InsaneJournal

Who: Vaako, Yvaine, Lestat, Edward, Riddick (Posting order?)
Where: Art Gallery
When: Afternoon
What: Come on and rescue me! /Aretha Franklin
Rating: R to NC-17 for sexuality and violence
Status: Complete


The man who had once been the First Commander of the most powerful and devastating army in the history of his universe, Lord Cylus Vaako, was barely holding onto consciousness. He could barely hold his own body up, even propped up as he was against the wall. He had a very dim view of his surroundings, but found that he was barely able to keep his eyelids open. His head hurt. That was odd enough in and of itself, given what he was. Necromongers barely feel pain.

He'd never felt anything like this, actually. Or not in so many years that he could barely remember what pain felt like. But then, in all the years that he'd been a Necromonger, he'd never allowed himself to go this long without the Purification. It was wearing off, that must be why he was feeling this. Damn it. It really wasn't all that convienant. Why now? He could have done without the splitting headache.

Of course, blood loss could have been a major part of it, too. The vampire Lestat had most definately not been keeping his hands to himself, nor his teeth. That was a good part of the weakness that the Necromonger felt, he was certain. Each and every time Lestat came to him, Vaako was convinced that somehow, this time, he was going to fend him off. And, predictibly, each and every time he failed, the vampire took what he wanted, and left him weaker than before.

Even worse, really, than the horribly intimacy of the vampire's touch, was the fact that he couldn't stop him from doing that, or taking any number of liberties with his body. There was a girl here, too, somewhere. He hadn't been able to talk to her. He didn't know what condition she was in. He couldn't, in fact, concentrate on very much at all. Really, it was all he could do to hold on to the semi-consciousness state he was in.