Path of the Vampire forum

Andrew stood still, relaxed, as the huge white serpent wound around him. For whatever reason, he did little more than let his fingers idly run over the smooth scales as she slithered her way around his waist. Snakes didn't bother him; they never had. Though he could not know Azraeth's thoughts, he considered them in much the same light - symbols of rebirth, immortality... an escape from certain death. And yet, where he might have touched any other snake, guided it or moved it about so it did not drape so around his entire tall frame, this felt... different. An unmistakable feeling of safety wrapped around him like a soft blanket, easing the remnants of fear and desire to be away from this place as soon as possible, lulling him into a sense of security, false or no.

And even then, even as Azraeth began to speak, to tell him a fantastic, almost unbelievable tale, he felt nothing but peace in the midst of his churning thoughts. His eyes widened at the flowing words - rumors had been rife in the City for years now about the undead who walked among the living, whispering that they were behind the strange, tattooed fanatics, the weirdos who walked the streets late at night with obvious weapons attached to their hips and elsewhere. Even, it was said, behind the increase in a governmental presence the likes of which had never been seen before in the small city, with the sealing of the Mausoleum, and the appearance of the Quarantine Zone. Some of his friends had snuck into both places, and the ones who came back mostly unscathed reported the same thing - roaming creatures that had him, and them, wondering if they lived amongst a real life Walking Dead episode. Andrew had never been so inclined to visit the Maus after it had been sealed - it wouldn't do to get stuck there. **** that. But the Quarantine... he'd seen some of what they were talking about, and scoffed a bit at the oft-spoken party line - 'sick people.'

Right.

And now, as the man - the supposed vampire - turned back toward him, Andrew remained still and allowed him to continue, uninterrupted. After all, what could he possibly say? But Azraeth wanted a response, as surely as that tap to the chin was real, and not imagined.

"Safe. No. Not in the sense of 'eternal,' as you say." He cleared his throat, fingers still resting lightly on the beautiful snake, drawing more of that same sense of peace from her. He considered being untruthful, whether by omission or outright lie, but decided that that somehow wouldn't fly with this odd man. "I've long... long feared death, and dying," he said simply, unwilling, at least for the time, to go into greater detail. "I'm not eternal in any of those ways, and I'm no vampire."

He fell silent for a long moment, considering the rest of his reply.

"I feel generally safe in this moment, yes, foolish or not as it might be... considering everything you've had to say. Helped along by your snake... she's very soothing, in her way."

Andrew felt his eyes slide closed at the tight clasp on his shoulder, the one that lead him, whether it remained or not, to follow after the man without much prior thought. His eyes slipped back open as his feet mindlessly moved him to what looked to be a study or library - books, a sofa, and all sorts of knickknacks were about, not to mention the heavy layer of dust that covered every surface. The place hadn't been touched in a very long time, it would seem, but the thing that struck him, more than anything else, was how dark it seemed to his own eyes. The other moved about as if he could see perfectly, as if the place was flooded with light, while Andrew made his way slowly, letting his eyes adjust and carefully stepping so he didn't stumble. And if Andrew had been doubting, in that moment, the veracity of the man's tale and of his claims of being a vampire, it occurred to him just then that he didn't know of any humans who could see so well in the dark.

Still, Andrew didn't doubt and as he did as suggested and took a seat upon that dusty old couch, the snake moving like silk to adjust herself all the while, he listened to each and every word with no more on the surface than a detached sort of attitude.

He had almost certainly known he was in trouble - sensed it in his subconscious, even if his instincts hadn't been trying to shove him out the door - from the moment he saw the blood and those spirits were released and consumed. And yet, like a moth to a flame, something had kept him. Something had made him stay, made him want to learn everything he could, despite the fact that all of it should have terrified him.

Maybe he'd always known, from the moment he'd met Azraeth, that death - one way or the other - was in the offing.

Yet Andrew was strangely unafraid - something that initially shocked him perhaps more than the two options before him, until he began to realize how very, very tired he was of always being afraid. If anything, such a conundrum was a relief, the previously unknown tonic to tortured, shredded nerves. No choice but to die. And as he turned the coin over and over in his mind, considering each side of the impossible question, he realized he'd gone very, very still. Death was inevitable, because there was no other way out - this thought came with an almost surprised sort of clarity. The man had seen to that, and Andrew, stupidly, had followed. Though something told him, as it had earlier in the evening, that if he had simply tried to run for it, Azraeth would have had little trouble tracking him down and simply killing him without offering an alternative at all.

He swallowed, then turned to look the other male up and down before his gaze settled upon his face. "What do you mean, lose myself?" he finally asked, curious to know more. Cutting away his life wouldn't be too difficult, he supposed... at least, until his thoughts turned to his eccentric but beloved parents, to Beca. They were part of his life, in a more important way than anything else. But what was the alternative? Dying this young still terrified him in the abstract - the not knowing, the seeming blackness of the end... and he supposed simply turning up dead would be worse for his family, too.

He sat back a little, careful of the serpent, and seemed to almost casually survey the room and all within before he looked to the male again. His mind churned as his thoughts swirled. He could still make it work, of course he could. Maybe he'd end up as weird as this guy before him and the issue of his family would take care of itself. Or maybe he'd be himself, same old Andrew, and somehow still keep them - though at an arms' length - part of his life. Either way, he wasn't about to promise more than the vague acknowledgement that cutting it all away was to be the goal, but would wisely keep his mouth shut as to the other things floating about his brain.

Because the simple bottom line was, he was too young to die. Too young to find out what, if anything, came after. If he had to go through hell to win immortality and stay on the so-far lousy amusement park ride that was life, then so be it.

And so, with his gaze trained on the other, not waiting for much in the way of a reply, he finally gave his answer:


"Alright. Do it. Make me a vampire."

He'd been holding his breath, the seconds ticking away slowly, as if they were hours and not made up of the blinks of an eye, or the steady drum of a heartbeat.

The terror flowing through him was stemmed only by the thought, the trust that he'd somehow imbued in this man and his snake, that he would come back. He had to, right? How could it go any differently? As his icey blue gaze locked on to the other man's, to the strange, beast-like slits of dark pupils, he suddenly wondered if his own would look like that, or if the man's odd form of magic had somehow locked his soul with that of the white serpent still draped around him. But he had no time to really think more on that, or allow himself the momentary pause to even ask because without warning, quicker than he could register that the man had moved, an exquisite pain stole away his voice, his very breath, before his lips had even parted.

Instead of words, a muted cry of pain left him - the sensation was strangely crushing and had surprised him, even though he knew it would happen soon. He knew it would go like this, it was almost a cliche, really... but as Azraeth held him just so, working at his flesh, tearing into blood vessels and quickly siphoning his life away, he felt his eyes squeeze tightly shut, trying instinctively to block it out. He wanted to struggle, in the way that any cornered animal might do, to try and flee after all, but the rational part of his mind knew it was simply too late for such a foolish thing as that. Instead, his fingers dug into the other man's arms, clinging tightly as he tried for all he was worth to breathe through the worst of the pain, to keep his mind working and focusing on exactly what he needed to do.

The specifics of that were yet unknown, but one word stayed sharp and present within the young human's mind: Survive. He knew his body had to die, and he tried hard to let himself be still and let his rasping breathing come to a steady halt, to let his heart slow to nothing, even though it was clear his body wanted to live. He didn't know anything about what was coming, how he would be, how his life would end up, such as it was. Would something as simple as eating or drinking be a thing of the past, or even the embrace of another? Would his body be the same, or would there be some fundamental difference? And what of his mind? Azraeth had said things would change, but what would those things be? And as the last of his final breath expelled from his clenched teeth, he mentally kicked himself for so readily accepting this stunted deal without first getting as many details as he could. Unprepared, but then, that was him.

Soon enough, though, the panic in his head even faded away to a dull buzz as nothing but silky blackness enveloped him, leaving him in a vacuum where he could hear only his own thoughts and that same, steady word whispering back at him, over and over. Survive. The phantom taste of salty sweetness was wet upon his lips, but that was somewhere else, some detached part of himself he could no longer sense with full clarity. He couldn't see, exactly, but that was alright; the sensation of things was still around him in the dark place and he could sense the presence of the other still somewhere close. He didn't know it then, that it was merely a spiritual closeness, as his would-be Sire's essence stayed near, but the idea of it flitted about his head as he finally stood and felt the darkness part as he took his first steps forward.

Some sort of energy surrounded his tall frame, humming around him like electricity in the phantom form of that gorgeous serpent and as he absorbed every bit of it, he could feel an odd strength filling every part of him. An even deeper darkness touched every corner of his soul and it wasn't long before he felt the energy moving again as it morphed into the form of a key, held loosely between trembling fingers that he could feel more than see. A sudden realization hit him that it wasn't fear that had him shaking for once, but the overwhelming power taking over his form, thrilling him with the unknown, sensational journey had had undertaken. He turned and there, just ahead of him, stood the gates he had heard Az whisper about, from somewhere very far away.

As he stepped through, he felt his Sire's presence fall away from him. A momentary terror filled him up until he heard the word again - Survive - and he knew he had to do this part on his own. Knew, somehow, that only he could pull himself from this darkened landscape of death and push through to the other side. And so, with conviction filling him to the very brim, he took what seemed to be a deep breath, and kept walking.

=----------------=

He couldn't know how much time passed, not by a long shot, but as his tongue swept over his lips, he felt it catch on a sharpened point and a gasp flew past to rattle in the back of his throat. A sweet tasting liquid filled his mouth and, as his eyelids cracked open, blue gaze filled with hazy shapes made up of equal parts reality and fantasy, he drew a deep, shuddering breath. Pupils had shifted to match those of his Sire, even if he couldn't know that just yet, and a pale visage had grown more pallid still. Yet he felt the rush of life flowing through him, different than blood flowing in his veins, but a semblance of life all the same. Somehow, he knew, he had made it to the other side, though how long it had taken and where his physical form had ended up, he did not know.

He drew another breath, still unable to help himself, before he thought to try out his voice to ask a question, not knowing if he was alone or if the strange man was still beside him:

"Where... where am I now?"

It was only to be the first of what, he was certain, would be many.