formmusebox | for Essek (lacrymaperle)

for Essek (lacrymaperle) - vampire/werewolf au

[There had been a simpler time, several years before when Bren hadn't yet known Trent Ikithon, a time when he was thoroughly and blissfully unaware of the things that existed in the dark, when the ideas of werewolves and vampires and other creatures that ought to have been nothing more than fairy tale fodder. Instead, his paths had crossed with Trent and everything had changed. He'd been thrown into a small walled courtyard one night, under the light of a full moon, and he had not been alone. That was the first time he had met a werewolf. Bren remembered the bite, still had the scar of it on one forearm, remembered the confusion and the terror -- both of which were nothing compared to the full moon that followed the month after, the first time he'd transformed. He remembered the pain of his entire body breaking and reshaping itself, the fear of losing himself entirely. He'd blacked out that night, woken up naked and aching as if he'd been run over by a bus.

It had been the same very moon since, except that piece by piece, bit by bit, he held onto some small shred of himself during the transformation. Trent Ikithon had explained that all this was for Bren's own good, that he was safer here than anywhere else. that there were vampires who would tear him apart on sight, one in particular, a singular monster who Trent seemed to have a personal loathing for. Bren tried to probe why any vampire, never mind a particular one, would have any interest in him. No explanation was ever given except that 'the Shadowhand will never have you. Not in this life or the next. I will see to that.'

Bren had no idea what that meant. Before all this, the only strange thing in his life were recurring dreams -- and oh they were beautiful things. Arms that were secure and safe around him, tender and gentle but not warm. The soft lilt of a voice that assured him everything would be well, that wherever he went he would be found again. Trent had hated the dreams and had done his best to cast them out of Bren's conscious awareness. Now they were barely shadows, things he could remember the feeling of more than the details. It hurt even trying to recall them, so he didn't.

This past moon Bren had made his escape after he transformed, finally aware enough of himself that he had his chance. He was free. That was the only thought in his mind right now and it repeated in echoed mantra over and over again as he tried to keep himself from spiraling into a breakdown. It had been years since he'd been out, actually out in the world, not kept with Trent Ikithon's control, trapped within the grounds of that monster's manor. He was, after all, Trent's pet project, for whatever reasons the old bastard had. It didn't matter. Back in that direction lay only pain and isolation. He wouldn't go back.

Of course, he didn't really have a plan to go forward either, really. Even before he'd been captured and turned, he hadn't had any family left, few friends, and he'd been out of the world for years now. He managed to ~~steal~~ find some clothes, ill-fitting, a coat that was too big on his underfed frame, a scarf wrapped about his neck. He was a mess, long copper hair in tangles past his shoulders, his beard untrimmed, a frantic fear in wide blue eyes as he tried to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to get his bearings. He couldn't let Trent find him again. This was freedom, and he would not give it up.

A soft meow caught his attention, and he looked up in surprise as a small orange tabby approached him. For the first time in a long while, Bren smiled.] Hello there... [The little creature sniffed his outstretched hand and headbutted his fingers. It was the first kind touch that he'd known in so long, he almost teared up over it.] Well, at least I am not alone anymore. That's comforting.

[Now if he could just figure out what the hell he was going to do, where he was going to go.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The Shadowhand had successfully built an Empire within Rosohna. With limitless years before him, why would he not? Oh, he was not not of Den Kryn, the highest of Vampire Houses, but Den Thelyss had finally ceeded to him after a century of working tirelessly. He had accomplished more, it seemed in one century, than most vampires did in five and he had been lauded for it; certainly his sire had been proud of him; proud enough that he had stepped down and allowed the ruling of the Den in Essek's capable hand. He buried himself in work to forget, with a heightened fervor that put the angels to shame.

His empire, part magic and part fashion. Within the interwoven links of Vampires throughout the world, he was known for his cabal brilliance and his knowledge of the arcane; the Shadowhand. Within the human world however he was known for several boutiques that he owned in the various cities of the world. There was Thelyss Designs, every single city had such a place; but then every single city had a unique residence that he owned though his main point of operation had ever been Rosohna.

All of these things kept him occupied, kept his mind from wandering from what he had loved.. and inevitably lost. But also there was a deeper meaning that he kept ties and bindings with each city. It was because if there was even a spark or an inclination of a familiar return into the fold, he wanted to be there. His gaze was intent and unsettling because he was searching for something within gazes, something he'd never found-- a hint of blue, not just any blue but a specific shade, and behind it a mote of possibility; gods he wanted to find it-- and each time was a bitter disappointment. And each year brought that disappointment and bitterness further and deeper inside of him.

It was late one evening and he was out riding, he'd watched as Frumpkin had unwound himself from his shoulders and disappeared in a puff of fey smoke the scent of hearth. Frumpkin had been his only tie to the past and they had a partnership that was.. a mutual mourning. His lover's familiar who'd formed a pact with him, it had been a necessity else the grief kill him. It had been Frumpkin whom had kept him from laying himself out for the sun to kiss him with the same fire that his lover had and he was grateful, however Frumpkin did have a tendancy of disappearing from time to time and thus he was used to it.

The scent of hearth that assaulted his nose meant that Frumpkin had not gone far, and thus he steered his horse in the direction though he for the most part remained silent save for the subtle sound of hoofs against woodland floor. Coupled with hearth was the fragrance of petrichor, the way that rain transformed mud and moss into something alluring. He lightly called out. ]

Frumpkin...

[ It was a calling out that would be heard, and as Bren pet the cat with gloved fingers, the cat would let out a little mrrp of acknowledgement, as if that was indeed his name that he heard in the distance, but he was not in any way shape or form inclined to leave and it was rather clear by the fact that the cat's paw caught the edge of scarf and used that as leverage, a propelling upward until he found purchase against a shoulder. This cat was light as air and smelled of cinnamon cloves and fire, a warm spicy scent-- and he felt warmer than most animals, as if he was made of flames.

The tabby then continued to bunt lightly against a jawline, claiming in a way that only a cat could do so. ]

[Bren was distracted with his new found friend, the first beginnings of a smile starting over his face -- though it felt strange, as if those muscles had been so unused these past few years that they had begun to atrophy. Being out, being free was overwhelming in a way, the world so big without stone walls and locked doors around him. He was somewhere between exhilaration and terror, though stronger than any of those was the determination not to be going back to Trent's clutches. Ever again.

So the sound of a voice sent a jolt of fear through him. The cat climbing up to his shoulder soothed that slightly. It was an oddly familiar feeling, and Bren moved to stand, supporting this strange, warm cat as he did. He forced himself to take a breath. None of Ikithon's people would be out here looking for a cat.]

Frumpkin? Is that you?

[A quiet murmur as if he half expected the feline to answer. He hesitated though. He hesitated though, not sure if he should try to flee or hide from the approaching voice. Now he could hear the sounds of a horse. If he can he could be run down easily.

By the time Essek came into view, he'd find a gaunt, wide-eyed man, looking both hunted and haunted, dark circles that somehow served to make eyes even bright blue than their usual. He was still exhausted from the full moon the night before. No, he couldn't run, and so he froze, eventually managing to find his voice a moment later.]

Is... is this your cat?

[ Essek had his hunting grounds and this was not one of them. He tended to poach in clubs and bars where he could charm those with his beauty, where a simple human would not be missed, and when they returned-- it would be paler but none-the-worse for wear. He had a weakness for redheaded men with blue eyes, though they never were who he was looking for and so he took sustenance and moved on, just a nibble here and there. So the hooves of the steed did not speed up in the slightest, rather effecting a leisurely pace as he moved into the clearing.

And then he saw Frumpkin, that permanent aura glow about him, tail twitching and rubbing up against.. a dirty excuse of a? Essek did not know what to call it. The man looked utterly downtrodden, certainly not worth his time in hunting, hair that was dull against the light of the newly waning moon. And a beard that seen better days.

Essek could not control Frumpkin or the decisions that he made, nor did he want to be the keeper of a cat, not really. They had an acceptable arrangement betwixt them, a live and let live-- and if Frumpkin choose to hang around with-- a hobo? Well that was on Frumpkin. ]

In a manner of speaking, yes-- though are cats ever truly owned?

[ He looked down at the other man and then lightly rested his reigns against his lap where he had chosen to sit side-saddle this evening, it depended on the outfit he was wearing-- and today it was pants tight enough that riding astride would likely not be the best idea, nor very comfortable. ]

You have encroached upon my property, however you may thank Frumpkin for his largesse and mercy.

[ And Frumpkin licked at Bren's ear, as if grooming the man, that ear quickly turned into the edge of a beard and Essek made a very distinct face at that ]

[The tension in Bren's posture didn't change all that much, though the worst edge of it eased slightly when it became clear that this man was clearly not one of Trent's people. There was an air of elegance about him that no one in Trent's employ could even hope to mimic never mind achieve. That voice though, it was liltingly soothing and familiar, like something from a dream, but when Bren tried to remember there was only that conditioned pain and he immediately winced and thought better of it.

Instead he gave the cat what he expected to be a final pet before trying to remove him to set him back towards the man on horseback. Frumpkin however had decided he was not leaving. Not good. He didn't want this man to think that he was stealing his cat. Bren gave a quick, furtive look around at where he was.]

I'm sorry, I did not know. I am... a bit lost. [More than a bit. He had no idea where he was. He was as far as the wolf could go the night before and as far as the human could manage once he'd recovered enough to move on his own two legs once more.]

But then... Danke Herr Frumpkin.

[Hesitantly, he stepped closer to the man on horseback, looking up at him curiously, that lingering fear draped over him like weighted chains, looking for all the world like a frightened creature that would flee at the slightest noise or sudden movement.] Which is the way to the nearest town? I will stop encroaching on your property. And on your cat.

[ This was.. highly regrettable. It seemed that Frumpkin had taken a liking to this man who stood there in a veneer of awkwardness and fear, oh gods-- he could smell the fear as if it was a charnel house 5 days without proper ventilation; in fact it appeared that this man similarly lacked ventilation if the scent could be believed.

Thankfully, Essek did not have to breathe. ]

If you wish to to go home with him Frumpkin, you may.. I am not your keeper.

[ The man stepped closer, the moon passed fleetingly from behind the cloud cover and casting this man in a single ray of light-- and hit those eyes just right, refracted prisms over sea and he paused. For a moment he was uncertain. It had been a century or two, but there was something familiar about him and in the way that the moonlight clung to him as if it loved him.

And thereby Essek was not entirely certain but there was a faint catch in his heart.

He had to known though.

Gracefully and silently he alighted from the horse, the other side. Giving the steed a light pat on the cheek before he stepped forward with measured footsteps. He had to know, and it really spoke to how well he managed to keep composure about him; there was no emotion that passed over his face as he very carefully approached. He did not want to scare this man before he had a chance to look into those eyes, and Frumpkin seemed to be keeping him calm enough. ]

Do you have money or coin? As I recall, the hotels and restaurants there tend to require such things.

Edited 2023-03-08 02:07 (UTC)

Oh, that... no, that would be a bad idea, kitty. I do not have... well.

[There was no home for Frumpkin to go to with him. Bren barely knew what he was doing next, and he would not condemn an animal, especially so cute and clever a cat as Frumpkin. He blinked briefly at the moonlight. As much as the moon ruled his life, and ruined it in many ways, it was also a comforting presence, regular and eternal in its waxing and waning.

He hesitated as this man dismounted, taking a small step back, his hold on the cat tightening as if Frumpkin were a security blanket. Closer now, he could see this stranger's face better, and he was beautiful -- like some fairytale creature stepped into the world and made real, sharp cheekbones and perfectly carved features. And again that flicker of familiarity before it was smothered by the programmed pain that chased it.

The question caught him off guard.] I... no, I do not. But I will manage, I'm sure.

[Why was his hart beating so far? And why did it ache?]

[ Frumpkin was clearly not listening to either of them. The soft comforting rumble of purr against Bren's cheek as well as an imperious gaze directed at Essek whom despite everything, could still scent the utter aroma of the other man. But he was able to get close enough to look into those eyes, and he saw the flicker of something there, something familiar. And suddenly that pain shot through him, deep and tenuous, like a fraying rope as he looked into those eyes and saw Caleb staring back at him from within those depths.

He was silent. Now able to take in the full tableaux that had been offered to him, the threadbare coat, the fraying scarf, a tunic that was mud-splattered. Underneath, he was sure that each rib could be counted like coins in a palm, and the frame was fearful and scared-- a far departure from the past but still this was-- he was. ]

You will come back home with me then and procure yourself a bath and a change of clothing as well as food. If you doubt my intentions, you may keep the cat with you as I can assure you he's unlikely to let you fall to harm. And in the morning once you are rested, you may continue your own journey but--

[ This was the Essek who took infinite charge, this was someone who had built his empire clearly and competently and brooked no arguments. ]

By the looks of it, it is doubtful that you shall make it to the next town without falling over yourself and there are pesky wolves in the area.

[Bren did not know what to make of being looked at this way, at that gaze that seemed to look straight through him. He felt frozen before it, eyes widening as he watched Essek. His fingers moved through Frumpkin's fur, more to comfort himself than anything else. It was almost working. A voice in his head still warned that he should run, flee now. Another impulse said to run straight towards this man, but that was confusing and unsettling.

And for all that he was already thrown off, he was more surprised by that offer.]

No I, couldn't. I am only passing through. I am...

[He went silent and ghostly white at the mention of wolves in the woods. Here was a werewolf who had been groomed to be terrified of the "pack" that he had been sired into.]

Perhaps... perhaps leaving tomorrow in the light is a better idea, ja.

[And a bath and food and clean clothes sounded amazing, like a small piece of heaven held forth and offered to him. He should be suspicious of an offer made so freely, but he was too tired to do it.]

[ Despite that composure, Essek was shook by the soft look in those eyes. Even more unsettling was the fact that this man was frightened of something, it was clear in the way that he seemed to jump at the barest touch of proximity, and the mention of wolves brought a paleness that had nothing to do with anything but real and sincere fear for something. A bitter and vile rage, hot and ugly filled his throat. This was his fire king and that spark? Where was it? Who had stolen it?

He'd kill them, tear out their throats and watch them bleed ribbons out onto the floor. The violence of such a thought filled him with just as much uneasiness as compared to the knowledge that he would do it in a heartbeat and revel within the rain of carnage that was their only just desserts.

Time though had given him self control and restraint and he merely inclined that head in acknowledgement while he started to lead the horse down the path away from Bren. Only obvious that he would continue the ride back to his manor on foot-- they were heading toward his villa just outside Rexxentrum, and mentally he realized that it was fate; the right place at the right time. ]

It is not a far walk and I am sure Frumpkin will be a kind host to you. You look like you have been through much and will further be improved upon bath and some food.

[ it was rather clear that Frumpkin was not leaving those arms, and perhaps he would've called him a filthy traitor however, Frumpkin knew more than even he gave him credit for ]

Nevertheless, I will find suitable clothes for you to wear and then we can burn the ones you are wearing now.

[ clean clothes meant scentless clothing which would make Bren more difficult to hunt, that too could be a boon ]

Edited 2023-03-08 03:41 (UTC)

[Bren found himself following this man, this beautiful stranger who had found him in the dark and made promises of safety and warmth and food. He'd read fairytales -- he'd read countless books -- and should know better than to trust fair-faced creatures in the nighttime woods and promises of gifts without payment. There was always some price to pay for anything, wasn't there?

Yet here he was regardless, in step beside the stranger and his horse. He cradled the cat close, focusing on the soothing sound of that purr les his anxiety get the better of him. This man, whoever he was, was not Trent Ikithon, and that made him the safer option by far.]

It has been a while since I have eaten. [Not since before the full moon. He'd been too busy running for his life.

When Essek commented on his clothes, he couldn't help a quiet laugh, looking down at himself.]

No? You do not like them? I suppose it leaves something to be desired. But it was better than wandering nude. That is frowned upon in polite society.

[ He was lost in thought, his mind whirling over how Frumpkin had known; of course he had known and his fingers clenched in the leading reigns. He could've kissed Frumpkin at this moment, but composure was his strong suit, it had come after so many years. Two hundred years ago, he'd had a temper and had barely managed to restrain it; time had at the very least given him that.

He was not the same person, sadly.

But that did not matter, not the feeling that was within his heart for the soul, like a bright flame though dimmed within those eyes. He held his head up and glanced over at Frumpkin who was purring in those arms as if he'd come home, or rather as if Caleb had. A stab of longing that only evidenced it in the the tightening of his jaw.

Food could be obtained, while Essek did not feed on such things-- many of his retainers did. It would be a simple matter to obtain something from the kitchens to have sent to Bren within his rooms. ]

There is not very much that I do like. [ Essek said this flippantly as he led them both down the path which adopted a very clear path after a fashion. Everything was eerily silent however thankfully the sound of howling did not penetrate this sanctuary, he had installed wards to protect against whatever Trent Ikithon had going on though he knew that Trent regularly sent people to test those wards with depressingly stupid regularity.

Finally through the clearly into green lawn and before them arose a mansion rising within the darkness, some parts dark but others alit with lights. A circular driveway that led to the stables on the outskirts which is the route that he took. The house held stories and spires, there was something timeless about it, of course there was-- this had been his and Caleb's home, though within the centuries, changes had been made, things had been updated.

Now instead of a carriage, there was parked a zemnian-made sportscar in a sleek purple which was probably worth a couple thousand platinum, at the very least. ]

Once I have my mount taken care of, we shall get you situated in a room for the night. [ Approaching the stables, one of the stable hands came out and effortlessly took the reigns with a very precise bow. ] I think that a food, bath and clothes, in that approximate order.

[Bren held the cat close, a feline security blanket that he was not ready to relinquish, certainly not if Frumpkin was willing to stay with him. Something about him was surprisingly comforting, again that flicker of familiarity.

The same that he felt when he looked to the stranger who was so generously taking him in. Bren's mind may not remember -- had specifically been conditioned away from remembering -- but unbeknownst to the redhead, his soul did. His heart and soul remembered all too clearly, and it was enough that he could feel the worst of his fear ebbing as they walked on. For tonight at least he'd be safe from Trent's wolves, safe from being taken back to that terrible place. But it felt even safer than that, and he wasn't sure what to make of that feeling.

He was puzzling over that thought right up until the house came into view. Except no, this wasn't a house. He'd seen houses, lived in houses. This was just shy of a palace, a sprawling mansion that stopped Bren straight in his tracks. This estate looked perfectly suited to the elegant drow who'd been out on horseback in the evening woods.

Hesitating, he looked to Essek.]

This is your home?

[A glance down at himself and the general state of... well, everything about him. No, he did not belong in a place like this at all, did he?] Perhaps the bath first.

Do not be ridiculous--

[ Essek flickered a glance at the hollow cheeks of the redhead, how they made him appear gaunt and worn out, like a wraith. It did not take x-ray vision to understand that underneath the shirt that was meant to be fitted, clearly was hanging on him and if one pressed the fabric against ribs, he would see them enumerated clearly as if they were a beacon for malnutrition.

He was angry but he did not show it, rather cast the other man a indolent aside. ]

You do not look like you have had a proper meal in weeks, a tray can easily be sent up to your rooms.

[ He talked to the cat then, his eyes on the cat with those eyes that were quite serious even though it was a bit ridiculous to boot. ]

Frumpkin, bunt your head against this man's cheek if he needs a bath, bite his wrist if he should be fed first.

[ Ahaha, as if the cat should even be able to make that distinction, except the cat glanced over at Bren with those illuminated eyes, then leaned in, gave a single lick to wrist before he bit it.. though not firmly enough to hurt but rather just enough to get an attention. After that came the bunting of the head against the cheek. Frumpkin had easily decided the fate of this man.]

Well then, Frumpkin has decided it-- come on.. [ A single beat them ] Your name?

Edited 2023-03-08 23:38 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject