to plant Dima against the wall so he wouldn’t fall or slide down during the feeding, or be taken too far into the pleasure of it all.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯

[Sears Nazi]

Дмитрий Иларий Александров

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽⊙☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

How could an eternity - however long that may have been for Bastian - be lonely? Surely with an infinite amount of time at your disposal you'd have more than enough time to befriend people. More curious words. . It simply didn't register properly, part in naivety-- Part because the idea of looking and, in some ways, being the same for so long didn't. . seem possible. Oh, he knew it was - saw that it was, but-- perhaps it did make some sense, but not enough for him to realize what living so long actually entailed. "But you have so many valuable treasures," No point in denying that. What didn't Bastian have? ". . but I think I have more, and better ones at that."

He wouldn't explain that one, either. Bastian could take it a few different ways; 1.) It was a joke, which it was not, 2.) He was playing a bit of a game, which he wasn't, 3.) He was lying - which he wasn't, as far as he knew. None of those answers were the correct one - none getting even close to what he had meant. . Oh no. 'Who was the richer man' was a question he often pondered to himself - never quite voicing it, not even to the extent he just did. . Which admittedly was not very much at all. The answer to this question he was fairly certain of, though - at least he thought at the time. Materialistic things. . Bastian had more. There was no comparison there - almost everything Dima owned was given to him by Bastian, after all - so even his own things he couldn't rightly call his! That and, if he were to ask for something, anything. . Surely Bastian would supply him with it. Bastian's wealth, as far as the material goes, was overwhelming. And hell, did he just promise eternity? It wasn't like Dima could ever top that. But treasures didn't have to be measured in material wealth, or, in such elaborate promises--

. . . So, how, then did Dima win? He simply. . . had so much. Or, he had Bastian - but Bastian was worth a lot. No, not that wasn't right either. When Bastian said those kinds of things, it simply served to reassure Dima that he was right. He saw it with the aristocracy, too - oh, they had everything. Nice houses, nice clothing - hell, they weren't dying in the bloody streets and that ought to say something. But. . they seemed to be dealing with the most problems. Have the most stress, always worrying about who would try to overthrow them-- . . . If there would be some kind of revolution. That was no way to live, either. Dima's small band of rogues - living with them presented its own challenges, yes, but - they knew they had each other and that was a wealth the aristocracy could never hope to achieve no matter how rich they got. In fact, it seemed the more powerful the ruler. . . the less they actually had.

So yes - with Bastian there. . Dima had more than he even knew what to do with. He was, in that way. . the "richest" man he could think of. He had plenty of treasures from this whole thing; Bastian - who was the treasure, time with Bastian, conversation with Bastian. . stupid mundane 'treasures' like. . the smell of Bastian or the sound of his voice-- . . Ah, in "treasure", Dima was very rich. At the moment his current favourite treasure, aside from Bastian himself, were Bastian's words. How much would those be worth in coins? . . . Ah, there! Again he was the rich one, he couldn't put a monetary value to them as far as 'worth' meant. "Kind. . .? I don't know about that. Maybe to you, but. . " And then he began to wonder exactly how significant this idea of 'eternity' was. After all, as things were in Russia. . giving how long people lived. . a handful of years may as well be an 'eternity'. What else was unwavering. . ? "I don't know very much about stars but if they died out. . . It'd get awfully cold." Well - this made . . some kind of sense. And Russia - Her coldness was pretty unwavering, so- ". . .And Russia is already cold, so, if you want me around as your companion. . I think I can do that - dying stars won't do much damage." At least that's how he figured it - it wasn't like he knew much of the science behind the celestial bodies and their rocky counterparts. All he knew was that until it was warm in the Russian winter, if Bastian wanted him to be. . somewhere near by, he would be. He couldn't picture the stars dying, anyway - and if they were going to. . if that would be the sort of thing to end this . . eternity, then. . Well, to hell with them! What was a bit more cold in these parts? . . . Or so that's how he saw it with the very basic knowledge he had on the matter.

. . Besides. . being with Bastian is all he really wanted, too - at least he thought on this particular moment, at this particular time. There was a lot he was still unsure of - he was still young, younger than Bastian, anyway. He didn't really know what he wanted or how he wanted things to be. There were problems picturing the idea of 'tomorrow', too, as things were. . He didn't think that far ahead. Never saw any reason to, at least not at this point. Hell, there might be some Dimitrovs yet. And women were such pretty things~

. . . Maybe when this idea of 'eternity' was expanded on things would change - he liked to think so, anyway - maybe 'tomorrows' would be more certain, then.

How long was it until morning? There was no real way to measure time without the sun out - none that he had, anyway - couldn't read clock hands. . And he was tired - the excitement, fear and anticipation from earlier had drained him. Ah, he had done something . . important, this night. It took a lot to make the decision even though he still wasn't completely sure what it had all meant-- . . . Well, it meant spending more time with Bastian, and that is all it took to convince him it was okay. So perhaps it wasn't a . . hard . . decision, just. . . Well, he was . . . scared. . of the vampires. That was the consideration - going anywhere /near/ them. On their grounds. Getting over that little issue was the hard part - and definitely contributed to his current tiredness. Which. . . was a good and bad thing.

Good, because it meant he got to rest in his bed. His very. . own. . bed. Or. . . his own with Bastian, anyway. He liked it - at first just because it meant Bastian was nearby and he wouldn't have to wonder if he had somehow disappeared from the house. . . But now he just. . liked it - even though that initial fear still lingered. Bastian had a curious way with these things, though - resting on his chest. . which made it dreadfully hard to move, and when he did finally wake up he never seemed to be in the same position -- which made him wonder if he had somehow accidentally hurt Bastian. That'd be a horrible thing. But during those moments where it was just him and Bastian, the cool night air - which he almost didn't mind, anymore - just before the morning. . . they seemed to go on forever. He didn't know why Bastian kept that position for so long - it didn't seem like it could be very comfortable, and the . . whole breathing bit would have disturbed him if he were lying on someone but-- . . .Ah, it just meant he'd be able to stare at - and on occasion - touch Bastian's hair, that curious colour, that-- . . . still did remind him somewhat of fire. Warm, warm fire. . . And oddly, the nights were . . warm enough. Probably no thanks to the hair, though - he had grabbed at it a few times - couldn't help himself - . . it never. . burnt.

Bad because. . . he'd need to sleep eventually. Not now, no - not for a while, but. . . Eventually - and perhaps most unfortunate of all, before Bastian. That meant being "taken" from Bastian, even if only for a few hours every day-- . . . but, sometimes he had woken up to the sound of Bastian talking to himself about. . something. Vampires were a strange bunch. The day hours weren't much better! Dima wasn't completely nocturnal - he couldn't be, he needed to go out and get things every now and then. . Speak to his friends among other things. These times were less than satisfactory too since Bastian couldn't be there to enjoy the day hours with him.

. . Although he felt a bit better about not seeing Bastian for those few hours when he made it very clear the cravat would not be buried. "When is it not useless?" he shrugged, almost rolling his eyes at the response -- . . . Pupils beginning to roll upwards until they caught Bastian's smile. In some ways he hated that smile - it always prompted the same response if he wanted for it to or not - which made things horribly difficult when he wanted something, in the rare case, that Bastian wasn't too keen on giving- such as the removal and disposal of the cravat. If there was even an occasion for a brooding face, that would be it --- but! Such a charming smile needed one back in reply -- and so he returned the 'gift'. Just because the cravat fell on the floor finally. Of course that was the reason. That and. . that . . alone. . .?

But Bastian had to keep talking - keep saying these things which made that so hard to believe. "You're always nice," he professed, "except for when you dress me up like. . . this." He looked down at the . . rather faggy clothing on his person. Ah, yes - that was evil of Bastian. He simply knew Dima would put on whatever he wanted him to. . ah, such abuse of the power! . . . Not that Dima didn't enjoy some of it. Ah, he was very fond of the vests - didn't see a reason for them, after all, he had just put on the shirt - why cover it? . . But. . . Yes, those were classy things - if he had to wear the cravat normally he'd have a vest on under it, buttt--- His mind strayed from the clothing back to Bastian who was currently . . . unbuttoning things. Perhaps he should have worn the vest- it'd last longer. Far more buttons to undo. . . before. . the kissing assault.

This was another . . curious form of affection. He had wondered if it was a strange German custom initially - he had let Bastian do it but. . sat through it, rather awkwardly, not wanting to dis the culture. There, kisses were reserved for only certain times - losses, visiting old friends, lovers--. As the years went on he had become used to it - expected it. He'd return the kisses sometimes - sometimes while Bastian was awake, other times while he was asleep. . it was just. . easier to do, then. Times when, as far as he knew, Bastian wasn't aware -- they were same times he'd just stare at the sleeping body and wait for time to pass so he could see it move around, talk to him -- spend time with him. Sometimes he'd grab the end of Bastian's hair - far less likely to notice that then if he went for a hand - and just hold onto it. . Regardless, that wait was the closest thing he knew to eternity.

. . As would be this wait for the second mark. . . likely the third, if they got there and. . that forth one. The one that promised the eternity. . . Waiting an eternity for an eternity - curious idea. However, he was sure his next meeting with the Russian prince . . well, that'd come too soon. That would be reason for waiting an eternity - not having to see someone like. . .that. Not that he was a bad person - no worse than most vampires he knew but--- . . . . No. Well, maybe there'd. . . be a new prince by then. If only. Then he was distracted by Bastian's hands before he could think of something to say-- "Uh-- . . . . Well, if you want what I'm thinking you want. . and I doubt I am wrong given your actions. ." . . . Now what was he going on about? Talking in German again? . . What was with Germans talking to themselves? Bastian did it at night, he did it now-- . . . Or, no. . no he wasn't talking to himself. ". . . by all means, but you'll have to tell me what that means, that. . . liebe word--" . . . Though it was too hard for him to say properly. Did Bastian even know what he was trying to say? . . More importantly, did it really matter? Bastian really needed to stop saying these things or Dima would. . he might just ---

. . . say something stupid. . .

". . . As of tonight? I was under the impression that . . it was like that anyway, and these. . marks. . were nothing but proof of what already was." . . And the last kisses, the one right . . where. . it would all happen -- he was used to those, too. What he was not used to was the wall at his back - that was a position he was told never to get into. Too vulnerable - open to. . attacks, ah, there was no escape from those.

. . But, at least for this moment, against all survival instincts, he wasn't looking for an escape.

And he'd need to lie down, after - he'd be far too light headed to support himself for long after the whole thing was over and done with. . . Ah, Bastian got to do all the 'kissing' but he was the real winner of this little game - he was the one who got to lie down in the nice bed, his bed. . their bed. . in their nice little room of their nice house-- . . . All he'd have to do is wait for this to be over - and oh, it could end at any time. . the current situation was fine - as was the one that'd follow. . . lie down in the bed and. . wait for Bastian to join him as he stared upwards, trying to focus on the ceiling and. . . not fall asleep before the other, for once.

. . It seldom worked.

. . . . But the day. . . the day was his.

LONGEST POST EVER I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR WORDS FFFFFFFF GOD DAMN SLEEP.

[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

Bastian never knew what to say when Dima spoke in such a way. Bastian was well aware he was rich… Rich in things one could own or hold, but he was also very poor. The greatest king could have himself made a castle full of gold but still be the poorest man on the earth… As could a vampire. A ventrue was driven by nobility, money, business… They where driven by it, to be the best of the best in such things… And some if not all welcomed the power and took the loneliness in stride. Bastian did not, the power was welcomed – Power allowed him his freedom, for him to do as he wished to do and as he wanted to do for those around him, which for a great time was just his Sire… But now it was Dima and oh how Dima made him rich. He’d give up everything he owned, all the money he ever had… Everything, if it meant he could have just one more night with him, just one more embrace, just… One more anything.

So he never knew how to answer him, aside from smile and give a curious look at him, but never answer – Perhaps to leave the other guessing on what he may say, what he may think… It was a fun game in it’s self at least. He would give Dima eternity if he wished it, wanted it… Yes, he would. It was the right thing to do, though he feared Dima didn’t fully understand… No he knew Dima didn’t understand but he didn’t hide anything from Dima. He made sure he never lied about anything these marks could do, what they’d bring… and what it’d mean by the very end of them. Eternity was, after all, a very long time to be with someone… But it also allowed one to take care of the other for a very long time an he was sure he could share his eternity with Dima, that would never be the problem.

Drawing away he closed the wound on Dima’s neck then simply picked him up like a bride, he knew Dima would be tired after the feeding as it should be expected when any amount of blood was lost from a person. Carefully he carried the other to their room, aided him in changing for bed, then tucked him in before changing and joining Dima. He laid lower then Dima just to rest his head on the boys chest to hear the heart as he often did, though this night he reached back and fanned out his hair. Honestly he didn’t mind Dima playing with it, touching it. He was really the only one who could get away with doing such things and keep his hands. Dima never pulled on it, never messed it up… Just played with it and he didn’t mind that in the least.

He smiled to himself. No matter how long it took for the marks, he’d wait… No matter how long Dima wanted to wait he’d wait too. He waited this long after all, but as he laid there in the quite of the room with the light babump of the heart in his ear, he thought back on some of the things Dima said. ”Don’t worry about the cravat, it’s what is most popular now liebe, and if there is one thing that I have learned in my time as undead it is that time never stops und fashion always changes. Give few years, no one will remember what a cravat is.” He chuckled lightly, pressing on. ”Ja, when I dress you like this. I know you do not like it, but I know you need to be… Sharply dressed to make impression that is good to prince und I do love to pamper you, I honestly can’t help that.” He couldn’t… Not that he honestly ever tried to help the fact either.

The kissing was something he just… Did. Vampires kissed in respect – The neck or the backs of the hands, which Bastian had told Dima early on… The rest of the kissing was simply because he wanted to, because he adored the feeling of the warm skin under his lips… And because he liked to dote on Dima, a lot, and kissing was such a wonderful way to dote – and so much more wonderful when he got them in return. It was rare but he adored every one he ever got back, and remembered each one fully. He did explain that it wasn’t because he was German… He had too, there was no reason to lie about it. Hell, Dima saw him pay the same respect to the Prince! A deep bow, drop to the knees, kiss of the hand and after the mark was placed on Dima a kiss to the neck to show his deepest respect and gratitude for playing witness to such a wonderful thing. Culture was different everywhere, and once you threw a different race into the mixing pot, then things where really VERY different.

After all Dima could smell if he was lying, for the most part… It was harder to smell when a dead thing was lying and easier to tell when something living was. All shifters could, he’d be able to smell the lies, smell if he had fed from other people, Dima’s nose was perhaps the most dangerous of weapons so it was better to just be honest, and honest he would be… There was no need to be anything different. ”Mein German rambles are for me to know and you to find out when the time is right, ja? I promise it is nothing horrible… Just silly things you’ll come to know in good time, I promise.” And he always, always made good on his promises. ”Liebe is also something you will learn in time, for now I will much keep you guessing… Curious on thing… For now you need slumber.” He gave Dima’s chest a gentle pet.

”It was a long night, even longer still… And the dawn will break soon. There will be much to do come nightfall… I need to write my Sire.” A person Dima knew about, Bastian spoke about his Sire as if he was his father – which was natural for vampires to do if they had a good relationship with them, Bastian just was lucky to have a good one… But the sun was coming and they both needed their sleep… And it wasn’t so hard for Bastian to fall asleep listening to his heart even if he never woke up to the sound the following night.

*~*~*

A year, it had been a year to the first mark, from the first letter to his Sire. To all the changes in the Russian land – a land Bastian would honestly not miss. He’d have left sooner, oh he would have, if you didn’t need the same Prince to watch all four markings. Who MADE that rule anyway? Never the less, there they stood again, in the rather elaborate throne room to the Russian Prince. A curious man who somehow was taller then Bastian, he had a lean face and a generally displeasured look on his face. Lips and underside of eyes lined in black though white blonde hair framed his face… But only just, half was longer then the other and his clothes made it stand out all the more… Black and high collared. Dima should be thankful he was never put in that. The man was tall though and his fingers where long with damn perfect nails on them, these hands where currently resting on the arms of a curious chair, curled, he looked disinterested for the most part… About as much as his current Hound who was at the man’s right with arms crossed.

Bastian had already exchanged the mark. This one was a curious mark. His own eyes matched in exotic blue flame fused with Dima’s. He could now draw power from the boy, could experience what he ate and what he drank, and he could even enter Dima’s dreams if he so did wish to… And perhaps he would just because he could. He was often curious about what Dima dreamed. The marks to come after this one would be a blood exchange… But it was the forth he was most scared of, but it was still such a long way off from now.

But how had a year slipped away from them so fast? Bastian figured it was because they where happy… Yes. He was very happy and so time moved quickly. Oh and he had such fun too, when Dima’s birthday came – Ah, he didn’t throw a huge party but he did get him cake and a pocket watch. It was gold and though he knew Dima couldn’t read the time… Least not yet… He had his own crest put on it – this in Bastian’s mind was his way of easing him into being family either. They where, after all, slowly bonding together under old laws.

He bowed deep to the prince and gently put a hand to Dima’s back to do the same, before leading himself and Dima from the place, back out into the cold night air. He took an unneeded breath and coughed from the sharp cold. ”Two.” He smiled. ”Two to go…” But once again he was tired, though he didn’t ask to lean on Dima… He just did so gently and smile. ”I am very much happy this night.” Not happy with the cold though, or that it seemed darker then normal. ”I am only sorry it happened so close to next full moon. We are… Going out to cabin near woods tonight, ja?” that cabin wasn’t anything special, it had one bedroom and pretty much nothing worth living in, though the fire place worked. Bastian just got it so they’d be closer to the woods for the sake of the full moon, so Dima didn’t have to change in the city and scare people… Though the cravat around the boys neck drew enough attention along with two men being so closely drawn to one another.

“Come come, it is bit of a way from here.” He turned Dima gently and started to walk the other way, not towards their home but the way the forest would be, through winding streets with questioning people… Least if those people where smart they wouldn’t bother them on their trip. ”How do you feel Dima?” He asked curiously, he knew he himself was tired thus he sought aid to stand… And he knew Dima would be exhausted the night after the full moon… So perhaps both events overlapping paid off.. Though Bastian did not feed on Dima the night before during or after the moon… So it was a tedious time. A time for rest, that much was for sure. After all, Bastian stopped feeding on others when he began to feed on Dima… It felt wrong for him to do anything less.

So if he had to wait for blood… Then he’d wait, he could go three days… Even if it was stretching the matter for the young neonate, his blood lust was still there after all… Still a bit hard to control, but he… He would for Dima. As he had, and as he had continued to.. Though now while waiting for the boy to speak… His free hand came up to play with that cured cravat around Dima’s neck.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯

[Sears Nazi]

Дмитрий Иларий Александров

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽⊙☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

1765 brought the death of the Polkovnik, the Colonel who had led a handful of troops into Berlin. He was older - not too old, but older. Word was that he had died of apoplexy. Dima figured he had probably gotten wounded in some quarrel or another - the Polkovnik was a very opinionated man, also a member of the aristocracy -- one needed to defend the land they owned. He imagined the man got too big headed for his own good, accepted some challenge and that was the end of him.

Dima had gone to pay him some last respects - this man who had acted like a father figure to that bunch of serfs. . it seemed only proper. Such a good man - did his job. Took his troops where they needed to be and ensured that as many of them as possible made it back to wherever they hailed from alive - even in that time when life was considered to be so cheap. He had gotten word of it fairly early on - when people had nothing to do but huddle together in small communities current events got spread around fairly quickly. He did still have time to converse with his friends while Bastian slept - not much, nothing like before . . but. . Hell. Some of them had fought alongside him, it wasn't like he was going to let that friendship go to waste. And so, a handful of them had decided to go to the place his body now resided.

. . . There was a conflict of interest. He was certain his friends would not like Bastian - if not because he was a vampire, because he was rich, or simply because he had taken Dima from them. They might try to do something to him when the morning came. . Dima wouldn't allow for that. Even if they weren't posing a problem, the sun would rise and set on their little trek - and there was nowhere to hide Bastian. . it wasn't as though they could travel by night. That was dangerous. He'd hate himself if he didn't visit the Polkovnik, though - and if Bastian's promised 'eternity' really was. . an eternity, that'd be a long time to live with himself filled with regret. There'd be regret either way - he knew it, but. . there would be other days to spend with Bastian. He didn't know - he never knew - how many days his friends had left, and the death of the Polkovnik proved it. In fact, he hadn't spoken with him in a couple of years -- that thought alone bothered him.

The morning before they left Dima had spent sitting at the side of the bed, feet dangling over, Bastian's hand cupped between his own. He caressed the hand, thumb moving slowly down the dead fingers -- such dainty things, unlike his own. He was there for a while, repeating this motion -- he didn't know how long it was, it didn't seem like it was long at all. . but he knew time had passed. He saw the shadows move from under the crack in the door - the sun was moving, alright, and he'd have to go to meet up with his friends shortly. He had wished word had gotten around faster, still - but with the time it took to travel from the Polkovnik's house to the slums of Saint Petersburg, time was already running out. Man'd be far under ground if they didn't act soon-- . . . He shook his head regretfully. Couldn't they tell him sooner?

. . He wished he could write a note with the fine parchment and inks they had lying about, simply stating he'd be back soon. . But he hadn't the slightest how to write. From spending time with Bastian - and Bastian writing to his sire - he could recognize some German words on paper. . He didn't know why those words were what they were, didn't understand that each letter made its own sound, making the word. . the word, and not just random scribbles on the paper. He got up, making sure to place Bastian's hand back onto the bed with extreme care - gently, softly. . . and walked out of the room, opening the door just enough so he could slip out, careful not to let too much sun in. And there was the parchment - the fine inks and the soft quills. . .

He picked up a quill, petting the feather. . Soft thing. . and dipped it in the inkwell. He had never tried to write before - didn't know that only the smallest bit of ink would be more than enough to write numerous words. . He took it out - a few splotches of ink falling onto the parchment. He scowled slightly at this, but placed the quill down on the paper anyway. Where the tip met the parchment another huge splatter was created - but he kept the quill pressed down firmly and began to move it, trying to write out those odd patterns he had seen before - the ones he knew said. . something, for some reason. . . after all, Bastian did dictate things to him every now and then. Once finished, satisfied with what he wrote, he tossed the quill to the side - more ink splattering all over the page. The letters were scribble at best, the note barren save for four poorly-written German words and the numerous splashes. . . "Bastian. Stay. Wait. Soon." . . But it was the best he could do.

And he went with his friends to the Polkovnik's old estate - arrived there in the late afternoon. . Just seven of them; Dima, two friends, the Polkovnik's wife and son, and two friends of his. They stayed by the shallow, makeshift grave until the afternoon gave way to night. As the sun began to set, Dima kept looking at his own hands - the hands that had held Bastian's just hours before, now tarnished by some ink splatters. . . The Polkovnik was, for some time, his only 'father' - his friends his brothers. They were a family - a horrible family who sometimes did bad things to eachother simply because they had to. . But the Polkovnik, he'd call out Dima's full name as though he was scolding a child of his own. His friends would get into little brawls over the most stupid of things like real brothers. . . It was just like a real family. But as he sat there with them. . he found himself becoming increasingly distant. With the 'father' dead, the children were free to do as they wanted, weren't they? . . It wasn't as though the 'mother' had any say in it - she was but a woman. . . Isn't that what was supposed to happen? The children go off and find their own way?

Night still young, Dima turned to leave. It was stupid, going back in the dark on his own but. . . it just seemed as though it was the right thing to do. His mind kept jumping from the Polkovnik to Bastian, Bastian who. . who was also family, now. . and someone who shouldn't be left behind. The ink stains. . had Bastian read the note yet? Could he read it? . . . Was he worried? Dima had begun to worry that perhaps he had made the wrong choice after all. He looked back - gave a respectful nod to the Polkovnik's woman - then to his friends. . . Took one last glance at the shallow grave and began the trip home. If he hurried. . he could probably make it back with only a handful of moments before sunrise.

As he walked back, he thought of a time a long while before. When he'd go between Germany and Russia like it was nothing - having nothing to leave behind. He was reminded of the previous year, too. . He wasn't much older, but he had learned a lot in this time - picking up a few more German words here and there, learning a bit more about vampires and . . whatever came with their strange world. It was the night he had received that first mark. . . He remembered it clearly enough - the Russian Prince most specifically. . Oh, he was still frightened of that guy. But it wasn't that experience that he remembered the most vividly. It was later that night; when . . . it wasn't even the words that were exchanged, though he remembered those too - it was more. . . . Just being there. Thinking back, it was almost like some kind of surreal dream he was witnessing in the third person. It just seemed too. . right to be real. Yes, he was more naive - but everything he said had been the truth. . and as far as he could tell - and he was very good at telling these things - Bastian was telling the truth, as well. .

He really was rich, then - he was rich now. Richer now than he was before. . . though as he walked, as he reflected on everything. . . He felt very alone and very humbled. It didn't matter that he actually had a coat to wear anymore - no, this cold was biting his a** harder than he remembered from those days before Bastian. It made sense. . without Bastian nearby, he was. . well, he was poor - and no amount of things, coats, cravats - which he refused to wear this time- or otherwise would lead him to believe otherwise.

That night, when Bastian had layed beside him. . . Dima had no real thoughts - he just knew he was completely and utterly content. He was too tired, weakened, even, to think on more. . important things, as he was now. . Perhaps this walk in the cold was good. Perhaps this whole little trip was. . good. He was sure he'd see it that way in time, but for now. . now he just wished he was at home. But, he had time to think now -- piece this all together. Who was family, what that term even meant. . what happened that night almost a year previous. .

. . Then he thought about the cravat. Oh, he still hated that thing with a passion. What was it Bastian had said? It was needed to make an impression on that. . dreadfully scary prince? . . When would they see that prince again? . . He'd be honoured to put that damned cravat back on if it meant going though another experience like that. . as long as it could be removed shortly after. It seemed like a fair enough condition, and since it worked so well the last time. . . And the kissing? That curious thing he didn't know what to make of in just that last year after already knowing Bastian for almost four. . He had grown more used to that, too. In fact, he had taken up this once 'strange' custom - kissing Bastian when he saw fit which still wasn't as often as Bastian would kiss, but . . more. He kissed as he saw comfortable - and it meant more to him when he did do such things - because they were still somewhat rare, still. . special.


. . . He still couldn't figure out what the German ramblings meant - perhaps he'd ask again after. . after their second encounter with the prince, whenever that might be. . . Surely he deserved a reward after encountering him again, right. .?

. . He looked back towards the direction he came one last time. Things would be . . more awkward from then on, he knew - between his friends and himself. . . leaving one family for another, but. . some of them had gotten married, already. . some of them even had children. . and some had lost children, children Dima helped to bury. For the most part, Dima liked their children - the living ones, that was - and played with them sometimes as he was the only one of his friends who was still. . basically a bachelor, and had the time to do such things. He didn't really mind, the kids were charming things-- . . He wondered if he'd still be allowed to do that after that last experience.

. . And he wondered about Bastian's family, too. . or if he even had one. Perhaps that'd be a reward, too. . .

When he got back, just a few moments before sunrise as he had anticipated. . . Oh, he was tired. . Was Bastian in the house? . . . It was hard to tell in the dark. He stumbled around for a moment trying to find something -- until he saw that familiar hair, a slight shimmer reflecting off of it from the moonlight. . . "I'm sorry," he said - repeating it again and again, drawing the other closer to him and kissing, those rare kisses. . over and over.

. . And beside, his birthday was coming soon. Perhaps. . the kisses would be returned to him, then. This was just 'money' down. . . wealth of. . that worth while kind.

----
His birthday had come and gone - a simple enough affair, just how he liked it. . . He liked the watch - adored the thing, though he still couldn't use it quite right. He knew that when the small hands reached a certain time - in some months a bit before, in others, a bit after - Bastian would be awake. Like the writing, he didn't know why these hands dictated such things -- just that they did, and it was enough.

His favourite part, though, was the little crest. . . it just reassured him he was right that day he was walking by himself - he had made the right decision, however . . painful it may have seemed. That time reflecting on things. . figuring out what 'family' was all over again. . the crest. . that was enough to assure him that he was right the whole time.

. . . The day of the second mark finally came, bringing . . far more curiosity with it. He wasn't as naive, but there was still some things he was uncertain about (including basic things - not related to Bastian's world at all. Bowing to royals? . . Why do such a curious thing?). . He was certain he wanted to continue with this - certain they'd probably end up there again the very next year. . . Different marks. Scarier marks. . . worth while marks. Two more to go, that was all. .

Two more times Bastian would lean on him as he was now. . Two more time. Dima was sure Bastian would be closer yet the next time they went through this. This time, as Bastian leaned on him, Dima put an arm around him. . drew him in the slightest bit. Next time, perhaps he'd go a bit further. . He was glad to find out that Bastian was happy. The scene was all too familiar - he gazed up again. . nodded his head. "Your happiness is all it takes for me to be happy, but. . . I was already happy beforehand," he confessed, smiling charmingly - blushing slightly. Such mundane things. . He stopped trying to hide it - he couldn't hide it. . the smile only faded after Bastian mentioned the full moon. It was such a pretty thing - Dima was drawn to it, oh. . he couldn't help that. No shifter could. . but it was still . . somewhat scary. By the time that whole thing was over he was so worn out that the next day there was much he couldn't remember. He was always fearful he did something he'd regret - it didn't take much for him to worry, either - the smallest stain of blood on him was enough to make him think the worst. He almost resented the little house they'd be going to that night. Bastian -- . . shouldn't be that close, not then -- . . . Besides, it was. . somewhat embarrassing. . Always was. In spite of the allure of the moon he'd spend the nights before hiding behind his mother as though she could make that horrible orb go away--- . . .

"To the cabin," he said glumly - tiredly. It was a shame, almost - he liked the cabin more than the house because of its simplicity. . because it'd be that much harder to lose Bastian in its few rooms. If only it didn't . . if . . if only it wasn't used during such times, it'd be ideal, at least for Dima. . .

". . How do I feel? . . . Tired," he said. It was the truth - after all. "The night grows old, and . . the excitement takes a lot-- . ." Just as it did the last time. He was sure Bastian was just as exhausted as the previous time, as well. ". . But. . happy, as I said. . very happy." He'd leave his anxiety about the coming moon out. Besides, he'd probably have a nightmare about it anyway. . Bastian would find out sooner or later, that is, if Dima understood how the marks worked exactly. They'd discuss that when they had to. . hopefully it wouldn't be too much of an awkward conversation. Many a full moon had already passed, after all -- he supposed he just wanted to hear it in Bastian's voice - just that it was okay.

And there, again, was the hand on his cravat. . and, again, he responded to it with a faint smile and that uncontrollable blushing. . ."I'm sorry about this," he started - "about having to come all the way out here when I know you are tired. About you. . not being able to feed for a while. . ." He paused, thought things over -- the cravat and how much he hated it not even on his mind. ". . If you . . really want to feed, then. . you can find someone else, if just for these nights-- . . ." . . . Oh, he hated himself for even suggesting that - but oh how he cared and worried about Bastian! . . . It didn't matter that Bastian had proven he could survive those nights time and again. Dima still worried, and would worry as the years went on-- . . getting more and more uncertain of those words until he eventually stopped suggesting it all together.

. . . Then he remembered.

He had some questions. . .

". . . Hey," he asked, stopping in his tracks. ". . What does that word mean? . . . liebe?"

. . And because he was feeling particularly bold. . . He reached into his pocket and took out the gift he had received for his birthday, turned it over and pointed at the crest. What to say. . ? "I've known you for some time. . What, some. . . six years almost?" He chuckled to himself - what was six years to a vampire? Stupid. He shook his head, playfully, "No, no I suppose six years doesn't seem very long to you at all but. . it's a significant fraction of my life. And this, this design here - I know what this is. Family---" . . . he thought of the Polkovnik, but only for a quick moment. He. . just didn't seem as important, anymore. "I. . I considered you family before you gave this to me, and perhaps it was wrong of me - perhaps not." . . After all, it wasn't like he really had an actual family anymore to compare it to. His biological family was long since gone - parents, siblings and all. . not that it was uncommon. He planted a kiss on his forehead before he continued, ". . . But I've always been curious. . . What about . . before?" He had heard of his sire, but. . . that . . couldn't have been his only "family", right. . ? He had to have come from somewhere. .

[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

Bastian stopped as Dima did for once he didn’t smile. In fact he was wondering when these questions would start. ”Ah… I was wondering when you’d start asking me these questions Dima.” Though he stayed leaning, not sure where to start with it all, not sure if he wanted to start at all. ”We’ll start with Liebe… It means love in German.” He said lightly, hinting at a smile. The years had been kind to Bastian, he’d picked up a fair deal of Russian only for the sake of talking to Dima better… and it really did make things so much easier. Though he never forgot the night he woke to find him gone and that scratched note he could barely read… How he walked the house looking for him… And how he spent the night sick with worry. He’d never been more relieved to see Dima when he came home, never had he been so worried. Between the first question and the second he felt it best to settle other matters first. ”As I’ve told you moon before moon, I will not feed from anyone but you, I’m not about to change this and you do not need to fear… Everything will be ok.” Now he smiled.

He didn’t want to touch the second part. Gently he coaxed Dima to walk again. ”I don’t know where to start with your other question, not sure I can while we walk… So, let us get to the cabin and settle before we go into that.” He didn’t want to worry Dima, he just… Needed the time to gather all his thoughts together, make it simple, make it gentle… Get him to understand the difference between this life and the life he left when he died. That’d be the task, now wouldn’t it? He felt he could do it though… He did. For the time though, he walked with Dima in silence – A rare thing, him walking in complete silence… But he did so to think. He had a lot of thinking to do.

His wife was more then likely passed by now.. And his children where grown, married, had children of their own assuming they where still alive too… His parents where gone, the duke lands where gone… So much of it was gone, and yet he grew detached to it after his embrace… After his move, his change… It wasn’t his life anymore and hadn’t been for years. First his Sire became his life – his new father… Then Dima… Dima had been the light of his life for six years now, and perhaps that’s why these questions scared him most of all. He didn’t want to lose that light. The night was cold against them both, and seemed to grow colder still as they left the town and headed into the deeper snow banks towards the woods. It always seemed colder… Bastian really did hate the damn land they walked on.

But his mind couldn’t focus, he couldn’t bring himself to breath or even walk upright now. No… How many years had it really been? Enough… Enough to make this hard. Once the cabin came into view he… Started to speak. ”You are family Dima, you are the light of my life, my liebe, and so much more. It’s why I gave you that watch… Because of what you mean to me and what we are, and what I always want us to be.” He pushed open the door, this one was never locked, and led them inside before shutting the door. The cabin was too cold to take any of the fancy clothes off in, and Bastian just led them into the bedroom – Dropping ungracefully on it, dragging Dima down with him… For a change, he landed so Dima was on top of him, rather then under so they could speak eye to eye.

Hands moving up, he carefully slid them over Dima’s arms, his shoulders, sides of his neck and cheeks then back into his hair. A move so complete it almost hurt to do… Not to Dima no, but for Bastian. If he had a working heart it’d be through his chest or in his neck by now. ”I have never lied to you… And I’m not going to start now.” He sighed and allowed his own head to rest on the bed carefully, this was… Well it, if Dima could accept this, then… The two marks would be easy – He would know then anyway, so perhaps now is best. ”When I was younger, in the youth your eyes have always seen me in. I was the only son to a duke on lands long since claimed fully by the German government. In the times I was young, names needed to be carried on, children, marriages, all these things where expected of the son’s of Dukes, or knights, any noble family to care on the name… And to keep the land among us.” He nodded gently, stroking Dima’s cheeks with his thumbs gently.

”I was arranged to marry when I was 17, she was younger then you when we first met. She had light features, ones I never cared for… Ones I still don’t care for, but in those times you weren’t allowed to pick a mate to preference but to those who’d carry name. We where wed against my will and want. She bore me two sons and a daughter… I assume, only one of the boys looked like me, the other two looked like their mother but… Nothing like me… So I don’t actually know if they where mine, but that’s neither here nor there. His body pressed into the bed and he genuinely looked pained telling all of this, but his eyes never left Dima’s face, not for a moment… Too scared he’d miss an unwanted reaction.

”I can’t lay here and tell you I was a happy man, because I wasn’t. It was marriage because it was my job, not my love. There where children because of blood… Not for want. Of course with my title she was cared for, they where… But it was never a question of care… By god I’m rambling.” He sighed. ”I had them then I was sired and moved. I’ll explain it to you as Aloysius did to me. That life, that part of me has died. I am no longer a human and will no longer be understood as one… If I did stay they’d kill me, if they left they’d mourn me and continue on. I’m not part of their world and in years they will not remember me, and if time is cruel I will not remember my own humanity. With the embrace came a new life, new family… New understanding. When I died my human life did too. So here I am after wondering Germany for countless years along my Sire’s side… I find you. I find you and you are the first person I speak to since my embrace, the first I trust to aid me in wake of the sun… The first I’ve cared for in so long. To worry for you… To laugh, to care, and so much more I don’t know how to put to words.”

He moved his hands from Dima’s cheeks and down his arms again, holding him firmly but not to bring harm… Just to feel as if he isn’t about to lose him. God he didn’t want to lose him, he never wanted to feel that fear again… And for a moment he felt like he needed to teach Dima how to write a note… But that moment quickly passed. ”You’re my family now, you bare my crest, my marks. You have my affection, my care… You have me and as I’ve promised, you will have eternity. You… Will have whatever you wish, no matter the wish, so long as I can give it to you I will. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you and perhaps that’s why… I never told you of what I was before I died. Too scared you’d leave over a life long since dead, long gone… Over a life that holds no bounds to who I am now, who I find myself with now. I don’t want you to leave. I…” He closed his mouth and just smiled at Dima and shook his head. ”You matter more to me then you’ll ever know, what ever you want to know from me I will tell you. I hold no secrets to you.” But still he held those arms, stronger arms in feel then his own, fabric of the shirt sliding between his own thin fingers and denting so delicately. What more could he really say?

Simply, he lifted his head and kissed Dima’s forehead, then his neck, before laying back on the bed once more just to rub those arms lightly, quietly. In a way to calm himself… Ventrue often had a wonderful habit of over reacting to things… Especially when it came to things that mattered to them that they where at some kind of risk of losing – even if it was only in their heads. He wanted their nights to continue, he wanted to continue the marks… He truly wanted to spend his eternity with Dima, to be part of him and to understand him completely… Just as he wanted to be an open book for Dima. No more secrets, no wonderment of lies… Nothing. He would give himself most completely… Willingly… If Dima so wanted it, it was all there for him to take. Though the noble Ventrue looked so humble under the other, so… Broken in fear. Rare fear… Fear was a face Bastian never let Dima see on him… But he was vulnerable now, at risk now.

Not the same kind of risk one ran into when attacked… This was a much more… Rare risk, one that one understood on sight but not sound. In how the eyes moved but not how the words spoke… It was a curious nature. Though… Strangely, Bastian felt as if he where in the wrong. As if he should have never had the first life, the human life… As if it… Tainted something between them. ”I’m sorry… That felt familiar… How did it go? ”I’m so sorry… I don’t want to ruin anything. I’m sorry. Oh he was, even more still as he lifted to place light kisses on Dima, fragile kisses. Never ever had Bastian seemed so weak, between the tired and the submissive nature displayed now… This Ventrue, the noble lord of the night… Was a far more humbled and broken man in the other’s wake… Fearing what the other would say to his words, fearing he’d get up and leave. Fearing… So much fear.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯

[Sears Nazi]

Дмитрий Иларий Александров

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽⊙☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

. . Such a simple answer, and yet, he didn't expect it. In foresight, it made sense - more sense than he'd like to admit, mainly to himself. Of course that was what that curious word, that . . liebe meant. How could it have meant anything different? He smiled - faintly, weakly. . . as though trying to coax a smile out of Bastian. He figured the hint of a smile matched his own - he found it hard to smile, even force a smile, if Bastian wasn't smiling. "I figured," he said with a slight nod - the hair which framed his face falling slightly - out of place. . messy. He didn't bother to fix it. That is what he thought. . or had thought, at least in the past few months, the thought ever fleeting. He was unsure of what it was before that - utterly confused by such a short and simple word. Either way, he never expected Bastian to actually say it - he thought he'd have to find out the answer for himself, one day question Bastian about it. . . and know he was right only by the silence it brought with it, or. . . by the very scent of the lie.

His words regarding the moon were reassuring - as they always were. . making everything seem as though it'd be alright. It would be - it always was, as far as he . . could remember, anyway. Bastian was okay every time at least - and his. . life. . was the only one that really mattered. There were his friends, too - but they resided so far away from this little shack in the woods that it didn't matter. They'd be safe. He did feel bad though - bad about Bastian's situation. Bad that he was selfish enough to want things to stay how they were in spite of his words. . . Upset that every time Bastian assured him that it was only he that he'd feed from he was pleased with both himself and his decision in sticking around Bastian. . Ah, poor Bastian - he'd betray his thoughts over and over, always vocalizing the same thing - "It's not fair." . . Yet he was oddly content - and cringed at the same thought - knowing that it wasn't.

The second answer he could tell wouldn't be as easy. As they continued their walk, Dima stared at Bastian - trying not to blink. He felt as though he might miss it all - he wasn't sure what it was - if he looked away for just a moment. . . Bastian wasn't talking - he couldn't focus on his words, no. . . Bastian was there - beside him, and yet. . he didn't know where Bastian currently was. He just hoped it wasn't too dark of a place, and if it was. . . that he could somehow, one day, find his way there. Maybe things. . wouldn't be so dark, then.

His eyes never left Bastian's face for their entire walk to that smaller home of theirs. He was pretty good at reading emotions, but. . he had no way of knowing what Bastian's thoughts actually were. It was a curious thing - how one single face could contort to show such a vast array of emotion and tell such a detailed non verbal story. That face. . the face that looked so worried, burdened and troubled now. . That was the same face which had given all the kisses, flashed all those smiles at the most curious of things. . . Yes, he had seen Bastian smile when there was nothing worth smiling at - simple things, just his . . being there. It almost made him laugh - but he could never comment on it. He often did the same thing. Now. . now that very same face looked so different to him. He couldn't even begin to piece together the story, whatever it was. . . Once again he felt horrible for even bringing the topic up.

. . . He couldn't deal with that anymore, and looked down. . it didn't matter what part of the story he missed, now - he had been watching it the entire time and none of it made any sense. Watching the ending just. . seemed pointless. He focused on something new, now - the moon playing off the white of the snow. So flat, so. . untarnished by anyone or anything. He almost hated stepping in it, footprints now forever engraved in what was at one point so neat. . Right before they got to the house, he looked behind him to see the trail of footprints the two of them had made. . . and that was all that was there. He could see his own - they fell fairly constantly . . Bastian's. . Bastian's footprints looked more erratic. It made sense - unfortunately - horribly. . . He wasn't walking as proud as he normally did. The footprints. . . he wished the snow would look like that forever - just their foot prints, nothing else. . but that'd be covered soon - if not by animal tracks than by a new sheet of snow. . Perhaps it was for the best. He couldn't deal with knowing those footprints of Bastian's - those curious footprints - looked that way because he had to ask a stupid question. . . something he was simply curious about. Not something that truly mattered.

When Bastian spoke, Dima kept very still - very quiet. Even after Bastian finished speaking he kept quiet, as he waited a moment for it to set in. He knew those words now - the mystery of liebe now reveled - the others he had known for a while. . . And yet, when put together like that, in that voice. . for a moment, he could make no sense of it. He sighed - the sound of the wind, the moving trees and the animals that inhabited the forest all he heard for that brief moment in time. . aside from that, the night was eerily silent. Or perhaps the night was the same as it always was - he and Bastian were the silent ones. Well, what was there to say? "That you consider me family . . makes me feel better. It puts an end to many of my fears and makes me feel more secure knowing there is at least you - that there will always be you. . . Because that's how families work, right. . ?" . . Something like that - he was close enough. But eternities were awfully long times - and though he couldn't quite grasp the concept yet, he knew enough about it to wonder if. . things would be like this for Bastian's eternity. An eternity was a long time to spend with somebody. . . He didn't want Bastian to get bored! That was the risk of having something so close though. . . giving them your all, risking never getting it back. Giving up time, energy, emotions. . things which would be taken with open arms until . . . until things got too boring. How long did it take to learn everything about a person? . . How much longer did he have?

The bed in this residence wasn't as comfortable, wasn't as ornate. . But it had a charm the other bed did not have - a simple charm. . but he wasn't thinking of this, no - some things remained the same no matter which house they were in. Bastian being so close-- that familiar scene in this mostly unfamiliar setting compared to the other one. . The different positions they found themselves in - yet they both knew what to do, anyway. From his position, though, the familiar looked. .a bit curious. As Bastian rested his head on the bed, Dima watched his hair stick out oddly from underneath him, the weight of his own head causing it to flare out some which other parts were flattened out. Simple things. . yes. Simple things like this would paint the most vivid of pictures when it came to recalling the night years later. . and he'd have many nights to recall. "I know you've never lied. . I know, I know, I know." He said, almost pleaded as though saying it like this would make his words true forever. . Futile - he knew it, but. . oh, did it matter? Bastian wouldn't lie to him. He knew Bastian hadn't lied yet - Bastian didn't need to say anything - and he trusted Bastian wouldn't lie in the future. What reason had he to?

. .And the story began - the story of Bastian, of the man he had spent those six years with already. . . without knowing much about him at all. He dare not interrupt the story though there were parts he found so curious. . Ah, such a different world he came from - such a different world he was in now! . . But it was this odd merging of worlds that made things. . interesting. Made sticking together for that eternity all the more possible. . probable.

It wasn't until Bastian stroked his cheeks that he dare comment, using the motion as a break. There was more to come - he knew Bastian wasn't done, but. . . if Bastian was going to be offering insight to that world, Dima would have to explain his. "It's not like that, here," he started - almost feeling like he was interrupting. ". . Names needing to be carried on, that is. . I don't know how it works for the aristocracy, maybe it's the same, but. . here, at least where I grew up. . names hold no meaning other than to tell who you belong to. There is no land to hold onto - and any children born will only . . work as slaves, as their parents before them did. .so the children born are born because people want them. They know their lives will be hard, but, they want something to spend time with. . ." Ah, family. Family - a unit that overcomes hardships because they need to if they wish to spend time together. He smiled slightly - reassuringly - as he placed his own hand over Bastian's while he stroked his cheeks. It was his own way of telling the other to go on.

[this is where i fell asleep, after that part. i won't revise it so lol sorry if its s**t. everything below should be normal d'8 . . .]

He supposed the deal about the marriage wasn't. . . too strange. It wasn't as though he had meddled in the affairs of the nobility, but based on what he knew of the Czar and his wife - who was the actual ruler- it couldn't have possibly been arranged purely out of love. The age. . was normal, too. He nodded - he understood it so far to the best of his ability. The children - he had remarked on them enough. . Ah, he hoped the one that looked. . like Bastian was the elder of them - brides should be pure things. It was reason to kill them if they were not, after all. Hm. . such a strange suspicion to have. Had Bastian never questioned it? . . He wouldn't ask, it didn't matter to him - this was long ago, after all, a time he wasn't around for. . But it did bother him. Not so much the fact that there was this question about. . where the hell the children came from, but because . . well, he didn't rightly know. It just bothered him to hear about this. . this once upon a time family - but he kept smiling, that same faint smile but with a slightly weary brow. . Ah, perhaps he was a bit disturbed by it - but he was glad Bastian trusted him enough to share and. . that made it alright.

That he professed that he wasn't a happy man back then. . . ah, he almost wanted to frown when he heard that. As he explained more, Dima understood more - but . . what he understood still didn't make any bit of it seem. . right. Aloysius - that was a name he had heard time and again. If anything, his words made the most sense - yes. . How one could up and leave a family- of that he was still uncertain, though. . he supposed if Bastian truly was unhappy, he was glad he did such a thing. Could things really have been that bad, though? To give it up and start again - begin a life of some. . eternity? Become a vampire, of all things ---- . . . .

No, no he was wrong. Of course he'd never be a vampire - he'd never have to deal with those kinds of things that Bastian had, never have to make that decision to end a mortal life and . . . But he would, as he understood it, eventually be taking a blind jump into whatever eternity would bring. Different. . but perhaps not as different as once thought. It was hard to picture - him, existing as he was, a few decades later let alone centuries. . He imagined he'd still be himself, but. . the world would change. It might not be something as drastic as having to give everything up at once, but the things he knew would no longer be around. . his 'family' outside of Bastian wouldn't be around. . Ah, different, but perhaps not so different after all. It made him wonder what he'd do if he was the one in Bastian's situation-- . . .

But the story had to stop, here. How impolite - butting into a story like this - one that seemed so painful to tell that stopping it short might mean not having it continue. . . But he trusted Bastian would continue-- . . . and added his two cents. "Time simply favours you," of this he was certain, "it hasn't been cruel at all." . . Not that he knew much of living as long as Bastian already had. But Bastian certainly had not lost his humanity - he didn't . . see that happening in the future, near or otherwise. . Perhaps it was something of a bias he had - after all, he hadn't experienced much as far as vampires go and they were. . . somewhat disliked by default. Back then, it was easy to say 'vampires' were some kind of monster - though he knew his own kind weren't all that much better if better at all - . . but it wasn't easy to see Bastian that way. He couldn't.

And then there was that part of the story - the part he could recall. . . Recall because he was there. Because this part was a shared experience-- . . .one still being shared and expanded on with each passing night. He nodded to these words, smiling changing from one of concern to genuine happiness - still faint, though, such wasn't the occasion for a broad smile. He wasn't sure how to reply to that bit - oh, there was things he could say, but he'd just be repeating Bastian's words. . No need for that. He was sure Bastian had some general idea of his feelings about the whole thing. . There was one thing to say: "You don't have to find the words. . Didn't even need to say what you already have - I already know."

He paused, considered the words for a bit - he needed to reassure Bastian things would be okay, and it should be easier - he wasn't trying to write a note, now. ". . . That you told me all this - that you told me about something which was so long ago and . . so painful," . . Was that too bold, he wondered? ". . is more than enough for me to know that everything you've said is true - about me, about how we are family now. . " . . Ah, he wished he was a wordsmith. "If I didn't know that I had your affection and care I'd have to be more than blind. I see it, and it means a lot to me knowing I have it. Were it possible I'd return the favour tenfold but I don't see how I could even begin to do that. This eternity - it doesn't matter to me. I'm sure people would shower you with affection knowing you could promise that alone. . . But to be honest, if something happens between now and. . and whenever you make good on this promise of yours, it won't matter. I won't resent that eternity didn't come sooner. . that's not why I am here." . . In fact, that eternity part scared him most of all - because it was unknown. The fear of death was still very real, especially with the temperatures of Russia being as they were- but oh, he hoped there'd be more time yet-- ". . . No, that's not why I am here at all. Knowing that I have tomorrow to look forward to is enough - looking forward to eternity is. . . just more tomorrows. I look forward to those tomorrows, be it one or. . more than I could possibly hope to count," . . . which wasn't as many as he'd admit - counting was a dreadfully hard thing, and once he used up all his fingers . . what number came next?. . Tenone? Tentwo?. . . Tenten? . . .Tentens-one? ". . And you telling these stories won't change that. I'd be depriving myself if I left, wouldn't I?" . . . What else to say? Or. . no, Bastian's kisses said enough for the both of them.

"You're strange," he remarked when the initial kissing was over and done with. . . after the apology was done with. Such an unneeded thing. "You made me feel better. You didn't ruin a thing. Some fears of mine have been eased." . . . Oh, that Bastian told so much. . Such things that bothered him to such extents. . One couldn't lie and act that way - that required. . far too much skills to pull off. Ah, it was so much easier to believe this eternity was coming - that there'd be all those tomorrows. . . all tententententens of them. . Bastian wouldn't lie. . . and if there was anything Bastian would like to know. . Dima saw no reason to lie, either.

[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

Bastain was a proud man… A noble man… but even noble men break. Hearing Dima’s words, hearing things where okay just settled something in the old ventrue. The light on his own eyes played a little different, shined a little different, but no water left them – Not now, not yet… Not for this particular thing. No. He drew a breath and gently brushed hair from Dima’s face, trying to compose himself now. Ah how he hated looking so weak. ”There will be more tomorrows then you or I will know what to do with Dima. I don’t want anyone else’s affection, devotion… Whatever they wish to offer me. All I want is you, be it at my side or as close as we are now… Whatever the future will bring us. There will be no other for me, just as there is no other I feed from, no other I kiss as I kiss you, or hold as I hold you. You have me captive Dima and I don’t want to get away.” He chuckled at his own words. Silly things they where.

With a sigh he slid an arm around Dima’s middle to hold the younger more comfortably. The room smelled old to Bastian, of wood and dust and he could tell it was cold though he knew it couldn’t hurt him now… Not much could save for the sun and physical attacks. ”I am not strange, I just choose not to be very normal… Being an aristocrat becomes boring after a few years Dima… You’d be strange too.” He chuckled and lifted to kiss his temple but rather then resting back again he rested his forehead against Dima’s, his own hair pooling on the bed behind him. ”But I am glad I made you feel better with my words… You’ve eased me with yours. There is so much I will give you in this world, but not even half of it will be touchable… No one will be able to take them from you, or me… They will have to end me to take you and I have no plans to simply lay down and die.” With little effort he sat up, having Dima in his lap. It was easier to not crane his neck this way… Though it was cute how much shorter Dima was compared to him.

”I will always answer you, no matter what. Never fear asking me questions.” And for the first time in a while that night he smiled, he smiled his normal smile and tilted his head to the side. ”After all, you have no problem voicing your displeasure of your cravat.” Oh he sounded far more upbeat now, even as he took Dima’s cravat off and tossed it over his own shoulder in a show of fake dramatics. Bastian did feel better now, and it showed on his face and how he played now. Tomorrow was a day away and the future was a very long time from now… Ah, but what better creature then he to love for all eternity? He knew he could, everything he felt told him he could. ”Such a long night mein liebe~ We should rest… You have a very long day tomorrow… But do not fear, never fear. I am here and I will always be here even after the moon fades.” With that he moved them both, along with the covers and slid into bed with Dima, this was one of the nights he didn’t stop to listen to the heart beat of the other, rather he just held Dima close to his body, face hiding in the far darker locks of the younger counterpart.

*~*~*

Aloysius had been there a day, a night, and a day more… Marking this the second night he’d been there. He much narrower in the face then Bastian. Very lean, he looked quite serious and damn near immaculate. His hair was blonde and brushed his shoulder blades in such a thin line it almost looked as if it could be a blade. His skin was as alabaster in color as Bastian’s but his eyes where a pale blue, features that the nazi in later years would find to be superior to everything. The first night was very awkward for them both. Bastian was like a small kid on trial… As if he was having his room checked to make sure it was cleaned… While Dima kept getting looked at and watched by the much…. Much older vampire. Oh Aloysius was old alright, older then them both put together. Just a week before Bastian and Dima had gone through the third mark… The first mark that required blood for it to work, for Bastian to drink from Dima – The first time such a private act was done in front of others… In front of a prince no less. His Sire was aware of this… Aware of what they where doing…

And he didn’t like it. Now, to be fair he had not an issue with what Dima was, where he came from, what life he was born into… In fact he was very sure he’d make a wonderful mortal body guard since he was a shifter, but he felt it just wasn’t proper to make him a bound servant. Especially with the fourth mark, Aloysius just felt it was more… Proper… To do that with the woman you felt you where going to be with and wished to continue to be with… Granted that’s not always what that mark was for. No… This night didn’t start out well at all, in fact poor Dima would be started with a slam of a hand down onto a desk, that beautiful desk which threatened to bow and crack from the force slammed against it… But such a blow wasn’t done by Aloysius – It was done by Bastian.

”You haven’t the right! Bastian snapped at the aged man from behind his desk. Of course that was a curious thing to say, his Sire did after all have much right to speak but just because he had the right to do so didn’t mean anything could be done. Already three marks had been exchanged between the two men – the process was already too far gone to be easily pulled out of now, not without harm coming to one of them at any rate. Bastian flared up again at the disapproving gaze from his Sire. My servant is my choice! Male or female, human or shifter… Or, or for all it’s worth I could have picked a bloody FAE!” His voice bellowed through the house, as if he’d command the very framework to kneel to those nasty words.

Aloysius shook his head and brought his arms up to fold, disappointed in his Childe’s temperament at the current moment but having a hard time controlling his own. Don’t speak to me in that tongue, boy, I am still your sire and I am entitled to say what I wish. I don’t give a damn if he’s a shifter, a fae, or a human. He could be a caster or a wood nymph or something utterly absurd and I still would not care. I have an issue that you chose a male to be your companion… Your counter part. You realize this, correct? If you keep going through with these bonds there won’t be much difference between the either of you. You’ll start and end the same Bastian, in one long eternal dance. You should have picked a woman, it would have been proper.

Bastian stared at his sire then broke into a laugh but how nasty a laugh it was. He’d been in Russia for seven years now but he was still a full blooded German man through and through. The laugh was nasty, deep, and full of anger that could almost be tasted on the air. ”Proper you say? Proper… Yes, a woman would have been proper. To know a partner so completely… It would not strain a love life! Women are snakes and I’ve already had a woman, and children, why do I need another? So the woman can be at sorrow over what I cannot give her? That I cannot bare? Betray me and harm me more with such strong marks? No.” He sneered. His first and only wife and the confusion on if his children where… His… Left a very foul taste in his mouth on woman as a whole.

”They say no one loves quite like our kin, I would have expected you… Aloysius, my sire, to understand my choosing in a servant… No… A companion, a friend, my liebe.” He didn’t hesitate for a moment on his words, he was not ashamed of Dima, and the volume of his voice never faltered. ” Dmitry is a strong werewolf. He’ll protect me in my journeys… He will be my companion, my friend… And he will have my eternity if he so does wish it. He can have all of me and damn it he can have every extension of me if he wants it. I do not want another woman. I had one of those… And it was you who told me how to leave that life behind. I’m quite done with women. Bastian stated with a level of cockyness that shouldn’t be handed to one’s sire.

Dima could hear it - Granted he couldn’t actually feel everything yet, wasn’t tied to him that strong yet, but he could hear… And what he heard after that was a nasty eruption of volatile German from that point. Vile and harsh with no sound of either side backing down from their words or where they stood. Bastian wouldn’t let his sire of all people degrade who he had chosen for these marks… In his own home no less! No, he stood ground and defended Dima just as he always had… Just now with a temper unseen for seven years… A temper that washed over the house so completely it threatened to fall when Aloysius just up and left, slamming the front door behind himself – cracking it and damaging it to the point where it wouldn’t close properly anymore.

Bastian slapped the desk again hissing after the man, fangs bared in an unnatural way. He was livid, and at some point he had hit the desk again, hard enough to cause his own hand a great deal of damage. It currently hung at his side as he stood breathing deep… But… A thought crossed his mind. Where did Dima go? Oh god… And all the rage he had seemed to slide away as he walked the house calling out for Dima. Not in anger, but as he always had called for Dima… Ever since day one. When he did find Dima he slowed down in his walking. He knew very well what he had done… What state the other was in now because of it. He brought his harmed hand up to rub lightly as he spoke.

”Mm… Mein haustier… Do not cower from me, please. Let the other cower in my wake – but not you, never you… My temper is not meant for you. Never will it be, never ever will I yell at you like this, never will I hit you… God… Never ever mein liebe… Please. Please come here.” Bastian could feel part of his hand was broken… But that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now… All that mattered was whether or not Dima was alright, if he… If he feared him now. God he’d never live with himself it was the case. He kept rubbing the hand though, causing the pain to renew with each pass of the nimble fingers, as if it would somehow correct the horrible thing he’d done that night. Up to this point the worst he’d done to Dima was play a very out of tune Cello… Seemed so much more innocent compared to all the yelling, the slamming, and the breaking of things.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯

[Sears Nazi]

Дмитрий Иларий Александров

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽⊙☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

He had heard much about Aloysius. . but when they actually came face to face he wasn't sure what to think. He wanted to like him - truly he did - as the man meant something to Bastian. . . But it seemed wherever he went - whatever he died - he was being watched by the pale blue eyes of that older vampire. He felt as though he was constantly under scrutiny, eyes following him or not, and he didn't like that. Initially, he'd smile - Oh, he tried so hard to please him. Tried to be as nice of a host as possible, even listened very closely to his words - including those he didn't understand. He listened to the words not even directed at him just to prove he was listening - that he was serious. . And maybe prove that he could . . .possibly . . . be someone worth while of Bastian. . . to someone else. Somebody who meant something to Bastian.

. .But as that second night went on. . . He found it harder and harder to smile. He'd listen still, intently. . And oh, he was a good listener -- . . . It just seemed less and less likely that he'd get anywhere with the man. It was a new feeling - knowing someone was watching everything you did. No - no, people had done that before. But this was different - it actually mattered, this time. Dima was dressed up nicely, too - accepting the fashionable clothing of the era, not making a single complaint about it. He still disliked the clothing - especially the senseless accessories like the cravat. . but he wanted to please Bastian - oh, how he did! . . . It was one thing dressing up this way for a Prince - yes, a Prince who was aiding them with something wonderful and miraculous, but still. . just a prince. To dress this way for this vampire - . . . it meant a lot more. He was glad he took this precaution - dressing as neatly and proper as possible - sitting up with the best posture he could and instantly fixing himself when he realized he had begun to slouch. . There was not much he could get past those eyes.

But. . . after a while, he just didn't want to be involved. There was no acknowledgment that he had done something right, at least none that Dima knew of. . and he kept watching so intently that Dima figured he was just waiting to see him do something wrong. Most vampires still frightened him in some way - he was still untrusting of most. . and Aloysius wasn't doing much to ease this fear. But he sat - continued to sit as nicely as possible. After all, things would. . sort themselves out. They simply had to. All he was certain of was he wanted to be with Bastian for that eternity; needed to be with Bastian for that eternity and, most importantly, would be with Bastian for the entire length of that eternity. In a world of uncertainties - and Dima could think of many - this was the one thing he knew, was completely certain of. . The one thing he not only wanted but would make sure happened inevitably. Aloysius . . bothered him, and yes, beyond being a vampire even scared him. There was no doubt the man was powerful enough to end him there and then if he wanted to -- . . but oddly, curiously, it just didn't seem to matter. There'd be no point continuing on if he couldn't stay at Bastian's side--- . . . What a stupid thought, of course things would end up okay. Bastian did say he'd make good on his promise and Dima trusted him, and that was all he needed to know to be certain that everything would work out okay.

There was still a lot Dima didn't know about Bastian's sire - there was simply no reason to ask. He had asked about Bastian's family a year previous - he had gotten his answer. He had thought to ask about Aloysius before, around that same time - . . .and he was glad he didn't. It didn't matter - he knew who the man was, knew of his relation to Bastian. . the rest was. . insignificant. Did it matter how they met? How. . everything happened? . . . No. . no, it happened, it didn't matter how or why - just that it did, and because it did. . Bastian was who Bastian was, who he had been since Dima met him. . . That same Bastian he had spent almost a decade with night after night. . the thought made him smile again, in spite of Aloysius' company. He simply couldn't help himself, couldn't control it. . and if Aloysius was still watching as intently as he was before, the man probably thought Dima had gone daft with a smile so broad seemingly out of nowhere! . . No, there was no helping that.

He kept to himself for a good portion of the night - keeping himself near Bastian but not close enough to, as far as Dima could tell, upset Aloysius. As disturbed as he was by the older vampire he stayed nearby. . He'd always be nearby. . He couldn't help that, either. That house of theirs. . he was still uncertain that Bastian would still be there if he left the room, more uncertain still now that there was a third party -- . . one that could take Bastian away, and. . as the sire, may or may not have the right to be able to do such a thing. Again Dima found himself unsure of how 'vampires' worked, and. . . was slightly upset because of it. There were thoughts he had - thoughts which would prevent these negative feelings and somewhat irrational fears at bay - mainly thoughts of Bastian and the things they had done - the things they would do. . He didn't feel his face contorting - but after each of these thoughts, when one memory faded into the next, he could feel the slightest pain in his lower jaw. . He had been smiling, subconsciously, a bit too much. . and this is how he past the time.

His current thoughts took him to a time when things weren't like this - not to this extent. He hadn't received any of the marks yet. . . But there were already these promises of 'anything'. There was still a lot of things he didn't have - and anything was tempting. Very tempting. . But things seemed unrealistic. Nobody promised so much and didn't expect something in return. And Dima, well, he had nothing to give. Initially he had wondered if the language barrier had caused the problems. . perhaps Bastian just didn't know what he was saying? Perhaps the fault was his own and his inability to understand? Either way, there was no need for empty words and promises - they had enough of that going around. . but such was just how things were. How they would continue to be. . . and so he decided to test this theory out. It started off simply - testing the waters. . some spare coins for food. . Perhaps the next day he'd ask for a bit more. By the time he had requested enough for a full meal - and Bastian seemed all too happy to comply. . he thought to ask for one more thing. Ah, it hadn't been long at all but this seemed like eons ago. .

"Is it from Germany?" he asked, speaking what seemed to be inhumanly slow as so the other would understand. He motioned towards Bastian's current outfit. "I like it." He smiled, tilting his head towards the side slightly to get the hair out of his eyes. He did like the outfit - and as usual Bastian looked simply charming. The clothing alone demanded respect . . Dima envied it. He wished he had something like that - but in his entire life he hadn't saved up enough to purchase the shirt alone. He looked at Bastian, glancing up and down, inspecting his entire ensemble. . Hell, that ring he wore on his finger was probably worth more than Dima was. ". . I. . " he began, slower still. . this time uncertain of what he was saying, "I'd like something like that, I think. .an outfit like yours."

And he had gotten it, alright. . and he had loved it. The sheer amount of fabric impressed him - how thick each layer was. . the shirt alone provided more warmth than any of the coats he had worn in the past. He had worn that outfit a lot after that, putting it on every day he could until the stitches began to come undone. It wasn't a matter of that being the only outfit, though. There would be more - some more fancy than others. . some with the dreaded cravat. . He did have options and, the more time that past, the more of them he had. It didn't matter. He had loved that first outfit so. . Not because he now knew Bastian truly would get him anything he asked for, but because it meant he was . . That he cared, actually cared, it wasn't as though he was buying him over with cheap gifts, no. . .Nobody would spend that much on a nobody. The thing that got to him most, though, was that his words were, Bastian's words were-- . . .

. . . He didn't know why he had loved that outfit so much at the time, but as he sat in the room while Bastian and Aloysius spoke it made sense. Too much sense. . What else was there he could recall? . . . What other stories ended with Bastian making good on his word? Did they not all end this way? . . He didn't know if he should smile or not. . Didn't know if he should be glad for this or not. . Didn't know if he should be proud of himself for winning these affections or be upset that he had ever doubted. . So he just sat there for a brief moment, blankly -- . . . he almost felt a tear coming on as he thought on it all, somewhat overwhelmed by it all, as well as by what was currently happening. . On how Bastian would keep his word and how they would be spending an eternity together, side by side, if Aloysius approved or not.

He had gotten lost in these thoughts - his surroundings completely invisible as he relived these moments vividly. . there was no Aloysius to startle him until this point, no-- they weren't even memories of his friends of his family . . only Bastian. This is what caused that slight pain in his jaw - the pain he didn't feel until after he had already been smiling for far too much and now stopped to consider all of it. . It wasn't until he heard a loud sound that he snapped out of it. It startled him as the actual reality came back into focus, the memories, for now, gone. The sound hurt his ears - such a loud and unfamiliar sound. . and as though the sound didn't startle him enough, he was more shocked to see Bastian was the cause of it.

. . And more shocked still when Bastian began this tirade. He had never expected things to work out this way, never thought Bastian would be yelling at his sire. .Especially over someone like him. It was enough to make him regret his previous thoughts - of how things would work out, on how they'd finish thing thing that they started. . He just wanted to spend the rest of eternity with Bastian! He didn't mean for any of this to happen! Oh. . he'd say nothing. He couldn't say anything - his voice had left with this previous thoughts. He wanted to make himself scarce, blend into the shadows or just. . seemingly disappear. He had heard some vampires could do things like that, but-- . . he couldn't. Of all the things they could possibly argue about. .why did it have to be about him?

. . and more importantly. . Why was Bastian acting that way? All the screaming, the loud voices - they blended together in his mind into an incoherent mix. Even the words he understood had no real meaning and in spite of his wishes, he couldn't tune it out. Words, words, words! He looked at Bastian - he assumed he must have looked pretty pathetic, and horribly confused. . Lost, even - and even more lost when he didn't recognize his face. The same, familiar hair framed it. . the body looked the same and was decked out in the same clothes. . He even glanced down at the fingers - there was that ring, the ring which was worth more than he was at one point. . . Only Bastian wore that ring. Why, then, was this not Bastian but some strange creature who spoke jumbled up words and. .

He turned to Aloysius - even he seemed more threatening that he was before, and Dima had been on end around him as it was ! And the two kept arguing - the one that was Aloysius and the one who he. . wasn't even sure was Bastian, anymore. . Never had he seen that face on Bastian in all their years together. . As they got more involved with their argument, words were exchanged louder - quicker - and Dima, with his basic understanding of German and fear of the whole situation, could not keep up. He winced - it was too loud, now, painful to even listen to. He took one last glance at Bastian. . was it Bastian? . . and slowly made his way out of the room, hoping the both of them were too involved with their battle to notice him. It only reassured that little fact that he had been told numerous times before: vampires were horrible and scary things.

. . But Bastian. . Bastian had never been either of those things. . Then why was he-- . . . why was--

He realized it was the first time that he had left the room and hid himself somewhere far out of sight. . The first time while Bastian was awake, anyway, in all the years they had lived together. If that person really was Bastian. . he'd find him. He'd come for him. . If it wasn't Bastian, it could get lost in the house for all he cared. He heard laughing from the other room - a cruel laugh. . it didn't sound like any of the laughter he had ever heard. . He was starting to wonder if he'd be alone in that room for the rest of the night. Come morning, if he were to go to the bedroom, would Bastian be there? . . If that thing laughing really wasn't Bastian, then where was he. . ? And, why was . . the person in that other room saying 'liebe'. . ? Now that he knew that word. . he'd recognize it anywhere, even in the midst of this chaos-- . . . He paused after hearing this, once again trying to listen in - . . He heard his own name, but again that was all he could understand. He wished he was more proficient in German, or at the very least able to process this whole thing better. . faster.

. .Again he tried to tune it all out. It was futile, but he took comfort in knowing he could try. . If it was Bastian, Bastian would find him - he reassured himself. He'd find him. . no matter where he was. And right now, he didn't want to be anywhere near Bastian's sire -- so hid himself on the side of the chair - the one they had sat in together on numerous nights while 'trying to keep warm'. . . Once seated on the cold floor, back against the chair's arm, he pulled his knees into his chest and placed his head down on top of them. He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to see it. . and thought that perhaps staring into the darkness would help with this. . Back here he had a chest - a little box of little 'treasures' he liked to keep in one place - not the bedroom. Bedrooms were always the obvious place, weren't they? And he didn't trust his friends. . that'd be the first place they looked if they ever got. . curious. He broke his position, leaning forward to pull the chest towards him. . opened it. There, on top, folded neatly was the coat he had got from Bastian then - the one with the stitches lose and holes and dirt finding their home in the once elegant and expensive fabric. . He pulled it close to his face, smelled it - there was his own scent, and then. . and it was faint, but Bastian's scent was on it still - probably from some time they spent close by each other. . He didn't smile even though that fact meant a lot to him. He was still too shocked, stunned, even, by the argument that was still going on in the other room. .

He slipped the jacket on - that pathetic excuse for clothing - pulled his knees in once again and stared at the wall, back still against the chair's arm.

. . He heard a door slam. A slightly different sound than the slamming on the desk. . . but it still didn't sound good. He looked down. He'd know now who that other person was. . If it was Bastian or some other creature. . Taking the end of the jacket between his fingers he rolled his fingers around in the fabric a bit, picking at a stray strand of loose thread. . . And there was the sound of the desk being hit once again. He heard his name. . but he said nothing. If it was Bastian, he'd find him. He didn't need to say anything.

Dima only glanced up when he heard Bastian getting closer - heard the footsteps getting a little bit louder. . . When Bastian finally made his appearance Dima glanced up slowly - cautiously - still unaware of who this person was. When he saw Bastian rubbing his hand, though. . . he frowned. Bastian or not it sure as hell looked like Bastian. . and he didn't like seeing Bastian hurt. He was . . concerned.

There was a lot to consider even after Bastian said such kind words. . He wanted to trust this person, whoever they were - but he still wasn't sure. . He had never seen Bastian act that way, after all. . . until he said 'mien liebe'. . That was said . . in such a familiar was. . such a -- . . . He didn't need Bastian to invite him to come. He stood, the stray thread from the jacket dangling almost to the ground. . such a horrible state it was in. He stood in front of the other as he had done before. . didn't say anything - just sniffed. It. . it was Bastian. He trusted himself enough to tell him that. . but he still didn't smile. He was. . far too concerned for that. "You shouldn't do that." He said, placing one hand around Bastian in a half embrace and taking the wrist right above the wounded hand in his own. "Don't touch this." He shook his head to reinforce the point. "Don't. . hurt yourself anymore." . . Though he wasn't referring to the hand.


FACT: I just watched the sun rise while it snowed. ENJOY YOUR WORDS.
-collapse, die.-

[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

(( Five pages, 3,012 words, 19 paragraphs. Christ this took me three hours, I started this at nine D: WHY DID IT TAKE ME SO LONG!?))

In those early nights which seemed so long ago now, Bastian felt very in debt to Dima then. He didn’t have to help hide the young and rather foolish Ventrue from the sun… But he had and he was thankful for it. So the promise of anything was set down before the Russian boy. It was a simple promise, Bastian was a Ventrue – Whatever the shifter could possibly ask for would just be a drop in the bucket. Sure, he didn’t have connections yet, had no name, but he had monetary value… Least that’s how these things started, just as a repayment… Which slowly grew into something with more meaning the more Dima came around. First they’d meet in parks or open areas… Weary of what one may do, but as it progressed and as Dima tested the waters Bastian showed his trust to the other – Eventually leading Dima to his house of the time. It was a small abode but as with all things that seemed to carry over into the common time, it was well set up. He lived comfortably.

The money had no meaning to Bastian, he’d give it and be good on his word, it was the visits that meant more. Sometimes the young man would stay and those where the nights he favored the most… Others he wouldn’t, which he did mind… He’d mind it more now, but at the time it made him fairly sad – Weary that he was being too foolish… But Dima always did come back. When he asked for clothes like Bastian’s all he could honestly do was smile. A Ventrue was naturally captive, not in a beautiful sense but in their commanding and dominating nature – Their presents. It was just natural to give off such an air… But, he hated how Dima dressed… Not because it marked him as a poor man but because he never looked warm in the clothes. “Ja. Ja they are from Germany. It will take a nacht but I can do this for you.” And do he did, and it was the first item he took the greatest care in giving.

He gave it the following night after coaxing Dima back to his home and having him try it on, helping with some parts he wouldn’t know how to put on because, well, he’d never owned clothes quite like these before. With a smile he stood back and folded his arms. “Gud, look fantastic.” He paused but smiled his same charming smile and made a motion around himself. “You… Leave to Russia… Soon, ja? Mm.” He paused to think on how to word what he was wanting to ask. “Welcome to stay in house for rest of stay here… Ah, just mind sun, ja? Then… Maeybe… Could go with you?” He asked carefully, joining his hands together. “Be travel companion… Ehn, vhat is vord? Frand? Be frand… I wish to always be true to you, mein ‘everything’ promise… Und I will follow to keep mien word.” And follow he had… Hell it’s why he was in this very house now, this land… With Dima, still making good on his word with each passing year and enjoying every moment of doing so.

So, his promises would always be kept, no matter what they where he would keep them, no matter what Dima wanted he would have… So long as there was life in Bastian’s body he would do as he said and do for Dima as he wished… And they would have their eternity, come hell or high water they would have their eternity. So the fact Dima took such great care in his look, dressed up so nicely for Aloysius, minded what he did, how he acted… Acted like a good servant should, pleased him… Though he hated to think of Dima in the servant sense, but some things couldn’t be helped among some vampires and he knew that’s how Aloysius was looking at him. Dima, that was. So the fight, in all respects, was a surprise to even Bastian and he was glad to be done with it… Seeing Dima like this bothered him, it made his stomach not and the discontent he held for Aloysius subside for the time being, there would be more nights where they could talk in a far more calm manner… But not this night and not right now. He took a breath as Dima came to him, taking his damaged hand away. Out of nature and need his good arm slid around Dima just to keep him close, kissing the top of his head. ”I am sorry mein liebe, all these years and never once have I flown off the handle as I’ve done this night. It’s natural for my clan to have a temper… But I’ll never treat you in such a way, and this I promise you.” He winced a little at his harmed hand… But over all he’d get over that the following night.

Bastian studied the other, running his hand over the tattered jacket, shaking his head gently. It was in such disrepair and yet he could remember what it looked like when it was brand new. ”You still look marvelous in this jacket Dima, it’s a shame it’s so worn out now… I know it was your favourite.” He commented lightly, rubbing the small of the other’s back as they stood there. The anger was gone and Bastian was tired from it. He hadn’t yelled like that in years after all… And he didn’t remember it could be such a… Stressful and tiring thing. He hadn’t missed this… This odd feeling. It was tired but it was a different kind of tired completely. He remembered feeling like this the very first time he got into a verbal argument with his father… Funny enough over getting married. Funny. ”Don’t mind him now, or his words. He holds no personal vendetta against you, he’s just unsure… As all older vampires tend to be. You did though, make a very good impression and this pleases me.”

Bastian kept his words gentle, along with his movements as he started to take Dima back to the chair. ”He will learn to accept it, I’ve promised you eternity and I plan to make good on my word… But not only for that fact, I want to have you with me in my eternity as I’ve said over and over.” He sat down carefully and with his good arm – though clumsier then if it where done with his dominant arm - drew Dima into the chair with him and held him close to his chest, though his own head rested back on the chair. ”He’ll be back, too… Just to let you know. It’s better we got apart, neither one of us needs to be scrapping so, not here, not in front of you for sure. I hope you weren’t too scared…” He petted the side of Dima’s face gently with the back of his index finger.

Dima’s skin, by now, had grown very fair in color – long gone the days of the boyish tanned solider that stood before him. Not that he minded the change in tone of skin, Dima still looked very charming pale, though he’d always look more filled with life then Bastian, one could see this by how off colored his own skin was next to Dima’s… Again it wasn’t something he minded just something he took note of now. He shook his head and kissed the top of Dima’s head again. ” It’s over now anyway… And I won’t harm myself anymore, please don’t worry.” He carefully placed the harmed hand in Dima’s lap just to keep from hurting it anymore. ”Don’t be afraid or upset anymore, there is no need to be over the events here tonight, I promise.” He nodded once, still petting the others face gently.
He wished he could make up for the yelling but he had no idea how… Save for just working past it, he knew there would be more encounters, more yelling, but he knew… Somehow he just knew he’d never yell at Dima. There was nothing in this world that could make him yell at Dima.

So, the night was shot. It was only middle evening but the fight was such a mood killer that Bastian didn’t feel up to doing much else but sitting there with Dima. ”Just one more mark… Though, this mark is probably the most special of them all. You have to accept it completely, the bond will know if you truly don’t, if you have the slightest bit of doubt about it, it’ll fail… It’s an involved mark, we’re both going to be too mentally shell shocked to leave Prince Zakahr’s keep for the night. He’ll know so he’ll more then likely have a place set up for us to slumber.” The forth mark was so long off now, but he was nervous for it… He didn’t think Dima had been lying to him all this time but… Well everyone had fears and his was that Dima would fail with the mark.

So the following year he’d live it, all be it in secret, like it was their last year together. He’d be sure to not let anything go unsaid and he’d pray for more time… He’d always want more time. Not that such things mattered now, he just felt it was time to be very clear about the final mark since that’s where they where heading after all. Again he kissed the top of Dima’s head, then his temple, just trying to make up for the night in whatever way he could before smoothing a hand over the old jacket. ”I’ll never be able to give you another jacket quite like this, I think, it’s a shame we can’t get it fixed, though I already said that.” Smiles resting his cheek against Dima’s head lightly, playing with the loose string hanging off the jacket now. ”I didn’t think you still had it though, thought you had gotten rid of it since I hadn’t seen it in so long… I’m rather glad I was wrong.” Bastian tilted his head softly to the side.

He was glad for it, for various reasons. Shifting their bodies he gave Dima a one armed hug and kissed his cheek. Up to this point he’d never touched Dima’s lips with his own… And for a moment he thought he may, but, last minute he backed out of the idea. If they manage through the final mark, if all goes well… Dima will know just the feelings he harbored, and then… Perhaps then he’d seek that particular kiss, but not tonight. Later. Later would have to do, so rather then the lips he slid off the cravat and kissed his neck instead, hunching oddly in the chair to bring his head to rest on Dima’s shoulder. It didn’t look comfortable – How he sat now, back and neck bent oddly, his hair displaced because of the odd nature of the body, either trapped behind his back or spilling over his upper arms and shoulders, brushing Dima if Bastian shifted around too much.

”Tell me, mein liebe, how can I make up for this night? I know it has been very stressful for you… So please, please tell me how I can make it up to you. I want to see your charming smile again… I don’t want you to be afraid of me… Like I said… Let others fear me, but not you. I’ll never live with myself if you fear me too.” The last string of words came softly and low, but he knew Dima could hear him… He knew that Dima could hear a lot more then other people seemed to think he could, so Bastian really didn’t mind speaking softly when the time came for it, as it was… Much softer on his throat, the softness was such a welcomed feeling after so much screaming just moments before.

As he waited for some sort of reply, he sat there in silence which allowed his mind to drift around. Dima’s friends worried Bastian in the beginning. He wasn’t sure what they’d do if they found him, they where all Russian soldiers in German land… So the fact Dima was being so kind to something that was the enemy… Was sure to get him into a great deal of trouble. This however didn’t stop Bastian from enjoying his time with Dima. Often they’d walk – After all who knew the land better then the native of it? But he’d always avoid a particular part of the town, the old nobility part of the town… Not something to really take full note of then, but… … What year was that anyway? 1760, wasn’t it?

He should have been 59 then… Or least that’s what his memory told him… Which, well his wife was two years younger, she would have been 57 then, if she was still alive and it was likely she was not… But he was 18 when he had his first Son, the son he knew was for sure his. That would have been… When? 1719…? So then, how old would his son be now? Bastian hid his face a little more in Dima’s neck to hide the furrowed brows while he thought hard on this. If he met Dima in 60, then the first mark was placed in 64, second in 65, and third… This year, making it 66. So his son would be . . . 47, his eldest would be an elder if still alive. The second child would have been 46 and then the third, the girl, 45 – each being born a year from the other. Bastian wasn’t fully sure how he felt about that, he hadn’t really stopped to think about it until a year ago when Dima asked about them… No he had done well to put that part of his life to bed.

But now it was there at the very front of his mind, and he was left with such a mixed feeling on the matter… He didn’t know what to make of it at all. Wasn’t sure if he should be making anything of it, they where from a different part of his life, but he ‘died’ when his youngest was only six… He didn’t see them grow up, and… He wondered… If they had a father at all. Oh surely they did, he couldn’t even fully say if the two other children where his, so she must had remarried without a problem. Maybe… Maybe if they go back to Berlin he’d seek out his eldest son – and if not his living body then perhaps his grave… Maybe he had a family and children of his own too… Maybe. Either way he didn’t like thinking about this, not in the least. His arms moved around Dima’s middle to hold him a little tighter, allowing the other to take it in which ever way he felt like it, Bastian was just seeking some sort of comfort from his own mind in the silence.

He didn’t regret where his life had taken him though, he couldn’t. He had gotten to experience more things then he ever would have in an unhappy lifetime. Not all of it was good but not all of it was bad either… After all, he had Dima and that was a very nice and very good thing from it all. He also had a very ticked off Sire, which he’d eventually have to go make up to… And try and make him understand where he was coming from in a more calm nature. He needed Dima… He… Couldn’t handle Dima aging like that, passing away… Leaving him behind. The thoughts alone where enough to make him want to put himself out in the sun. He would, too. He was so sure that Dima was who he sought for the rest of the unnatural… That he’d end the eternity if Dima’s life was ever ended… Or if he chose to age and pass as all human things do, because… An eternal life was not worth living, nor a broken word was not worth keeping, if Dima wasn’t at his side as he had intended him to be.

That was his… Plan then. If things ended badly, if Dima didn’t take the forth mark… He wouldn’t resent him, no. He’d continue to care for him through his natural life and when it came time for Dima to pass, then he too would pass in the sun – No amount of torpor would bring a dead love back after all… He’d rather attempt to join them, though death even when one was a vampire, was a very scary idea… Journey. The Embrace was scary enough, he could only imagine what the final journey was like.

… Well no, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t allow himself, it was becoming too much of a task to hide his troubled thoughts, his body slightly stiffer from it all, his face still hidden in the other’s neck… And in a attempt to sooth himself, he took in a few low unneeded breaths of Dima’s smell while closing his eyes, such a comfort that smell was, so amazing that it hadn’t changed in all this time… Yet he didn’t think it possible for someone’s natural smell to change – but if it could… He was so very grateful Dima’s had never changed. That it was just the same. Hell, he was grateful time seemed like it would be kind to Dima, too… He still looked so young, not a child… But not his true age either. Least, then, if he had his eternity, he wouldn’t look aged for it. People wouldn’t question him over it… Least not in this era… Later nights, modern nights, perhaps then… But not now, at best they’d have to move every so many years so people didn’t get too… Curious.

After all… We all know what curiosity does to cats, and Bastian… Really… Hated cats.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯

[Sears Nazi]

Дмитрий Иларий Александров

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽⊙☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

The Polkovnik had kept the meeting brief. They had already occupied Berlin. . and they had been struggling to keep it. Makari, that was the Polkovnik's name, didn't even take the time to formally introduce himself - and he was on such friendly terms with so many of the troops under him. . this caused worry alone.

"We've got this far," he began, glancing at the faces which sat out in front of him in the mess hall. These words were met with cheers - cheers which the Polkovnik quickly silenced. "Berlin is, for the time, ours. . " Again he looked out - eyes squinted as he looked about, as though he'd kill whoever decided to cheer next. "It won't be so long if you keep this s**t up!" He threw the sword which rested at his side onto the ground - and stared out again. Oh, they kept silenced this time alright. He rested his hands on the table in front of him, leaning forward, his weight being supported by those hands. . Sweat ran down his brow - not from the warmer weather of Germany but because he just didn't know how to continue. . . He knew the words - knew what he was going to say. . He had spent the previous night practicing, saying them over and over-- . . . It didn't seem right, but it was all that could be done. "I can't be with all of you. I trust you will listen to your Poruchiks. . If they die, I trust you will treat the Podporuchik with the same respect. Treat what they say as though I've said it myself. They are your superiors for a reason." The Lieutenant and sublieutenant. . Quite a few ranks under the Polkovnik, the colonel, but he couldn't be everywhere. He knew it - they knew it. This arrangement would have to do.

"We have taken their capital. . " he said again, calmly this time. "They won't be wearing their uniforms, parading around like they've won the damned war. We have captives, but we don't have the whole bloody lot. You can't trust any of these Germans." He sunk down, weight shifting to his back leg. He leaned forward, arms on the table, head in arms. He rubbed his temples - then moved his fingers over to his eyes. . rubbed them, too. "If you see an able bodied male not in our own uniform or that of our allies. . . take them." He stood up to his full height - resting only one hand on the table. This was the part he had struggled the most over- ". . . If they struggle, kill them. If they so much as lay a hand on you, kill them. Otherwise, take them to me so we can interrogate. . and if that goes badly. . Kill them." He tipped his hat, signifying the end of the meeting before taking his place at the end of the table and beginning to eat his meal. Many of the men had already finished their food during the speech and had begun to clear out.

Dima had been too interested in what the man had to say to touch his food. . so he got up, picked up the sword which had just moments been thrown to the ground, and moved his own belongings closer to the Polkovnik as soon as a seat was cleared. He hadn't the authority to sit anywhere near the end of the table holding no rank of his own - but he had spoken to the Polkovnik on multiple occasions - enough times to know he could get away with it with little more than a slap on the wrist. The man knew what he wanted and often had a way of. . getting these things. . always had a temper. Dima knew it wasn't exactly a time to get chummy with the man, but there were. . things he was unsure of. "Makari," he asked, addressing the man by his name rather than title. Strike one. He placed the sword down at the man's side, smiling a bit -- hoping the man would thank him at the very least. . no thanks came. In fact, he only looked up from his food, otherwise refusing to acknowledge the other was even there. "Makari?" Strike two.

"I already know what you're going to say so just ******** off, Dmitry. Yes, I meant it. Yes, you can do it. No, I don't regret it." He didn't so much as put down his fork. Worse than a parent scolding their child. . or so it felt to Dima, who was still very young. The man was right - all of the questions had been answered. . . but Dima could tell he wasn't being completely truthful. He didn't say anything - and never would say anything about it, either. By the time he had thought to ask the man had already died. The two of them, and whoever else was still around, continued the rest of their meals in silence.

Germany wasn't as cold as Russia but the autumn air was cool enough. It was a very different place - even the buildings looked foreign. He didn't have much on his person - a gun and not even a particularly good one - just a Flintlock Pistol - a light jacket and. . that was about it. He had found himself alone - just wandering, 'scouting' if he wanted to put an official term to it though he wasn't particularly interested in finding these. . able bodied German males. He feared finding one - not because they were the enemy, but because he didn't know if he could follow the orders. . . Makari, no, the Polkovnik - he couldn't bring himself to use his name, not after saying things like that - had given his answer. . It was clear enough what he expected. It was late - he didn't know much about Germans but he knew enough to know that if they were sane they'd be sleeping. After all, in the distance he saw the deep red hues taking the sky-- and as soon as that orb showed itself he could get to sleep. Soon. All too soon.

. . Until he saw somebody. "Where are you from?" he called out, making sure to keep his distance. If it was a Russian, they'd know what he said. . if not. . He drew a little closer. Perhaps they. . just didn't hear him the first time? He hoped that was the case. . God, as long as it wasn't a German things would be okay. Such a curious switch. . there was little problem with killing Germans before - it came easier with time. But those Germans had guns, too - guns pointed at them and it was simply an entirely different situation. Now. . now, he wasn't sure what to do if it was a German. Again he thought about the Polkovnik's words. About how absolute he tried to sound in spite of what Dima could only imagine was his own internal suffering, being the one who had to give this command. .

Oh. . he was certain it wasn't a Russian at this point. It also didn't feel quite. . . human to him - though he was uncertain if it was the scent or the sounds or the sight that gave it away. . He couldn't be bothered by such things, and the mind was good at playing tricks when put into these sorts of situations. He asked again, "Where are you from?" . . but didn't expect an answer. But just incase - juuust incase it was too weak to reply. . He got closer still. Oh, he was certain this. . thing. . wasn't Russian, now. He was also certain it wasn't living -- . . . and, worst yet, worse than it even being German. . . if it even was German. . had an idea of what it was.

He had never come across a vampire before - heard plenty about them, had been warned numerous times about them. . but had never seen one. It fit the description of one, anyway. Maybe it was a German. Maybe it'd be easy to do away with it, then - vampires were such dangerous creatures and hell, if he was helping the Russians it was possible a vampire was helping the Germans, wasn't it. . ? And now there were faint reds and oranges in the sky. . the sun'd be up soon. Because it was a vampire. . it'd be so easy. Just so easy to shoot at it now. Not that it'd do all too much good, but nothing likes to be shot at - and the sun would finish the job. Nice and easy, little guilt on his part, and he'd be doing his job, after all-- . . Why, it was just irresponsible to let a vampire live--

So he reached for the gun. It was cool to the touch, though he suspected the cold air had something to do with it. He wasn't shaking though he was scared. He'd have to do this fast. . oh, he imagined it was possible to. . deal. . with the vampire, but, do it in way he wasn't dealt with first? Should he do it all quickly? . . The vampire would probably react to the sudden movement. Slowly? . . But then it could get suspicious. . His hand just lingered, unsure of what to do. No matter. If he lived, he'd be a hero. If he died, it'd save him from dying in the cold later the way he saw it. He'd just take his chance and -- . . he removed the gun from its harness, finger nowhere near the trigger. . he was still somewhat unsure, after all, and didn't need the vampire to go after him just yet-- . . . He looked at the weapon for a moment - there was a slight shine on the metal. . Oh, they didn't have long. Not at all.

. . He made sure the other was looking and quickly looked up. He'd have pointed, but he didn't want the creature to look. . it could be harmful, after all. The vampire would know the sun would be arriving soon, he hoped he'd get the hint from that movement alone. . . . Hell. It wasn't like he'd be paid for doing any overtime. He was lucky if he'd get any pay at all for the day. As soon as the sun came up he could go to sleep, finally relax. . and he had every intention to do it, especially after that . . conversation they had. Especially after coming in contact with. . this. Sleep would be most. . welcome. He didn't want to do this now. Not right before bed. . thing's get too messy and he'd have to explain it to people before he got to sleep with every little detail. . . Probably wouldn't want to sleep after shooting it, anyway, things like that didn't exactly make a man tired and. . . He shrugged to himself and put the gun back in its proper place. . took another look at the sky, then back to the vampire.

He got closer - he was so close now, close enough that it was definitely dangerous. . . and he pointed at himself. "Dima." Then he quickly amended, "märz," with a beckoning hand. It was the German word for 'march' but the only one he knew that had a similar enough meaning to follow. Always seemed to work on the German troops after all when their commanded hollered it. He didn't really care if the other followed or not, not then. . he was just interested in getting back to his shitty excuse for a room back in their temporary base- one of Berlin's government buildings - and getting some sleep in before the next night. Before he really did have to go and. . maybe. . kill Germans. If he followed. . that'd be fine. The room had windows - windows he could open at any time. If he didn't follow. . one less vampire to be concerned about. He'd just keep walking - no use in looking back to see what the other decided. Either way was. . fine. At the very least he could. . ask . . questions, he supposed, assuming the next night and what came with it didn't kill him first.

. . . What actually ended up happening he. . didn't even think to be a possibility. The vampire didn't stick around - couldn't stick around. . That wouldn't be wise, not on the base -- and Dima didn't have the funds to buy himself a temporary residence. Besides, it had its own house to return to. . a house Dima was informed of and would actually, for some reason or another, end up visiting every now and then eventually. Around this time, Bastian wasn't thought of as 'it' or 'a vampire' anymore. . . he was Bastian. That was the first significant change - but that happened fairly early on.

Before he knew of the location of this house, there had been numerous encounters - meetings in open spaces, spaces he could always claim he was 'patrolling'. . . It interested him enough to keep bothering Makari, asking him if it would be okay to spend that night here or there - like a child asking his father. Makari never seemed to care either way - even seemed pleased by Dima's apparent enthusiasm. . . or perhaps he was just too concerned with other, more important issues to have the time to care - have the time to investigate exactly what Dima was doing and why. When it came to visiting the house. . . Dima was a bit uncertain about what to say to the man. But by then, Makari trusted him. He had done well when he did come back with some information or another - sometimes with a body or two. . and Makari did notice that Dima had this curious and unexplainable habit of vanishing for a couple of days at a time. . but he always came back, so he wasn't worried.

It was only when he began to spend multiple nights away from the base that Makari even thought to question him. There was a simple explanation there, one that Makari bought having been there himself, he was a young lad once. Why, such a simple story: he had found a pretty German girl and they had some late night romps every now and then - he even had the portrait miniature to prove it. It wasn't uncommon - most of the soldiers had some portrait miniature that they carried on their person, after all. Dima's. . . well, Dima had quite a few of them - mostly stolen from dead German soldiers. Pretty things. He'd show these women to his friends, claiming these girls had given those portraits to him to remember them by . . They, for some reason - and he could never imagine why - never believed it. But Makari would get to see the real portrait of his 'girlfriend', the man was like a father to him after all--

. . . Not that he looked very hard. "She has nice hair, Dmitry," he remarked after taking only a quick glance up from the map he had been studying. Nothing more on that. "as long as you do your job you can have all the fun with her you want." Dima was about to tell him that he didn't even look because that was quite obviously a man. . But Makari shooed him off, "If you're going to have fun have fun with her now, we won't be here for much longer. Leave me alone, I need to work somethings out. ." . . And he went back to studying the map. No matter. Perhaps he'd introduce them later.

Hearing that they wouldn't be in Germany for much longer. . . that was something he really didn't want to hear. He was tired of the war, and hearing that they were done was something he had been wanting to hear within days of getting to Berlin, but now that the words had actually been said-- . . . It was around this time that he had asked for the outfit - partly because he was curious to see if Bastian would, partly because he wanted something to remember him by-- . . .

. . . and even he had to admit he looked good in that outfit. He had been admiring it, the fabrics, the vibrant colours and the dyes that made them that must have cost so much - . . . It made him smile though he was sure the friends back at the base would find it rather. . queer. Might even find him something of a traitor - not because the clothing was from Germany, but because it was so. . . elaborate. No matter, he liked it - adored it. . was all too thrilled that Bastian would do such a thing for him. . . and more importantly, that he had something to remember him by. He didn't know that Bastian knew they were leaving soon - he had done everything in his power from letting Bastian know. ". . . Yes, soon. . . back to the Motherland." He tried to smile - returning to one's home was always nice - should be nice, anyway. . . But he had nothing back there - family wise. Oh, there was just so much more here-- . . . It wasn't until Bastian welcomed him to the house that he truly did smile, however, it was somewhat faint. He nodded, "I'll stay. . every night until we have to-- . . . What? No, no I'm sure you're saying it wrong. What you just said makes it sound like you're thinking about going to Russia." Oh, he'd like that though - wished it was what Bastian meant to say-- . . . he almost stopped breathing when Bastian continued.

He took a moment to recompose himself. "I can't promise you anything in Russia." Surely Bastian knew he didn't have much but. . for Bastian to see where he lived? That'd be enough to scare anyone off, he thought. Bastian had more than proven himself - he had no doubts that Bastian would follow him to Russia after he explained his reasoning. . Dima just. . didn't know what to do. His neighbourhood was no place for Bastian. It was no way to repay him after he had shared and given so much already . . But oh, he felt like such a selfish thing. "But I would like it if you came back. I would like it very much." Then he added, perhaps trying to clear his conscious, ". . . but you'll have to find yourself a nice place to live once we get there. Alright? . . And you already were my. . frand." . . The last word made him smile - he liked the sound of it, liked it more when Bastian said it. . . liked it even more when he tried to copy that accent and failed horribly.

---------------------
. . . Many good memories in that house.

. . . And some scarier ones, too.

Dima didn't know how to comfort Bastian even though Bastian was doing such a good job at comforting him! 'It will be alright' sounded pointless, 'You did the right thing'. . ? He didn't know if the right thing had been done or not. The whole thing still made him uncertain - made him uneasy. He was glad Bastian was still around - glad it was, in fact, Bastian that had found him and not 'it', or, 'the vampire'. . . ". . Don't . . be sorry," . . he supposed he should start there. If Bastian was just doing what had to be done. . he had no reason to be sorry, did he? . . He was even somewhat bothered that Bastian felt that way, and still somewhat upset at himself for thinking, even if only for a minute, that it wasn't Bastian. . It was still Bastian, just. . what he'd be calling other Bastian from then on. "I am sorry for leaving just then, I couldn't -- I didn't know what -- . . ." . . He didn't have the words, "Scared. I was scared." . . Which took more to admit then he ever would have thought.

". . It is still my favourite, though, I still think it looks charming - just as nice as when you gave it to me. Just. . for different reasons, now." He enjoyed being so close to Bastian - such a comforting feeling. It was enough - enough for him to know that things would be okay. He did like the praise though - liked knowing he had done well, especially after trying so hard but not having any rewards coming from it. "I am glad you think I did well. I did try - I tried very hard." No use denying the truth. "Although . . and I do trust you - God, I trust you - I hope he will accept it. .and I hope it will be soon." He shook his head - perhaps that wasn't right. . but the whole thing left him mentally exhausted - his ears were still ringing. He . . didn't want to deal with something like that ever again.

. . But Bastian made it almost worth while. Sitting like that - as they were at that moment. . If an eternity meant more of that he wished it'd come sooner. Wished these. . . issues with Bastian's sire would sort themselves out soon. . Wished there was some way to spend the entirety of the year like that - as they were then - until the forth mark was possible, only to continue where they left off. "When he comes back. . " . . More words he was uncertain of. Why did he continue? ". . . I'll try to stay there with you. It was scary - the whole thing was scary, but. . I think, being alone in here. . however briefly it was. . and not knowing if you'd come find me. . was scarier."

"I . . will still worry, though. I seem to be doing that a lot, now." . . . And it was interesting, to him at least, how much he found himself worrying. Worrying about what would happen to him. . a lot of things could go wrong in a years time, after all -- . . . He worried about Bastian in general. That day they had first met - he never thought something like that to be possible. Caring for. . 'the vampire'. . What if he had left Bastian to die, then? . . It bothered him, thinking about that. About how he wouldn't have cared - if he was still alive to this particular day, that was - because it was just . . . well, some vampire. Knowing Bastian. . then thinking back -- . . . He was glad he made the decision he did, especially because it could have gone so wrong.

. . . The last mark. .should have been another cause for worry and concern, but it wasn't - at least not to the extent that it should have been. That was it - he had to be sure on that one, and he was still so young. . there was no way to just back out of it once it happened. . and if eternity lasted a bit too long, well, he couldn't do anything about it or Bastian would suffer too. He knew that if they were to go through with it right now. . . right now there'd be no problems. And oh, he wanted to go through with it. "It's just one," he said. "We've already been through it three times." He knew what Bastian had said - knew this one was far more involved than any of the ones before. . and he wasn't keen on being anywhere near Prince Zakahr for longer than he needed to be, but. . He relaxed a bit more, leaning back further, "I think. . the first one was the hardest of them, and. . I think it will stay that way." . . The first brought the most uncertainty, after all - becoming involved in this. . new world. Each mark was a bit easier . . the forth one. . it'd work. Everything would happen as it was supposed to and they'd begin the first of many, many new tomorrows.

. . He liked the attention he was getting that night. He'd return some if it - kissing and hugging to the best of his ability. . more kissing than usual, just because he had been so scared earlier-- . . . He had almost forgot that he was wearing the jacket, so lost was he in this particular moment. It really was more charming like that - worn down and broken in. "Of course. . I kept it," he said. "I've kept everything you've given me if they are things possible to keep. I'd have kept every coin you gave me too if I didn't need to spend them, just. . because they're from you, and that means more than the item itself is worth, you know." He nodded slowly.

. . He did smile at Bastian's next words. "What can you do?" He pondered it for a moment. The cravat was already gone and dealt with. What to say, what to say. . He grabbed a stray piece of Bastian's hair, held it for a moment before letting it fall-- . . it made him laugh. Such a curious position. "You don't need to make it up to me. And I am not afraid of you - not when you're like this." He paused, still smiling . . . But added, somewhat somberly, "It did scare me, like I said. . But it's new. The first mark scared me too. I know. . it's still you, and I know you'll . . be there, you'll find me and. . . " he shook his head. It was silly, wasn't it? "Just. . just keep doing that. That's what you can do for me."

[DeliriumNitemare]

xxxx♕Bastian Skeffington♕xxxx

♕♕

✯ Regere sanguine, regere in veritatem est. - To rule through blood is to rule in truth✯

It bothered Bastian to hear Dima was scared… But he really couldn’t be surprised by that, not after the display. ”I’ll always come for you, no matter what happens.” He watched Dima play with his hair, chuckling softly. He worried for his Sire but knew the man was aged enough to hide himself. ”Come, it’s time to sleep.” And with ease he stood, picking Dima up as he did so and made his way to their bedroom. Sire there or not, he wouldn’t send Dima away. No, he’d grown too use to the bed and Dima being in it. So he… ‘dressed’ them both for bed, which had over time become less and less fabric between them… Not that either seemed to voice a upset over this. Into bed Bastian slid and carefully drew Dima with him. ”Tomorrow evening will be calmer, you’ll see… I promise.” Kisses his neck lightly while drawing Dima’s body close to his own.

The rest of the year went as the years before had gone. He did for Dima, he spent his time with Dima, and he was true to himself in not letting anything go unspoken. Time moves so fast when one is happy, and these by far had been the happiest years of Bastian’s life, he was blessed for each, and he hoped he’d continued to be blessed in the years to come… People passed away this year, and not only Dima’s but some people Bastian had known. Other humans, vampires he had known since he was sired. News he had gotten wind of by chance… And couldn’t do anything about because he was so far away from home… So very far. He hoped one day to correct this, and if it wasn't for Dima he didn't think he'd get through the pain from the loss.

As their final days apart drew to an end, Bastian did invite his Sire to the forth mark… And to much of his surprise, he did agree to come, he was there… And Bastian was in some ways thankful. Now it all depended on this very important night. Both of them where dressed to their finest, in outfits that Bastian had got long ago and they never touched and probably would not dawn again unless there was truly something remarking on. As tonight was, tonight… Was a make or break.

The Prince’s throne room was dimmer then normal, candles set around the room, yet the center was probably the most well lit of them all. The whole court was there, along with the Prince, who too was dressed very elaborately for the night. Everything just seemed more done up, more elaborate… And in some sense, it was almost like they where getting married but with completely different rules and vows. The Prince crossed his legs and gently motioned them to come stand in the center, which Bastian did and guided Dima to do too. There was a knife on the floor by Bastian’s feet and between them a popped out tile revealing a drain for the extra blood.

Bastian swallowed as he stood there with Dima… And if he where alive his heart would have been pounding a mile a minute and half way up this throat now. He was afraid, as anyone in his spot would be, he was scared this would all end up being a lie, that Dima lied and that their affections…. Where just a fabrication. With shaking hands Bastian smoothed out his shirt compulsively, least until the Prince made a motion with his hand, as if to give Bastian a push… And it did, it made Bastian look down at Dima softly but there was an odd show of fear in his unnatural green eyes.

First the coat was taken off, then the under vest followed by his cravat, then the white gloves which he held and last the elaborate white button down shirt which hid under it all. Each item taken off and tossed to the side lightly, to keep them out of the way of things so they wouldn’t become dirty… Just incase things took a turn for the absolute worse…. Just incase.

Bastian stood before Dima now, bare from the waist band of his pants up, presenting himself to the boy just as he was, as he had been, as Dima had seen him before. Alabaster skin which just seemed to only serve to make his hair seem all the brighter, all the more like fire. Carefully he reached out and stroked Dima’s cheek with the back of his hand gently, swallowing, he wanted this… He had to do this, he was just scared it would be the end and this would be the last honest touch he’d have with Dima. He drew in a shaking breath. ” With my first mark you where forced to heed my call. With the second mark, I saw through your eyes and came to you when you where in need. With the third mark I drank your blood and you received some of my power and resilience. With the fourth mark… You will share my immortality.” He glanced at the Prince, who just nodded his head.

Bastian almost looked like he’d cry as he went back to gazing at Dima, swallowing. He knelt in front of Dima carefully, resting his forehead to his chest. Kissing it in a pathetic way, stalling, scared, no one wants to be betrayed… And he didn’t want to only have happy memories. Reaching to his side now, he picked up the knife that had been placed their prior. He lifted the blade and turned it onto himself, and with a clean motion he cut into his own chest a wide cut, which soon became a second cut creating a cross. As the blood began to pour from the opened wound, Bastian tossed the knife aside and looked back up at Dima. ” This mark is voluntary.” Bastian said through the pain as he held Dima’s arms weakly, all the while bleeding.

”Drink from me and feel my power, feel my past, know everything I know and share your past and your knowledge with me. You will know all my secrets, my truths, and my lies. My pain and my shame…” He nodded taking a shallow breath. ” And you will be bound to me by all eternity. One soul, your soul, shared in two bodies.” And then carefully he stood back on his kneels looking sober, though through all his worry… He smiled. ” It is your will to accept these gifts, Dima.”

If Dima did accept the mark willing, drinking from Bastian as he was instructed to do, they’d go into a ‘mental shock’. Dima would be downloading decades of memories, fears, thoughts, hopes, dreams, everything and anything that made Bastian who he was… Who he IS… All his secrets, his truths, his lies… His wrongs… His desires. What he truly felt of Dima, how he truly loved him, how he was so scared now… They’d come together as one. One would feel as the other did, when they where scared, lonely, lost…. Can see through their eyes, speak to them without being near them. They’d be physically taxed, mentally exhausted and in pain. The mental strain alone could very well make them sick from the pain, even Bastian even though in retrospect he was getting far less in memory storage then Dima, simply because Dima had lived such a short life compared to Bastian… and it would take a night or two to even recover from the bond, to adjust… To understand it as it would need to be understood. They’d truly know the other so completely, that words lack the ability to spin the proper detail of such a bond.

What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine.

The court waited with bated breath, the Prince… Who had seen this all too often before fail, waited too, waited as he always had with these things… And waited with hope this one wouldn’t fail for this vampire… Especially a Ventrue, they where nasty when crossed. Aloysius waited too, with arms folded and head slightly tilted, he still didn’t fully stand behind it… but watching his Childe pour his heart and soul into it… Was enough to make him stay right there and wait… And hope Dima wasn’t a damn fool.

✯You will do as I say, or you will die as I say.✯