FP 100 Prompt Challenge
Who: Demian Zalyams'ki and Vedette Adolphus with guest moments by Jolly, Lucius, Sabastian and Aeron. When: April 15th 1912 Where: south of the Grand Banks of Newfoundland
"I should never have trusted you." Demian hissed as he gripped the bars in front of him. Under normal circumstances, he could have bent the metal and pulled it off. Under normal circumstances.
"Awwww, pooooooor cher." Vedette pouted, and then gave a furtive look over her shoulder. "Sorry, I can't risk you getting back and revealing what you learned." She growled as she turned back, glaring at Demian. "This is the best way."
"You fucking bitch!" Demian rattled the bars, then grabbed, trying to reach her through them. He reared back hissing in pain.
"Maybe if you didn't have so much faith in your God? You'd have a chance. But, ever the priest at heart." She told him, her voice mocking him with every word. "I must bid you farewell, cher! I hear that the lifeboats are filling up quickly. Do not fear, Demian, darling. I will tell Sabastian and Jolly that you were very brave."
Her smirk and careless wave were the last things he saw of her as she slammed the door.
Demian slammed his fist into the metal of the cage that locked him down, and then nursed the flesh against his chest. The ominous creak that rattled the boat frightened him far more than he wished to admit. And for a moment, he truly feared he was about to burst into tears.
It had started a few hours before.
They were traveling from Southhampton to New York. From there, they'd go to Chicago and report back to Jolly. They'd been sent to represent the Prince of Chicago to talk to a Prince in London. He knew she'd been up to something. He'd even figured out that she was stealing and smuggling certain art pieces aboard the ship. He hadn't really cared.
But it was the fact that she'd gone to see a Sabbat leader, that had given him pause. It was what he was going to have to report to Sabastian. They couldn't trust her. When he'd seen her leaving the man's side with a smile on her lips, he'd gone out of his way to discover what she might have discussed with him. He'd discovered after making a trip down to steerage.
She was going to assassinate three of the Primogen Council. And help destroy all that they'd built so far. The marks? Lucius. Jolly. Niculaie.
He underestimated her.
Underestimated her power.
She realized that he'd been following her, and she ambushed him back in the room.
Her attack had been swift and to the point. She didn't bother with goading or crowing about her plans at that time. Instead, she'd injured him past the point he was able to defend himself. Past the point of his having any energy to fight back. And then when he was nearly starved beyond all endurance and reason, she had put a glass of blood to his lips, depending on the Beast to do her work for her.
He swallowed the vile and thick liquid, unable to help himself, even as he tasted the bitter powder that had been added. Poison.
The poison wouldn't kill him, no. But it would and could slow him down even further.
He lost consciousness and when he woke, he found himself in a cage meant for pets. Large pets, to be sure, but pets. The bars had been decorated with various religious items. Things that had no meaning to Vedette, therefore had no power over her. But meant everything to Demian and therefore, a weakness.
"Dear Lord." He prayed in a low whisper as he heard another 'creak' that shook the ship. He didn't believe for a moment that God would save him. He was damned, and he knew it. But he still prayed. "If I'm to perish, please, at least spare my family. Destroy her too."
He screamed as the cage was thrown back against the wall, and the sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance. "Oh, God. Oh, GOD!" He screamed, throwing his arms up and holding his breath by reflex, despite knowing it would do no good.
The water had broken the doors open, and was rushing quickly into the room, causing the bed to float up as well as the rest of the furniture. Panic gave him strength that did not exist before, and he used his legs to kick at the door of the cage. It flew open, but as more water rushed into the room, he was slammed down. The room was filled with ice cold water, causing him to inhale sharply in surprise.
He felt his lungs, which he'd never truly thought about before burning as the ocean water filled them and he was cut off from oxygen. Logically, he was more than aware that he didn't truly need air to survive. He was after all technically dead. But his body still acted alive, and for several minutes he struggled and fought against what felt like drowning.
He still tried to hold his breath, even after the first inhalation of water. If he'd truly been alive, he would have eventually passed out. But it was not to be. Instead, he was aware and awake for all that followed.
The horrible echo of the water and the ship breaking apart. The sound of the ship moving quickly down down down through the water. He held on to the door, as best he could, silently sobbing as he realized he was being taken to the ocean floor.
His body was becoming water logged as finally his body forced him to let go of whatever was within. It was going through the motions of dying, again. And he could not stop it.
Silence came, eventually, and he knew they had finally come to a stop. That the wreck was over.
But as he tried to kick up, he had a new stab of panic.
He wasn't going anywhere.
There would be no swimming out of this. And as the cold water continued to cool his body temperature down down down further, he began to feel sluggish.
This, was going to be his tomb.
He was not meant to get out of this.
Allowing his arms to somewhat float at his sides, he looked up and could just imagine Vedette in one of the life boats.
He prayed she'd be in one till dawn, and maybe then she'd FRY!
But she was slippery. She'd get out of it, somehow.
That bitch!
He couldn't let her get away with it all. He couldn't go into a stupor for all eternity down here! It couldn't end this way!
It was a slow journey, not just because he could not swim, but because every movement had to be methodical. The cold, his wounds, and the poison... all working against him. Every step was torture. Every movement a new experience in pain.
Long before he managed to escape the ship itself, he'd gone blind. The frigid water froze his eyes, and he had begun to use vague touch to lead him out.
Often, he would feel panic as he feared he would not escape, that he would forever go in circles down there, since his fingers were numb.
He was crawling, unsure if he was going in the right direction, but figuring he could just keep going and eventually hit 'something'. He had to believe that. Had to! Or else he'd go insane.
Demian's face felt numb and swollen, he couldn't move his lips anymore. Couldn't close his eyes. They were swollen with liquid, and past his eyelids as they bulged.
Eventually, days, maybe weeks later, he could no longer move at all. His legs and arms would no longer bend. He had no idea how much time had passed. Time was eternity, at this point.
If he could have, he would have cried now but there were no more tears. He was trapped in a body that was trying to decompose, but wasn't being allowed to by the curse and magic that made him what he was.
When next he felt the presence of air, it was because he was floating.
His body had finally managed to decompose just enough, that it had risen to the top of the water.
And then it was new tortures as the sun and the water battled to see how much damage each could do to him before the other took over. The water put out the flames, while the sun made it feel as though he were boiling.
When he finally felt a hook in his shoulder, dragging him toward a boat... he wished they would just kill him and be done with it. But instead, they wrapped him in a sheet, and left him to 'dry' on the deck.
The families had complained about continued burials at sea, and so the ships were now taking bodies back to be hopefully identified. Halifax, Nova Scotia.
"Bodies 324 and 325." He vaguely heard a voice announce.
"That's them. I... recognize their jewelry. And their faces are... it's them." Was that... was that Jolly? Could it be Jolly? Please, let it be Jolly.
"Lucius, Aeron, make arrangements to move our dear family home. They will be buried in Chicago." That was Sabastian.
As the sound of movement surrounded him, he heard Sabastian call to the man that had referred to him as either 324 or 325. "Just a moment, a question..."
"Yes, sir?"
"Forget. Forget... You will forget." Sabastian whispered low in the man's ear. "You will remove all traces of passenger/victims 324 and 325. They do not exist. They never existed. And then you will forget."
"I will forget." The man agreed in a dreamy voice.
As he felt his body gently lifted and placed in a coffin, he heard Aeron mutter to the side. "Mother, you just can't stay out of trouble, can you? I didn't think we'd ever find you two. Mon dieu, one drowned and one frozen like ice. It is going to take forever to get them both back on their feet!"
Demian tensed, and struggled to get sound past his swollen lips. To warn Sabastian about Vedette!
He felt fingers on his shoulder, just before the casket was closed. "Rest now. We'll talk later. Much later. Till then, my son, rest. Daddy knows... all." The black haired vampire leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Demian's lips. As he stood up he barked. "Let's get these two home! Someone light a fire to warm Ved up. She and I have a LOT to talk about!"
As the casket lid shut, he hoped that meant what he thought it did.
Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.