Eye of the Storm [Lyonel]

[Blaize]

Blaize started to shake his head then stopped. The answer turned into a vague shrug. He still could not look at Lyonel, even though he was fully aware of the other’s presence, could feel every inch of him as he drew closer. Why was it that Blaize envisioned himself clutching at Lyonel’s shirt and leaning his head into the other’s chest? Like they were… what? No, he wouldn’t be doing that.

”No, and yes. The sight of blood doesn’t do anything unless I’m starving,” he said. Which, he didn’t voice, was his constant state these days. He didn’t have to voice it. He was beginning to understand that it was starting to show, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. He sucked in a deep breath and let it go again, lifting his chin and risking a glance sideways. The sight of Lyonel had him trembling. He didn’t like it. His eyes dropped again.

”From the vein its hard, as you know. I can’t get through the skin with my own teeth so I have to figure out some other way. The blood bags -- I’m consumed by guilt with those, too. Because they could be saving someone’s life, they could be providing a miracle. They were given in good will to save lives, not to feed vampires. And animals? Christ, I was a vegetarian before. I still don’t want to eat them,” he said. He was opposed to the way cows and chickens were treated when they were bred for human consumption. If he hunted in the wild it should be different. But it wasn’t. He couldn’t understand it. Again, he shook his head.

”Aleksandra was yanked into a sewer grate and drained of her blood before I intervened. I just had to give it. Breno … yes, it was there, but to a lesser extent. It was when I was on tour, and he was a fan. He wanted to work with me, but I didn’t have a job for him. I was struggling more, then, because I needed to feed to do my job properly but trying to do it in foreign cities without causing a scene… I asked if he wanted to help me. To… feed me. He agreed. He knew how to stop me if I went too far. But he gave it to me freely and it made me feel a little better about the whole thing, but not entirely. There was an accident when we came back. He was a friend by then. He’d helped me. I saved him. And Darcy? Darcy…” he laughed, then, though the sound was bitter.

”Darcy should hate me…” he admitted, then swallowed. He didn’t want to tell that story. He fell silent, knuckles white as he gripped the boat’s rails.

[Lyonel]

“And what about you?”

The words came out like the first notes of a haunting song that had played in his head the time since he first came across the dancer. The one who in a moving production of so many stood out with such grace and ethereal beauty that the killer in a tailored tuxedo was drawn to take what was there instead of walking away. He never had done what he did that fateful night. So many ballets, so many prospects he dismissed. It was always about having too little time to take on the role that he had avoided until that moment Blaize appeared leaping and defying gravity.

The sweetest scent of what could be considered forbidden hit the air when the dancer erroneously landed and was seriously injured.The discipline that would serve Lyon well any other time seemed limited and geared towards him taking action, which he did, and intervening where he could. Which he did as well. Perhaps some would be inclined to believe that the businessman and ballet patron should have walked away. Everything that now plagued the black swan and weighed on him was a result of Lyonel stepping in. Good intentions or not there were obvious consequences. The other opinions really didn’t matter. But Blaize’s would.

“Should you hate me?” He asked while his eyes stayed on the one who had his undivided attention.  It was a fair question to ask. “It isn’t so much the means that was the vehicle to arriving to this existence. That is an event that will be remembered, yes, and not forgotten in most cases. But it is pretty miniscule compared to the world that it delivers one into. There is always that to consider. You took away the permanence of one of humanity's greatest fears...death. You gave her what for we currently know to be eternity. What she chooses to with it you have some influence over but just as with you, it is hers to shape, define and to make use of. Do we remember the journey from point A to B half as much as the crucial fact we arrived to the next place we intended to be? Kind or brutal the method of it all doesn't deter that the end result is what we are far more than what we ever were or otherwise would be.”

There was no denying he was somewhat grateful Demi would not remember her introduction first hand but he would by no means candy coat it, or hide from it, or withhold details from her if asked. That was between them. Just as Darcy’s was between Blaize and Darcy. He wouldn’t pry. He would listen if it was brought up. The judgements of others meant too little to truly consider for any length of time. Outside those Lyon was responsible for by taking what he had from them he answered to only one. Wolfgang never failed to set his *** right when he was found to have fucked up.

“So, I ask you now.” He stared at the one who could only give the answer. “Do you hate me for what you have become? And please tell why you answer as you do. Either way I want to know. Perhaps it will offer a different perspective on what you have been struggling with that you have not taken into account.”

[Blaize]

The shake of Blaize’s head was slow, before it grew steadily stronger, more adamant. The argument didn’t hold. Whether Blaize or Lyonel thought that vampirism gave more than it took, it wasn’t up to them to decide whether someone else would thank them for what they might consider a gift, or hate them for what they could rightly consider a curse. He would answer Lyonel first before explaining his difference of opinion.

”No. I asked for it, remember? Why would I hate you for something I asked for? Even if I hated it, I wouldn’t hate you. I couldn’t imagine…” his voice caught, and he shook his head. The way he felt about Lyonel was the complete opposite of hate. It bordered on obsessive, though he did not let it show as much as he could have. ”No. I asked for it, and I wouldn’t go back. I’m stronger than I ever was before, my dance is better for it. They’ve accepted that I can only perform at night time. They don’t care. They work around it. Because I’m that good, and I wouldn’t be. Is it cheating? Maybe. But I don’t care,” he said. Eventually, something might be done about it. If vampires were accepted and integrated into society, Blaize doubted they’d be allowed into the Olympics. But, nor was Blaize competing. He didn’t have an unfair advantage over anyone else, because there was no finish line. He was an entertainer; his sole purpose was to provide an escape for those watching him, to create magic on a stage.

”I’m never going to be put out to pasture because I’m not going to get old. My muscles aren’t going to disintegrate or give out on me. If I shatter bones, they’ll heal within days, good as new. Why would I ever hate what I am?” he asked. He had his issues; he hated having to drink blood. But that was it. It was just the blood.

”Darcy? Didn’t ask for it. She was unlucky enough to bleed in front of me when I was agitated, and hungry because I hadn’t had anything to ‘eat’ for a week. I sliced open her neck with broken glass and feasted like some uninhibited monster. It was only after I was satisfied that I realised what I’d done. I rectified my mistake by turning her. And, if it’s something she considers a curse rather than a blessing – because I can’t force her to think it’s a blessing – then yes. I stand by the idea that she should hate me,” he said. The conversations he’d had with Darcy following the incident hadn’t indicated that she did hate him. She’d seemed oddly accepting, and calm. But Blaize was still consumed by guilt.

His head fell into his hands, fingers pushed through his hair.

”I don’t know how to explain it, Lyonel. The guilt and the shame and the dread, it’s only ever there when I have to feed. When blood’s involved. Otherwise, I’m perfectly content.”

[Lyonel]

“But it comes after the fact.” Lyonel noted as he relaxed with all that was revealed. Some concern was still there but far more relief found him now that much of what had been a mystery was clarified by Blaize’s admissions. “Blood isn’t your thing, which is understandable. May never be. Doesn’t have to be like that just because you have fangs and rely on the source for sustenance.” He figured he would need to clarify his claim. “Darcy may have been at what you consider the wrong place and time but your need over rode all of the negative effects you pointed out and did not hinder you from taking what you need.”

Lyonel wasn’t sure that part was going to settle as well with Blaize but in the end it didn’t matter half as much as the fact that he was not going to truly allow himself to completely waste away due to avoidance. It didn’t weaken him enough to have him neglect himself entirely. That was the relief Lyonel felt in the knowing of that much. The rest could be manageable. It may take time, creativity and a few trials and errors but where there was a will there was a vampire still going out there and cutting his teeth hoping for some fangs to come out of it.

“It could be you are relatively new to this yet. Don’t take offense to that. We have some out there that have been at this for hundreds of years...literally. It could be adjustment yet to take place. Just because you turn in a matter of nights or a week doesn’t mean the process is entirely complete. I have heard of curses. Some can have you missing a shadow or enchanting those around you with the sound of a voice that plays people like a pied piper. Others can have fights breaking out as soon as you step into a room full of people. Curses are bitches that you carry around like a monkey on your back that refuses to get off. All of which leads me to believe perhaps what you are experiencing is less of a delay in the process itself than it is more likely something like that. A curse. Perhaps more than one?” He eyed Blaize growing confident that he could be on the right track. “I am glad to hear there is no hate to be had.”

[Blaize]

Blaize considered what Lyonel had to say and knew that he was right. But he’d already known that. He’d known he could bypass his lack, that he had the ability to do so without violence; he’d done it with Breno for months with a knife for help rather than a shard of glass. Didn’t stop him from feeling horrible every time that he did.

”A curse…” he mused. Did that make him feel better or worse? He shook his head, dubious. Incredulous, even. Curses? He was struggling to grapple with the concept, like there was some witch out there who, for some reason, focused on Blaize to hex. Or was it just a side effect, something that went wrong? Like certain chromosomes in the human body, certain things in DNA that didn’t connect that sometimes caused extra fingers to grow or two different coloured eyes. Did the same thing happen when vampires were turned? Certain oddities caused by badly fused DNA? Blaize shook it off.

”So what do you think the curses are exactly? Can they be… cured? Do you have any…?” he finally asked. Pertinent questions. Well, the latter had more to do with curiosity than anything else, though he supposed it mattered if Lyonel had managed to cure any. He shook his head. ”I’m not offended. I know there’s still things that I could learn, things that I don’t know yet,” he said with a shrug. He took a deep breath, held it for a couple of seconds, then released it. Although he could assume that it was the boat, and the gentle rocking of the water that had calmed him, he knew that neither was the case. It was the man standing directly beside him, his looming presence a soothing balm.

It crossed Blaize’s mind to ask the question; could his attachment to his sire be considered one of these ‘curses’, too? But it would come out wrong. When he was with Lyonel, it didn’t feel like a curse. Wouldn’t it just come out sounding strange? Maybe later.