(Side Story: TC) Tempest

[Judah Marck]

Inspiration

His skin was a map of goose flesh, hair standing on end like soldiers to attention, the back of his neck prickling with sensation. It was close, it was so close. The anticipation had formed a tense knot at the base of his spine, nerves pinching unpleasantly as he tried to move forwards through the darkness that threatened to swallow him. The whispers were all around him, drowned out by the approaching wind and rain, the thunderous storm at his back as he waded further into blackness. Lightning flashed with it, bringing the world into view in stark glimpses, black and white. In that violent light he saw the Manor looming before him, his feet buried in the grass of the surrounding grounds. Another flash and his college apartment was washed out by the brightness of the opening sky. Flash. His Church. Flash. The graveyard. Flash. The room his Uncle had whispered his last words. This image lingered longer than the last, the first to contain a person, his Uncle emaciated and wasting into a mere husk of a man. Ravaged by the disease that claimed his life he reached for Jude, mouth open in a soundless cry of pain.

Then he was gone, and all was darkness.

A distant light beckoned him forward, the promise of a reprieve from the gathering storm. The weight of ozone was cloying, making the image of shadows parting on a figure bathed in white gold all the more startling. His pale hair was alight against the blackness around him, blue eyes sharp as daggers staring directly into Jude’s soul, cold as metal. Gregor. His smile was sardonic, it was the kind of smile that was often accompanied by a tongue lashing that held just enough truth to leave a tracery of unseen scars. The young man’s head shook, wearing the kind of disaffected posture that meant he’d said his piece, though no words had left him. No explanation, no anger and no warmth to soothe Jude’s guilty soul. Silence was deafening here, carrying such a weight that Jude felt smothered by it, pulled down towards his knees.

He refused to sink, to fall, fighting to struggle on to his unknown destination. To safety. That great stone table beneath the manor formed, Gregor stepping back until it hit the back of his thighs. The youth fell back onto it as if it were the most luxurious of beds, sinking into it, sinking down. Jude reached for him, diving forward just as it swallowed him, the surface turning to the silver sheen of a pond. The water was freezing, his arms sinking in up to his elbows before he felt hands clasp his, pulling the other out with a mighty heave that had them sprawling together on the ground. Above him, carefully balanced on his elbows and looking every bit the man he’d spent so many years longing for, was Austin.

Crystal tear drops dripped in perfect formation from his dark hair, running like tears down the planes of his face and shattering upon the ground around them, helped along by the mist of rain that had finally caught up to the scene. “What would Judah do?” The words crashed against his ears in time with the rolling thunder, but Jude had no answer to offer, lips parting only to have them sealed by another’s. The kiss was firm with love, but it held the salt of sadness, a farewell upon those lips. Hair tickled his cheeks, soft and warm, dry where his hands grasped it as he reached for him. For her. Austin was gone, and in his place was Anna. His beautiful, kind Anna. Her kisses drifted across his features, cheek settling to his to deliver the most delicate of butterfly kisses with her long, dark flashes. Warmth flooded him, he felt something hot running down his neck, his chest. The heat spread, a quickly cooling dampness that was mildly disconcerting as his wife stroked his hair. Jude held her as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever had the honour of touching, crushing her against his chest as if he could find her a place inside of it along with his heart and lungs; a vital piece that he needed to survive. His eyes sought out her own, so focused on them he didn't see the copper and crimson splashes that stained her skin and soaked through his clothing. “I love you.” He whispered, his voice a foreign scratch, dry and desperate to his own ears. “What would Judah do?” The same question, yet her delivery was softer, sadder in its nature than Austin’s.

His body shook as he tried to hold onto her, to think of an answer all the while fighting not to forget how it felt to have her with him. Protected, loved, whole. She began to slip away with the wind, the force of it separating their bodies. Judah sinking was downwards now, reaching up for her in the stifling black and white attire he’d worn to her funeral, watching the thin black tie flutter before his eyes. Damp earth collected him, the flashes of light revealing bones amongst the leaf litter and debris, his hands clawing at the earth as he rolled over, trying to drag his heavy body along the ground.

The silence ended abruptly, filled instead with various voices from his past and present, coming from too many directions to pick just one. A single voice rang out louder, higher than the others in its hope and need. August. Judah would know the sound of his son calling for him in any scenario, no matter how daunting. Suddenly it seemed the only direction to go, but the closer he got the brighter the light, the thicker the mud that pulled at his limbs. Blind and bowed he crawled, he scraped and scrambled towards the hunched figure, a tiny thing curled in on itself, arms wrapped around knees. The child shook, growing before Jude’s eyes until a man stared back at him. The near splitting image of his father, but with his mother’s eyes and a few inches taller. “You missed it.” The man announced, gesturing to himself. “What would Judah do?” His voice dripped sarcasm, a cool dismissal in the face of Jude’s reaching hands, the confirmation of his failure to be there for his son. His baby was gone, and left behind was a man who no longer cried for him, no longer cared enough to need him.

“What did you do?” A chorus of voices cried, bodies stalking towards him. There were only glimpses of their familiar faces, twisted in anger or pinched in pity as they rounded on him, crowded him. Fighting was useless now, the harder he tried to escape the more he sank, dragged down, down into the pit of despair, into a mess of his own making. Hope was fading with the light, the thick air swaddling his senses in a blanket of nothingness. Down, down, down, the weight of his failings surrounding him. Always something watched, a figure apart from the others that loomed, moving to follow him down, claws extending to claim him.

Crash, crack, flash. The storm was real, and he stood outside in it, shaking from head to toe. A man shouted his name, gripping his biceps and pulling him back against a warm chest, arms circling Jude to keep him in place. They were outside on a familiar street, across the road from his apartment complex and he was steadily becoming drenched. A nightmare. The man who held him was murmuring concerned platitudes, the only thing keeping a weary Judah from sinking to knees. The dreams had been occurring for about a week but this was the third time he'd walked in his sleep, and the first that had him getting across the street. Sleepwalking to an unknown destination, the only thing stopping him was the sheer dumb luck of a well-timed car horn, a passing stranger or in this case a fortuitous sleepover. His part-time lover pushed at the strands of his dark hair, murmuring in Spanish to a god he didn't really believe in, using those dulcet tones that lulled Jude into a false sense of security. Tonight he would be alright, hands urging him back inside, running gently along his spine. Tomorrow wasn't a guarantee, nor the next night. It was getting worse.

What WOULD Judah do?

The morning after brought no clarity, Jude crawling out of bed at the crack of dawn. Breakfast was prepared, his son August ushered out of bed to get ready for school and dropped off before Judah could finally have a moment to think. Naturally all he could think about was coffee, and getting the biggest, strongest one possible from his bakery. The Sweet Escape smelled like heaven, the pastries as tempting as the coffee he so desperately craved, knowing it would at least convince him he’d have the energy to make it through the day. He poured himself into a seat while cream was ladled liberally on top of his coffee and a pastry placed on his table, the manager offering a concerned little smile. Judah was in no mood to explain himself and so he grinned, faking a mind that was clear and a belief that the sun was shining just for him. In reality he was aware that a storm was coming, the clouds having no intention of clearing, nor the fog that layered his brain, making the simplest of tasks a chore. His phone was buzzing and there were people to face, but not before he was full to the brim with coffee and sugar, 5’9” of artificially induced energy.

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

Life was just starting to get into a comfortable lull for Hannah once again. With spring just around the corner and having a mild winter, there hadn't been a drastic influx of patients on the rehab floor of the hospital, as Hannah suspected would happen. Her sister had been gone for about a month now, there were no more Golden Serpents breathing down her neck; all in all, life was 'comfortable' again for the woman. At least it had been pretty 'comfortable,' 'routine' and pretty boring. Or at least life was no longer eventful as it had been when she first arrived here and then became a blood thief with the 'help' of Gino.

That was until she spotted Judah in the flats she lived in and stopped to say hello to her friend. He expressed his tiredness (which could be seen in his facial features) and some 'dreams' he had been having. Hannah had suggested that he get a dream book to make sense out of dreams, because she had heard (but didn't know if she believed) dreams were subconscious things that were tied to psychological stuff. Which might explain why Hannah didn't remember dreaming a lot, even though people said everyone dreamed. For the most part, Hannah felt good with her life; the exception being her murderous tendencies towards Gino-but that was rightly deserved. The only reason why she hadn't gone through with it was because Hannah didn't know how Levi might react to her killing his uncle. Was it 'uncle' or a legitimate uncle? It was hard to tell when it came to the crime world. Still, one day, Gino would get his due. She just had to be careful and smart. Things Hannah could do because she had done it for so long with the Serpents.

Another day and night went by and she saw Judah again and with high hopes and spirits, Hannah ventured to asking if his night had been better, and if he had gotten sleep. He confessed to staying with a friend, but then mentioned almost being ran over by a car. This dream thing was a lot worse than Hannah suspected and so, with uncertainty, she reached out to Alaric. By email. Which was probably a stupid idea, since he was really old, and he seemed to only know...German, was it? But Hannah just couldn't show up at the manor. Not after everything...and not with being who-or what she was. It was better for everyone if she stayed a safe distance away from anyone that was a vampire and anyone that was a Von Der Marck, the exception being Judah.

After she sent an email that would probably get her no further to getting him help, Hannah decided to take her own steps to helping Judah. Dream book shopping. She figured he hadn't done it, most men hated shopping and what guy would go looking for a book about dreams? Not many. Not that she would-but if it could help him sleep and keep Judah alive, then Hannah was going to get him the stupid (or not so stupid) book. Which was why she was standing in her favorite bookstore with the oddly peculiar woman that dressed from the 1800's that owned the place. Tonight, it seemed she wasn't there, which was good for everyone. Again. Hannah was positive that if someone dressed like that, they HAD to be a vampire and a really OLD vampire. She probably would jump over the counter and sink her fangs into her and drain her dry. Maybe. Was that possible? Hannah didn't want to find out-she seemed nice and Hannah genuinely liked her. Well, the two times they had met before Hannah became a blood thief.

Hannah moved through the aisles and when she saw titles of 'wicca' and 'parapsychology,' Hannah had a feeling she was in the right place. Or at least close to. She crouched down to look at the titles at the bottom shelves, then worked her way up, her left finger in the spines of books as Hannah read the titles. “Aha!” Hannah grabbed a book and pulled it from the shelf, then shook her head and grabbed the book next to it. After looking at the cover and seeing all the bright colors, Hannah snorted and put it back and reached for the previous book. Something by Freud. Why not? He was credible. And for giggles, she also picked up the 'A to Z guide for understanding dreams.' After purchasing booth books, Hannah looked at the time on her watch, then disappeared into another portion of the mall for a personal purchase. Her favorite perfume had squirted its last mist two nights ago and due to work, Hannah hadn't run out to buy any more. Hannah ducked into the store and wasted no time heading for the cosmetics department. After a quick browsing, Hannah found the right section and started going through bottles. When she found the right one and another she liked, Hannah bought them both, then headed to the exit of the mall. While she headed out, she grabbed her phone and scrolled for Judah's name. Once it came up, Hannah sent him a quick text.

To: Judah
From: Hannah

Message: Hi! I have a couple things for you. Where are you? Want to meet up? Hannah

She sent it, then took to a bench inside the mall and pulled out the 'A to Z' book, naturally curious.

[Alaric von der Marck]

Alaric had not yet organised meetings with the others. The meeting that he’d had with Judah had revealed a few things that were already on Alaric’s mind, and the elder wondered whether the family was, as yet, ready to be shaken up by the offer of immortality. The world had changed so much in the two centuries that he’d been dead; the way the minds of the living worked and processed things was different, too. They were more open to differences, to the ‘other’, to things that would have been taboo in Alaric’s time. Women had as much power as men -- and if they did not, they fought for it. It was progressive, and though it had taken Alaric some time to grow accustomed to the changes he’d soon learned, and retained that knowledge, and accepted it. He understood, and was proud, in some ways, of how the world was progressing.

The family itself, however, was in need of some stitching. The members were spread out and though there were a handful who called the estate home, that singular handful had issues. Alaric did not want to add immortality to the mix, not until the members of his planned entourage were good with each other. They had to know what they would be sacrificing. They would have to be certain it was what they wanted. And, above all, they had to provide a safety net for the family as it grew. More, distant members would be lured to Harper Rock, to the estate. The power of a united family could be cultivated, but only if the base was strong, only if the base could support the weight of the responsibility. Alaric was concerned that the weight would cripple members of a family who could not get along with each other.

He would watch, and he would wait. He would not get in the middle of their issues -- and he would hope that they would sort it out on their own, of their own volition.

Alaric’s nights, then, were spent continuing to learn the lay of the land. The library was his safe place, the place in which he prohibited technology. It was where he could go to escape the constant barrage of electronic signals. It was an ability he had yet to be able to control, and he often banished himself underground to try to cure the migraine caused by the incessant chatter.

Of course, any chatter that included his own name, any that was intended to be sent to him specifically was picked up before anything else. He sat at the top of the grand staircase, the haven of the library at his back and the wide world through the front door in front of him. His elbows rested on his knees, his fingers pressed into his temples. There was something there, something in the ether. Something for him, about Judah. From… from...

Mental fingers sifted through the electronic signals. He felt like he was chasing a psychic rabbit through many different wormholes; there were mental threads he had to clutch and keep still while searching the vathia for… for that.

Finally, he had the message displayed in his mind’s eye. From Hannah, whom he had met once and had not seen since. He’d been afraid the display at the estate had scared her off. The message said something about dreams, dreams that Judah thought might kill him. Dreams. They had talked about dreams in their meeting; Alaric could enter them. It was yet another ability he had no control over, but if he tried…

The email that was sent back to Hannah was done so subconsciously. He thought he might reply, if he found a computer to do so. He thought about how he would reply, in the English that Hannah had used. The reply was instead sent mentally, the message let go as Alaric decided it would be better to just seek Judah out himself. But he wouldn't be able to do so immediately; the sun was rising, and he had to go down into his dungeon.

The first thing he would do when he awoke was contact Judah. Alaric had no idea what the problem could be -- it could be nothing. It could be something. But Alaric would not know until he talked to Judah himself, and got to the bottom of it.

[Judah Marck]

A layer of sleep seemed to wrap him like a blanket, the weight of it across his shoulders both a comfort something designed to drag him down into a rest he was unprepared for. His eyelids felt weight, still feeling gritty with sleep when he blinked regardless of having been awake now for hours. Every time he blinked he felt the tiniest nudge of fear, an ever present bead of cold sweat threatening to trickle down his back, body running on adrenaline in a manner that had him hovering between fight or flight. Unexpected sounds made him jumpy and he could see those claws reaching for him every time he let his mind sit idle for too long. Jude concentrated on the coffee in front of him, forcing his weary body to stir sluggishly, reaching for it. Two sips revived him enough to sit up a little straighter, and a bite of pastry did wonders for his aching head. He'd sipped and nibbled, watching the world go by the window for what felt like forever. There were mums with prams hurrying to get chores down while the kids were at school, kids running late sprinting in the opposite direction and jostling each other like it were some kind of competition to get in the lead. Everything out there seemed so normal, nothing changing even as inside his brain whirled, mind reeling. Too many nights of broken sleep had him on edge and lacking in his ability to cling to the positive, putting at the forefront when things felt bleak.

There was a face he wanted to imagine, one that made him happy but as he let his imagination wander it was simply plagued with nightmarish flashes. Useless.

His coffee was coming to an end, the pastry reduced to crumbs and a pleasant aftertaste while he struggled to remain awake. An employee stopped by his table, a welcome distraction with her enthusiastic chatter. She was one of the early shift workers, coming in at 2 a.m. to bake and prep for the day, opening the store just before 6 a.m. in time for the early birds to head in for their supersize coffees and boxes of delicious delights to take in to the office. Jude's phone had buzzed numerous times throughout the morning, two calls, a handful of emails and a spattering of texts that he knew would require attention. As his employee collected the plate and bounded back to the kitchen he finally pulled the device from his pocket, greeted with the most recent text. Hannah? She wanted to see him, had something to give him and wanted to know where he was. He was surprised that she'd be out and about so early, he'd only had one coffee refill and hadn't it only been a few minutes ago he'd seen children on their way to school? He was alarmed to see it was later than expected, checking the time on his phone and glancing up to notice the store manager watching him with her concerned, motherly gaze. She must have thought he was mad, sitting there tuned out for over an hour.

A reply was typed, alerting her to his location and the fact that he had every intention of leaving now to get to the Church, ensuring Hannah he'd be happy for her to drop by. There was work to do at St.Johannes and he'd already wasted half the morning. The Pastor collected a box of sweets, as many others had done before him that morning, and a takeaway coffee, receiving a gentle tut from the woman behind the counter that he ignored with a friendly, "Bless you." Retreating before the questions started.

His office was a sanctuary and a prison in equal measure, a place where he found solitude and yet buried himself beneath piles of paperwork that appeared endless. Of late he'd reorganised the business model, allocating more funds to hire someone to handle the clerical side of things so that Jude could focus on being the face of the church as intended. Ever present, on hand to help out his congregation. The junior Pastor carried his fair share of the weight and between them they'd worked out a schedule that allowed the senior of the pair time to actually have a life. Jude wasn't really used to having a life, evidenced from the tired thumbs-up selfie he sent a concerned party whose texts he'd ignored. Today he had no set meetings or sermons, and so as his hands failed to correctly fumble the white collar into place around the neck of his black work shirt he abandoned the task. Coffee was only barely doing the job of keeping him with the program, the drive to St.Johannes being a true test of will. He only half regretted mentioning this to the Texan who was no doubt pacing his office, cursing in his preferred Spanish at Jude's insisting he was "fine, just tired". He'd get a lift home, August's grandparents were already scheduled to pick him up from school, Jude wouldn't be collecting him until the evening. Plenty of time to get his **** together.

Waiting for Hannah to arrive Jude decided to devote some time to the notes on his desk, sinking down into the plush chair and putting pen to paper. The pen barely moved before his eyes began to droop, his body relaxing back beneath the weight of exhaustion, that blanket of sleep finally smothering him. He stood in the storm, at the mercy of the elements and the creatures that stalked him beneath the cover of darkness.

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

Hannah had gotten Judah's message first, only because her phone was set up that way. No matter how many times Hannah had argued with the thing for setting up email notifications, it was rare she ever got them on her phone. Hannah scrolled through the message to see Judah's reply and she smiled, while tucking the hair on the left side of her face, behind her left ear. Jude seemed to be pretty 'normal' with his reply...maybe the dreams had stopped? Still, she wasn't going to take the books back-who knew when they might come in handy?

The smile faltered when Hannah read that he would be at the church. Hannah had never gotten the impression that Judah was ever judging her (not that he knew the things that she was sure he would judge her on), but there was still that strange stigma of the church in the back of her mind. Of being a good person while in a church of any denomination. A mid-west concept the woman hadn't shaken free of, no matter how long she lived in Japan. But, there wasn't anything she could do. He had work to do, and that was where he worked. Hannah would just make sure to try and keep conversations geared away from too much personal stuff on her end. Which should be easy, because really, her concern was about Judah.

To: Judah
From: Hannah

Message: I'll see you there! Shouldn't be more than twenty minutes!

Once the message was sent, Hannah stood and then frowned as a silent notification popped up about an email. Standing in one place, the woman opened her email account and blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected to hear anything from Alaric, because didn't he only know German? The title to the message was the same that she sent, so that seemed promising. Only, when she opened it, Hannah couldn't make any sense of it. It was readable, but what did Alaric mean by walking and dreaming? Was it some sort of family thing? Like eye color passed on through the years, or some sort of medical condition? Did Alaric sleep walk too? She wanted to ask these questions, but feared that they would be over Alaric's head when it came to understanding the English language and what she meant. For now, Hannah would think on it. The phone was set inside her purse, before Hannah grabbed the paper bag with the books in them, and headed for her car.

Once she was in her car, Hannah locked the door (Because who wanted to deal with Gino or his men right now?) and set the book bag in the passenger seat. Her purse was set in front of it, but she sighed, as Hannah came to the realization that she would have to reply as basic as possible. So, she dug her phone out, opened her email account and replied to Alaric with quick fingers.

To: Alaric Von Der Marck
From Hannah Lynn

Message: Okay. Good luck! We'll be at the church.

She didn't know what else to say, but she wanted him to know she got his message and she did hope that he could figure out how to solve Judah's dream walking problem. Everyone needed sleep. That was the final thought before she started the car, reversed it and headed to Judah's church.

[Judah Marck]

And as he dreamed, alone in his office...

J U D A H
The eye of the storm rolled over him, filling his world with black and grey silence. It was something out of an old hollywood horror movie, even down to his outfit. The trees seemed to have a life of their own, every time he turned around he could have sworn they'd moved and shifted, great branches bending and swaying under the pressure of the building storm. The shadows rippled and rolled, a mass of something looming in them. Voices started out as whispers, so faint he was convinced they were deep in the copse of trees. He did not move, barely confident enough to breathe, his ears straining to hear them.

A L A R I C
Alaric went to bed like he always did. With Hannah's email still flinging around in his head and the sun creeping up over the horizon, he knew that there was nothing he could do about it, not until the sun had set again. One single day could do no harm, though. This he told himself as he slipped beneath the covers, the fire still crackling nearby -- he never went to sleep in darkness, he could not sleep in darkness. How long was he asleep before the landscape of his mind shifted, his psyche leaping into that of another? Judah had been on his mind, but he could not know that this was Judah's dream into which he had been flung. At first, it had Alaric crouching, hand over mouth. Everything was black and white. There was no colour. This was the Shadow Realm all over again. He was dead. How many times had he awoken in terror from such a nightmare? And yet, there were voices. Up ahead, a figure that stood out against the trees -- a figure, with skin, a face. Not a shadow, not a wraith. And there was a storm overhead, the sky an actual sky. This was not the realm. There was no weather in the realm. Slowly standing, Alaric stood and slowly approached the figure. He tried to call out but his voice was muffled, nigh non-existent. Still, he approached.

J U D A H
There was something coming closer, paying no mind to the voices as it seemed to stalk towards him. Judah startled, broken from his fear induced to stillness to step back a few paces, reluctant to take his eyes off whatever was coming towards him. Lightning cracked the sky, forks of it touching the tips of trees, threatening to light them up without a moment's notice. "No, I... I'm sorry. Please. Just let me be!" He cried out, backing up into denser forest.

A L A R I C As soon as the face was recognised, things started to go wrong. It was Judah. The pieces fell into place and Alaric realised he was not in his own mind. This was not his nightmare. It inspired confidence where previously he'd been anxious. He wanted to reveal himself to Judah, to show the boy he meant no harm, but as soon as he tried to get closer the trees tripped him up. Roots grew where previously there'd been none, branches lashes his face, vines tried to curl around his wrists. There were other figures in the shadows, darker shadows circling closer. Alaric screamed out to Judah -- this was not his dream, he could not control it. Could he? If only Judah could recognise the familiar face, the dream might stop trying to eject him...

J U D A H
A familiar voice called to him, one that he knew he should have been able to place but his heart was beating out of his chest, the sound of blood rushing in his ears. It made him dizzy, Judah stumbling over a root that seemed to come out nowhere, pushing up through the ground. He swore it was trying to grab him, the root beginning to look more skeletal, the branches forming into long fingers that half wrapped his ankle. He struggled, trying to find purchase on previously rain slicked earth, the voices crowding him carried by the wind, the flashes of lightning getting closer. He felt like he'd fallen into Oz after a natural disaster - everything was ruin and there were no friendly scarecrows, tinmen or lions to keep him company.

A L A R I C
The elder swore heavily in German as he grabbed and wrenched at the branches and vines. He felt like he was slogging through quicksand to get to Judah; he recalled that voice in his ear, the young man he'd never met. Gregor had passed him by as Alaric came back to life, Gregor sucked into the void. He'd charged the elder with fixing what was broken, of caring for what was left. It was easy to get lost in this insanity, to believe it to be real. Would telepathy work? Alaric ground his teeth together and closed his eyes; he focused. Judah, calm. You are dreaming. Wake up. Wake up. What would happen if Judah woke up? Would Alaric be stuck here in his nightmare, or would he be snapped back into his own skull? If the telepathy worked, he would find out. If not? He'd have to keep trying.

J U D A H
It was in his head now, a voice he knew, a voice he ought to listen to. His body thrashed convulsively, wrestling with the roots that continued their relentless endeavour to thwart his escape. An almighty kick had him free at least, no choice but to throw himself forward into the open space he'd started in, trying to remember how'd he got there in the first place. A dream, the voice had said it was a dream. It didn't feel like a dream, it felt like a trick. "Alaric?" His voice was cracked, high and desperate as he called out for the man.

[Alaric von der Marck]

A L A R I C There it was. Judah, calling Alaric's name. The elder reasoned that the roots and branches, the vines and the wind would let him go, let him pass. Judah would welcome Alaric into his mind, and they could work together. And yet, the vines only tightened their hold, a creature, tall and gangly, terrifying and furious, passed in front of Alaric. It blocked his view of Judah. As soon as Alaric opened his mouth to shout out, there was a vine curling down his throat. The eyes of a monster bore into Alaric's skull and all telepathic communication ceased, Alaric confused and addled. This did not feel like a regular dream. This felt different. And, suddenly, the elder realised he was not the only one inside Judah's mind.

J U D A H
He felt alone all over again, alone with that creeping creature. A new was present, a husky whisper that seemed to have no definable origin. It was genderless at first, just a scratching sound that scraped at his ear drums like nails down a chalkboard. As the voice grew louder it somehow softened, becoming more human, more masculine, more... Like his. "What are we doing here?" He appeared out of nowhere, just at the edge of Judah's vision. His near exact duplicate, the slightest of changes between them mostly pertaining to posture and presence, like this guy had all the answers and all the scorn for his twin over it. "Stop ******* up. Let's go. They're waiting."

A L A R I C
Alaric was struggling. He needed to know how to control this. He couldn't just be a voyeur. If Judah could not battle the invader, if Judah was unaware, Alaric had to do it for him. He had to try. A low growl rippled from his chest, teeth clamping upon the vine that tried to drown him, and strangle him from the inside. This was a dream, Alaric was a vampire. Breathing did not matter. He tried to push his willpower against the invader, he tried to imagine his own psyche billowing to contradict the darkness. There was a voice up ahead, it sounded like Judah's. They're waiting, it said. It was ominous, and Alaric would not have it.

J U D A H
The copycat crept forward, there was a swagger to his walk that screamed of self-assurance and something almost calculating about the way he eyed Judah. "You're late, they've been calling you for a week. Seriously, dude, you better get a fire under your ***." Jude was bewildered, no idea what the man was talking about but the more he talked, the more he could see the differences between them. He was no reflection, he was something other. Something wrong. "I'm not... I can't. I have other places to be." Jude argued, trying to move around the man, as if there were any escape from this situation he'd landed himself in.

That was when the impostor grabbed him, the hands strong as steel, wrapping around his biceps and trying to wrestle him into submission. He fought the hold but it was useless, those hands were stronger, the fingers elongating and curling into claws that bit against his flesh. He yelped in response, feeling the pain as it sliced through the fabric of his clothing. Blood welled from the shallow cuts, his eyes widening in fear as the man before him shifted, growing and becoming misshapen before them. He was turning into some great horror, or at least the thing that looked like him, and Jude was being dragged along for the ride. Was this his fate?

A L A R I C
Whatever the entity was, Alaric was not strong enough to battle it. He could only try to outrun it. He wrenched his limbs from the grip of the undergrowth and he bolted, feigning left and then right to get around the creature that tried to block his path. The distance between himself and Judah only lengthened but, with severe determination he forged onward. It was a dream. It was not real. He focused, he imagined himself beside Judah and suddenly, there he was. Unfolding out of the mist, Alaric was suddenly full form, fully dressed rather than only in his pyjama slacks. He had a gleaming sword in his hand which slashed and bit at the dream-thing's arms. He fell by Judah, the real Judah. He grabbed Judah by the shoulders and shook. Wake up, he screamed, though his voice had again been stolen from him. That didn't stop the desperation from gleaming in his eyes, his mouth spread into a forthright grimace.

J U D A H
That sword flashed down between them, severing the physical connection but Judah knew some damage was done, deep down in the depths of his soul he felt some strange allegiance to the being. Not that he wanted to go with it, but that eventually he would. It would not rest until one of them succumbed to the other, and he wasn't feeling strong enough to beat it. As Alaric took hold of him his body slumped, crumbling towards the ground, eyes closing on the scene with the knowledge that he would soon return to his waking world. To him this was no dream, to him this was a hopeless future that stalked him, desperate and hungry to claim him. All he could do was fight, to fight and to wake up... He had to wake up.

[Sterling Monsivais (DELETED 6002)]

"...Mr Monsivais?" The young woman that hovered in the doorway considered him with an expression that wavered between concern and mild skepticism. The rising inflection indicated it wasn't the first time she'd tried to get his attention. He glanced up a moment later, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the impassive screen of his phone. "Sorry. Yes." He aimed a distracted smile at her. Kate, he reminded himself. A summer intern. She'd taken the job on her parent's suggestion ('ultimatum' was such an ugly word,) for 'real world' experience prior to entering law school in the fall. Sterling had no complaints; she was organized, and mostly punctual. And, he realized belatedly, eyeing him with the morbid curiosity of someone witnessing a stroke patient. "Your twelve o'clock appointment is here." " Thank you." He paused, his attention returning to the darkened screen of his phone, nestled within the matte black desk organizer that doubled as a charging station. "Do they have an appointment?" Kate's expression shifted minutely, bordering on bemused. Her eyes narrowed slightly, false lashes shadowing her cheeks. "Yes. Your twelve --" she began again, delicately.

She paused, the mild exasperation in her tone lessening as his gaze shifted to the mahogany paneled entertainment center that occupied the far wall. It was vaguely Edwardian in design; partitioned into a series of square-cornered shelving with glass doors and polished brass knobs, sculpted into the shape of delicate marigolds. A small five gallon tank crowned the upper shelf just above the flat screen. The pale bodies of sea monkeys glowed in the early morning light, a handful crowding around the aeration pump that rested on the bottom of the tank, partially obscured by the charcoal colored gravel that sheltered it. They were in a frenzy; spinning around the tiny bubbles that surfaced. His gaze fixed on the navy news crawl at the bottom of a local morning talk show; mercifully muted. He'd switched it on out of force of habit. "It's a quarter past ten," he pointed out. There was a note of mild surprise in his tone. He'd been steadily losing time for the better part of an hour. He'd chalked it up the events of the evening before. Sleep had been slow in coming after collecting Jude from the torrential downpour.

The events of the evening returned in flashes. Jude, soaked to the skin as Sterling's arms locked around him in an effort to mask the frantic beating of his heart against the other man's back. The honey-warm glow of the bathroom light as he patiently toweled him off, cupping his numb hands in his own and breathing across knuckles so stark and white that they appeared marbled. Bruised. Curling around him as they both stumbled to bed, only managing to drift off as the first gray fingers of dawn flooded the room. He'd gripped him by the shoulders that morning, groaning against the crook of his neck as he tried to struggle free of the sheets, huffing his protest between a flurry of kisses against the curve of his shoulder. He'd been foiled, in the end. Jude had broken free, leaving him to drowse for half an hour more before he, too, had gotten up.

He jarred himself from his thoughts a moment later. "Tell them I'll need to reschedule," he said abruptly, pushing back from his desk. He didn't bother to wait for a reply, pausing long enough to gather up his phone, sliding it into his jacket pocket, before brushing past her. He was on the road fifteen minutes later, having paused long enough to grab a sandwich and a bottle of tea, before re-entering the car and taking the exit towards the church. He arrived a few minutes past 11. He took a moment to collect himself, catching a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes with a low sigh of resignation before absently killing the engine. He made his way inside, his steps overly casual as he walked the hallway in an effort not to hurry needlessly. He paused just outside of his office door, fingers curling to rap his knuckles lightly against the frame. A handful of seconds dragged past before, perturbed by the lack of a response, he let himself in.

A low sigh escaped him at the sight that greeted him. Half relief, and half exasperation. It didn't stop him from crossing over to Jude, shrugging out of his jacket as he did so. He draped it over him a heartbeat later, carefully tucking in the sides. "'Fine,'" he echoed in a low mutter, gently reaching out to smooth his palm over Jude's hair. "Someone's full of sh--aaand I'm in a church."

[Hannah Lynn (DELETED 8242)]

Hannah had a lot more faith in her driving skills than she should, by now. It seemed that no matter what time of day it was in Harper Rock, streets were congested due to meal times, before work, after work, or just life in general. Music events, basketball games, hockey games (did Canadians love their hockey), and other things throughout the year. It never seemed to end; the hustle and bustle of cars in the streets.

Hannah took a deep breath in when she was still five miles away and running short on time, and found her favorite CD by her favorite group that was no longer a group since Gwen went and did her own thing. Hannah couldn't blame her, but wouldn't it be great if they all got back together and cut another album? Hannah thought, and hoped so.

One set of hands remained on the steering wheel, while the other tapped at the middle console in the car, keeping to the beat as her blue eyes fell on people walking on the streets. Moving at a pace faster than she was. "UGH." Hannah said as she slumped down in the seat a little and then gently laid on the horn. Just what was going on?!

After a few more minutes of inching forward and then sitting, Hannah put her head back on the top of the seat she was sitting on, flicked her signal on and merged her way into the lane closest to the parking lane where she planned on parking the large jeep meet truck vehicle Hannah got off the Serpents before she was free from them, and walking to the church. What would a little over four miles do? Other than ruin her brand new pair of boots. Another, "UGH." And that was when she remembered that Hannah wasn't restricted by normal human physics anymore. The woman exited her parked monster of a vehicle after grabbing her purse and the bag with the books for Judah. Hannah searched for the nearest alleyway, ducked into it and then looked for the lowest roof in the series of buildings before the woman stuffed the books as best as she could into her purse, zipped it until she couldn't anymore and then backed up against a wall.

Maybe, If Hannah wasn't good at rock climbing and other physical feats, the woman wouldn't have the upper body to apply the vampire power she 'borrowed' from her more than willing donor. While it was still humanly impossible to pull off jumping from building to building to building before getting tired from holding ones weight, Hannah didn't seem to have a problem with that; due to the vampire blood and her own physical prowess.

Her right foot lifted up and laid against the stone wall her back was being supported on for the time being, before Hannah took a deep breath in, exhaled it and then took another one, before shoving off the brick wall as she ran for the three story building. Her right hand grabbed a window sill first, before the left joined, her purse slamming against the wall and thunking her wrist while Hannah pulled her weight up from window to window until the woman was on top of the building. When she made it to the top, Hannah rubbed at her wrist, that was a little sorer than she would like, glanced around and started running for the next roof, and then the next. This was faster, but it still was going to be a long four miles.

[Judah Marck]

He had been still when Sterling entered the room, no outward sign of acknowledgement from the dozing Judah behind the slightly louder huff of breath as the weight of the jacket was laid across him. It might have been a comfort if he were stuck in a different dream, not the nightmare where he was trapped and pursued by things eager to trap and keep him. The man’s brow was slightly creased, the first sign of his sleep being less than restful, his head turning softly against the back of the chair where it rested. Beneath the dark lashes that fanned elegantly against his orbital bone were the shadows of sleepless nights. Bruised looking splashes of faint purples and blues ringed them, dark circles that enhanced the fine tracery of veins hidden beneath the fine skin. It made him look older and yet simultaneously younger, vulnerable in a way his boisterous smile hid when he was aware and facing the day.

Deep in his dream he didn’t smile, his frown only deepening as it progressed. He had grown more agitated, his breath coming faster and accompanied by soft sounds of distress, of frustration. He’d jerked away from some invisible foe, his hands flexing and stretching as if he were going to grasp at something, seeking blindly. That was when he cried out, a broken, desperate sound of fear and pain, those hands suddenly pushing outwards from him. There path was unclear, but they drove forward with purpose, hand clasping or the figure he sensed in front of him. “Alaric!” The name tumbled from his lips, urgent and flustered, finally opening his eyes as sleep dropped away from him abruptly. Jude’s head spun, the man disorientated to say the least as he tried to reconcile his surroundings with the dream he’d just woken from, peeling back the layers of his nightmare to better recognise the reality he woke to.

It wasn’t Alaric coming to find him at all, that was part of the dream. It was Sterling. Bafflement flitted across his features, his head turning slowly to look around at his office. Just the two of them. His hands fell away, his embarrassment slow to form as he swallowed hard, trying to dislodge from his throat where it had jumped up in his alarm. “Sterling?” His voice was hoarse, roughened by sleep and upset. He'd not been expecting the man to appear in his office, not that he was unhappy to see him, it was simply that he had been expecting someone else entirely. Had Hannah come and gone? Had he slept through her arrival and subsequent departure? That seemed unlikely and yet the concept of time had been running away from him of late. “What time is it?” Jude lifted a hand to press the heel his palm against his eyes, one after the other, trying to rub away the sleepy feeling. The other stretched out across the desk, fumbling for the phone he'd abandoned there earlier. The phone was skipped over for the water bottle instead, Jude unconvinced he was ready to face having fallen asleep for hours. The presence of the bottle in his hand made him aware of the fact that he was parched, desperately thirsty in a way that he was certain the only way to remove the cotton thick fog of his brain was to drink his weight in water. That was exactly what he seemed determined to do. The bottle lid proved to be trickier for his trembling hands that he’d anticipated, not having noticed the delicate quiver that wracked him.

Exhaustion was a ***** and she was biting his ***.