Addicted. { Myk }

[Fable (DELETED 5728)]

The man seemed to be moving backwards in such a way that he seemed almost scared of Fable. The telepath found himself blinking at the male in front of him, was the touch of their hands meshing together too much for him?

He didn’t expect it. Fable wasn’t read for his eardrums to vibrate with such a sound. His eyes went from the man in front of him to the urn that was now broken upon the floor in front of him. It took him a moment to let it soak in that one of his antiques that was full of nurturing love, and history was broken - unable to be fixed, and suddenly all lost of value. Fable should have been mad, he should have been livid - perhaps kicked this male out of his little homey store, but instead he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s fine.” Breaking the silence. The man pushed his face into his hands and seemed sincere in his apology for breaking the urn. He waved his hands away. Words slipped into his head. They echoed around inside. He blinked and widened his river blue eyes at the man. Was that him? His voice sounded upset in pain. He felt sorry for the man and moved forward to squeeze his shoulder in a comforting manner.

”Don’t apologise, it’s fine. You’re a telepath too?” This time he knew he was mindspeaking into the other’s mind and flashed him a smile. “You won’t pay for anything.” He said out loud this time waving his hands at the customers that were in the store and looking over at the pair of telepaths.

Fable moved then, moving towards the small cupboard where he kept the cleaning materials he plucked a sweeping brush and a small brown basket bin and brought them over to where the smashed urn was. Where he began to gather the smashed pieces into the brown basket as he pooled them together.

[Myk]

Boneless and ashamed, Myk did his best just to stand straight. He was an open target, a sitting duck, and as the man moved forward, Myk wouldn’t even flinch. The Telepath couldn’t see what was happening, his pewter eyes were squeezed shut and hidden behind his hands. Time slowed, Myk felt the air shift with movement, heard the footsteps like they were miles away, smelt the appetising tug of the individual’s scent as he drew closer and closer, but even so, the Telepath couldn’t bring himself to move. Resigned to his fate, Myk allowed this one to lay a hand upon his shoulder. Warm pressure worried the muscle before dispersing; this small, strange act was enough to draw the Telepath from hiding. Pewter eyes opened wide, his hands slipped down his face and he stared incredulously as he looked upon a generous smile, felt the wiggle of telepathy in his head, and felt even more boneless than before. Why was this man being so nice to him? Myk marvelled as he watched the young man step away to collect some cleaning supplies, his body language suggesting that this was trivial. Do vases get broke so often that it’s barely a bother?

“Please,” Myk breathed when the man returned. “Let me make this up to you.”

He wanted to take the brush and basket out of the young man’s hands and take on the chore himself, but felt like he would be intruding. Myk stood there awkwardly, his hands clasped together in front of him as if he were a scolded schoolboy; helpless and sobbing. Of course he felt remorse, guilt, horror, but what could he do about it? How much was the vase and was its value monetary alone? Whatever the cost, Myk would pay it. He had no choice in the matter, the Vampire in front of him had no choice in the matter. Myk wouldn’t be able to live on for the rest of existence knowing that he had wronged someone without purpose and hadn’t done something to address the balance. He was on his knees in an instant, dexterous hands making short work of collecting the shards of china and depositing them in the basket. Myk only paused to swipe a strand of long white hair behind his ear so he could see what he was doing. The skill with which he plucked the glass-sharp pieces from the ground was clearly no testament to carefulness; Myk looked like he had had a lot of experience in tidying up a mess.

“I really am sorry about all this,” the Telepath crooned directly into the other’s mind. “It’s been… a long night…”

[Fable (DELETED 5728)]

Fable wanted to wave the man’s concerns away. Tell him he didn’t have to make it up to him. He didn’t need to make it up to him, accidents happen all the time and this here was an accident. He shook his head. Still tidying up the mess from the floor - he needed to make sure all the clay, and china was off the floor so a customer didn’t hurt themselves. It was the first rule of customer service - never to get the customer hurt. Remove any and all hazards from the floor. The telepath gave the other telepath a look over.

“You don’t have too.” He said. Shaking his head needlessly. But the man was on his knees then helping Fable to clean up the mess, he could almost feel the guilt as it oozed from his persona. He shook his head and wanted to comfort him. The man seemed so hurt and upset from just smashing something. There was a sigh.

”You don’t need to apologise.” The words left him and entered Myk’s head. They were carried on an invisible breeze. ”Everyone has bad days - you're entitled to that.” Fable had always been gentle of heart even now as he was going through a tough time outside of this small shop, where his bloodlust would consume him and he would find himself at the mercy of it. Launching himself upon people and taking their lives without hesitation.

At least, in this store he could subdue the monster that gurgled and moved inside him wanting to break free and drain the world of its blood. At least in here he was safe - and preoccupied by the antiques.


Plucking the basket from its resting place against the floor he got himself up into a standing position and began to carry it back to the cupboard and placed them inside closing the door after him as he dusted off his own hands, before turning to look at the other male. “Don’t worry about it.”

[Myk]

Despite the other Vampire’s heart-felt pleas, Myk couldn’t stop himself from worrying about it. The Telepath’s mind was thrumming with self-reproach, guilt, remorse and the stunning need to do something, anything, to make this all better. A static heat smothered the air around the Telepath, teasing his body from every angle until he felt raw and naked and abused. Myk felt eyes on him; the judgment of the few other customers prickling his skin. Rage soon steeped his thoughts, souring them; he could snap their fragile little necks with just a twitch of his fingers if he wanted to. Mercy was so easily granted to them so how dare they judge him! Pewter eyes leered over his shoulder, past a barrier of long, pure white hair that perfectly contrasted the ominous glare he was giving them. In an instant, Myk had transported a thought in their heads – without even knowing he’d done so – that told them to leave. The few Humans stiffened as if hypnotised, their expressions becoming languid before they complied with the silent demand. Without a word, they fell into single file and promptly left the store. Their exit had done little to warm the Telepath’s mood, however.

“You must let me do something…” Myk crooned as he stepped a short distance away from the other man.

His head was lowered, pewter eyes basking in shadows that hid them from scrutiny. Bone-white hair tumbled down his shoulders and chest like a bridal veil and he began to pace then, much like a nervous bride would when she was about to commit herself to an eternity with a man she wasn’t sure she even knew, yet alone loved. Myk’s hands were clasped together in front of him, wringing out the nervous energy that had him saturated, feeling heavy. Still, his boots made little sound even as he strode slowly backward and then forward again in a short line. The Telepath was mumbling too; quiet, incoherent sentences that dipped in and out of thought processes as he contemplated on how to repay his debt. Then he stopped. Turned. Looked the other Telepath in the eye and held a straight expression.

“Dinner,” Myk said sharply before warming, softening. “For a start… I want to learn more about you and as such, devise an appropriate reimbursement. Please, let me take you to dinner.”

[Fable (DELETED 5728)]

Fable wasn’t the type of person to simply be angry at people even if he had a reason to be - a broken urn, an antique was nothing to want to kill someone over. Fable was awfully good at denying exactly what he was to himself. A vampire. The emotions stirred within him, he knew exactly what he needed blood. He could feel the dire need slowly creeping its way in. Wriggling it’s way through the cracks. Clouding him for a moment. His palm crashed against the counter. Glass cracked beneath his palm as he squeezed his eyes shut. He would not lose control. He could not. These cravings came in waves and Fable could not control them. Sometimes he found himself scratching at his neck until there was blood - the wounds would heal instantly a second later.

Deep Breathe.

You’re going to be fine, Fabs.
Do you really know that?
Go away.
I’m your hunger. Feeeeed me Seeeeymour

He ran his tongue along his lower lip. Deep breathe and then the pang of hunger subsided and he was left looking at the broken glass of the counter. He turned to Myk then. Blinking a couple of times. Sometimes he just didn’t know his own strength.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “I got lost in my own thoughts for a moment.” He made a mental note in the back of his head to purchase a new countertop. He needed something that was less fragile - not glass for sure. He found himself staring at his hand, unscatched besides a few shards of glass but it was nothing. Turning to Myk fully then he smiled his most endearing smile.

“Dinner.” He said. “But I cannot…” He didn’t finish the sentence hoping the other male could pick up that he was not an allurist. He could not consume food, unless he meant something else. Did he want to go hunting together? Was that even a thing?

[Myk]

It seemed entirely unnatural, but in the moment that the glass of the counter crackled and broke like frozen blades of grass against a storm, Myk had not even flinched. The sound should have been alarming. The fact that it had seemingly come out of nowhere should have been disturbing. The timing of it even should have been at least a little curious to the Telepath, but Myk blinked and looked over the Vampire in front of him as if this was a trivial matter – as simple and natural as breathing. There was no reason the white-haired man knew that he should be concerned with the other’s actions. A countertop broken out of rage or tension was really just the start of things that should have been. Myk had already resigned himself to punishment and now that the mortal witnesses had dispersed and these two men were left alone to reveal their secrets to each other, Myk expected a little bloodshed. After all, he had broken a precious heirloom, a possession, goods that were of value. If the price of Myk’s clumsiness was to be reaped by his own blood, he would allow that to happen to him. This Vampire before him deserved something, even if dinner as it were, were to be on Myk quite literally…

The sound which followed the splintering of glass, however, was the one which made Myk’s brow crease curiously and warily. The man was apologising and said he couldn’t dine. Why apologise? And why couldn’t the man have dinner? Was he married? Pewter eyes glanced over at the man’s hand – or attempted to – in order to scout for a wedding ring… not that Myk had meant to be some romantic. He hadn’t, had he? Well, the man was very attractive, but that really shouldn’t have been on Myk’s mind at that moment in time. Stopping his thoughts dead, pewter eyes inspected the man before him with reservation. Had Myk been wrong when it came to this individual? Was he really just too sweet and innocent to be true… especially for a Vampire?

The frown on Myk’s pallid features changed character in that moment, wariness melted into compassion like hoarfrost. Myk closed the space between them while the other Telepath was distracted with his thoughts and with his scratched palm. Fully aware of his actions this time, Myk deftly slipped his hand beneath the other’s, holding the wrist between his little finger and thumb and cradling the hand like a lotus blossom held up for admiration. The confidence wasn’t out of character for the white-haired Telepath even if he wished it was. Invading people’s space, touching people, it was an urge too difficult to suppress. Pewter eyes wanted to evaluate the damage this Vampire had done to himself in whatever fit of temper that had possessed him.

Of course the damage was minor – particularly so for a being that could heal as effortlessly as a bird sheds its feathers – but at the very core of it, Myk was compelled by his very Human instincts. As Myk leant forward to get a better look at the superficial red marks, the lines of scarlet streaking madly across such a pale background like an artist’s brush, those bone-white tresses began to drip off his shoulders. Like snow flurries, the white mass slid forward, stopped, slid forward an inch again, stopped, and then slipped right from off the edges of his shoulders. The heavy showering of white came like an avalanche and because of its abnormal length, it covered the countertop in full and even splashed over their palms. Myk released the other man’s hand at that point and straightened, tucking the lengths of his unruly hair back behind his ear and looking shyly aside.

Myk was intruding too much. This pain that the other inflicted upon himself was likely a lash-out at himself rather than at Myk – though he had had his part in the man’s suffering tonight. Whatever was going on inside that man’s head, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. The thought loosed a sigh from the white-haired man and he realised that maybe, maybe he had to do more than offer dinner.


“I am sorry,” Myk murmured, coming out from behind his hair. He found himself slipping into a proper British accent when he was apologising. “That was far too bold. I shouldn’t have just… grabbed your hand like that… but… you’re not injured so… at least you’re ok.”

“Ok physically perhaps… Not that I’m one to judge...”

“Look, why don’t we start over,” Myk said, turning to face the other straight-on.

He would have offered a hand – the small white hand did shift a little with instinct – but he quickly decided against it when he remembered the man’s injuries. For the first time this evening, Myk was actually going to introduce himself and put a name to that handsome face.

“My name’s Myk… and I am a Telepath, just like you… Though, I sense you already know that…” Pewter eyes dropped to his feet for a moment because maybe not every Telepath was as nosey as he was. “And you are?”

[Fable (DELETED 5728)]

This white haired male closed the gap between the two telepaths and found himself looking at Fable curiously, and Fable being the curious old soul he was looked at the man in the same way, canting his head to the side. His ocean orbs looked down to the hand as this male who had now introduced himself as Myk was inspecting his hand - as if looking for damage. He was a vampire, they healed quickly. It was a package deal alongside bloodlust. He closed his eyes for a second, letting his hands caress Fable’s skin before opening them to focus on the fellow Telepath.

“No, I am sorry!” His gums were flapping. “I was taken aback by your comment, I was told by my sire that we… I could no longer consume human food. I am not what they call of the Allurist path.” Fable had tried to eat food in the past, it was a chicken sandwich. His favourite. The crusts cut off just like his aunt would do for him, the contents of the sandwich were neatly placed inside the bread and he was unable to eat it. Throwing it back up with such violence that he thought he had seen blood somewhere amongst the mess on the floor. “I’m a Telepath. As you already know.” He gave a smile. It was a cheeky one.

“Myk” The telepath played with the name on his tongue and smiled. A lovely name for a lovely face. Myk was indeed impressed. “What a lovely name.” He gave a nod of his head. Outstretching his own hand in an offer of greeting. “My name is Fable.” He said. “Fable Andras.” Now they knew one another’s names. That was a good side.

His ocean hues looked back to the counter and how it had shattered so easily under the palms of his hands and shivered. It was unnatural having so much power at your disposal. It actually frightened the telepath. “I’m not entirely new to this life - but I’m still learning, I guess I’m still learning to control my telepathic abilities.” He gave a smile. Showing the whites of his teeth this time, but as he smiled - his fangs were gone. Ripped from his mouth at an early stage of his vampire-hood. Fable was what they would call; fangless. “As im sure you could tell.” He finally finished.

[Myk]

Myk couldn’t withhold the chuckle that tumbled out of him – this coltish sound that murmured freely like a woodland brook. This Vampire, now revealed as Fable Andras, was too cute to be true. Myk wasn’t laughing because he found it pathetic and was mocking the other – he genuinely found Fable’s obliviousness charming. The juxtaposition was astounding too – what Fable could do with his Telepathic abilities and yet how clueless he seemed to be. Myk was curious about how such a gentle mind could manage in this savage, demanding world of theirs. Fable made the confession that he was still learning about things – Vampire things – and, in particular, his abilities. Myk looked upon the other Vampire like a helpless bunny amongst a field of foxes and wolves. Pity was worn easily on the white-haired man’s features, but not as effortlessly or as often as curiosity. How Fable had managed to last thing long in their world was particularly surprising and therefore questionable.

Myk had heard about the Andras Family – Velveteen in particular – and their connections to meaningless violence, mercilessness, and hypocrisy. Yet this soul – clueless and cute and fully accountable for his actions and misdeeds – was imbedded in the heart of their organisation. That knowledge was truly curious, either for what it suggested about the Andras Family and their true selves or for what it further revealed about their hypocrisy. Nevertheless, Myk decided not to make it this one’s problem. The Telepath judged people on their personal deeds, not their relatives’.

“Darling I am well aware that you are not an Allurist. And we’re all students in this world of ours. Don’t trouble yourself with thoughts of inferiority,” Myk said calmly, sweetly, and yet said too much. Myk bowed his head a little then, clasping his hands behind his back – a sign of meekness. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Fable... even if I have been nothing more than a blight upon your night… This is why I wanted to take you to dinner. And… you know… it doesn’t have to be Human food… don’t you?”

Pewter eyes full of sparkle, delicacy and expectation looked upon Fable then. Myk’s head was canted a small way to the left, his hair falling in that direction as if its weight had been the thing to drag his head in the first place – like a branch overwhelmed with snow. Myk understood that it was not simply an Allurist’s ability to consume food as mortals do, but since Fable had said enough to convince Myk that he was not capable of eating like that, it didn’t really seem appropriate for a lecture. Myk had enough information that he could work with and even if this Vampire refused to eat as Vampires do, Myk would find a solution to that as well. The white-haired Telepath was like a pestering fly and wouldn’t leave until he was satisfied.

[Fable (DELETED 5728)]

Fable had been pottering. When the air filled with silence he busied himself. He didn’t want to wait solely for a response from Myk. He wasn’t hanging onto every syllable that left the white haired man’s mouth, was he? Curiosity wasn’t amiss in the telepaths features as he turned his blue irises towards his fellow telepath. He could see the way he was looking at him, pity. Why was Myk pitying Fable. He raised an eyebrow. Blonde brow raised eye above his right eye. Myk spoke then, breaking the sound of silence between the two.

“You are a student, also?” He found himself asking curiously as his whole body turned from the counter to face Myk directly. “How long have you been around?” He didn’t mean his age - he meant as a vampire. He could never tell how old a vampire had been a vampire. It was always a heavy question for the vampire.

“You were no blight, Myk.” The canadian accent thick, as he smiled at the male in front of him. Extending his arm so it caressed the arm of the telepath in a welcoming manner. “Even if you broke my vase, it can be easily replaced. It seems this endeavour has allowed me to meet someone else like me.” Fable didn’t get out much, rarely made new friends. He was no like most vampires, and to some that was off putting. He was not murderous. Despite his slip ups.

“I know this now.” His chest rumbled, as a chuckle escaped his lips. He opened his mouth then, revealing his two lost canine’s. “Would these be a problem?” He had ripped them out not so long ago. He didn’t wish to be the monster he feared he would become in time, so ripped them out for safe measure. Yet, he still managed to break into the skin with his own teeth - it just took a little more effort, and time.

[Myk]

This was turning out to be another one of those occasions where Myk had not properly explained himself and that lack of proper communication had confused Fable. Pewter eyes stared blankly for the moment, watching that handsome face light up and look him over like he was some kind of treasure. Only, Myk found the child-like curiosity a little bit frightful this time. The subsequent questions made the expected answers die in Myk’s throat. No. No. No! Myk hadn’t meant he was a true student, one enrolled in some kind of education system. Myk spoke in metaphors more often than not because they were the best way he thought he could get his meanings across. The Telepath should have learned by now that even when he provided anchors for people to latch onto his meaning, that he should have remembered that cultures often shifted those meanings. This Canadian had no idea what the hell the British-French-Italian was talking about… Oh dear… Not again.

The white-haired Telepath barely registered the advancing hand, nor felt the brush of movement across his arm. His heart had registered the tingle, making that anxiety in his stomach worse, making him feel sick, however. Pewter eyes blinked once again, coming around too late to see when Fable had stopped petting him and had gone on to express his gratitude. Myk was confused. Why was this boy so sweet to him? He’d broken the man’s property and here Fable was telling him that everything was alright. Why was this man so sweet? It was bordering on suspicious and damn near frightening. Only moments ago had Myk found the man’s naiveté endearing, but his mind was a fickle thing and travelled at such a pace that even he found it difficult to keep up. Maybe Myk should have kept taking those pills. Maybe he should have understood why he felt so afraid of this one.

“I…”

Myk began and then stopped. Fable had bared his teeth and the Telepath couldn’t even think anymore. Those pearly whites had sparked a sudden onset of amnesia in the white-haired man. What was he going to say? Something about… being old and forgetful, probably. He couldn’t remember. Not for the life of him could he remember. Damn this man and his cute damn face…

“Problem for what?” Myk asked dimly – a fraction of a second before the memory loss had passed. “Oh! For dinner… No, not at all.”

When the physical ability to do something by yourself, that is why tools were used. If Fable couldn’t break the skin of his prey with his fangs, well, he could always pick up a knife, a syringe, anything to help. Or, since Myk would be with him this time, one Telepath could aid the other…

“Dinner’s… on me,” Myk grinned. “And I know a spot, if you’re still interested.”