gʀɑɦɑɱ ɦɑʆɗɑʀ, ɛรquiʀɛ (businesslike) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-10-10 10:03:00 |
|
|||
It had been an interesting time since Jonathan had woken up somewhere between the land of the living and the land of the living dead. Vlad knew, to a degree, that he was acting selfishly. He let it go on longer than he maybe should have, clinging desperately to the warmth and life and blood coursing through Jonathan. How could he bring himself to damn such a beautiful thing? It was unfair. It was always unfair with them, but, in a sense, it was perhaps the nicest thing Orange County had done for them. Assuming that Jonathan wasn’t changed completely, they had a never ending future together. That wasn’t something to be scoffed at. Over the course of the days, Vlad had been watching Jonathan. He was always acutely aware of the man. He’d noticed the change in habits, recognized them from his own awkward transition, and pity had begun to sink in. Pity and regret. It stewed and simmered inside of him, mixing with the mental exhaustion that Jonathan emitted day and night. It was too much for him, Vlad knew that. Vlad had dreamed his own becoming, once as a memory, once reliving it, but he’d been cushioned by already being a vampire in his dreams when he transitioned. Jonathan was starting out new in both worlds. Vlad had to help, not hinder. On a night when the skies were unusually clear, Vlad knew he couldn’t put it off anymore. He tucked Felix away in a spare bedroom so the pup didn’t grow distressed, seeking out Jonathan in the dimly lit house. (There seemed no point in wasting electricity if they could both see.) Jonathan promised he’d give Vlad time, and he stuck to his word. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else, really, since it seemed incredibly wrong to be demanding of a bite that would essentially kill him - only for him to emerge from that velvet coffin and begin anew as something else entirely, the creature that Zelda had witnessed in her visions. It was a lot of pressure to put on his partner, a burden to know that the clock was ticking - they both understood how this would turn out, and so if Vlad needed extra time to come to terms with being the one to toss his beloved down a black ravine then Jonathan would give it to him. It was difficult though, because like it or not, he was changing, had been changing. He hadn’t dreamed past being turned by Dracula yet but in the waking hours now he was trapped on the edge of a cliff and couldn’t go any further; dangling there waiting to fall into the abyss was quite taxing on his mind. His body too, which had begun to crave sustenance that wasn’t so much food but life instead. Heartbeats. Jonathan heard them constantly, they were like sweet lullabies tempting him the way a whole buffet of desserts might, wrapping him up in their warm embrace - difficult to be around people, yes, which meant he was a little bit of a recluse. The sense of deja vu was prominent (he’d witnessed this with Vlad, during his own transition), especially when he found he was chugging carton after carton of coconut water in a desperate attempt to quell the whisperings and urges of a faint, dark presence within him. The kitchen was where he was now, the only light given off was from the fridge. He stood in front of it, rummaging, and unearthed the final carton. Gave it a shake. Almost out, which was tragic, but he opened it and tipped it back to get the very few remaining drops anyway. It...sort of helped. “This was the last one,” he said, tossing it into the trash when he caught sight of Vlad out of the corner of his eye. Vlad stepped forward, hand outstretched. Death was, quite literally, beckoning Jonathan. "That is of no concern." Cold fingers closed around Jonathan's. Vlad drew him close, inhaling, taking in the last of what he could. He would miss the heartbeat most of all. "I believe I have delayed this long enough. Yet you have humoured me, and now I owe you my end of the bargain." If vampires could sweat, that would probably be where Vlad would start. Instead, his grip tightened. His own dark whispers had started up again, urging the arrival of their companion. Would Jonathan stay eternally devoted to him, though? Would he be some form of Dracula's bride or would he be like vampires in Vlad's other dream and turn on him? Vlad did not like the uncertainty. It was evident in his voice. And that heartbeat skipped. Once, twice, a few times, as Jonathan was pulled in close, bodies colliding. His eyes widened a touch, a flash of uncertainty in the depths of the springtime green, but mostly because...they were in the kitchen. Vlad wanted to do this in the kitchen? “It wasn’t humoring you,” he corrected gently, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones in a way that was meant to be soothing. “I told you I’d give you anything you needed.” Most anything - but he’d be hard pressed to think of something he wouldn’t do; time for acceptance wasn’t even close to anything Jonathan wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been suspicious if Vlad had jumped right in anyway. Because he knew what would happen. He’d already been living this. He knew what it did to someone, how it would change them. Jonathan couldn’t ever doubt that Vlad loved him - if he didn’t, all of this would have been easy, like working out elementary school mathematics. It would have been simple. But it wasn’t. He swallowed, looking down through his lashes. “Then I’m ready if you are.” No, maybe not the kitchen. Vlad simply felt they had to do it now, before his resolve dissipated. He took Jonathan's hand, kissing his knuckles, drawing him into the more comfortable surroundings of the living room. Vlad felt it had to be done there - a part of him thought the bedroom was too intimate. And, yes, this act would be equally intimate in its way, but the bedroom was a place to rest. To set the mind at ease. Vlad wouldn't associate the two. There was a brief moment of standing before Vlad sat them both down. Jonathan would die. There was no telling how long he may be dead before waking up, it would be better to be moderately comfortable. It would make Vlad feel better. He pressed their foreheads together as he gripped the back of Jonathan's neck. "You will feel disoriented at first. Your instincts, they will follow quickly, and you will feel ... Like yourself and not all at once." Vlad fixed Jonathan with a steady stare. "I believe you are too strong a man to be lost to the demon. All the same, trust I will not let you forget the man you are, as you have done for me. I will do all I am able to help you navigate your new world." He wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, and Jonathan needed to hear that - to hear that he wouldn’t be floating adrift in a churning sea of red, of blood, by himself. And, more importantly, that he was steely enough to find his way back as well. For him, it had been difficult to balance everything - to come to terms with Vlad’s own change, and also pull those humanity reminders to the forefront sometimes. To keep them where they belonged, very much alive, in a heart that was no longer beating. There were parts of him that were distinctly not human, and Jonathan had accepted that while at the same time not letting go of the man he’d been before, the man without the demon who had found a home within. Not something your usual couple faced, but that was them. Some days he really felt it, that they’d been through so much together in a relatively short time and would continue to go through more. Yet he’d never lost faith in them and at the end of the day, after all the storms weathered, two people had to want to be together - that was enough. He nodded slightly, hands resting in Vlad’s lap, on his thighs, and shifted to kiss him on the forehead, then his mouth. “I know you won’t let me forget. That’s why I love you.” No, when Vlad had envisioned his future, this hadn’t exactly been the sort of thing to come up. He figured he’d find a partner he wanted to commit to, and from there the biggest decisions would be regarding where to live, bank accounts, and maybe one day children. Turning his partner into a vampire was - oddly enough - never on that list. What a funny sort of world. Vlad exhaled through his nose as he gave Jonathan a kiss in turn. The action was pointless, Vlad’s body was devoid of breath, but he found the familiarity of the action to be calming. He lingered, lips pressed to lips, wanting to feel the last breaths that Jonathan would ever take. It would never be a comforting warmth again. It would only be cold, though maybe neither of them would feel it so much if they both lived it. “And it is because I love you that I must do this to you.” And that was really it, wasn’t it? If Vlad had an indifference toward Jonathan, he would let him carry on this way. If Vlad held all the spite for Jonathan that Dracula did, Jonathan would have been dead long ago. But love, Vlad had heard, often required sacrifices, so this would be theirs. “Te iubesc.” The words were scarcely a whisper as Vlad’s mouth found Jonathan’s neck. He wouldn’t give either of them time to think now. They’d said what they needed to, words of reassurance, promises made. The more they delayed, the harder it would be, so Vlad sought out the wounds already marking Jonathan’s neck and bit. In response, Jonathan’s grip on Vlad tightened, words in the action. Și eu te iubesc, te voi iubi mereu, his head tilted back - neck exposed in an instinctual way, and the pierce of fangs sunk in deep to give him that fuzzy, lightheaded sensation the more the blood flowed. Stomach lurched, with all of the knife-wielding acrobats throwing blades within, his heartbeat spluttered - dying dancer on stage, wilting, curtains falling to head towards a lights out. Bees swarming, that sound of an angry hive echoing in his sensitive ears that picked up on the slightest pin drop these days. It was all cotton in his haze, like too much Novacaine, everything was slipping away and growing darker and he could feel the swish of that black velvet curtain about to close. Lid of the coffin slammed shut, soil poured atop it - that was when his eyes closed. Drained of blood, drained of life, his grip slackened, pallor to his skin - now a limp body on the sofa. The image of grass, surrounding the coffin buried six feet in the earth, closing in around him. Then he was out. He dreamed too. Dreamed a little, flashes of color and sound, before it all just...ended. Vlad held Jonathan, tighter and tighter as he felt the life fade away. He pressed his cheek to Jonathan's, unable to look at him. He didn't want to see death where he should simply see Jonathan. His fears were faces as he let the body go, careful in the way he rested it on the couch. It was unsettlingly peaceful. Vlad would need to distract himself. Uncertain of how long he had to wait, Vlad realized then that his new vampire companion would be hungry. Jonathan's possibly lingering morals or not, he would need to be fed, and Vlad could only offer one solution. He was pleased that he didn't need to go far. Scarcely a block down was a man he'd never seen before in the neighbourhood. Lost and unfamiliar with his surroundings, he was an ideal victim. Vlad did just enough to weaken the man, to the point of passing out, then bundled him into the house. Better, really, to have food waiting than to trust Jonathan to go out so soon. Beyond that task, easier than Vlad had anticipated, he paced. He couldn't linger long in the living room. The silence unnerved him. Each tick of the clock made him anxious - what if Jonathan never woke up at all? Vlad tried to busy himself with the news, laptop on the kitchen table, ears primed to listen for signs of Jonathan awakening. In that whole other world which felt galaxies away from this one, Jonathan was a spectator to his own death. The look of both revulsion and pity on Van Helsing’s face as he approached the coffin where the new vampire slept - he’d been missing for awhile, and his fiance was worried about him, but to come face to face with what the hunter had become? There was only one solution for this too. Which was why Van Helsing drove the stake into Jonathan’s chest - to end the suffering, to give him a proper death rather than witness him clinging to a monstrous existence which wasn’t really living at all, was it? At least not to the god-fearing men who wished to take it upon themselves to offer a chance for Jonathan’s soul to find peace in the beyond. As soon as the wood was buried within him, he began to age rapidly - immortality fading away, everything catching up to the present moment and becoming dust how it should be. Then he was dead. Gone. Closure that was meant to be bittersweet. Dead in one world, undead in another. In this one, everything was still and quiet and nothing on him moved at all - except for when those crimson eyes snapped open, and that was it. The motion probably felt like a jolt for Vlad - their mind link jolted to life too, and the strength of the connection would tell him that Jonathan was awake. Vlad did feel it. His face turned to the living room, every instinct telling him to go there, look there, meet this new child of darkness. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to. One fear set aside (Jonathan living, not dead) replaced by another (not Jonathan but something else entirely). He rose from the table and his feet carried him where he needed to go. In a few short months he had gone from being wary of this young man, to loving him, now to both killing him and reviving him. Perhaps now their hardships were over. Vlad stared unblinking at Jonathan - not his but now more than ever belonging to him. He held out his hand. He had no words yet to say. Disoriented. Like yourself but not. Those words, they rang true, especially as Jonathan sat up - usually when one was coming out of a deep slumber they blinked, they yawned, they stretched muscles that had grown stiff from lack of use. But no, not him. He rose fluidly, unblinking, he reached for Vlad’s hand and curled fingers around his - before, the chill was very prominent (didn’t stop Jonathan from sleeping next to a vampire freezer without clothes on, however) but now he didn’t feel it so much. It was neutralized. Balanced. His fingers climbed higher, up and up, up along Vlad’s arm and to his shoulder, the back of his neck - leaning in to touch foreheads, thumbs returning to his cheekbones to stroke there like he always did, to hold Vlad’s face in his hands. “...a mea,” he murmured, the first utterance spoken between them after the world had shifted on its axis and Jonathan had literally died and come back to life. Mine. It echoed in his ears, seemed to have a pulse of its own. But that’s when he realized the sound was something else entirely. Mine. Mine .... thump.. Thud. Pitter-patter. A heartbeat; it sang so beautifully. And it was here. In the house. Jonathan pulled back slightly, tip of his tongue touching one sleek fang, which seemed to water in craving. It sounded like Jonathan. Absent the heat, it still felt like Jonathan. Vlad's shoulders gave way a bit in relief. His eyes stayed fixated on the man before him, watching as Jonathan experienced it all. And then a smile, a slight turn of lips as he watched the realization hit Jonathan. To some extent, Vlad enjoyed that Jonathan had picked up an action that Vlad himself had settled so easily into. Tongue to fang - it always accompanied thought and contemplation. This wasn't going to be so bad. Vlad was going to enjoy having a kindred spirit. He felt like an outsider with the other vampires in Orange County, ones who clung desperately to an idea of a normal life where Vlad had embraced what he was. Perhaps Jonathan would agree with him. And the sleeping dragon seemed appeased, too. The bitterness at a life alone had gone. For once, Vlad felt perfectly at ease with everything. "Come," he beckoned, hand taking Jonathan's. He twined their fingers together and walked them to the guest room (Felix taking over the master bedroom). There, the stranger was stirring out of his fog. In his state, he would be no match for another human, much less two of the undead. Vlad saw the fear in the man's eyes as the pieces began to fall into place. He gave Jonathan a nudge forward, releasing his hand, giving him quiet permission to let instincts take over. Those instincts surged forward - it was like an auto collision, instincts warring with some semblance of restraint. One half telling Jonathan that was a person who wasn’t going to make it through the night, who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time - maybe he had a family, maybe he was secretly running a brothel, maybe he went to work everyday hating his life and hating the monotony of 9-5 ‘trapped in a cubicle’ drudgery. Jonathan had no idea, only knew that the man was scared, but the other half didn’t particularly care to pay those little details any mind, not when it wasn’t anything personal - just needs being satisfied. It was that portion of Jonathan that stared at the man with beastly eyes, glittering like garnets - hungry, predatory, wanting. Eventually the green would return but when the dragon within was clawing at him, needing to be fed, hellfire surged through him and shone out through the irises and surrounding areas. The skittering pulse, the melody of it, was too tempting. He knew it wouldn’t be the only time he gave in to the temptation either. In a blink he had taken the man, pulling him close in a subtle thud that was human flesh meeting something cold, something undead. Jaws snapped over the victim’s throat, because he wanted to taste that heartbeat, feel it crumple in his teeth - the blood was enough to nearly make him delirious, flowing over his tongue with the taste of something so impossibly sweet. He made a sound then, a long-forgotten lullaby that vibrated from his throat in a hum, holding the man so delicately, so carefully while Jonathan was caught in this unthinking haze, letting everything wash over him. Until the man stopped feebly struggling, stopped trying to fight, stopped breathing, stopped everything. Jonathan’s teeth were stained, lips too a bit, but then he let go of the dead weight, feeling satisfied. For now. He looked at Vlad (red light of triumph in his eyes, a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of), then in another blink was in front of him - with a crimson-stained mouth, he kissed the person he still loved most in this world, holding onto him. “I...thank you.” For having something here to sustain him. Or else, literally, he might have gone out and slaughtered who knew what. Admittedly, Vlad was surprised at how quickly Jonathan gave in. And proud. Mostly surprised. Then again, when Vlad had felt the cravings, Jonathan was there to try and ease him away from them. If he had such a blatant go ahead, he would have been the same. The kiss was sweet and teasing. Vlad's own demons were grumpy - tastes of blood, here and there, and then watching someone else drink it down. He smiled into the kiss, tangling his fingers into Jonathan's hair. "I have promised to make it as easy as I can." Vlad pressed a kiss to Jonathan's forehead. "Is it like you had anticipated it being?" “A little, but it’s mostly...” Jonathan took a breath, something to center himself even if it wasn’t required. He nuzzled at Vlad, another motion that helped - it always helped, whenever his own train of thought seemingly went off the rails (and it had been doing that quite a bit, recently). “It’s a lot. Overwhelming.” Because he had just killed someone. My god. He didn’t even like killing demons or spiders, and he’d taken a life. Some random stranger - knowing that didn’t make it any easier, however. Even if he tried to think of it logically - he couldn’t deny himself, couldn’t suppress the instinct to the point where if someone ever got a papercut around him, he’d be lost in a complete frenzy. He wanted to learn to control himself, to take the reins on that inner beast eventually. The haze had cleared, he’d found his way out of that cavern that sucked you in when it was all about drinking, and drinking more, and it wasn’t like he enjoyed knowing that the man was dead. Though, yes, there was that. “Do we...what do we do?” Meaning with the body in the house. Vlad looked past Jonathan, unfazed by the body slumped in the room. His shoulders gave a vague shrug. “We do whatever it is you desire you to.” It was as simple as that. They could always bring it to Hannibal, but Vlad was wary of exposing Jonathan quite so readily to that (even if Jonathan knew it happened). The best thing was probably to take the body somewhere and leave it. Random deaths in Orange County were not abnormal. Random deaths due to vampire wound were also fairly normal, so no one would think too hard about it. Vlad looked at Jonathan with a raised eyebrow. “Or you may leave it to me and I will take care of it for you.” “No, it’s alright.” Jonathan’s hands squeezed Vlad’s, tightly, like an anchor. He was the anchor, tethering him to the moment. “I’ll...bring it somewhere,” he said. Wrap it up, dump it into the ocean, in a ditch, toss it into the bushes in a coyote-infested area; there were a variety of methods, and Vlad didn’t have to be responsible for cleaning up Jonathan’s messes. Likely, the death would be written off as some kind of animal attack anyway - wounds like that, vampire-afflicted, generally were. This was why they needed to move into a new place. Because he was about to use the guest bedding to wrap up a dead body like a burrito. Their lives were so odd. “It’s going to take me a bit to get used to everything,” he chuckled dryly. “I didn’t have much practice, in the dreams...before I was staked.” Vlad moved to help Jonathan. Jonathan may have been set on doing things himself, but Vlad wouldn’t so easily relinquish all control. Not yet. But he did stop and frown. “Staked?” His brow furrowed. A dream, yes, and not one that Vlad had seen, but he felt irritated by it all the same. His protective (possessive?) side flared. Who would dare to harm this beautiful creature of his? He scoffed, an annoyed snort, helping Jonathan bundle the bedding together. “I will not let you muddle through things. I will guide you, and you will find your instincts will do most of the work. It is hardest, I think, to grow used to hearing everything and to your strength. But you have already learned to begin to filter out sound.” And no one would be staking Jonathan in the waking world. Not on Vlad’s watch. They would dispose of the unfortunate victim together - together like always, and for Jonathan there was comfort in that. He trusted Vlad more than pretty much anyone, and why wouldn’t he? They’d seen each other at their very worst (a couple times, thanks to certain OC metaphysics and annoying magical brouhaha) and here they were. “Well, I’m glad I have such a legend for a gui--” Right, that strength thing. Because when he hoisted the body up, prepared to put some muscle into it because hefting dead weight (an adult male at that) usually wasn’t so easy, he ended up flinging it across the room like it was a child’s toy, and nearly broke a window. Hellfire. “Oops,” Jonathan winced. Carefully, this time. He picked it up carefully. “Smelling everything too. And not being awake during the day. When the trial comes around I’m going to have to find a makeup artist to not make me look dead on TV.” Despite it all, Vlad very nearly laughed. Nearly. The amusement was evident on his face, and he looked fondly exasperated while Jonathan retrieved the body. “Your nocturnal pattern will be the easiest. It will force you into it and you will simply follow.” He slipped out of the room, seeking out the car keys. They would probably have to go for a bit of a drive, away from nosy neighbours. The mist was already rising outside. No one would be able to see that two men in the dark house hauling a large, odd thing into the back seat. “And you do not look so bad,” he added. “Though I wonder now how you will manage to do anything with your ridiculous hair now that you cannot see it.” Into the backseat the dead body went and Jonathan still couldn’t really believe this was happening but he would shelve the questioning and internal moral debates for later - once they had taken care of business. He tried to think of that oddly-shaped lump as a chore rather than a person, couldn’t think of it as a person right now, it would be a strong sense of guilt hammering away at his brain over and over again. “Ridiculous hair. That’s why I have you, to help groom me,” he snorted a laugh, in the passenger seat (pushed back to accommodate for freakish height), and he tapped the windowpane gently. “If another crossbow bolt comes through this thing, I’m eating them.” Lightning wouldn’t strike in the same place twice, hopefully. But you never could tell around here. Unlike Jonathan, Vlad didn't seem to care that they were hauling away a body to dispose of. It wasn't something he would come to feel guilty about. He just drove the car, and would keep driving until Jonathan said to stop. "Then let us hope, if it happens, you get to them first." Vlad glanced at his companion. "I would not be so kind." “Something to hope for, at least,” Jonathan managed a fangy smile, reaching over to rest a hand on Vlad while he drove, upper thigh, just to maintain the contact. Having had a taste of blood, from the vein, fresh from a struggling victim - he didn’t think he could cop out and switch to sticking a straw into a bag and slurping up the life force. Already, he didn’t understand how some did that - but he also didn’t think he could go out, look at someone, deem them a meal, and then strike. It wasn’t meticulous enough for someone like Jonathan. Those close to him (or even those who had talked to him for at least five minutes) knew what a meticulous person he was. And at least that way, he could pick and choose. Pick people that no one would really miss. Terrible people. And maybe that wasn’t his place to judge, but it would keep him tethered to some sense of right and wrong. A little. He didn’t want to lose that entirely, during what was sure to be an inner struggle. He knew the right spot where the tide would wash the corpse out to sea, and that was where he had Vlad stop. Nearby, to toss the body into the ocean where it would sink to its watery grave. Missing. Just like any other person on the news who had seemingly vanished. Then back in the car, appetite suppressed for now, beast within satiated for the time being. But he was very new at this, and young - he’d be hungry again soon enough. “Do you ever think about getting married?” he asked Vlad, conversationally, a lazy squint of bright green eyes watching him on the way back. “Or would it be...silly, by now?” For the most part, Vlad let Jonathan handle this himself. He waited by the car, watching, feeling the slightest bit of guilt that he brought Jonathan to perform such actions. It passed quickly. Back in the car, Vlad was in no hurry to return home. The night was young. "I think it is something we all think about." Vlad shrugged. His hand rested on top of Jonathan's. "I have never put much time into such thoughts. In Romania, it is not possible for me to marry most that I may like to. I am not so concerned. There are people who like to have the ceremony and the documents. I do not think that is all so important. A certificate does not change the love between two people." He paused, turning his head to meet Jonathan's squint. "But you are a romantic. You would like those things, yes?" “I don’t know how romantic I am. I just quasi-proposed after we dumped a body into the ocean,” Jonathan smirked; for some reason, he found that amusing. He was probably spending too much time with Will, and his macabre sense of humor. “But seriously? Yes. I probably would like those things. Someday.” He squeezed Vlad’s hand. It was difficult to get married in the States too, since a good portion of them were severely trapped in the dark ages. But they could...work out the logistics. Eventually. “At least there’s time to consider it.” Oh, they had plenty of time. An endless stretch of it, on and on, careening through the hourglass and then some - it didn’t seem so bad, when you didn’t have to face the prospect of forever by yourself. Rings would tarnish and become lost, paper would fade and crumble over time. Vlad was certain that Jonathan would do all he could to preserve them, take them along wherever they found themselves in their eternal lives. It was one of the many endearing qualities of Jonathan that Vlad loved so much. He raised Jonathan's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to smooth, cool skin. "For what it is worth, my answer would be yes. Even if this is only a very partial proposal." But, yes, there was time. "First let us look at a house. One thing at a time." It was definitely a partial proposal. More like an errant thought, a point of discussion, testing the waters? However, Jonathan was pleased to know that it wasn’t an entirely ridiculous idea. He couldn’t help it, sometimes he was a bit old-fashioned. A bit sentimental (perhaps a lot sentimental - it was ingrained into those Victorian ideals of romance and the poeticism of love letters, a smooth transfer from one life to the next). “I’ll make sure to ask again later and have it count all the way and not partially,” he laughed a little. “But alright. One thing at a time.” There would be many steps taken together, and there was no rush. He supposed that was also the beauty of this life, this existence. When your blood was eternal. |