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 Posted: Sat Aug 26, 2006 6:19 pm
Everything was dark, and it smelled of rat droppings and mildew. Even with his eyes as open as he could manage, he could see nothing at all. Like he had suddenly and inexplicably had gone blind. His limbs felt leaden, completely numb save for a screaming pain that only made itself known when he tried to move. Like he had fallen asleep at an awkward angle, and the limbs had fallen asleep, save for the pressure that told him he needed to move, and the pain when he actually did try.
There was a soreness around his neck, but as he rocked forward away from the wall he was leaning against, the reason became clear. There was a large clamp around his neck, attached to the wall. The chain fell with a heavy thud against his back. Where was he?
Reaching up, he threaded his fingers through his hair, suprised to find no horns, and curious fingers traced the shell of small round ears. He couldn't reach behind him to find his tail, his wrists were also held by heavy metal clamps chained together. His legs, as far as he could tell, were still free. He clutched at the loose shift swaddling his body. He could feel rips, feel the dinginess of it, but found no dried liquid. He wore no pants.
There was a tinny clatter to his right. Glancing there he could see a sliver of light where the door was. Someone's face peered through the crack, clean but unshaven, with worried brown eyes. He tossed something onto the floor.
"Aidez-moi..." He rasped, suprised at how hoarse his voice was. He reached toward the figure in the light, "S'il vous plait, aidez-moi." The figure looked suddenly unsure, brown eyes swimming with uneasiness. A shadow passed behind the figure in the sliver of light. Those brown eyes immediately hardened as he spit toward him.
"Ordures!" and the light dissappeared.
There was scratching somewhere nearby, the tiny many scratches of small feet belonging to...dogs? Rats? RATS!
He lunged toward the door, sore fingers scrabbling at the floor which he determined to be stone. The uneven surface tore at his questing fingertips as he moved toward something he knew not what, to find the doorway, anything. In the darkness the scratches became crashingly loud, the ache in his fingers and his shoulders almost unbearable. He hit something smooth and metalic. Stopping suddenly, he grasped at the object, which he determined to be a plate. It had a roll in it, and a small square of beef.
It vanished into a mouth that did not know it was hungry as he shuffled closer to the light, only to be held back by his throat. The chain! He wasn't even allowed to touch the threshold, held cruelly back to the far wall he came from. He crumpled to the floor, arms stretched to the door.
"S'il vous plait! S'IL VOUS PLAIT!!" He hollered with sudden force, but knew it was futility. The rock was cool against his cheek, the poking of smaller pebbles not bothering him.
He imagined verdent fields, of warm sunlight over a palazzo made of orange stone, smooth and expensive. The melodies of his youth filtered into his mind again, sung by boy's choirs, and his blond mentor standing beside them, in a cloak of the most gorgeous green velvet...The smell...The smell was thick and sweet...
Darkness filtered into his mind, like the outside invading his psyche as he lost himself to sleep.
Braeden awoke, shivering and crying as he had weeks ago.
But this time, someone was there to answer. Micah opened the door to the lanturn's room, casting the boy in the glow from the hallway. He was tangled in his bedsheets, and had crawled off the bed onto the floor, and lain there, with his arms stretched to the doorway.
"Braeden?" Micah asked, watching silver eyes swirl into focus, bewildered and frightened.
"M-m-micah?" Braeden asked in reply, drawing himself up to a sitting position, and curling his arms up to his chest, wrists crossed. Tears streaked down the dark umber cheeks, undammed. This time though, Micah didn't dismiss him, didn't leave with a sarcastic or cynical biting remark. This time he didn't pretend to not care.
The teenager decended beside the lanturn, with whom he'd always shared a special connection. Braeden was raw and honest, his very soul as exposed as any human's skin. He glowed anew with fervor as the boy lunged toward Micah, landing in the teen's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.
Skin hit skin, and the unbridled pain of Braeden's dream hit him like a baseball bat smack against his chest. Braeden began to sob quietly into his shirt.
"Braeden?" A new voice chimed in. Dian stood in the doorway, in his nightclothes, ears perked at attention. Micah and Braeden were curled around one another, knotted in the bedsheets on the floor. It would have seemed naughty, save both were clothed, and both very obviously in distress.
"Dian, what the ******** has been happening to him?" Micah asked angrily, casting accusing eyes toward the coon.
"Il s'est produit encore!" Braeden shouted at him suddenly, and Dian shook his head,
"I'll explain it to you in the morning, Micah, for now, let's try to see if we can get Braeden to go back to bed."
"Don't leave me tonight, please. I don't want to return." Braeden said quietly. Micah turned questioning eyes to the spirit in his arms. Braeden turned the gaze to Dian, who nodded aquiescingly. Braeden drew a calming breath,
"Tonight, it started in a room..."
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Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 11:14 am
The dawn found the three tangled in Dian's expansive bed. Laying spread out on deep navy sheets, Dian was on the left, his arms lifted and curled behind his head. Bright golden eyes were lidded as the coon slumbered on peacefully, exhausted from his night's vigil. Braeden was in the middle, curled up beside the two others facing Micah. His head was on the teen's chest, but he sprawled over Dian, his long spade tail twined threefold around the man's right leg.
At first he slept fitfully, but the heat from his two bedpartners calmed the spirit into a more tranquil respite, and now he slept, as easily as an infant, only slight twitches of his brows indicating his state of being. The last reminders of his dream bled away as he fell deeper into unconciousness, unable to be dragged back without considerable effort, one Braeden was unwilling to concede to the strange and haunting vision. Weren't dreams supposed to be unable to produce feelings of physical pain? Some entity was playing cruel jokes on him.
Micah lay to the right, twined slightly to the side. He was curled protectively around the young spirit, one of his hands buried in the bright orange hair that reflected Dian's through and through. It could get mussed beyond all measure and still look vaguely the same. The other hand lay at rest on his slender abdomin, lifting and falling with his breathing. It would be the first time Micah ever woke up in the same bed as another, and in a way be more emotionally potent to him than the acts of comfort he made before.
The silver haired youth slept on with the others, still riding on ebbs of Braeden's dreams, lapping like salt water on the shore. The pleasant feeling kept his own torments at bay, at least for tonight. Micah would find later to his suprise, his own demons were staved off when he helped others. Their emotions and grace chased his depression away. He never would have imagined it himself, knowing all his life that the thought of touching another, aiding another repulsed him. Even the tatoo artist's hands gliding over the smooth planes of his back slick with ink and blood made him shiver until he was told such movement would wreck the wrought black wings stretching across his back. Needless to say, that stilled the youth, though his face twisted into a grimace. That scowl he was known for was strangely absent now, instead he looked almost pleased.
The first eyes to flutter open to meet the dawn were molten silver. Blearied with sleep, they fought to find focus but sharpened instantly when he realized he was not in his own bed. It quickly softened as the memories from the night before returned to him, and he ran a dark hand along Micah's side, hearing a happy sigh at the gesture. He was home, beside his adoptive brother and father, his companions who deeply cared for him, and he was safe. Braeden smiled serenely, he was safe. He looked up at Micah for a moment, his own smile broadening at the easy expression crossing his friend's face.
Sleep tugged at his eyelids, the warmpth of the beedsheets and his companions dragging his concious thought down into darkness. Braeden yawned mightaly and shifted only slightly, to drape an arm around Micah and nuzzle down further. Soon enough the spirit succumbed to the call of slumber, his worries falling away like flecks of sand blown in the wind, leaving all three occupants of Dian's bed with gentle smiles lasting even in sleep. And so, despite the onset of dawn, Coon, Empath and Spirit slept on.
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Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 12:48 pm
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Posted: Thu Jan 18, 2007 1:23 pm
Braeden goes to a Vampire LARP XD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chegrin Braeden was traveling the streets at night, trying to find a place to wait out the darkness, and hopefully meet some new people. He looked young for his age, and exotic for being in England. Dark skin was tinged with red, and sunkissed to a lovely golden hue. He had bright orange hair, a tribute to his part european heritage, that bounced around his face as he walked. It obscured his face partially, hiding one of his silver eyes that flashed like molten silver. His brows were lightly dusted in shiny powder, and his lips were kissably soft. Braeden seemed as at home in the darkness as a vampire, though he was still human. Shadows did not scare him, though with his bright eyes he seemed to exude his own vivacious glow. He was healthy, happy, and entering the prime of his life. Scarf drawn down against the chill, his long ponytail wrapped in black cotton fell to his waist, the tail bouncing against his rear end, the orange tip drawing attention downward. His trusty quarterstaff had been slightly dissasembled, turning a staff into a cane by means of a clever blacksmith who augumented it so the end could be reattached or taken off as situation demanded. His father would be angry, but by this point Braeden could not care. Dark fingers twined around the curling horns of his cane's ram head top as he walked in silence, lost in his thoughts with a wistful smile gracing his face. Soon though, a carraige blazed past him on the road at a breakneck speed. He thought he saw down the road a large dog running after it, but it veered into the woods. It was all the same, dogs chased carraiges all the time. He smirked as he thought of why the occupants were in such a hurry and continued to walk on his way to the ball room. Ichigo_Kitten It was that moment Marxus decided to enter the ballroom. He had seen the lupine rush off into the forest, but the thought of warm lush bodies overpowered his curiosity. He smiled, the fragrance of many live bodies filling his nostrils. He moved down the stairs, enjoying the way the women reacted to him, their eyes glistening with interest. The party was ending but there was still plenty of delectable treats left. He smiled at a particularly tasty looking one, his eyes turning a warm gold color. She blushed scarlet and fanned herself, her brown eyes looking invitingly up into his. It was then HE walked in. He gave off a smell like no other, a smell that drove Marxus mad with desire for his blood. He was in the prime of his life, with orange hair and a golden tan. His eyes were filled with molten silver, and Marxus could feel himself pulled into them. He must have him. Chegrin Braeden fit right in with the guests in the ballroom. While he was not as wealthy as them, he observed them, and could mimic their behaviors. His suit, while simple, was well made and clean. Molten eyes flashed with his pleased mood as he mingled through the crowd surrounding the dance floor, shorter than most of the male patrons, but taller than the women. He stood right about the middle, waifish enough to be femminine for the dominant men, but tall enough to still be attractive to women. He wasn't flirting around though, it seemed tonight he was just there to observe again. Sliding free of the bodies tightly packed around the dancefloor, he found a table slightly away from the others, but not in a corner. It was one of the few that did not have someone else's things on it. He set his cane against the table but did not remove his scarf, though his pulse was starting to speed with heat. He spotted the tall darkhaired gentleman in the crowd, just barely detecting eyes of golden fire. Braeden smiled without meaning to--the fellow was handsome. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus watched as the man's eyes flashed on him and he smiled back, watching the man flush with color. He purred as he watched the man watch him, and he had to admit he was quite fetching for a mortal. Perhaps he didn't have to feed off of him quite yet, there were plenty of soft mortal women in his grasp.... Something flitted inside him unbidden, warm and surprising against his dark cold heart. He growled and pushed the feeling away. Why did he have to be so damn handsome? He thought as he made his way towards the man. Chegrin They met eyes across the crowd, and smiles matched one another. For a brief moment, Braeden almost felt the purr as a rumble of power that pulsed through the bodies in the room. He blamed the bass player, but leaned back to recline on the chair, looping his arm over one end. His long ponytail tuft dropped from his shoulder to swing behind him, an enchanting little orange puff on the end of a black rope. Braeden had thought the smile would be the end of it. He saw the way the women toyed at the other man's clothes, how they flushed and colored, turning pink beside him. He was already vibrant and tan, but the heat that rose to him only served to liven him, tinging him ever slightly, ever subtly. To a creature confined to the night, it must have been quite an exotic treat to see such a sunkissed delicacy. To touch through him the thing so long denied. But he was wrong. The tall gentleman began to weave toward him, ignoring all others in his way. He began to feel a little excited. The man had a smooth gait, a predatory gracefullness and steady sight lacking in most people. Braeden was the prey, his family symbol a ram, a herbivore. The natural order had found them too it seemed. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus weaved his way towards Braeden, his smile turning slightly predator. A warm lush scent came off his skin, like a exotic and delicate treat. But this wasn't the cold, hard hunger that took him. It was inflamed and passionate, his craving having a sensual edge. He was different, not like the silly soft mortal girls who fawned over him or the jealous young bucks who resented their attention on him. He was feminine, almost delicate, but still masculine. His long orange hair bounced on his rump invitingly, his silver eyes observing him quizzically. Reaching the man, Marxus extended one pale hand, flashing his devastating smile and his golden eyes flashing. "Hello, I am Marxus. What a pleasure to meet you." He started with his silky voice... Chegrin With every step the man approached, Braeden fought to supress the urge to twitter and fawn the way women were want to do. At the same time, he did not want to seem standoffish. So he sat, and he smiled, and graced the man with a very interested gaze. With every inch the man approached, Braeden wanted him more. The ladykiller smile and golden eyes to counter his own almost took his breath away. Closer up the gold became almost radiant, sparkling with unnatural beauty. They weren't yellow tinged hazel eyes but truely golden enough to rival the sun. From his leg his own hand emerged, warmed from the room and the passion just dancing between the two of them to take the pale man's hand, to slide across the chilled and smooth skin, like rubbing a piece of soft marble. The man's voice was pure milk. Lily white and smooth, a tender seducer's voice. Braeden's own was higher but sweet and a little innocent, but not obnoxiously so. He could mimic the people here, but truly knew little of what went on during the nightlife. He knew little of the more sensual arts, or the feverish grips of passion and lust. He dreamed of them, and like a dream did Marxus walk right up to him and introduce himself. "Salutations. I am Braeden, the pleasure is all mine." Braeden's name was an irony to his nature. It meant to be born in the dark valley, as his soul was, though his body belonged to the earth and to the sun. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus felt that warm pink hand slide into his, and he fought the urge to take it and kiss it. The man was no more than a child, innocent of the art of sensual pleasures. He saw it in the way he flushed and flittered nervously to Marxus' trained eyes. He felt something, long lay dormat from his years as the undead stir and rumble like a beast awakening. It was his mortal nature, not destroyed over the years but merely oppressed. It stirred at the memory of passionate nights and hands moving, elicted from Braedens warm hands, for even vampires are not immune to the passion that inflames mortal men and women. Before Elena he had spent many a night feeling the warm body of another, made ever so more delicious by his heigtened senses. Putting his can down besides him, he lightly grazed his cheek, smiling as goosebumbs rose, knowing he had him completely. He never guesses Braedon would take his own shriveled cold heart in return. Chegrin Braeden would not have minded such manners, to feel the cold kiss of fangs against his skin as a tantalizing teaser to a fate he'd long hoped for. His father would be ashamed of him to the highest degree, cavorting not in fancy ballrooms, but for not being his own seducer, instead allowing his heart to be taken by none other than a vampire. But his father was in italy, and he was in London, so none of that mattered now but his own desires. Marxus was correct in knowing he'd captured Braeden's mind and his heart with such simple small gestures. Even if they parted ways now and never saw each other again, the vampire would be in his mind until the end of his days, which sadly would end long before the vampire's own. Who then would remember him? The simple glass smith with firey hair and a laugh that resembled the wind? His skin blazed under Marxus's hands even as goosebumps rose to the touch, like he had laid a trail of gasoline that had been set afire. "Would you...?" His voice was a soft sigh in the din of the crowd. "Would you care to dance, Marxus?" To the knowing eye, his pulse could be seen drumming against his scarf like a caged bird, to be freed later...later, when the moment was right to feel the soft fabric trace his skin and lifted away. Later perhaps when cool lips would find him. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus saw a range of emotions flit across his Braedens face, ranging from indecision to a burning want that mirrored his own. Looking up, Braedon parted his lips and said. "Would you like to dance Marxus?" He asked, his voice soft with desire. Marxus wanted to take him right there, make him his immortal companion, and the room seemed to light, to crowded. But he reigned in his desires and took the inviting hand. "It would be my pleasure." He said, a slow smile spreading on his face. Chegrin The only regret Braeden would have had to such a forceful and sudden posession would be all the unwilling and unwanted spectators. He was an observer, not an exhibitionist. The thought of being a nude model for some skilled artist had crossed his mind more than once, but these people were not deserving. Braeden lifted his hand as it was grasped by the immortal child of the night and he stood, leaving his and Marxus's cane by the table. "Good. I'm glad." Braeden butted his way through the throng of people yet again, this time leading the man who had found him back out onto the dance floor. It was a varnished mahogany, a deep rich and dark wood that reflected the dancers atop it, so there was a ball above and a ball below. The mirrored guests seemed to have a good time too. The dance on right now was a swift dance, with the pairs all turning in a calculated formation. He'd seen this one dozens of times, and while he hadn't done it yet himself, he was eager to try. His warm hand grasped Marxus' in a self reassuring gesture as he waited for a break to jump in. Finally, he spotted an empty place in the dancers where a pair had fallen out to retire for drinks, and like a cog in a well made bit of machinery, Braden lead them to slip into place with ease. He turned up his face to the vampire as he let his hand slide along his arm to rest atop his shoulder, the other naturally lifting with their fingers laced together. He fell into the female role of the dance like it was the most natural thing to do, and beamed at Marxus. Soon the music struck up again, and it was time to move. Ichigo_Kitten They slid gracefully across the floor, ignoring the stares of the other dancers as they watched the unconventional pair; the two men, one a pale ethereal ghost and the other a vivacious blazing man. They slid and twirled, Marxus taking the male role naturally as was in his dominate nature. Braedon beamed an all too mortal smile, a ray of sunshine inwillingly warming his heart. He didn't ask for this, too fall so violently into mortal passion, but there was not turning back to flow of time and hand of fate, and besides he was having much too fun to stop. As the song ended , he leaned forward ever so gently and whispered into Braedon's ear. "These events bore me. Shall we take our conversation into more...private quarters?" Chegrin The dance was ephemeral to the young man, as his joy sped things along in his mind. The entire evening was seeming surreal to him, like at any moment he'd wake up in his room with the dawn peeking at him, and he'd spend another day working. But no, the hand firmly clasping his waist was real, the other entwined in his was real, the force leading him and guiding him along the floor was real. He skated with Marxus, much better than the others, he selfishly thought, because he had the best dance partner. The entire thing left him buzzing with joy, but before he could even let go of his pale companion to return to the table, the voice came again to him, softer, in his ear, breath grazing the shell. A sudden rising of fear made his eyes fly wide. The moment of truth had come to this; if he refused, would Marxus let him go? Like blinks of eyes his thoughts flashed warnings spoken to him. Would he wind up dead in some allyway? Would he just be used to be abandoned the following day? Or would he be kept as some pet to be shown off, broken spirited and weak? As horrible as those thoughts were, the opposite shone at him, and Braeden found he could not refuse him. "Yes, please." Was his whispered reply. Caution be damned, he wanted this. Braeden stepped back from the strong frame that held him and moved to go find their canes. He would not leave without it. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus had sensed his hesitation and for one moment almost feared he would refuse him. If he did he would have been crushed but would have let him go, contrare to his usual behavior of take no prisoners. After they had found their canes they slipped out of the ballroom and into the dark street. It was a sharp contrast between the warm light spilling out with the tinkling of voices and the harsh darkness outside. Putting one arm around Braedon's waist and smelling that damnable smell of his, he lead him to Marxus' London quarters. His two bedroom apartment was rich and lustrous, but with the appearence of being unlived it. The double bed was neatly made, with a emerald green comforter and plush pillows. A fireplace lay dead in front of two chairs and a couch, and the walls hung artfully with portraits and tapestries. A small door led to a bathroom untouched. Leading him to the couch, Marxus buried his head into Braedon's soft hair and merely sighed. It was the first time in a century he had felt a shadow of joy. ((Ha no biting for Braedon, I am sorry but I have to make it a little difficult like I said. Don't worry he will get bitten just not...now)) Chegrin ((He can wait. :3)) If anything, Braeden felt safe beside the tall gentleman. Once they had settled into the walk, the hand placed securely on his waist, he felt as though whatever bad may come their way, whatever random marauders or bloodthirsty but uncaring vamps may find him delectable, he would be alright as long as Marxus was beside him. He was thankful for the cool night to calm him down and lower his feverish heat. It was a clear evening with just the slightest breeze. His scarf tales flapped like black wings from time to time behind him, but otherwise was still. The walk was brief but sweet, all the while marveled at just what he was getting into. "My word..." He exclaimed softly at his companion's apartment. He was impressed in the extreme with the quality of taste here. Others were gaudy for gaudy's sake, spewing things and other things every which way, crammed into every corner to fill the emptiness in noblemen's hearts. The only things worth mention in Braeden's den were his creations, delicate glass sculptures worth small fortunes each, but most never sold. The nobility rarely got down to his shop. The hand was pressing and like a leaf he followed it, decending artfully onto the plush couch beside Marxus. His cane was set to the side, and warm hands traced the material fondly. He leaned into Marxus and released a sigh that mirrored the older man's. Slowly his hand crept from the couch onto his thigh, tracing random patterns along the material of his pants. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus smiled at Braedons transparent lust, a lust that he didn't quite understand himself. Leaning in, he gently kissed those lips, feeling the heat emanating from the man as he blushed scarlet. Smiling to himself Marxus held him closer, making sure not to crush him with his supernatural strength. He felt Braedon trace patterns on his thigh and he slowly unwound his scarf. Pressing his cold lips to his neck, he caught the trail end of a passing thought. Marxus cannot exactly read minds. Centuries of honing the ability to read mortals have left him with the strange ability to read them so well he can pratically say what their thoughts were. Between his muddled haze of passion he heard a small voice of indesicion, a fear of being killed or used by Marxus. He froze. That in itself was not what stopped him, any mortla would have some fear, no matter what. But that pause allowed a silken cold voice, the voice of his immortal instinct come in. (What if he's only using you? What if the novelty of your immortality dissapates after he is one himself?) He tried to ignore the voice but it pressed against him taking advantage of that momentary crack. (Remember Elena?....) The metnion of that named caused him to jump off tha couch. Just thinking of her made all pain rush back. He saw the confused expression on his companions face, but for a moment all he saw was blue eyes and soft curves, the face of his betrayer. Marxus, confused as doubt flooded him, gave a strangled cry of hurt, lust and pain, and rushing out of the building, he ran towards the slum to get his mind straight. Chegrin Braeden's mind went hazy with desire as his face was tilted upward and their lips connected. He turned more to face the dark gentleman known to him only as Marxus, but it let him slide his leg over one of his thighs, in a half straddle. Marxus responded in kind, drawing him in closer, talented hands moving to his black scarf and gently drawing the fabric away. His heartbeat had leapt up again in pace, until he almost felt dizzy. His breath hitched when chilled lips pressed to his frantic pulse in a smile. Was this the moment? Was this the night his days in the sun would end? Braeden curled his arms around his pale companion's shoulders, letting his fingers slip through his dark hair. Marxus had fallen still for a few conflicting moments, holding him but motionless. Then without prompt or warning he jumped from Braeden's arms with frightening speed, toppling the young man backwards. He fell onto his cane which jabbed his side, and caused him to release a soft startled cry. It was forgotten as he stared into Marxus' golden gaze, and saw the eyes of a horribly betrayed, focused at him. Marxus looked...He looked afraid. Of him? "Wait!" Braeden cried, but without heeding his words, Marxus turned and fled his apartment. Braeden grabbed his cane and persued, wincing from the bruise now purpling his side underneath his clothes. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus was *very* cranky. He was draining the mortal and for some reason instead of finishing the job he had stopped before he was fully drained, thus not fully satisfying his thirst. It was like he chickened out the last second. He was no fledgling, he had spent more than a hundred years perfecting his hunting skills. The man was unconcious but not dead, he could sense that. He could also feel a man besides him rapidly saying prayers. 'Foolish religious man.' he thought with a sneer as he continued towards his destination, sure to skirt around the other vampires around him. Running his hand through his hair he sighed as Braedons face flashed in his mind. Opening the parcel, he uncovered a delicate glass ball that has the scent of Braedon all over it. In a sudden flash of rage he flung the thing across the street, hearing it shatter. He walked on, his mind in tumoil as his vampyre and mortal nature clashed. Chegrin He'd followed his intuition, because Marxus hadn't left a single clue as to where he was headed, and left faster than humanly possible. He wouldn't have gone back to the ballroom, wasn't in his apartment, so he was probably wandering London. Where would a distraught undead man be? Probably excersizing control, somewhere were few people would know, or care. He was guessing, but the middle to lower part of town would be most likely. So, that was where he would follow. Braeden was once again swaddled in the darkness of night, his scarf replaced, but he was running this time. He had remarkable stamina for a mortal, having been afflicted with the desire to run madly as a younger boy. His footsteps were soft even in his fast pace but the tails of his scarf stretched out behind him and cracked like whips in the wind, flaring out like great black wings and snapping down again. Before long, he found himself in the worst part of the city, the slums. The scent of human filth and waste almost keeled him over. He slowed his pace and squinted, steely silver eyes trying to pinpoint anything familiar in the shadows. Nothing. He kept walking, but crunched on a piece of glass. Stooping, he looked at it. Not a bottle fragment, it was too thin. He found a large chunk, and recognized his handiwork almost instantly. He was studying the shatter pattern and reasoned it had been flung far, and in a straight angle from across the street. He turned and followed it, but froze in cold blood when he spied a body tucked into the allyway, his neck almost ripped away. "You do this, kid?" Braeden turned on the voice in shock, suprised to see a man standing, glaring at him. He was dingy, suspicious and large, standing almost six and a half feet tall. His hair was loose and wild, a beard obscuring part of his face except where a scar neatly parted it across his cheek and down his chin. He held a pipe in his hand. "You the one who killed John, ey?" Braeden turned again, another man was approaching, this time a redhead covered head to toe in freckles. "I reckon you're got to be one of them. You got a smooth face, an look, silver eyes." "Ain't no one got silver eyes." A third man had come up behind him while Braeden was backing up, causing the man to bump into him. He grasped his scarf and felt it between thick fingers. "Please sirs I just came here to find my friend, I think he's in trouble." Braeden stammered, pulling away from the third man harshly, but walled in by two other bodies. "Oh sure! You sure did make him in trouble, ripping out his throat!" He roared, pulling on the scarf and roughly pulling Braeden back. He jabbed him in his side, and Braeden unleashed a sharp yelp of pain. "Oh look! I think we--AGH!" The man went down with a groan, cluching his head. Braeden had turned on him and cracked the ram against his head, proving that skull vs. steel was not a fair match. "You undead s**t!" The first man growled, coming for him now. Braeden turned to flee, but his scarf was caught on the downed man, "Oh god someone help me please! Marxus!!" Was the last thing he could think of to scream before the pipe decended. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus was about 5 blocks away when he heard the scream. It was high pitched in fear and pain, and it was quickly cut off. Marxus felt his vision go red as he recognized the voice. It was Braeden. Without realizing it he was besides the men in half a second. He didn't think, just grabbed the man and tore him apart, a red mist of blood covering him. He took the other man and threw him screaming against the opposing wall like a rag doll. THen, he turned to Braedon expecting the worst. He was covered in bruises, one gash covered his head. He was unconcious but breathing rapidly, and Marxus suspected one of his ribs were broken. Taking him up delicately in his arms, he jumped in the air and ran to his apartment. Chegrin (From the slums) The first blow had not struck his head, and Braeden was left for a few hovering moments with the singular thought that he was going to die, murdered as a suspected vampire by a couple of street vigalantes. The first strike had swung to the side, splitting two of his ribs and causing him to fall with a squeal to the cobbled road. The gash was where he had fallen, his scarf turning him to strike the top of his head on the rocks. The second man kicked him roughly, pushing Braeden away. His scream was sharp and laced with pain, but cut off when his scarf began to strangle him, entwined in the first man's hands. Braeden swung courageously at his assailants and knocked one in the hip, but it only served to engrage them. Blows decended from all angles until all Braeden could do was try to shield himself with his cane, until the street and the road and the night dissolved around him into silent nothingness. It had stopped. Unknowing if it was from unconciousness or the assailants being halted, he was only vaguely aware of being lifted. His eyes lolled around, unfocused and dull. He was shaking, sticky and afraid, but not in critical condition. Even mostly unconcious, he grasped feebly at his saviour's clothes, even though his deathgrip on his cane made his movements awkward. "M-m-m..." He paused, "Marx...us" And with that he finally lay still, cradled in the vampire's arms. ((TBC))
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Posted: Thu Jan 18, 2007 1:23 pm
Braeden attends a vampire LARP (continued) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ichigo_Kitten Taking Braeden into his apartment, Marxus stripped him of his clothes and laid him in the bathtub that was filled with steaming fragrant water. He washed his bruised ans gash carefully, then taking him out he bound his wounds. He had minor knowledge in medicine from his books, and he did a clean neat job. He tucked Braeden into bed and found him shivering violently from the beginnings of fever. After a moments hesitation he got in with him, pressing his cold hard body against him in hope of soothing his inflamed skin. Looking down, he brushed an orange strand from his face. "Why do you plague me so?" He whispered fiercely " No matter what I do I cannot get you out of my mind. Why do you curse me so with this unwanted love?" He said this even as he buried his head in his hair. He made a chocking sound that was a sob and curled around Braeden to keep the heart that he had to carefully kept from being destroyed from falling into pieces. Chegrin Braeden fell in and out of conciousness, slipping between the two like a flickering candle, one moment he felt the heat of a bath, the next moment he was soaring under the stars. One instant brought a flash of pain, but he couldn't even move enough to hiss. If Marxus had ever been so inclined, he could have dropped Braeden under the water and he would have silently drowned without a struggle. His life was owed and risked by the vampire who now took the utmost care in him. He recalled faintly the feeling of sheets as he was slipped nude between them, and then the chill of wind, or was it ice? Or...Had he fallen on a stone floor? Braeden couldn't tell, but didn't care, he was hot and chilled all over at the same time, feverish and shivering. "Why do you plague me so?" Marxus? It sounded like his voice. Lilies did not have petals smoother than his voice. "No matter what I do I cannot keep you from my mind. Why do you curse me with this unwanted love?" Braeden's heart felt like it had been lanced. Instead of feeling joy for this whispered proclamation, he felt wounded yet again, at fault for his own savage beating for causing a vampire to feel for him. "...Sorry..." Braeden whispered in reply, a pearlescent tear forming at the corner of his eye and beading downward. He really, truely was a sap, to apologize for something he could not have changed. His head tilted to rest against Marxus' cheek, where a quiet noise was the only indication that he had pressed a tender kiss to the marble skin there. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus felt the kiss, light as a feather, and the whispered sorry. Marxus held him closer, feeling his heat emanate from his skin. He didn't realize that he was awake when he uttered the proclamation, meant for Elena more than Braeden. Kissing him gently he wondered how he could take a beating on his behalf and still say sorry. How could he be so selfless, so guiless? And how can he loved such a self centered arrogant creature such as he? Seeing a single tear on Braeden's cheek, and he gently wiped it off. "I'm sorry." He said for the third time in his life. When he thought Braeden was asleep he said another. "I love you." he said for the first time in his life. He gently drifted into a vampiric sleep with the hot form of Braeden his last memory. Chegrin He had barely heard the vampire apologize before he was lost again to the dark waves of unconciousness. This time, he did not resurface again for hours. When his eyes opened again, it was dark outside, and he felt miserable from head to feet. How long had he been unconcious? Around twenty hours. It had just passed sunset and had crawled into the evening dusk by the time Braeden roused again. He grimaced and began to sit up, against the pain in his broken ribs that creaked every time he inhaled. It only took an instant to realize he was nude. Another, to remember where he was, and thirdly that his cane was nowhere to be seen. The events of the past night trickled back more slowly. The ball, Marxus, the dance... He had to think harder to bring back the rest. The apartment, the kiss, Marxus running away...Assault in the streets... Braeden, what have you gotten yourself into? His fever had broken already but his mouth was dry. Was Marxus around? Wide silver eyes peered the room, looking for him. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus was on the balcony, cradling a cup of undrunken wine in one hand. He could never drink it but just holding it comforted him somewhat. He sensed Braeden stirring in the other room and waking up. He didn't want to face Braeden after what had happened but knew he had to take care of him. Going in, he made a strong brew of tea and soft oatmeal. Taking it in the bedroom, he found a very confused and very nude Braeden looking for his cane. He had a glimpse of a slim hairless chest and slender neck before Braeden blushed and covered himself. Marxus smirked and got his cane from the living room. Chegrin ((Just a note, you're godmoding a little.)) Braeden didn't see the slim figure standing outside the balcony from where he was. He was searching as far as staying beneath the sheets in his condition would allow for his cane. He couldn't imagine he had left it in the slums, though it was a harrowing possibility. If that were to happen, it surely would have gotten stolen. He could probably try to find it on the market and buy it back, or he'd never see his heirloom again. His father would never forgive him that. In the chill breeze coming in from outside his skin was starting to prickle, his nipples firming as well, but his shiver was gone. It was then he spotted Marxus coming in, appearing much the same as the evening before. Even now he couldn't resist the smile breaking out on seeing him, forgetting for an instant that he was still nude under the sheets. It was when he saw those golden eyes roving his exposed chest did he finally move to cover up, though the movement was slow and awkward. Marxus had already seen him completely nude, though not in circumstances he would have liked. Braeden was shattered and unconcious, bleeding profusely when Marxus found him, and now it never crossed his mind his wounds would have healed instantly had Marxus bitten him. What happened the night before had lost its sensuality the moment Marxus had paniced and fled, leaving Braeden alone in the apartment. He didn't touch the food until he saw the vampire return with his steel cane, the rams horns spotted with the thug's blood from where he cracked it across his head. It was not an item to be trifled with. Braeden lifted his arms with a wince and patted his bandages. "You came back for me." Ichigo_Kitten ((oops sorry didn't mean too o__O)) Marxus' looked into his eyes, then away. The truth was that he himself didn't exactly know why he had come back, why he had rushed at the mere sound of pain in his voice. Braeden had him firmly on a leash, Marxus would have gladly died for him. The vampiric voice in him yelled at him for this crippling weakness. His mortal voice chided him for falling so irrationally in love with him. But the part that was solely his rejoiced as the heart that for too long has been frozen begin to thaw. Spring has come for him. "I had too, I needed too." Was his only response. Chegrin Braeden sat in the bed, hands on the tray with the food. He watched Marxus with liquid silver eyes. He was regarding the vampire silently as he seemed to stew off to his side. He could see the internal battle flicker in the golden gaze, and wondered what he was thinking of. Braeden sighed heavily, breaking the extended pause. He hurt. "I am glad you did, or I would be gone." He answered weakly, not adding it was really his fault it happened. It was Marxus' victim he stumbled upon who had not been killed by the feeding, but died in the street a ways away. Braeden reached forward to grab his cup of tea, squeaking at the unexpected and sudden pain flaring along his side. It was enough to bring tears to his innocent and emotive eyes. His anger was however, directed to the dead man in the street, torn apart and likely eaten by rats. Common thug, street Vigilante, whatever you wanted to call him, he'd exacted his twisted justice all over Braeden's body. Instead, he just leaned back to rest. "Why did you run from me?" He asked without warning, this time not looking at Marxus. He couldn't bear it if that tortured and betrayed gaze was focused on him again. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus was taken aback at the question. He looked away, conflicting whether to tell him or not. "When I was still a young vampire I.....fell deeply for a mortal girl." He started "She...betrayed me....horribly...." His voice cracked slightly here, and his eyes were a deep desolate black. "When I was with you something happened, I just thought of her. For a second you were her." He was leaning against the frame of the door, his head lightly resting on it, his vampiric nature not allowing him to shed any tears, yet inside he was crying. Chegrin So, Braeden had read the betrayal correctly. It was also true it was not he the betrayal was focused on, but another mortal girl. So, it was a mortal that brought up the feelings, but why? Surely he did not fall into such panic at any mortal? He would be unable to feed if it were such a case. And they did have to feed, didn't they? Braeden stared at the cooling oatmeal, feeling unable to move again. When he spoke, his voice was still quiet. "For what I do know of betrayal, I cannot imagine what she has done to you, but it must have been great." Not great as in good, but great as in extreme. Braeden reached out and patted the bed next to him. He forgave the vampire, for his human follies and emotion. "Sit with me?" Braeden turned to look at Marxus and was immediately taken aback at the jet quality of his radient eyes. Thoughts of this girl brought back immediate and painful memories to shift him in such a way. He looked desolate and hopelessly alone. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus took Braedens offer and hesitantly sat on the bed, arranging himself so that he wouldn't touch Braeden's wounds. He toyed with Braedens hair, looking at how it glinted gold in the soft light of the lamps. He thought of what had happened and the events of these last couple of days. He was alone, hopelessly alone, and here Braeden came with bright smile and vivacious glow. The only thing was, what would happen if he filled Marxus' soul, just to have taken away from before? He kissed his neck, feeling the strong pulse course beneath his lips, warming them. And what right did he have to take this mortal's life and soul away from him in the prime of his life? He sighed and after burying his head once agai into Braedens hair he got up. "I have some......unfinished buisness I need to take care of. Call Joanne with the serving bell if you need food, and the bath is always ready." He didn't tell Braeden what the buisness was, but after another kiss left the apartment. ((exit to slums)) ((Hopefully Braeden will get turned by the end of the night, once Marxus is done :3)) Ichigo_Kitten ((from the slums)) Marxus came in, drained emotionally and physically. Going into the bedroom, knowing perfectly well what a horror he looked with blood spattered all over his body and his gash on his arm bleeding. The p***k that stabbed him had a garlic tipped sword. "Do you see what I am now? I am a damnation, a creature of the darkness. And yet you still love me." It looked as if he wanted to say something more, but instead he went into the bathroom and filled the bath with hot water and various salts. He peeled his clothes off and sank into the bath gratefully, his eyes betraying his weariness. Chegrin Braeden was left alone in the apartment again, with no warning as to where Marxus had left this time, and in no state to follow him. Absently, he touched his neck where twice now he had been kissed, and twice Marxus had refrained from taking him to the eve of decent. Was he just a plaything to the vampire? Someone to toy with and abandon out of boredom? It was a long time Braeden was alone, feeling pale and cold against the sheets in Marxus bedroom, the tea and oatmeal forgotten and tepid. "I have some..." Braeden had pinned his silver stare on Marxus, but the vampire did not look back at him. "Unfinished business I need to take care of..." And just like that, with a last kiss, he was gone again. When Marxus was out of earshot, Braeden grabbed his staff and crawled out of bed, though the ordeal was slow. He found a long wine colored bathrobe to slip into, so he would not have to glance at himself as he walked about. He felt stiff all over, and every breath he took was laced in agony. Marxus returned some time later, but Braeden was on the balcony. Still, he heard his voice as he spoke to the empty bed. "Do you see what I am now? I am a damnation, a creature of the darkness. And yet you still love me." And to the silence Braeden immediately whispered, "I do." He heard the vampire enter the bath by the splashing of the waters, and he turned away from the chill night, away from the winking stars and the endless black sky. He ventured into the bathroom, and saw Marxus inside, floating in a seeping pool of blood. Braeden set aside his cane and looked deeply into a despairing obsidian gaze, his own eyes more like ash than silver, dulled. He let his head tilt to the side, bangs falling over his eyes as he shrugged off the silk robe, the dark material falling sensually first off of his slender shoulders. It trailed down to his waist, exposing his bandaged chest before he dropped it completely, revealing his body, still sunkissed and tanned, but marred by violent violet bruises and marks. His blood was still as sweet as it ever had been, his pulse still as strong and hot though it didn't seem to reach his fingers and toes, as they were chilled. Braeden stepped boldly into the bath, hissing as the hot water hit his skin. He sank as gracefully as he could manage onto Marxus' lap, draping himself over the vampire's longer body. "I cannot blame your nature." He offered simply, as he let his head drop against the vampire's chest. Ichigo_Kitten ((wow two pages! biggrin )) Marxus held him fiercly to him. "Im sorry." He said simply. he said it again as he kissed every bruise and scar, making sure not to miss one. Then he looked into Braeden's eyes. "Do you truly wish to be a creature such as I? To be cursed with the darkness, to walk the night and prey on the weak. If you do, I shall not refuse, for you have ensared me completely body and soul." He said as he covered Braeden's chest with kisses. Chegrin Braeden squeaked as Marxus gripped him tightly. He was laid out and kissed over and over again, each tender apology and press of lips to flesh searing like fire over his wounds. Never in his life had he known such pain, being sheltered by his father. The worse he tended to suffer were burns on his hands from his working with glass. Braeden was as helpless as a lamb before him, and just as trusting, his ashen eyes watching Marxus' dark head dip down to deliver a kiss time and time again without a single voiced complaint. Finally, when every mark was touched, Marxus spoke again, "Do you truly wish to be a creature such as I...?" It seemed to be suddenly a hasty decision, though one Braeden had been secretly hoping for since he was but a boy. Now, he was technically a man, though he still had a young physique and face, which would be valuable to him living undead, and it would be preserved throughout all time if he just answered the word. Would Marxus, knowing how he felt, let himself live out his days, aging in startling speed compared to the marbline statue that was his companion? Would he regret not turning him sooner, as his hair greyed, his bones turned to dust, and his body died all around him? To live a soul trapped in a decaying body, with a mind as young as it had ever had been, would that be any better than snatching his mortal life now? And so, with surity, without any hesitation past the first, Braeden uttered a single word. " Please." Ichigo_Kitten ((Not sure how this works. Guess i'll do it Anne Rice style razz )) Marxus nodded at his descision. Lifting Braeden up gently, he carried him to the bed. He whispered in his ear "My lamb, this will be painful, but fret not for soon all pain will cease and you will be a creature such as I." Laying him down on the bed, he bit into his tongue, the line of his lips turning red. Ducking his head he lay a searing kiss on every cut and bruise once again, this time the cuts warped and healed. He gently licked the ribs and the bones twisted and joined together once more. He held Braeden softly in his arms until the worst of the pain was over. Then he gently kissed his neck, the teeth eager to escape their prison and sink into the tender flesh. Chegrin This searing pain was different from the others. This one held a supernatural power, and after each one had ended, the agony too ceased for that spot. Every scar, every blemish, every old and new wound he'd ever accumulated vanished under the blood kiss. The ribs were one of the last to be healed, and took the longest, the split bones needing to re-knit together and fuse back into their original shape. Braeden inhaled sharply when it was over, free of pain at last. His eyes sparkled anew as Marxus took him into his arms and held him close, perhaps savoring his mortality for a moment more. In all of his fantasies Braeden imagined that final kiss, the one that pierced his jugular, but with those dreams, there was no pain. Now, two needles found his tender sunkissed skin and broke through, his blood, hot and sweet spilling forth into Marxus' willing mouth. All it would take is time. Braeden grasped Marxus and gasped loudly as he felt himself begin to get lightheaded. Like a lifeline he clung to the vampire, memories of his life flickering before his eyes even as his vision faded from him. His grip began to slack as his muscles could not function without his life fluid, now coursing through Marxus as easily as if it had been his own. His pulse beat frantically at first as though in a panic, but it began to slow too, until it was hardly there. A few moments more and Braeden would surely perish. Ichigo_Kitten Marcus felt the heart slow and beat eratically. Tearing himself away from the sweet blood he slashed open his own wrist and held it against Braeden's mouth. "Drink." He ordered as he held Braeden close. Chegrin (You have a typo. You spelled Marxus as Marcus.) Braeden was almost too far gone to understand the words Marxus spoke. He blinked hazily as the wrist was held up to his mouth, his exhalation causing small bubbles in the blood as it dribbled off his face. Some of it managed to eek past his lips and trail down into his mouth, but for a few extended moments, he sat still as his life slipped away. The pooling was getting too much for Braeden to breath, and with a harsh gulp, he swallowed. His world exploded into color again. Like he'd stepped out of a black and white movie theater into the real world, everything was vibrant. He saw the deep green of the bedsheets, the ruddiness of his own skin as pale as it was through blood loss, Marxus' obsidian eyes, and lastly, the look of worry on his face. Braeden reached up to grasp as Marxus' arm, only now becoming aware of the coppery sanguine taste in his mouth. He wanted it, he needed it, he needed more. Sealing his lips over the bite as though he had been doing it for years, Braeden began to catch every last drop and drank it greedily. Like a man who had been dying of thirst who was offered a tap of water Braeden drank from the fount, his awareness expanding with every draught. Given the way he was now, he'd never let go. Ichigo_Kitten ((oops Oo)) For a secon Marxus thought Braeden was lost, and then he latched on and drank greedily. His eyes were full of lust as he drank Marxus' life blood. He felt an explosion of pain as his blood was drained from him. Eventually he pried Braeden off "Later my love, you shall feast on the blood of mortals." He whispered.He held Braeden apart and lay him on the bed. Bending down he filled his mouth with blood once again, except this time he pressed his lips agaist Braeden's and transferred the blood. It was far more intimate and pleasurable than any mortal kiss. "Soon you will die, and then you will rise and we will go into the night together." He promised, stroking Braeden's head as he waited for the throes of death to come. Chegrin It was over too quickly, for as soon as Marxus decided he'd had enough, like waking up from too little sleep his greatest and most pressing urge was for more. But Marxus would not be swayed. "Later my love you shall feast on the blood of Mortals." His hand was firm and unyielding as he pressed the yet mortal man down on the bed. His heart fluttered again with renewed speed, but not with pleasure. As the tainted blood replenished that which he had lost, it was steadily poisoning his heart, and every single cell in his body, but for now he could not feel pain. Marxus bent down and kissed him again, Braeden lapping eagerly at his tongue, his mouth afire, his body and soul being steadily consumed by it. As soon as Marxus broke the kiss he felt it, his body heating rapidly as it attempted to fight off the impending destruction of his mortal frame. Braeden did not dissappoint as he jerked suddenly, the process faster due to the whisper he'd already had at death's door. "Soon you will die..." Braeden was vaguely aware of Marxus speaking above him as he tensed again, releasing a strangled cry. His heart burned with exertion as it pounded in a valiant attempt to keep him alive, but with every pump, it spread the blight further into his body. Braeden felt as though he was shattered, and was being lowered to undergo a baptism of flames piece by piece. "And then you will rise..." His back knotted and Braeden arched off the bed, his fingers clutching at the sheets as he mindlessly fell into the eve of decent. He tried to crawl off the bed, to fling himself away from the inferno that burned him away from the insides, but could not tear himself from his own body. Marxus held him down. "And we will go into the night together." With a last sob and a wailing whisper, Braeden finally fell still, his eyes unfocused as his heart finally failed under its own exertion. His death was spectacular and tragic, leaving him still in his savior and nemisis' arms. But as soon as it had ended, life in him began again as he hiccuped, and began to breathe. Behind his gently parted lips, his canines stretched and legnthened, becoming pointed and lethal fangs. Luminously liquid silver eyes turned to meet Marxus, sporting the inhumanly even gaze that marked the undead. It was done. Ichigo_Kitten Marxus inhaled sharply as Braeden rose. His skin was still dark and sunkissed, as if even death could not mute the colors. That same exotic smell was around him, not muted but without the edge of blood. Death had not dulled his luster as Marxus feared. It merely enhanced his beauty. Marxus took Braeden's arms and pressed his lips on his forhead. "You crave the blood, I can sense it. Let us go now to feast on the blood of others. I have much to teach you." He said, and he lead him outside and into the night. ((To Merlins?)) Chegrin Unlike most of the marble like vampires in england, Braeden was still just as warm and mortal seeming as ever. It was just the thing to throw mortals off, and be irrisistable to vampires all the same. He was glad, as Marxus would not become disinterested in him immediately. Braeden stared at his hands through his immortal eyes, marveling at the wonder of it all. But, while Marxus was eager to get on with the lesson, Braeden paused him. "We're naked." Braeden got up and slid from the bed, wandering into the bathroom to fetch his clothes. They were ripped and slightly bloodied, which caused him to frown. That was a nice suit those thugs ruined, but he put it on anyway, though the scent of his own blood was intense and bizarre to the fledgling. He had some on his sleeve and brought it to his nose, feeling oddly inticed by the spicy, sweet smell. Was this what brought Marxus to him? Did all mortal blood smell this way? All he needed to do was grab his cane, and let Marxus lead the way. (G'head. I'll follow you.)) ((TBC?))
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