[[This character has been remade, this journal edited and reposted.]]
December 19th, 2011- One Week After Siring
Vasik burst through the front door of his hideout- a small, abandoned shop with boarded-up windows letting the quiet snow accumulate on the floors. The nearly empty bottle of jack slipped from his weak, unmotivated fingers crashing at his feet. His shoulders were slouched, his face down, a body expression of near defeat.
He walked in to the playing of his music box. Did he wind it? Did someone else wind it? Was he imagining it?
A distant female voice sang in his head like an angel, cradling him in the cold, still night. The wind whispered through his hair.
He slumped his way to the couch and collapsed before he could make it, landing partially on the long, splintered coffee table covered in blood stains, razors, and parchment paper blowing in the wind. A bottle of ink tumbled across some of the fluttering papers dissolving the evidence like liquid on butterfly wings, forever staining the delicate texts.
He faced the boarded window as the black liquid engulfed his white sleeve like a growing shadow. A small exhale followed a tear down the cold cheek as a small word entered the lonely atmosphere...
Damn...
His eyes submitted to slumber.
These are the papers that lay on that very table, the documentation of the loss of his sanity.
(Ink and blood is splattered across these documents.)
December 13th
Friday the 13th. The day after...
I can't... I can't do this anymore.
Kill me.
Please, do something.
Anyone.
Something.
I can't... something... wrong... something's wrong with me.
Something wrong... help...
________________________________________________________
December 14th
"So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life. I loathe it; I would not live always: let me alone; for my days are vanity" Job 7:15-16. Job 7:15-16
Job 7:15-16 Job 7:15-16
Job 7:15-16
________________________________________________________
What day is it again?
Why? I can't remember why... What happened?
I can't... I can't remember... I can't...
She... she left me... she left me... she betrayed me... stupid *****.
I didn't deserve her anyways...
December 16th
**** them all.
I am the master of my domain.
I will endure.
________________________________________________________
December 17th
Who am I? What am I doing here? Black... everything going black...
________________________________________________________
December 18th
Have to go back... have to find her...
No... she's gone...
The black beast took her. My kingdom... gone.
Where is my throne?
My throne...
I must get it back.
I demand it.
________________________________________________________
Beware father. It is vengeful eyes I possess.
Thank you for your eyes.
Thank you for your powers.
Thank you for redemption.
I will destroy everything and remake a new world in my image.
Thank you, you filth.
December 19th
Vasik awoke with his hand tied to a 3-inch journal with primitive, scratchy twine. The cover was etched in the words "READ THIS" from the calligraphy pen to its side, or his claws, he wasn't sure which. He had no memory of what had happened in the past few days and was confused as to how he ended up with a novel attached to him. In quite a nasty stupor, he unraveled the string and opened to the first page, still laying on the couch, holding the book above his head, distinguishing the hectic handwriting with his squinted, darkened eyes.
I keep forgetting what happens all of the time. I don't know how I got here. My body is cold and my heart is weak. I am aware that it no longer beats, but it still feels heavy in my dead chest.
I know he's taken over. I know you've taken over. Get out of me. Now.
I know you wouldn't want this book to survive. You want to be independent. I know you want to kill me. I know you want to get rid of me, but you can't. I bet it's aggravating, isn't it? Can't get rid of her either, can you? I hope she kills us. I'd like to take you down to hell with me.
Vasik's eyebrows turned down in anger, following a grimace of disgust and a growl, flashing the bright canines in the darkened world around him.
I know you'll burn this. But know this. I'll make your life a hell for you like you have for me.
I've hidden messages around this house. No matter where you go I'll follow you.
Tsk, empty threats, he thought. Let the challenge begin...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
December 20th
*Note: These attacks were on my old character and occurred in November, 2011. Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Rocklin !
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Jacinthe !
Alert: Achlys killed you in a skirmish attack!
You are now stuck in the shadow realm
until you can find a way back to the realm of the living.
"Oh ecstasy of death is quite sweet
if we linger not on the ends meet."
I'll be back, bitches.
Kekekekekekekeke...
Vasik cringed with his last breath and sank into the shadows through the ground, his spirit's soul still laughing, echoing in the atmosphere...
His breath was nonexistant, but his soul felt like he was still attached to that flow of air, matter that lacked form in the world underground. Bright flashes went across his memory. Screams and blood. His hand out to protect him, blood gushing to his face. Several faces taunting him as he chuckled. He shivered at his own laugh in the memory. Blood, so much blood flowing from a body without a pulse.
Head bent back, breath escaping, extacy, the slow touch of mortality, the cold numbness starting from his toes and fingers to his heart. Muffled gunshots got louder and louder in his mind. Then...
*BANG*
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAHHHHH!!!!
Pain. Pain personified in a scream that could not be heard. The echo was not carried into the world. Black, everything black. All he could do was scream and cry, scream and cry out into the nothingness.
****! WH-WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?!!
He looked to his hands... black. he could feel them, but there was nothing.
Am I... dead? Oh God... I'm dead... why... How could he...
You'll make my life a hell, will you? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! You little *****...
No...no please... God let it not be true...
Maybe you'll find your little friends down here, see how welcomed you'll be... hehe...
Oh God no...
Yes...
I can't... I cant do this anymore.. I can't go on...
********. We can get out of this. You've already gone crazy once- you don't want to become a wraith, do you? We are destined for greatness you and I. Plus, you know that she belongs down here instead of us. Let's send her a deportation ticket, neh?
You stay the **** away from her..., he snarled.
He looked up into the sky, or whatever the blackness above was...
Blood. Pain. Trudging this forsaken land. Fate. It is fate. Karma? Maybe from a past life... So much pain. No one to help me. So alone...
He went through the scenarios in his mind. His other self sent so many beautiful women to die who would be sure to exact revenge... He had no idea of how the underworld worked.
What can they do to me? Can they capture me and torture me for eternity? Would they cut out my tongue and claw off my balls? I would if I were me.
Maybe the physical... or spiritual pain I suppose... would take the pain from my heart.
Blood on the foreign ground... Drip... drip... drip...
Maybe I can find her. I could come looking for her. Is she here?
The glimmer of hope brought an overwhelming power. I would spend an eternity in Hell for you...
Drip... drip...
He collapsed.
Out of energy, eh? And not one step closer to getting out. Can't use the access points without getting that anima, so get off your *** and find some!
............No.
Fine... I'll do it myself.
Weak knees buckled, he grasped his splintered skull in his hands and wailed. The struggle began with a choking sound, then grew to a scream, then a roar...
Ga.. ..ah... ah! ****! ah! Ahh... nn-n-no! You can't... do this... to... I win!
Damn, can't move...
Damnit!
Hehehe... aww, little Orpheus wants to find his girl? Too bad. **** this **** I'm getting out. Gah! Can't... move...
Told you so.
Shut the **** up. We'll rest for now then I'll get us out of here tomorrow.
Yeah, I'll wait here while you deal with the exes...
N...nn...nugh... ugh these wounds... how can they still hurt here? ugh...
Don't ask me.
It was rhetorical, dumbass.
Drip... drip... drip...
Well, see you later.
He crawls into the abyss of his mind, keeping to himself and his despair, hoping to affect his parasite on the outside shell with the shared loneliness.
...
What is matter in the spirit world? The blood... it drips... but does it have a sound? All is quiet in the world. Quiet and intoxicating with slumbers and fears.
[[OOC]] NOTE: Celestia Lunae was a former character of mine. These attacks were also on a former date.
Celestia Lunae
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Wolf !
Alert: You were skirmish attacked by Drake , but you avoided their attack!
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Velindia !
Alert: Drake says: "Leave our sire alone"
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Lyonel !
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Lorette !
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Asia Rae !
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by Nicius !
Alert: You were skirmish attacked by Schadenfreude , but you avoided their attack!
Alert: You were skirmish attacked and wounded by catalina !
Alert: Scorpia killed you in a skirmish attack!
You are now stuck in the shadow realm until you can find a way back to the realm of the living.
No... but... but... it was for him...
Eyes closed... everything black...
What a foolish little girl... trying to rescue your undying love from the bounty they placed on themselves from carelessness? Tried to appease his spirit? Your undying love made him dead, ha.
She spoke to herself for hours while trying to fumble her way in the darkness, widening her eyes thinking they'll let in some light and stretching her hands out like a blind child, unknowing that these techniques were useless. There was something enchanting about this place to her... something... familiar...
So this is what it's like to be dead...
A light grew near as she walked. It was such a faint glow, but actually that of darkness, however a light in the nothingness. The wraith hissed knowing Celestia's instinctual intentions and wisped away.
Calm, collected, and motivated, she continued on. A brighter light this time, but a smaller one, grew before her. A spirit. She grew nearer and nearer, leaned over the being, tucked her head down over the spectral mass, and absorbed its essence, like sucking blood and inhaling at the same time, savoring the taste of life in her cold body.
She found another spirit and continued on, feeling very assured and set on her goal. She must continue on.
Until, that is, she hit an impassible wall.
Strange...
She turned around at a different degree to cover some new grounds. To keep her sanity and her company, she began to sing... a forsaken, delicate bird in an ocean of emptiness.
Then, she collapsed. She didn't know her own energy here. It was a different place, a place that sucked your every being away from you. Energy was stolen like her love was from the boy.
She curled up on the ground and continued to sing...
Oh ecstasy of death is quite sweet
if we linger not on the ends meet.
Slumber my love, suffer my pain.
Soon we will meet once again.
I hear her… How did she end up here? No… she doesn’t deserve being here. Please… let me be crazy. Let me hear her bird-song from my memories…
Hm? I hear your whispering thoughts, you know. What’s this about crazy birds?
Can I have no peace? Can I not just cease to exist? Death and life are too unbearable.
Ah, suck it up pussy. I got us the anima, we just need to find the access point. If you don’t tell me what’s up, I’ll sleep. I’m tired.
I’d rather take over than that.
I guess it was important then, huh? Well, I hope you enjoy getting back to the real world by yourself. Alone.
Maybe then I’ll know peace, but how can I trust someone like you?
I am you. Can't trust yourself is what you're thinking. Think about that. Isn't it charming? Either way, you’re not as stupid as I thought you were, Romeo. So... 'night.
He let out a sigh and with minimal will power, the captive boy crawled on, meditating to think of nothing related to her to protect her. He must be quiet, for he feared others would seek vengeance down here on him instead of the one inside. No matter. He didn’t give a **** anymore. He wasn’t sure what made him keep going. Perhaps it was protecting her from him. That was it. That was worth crawling for.
His eyes were getting adjusted to the surroundings. He could faintly make out the darkish grey silhouettes of buildings, dark and misshapen, instead of walking with his arms out like a blind man so tireless. He came across his home… the abandoned shop he always returned to. He walked inside the door, broken down off the hinges, glass all over the floor, so many notes of his thoughts pasted on every inch of wall. It was too dark to read them legibly, but he knew that they were from himself.
Why not stay here forever?
He collapsed on the couch, face down, body spread out. He looked to the windows, the boards being smashed and broken. So little will power…
Could there be a death in death? He entertained the idea. He felt like he was nearly there, and he wished for it… absolute death… nonexistence...
Then, a presence from behind woke him from his thoughts. He sat up and looked behind the couch.
The counter behind the register in the back had a light creature behind it- a wraith. His privacy was always occupied and violated. He would not have a moment’s rest. With a territorial shriek, the wraith stood its ground and urged the “intruder” to leave. The powerless boy stood up, walked out the doorway, and out of habit tried to close the door that was no longer there. With sorrow in his heart, he departed without a word.
Curled up in her restful slumber, she felt a lingering feeling over her. The presence of something silent. Something… ominous. A stalking, watchful, hungry presence.
Gah… ahh! No… nn… Please… ah…
It was a violating feeling. The stealing of life after death is so painful, not only in the body or soul but in the mind and will.
She’ll have to start once more, except now she felt more alone than before. She could feel it. She felt like something cherished to her was no longer with her where she was…
He had found some sort of strange, empty building filled with nothing but chairs. It was a magnificent train station of which was only to be beheld by him. He wanted to go to nowhere. He wanted to escape. As in a dream, some instinct told him to get on the train, because it felt it was a good thing and something would happen. Something he wasn't sure of, but it would get him somewhere. The trains were running, but all was silent.
He made his way downstairs below ground to one of the railways. There was only a single subway, whose doors were open and inviting. Still with slumped shoulders, he shuffled his feet to the entrance, put his effort into his legs and bounded across the small six inches that separated the platform from the train. He found a seat... and just sat there.
Waiting.
Then... the train started moving, without a sound.
The train ran off the tracks, up the stairs, and out to the twon. He could make out the city very slightly, more like dark grey blurrs with small, very darkish-light tints he made out to be spirits.
He was just glad to be quiet and alone, moving without effort towards something he felt was better.
Things grew lighter around him. and lighter...[/color and lighter...[/color and lighter...
And then...
HHHHHHHHHAAAAAHHH!!!
The breath of life. It was large and painful. He choked and coughed and rolled over from laying up to curl in a fetal position. He was entirely dazed... things were out of focus. It was sunset, and he could hear dogs barking in the distance. He was not far from town.
He craved blood. Craved it so. It took all of his might to hide in the shadows through the buildings of the street filled with people to not be seen. The bright light was unbearable, and he needed refuge. He found an entrance to the sewers and took shelter there.
He could not stand it any longer. He needed to feed. He was near death once more, drained of blood and absolutely shivering in agony.
He sat down, back to a brick, slimy wall, feet nearly touching the stream of the watery waste that flowed through. A famished rat scuddled up, nibbling his fingertips on his left hand for food, squeaking in delight. He couldn't feel it. The rat crawled into his hand, making his way up to his still arm.
The hand collapsed on the poor creature like a vicious venus flytrap. His eyes were hazed over with no emotion, not even glancing at the kill. The rat cried and cried as the boy lifted the rodent to his mouth, canines protruded outwards, and punctured the flesh of the small beast.
Crunch.
It felt like heaven, ecstasy, drugs. He lingered on the taste, the joy. His eyes closed, his mind entranced by the feeling of warmth, life, satiation. His head rolled around as his teeth dug into the defenseless creature, now growing more quiet. It was simply intoxicating and arousing.
He was so... hungry... it was pain and delight.
[-Killer-][-Shifter-]
☩ Owner of The Lions Den (8DM 2F 10,1) ☩ RL Name: Erik ☩ YIM: Red_Vasik ☩
Banner by Myk
He crawled into a dead end, hoping no one would find him or take revenge on him. This time, he hoped not to die, for he longed so much for the taste of the red vitae. He was so aroused by the idea, the taste... the taste... thick, salty, rich...
He looked at his hand where the rat was nibbling... there was a spot where the small creature broke the skin. He took the finger and licked it so delicately. He was so aggravated that he had no pulse, because the blood would not come out. His agitation made him suck on his finger, even bite it. He gnawed at himself, longing for blood. He felt pain, but pleasure overrode his actions. If he had blood to, he would have an enveloping sensation leading to an erection. But because he could not, the pain grew more and more stimulating and unbearable. Life was teasing him. Life… the “friend” he just got reacquainted with. His muscles tensed in pain, the blood flowing without a pulse. Thank God for vasoconstriction. Even then, it was unbearable.
The pain in his body… the shivers that ran down his spine…
The world of the sewers was easier to see in, much more bearable in contrast to the sun setting in the world above after getting out of the realm of shadows…
He was able to regain his conscious voice and the strength to think only slightly. He needed to assess the situation.
He looked down to his gut. He put his hand to his stomach and lifted his shirt up. It reeked of spoiled blood. It disgusted him, but still brought some appeal to him. He licked it, but it was too congealed and brought no pleasure.
The more he rested there, the more he became aware of his state of injury. The pain focused, his vision became less hazed, he did not linger on thoughts of the past world that seemed as a dream.
He slumped over to the flowing sewer waters and looked down.
Wha… what the… what the ****!
Those were the first words of his new life.
What happened to me? I-I’m a monster!
Blood was stained around his mouth from the rat with leftover fur. His head was smashed open on his left side. He had wounds from head to toe. It was a wreck, a zombie in his reflection. His eyes were glazed, his fingers bloodstained. His throat was torn open from his fight. He was disgusting. This once heavenly visage was now unrecognizable as human or vampire.
Maybe that was a good thing. To be ugly. How could Vasik seduce women, kill, and gain underworld enemies now? That would be great, but he knew soon he would recover. The more he thought about it though, the more he craved it. Women, blood, sex, killing…
What am I thinking?! I really am him…
What happened? Is this who I am?
He no longer could think nor move. He rested in the corner of the dark sewers.
He woke up with crusted eyes, flat on the grimy brick floor of the dark hollow in the sewers. A very familiar instance befell him, an object tied to his hand- his right hand this time- except this was not tied by him. A note was attached to the object, but he couldn't read it or see well after waking up. He rolled over so he could view the attachment through the dim light of the manhole around the corner. He lifted his left hand to rub his eyes out and hold the open wound on his head.
It was a cold, metal object. It was an oblong item with a long, barrel-shaped protrusion from one side. He pulled the note from between the string and the object, held it to the light.
"You're welcome."
He took a look at the object once more, and rubbed his hand against it. It was a gun.
The note... it was thick. It crumpled loudly and had a fabric-like texture. It was an envelope. He squeezed the metal tabs and pulled the flap's hole out, then dumped the contents on his chest.
Cash. Lots of it. There were a lot of ones, but it could easily be at least $70. Where did he get this kind of money? He didn't care anymore. He was actually grateful. He became more appreciative of his darker side now- doing dirty work he dared not to and not having to deal with guilt or recollection. He felt guilty that he had no guilt, but that passed by quickly.
I wonder if anyone will accept legal tender with blood splatters on it...
Once upon a time,
A prince fell in love with a beautiful girl. She was a wild and free being like the deer in the forest. She hid in the green of the woods and meadows outside the prince's kingdom.
The prince was supposed to be wed soon to succeed his father. The coronation will be swiftly upon them with the illness of the king growing more terminal.
The king of Vulcan was a violent tyrant whose empire was coveted by all. Fire, death and darkness spread as an unholy miasma around the far lands. The king was dying and would not give up his kingdom willingly. However, he swore with his dying breath that his power would be feared and remembered by all.
The king saw the prince's love for the wild girl and cried in an outburst of terror. His howl could be heard across the kingdom. He called upon a dark incantation, the magic reserved to the royal family, to summon a snatching demon.
"Throw the girl into the abyss."
The monster snarled and whispered in his head, staring with his blank, black sets of eye sockets.
If service is the thing you seek
I demand sight of the meek.
The king grew blind and the monster's middle eyes white. The hunt was on.
The prince was practicing his swordsmanship in the fields on the outskirts of the town in the soft sun when he saw his love running to him, screaming with panic in her eyes. The prince ran to her but the closer he got, the more fear curled his eyebrows up and his mouth gaped at the horrendous creature behind her. The presence of the black beast was such a surprising and frightening sight, a dreadful irony and sarcasm to the beauty around them.
The beast ran so fast the wind swept below him. His tracks left the grass black and slick.
The prince ran in front of the girl to face the beast, but the monster leaped so high and landed behind the prince. His terrible claws snatched the fair maiden and trampled through the brush far away.
The prince followed the blackened tracks for miles to the open, cracked and dry ground of the volcanic base. While catching his breath he looked upon his kingdom not so far below. He must go on.
The crater itself was still more miles away, but the crackled, sharp mountains and cliffs cradled a flat, open ground. In the center, the monster waited for him with the girl.
With a bloodcurdling roar echoing through the mountains and valleys, the monster stomped one foot on the ground, opening the earth below. It threw the girl inside.
The boy's heart stopped.
He was paralyzed in agony and fear. As tears rolled down his face he could hear the girl wail down into nothingness.
The monster bounded to the dark horizon.
The boy ran to the town and grabbed his best friend. He told him to tie a rope around his torso and climb down the cavern. The friend repelled down when they heard a snap. The prince pulled up the rope and saw it was cut clean. He never heard a struggle nor a cry. After a few seconds, the cracks in the crevice grew larger as it split the surface of the terrain.
The prince buckled to his knees. He was broken. As he screamed into the ashen sky, he collapsed in weakness from despair. Then the heavens opened and rain poured on the mourning boy. The rain continued for weeks but the crevice never filled up. Every day, people went missing. Every day, he returned to the pit. Every day, it grew larger…
She crawled up from her exit point and found the nearest manhole. She was able to shuffle through the small opening and slunk into the depths without being seen or heard. On her way to a silent resting pace, she saw a sight she would never forget.
He was asleep, covered in blood and absolutely disheveled. He was muttering in his sleep, twitching violently.
“sh---**** c-c-can’t get out… c-can’t get out… she-she’s going to… she’s going to… no… it’s my fault… my fault… k-k-k…kah….”
It was if he was shivering in the snow. She wanted to hold him, but she knew that his other self would try to kill her. It hurt her… It was so painful. She couldn’t do anything for them.
She took the midnight-blue, laced choker of her neck. It held a beautiful charm that he gave her once long ago in a different life. Long ago…
I’ve healed up a lot since then. My head is still pretty torn up but it will be gone in a day or two.
Logan sat up and leaned against the wall. Something fell off of his chest. He picked it up- silky smooth choker with beautiful details. It was her necklace. He put his finger across the charm and started to cry…
DAMNIT! SHE WAS SO CLOSE STUPID *****. ****... ****!!
YOU LEAVE HER THE HELL ALONE!
He clutched his head in pain. Then he grabbed the gun from his side and pointed it to his head.
I swear if you don’t shut up we’ll be back in the Shadow Realm before you can take me over.
… shouldn’t have given it to you- the point was to keep us alive, not dead.
The broken boy rose to his feet and took the necklace close to him. He caressed the charm delicately with his bloodied fingers. It was an astrological charm with the moon. The jewels around it represented the planets and the zodiacs. The silk had a constellation pattern that his mother made for him to give her when they were both young, playing fantasy games day to day. It was surprising to him how she kept it so long and continued to modify it to fit her as she grew up. It was such a stupid toy, but she kept it for so long, until now.
Her relinquishing it, does it mean she’s done with me or is she closer to me now?
The eagle overseer perched on the grotesques of the castle. Her jesses were embossed in the finest garnets and gold inlay. She had witnessed several years of tragedy through the kingdom. Day after day, more people would disappear. The western mountains would grow dark and roar with rock falls in the night. An endless cavern extended on the entire western border; the faint sun, covered by a thin, colorless film of gray clouds, set into the netherworlds day after day.
Rumors grew in the dark of the town. The snatching beast of the fire mountain was alive. Its eyes were indifferent but its teeth and claws were hungry. The more it snatched, the brighter his eyes shown on his blackened face. Still, only his middle set of eyes was lit. It was the ghost of the former king's wrath. Everyone knew of the royal family's ability to summon the demons of the fire mountain, but no one had witnessed it for five hundred years. No one believed it existed nor was taught from generation to generation. It was the only explanation.
The prince grew apathetic. Every day, he would return to his throne after battle and training, legs over one arm and sitting up the rest of the way, head cradled by an unmotivated palm. His concubines greeted him every day to his return. They were gathered around the world, birthday presents from his mother. He used them, but despised them as well.
His kingdom's world grew darker and darker. Everything the beast touched turned to soot, ash, and black stone. It was a cemetery, a dismal place for life. Thousands turned to one thousand. One thousand turned to five hundred.
The prince ceased expanding his empire. He returned his troops home. The neighboring countries anticipated a plot and were unaware of the condition of the kingdom of Vulcan. The prince indulged. He fought till he collapsed. He had intercourse daily. His mother just watched as his son fell to darkness. His eyes grew blank and tired.
Five hundred turned to fifty. The people starved. The women, children, and fathers were gone. He called to his eagle on the balcony of his bedroom, but she would not return. She had moved on.
Fifty turned to two. All alone. He was all alone with his mother. She called him over and cradled him in her arms as he cried, "What have I done…"
He abused the land. He cared nothing of the people around him. He did not prevent the black beast. He continued to fight and disregarded his duties to protect his land. He reflected his father too much that he loathed himself. His mother cried with him in the dark skies in the garden. Rain from her eyes, then from the sky.
The next day, the prince woke up all alone.
He was the only one left.
He walked through the streets, hungry and tired. He was so tired. There was nothing… nothing… dust, ash, stone. Dark skies. Then, behind him, he heard the beast.
"Have you come to take me too?"
The demon stared.
"Take me."
The demon smelled the air. He expressed satisfaction, completion of his task. He turned around and bounded back to the mountain.
"Take me… take me…," he pleaded.
"TAKE ME!!!"
It echoed in a quiet land.
The silence in the west grew ominous yet tantalizing to the other kingdoms. They wanted revenge and territory. Seven kingdoms banded together to take over Vulcan's land.
They arrived to a desolate land, a sight unseen and a place seen only in dreams. The band walked in silence and fear to the kingdom. The castle doors were open, but uninviting. At the end of the great hall, the prince sat there, as always, laid back. They approached the defeated young man.
"Leave this place," he said. His voice was demanding yet calm.
"By order of these seven kingdoms, we claim this place as our mutual territory."
"Leave this place."
"This is our land now. Leave unless you want to die."
"You have stolen my words."
The leader cringed with anger.
"We'll deal with him later. You, inspect the city. You, find the queen. I will find their secret art." "You don't believe it exists, do you?!" "I do." Gossip arose in the band of warriors. The rest were divided accordingly and left the prince to himself and the leader to be questioned.
"Is it true?"
The prince did not meet his eye contact. The intruder put a knife to his neck.
"Do you really want to see it?" The prince kicked the warrior back down the steps to the throne and stood up. He went to the middle of the room where the dragon seal lay, kneeled down, and sliced his hand with a knife from his sleeve. His eyes turned red, his face's expression contorted with fervor. He muttered a most aggressive incantation.
The statues aligning the walls of the hall broke free and crawled forth with their massive claws. From the ground grew a light from the inscriptions and seal below, mimicking the lava on the mountain. Shadows crawled and demons sprouted from the shadows around the prince in a circle. The beast in front of him whispered in a dark, untranslatable, echoing voice.
The prince nearly nodded. "Your price will have been repaid." The beasts screeched and ripped apart the leader. His flesh was sweet and his blood cold against their hot bodies. The men returned to the screams of their leader being eaten alive.
The ground began to shake. The seal grew hotter and brighter. The men in terror left, but they would not escape.
The prince turned walked, passing his slaves to his throne and sat the same way as usual, seemingly apathetic but with tears rolling down, evaporating as they touched the ground.
"My penance…"
He closed his eyes, ready to die.
The kingdom was buried in the pyroclastic flow of the eruption.
He never knew peace before he died.
Everything was silent for the rest of eternity. No one dared to return.
The snatching beast's eyes grew dark again. This was now his domain.
Vasik climbed up to get out of the sewer. When he lifted his head to the street, his face was welcomed by a beautiful set of shoes. “I don’t need your charity…”
- - - - -
He made his way to the streets. Hiding in the shadows, he slid in the backside ally of a simple shop. He was able to slip out in a new wardrobe, clean of blood and complete with a hat to cover his open wound. It was a slick outfit. He wanted to be clean-cut at least. His bright red hair was still visible under the sharp fedora. His tie matched his hair color, a nice unifying element. There were pinstripes in his vest that were a faint darkish grey. The white shirt underneath was a little big for him, but it was what he could find without being caught. To finish it off, he swiped some used shoes, a broken watch, and some antique shades from the used clothes store. He wanted to stay as undercover and out of trouble as possible, for he was still weak inside but didn’t want to show it. His old clothes were thrown in the dumpster around the corner.
He held the blue choker in his hand for a few still seconds, clenched it, and shoved it in his pocket.
He craved the nightlife, but the only thing he knew he could get away with was simple, degrading pickpocketing. That’s all he knew he could do for now while under so little stamina. He went to the casino and stayed quiet, making a quick buck.
He was getting tired, and he needed to find a place of rest. The casino was no fun since he had to lurk in the shadows constantly. He wanted nightlife. He wanted to live again, but he knew he couldn't. He tried his best to fade out and blend in but his red hair was so loud. He was also quite the eye-candy. But given his mood and stand-offishness at the time, he was able to keep away from people and go unnoticed for the most part.
He went outside to find a place to stay. Gullsboro seemed promising, lots of quiet, abandoned places there. He needed time to sleep and think quietly in a place away from stench. A place to relax, with maybe a beaten-up couch like the one in his "home."
He went to the Wickbridge Station and headed off. After a quick bank deposit of pocketed cash, he found his way to an abandoned shop, very unlike the one he had commandeered. His energy was so low... he was so exhausted. It had been a long week.
He went in. Another vampire was taking refuge there but paid no mind to each other. The other was resting as well, in the shadows. He wanted to explore more- this was more of a department store than a small business like where he lived.. He wanted to crawl away to a more private area.
Then.. around the corner.. he heard an unnatural, inhuman moan...
SHHHHIT! ****! ****! NO, GOD NO.
He dashed around the corner once more, afraid it had seen him. He was trying to catch his breath, but it was not enough. He had to stifle the noise, but it was too painful for him.
****... GOD NOT HERE. NOT NOW...
A summoned fadebeast... his worst fear...
NO. NO. NO. NO. NO... I CAN'T MOVE!! COME ON, MOVE!!
He was too tired and paralyzed in fear. It moved closer... and closer... He grabbed his gun and then...
He blacked out.
Did he faint because he was weak and low of energy? Or did he pass out in fear? Either way, when he awoke, he was in such a daze he didn't remember what made him pass out all at once. After a few minutes and some struggling getting up, then... he remembered.
He gasped and held his breath, eyes wide and eyebrows crumpled in fear. He looked around the corner.
It was gone...
He crawled around the shop in the shadows. He heard no sound, no moans. It seemed as if he was safe.
Now was the time to safely and securely, calmly... delicately... hyperventilate. After his panic attack subsided, his collected thoughts reviewed his situation. He was weak. He wasn't just physically weak, but he was mentally weak. He had passed out. That disgusted him. He was ashamed, angry, and disappointed.
He needed something... to do something...
I need power... control...
I need an army.
I need children.
But they'll hold me back... I work alone.
****.
He had no choice, but he didn't want to think about it for the moment. He left, wound almost healed, left to pickpocket once more.
She had to feed. She was so hungry... She was tired about thinking of their history together. She remembered...
They had been childhood crushes, growing up only a couple of blocks from each other. It was simply the immaculate personification of purity.
Her parents passed away, and she was moved to the orphanage far away. They grew separate for twelve years.
He found someone new, someone that reminded him of her. She dreamed of meeting him again one day when he couldn't wait. He had a bad life, he needed that old, clean source of carefree stress relief again. Tragedy befell him right before she returned...
She didn't want to think about it.
So hungry... so weak.
She found a human on the outskirts of town, alone. She walked up to her prey and was ready to take him, but it was a trap. The hunter appeared to be a lone, defenseless human, but this one had eyes of fury and clenching teeth of revenge. Seeing she was already beaten pretty bad, he only gave her a small parting gift, a critical wound to the head. Then, he spat on her, and walked away.
She was flat on the ground, bleeding. She had only begun to recover. It would take her a week to fully heal.
Damnit... Why... I was just so hungry... I wasn't going to kill him... Ugh...
I'm weak. I need strength. What do I lack? I lack allies. I lack power and experience. I'm healed, I have weapons, but I need something more...
He broke in to buildings. Rebellion flew through his blood. He wanted attention, the adrenaline rush. The guards came for him.
"You sure you know how to handle that weapon? Want me to show you how?"
He winked. The guard shivered as his terrible smile flashed bright with fangs, his eyes bright and slit like the ultimate predator.
The guard fell dead as the alarms echoed through the windows.
A few run-ins with some gangsters yielded an elite hunting knife and some crystal meth. He had some of it to relax, but it was only temporary. The effects were extremely short and unsatisfying.
He walked around town, agitated and distressed. He was losing himself but he didn't care. The two were becoming one.
He hopped the fence of the hunting grounds. His lineage sire was there. He didn't know him personally, but he felt it in his blood, curling over inside of him. He was intimidated, yet in awe of his majesty of grace and pure power. As he passed him, he gave him a quick "Hello, Sire" and left. He got chills down his spine from his presence. It was intoxicating...
They were... envious.
He encountered several beasts; wolves, bears, mountain lions. He killed them all. He spent a week training and killing and relieving stress. He grew more and more with every day and every kill. The ones that got away made him fore frustrated, but made him grow more diligent and focused.
Dozens of beasts fell under his terror and anger.
The hunting grounds were slightly popular. He hated that, but loved the competition for the kill. He passed a fellow Dragomir, Wafa, beautiful and graceful.
"Hello, Vasik" she said.
She is too delicate for this. I'll show her my power.
Day in and day out, blood spilled forth on the slick grounds in the forest. The twilight was an excellent time of day. Twilight was his favorite time of day. His fingertips were stained crimson. Sanguine. It had gotten to the point where he had simply too much bounty from his hunts that he must sell it all. His imagination ran wild as his funds accumulated. Maybe he would get an uzi. Maybe a custom knife? Maybe he would get an aluminum bat. That was his favorite. He loved his claws and a true beating, but he knew guns were more effective. But the brutality of a blunt object was difficult to resist.
Strolling through the woods, stuck in his fantasy, he came across a strange presence. He felt uneasy. If his heart still beat, it would have stopped...
"The shadows seem thicker in this area, and sounds seem strangely muted."
25, 18, wilderness in the Hunting Grounds.
She was still severely injured from the human hunter's gunshot wound. It would take an immense time to heal. It hurt her so, but she needed to get her mind off of things. She grabbed a simple knit hat from a department warehouse and made her way to the casino.
She spent all of her days as a lowly pickpocket, but it payed well in the gambling arena. She had racked up quite a bit and was saving for some self-defense equipment. She made her way to the bank... but then...
"The shadows in this area seem fleeting, darting about just on the edge of vision, giving an uneasy atmosphere."
A break in the story of Celestia Lunae will continue until further notice. Character account deleted at this time.
Alert: Phoenix says: "-Gasped- A wild fiance appeared!"
Vasik was resting in the hunting grounds under the quiet company of a fellow Worthington, Malachai. He wasn't sure if the presence that flew through the trees was taunting him or the other resting fellow. He just scoffed and let it pass.
Vasik had been training day in and out for the past week. He was tired, but much stronger. Still, there was something he felt like he was lacking.
I must grow. I can feel it, I'm so much stronger now... but I need allies...
In the cafe'.
He had gotten more accustomed to conversing with the rest of his clan. Although tiresome, he searched long and hard for some connection, a sign for him. There was so much of this sense of "family" with the Dragomir d'Artois, enough to make him want to puke. But he knew, strength came in numbers, and if he had to play nice, he would play nice, much unlike his first encounter with Mortll, attacking her in a high-security zone out of mania, thus being banished to death.
While browsing the CrowNet, he attempted some measly hacks that were very unsuccessful. In frustration, he growled and brought some unwanted attention.
The cops entered through the doors, and Vasik took his nonchalant leave, brooding in his head towards the new high security in the desolate little Canadian town. Vampire-phobia is growing. Vasik can't blame the humans as he treads this earth.
[[OOC]]The following is a documentation of a role play session between Shiva and Vasik on YIM. Below it I have added on Vasik's personal reaction and plan to build from it. It has been edited to fit forum context.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Shiva leaned up against a door frame as she spied him. "Hello there."
He lacked interest. He knew she was there. He simply looked over his shoulder and went back to hacking, not caring who saw him or not. Quite reckless indeed but indifferent.
With her hands in her pockets she made her way towards him, leaning over to glance at his screen while he hacked. The process was boring to her as her caste, and ironically his caste, were not suited to it.
He grew agitated. His right eyebrow curled into itself as he stumbled around the cybernet with this girl over his shoulder. His sharp nails tapped tapped tapped away as he struggled through his files working on his most successful hack yet, not quite a feat at all.
Impassively she watched, silently. Her sharp gaze turning down as he tapped and smiled feeling that she was at least part of his irritated action. The thought pleased her greatly as she began to hum hoping to increase it.
Tap, tap, tap and with a final agitated pounding on the "enter" key, the hack was done. His first successful one yet. He felt accomplished, but he knew he would get the hang of it sooner or later. He smirked a little, ignoring the girl behind him. While the bank files were downloading, he made his way to the CrowNet, hoping to spend enough time looking up bounties and writing them down so that the girl would get bored and skip off.
Watching him at work her steady gaze remained where it was, taking note of his work and refusing to leave until she'd gained at least one of her favoured outcomes. Seeing him go to the CrowNet she smirked at all the high bounties she'd already taken stock of. Killing would be good.
The more he went on the more he became disinterested in what he was doing physically and more interested in how to get rid of this chick eyeing him down. He took the beaten 3-inch notebook and shoved it in his pocket, smoothly got out of the chair, span around and went out the door of the cafe towards the quarantine zone gate.
Giving him a moment, then two she smiled and slowly followed him to her favourite part of the city. Idly she wondered how long it would take him to respond or what she'd have to break off to even get that much.
Hoping to lose her and hoping that she wasn't a killer, he used his superjump to scale the gates quietly without the guards noticing. He stopped for a moment, smirked, and then ran into the tainted town.
She arched her brow as he leapt and felt the baser nature surface as she took one step back and jumped after him, digging her sharp claws into the earth where she landed. A hunt? How wonderfully entertaining, she mused as she set off into the darkness following his scent.
He could smell her sent in the still air. He couldn't focus like this. He'd have to get rid of her before he could work his plan. He broke into an abandoned shop, took a chair, went to the adjacent alley, and took a seat there, looking towards the dim-lit opening waiting for her.
Finding the lock busted and door slight ajar she could smell him all over the place and see his tracks. Obviously not putting much effort to losing her she took it as some sort of sign though it had a few off-shoot options. Pushing the door open and letting it crash loudly against the wall she saw the male sitting, waiting and gave a sideways grin.
"So lovely miss. What brings you to me this fine evening? Can't resist my charm?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly as she stalked gracefully towards him. There was only the barest hint of her heels clicking with each step as she'd trained herself some stealth. "So you do have a voice."
Still quite ticked off from the intrusion to his presence, the more she walked forward the more he frowned. He started tapping his right heel from agitation, approximately three taps for every muted click of her heels, almost like an echoing waltz. He could feel himself growl on the inside ever so deeply and silently. He knew he was weak and new, but he was too stubborn to show it to the superior before him.
The same cocked smirk was still on her lips as she approached but instead of staying before him she walked around him almost eying up potential prey. "So quickly silenced once more. That will never do."
He ground his teeth. He couldn't take it anymore. With a great inhale through his clenched jaws, he lunged up, folded the chair, and lashed it out towards the stalker with a great roar.
Not having expected the attack her eyes flashed wide as he swung it towards her, smashing into her arm and making her stumble slightly as she bared her fangs. Physical reaction was something she was very keen on. Understood. Grinning darkly she leaped at him, her sharp claws outstretched.
He was tense, ready for the fight. He was unsure, but he let his brute strength and anger take the best of him. It always got him through somehow. He crouched, then lunged towards her head on.
Colliding with him she snarled, snapping her teeth at him as they fell to the ground. Her nails driving into his flesh, straight through clothing as if it weren't there.
Somehow, she had found his weak spot, his death wound he was still healing from. With a short yell, he gripped her throat with his claws and squeezed tight, hoping to sever something vital, cutting deeper and deeper. He curled up his left leg between them to kick her away from his abdomen.
The pressure of his strong fist along her throat and claws clenching was uncomfortable, painful even and though breathing wasn't necessary she still did out of habit. A gurgled growl erupted from her throat as she continued to snap her sharp teeth. her hands drew down coating the floor in red as her nails shredded his abdomen to his waist.
He knew he wasn't strong enough to win the fight, but he was pissed as hell and didn't want to give in either way. His death wound penetrated his pain tolerance heavily, but he had just enough strength to kick her away across the room.
Rolling from the kick she slipped to her knees, poised to strike again but only watched him. The lazy, cocky smile was on her lips again as she licked her fingertips of his blood. She'd remember his scent and taste wherever she found it now. "You're a fun one."
He was only able to hoist himself on an elbow and he cringed, cradling the area around his heavily scarred wound. Breathing deeply in anger, he glared at her from the top of his eyes, growling enough to be heard now.
His growl had her smile widen as she rose up and walked back towards him slowly, crouching down a few feet from where he was, out of his reach but close enough as she studied him. Her red eyes going to his wound, admiring his blood, before meeting his own eyes. "Now, now buttercup. You started this fight I thought you wanted to play."
He was stupid, but he didn't care. He was impulsive, and not in the mood. He restrained the urge to spit on her due to his innate chivalry, but he remained silent as he sat upwards, waiting for her to continue her taunts.
She sighed watching him, standing and dusting herself off. "I came to introduce myself but since you decided to be a prick about it I followed you instead." She walked over to the chair he had thrown, picking it up, unfolding and sitting on it while crossing her legs. "Shiva, not that you give a damn."
You're right, I don't." He got to his feet and started walking towards the door. "**** off. I'm busy."
"Mouthy ******** aren't you? You didn't look too busy with your little toy there. Maybe you should work on your attacks instead of goofing off like a dumbass."
Knowing he was terribly outmatched, he used all of his willpower to shrug off the comment and leave the shop. He knew she would follow. He had to think of a way to lose her without fighting. The only way would be to go back to "civilization" and lose her in a crowd. He would have to spread his scent everywhere along the way to distract her, but he calculated that would take too much energy. He walked around the corner in the darkening twilight, meditating on kicking an open cup down the street as he thought.
She watched him go before slowly licking the rest of his blood from her hands. She considered rising and following behind him but in all honesty she had no real desire for such nonsense. She'd tried to be social and had wanted to ask him a question but his attitude dulled the slight intrigue of the fight, weighing him in the 'boring' category. Rather disappointed she left the place and went hunting for zombies to ease her frustration.
He faintly heard her heels behind him. He turned to see her walking away. Was it a trick? Was he paranoid? He couldn't focus on the future, only the now. If she wasn't going to follow like an inoperable tumor, he could work out his plan. He went to the town and searched for his bounties. He knew the good people, those that sought redemption in the fields of zombies and killing the little vermin. He wanted their heads. For fun. For pleasure. For the irony of them trying to redeem themselves but giving their location away. He adored irony, and antagonistic intentions at that. The thought of cop-killers looking for redemption wailing in pain under him aroused him. He made one with the shadows and went deeper into the city.
End of YIM chat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"How dare she..."
Splatter.
The zombie's brains splattered across the abandoned fire department's blackened brick wall.
"Stupid *****..."
Thud.
The zombie's entrails decorated the gravestones in the graveyard. Tainted testaments to human lives.
"**** her!"
Splash.
The zombie's coagulated blood accented the street sidewalk, already stained with several other fights before. His combat boots were covered in the scum of the remains he had conquered for the last hour.
For the second time, he was put in his place once more. He was angry and upset. He needed control. He dare not fight those on the bounty alone through what he had just experienced. His powers had grown exceedingly so the past couple of weeks, but it wasn't enough. He had to catch up somehow.
He needed manipulation. He needed allies.
Crack.
A zombies' skull was shattered under Vasik's tremendous blow.
"I'm not getting anything from this ********. I'm heading back to the hunting grounds where I can at least get SOMETHING."
He leaped like a gazelle over the quarantine gates ever so silently, still covered in grime.
His inventory was crowded from spoils. He went to sell them and buy more hacking equipment. Maybe through his mind training he would gain intelligence and speechcraft of which he so desired. While taking a break after his afternoon hack, he browsed the CrowNet for anything exciting to be heard.
He saw something, or rather someone of interest...
Vasik typed up a quick email and sent the pm to this stranger, Myk. After reading for what seemed like hours on the forums, he had found some glimmer of hope. Some sort of sign. Myk seemed like an easily swayed specimen, a telepath at that. Oh, how he desired being a bender of minds, whether an allurist or a telepath. But he could not deny that being a killer what how he was meant to be. Instead, he must find others to do his work for him.
He was restless. He wanted a reply. He wanted to meet this Myk. He grew irritable.
There was so much environmental, both mental and physical, stress on him now. He had to de-stress somehow. He felt like he was back in the beginning with no where to go.
He went to the Worthington and Dragomir forums. Oh how he loathed them so. They're so pretentious and loving and family-cuddly helping each other together in an army of caring. It repulsed him. He hated them. He had to admit that such a large body of vampires banded together was an unstoppable force, but he couldn't take being a part of something he didn't control. It would be easier if the Worthingtons weren't as large or strong, because they would be easier to avoid or ignore. Yet, he somehow felt he depended on them. He wasn't sure why...
"Nick Bowstrong, now that's a guy I'd like to meet." He read the farewells of Nick to the Worthington clan, a formidable enough force and well-respected enough to take a leave from his lineage.
Sex. Drugs. Alcohol. He needed something. The world weighed him down. This life was meant to be something better...
Vasik logged off and went outside, slowly making his way to nowhere.
She's gone, I know it...
I don't even give a damn anymore. Just leave me be.
Logan was dying.
Vasik had total control now. Ever since Serena disappeared off of the map, Vasik grew to be the sanity of the body rather than the possession. He was liking it very much.
But somehow, he made it back to his abandoned shop. His feet, step by step, innately lead him there. He was visibly very confused when he looked up and realized where he was. He made his way inside.
Clunk, clunk went his boots on the ground until he reached the pile of glass from his many alcoholic beverages. Crunch... crunch... crunch... crunch on the glass...
Then, he stopped. Straight posture but sagged shoulders, he stared down at the low, splintered coffee table and the torn-up couch. Everything was silent for a few seconds, still as a photograph.
He paused and reflected on what had happened since then. It had been so long. Between the siring and his last visit here, he had lived the "life." Women, sex, drugs, booze. Now, he was fighting. Fighting for his dignity. For power. And control. What was he doing? He was stuck... Just... stuck.
He focused on the blood he left behind. The ink and tattered papers. He felt the urge to burn this place down, but he felt too attached, like a teenager to his teddybear, a duckling to its mother. This was somehow his comfort, but he couldn't let it go. The imprint was just enough powerful, it was annoying.
What's wrong with me? What... what's going on?
[-Killer-][-Shifter-]
☩ Owner of The Lions Den (8DM 2F 10,1) ☩ RL Name: Erik ☩ YIM: Red_Vasik ☩
Banner by Myk
A mouse had found her way through the broken floorboards. She scuddled around, following the baseboards of the wall on the opposite side. Vasik would not look down at her. She sniffled, scurried, and made her way to the massive, dark monolith that was his right shoe. She found a shoelace and started chewing, a cute scritching sound in the lonely grey atmosphere. She found some zombie residue near the heel, tried it, and the sneezed. She obviously didn't take a liking to it.
The tiny sneeze alerted his senses. If he were a cat, one would have noticed his ears twitching towards the sound like a set of soft, silent satellite dishes. He finally looked down upon the poor creature, unknowing of the presence of the dark and powerful fiend above her.
He took his left thumb and index finger and delicately picked up the mouse by its tail. The sad and desperate squeaking was muted by the fogged windows in the cold air.
He examined the poor beast, spun it around in his hands. He lifted it above his head and made the mouse stare into his blank eyes. As soon as the small rodent captured his gaze. All went silent. Was it fear or connection?
Seconds lasted for hours.
Vasik opened his mouth, revealing his fangs to the poor creature. She began to scream her little squeals once more when she saw the terrible canines as big as her head coming closer.
He collapsed on the couch with no regards to the comfort of his passenger. After he galumphed on the couch, He delicately placed the mouse on his dirtied-up white shirt. The mouse, extremely frightened, circled around ever so slowly before sniffing around and venturing the hills of his abs. She started to chew at the hems of the sleeve of his leather jacket. She ventured her way down and saw an opening in a slightly baggy pocket. Knowing the gnawing powers of the rodent, Vasik took caution. With his free arm, he cupped his hand around his groin, afraid this awfully small, insignificant being could cause a slight bit of pain to a terrible vampire. He wasn't sure, but he didn't want to find out.
Was he soft, or playing with the small animal for kicks? Was it Logan or Vasik? What was it he was feeling inside?
He closed his eyes, focusing on the bitty footsteps of the tender paws, now to the left of his bellybutton. He stretched his left arm over his eyes and laid his right hand on his chest next to the quiet, investigating animal.
Then, he heard a voice. A beautiful girl's voice. A music box in his head, just as before...
It lulled him. From the crevice his arm made with his eyes, a small, delicate drop of water streamed down as he fell into his slumber.
He felt heavy. He was falling. Everything was dark, until he noticed his eyes were closed.
When they had opened, everything was blurred completely. It took quite a few moments for things to adjust. He was falling to earth, but ever so lightly. Everything was so heavy. Such a compressing feeling in his chest...
The sky was a golden red. The sun was a penetrating orange. He was frightened. He thought he would burn. He sheltered his eyes and curled up as he braced himself against the light, but nothing happened.
The sun, it was obnoxiously orange. The earth was orange. A blood-orange.
He got closer to the town below, then fell slower and slower until his feet touched the ground. He was in slow-motion. Then, he rose to assess his surroundings.
There were pieces of Harper Rock smashed together in this strange place. The buildings were blackened as if by a fire, but rotting as if made of wood.
The texture of the world was that of sand, of shadow, of slime, and bone. Cracked earth, ashen foliage, everything glowed in the sun except the darkness that spread. The shadows were starkly powerful.
He just wanted to get away from the light. It was painful to his heart. He wasn't sure why, but he put the sun to his back and walked along the main road.
Some dust billowed through the streets. He tried his best to get away, but he didn't feel like running. Something was following him and he couldn't get away, no matter how he tried.
He bolted into an alleyway sheltered by shadow and found a small door falling to pieces. He closed the unfamiliar door only to look around and see a most familiar sight. The couch, the bottles, the blood and journals.
He remembered the mouse. For some reason he thought of it now, somehow missing it.
Then, the windows grew brighter and brighter. So much orange.So much fire and light. So much pain.
He screamed, trying to cover himself with his arms until he knew only light.
He woke up to his screaming in a sweat. Could vampires sweat? Apparently so. Gasping for breath, he was frightened by his surroundings, afraid the sun would come, but all was dark. Calm, quiet, and dark.
He could still see orange. So much orange. It eventually faded away into the black he so desired. Black, it comforted him. It cradled him. It kept him safe and cold. Cold was his warmth. Cool, calm, collected against his fiery hair. His fiery moods. His fiery will. It was his opposite. It was his balance. Night was a comforting hand that stroked his smooth skin. She was a silky blanket that was personified in protection.
All was silent, except for the quiet breathing of a comforting animal on his chest. He saw with his precise night vision, his reflective cat-like eyes, slit with the Dragomir eyelids, that the little mouse companion had awaken from his startling. She blinked in her eyes, looked at him, and then curled back down to sleep in his breast.
He somehow felt protected by this beast. Maybe she was the night. Maybe this poor little creature was the spirit of the fall of the sun. Maybe it is not a wolf that chases the sun but a mouse?
Maybe she would ward off his nightmares...
He went back to sleep, even though it was night, the vampire's day.
Dreaming as if a child... slumbering in sweat and comfort...
How long did he sleep? It couldn't be. It was already twilight breaking through the windows. He was glad the windows did not directly face the sun.
Was it the next day? Or the day after? Or a week after? When was it?
Then... from the back of his memory...
The mouse!
He hectically, yet clumsily fell from his makeshift bed, scuddling on the floor for any sign of the creature. He sniffed and smelled and investigated. He tore apart the place with his eyes and nose, but there was no trace of the mouse ever being there.
Maybe his senses were gone. Maybe Logan woke up and he dreamed it, or maybe he took over for a few days and Vasik didn't know about it.
Was Vasik getting weaker at heart? Was Logan becoming Vasik? Who were Vasik and Logan?
Who the **** am I?!!
He sat down on his couch, head cradled in his palms, arms resting on his knees. He looked down and found a secret stash of booze, barely visible from under the fringed hems of the couch. He took the first bottle his hands could grip- a bottle of jack. It was the same drink he remembered last having before he came home that other night, before he left for so long...
He chugged it down. It warmed him like the warm sun. So... warm... As soon as he thought of that blazing orange color, he choked and coughed up some of the precious booze.
After nastily cleansing his tongue and reading the label, looking for some guarantee or evidence of some glorious-ness he was missing, his aggravation got the best of him and forced him to throw the bottle to the wall by the door, adding to what will soon become a heap rather than just a small coating of glittering shards of glass.
He fumbled around for another bottle. This time mead. He took a good swig.
"UGH!"
Even more blood-orange-flavored, if there were such a thing. It was so hot and warm. How could he have liked this so much beforehand? He slung it with the other debris, now leaking with a toxic concoxiion of liquor and glimmering glass dust.
Then Bailey's Irish Cream.
"Ahh..."
Much more smooth, more cool. This one was a nice, misty teal.
He sat back, propped his heavy boots on the table (yes, he had slept in his boots, jacket and all), and took a rather nice, healthy gulp.
He saw a shot glass on the table, next to the overturned ink bottle.
He kicked it off.
The sound of breaking glass, he loved it.
It was beautiful, the cracking, relieving of strained bonds. Letting lose, spending energy. It was just what he needed.
He pulled out another bottle from below. Wine. As classy as he thought he once was, prince and all, he pitched it to the wall. The wall now had a mosaic of amber-colored substances eeking down the cracking plaster.
Amber like his eyes. His glorious, brilliant, whiskey-filled irises like liquid amber itself.
This place really is cheap, no wonder it was abandoned.
He pitched another bottle, then another, then another shot glass he found, never moving from his comfortable spot with his legs propped up.
Then, he heard the front door's knob turning. Who was it? He didn't care; they were getting a face full of glass and spiced rum.
The door opened only to reveal a most familiar face...
CRASH!
The bottle of rum slipped from his cold hands, surprised and numb at the sight of the intruder in his safe-haven.
It was... himself.
[-Killer-][-Shifter-]
☩ Owner of The Lions Den (8DM 2F 10,1) ☩ RL Name: Erik ☩ YIM: Red_Vasik ☩
Banner by Myk
Vasik sat up in a surprised jolt, throwing the bottle right through the apparition of himself.
"That's one way to greet a visitor."
A blank stupor remained on his visage.
"...w-what?"
The intruder walked casually to Vasik, took a drink from the table, and chugged it down. His final gulp ended with a conceited "ahh" and a toss of the bottle to the pile of glass.
"Hello me. How do I do?"
"Well **** me..."
"I have, several times," the mirror jested.
Vasik let out an aggrivated sigh. Just one more thing he had to deal with in life...
"Look, we need to work together. Trust me, you'll want to listen."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Because I'm you. You don't have a choice."
Vasik spat on the floor.
"...and... I know how to get rid of Logan."
Vasik's head did not move, but his eyes shifted suspiciously to the pacing interloper. He was so little of a people-person he could barely deal with himself.
"Well, not forever. But he wouldn't want to interfere with our fun."
"What the hell are you talking about. Get to the point."
"Woah now. You can't get rid of me until I say I'm done. And that won't happen until your curiosity is satisfied. Believe me, I know you."
The mirror-self continued to strut back and forth between the boarded window and table. His footsteps made an annoying ticking sound as if he were truly there. They made Vasik's ears twitch, his eyes cringe as he tried to drown it out with the sound of the chilling draft.
The mirror got tired of waiting for a response, sensing he was being ignored. He rushed up to Vasik, grabbed his chin, and like an angry, stern mother said, "Look at me. Look."
Vasik's expression was like a temperamental eight-year-old. The mother-figure's nonexistent hand balled into a fist. They both looked at it, Vasik in disbelief. A small smirk from the mirror was short-lived, followed by disgusted anger and a kick back of his fist.
WHAM!
Vasik's right eye began to blacken in an instant, but he showed no signs of pain or surprise. The mirror took his chin up again in his left hand and yelled at the top of his lungs.
"LOOK AT ME!!"
Frowning, Vasik's eyes finally shifted to that of his own, the whiskey eyes.
"What I'm about to propose is something that will take quite a bit on your part to change your attitude. We need some poise, some people-skills, some tolerance. 'K mate?"
The fingers on Vasik's chin began to tighten, forcing open his mouth to show his fangs. He began seething with fury.
"We need to lie low. You know how weak we really are. Until we build up, we have to blend in. The busier we are, the less Logan will bother us."
The vice grip released on Vasik's cheeks. He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve.
"What do you suggest?"
"A venue."
"A what?"
"Think of it. The business, the cash, the chicks and drink. All you could ever want. You may even put that attractive voice to some good use."
"But where could we get the money like that?"
"All in good time. Logan saved up quite a bit so far."
"Logan, doing something productive? Tsk."
"Yeah, he's been up to something, maybe just earning a quick buck to keep his mind off things, but you've noticed the bank account looks quite healthy."
I've been selling your blood and putting you on the bounty list you ********.
For Vasik, one's a crowd. He wasn't sure how long Logan had been around, and his mood was just on the edge of an erupting volcano.
"Everyone get the **** OUT!" His eyes squinched in anger; grabbing his head, he bore his teeth and let loose a howl through the abandoned store. He slowly opened his eyes to hear nothing, see nothing unusual, but he could still feel the pain in his eye.
He was alone again, finally.
A venue, he thought to himself. Not a bad idea.
[-Killer-][-Shifter-]
☩ Owner of The Lions Den (8DM 2F 10,1) ☩ RL Name: Erik ☩ YIM: Red_Vasik ☩
Banner by Myk
To save up money, Vasik was now partially in the robbing business. He did not want to confront the humans, so he kept casualties to a minimum. The annoyances of encounters distracted him from his mindset goal, something the beast was unusually drawn to.
If I can renovate the shop I have, I could easily make a living and build stronger connections. I'd like to stay there, but my sire is so insistent on living with her children. I'd rather live in the dump I have.
Vasik was nearly done for the day, heading out to sell his loot, when he smelled a most familiar scent...
It was so palpable, the recognizable scent of his sire, but somewhat corrupted.
It must be a fellow childe of Cat.
He had no interest in getting to know his family, but this one was drawing too much attention to himself to ignore. Julius, his name was, started a skirmish. Vasik always loved watching a fight, but when Julius noticed he was being watched, he lashed out at Vasik. Vasik deftly dodged the attack...
"Because we're blood brothers, I'll leave you with a warning."
With the dexterity of an eagle's claw lunging for prey, Vasik's clawed hand swooped up one of Julius's legs, slamming him down on the ground in a single, fluid motion. He knelt down, laid the leg on top of his, and pounded down on the leg.
CRACK! The bone was broken.
The kneeling position was the perfect stance for him to jump into the air, lunging for the top of the factory building nearby. With a smirk filled with glee, a slight manacle chuckle slid sickly through his teeth and echoed in the atmosphere.
He had no desire to report the skirmish, nor did he mind that humans may have seen. As long as he was feared and respected, today was a good day.
Vasik went to the Interwebs Cafe and left an email for his sire.
Now don't go losing your connections. You don't need to make her angry if you can help it. Just tell her the simple facts.
"Sup Moms.
You got a new childe or somethin'? He smells like one of us. Caught him in a skirmish then tried to take a whack at me. Since he's one of us I didn't report it, just let him off with a warning hit.
-V"
[-Killer-][-Shifter-]
☩ Owner of The Lions Den (8DM 2F 10,1) ☩ RL Name: Erik ☩ YIM: Red_Vasik ☩
Banner by Myk
So much had happened in the past few days it was hard to keep track. Time ran together like colored inks in water. His grandsire, Doc, had tried to steal from him, there was a confrontation about that, and he met up with his sire and actually TALKED, and allowed Logan to come forth. He did feel some thanks towards his sire, a slightly expressed sense of loyalty and God forbid cooperative attitude. But if it weren't for her, Vasik would not exist.
But neither would his mirror.
The mirror had come forth only once for now, but something told Vasik that it was no mild hallucination. His injury lasted a whole day from the event. He was sort of curious as to how he appeared when the mirror confronted him. Was he actually hurting himself or was the mirror truly real?
He could feel that Logan did not feel directly threatened by the mirror. What a lucky ********. The mirror seemed as if it were stemmed from Vasik, like he was from Logan, a base for survival in the vampire world.
Still, since no more episodes had happened since the first, Vasik kept himself busy with stealing and saving money. He could feel himself grow stronger every day. He ran faster, his arms swung with more force and power, his eyes could see farther. And his bank account grew larger every day.
Unfortunately, he knew he lacked people and business skills to get this venue off of the ground.
That may be why I'm getting along so well with Cat, he chuckled.
His encounter with Cat made Logan appear weaker than he wanted to know. When Cat asked to see him, he obliged for her, but regretted it after he saw how emotionally weak he was. However, it was the first time Logan had spoken with anyone since the turning. That did have some strength in himself.
Vasik felt revolted at the weakness inside of him. It wasn't his own, and yet it was. If he was caught off guard with Logan at the reigns in this violent society, who knows what reputation could bring him down.
It's hard work, working for such a harsh exterior.
Shut up, you twat.
Wow, I'm bothering YOU for once? Should I take revenge and point out all of your flaws?
Vasik steamed on his couch, looking out the cracks of the boarded window, watching the ocassional shadow pass by.
I shouldn't. You have it hard enough with the mirror.
Damn straight.
Were he and his alter ego actually agreeing on something?
If I were you, I'd find a way to fight back.
If you were me, you'd take it like the pussy you were.
You mean the pussy WE are.
Tsk.
He hasn't always been around. We have to find out how he came about.
Inside, he felt Logan thinking about what would happen if the mirror thrived, if it would threaten or hurt him too. The mirror's goal seemed to be to want to destroy Logan, or at least have him slump away. If he could appeal to Vasik's ideals a little, maybe they could work something out.
Vasik was disgusted by the feelings he read in his own mind, but there still could be truth in them. If he could at least figure out how the mirror was born...
In the meantime, Logan would help tutor Vasik in business affairs and people-skills while he trained on his singing voice. He could feel himself closer to attaining his goals, and it felt good.
[-Killer-][-Shifter-]
☩ Owner of The Lions Den (8DM 2F 10,1) ☩ RL Name: Erik ☩ YIM: Red_Vasik ☩
Banner by Myk
Things seemed to be going well for Vasik's new year. He had finally set up his venue, started advertising for a Battle of the Bands event, and was feeling great. Surprisingly, Logan seemed cooperative, even with the daily feedings.
It all went south on the second day of the new year.
At first, one of the speakers broke which lost the business some popularity. No big deal. His first feeding today turned around and shot him. Still, no big deal. He shrugged it off and continued his day.
These could have been omens for what was about to happen next.
After visiting the Quarantine Zone for some ritual exercise, Vasik leaped over the boundaries, brushed himself off, and walked down around the corner with an annoyingly happy gait. The venue is going to be a big hit, he assured himself. It's all that filled his mind, besides Logan, who was thinking the same thing surprisingly.
Vasik was so careless he stumbled into an old, raggedy woman, seemingly waiting for him, under an alley light in the freezing night.
"Watch it hag!"
The oracle only smiled. "Forgive me, prince."
His ears perked up to that last word. How did she know? "What did you call me?" "Your majesty... I can see all." Her glossed-over, milky eyes peered through his own, straight into his heart.
Vasik was lost in her eyes for a moment, mesmerized at the words he heard. He felt like he recognized her from a past life. A jerk of the head back and forth put him back in reality. "Are you mocking me?" "Of course not! What would a little old woman like me do against your awesome wrath?" "I must be imagining this." Ask her about Serena!, Logan pleaded. Shut up you twat! She's gone! Accept it.
Those last words were almost mournful in tone. Your love, and your dissolve. Your friend, and your enemy. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!
With a single swoop, Vasik grabbed the old woman's throat and bashed her against the wall. A normal human of her age would have suffered catastrophic injuries, but she only laughed.
If you let me go, and pay me a small price, I can see your future.
Either she knew so much, or was talking vague jibberish, but everything seemed so real to both of them. He could not hold back. What could he learn? Would the Mirror manifest again? Could he defeat it? What made it come about?
After careful thought, Vasik released the woman with a thud. The oracle lured him in a dark corner and made him bend down to whisper in his ear. "One thousand."
"Jesus!" But the reward could be priceless, the thought... Give her the money! It's just money! We can get more! "God you are such a pain!"
The woman, although it was uncertain if she did not hear Logan, chuckled as if she could. Fine, here.
He threw the cash in her hands. Her leathery, rough hands clasped slowly around it like a venus fly trap. She grinned with yellowed teeth and soft, white skin in the moonlight. "Go to the corner down that road, past the buildings in the grass clearing. You will find your fate there. Quickly now. Destiny, it will not wait for you."
A brisk, sudden wind was left from Vasik's swift run in the direction she pointed in. The woman was left in the dust he kicked up, laughing into the sky.
When he arrived, he heard a slight murmuring. Another vampire was feeding. He paid no attention, turned his back, and waited. Something had to be here. He scanned the grass, smelled the air, listened hard. The other vampire finished feeding and left the human stumbling about, supporting herself against a brick wall on the edge of the clearing.
There has to be something here!!!
Like a man with a metal detector, Vasik scrounged around the grass, looking for the smallest clue. There was a glint by the wall. He raced to it only to find it was a quarter.
Enraged, he threw it against the wall and let out a low growl, unaware of the human scraggling towards him, holding her neck with one hand, the other smearing blood across the brick wall as she moved. "P-please... Help..."
He spun around with an unknown fury. "WHAT?!" "I've been attacked! God, did you see it? You have to help me!" Damnit... Now I have to clean up this mess. Please don't... I have to. If she lives, it would do more harm to all of us. But... we can try and make her forget. If she hasn't forgotten now, what makes you think she'll forget if we try?! "I HAVE TO KILL HER."
That last part was unintentionally spoken aloud, and as soon as he noticed, Vasik wanted to bang his head against the brick wall until it split open. Instead, he growled, bared his fangs, and brandished his fine broadsword, glinting in the moonlight. "Let's at least make this fun, shall we? ...ARGH!" I WON'T LET YOU HURT HER!
The woman screamed.
Vasik cluched his head as an unbearable pain wrecked through his head. He clutched it with both hands, sword in the sky as if it were weightless, back bent over in the miserable hurting.
The woman managed to run towards a crowd. This was not good. At least I tried?, he thought to himself. It wasn't MY mess to begin with. This couldn't have been my destiny...
Vasik unleashed a skin-curling howl at the moon.
The Mirror was sure to visit tonight.
[-Killer-][-Shifter-]
☩ Owner of The Lions Den (8DM 2F 10,1) ☩ RL Name: Erik ☩ YIM: Red_Vasik ☩
Banner by Myk
The Lions Den had a slow start, but it had only been a couple of days since opening. He decided to return there to see it close shop and spend the night. He missed his abandoned shop, but he felt he needed to move on. Was it because of the attack from the mirror?
It was the night of seeing the Oracle. He had to relax, or else he felt he would trigger his impending fear. He swept the floor of a broken bottle, letting his staff leave early. The mess of glass. He looked into it as if he could see his reflection, as if he were lost in a memory.
Out of the corner of his eye, a little mouse nibbled on a fallen cracker, making its way to the pile of glass. It had been a terrible night, and nothing could be worse for his business. This was just not his night.
Vasik, with an emotionless face, lifted his foot over the poor creature. The mouse stood up to sniff the soul of his shoe. A few silent seconds passed...
Tick... tick... tick...
BAM!
His foot hit the floor.
He lifted it to find... nothing.
He saw a slight crack in the bar island. Did he imagine the mouse? Or did it escape? He pounded his fist on the countertop.
"Well, that's unfortunate. Better call an exterminator."
He had come... Vasik sighed with the thought of defeat.
"You fucked up bad tonight. You really, really did... tut, tut," taunted the Mirror.
Vasik let out a low growl. The Mirror lunged at Vasik, swiped him down from beneath by the legs, and grabbed his throat with his razor claws.
"Don't you EVER... growl at me." Vasik would not look him in the face. "Look at me... LOOK." Vasik submitted to the request, remembering what happened last time.
"Yes... that's right. Relinquish your inner status, for I am the ultimate... I am the truth of what shall be. If you truly wish to be me, you must obey." It was true. Vasik wanted all that the Mirror was. Power, intimidation, charisma. Everything he put Vasik through, Vasik wanted for himself. Should he be thankful for the Mirror?
The Mirror released his grip and helped stand Vasik up and dust off the glass. "Think of me as your guide, your mentor, your teacher..." He paced with a crossed arm and his other hand gesturing in the air. "Together, we can accomplish your dreams. We... can become one."
Something inside Vasik began to die. A spark of realization. What he desired was to be one with the Mirror, but would that mean the destruction of himself? Would he lose who he was permanently and have the Mirror take over?
Would he... die? Cease to exist?
"Ah-ah...," he waved a finger, then sang joyfully; "I know your thoughts!" He tapped his head lightly. The Mirror rushed forward, pinning Vasik against the counter, faces nearly touching. "Do you fear me," he whispered. Vasik avoided his gaze, but didn't want to back down.
"No," he replied.
"WRONG!" The Mirror yelled, faces still nearly touching. Vasik flinched. Big mistake.
The Mirror stared into Vasik's eyes, slight smirk on his face. Vasik finally met his, gazing into each other...
God I am beautiful, he thought.
"Yes... we are."
It was at that moment, Vasik realized his true potential as a hunter and a lover, for he was falling for himself. He closed his eyes, leaned and tilted his head in ever so slightly ajar, opened his mouth so little...
And felt nothing.
He heard a wicked cackle echo in the atmosphere. The Mirror was gone.
Enraged, Vasik went back to sweeping the floors. He had never felt manipulated or violated before. As much as it unnerved him, he admired himself, or rather the Mirror.
Still, he was tired, and ready for... help. His sire, Catherine Nilson had been trying to contact him. Maybe it was time for a reunion.
Blood. Pain. Trudging this forsaken land. Fate. It is fate. Karma? Maybe from a past life... So much pain. No one to help me. So alone...