Saints and Serpents (Vasik)

[Elijah Valentine (DELETED 5123)]

Elijah opened the back seat of his beat up, beloved old junker and hefted the penultimate box, the cargo of densely-stacked books straining at the edges of the white cardboard and providing a workout even to his powerful body. Corded muscle stood out on his arms, tanned a workman's bronze underneath the white logo t-shirt (logo currently invisible behind the bulging edges of the box). It felt... weird to be moving so much stuff. It was just a hotel, he kept telling himself, just a condo suite for a few weeks. Month tops. He hadn't been fired, so he wasn't likely to be staying half-way across the US. He liked having his things with him. It afforded a sort of security. But packing had felt so final, especially with those weird sort of hooks that kept pulling at him, as if something waited in the city of his birth that was more important than a glimpse at his parents' past or some much-needed vacation.

He shook his head slightly, then had to shake it again to get constantly-errant strands of his dark blonde hair out of his eyes so he could accommodate the back stairs. Then it was just a question of propping the heavy box up against the doorframe and holding it steady with one arm and one jean-clad hip as he got out the key, got the door open and dumped the box unceremoniously on the floor near the closet.

Drew a breath. One more to go.

He was getting that weird feeling again as he descended the stairs. A pricking at the tips of his hands almost as if they had fallen asleep. An odd sort of nausea and the border-line, edge-of-violence anticipation that every homicide cop secretly knows, that place on the edge of the explosion where your body is thrumming with equal parts righteousness and darkness, because you know there is a chance that someone isn't coming back from this abyss. That moment before 'shots fired' goes out on the dispatch...

Only, just like every time since all this weirdness had started, there was no reason for it. The coast was clear. Nobody on the street seemed suspicious, or to be paying the slightest attention to him. He sighed and got around to open the other side car door, after that last box.

Maybe that court-appointed therapist was right, after all.

[Vasik (DELETED 5042)]

On the other side of the car, sitting on the curb, was the source of that anxiety and disruption. A young, attractive man in hid mid to late 20's, sat alone in the cold, muttering to himself. He was as pale as the clouds anticipating snow, yet his hair was as red and bright as deep rubies. A dark aura of suspense tinged the air, a miasma of fear triggering flight-or-fight.

He fidgeted with his sharp nails, barely peeking out of the black hoodie sleeves. The hoodie was slack, but extremely small for one of his stature. It was evident by the size of the jacket, his jeans, and his cheekbones that this was a hungry boy, filled with tragic stories, like in the eyes of a homeless man.

To the common person, they would merely see a college drop-out, suffering from some sort of drug withdrawal. But no, much more could be felt when in his presence.

"I can't. I just can't. I'm not like you. Just go away. You'll have your turn when I'm done!"
He dare not look up at the man approaching his car, but it could be felt that the muttering was about him.

Suddenly, he stood up, hands on his head, and yelled. "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!"

He opened his eyes, looking straight at the man by his car, staring.
Did I really say that out loud? He thought to himself.
A few seconds went by, staring at him with his liquid amber eyes, limber arms drooping to his sides.

[Elijah Valentine (DELETED 5123)]

Elijah froze with his keys in the lock, body slightly tensed by the anticipation that continued to sluice through him, that palpable dread fed on and heightened by the weird behavior of the kid sitting by the curb side. As he kept an eye on the kid, he was torn by a mixture of feelings. Sure, he felt compassion. Kid looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in months, like he didn't have much of a place to stay. Maybe the muttering was an earbud phone- Elijah almost jumped at the outburst, and certainly hoped that was it. But the most likely cause of this kind of behavior was mental disorder, which would also account for the state of him. A lot of times people with genuine problems just slipped through the cracks. Or, it could be drugs. Either of the last two meant Elijah had to be wary. The kid didn't look all that physically powerful and Elijah was a trained police officer, but all you had to be was wrong one time.

He carefully eased the car door open. If the focus hadn't already been on him, as denoted by that heavy, liquid brown stare, Valentine would probably have tried to avoid it. Not because his heart didn't twist a little at the thought of just ignoring his kid, but because in the worst case scenario he could be attracting a lot of trouble. But, potential trouble already attracted, he decided to go out on a limb.

Blue-green eyes, clear and concerned, met amber ones. "Hey," he said carefully. "You okay?"

[Vasik (DELETED 5042)]

Words of concern, he heard words he hadn't heard in a long, lost time. That made him smile a little, but a gust of wind jolted him back to reality. He crossed his arms, put his head down, and said, "No, thanks..."
He started kicking the gravel around the curb.

"C-can I help you take your things in? Maybe do some odds and ends for a bite to eat? I can't remember the last meal I had... I've been on the streets for a few days."

His words were truth, sincere. He didn't want to take without earning away the penance. His disheveled hair blew with the wind, framing his deathly pallor. He looked to the box in the car, seeing only a single load to carry. He had to think of more options, quickly.

"I can do more than odd jobs, too, if, if that's what you like." Even in this emaciated state, the boy was still quite attractive and could hold up the offer well, no matter how shy or crazy he seemed.

He walked over to the man slowly, so as not to scare him off, placing a clawed hand on his, looking into his eyes deeply, kindly, longingly. The hand was stinging cold against the other's warmth.
He was desperate, and willing to get whatever he needed by any means possible.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes half open, expressing physical submission to the weaker being before him, waiting for his answer.

[Elijah Valentine (DELETED 5123)]

Aw, man. This was quickly becoming very difficult. Not only did the kid's eyes latch on to his and just keep holding, like those abused pets in the ASPCA commercials, but it was clear he really needed and wanted help, and could be lucid when he needed to be. No, thanks. That was a pretty self-aware answer. It begged the question of what had caused the muttering and the outbursts. Things that could just switch on and off like that, or seem to, had to be watched pretty closely.

Elijah wasn't a hard case. He tried to be smart about life, but he wasn't exactly the kind of man who could listen to this practically emaciated, worried boy babble and not feel like someone had punched him in his metaphysical gut.

Jeepers, the kid was freezing! Without thinking about it, Elijah put his other hand over the icy appendage that had closed over his arm, trying to warm up the flesh. Then the touch and the kid's posture, as if this were some kind of interlude or date or something, started to make him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't going to take advantage of somebody who just needed some food. Surely the boy didn't think that...

"Hey, hey, hey," he said gently, tugging lightly on the kid's arm before moving it, not unkindly, away. "Slow down. It's okay. You need something to eat, we'll get you something to eat, okay? You don't need to do anything for it. All right?"

Especially not that. There's a special circle of hell reserved for douchebags who'd take sexual favors out of some freezing, starving kid. Or there should be.

[Vasik (DELETED 5042)]

Logan was thankful for the kind gesture, but an overwhelming sadness swept over him. It was visible on his face. Not disappointment for not being taken advantage of, no. There was a sweet, gentle thanks that emanated from him for that.

He put his hands in his pockets, staring slightly off from the other's face. He took the box out of the car and said "where should I put this? It's the least I can do..." Eyes focused on the side of his neck, right where the mastoid connects the head to the clavicle. That glorious hill and valley, the base of it. He studied it, longingly, yet with a hint of sorrow.

He noticed his stare, then quickly looked down at the box, wondering what contents laid inside to give it such a weight. He didn't want to pry, but he felt obligated to get to know the man more before he...

He shook his head, he had to focus. But deep within him...
What are you doing? Just do it already! Stop wasting time!
Logan winced at the voice in his head, but kept his head down, staring at the tantalizing box of wonder. What could possibly be inside? Who was this stranger in town? He was a person, just like everyone else. Someone's son, a husband or father perhaps.
Stop thinking like that and just do it! The more you linger, the less likely you'll do it!
Under his breath, he quietly muttered, "shut up!!" trying to muffle it with shuffling his feet on the ground.