Christian Ozera (lordozera) wrote in zombieslogs, @ 2013-02-16 16:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !a haunting, christian ozera |
Who: Christian and his parents
What: Seeing his parents in all their ghosty glory (Narrative)
When: nowish
Where: the prison
Warnings: Language and possible fiery destruction.
Christian felt them before they appeared in front of them. Tall, dark, pale, eyes still ringed in red, and frozen in time. They'd been in pieces and then the bodies taken care of by Alchemists when he was a child. That day frozen in his own memory. The way they'd fought the army of Dhampir Guardians that had come to kill them. How they'd fought his aunt and tried to convince Tasha and Christian that their destiny was at their side. They were going to give them a new life. One beyond their comprehension. They would be the elite of the elite.
"Don't be scared," his mother had urged while he watched his father rip a piece of his aunt's face away because she wouldn't give him his son. The brother she had idolized. Her hero. She was trying to protect his only son, and Lucas Ozera hadn't wanted that. He had wanted his son and his sister at his side along with his wife. They would be a new sort of Royal. They would be more powerful than Court could even imagine.
They'd been in pieces, eyes dead, heads removed from bodies, the last time he'd seen them. It was just a glimpse, through his aunt's fingers as she tried to cover his eyes as she sobbed and he screamed. "Mommy. Daddy. Don't. Don't hurt them. Don't."
Now he was saying the word again. "Don't." It wasn't to save them. They were past saving. He was saying it to make them go away. Because Christian Ozera had buried his parents, physically at least, when he was still just a little boy. The memory was always there, etched deep in his mind, sometimes of who they were before, sometimes of who they became, and when he allowed himself, sometimes who they could have been.
Standing side by side, they were still a striking pair. Ozeras took haughty royal good looking to an entirely different level than some families. They truly believed they were the best of their breed. Even when they changed the species they were. Lucas was tall and slender, his jet black hair and pale blue eyes the mirror image of his son. Or was it that his son was the mirror image of his father? There were traces of his mother's delicate beauty there too. A darker shade of blue eyes with a hint of green in them. Hair as dark as her husband and son's. She gave the illusion of looking fragile, when the reality was she was so deadly. A force to be reckoned with.
"A prison, Christian?" The admonishment in his father's tone rang through the cold air outside the prison yard. He'd walked quickly from his cell, hands stuffed firmly in his pockets because he didn't trust his control over his magic, as they followed him out. "You are above this."
He wanted to laugh. Instead he kept walking, eyes straight ahead, hoping if he ignored them they would leave. Ghosts were everywhere. He'd seen Victor Dashkov and tried to lunge at him only to hit a wall. The bruise on his face looked like someone had taken a swing at him. Wonderful. He'd seen a glimpse of Tatiana Ivashkov and wanted to throw up. Another reminder of the damage his family could do. They didn't even have to be Strigoi to inflict it.
"Hiding away with commoners, denying your birthright, and the best you could do is a prison?" His father shook his head. Chistian's hands shook with rage.
"Lucas, enough," Moira chastised softly. As softly as a Strigoi could be. Even now, even as ghosts of the demons they became, they were in sync. One moved, the other moved. They could speak volumes to each other with simply a gaze. It made his heart twist. He'd loved that about them as a child. Now he...he wasn't sure what he felt. "Sweetheart, you can't continue to ignore us. We know you have questions."
He closed his eyes and balled his hands into tight fists. Licking at his chapped lips he tried to get a grip. Ignore them and they will go away. It was when she reached out to touch him, to brush a strand of his dark hair from his face, only to go right through him that he suddenly unleashed his fury. A tree on the other side of the gate went up in flames. The snow and rain would take care of it before a wildfire could take over. "Questions?" His tone was bitter and resentful. It still wasn't as horrifying as the young tone he took when he looked at them both and asked in barely a whisper with his words cracking in pain, "Why would you leave me? Why would you choose this over our family? How could it be worth it?"
Why wasn't I enough? It was there, at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to ask it. Christian Ozera wasn't great at doing vulnerable. He damn sure wasn't great at doing weak or needy. Yet they were here. They were here and he couldn't touch them. Couldn't shake them. Damn sure couldn't fix them. They were just here, but not here, an illusion of the cruelest sort.
"We never left you," Moira said sharply. Her hard features were sharp and angry. His mother had once been soft and comforting. For a moment he thought he saw his Moroi mother, but like all of this, it was an illusion. She was Strigoi. Even now.
Lucas folded his arms across his chest and sized up his boy. His heir. The legacy he had so many plans for. "You know why. It's there inside you. What you don't tell the others. That you know you were meant to come with us that night. That you blame the Guardians, not us, for the destruction of our family." He tilted his head, watching as his son flinched and looked away. "You miss us, and you know you have never felt comfortable being what you are now. You were meant for better things than some Dragomir's lapdog. Some pity party she took in because she thinks she can save you."
He was cruel. Unforgiving in his assessment. "You want to take greatness from that Dhampir girl who was given a gift, and for what? It will not bring Natasha back."
"DO NOT SAY HER FUCKING NAME." The flames in his hands grew large, needing a target to be thrown at. His father merely arched an eyebrow. It wasn't like the fire could harm them.
"How long before she becomes like us? Or maybe she already is. Do you think a real prison with locked cells would keep my little sister in?" He smirked at that.
"Christian, Baby, you don't have to be the outsider. This new world, it's your chance for greatness. To continue on the legacy your father and I wanted for you." She looked sad as she attempted to reach out to him again only to go right through him.
The snow began to fall harder and he tried to push them away. To make them leave. "It's within your grasp, Christian. You can take hold of your destiny at any time. Any number of these...meals would be suffice." Lucas glanced at the prison, indicating exactly what he thought of those inside. "You could help that Strigoi girl to greatness. Together, the world could be yours."
"You want me to become Strigoi and take up with a former dhampir?" This time it was Christian's tone that was haughty and mocking. "I thought that would be beneath an Ozera, Father?"
Lucas frowned, as he studied his boy once more. "She would make a suitable minion."
Now he laughed. Christian couldn't help it. "No one makes a Belikov a minion and I have a life here. In this prison. With my girlfriend and my friends."
"You'll never be truly accepted. Those who know who you truly are, they are simply waiting for the day you show your true colors. We know the day is going to come, and we will be so proud of you," Moira smiled at her son. It was not the warm smile he'd seen when he was a toddler and would run to her to show off his accomplishments. It was the cruel smile of a Strigoi.
"Did you ever regret this? If you'd known how it would end, would you still have done this?" He was desperate now. He needed to know. Could they have been saved?
Lucas merely looked at him as if he was a little boy who didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Someone who was not quite his equal. Someone who probably never be. "We would have ensured your Aunt and you were secured so you could join us at the proper time. The Guardians wouldn't have destroyed our family."
That answer was like being hit in the gut. He couldn't find his words. Christian Ozera, the boy who never knew when to shut up was suddenly speechless.
"Do you really think Vasilisa's parents are giving their blessing to her dalliance with you? Do you think you will still be able to call Ivashkov a friend once he's reminded of how his aunt was killed? The Guardians are only there out of obligation. Christian, you will never be accepted among them. You are meant for so much more. You're going to have to see it with your own eyes I'm afraid." His mother looked like she was sad about this, but resolved to the fate her son would walk. "You will use that pain to become stronger. You will be what our family was meant to be."
"YOU DESTROYED US. NOT THE FUCKING GUARDIANS. NOT AUNT TASHA. YOU DID THIS. YOU LEFT ME, YOU DROVE HER CRAZY, AND I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU. I WILL NEVER FUCKING BECOME YOU. I WILL DIE FIRST."
Lucas smirked, as he took his wife's hand. "Dying is only the beginning, Christian. At least you have that part right. We'll leave you to your thoughts, but make no mistake, we'll see you soon."
As soon as they faded away he collapsed beneath the closest tree, hiding his head in his hands, and allowed himself to do something he hadn't since he was a scared child watching death come for his parents. The angry tears froze nearly as fast as they attempted to fall, but it made no difference. The young fire user felt cold from the inside out. It was like his parents had managed to diminish his ever burning flame.