♪ What's to come ♪ (CLOSED)

[Skylar]

I'm feeling pretty jazzed. Not really sure why, so I try to hide it. But as the next mug is prepared I can't seem to stand still and wander this way and that, pacing back and forth. The process was taking way too long. I really hadn't prepared myself for liking the gloppy mess. The taste. The texture. The feeling of it as it covered my larynx and slid down into my stomach. A shiver of excitement runs through me just at the thought of it. It really wasn't all that bad. At least not presented in this form.
Elliot's babbling while my mind is racing. Shops. Target. Yadda yadda. My thoughts come to a raging halt. Damn. Live target. I realise he's suggesting we go find a victim for me to cut my teeth on. While a dark voice raises it's head within me, my truth self maintains control. Not bloody likely. I think to myself but I' quickly distracted by my next meal.
As he holds it out to me, my hands cover his and they linger there as I stare up at him. He's so close to me that I'm finding it hard to think about anything but him and the blood, and now I have both within my grasp.
I've pretty much repressed the idea of drinking from another vampire and I hadn't really even had time to consider it. Somehow that just felt wrong, though maybe that was because Elliot had said it was taboo. Forbidden. My usual self might have quite liked to cross that line, but now the darker side of my nature was telling me it was wrong. It was so strange to eel this other entity inside of me. At least that was how it felt right now. It wasn't normal. This was something she'd have to get used to and assimilate into herself.
"I'd like to be like you."
I'm staring up into his eyes. He has lovely eyes. Right now I think I'd do anything he asked me too. Even hut that live target. This guy is dangerous to me.

[Lancaster]

Maybe it’s the touch of Skylar’s skin against Elliot’s; it was that physical touch that alerted Elliot exactly to what was going on in Skylar’s emotional wiring. He should have felt it beforehand. By all rights, it should have been winging its way through the atmosphere toward him and he should have picked up on it. But it was only now, when she was standing so willingly close with her fingers over his around that mug that he realises just what he’d done wrong.

He’d wanted only to get her to calm down, but maybe he went too far. Was there a way to control his power so that it was half strength? Maybe not. Point is, the girl was feeling some kind of strong attachment and attraction and Elliot froze, a deer stuck in headlights. Slowly, he slipped his fingers out of Skylar’s reach; he straightened, and he stepped back. He cleared his throat.

“Aaah…”

The words weren’t forthcoming to begin with. Previously, his experience with this particular power told him that it wore off. It wouldn’t last forever. And how much more would Skylar hate him if he didn’t tell her? If he just let her go along with it? Better that she hate him for the truth – that he’d tricked her – than if he allowed her to do something foolish. Again, he cleared his throat and shook his head.

“You don’t want to be like me. Not really. Not…not until you’ve experienced everything else properly first, and you’re settled in, and then you can decide,” he said. He assumed she was talking about the drinking-blood-from-vampires thing. But he indicated the mug of blood. “But with the drinking from blood bags rather than living targets than be my guest. Go for it,” he said. And then, still keeping a good distance, he sought to explain.

“There’s also this other ability that I have. Do you remember how you were trying to leave? How you were panicking? I had to calm you down. So I did. It’s called ‘Pacification’ but sometimes it can have the effect of… well, of seduction. If you’re feeling in any way attracted to me right now…” why did he have to say if? He could feel it, plain as day. He shook his head. “It’s not real. So do your best to ignore it, yeah?” he asked, his brow lifted into his hairline. He was sure that revelation would go down like a ton of bricks.

[Skylar]

I have no clue what he's talking about, when he starts yapping again but then to be fair I'm distracted by the fact he's stepped away from me. I pout and look into my cup, making short work of the contents therein. The blood hits the back of my throat and I feel that same sensation. As it slides down the trachea, I let out a soft moan. It's by far the best thing I've ever tasted, at least that's what my body is telling me. I tingle all over and smile.
He's rattling about me being like him. About trying to feed. I have no idea what he's talking about. I wanted to be an allurist like he was. I wanted to be able to eat and drink for eternity and never have to worry about counting calories and getting fat. Not that I did all that much counting of calories before now.
When he mentions my attraction at him, my brow crinkles in confusion. I'm not attracted to him. Am I? Okay well yeah maybe a bit but with those eyes and that voice. I hear myself purring softly. I just can't seem to help myself.
"Oh great. So you've stolen my life and my free will."
I shouldn't have said that. I know I shouldn't have but that's about as volatile as I feel right now. Surprisingly I'm not that mad at him at all. If anything I find the whole situation kind of cute, charming even. Maybe he secretly wanted to get in my pants or something. He could spin it any way he liked, that has to be what he was aiming for. I wasn't that out of control, was I?
"You know a few more drinks would have the same effect right? I fall into bed with Dillon easily enough if I've had a skinful. No reason why the same trick wouldn't have worked for you," I tell him. "Oh. Dillon's my roommate. Or landlord. Friend? Band mate? I have no ******* clue. We play together in a band and I sleep on his sofa. That's about where our relationship stops unless I'm wasted."
I know he must be judging me now. How could he not be? That sounded awful. I just made myself sound like a complete slut. I'm not. I know Dillon. I can kind of stand him too, most days. He's not bad looking and despite his womanising, I'm pretty sure he's disease free.
"That isn't how it sounded. I'm not a slut or anything. I don't just jump into bed with the first guy I see. I can count on one," I start counting in my head, opening my fingers as I go. "No. Two hands the number of sexual partners I've had. Maybe. Okay." I admit as I stop counting off my sexual partners in my mind "I'm in double digits. But only just."
I place the mug on the counter, my thirst quenched for the moment and start swinging my arms at my side. I then bring them up in front of me and start clicking and tapping my fingers together in - what to most - is an unusual manner. I click my fingers on my right, then my left, then I bring my right hand down on top of my left. I do it over and over and in quick succession. Click, click, clap. Click, click, clap. It's something I do when I'm bored or nervous. A way to burn off excess energy, perhaps.
"So. Let's test me."
I pray he doesn't lecture me, so we can get on with the task of figuring out what I am.

[Lancaster]

As soon as the words left Skylar’s mouth, Elliot’s head bowed. Black hair obscured his features, to hid the wince of his expression; the way he leaned against the counter-top with one hand, the other pushed into his pocket had him looking the very picture of remorse. The words dug deep, and he vehemently shook his head.

“I did take your life as you know it,” he said. “For that I will always be sorry – but your free will is your own, you just have to wait for it to wear off,” he said. Although his voice was heavy with the guilt that constantly weighed him down, there was that hint of anger, too. He was sorry. He had already apologised to her. And he knew, deep down, that he shouldn’t be angry. This girl, who might not yet have reached the primes of her life, had every right to use his actions against him. From now until the end of time, she had the right to wield that particular weapon.

“I wasn’t trying to get you into bed, Skylar,” he said firmly, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. He was in no mood to joke around, and didn’t think that she would be either. So of course he was prone to take her seriously.

Dillon’s name registered somewhere in the back of Elliot’s mind, but it wasn’t something that he focused on. Probably best not to remind Skylar too much of the things that she might have to give up, though Elliot wouldn’t ask her to give up anything she didn’t want to. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t. Not this time. Nor did he have any particular interest in how many partners Skylar had had. He wasn’t about to share numbers with her. Maybe one day she’d hear all about how he didn’t think it was particularly fair that a girl who’d slept with just as many partners as a man could be considered a slut whereas he would be forgiven his wandering ways. Yeah, Elliot was male himself but he was also home to modern thoughts and opinions on equality between sexes.

None of that fit in with this particular discussion, however; Skylar had moved them on and Elliot agreed with the path in which she suggested they go. Test her. Find out what path she was. Elliot reached behind him and opened a drawer. From within it, he retrieved a sharp paring knife. He held it up.

“Those on the path of the Shadow bleed black blood. It’s kind of like … well, like shadow. Like ink that disperses into shadow,” he said. He held the knife steady. “Just a small prick to the finger,” he said, not daring to force the matter.

[Skylar]

Yeah. Wear off. Right. I have no free will right now and I know it, so I have to keep myself focused I catch the glint of something out of the corner of my eye. I was trying not to look at him but now he has a knife in his hand and he's talking about black blood. The first thought, obviously, is eww. I mean black blood. That's disgusting. It sounds diseased or something. I'm praying I don't have that.
I could have waited for Elliot to do his thing, slit my wrist or whatever it was he was going to do, but I don't. I don't trust myself to be near him, so I grab a hold of the knife, pull it from his hands and hopefully take a little of his guilt with it. Dude's already cut up enough about what he's done to me without me adding this to his list of misdeeds.
I hold the knife over my hand, not really sure where to cut. There's the writs obviously but I don't fancy bleeding out on Elliot's clean floor. I'm half tempted to draw the thing across my palm like they do in the movies but that seems a bit overly dramatic to me. Not to mention I've always wondered how they then go about their business. I mean that sucker has got to hurt once you grab a hold of something. Right? So I wimp out and just jab the thing into my left index finger. Red blood bubbles under the tip of the blade and I almost sigh with relief.
"One down. Five to go," I tell Elliot as I throw the blade into the sink and stick my fingertip into my mouth.
The knife clattered as it hit the metal surface and the sound reverberated around the room. The place was eerily quiet. I take another look about. The place is well furnished but the walls and door seem to suggest I'm in some kind of bunker. I guess that explains the lack of ambient noise. The quiet starts to creep into my ears and I find myself walking over to the stereo. I have to put something on before the deafening silence makes my ears bleed or something. Quiet like this, wasn't something I coped well with and I needed yet another something to distract me from the glorious man over my shoulder before I did something both he and I would regret.
The music that comes out of the appliance isn't my kind of thing and I'm immediately trying to tune the thing to a radio station more to my taste. Elliot may be into his music, but he could do with a little updating in my opinion. Though that really wasn't fair. I'd only heard him play two songs on stage and he may have chosen those to calmly kick the night off. I mean he's not their to showcase his own music, surely. The open mic night was to let other's have a chance under the spotlight. Or so I assume.
"Right," I say, my back still too him. "What's next?"

[Lancaster]

Not a shadow, then.

Elliot’s brows furrowed. What next, she’d asked, and Elliot really had no clue. He tried to delve into his own knowledge of the paths and what they could do. But what if Skylar hadn’t actually developed any kind of natural ability just yet? It had only been one night. He could go through a dozen different abilities and she might fail every one of them. No, he thought. He shouldn’t focus on the specific abilities but instead on the things natural to each path. The things that were unavoidable. He knew what they were. He had discovered them, over the years, with each new childe that he turned.

As Skylar busied herself at the stereo, Elliot didn’t care if she changed the channel. She could make this place her home, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t come here much, though it did seem to be the hub to which he always brought his newly turned. Sometimes they used it for a while. But all of them had moved on to their own places, or chose not to come around anymore. Charlie was probably the only childe he ever saw, aside from Reilly every now and again. But he had gone through this transition period with all of them, regardless.

The focus that he concentrated on Skylar was for a specific purpose. He narrowed his eyes at her face; her skin, her own eyes, her hair. She looked pale, but that was to be expected. But not too pale. Not deathly pale. Nothing like a corpse.

“You look healthy, so you’re not a Necromancer,” he said. “Necromancers tend to come back looking like they’ve just crawled out of a grave that they’ve been in for a few days,” he explained. He didn’t go too much into detail. The other way he could knock off a few paths was by showing Skylar to a mirror. Mirrors weren’t really kept handy, much, but there was one in the bedroom for this specific occasion. Elliot went into the room and rifled through one of the drawls until he found a handheld mirror. The kind that hairdressing salons might use to hold up behind someone’s head to show them the back side of their haircut. He brought it back out to Skylar and held it up in front of her.

“What do you see?” he asked. Because he knew, if she saw herself – herself as she would look had she died – then she would be an Allurist. Just like him. As far as he knew, no other path could see themselves, aside from mystics who have possessed other people’s bodies. If she could see nothing in the mirror, then Elliot would have to try a different course of action.

[Skylar]

I listen as he tells me I'm not a necromancer. So that's two down and four to go. I don't fully understand what he means by the fact that they look like they've crawled out of a grave though. I probably know a few people could I say the same of, but that was more of a lifestyle choice than anything else.
I take the mirror as it's handed to me and peer into the glass.
"Oh my ******* god."
I lower the mirror and glare at Elliot for a second before taking a second look.
"You call this healthy? I'm deathly pale. Like I've got my period or something. Oh no."
I whine the last part and concentrate on my reflection. I look washed out like I do once a month when all my blood rushes south and prepares to leave me. I stare at myself mumbling about my lack of colour and inspecting my face from several different angles and with varying degrees of light.
"Nope. This will not do at all. I'm going to need some heavy duty make-up to fix this mess. Do you know how bad it is for a blonde to be so deathly pale?"
I look back at Elliot, one hand on the mirror, one hand on my hip I'm clearly unimpressed with the turn of events as they are. Besides make-up, there has to be a way to get my colour back. Elliot didn't look half as bad as I did. IN fact he looked pretty normal. As I notice this, I step closer to him and reach out to touch his face, which was a bad idea all round as that pesky power kicked back in.
"You're really pretty. I wish my colour was more like yours."
I hear the awe in my voice and try as I might I just can't force myself to pull or look away. He's hypnotising to me. There seems to be nothing more natural in the world than staring up at him. If time stopped right now, I'd be a very happy woman. This was how I should have died. Like this. Looking at him in this way.
I've forgotten the fact that we were testing my path and trying to find out what we were. I had no idea what it meant that I could see myself in the mirror. What path I was and in that moment I really didn't care. Elliot was like some sun-kissed god standing before me and I wanted to be bathed in his glorious light.

[Lancaster]

Elliot laughed.

He really shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help himself. The stress was getting to him. The entire situation was heavy on his shoulders, and being called ‘pretty’ was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Pretty?! That was a new one. There was a very obvious way that he could fix this particular compliment; that he could maybe cause Skylar to take a step or ten back from him. He could kill two birds with one stone.

She assumed that the way she looked in the mirror was the way that everyone else would see her. Elliot knew differently. He knew there were very specific reasons why he tried to avoid mirrors; why, at Lancaster’s, there were no mirrors anywhere. Where most bars of that ilk would have mirrors set up behind the liquor on the wall behind the counter, Elliot had none. He did not step into elevators in public places, because he knew that within those elevators, there could be mirrors. When he went shopping for clothes, he stayed well away from the changing rooms.

Because, really, whenever he looked at himself in the mirror he felt like some gruesome version of Dorian Grey. Every time he looked at himself in the mirror he died a little more inside, because it reminded him how very not human he was. For two seconds he forgot about trying to keep his distance from Skylar. Instead, he sidled up beside her. He bent down to her level, and held the mirror out in front of both of them, one arm over her shoulder.

She would see herself, pasty and white and looking only freshly dead.

And then she would see Elliot – Elliot, who looked like a corpse that had been in the ground for two and a half years. There were no worms or maggots but the skin sagging from bones was old and leathery and rotting, and looked as if it had been eaten by worms and maggots. His hair straggly and limp. His eyes non-existent. Lips pulled back and rotting over yellowing teeth. A rotting skeleton wearing clothes – that’s what Elliot looked like in the mirror. Quickly, he explained.

“The mirror is lying. We don’t look like this. Not to other people. We only look like this in mirrors. In mirrors, we continue to reflect what we would look like, were we still human. And, as humans, we are dead. So - I heavily suggest that you stay away from mirrors,” he said, and his voice broke. He twisted the mirror away, because he could not stand looking at himself. Couldn’t.

[Skylar]

My sun kissed Australian god. I sigh wistfully as he starts talking. I'd watched a show about Australian gods. or rather Norse gods that ended up reincarnated in in Australia. I try to remember what the show was called but my mind's a little fuzzy. The Almighty Johnsons. The title pops into my head and I smile. Elliot was a true Australian god. My very own electric Aussie.
I almost don't look into the mirror as he moves so close to me. I feel dizzy to be so near him and while most women would probably want to kiss those luscious looking lips of his, I wanted to lick his cheek. Rough as that might be. I imagine it wouldn't be too much unlike licking sandpaper and yet still the urge is so strong that I can barely control myself. That's about the time I a glint out of the corner of my eye. He must have adjusted the mirror and the shine of it draws me back to its reflection.
"Holy crap!"
I swallow hard and I back up into Elliot. If I had a heart it would have jumped and it would have been racing to get out of my chest. the feeling is still there though, which would be odd if I didn't find it completely normal.
"What the **** is that?"
I cover the mirror with my hand. If I was going to look like that I didn't ever want to look in a mirror again. That **** was going to give me nightmares as it was, without the thought of watching myself rot away. A shiver runs through at the very prospect of it.
"Stay away from mirrors. Check and double check." I tell him as I turn to face him. If I was ever going to want to be overwhelmed by that voodoo power of his, it was going to be right here and right now, as staring up at my Aussie god, there was no way I could think about the monster in the mirror.
"So all vampires see that right? That...whatever that was."
I find myself practically curling myself up against him. I'd had a shock to the system and needed a hug. I hated the whole damsel in distress image but on occasion it worked to my advantage and he had to learn he couldn't go around scaring the crap out of me and not get at least a little payback. Besides. People have similar reactions to being scared as they do to being turned on, hormone wise or whatever, so this fed into the mojo he'd already worked on me. Up until now I'd been trying to fight it but if he was going to scare me, I was going to scare him. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest as I mumble something about him 'not playing fair' and 'warning me next time.'

[Lancaster]

There was nothing wrong with a hug, as far as Elliot was concerned, and on any other occasion he might have returned the favour. He could give a good hug when he wanted to. There was no holding back in an Elliot hug – his arms would wrap tight around the other, and his entire torso would be used to make the other feel completely at ease. Even though his body might not be as warm as it once was, when he gives a hug it is full of the warmth of his soul.

He could feel the fear. But he could also feel that vibe underneath, too – the faux attraction. The attraction that he doesn’t trust, and doesn’t believe in, because he was the one to have inadvertently put it there. He was torn, as to whether he should indulge in that hug, whether he should comfort Skylar as she so obviously needed to be comforted, or whether he should pull away entirely. In the end, he decided he didn’t want her to think that he didn’t care, and that he’d tried to frighten her on purpose, it had instead been only a means to an end.

So he didn’t give one of his usual hugs. Instead, he allowed Skylar o stay where she was, and merely laid one hand over her shoulder; he gave a comforting squeeze.

“No. That particular brand of horror can only be seen by Allurists. You are an Allurist. Exactly the same as I am, which is going to make this far easier,” he said. “And by this, I mean the transition. The… training. The whatever,” he said. Sometimes words came to him with ease. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes he was a little awkward with the way he explained things, and now was one of them. He never was very good at explaining what had happened to those whom he sired by accident. To tell them they were a vampire, now, and all the things that might entail? It was a little bit ridiculous. It sounded like a story that belonged in a fiction novel. It felt like it should be a lie. But it wasn’t a lie. It was a very real truth and it was one that he often didn’t like to tell.

“Basically, the things you’ll be capable of to begin with will make you more… well, alluring. But also we kind of… we mess with their emotions. Confuse and intimidate, when we feel threatened,” he said. “I’m not sure they’re things that I can teach you. They come with time. But I can kind of tell you how they work,” he said. Kind of, because he would try. But some things work different depending on the person.

He could keep going. He could explain each different ability, as he remembered them, in detail. He glanced down at Skylar; he paused. First, he would allow what had already been said to sink in. And hope that she extracted herself from her hug.