agoodyarn | Vampire AU : The Worst / Best Decision He's Ever Made

Vampire AU : The Worst / Best Decision He's Ever Made

Vampires are immune to every illness, can heal from any injury, withstand almost any damage... other than ennui. The vampire who calls himself only 'John', whose terrible power rolls before him and sets others of his kind trembling...

Is absolutely no different in this regard.

He is ancient and terrible and he has a great court within the city that bores him to tears. Which is why he'd snuck out from their compound and gone, of all things, bar-hopping. Thus meeting Arthur and his partner.

It had been simple enough to get his partner out of the way; a call to one of his court had the man bundled up and carted off, a snack for later. The lack of a companion had made luring Arthur to the back entrance, the one with the alleyway, the one he could enjoy a meal in peace in, even easier than it might have been.

...and then he'd tasted the man's life. Tasted the depths of sorrows in him, the death that surrounded him, the strange shining light, dim and flickering but unwilling to go out, that was the shape of his soul.

Which was why, feeling almost possessed, he'd found himself ripping his arm open and pressing the bloody wound to Arthur's pale lips.

And now, here he was, his new fledgeling in his bed, waiting for him to awaken, his partner beside him on the bed, bound and prepared for his new childe to feed and finish the process.

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Arthur's eyes flick back up when he hears the voice again, no longer in his fucking head, but the look that settles on his face isn't adoration or supplication. It's fury, cold and sick and loathing.

"You're... a monster." His foot slides back. "Either a monster or- or just- j-just fucking insane."

Two steps, he's just in the archway now, and he can see the hallway in the corner of his eyes.

"A-and I'm not going to wait for you to- to kill me too."

And then he bolts, rushing down the hall to try and find an exit. He doesn't even know what floor he might be on, if any stairs would take him higher out or deeper in, but he can't stay here not with that-- that thing.

And when he starts to run, that's when John loses his patience. He stays right where he is... but as Arthur runs down the hallway, his vision suddenly blacks out, leaving him in an endless void of black.

The growling from the back of his brain turns into words.

I have been more than patient with you, childe. Now if you want your fucking sight back, you will stop running and sit the fuck down.

He'll hear the footsteps start then as John is coming to collect his troublesome fledgling.

"Jesus Christ--?!"

Why can't he-- he can't fucking see, what the fuck was going on?!

He doesn't stop running, shockingly, the sudden change sets off an animalistic panic instead and now he's being chased and he needs to leave--

He slams full tilt into a wall, feels his outstretched hand punch through canvas and he yelps in pain, but manages to stay upright, turns his head to try and hear something, anything.

...the footsteps, they echo, he can hear- there's space to his left, he must be at a junction, or a corner, and he staggers in that direction, keeping one hand on the wall and the other in front of him, trying to find-- a door, stairs, something that put distance between him and John.

The steps continue, carrying easily on the stone floors. Despite the unhurried pace, they always seem to be the same distance away.

Too close.

I am older than this country, Arthur, older than the country of your birth. I was old when your 'Christ' was hung up on his tree.

And you are trying my patience. I am not your enemy, Arthur. I have given you a gift others would kill for, have killed for, and this is how you repay me?

"Get out of my head!"

It's a panicked roar that cracks in his throat, but he doesn't stop - not until his foot misses a step that he couldn't see - "Fuck--!" and he flails wildly, just barely managing to grab a banister before he crashes head-first down the stairs.

But- stairs, going down, and he rushes down, at a speed that would break his neck if he missed even one. And at the bottom he does, the final step coming faster than he expects and he does land flat on his face, on something cool. Not stone, too smooth - tile, maybe or marble - but the damp tap of his bare feet doesn't stop, he just scrambles to his feet. He must be in a foyer, stairs are always to the sides in a house that can only be grand, so if he runs at an angle--

He slams into the front doors, and starts groping for a handle.

The front door is not something to play with, not now, not when exiting this house would be death. That's why Arthur will feel himself tossed away from the door with a beastial snarl.

"Fool! You would run from me straight to your death, you fucking idiot. For a fledgling of your age, even moments of daylight would destroy you. Now sit the fuck down and listen to me, you fucking child."

No "e" that time.

Edited 2022-10-30 01:53 (UTC)

There's no words when he's yanked back, just an inarticulate yelp of fear that cuts off when he hits the ground rolling, completely disorienting him, and he pushes himself to his hands and knees.

God, he can feel his eyes moving, but there's nothing - just the same empty blackness, not even the wash of static he expects when he screws his eyes shut.

"What--" his voice cracks, and he swallows thickly to try again. "W-what did you do to me-- why, me, I-I didn't ask for-- I-I-I never wanted this...!"

The growl slowly peters out as he hears the clank and shift of the front door being more heavily secured. No real wonder, really. When he speaks, he sounds calm again. Or calmer.

"If you promise to behave, to come with me and talk, I will give you back your eyes. I will answer your questions. I promise."

I don't enjoy punishing you, Arthur. But I can't let you continue such foolishness unchecked.

Fuck. Fuck, there goes his exit.

Christ he hates this. This-- this man, this thing, can read his mind and deprive him of his senses, treats him like a petulant child for not wanting to behave, and the word sends a hideous chill down his spine. He has no qualms about hurting him, or punishing him, and right now he's not in a position to test how far whatever lingering goodwill might extend, seeing as he's already turned him incandescent once, and he calmed down far too quickly for Arthur to feel safe.

"...fine. I'll... I'll talk." He pushes himself to his feet, but without his sight he feels unmoored in the black, and his hands stretch out automatically, trying to find something to ground him, steady him. He has no idea what this room even looks like, and that's... horrifying.

As he stands, as he offers to follow, he'll find his sight returning to him and he'll see the golden-eyed man drawing his hand back from Arthur. He looks much happier than he'd sounded a moment ago.

The room around him is a giant foyer, with the same eclectic sense of style as the rest. There's paintings and armor and weapons along with a few modern conveniences. The door he secured is a massive double door of heavy wood.

There are no windows.

He gestures for Arthur to follow him to what appears to be a sitting room just beyond this one.

"We got off on the wrong foot. But that isn't what I want at all. I do consider myself your friend, Arthur. I hope you come to consider me the same way once you understand how things stand."

Arthur hates this monster with every fiber of his being.

But he follows, for now. He needs to study him, learn as much as he can before he can make another escape attempt.

Or kill him. If it comes to that.

"Sure." He makes no pretence of being assuaged. "Forgive me if the feeling isn't mutual just yet. I can't say I'm particularly fond of kidnappers. O-or murderers. Or-- whatever the hell it is you've done to me." He kept saying vampire like it was supposed to mean something.

He knows what one is, obviously. But they're not real.

Edited 2022-10-30 02:55 (UTC)

He doesn't say anything until they're in the sitting room, which has quite a lot of seats as a matter of fact, and the same eclectic design. This room is a little better put together, clearly for hosting, and he'll wait until Arthur is inside before he closes the double doors towards the front behind him. Then he saunters towards a singular high-backed chair to sit. He spreads a hand to gesture to the rest of the room to say that he can sit where he likes.

"I didn't murder you, despite my original intent to do so." His tone definitely indicates that Arthur should consider this a gift itself. "Instead, I changed you, gave you eternal life. The real thing. Not the bullshit offered by the religion of men."

That is a sneer at the very idea. His expression softens, but only a little as he lifts his chin to Arthur.

"You are my childe, blood of my blood. That gives me power over you at this stage. Hence clouding your vision with my shadows. I thought that any sane man would at least slow down."

Edited 2022-10-30 03:11 (UTC)

Rather pointedly, Arthur takes the seat that is furthest away from his 'sire', and sits perched on the edge like he's ready to flee. His eyes still dart around constantly, looking for anything he can conceivably use.

"And what reason have you given me to listen to you, to- to believe that any of this is real, o-or in my own best interest to stay?" His gaze flicks back to the man - John, he remembers - and looks thoroughly unimpressed. "You're- you're dangling information over my head like a fucking carrot, and then get mad when I don't play along. You're an arrogant- reprehensible bastard, you delight in explaining to me how I--I-"

How Parker had been killed. But no, it- it can't be his fault. Not if this monster changed him.

His voice turns deathly low, a threat. "I would never. Kill. Parker. And I will never forgive you for forcing that on my conscience."

He breathes in deep, clearly reigning in his temper. He wants to yell. That is clear enough. He's trying to maintain his composure.

"I didn't force you. If you'd like to see for yourself, I can show it to you."

He reaches up and mimes biting his wrist in offer.

"As for 'dangling', Arthur. If you hadn't attacked to start, and then nearly run to your death like a fucking idiot, you'd have more information."

A little more mustered grace-

"What would you like to know? And what would you consider... 'proof'?"

If only to get past that.

John reins his temper in. Arthur... his eyes linger on the offered wrist, and some part of that- that pervasive hunger that's been sitting low in his stomach sings with want.

So, Arthur shouts. To drown it out.

"I wouldn't have run to my death if you showed even an ounce of basic respect for the fucking nightmare I am going through right now!" The force of his anger propels him upright, gesturing viciously at John. "And right now I don't give a shit about whatever mind games you're pulling, what- w-whatever bullshit you think you have hanging over my head! You cannot keep me here, a-and I don't care what you think you can punish me with!!"

And guess who's storming for the door again.

Edited 2022-10-30 04:01 (UTC)

He'll both see and feel a dark shadow dart past him, and when he gets to the door, it will be to John, standing in the way, gold eyes blazing.

"Fine. You want proof? You want to see why I won't let you out? If I show you, will you sit the fuck down and stop reacting like a goddamn child?"

Edited 2022-10-30 04:19 (UTC)

He feels it more than sees it, the sudden sensation on his peripheral, that stops him short before he crashes into John who is suddenly right in front of him, and he lurches back in alarm. "Jesus Christ--"

Those eyes-- there's no denying it now, even to himself. He remembers them, glowing with that strange inner light, entrancing him and making his legs move without conscious command, but it hadn't worried him, all he'd had to do was obey the voice behind them, let it take him outside and press him against the wall...

He's shaking, and he curls his hands into fists to hide it. "Fine. Prove it. Prove why I need you," he growls. Tipping his head up in challenge.

There's another growl before he points to the side, to a spot where Arthur won't be in danger of the light touching him. Then, and only then, will he start unlocking the door.

And he'll actually open it, most of his body hidden behind the massive doors for safety, even if he knows Arthur might try to run.

Hopefully not after this.

When just a thin slice of sunlight slides through the gap, he reaches his hand out and into the light.

And Arthur can see how his skin immediately reddens and then starts to blacken and smoke, the flesh cooking away down to the bone before John, teeth grit, shoves the door shut. He pants from the pain of it, growling and shaking a little as he holds it up for Arthur to see that it was no joke and no game.

So that he can see the flesh start to reform around the bone right in front of him before, less than a minute later, the arm that had been burned to cinders was restored to pale skin.

It's only then that John turns to face Arthur, frustrated that he had to do that but satisfied that his point is fucking made. His voice is slow. And irritated.

"There are things you need to know. So go back in there, sit down, and fucking listen."

He'll move where he's pointed, obedient in that, at least. It's not far from the door, actually, maybe he could make it before John gets the chance to stop him, if he wedges his hand in the door he'll be short a few fingers but he won't--

"Jesus fucking--!!" His hands clap over his mouth at the sight of John's hand burning down to the bone like a wax candle "--fuck!--" a log in a bonfire caught in the moment before structural collapse as the fire eats its heart.

And then...

Then it grows back. And Arthur feels like he's going to vomit, unable to take his eyes away as John's flesh and skin grow back over the charred necrosis. "O-oh, my God, oh-- God..."

When John commands him again... this time, Arthur listens. What can he say - that was a persuasive argument. But he still sits on the same couch, as far from John's throne as he can, curling over a little as he wraps his arms around his chest and stares at the rug on the floor (Kashan, he thinks, he recognises some of the pattern-work). Trying to process all of that.

It says something, perhaps something actually persuasive, that he doesn't sit in the throne. He takes a seat near Arthur, flopping into his seat with obvious fatigue. Not from healing his arm: from Arthur. He rubs at the bridge of his nose.

"Let's start again. Without you threatening me. And I will do my best not to... 'dangle'."

He turns his hand.

"What do you need to know first?"

Arthur stays silent for a minute, as he continues processing.

Eventually, he unwraps his arms from his chest - in doing so in the first place, he'd suddenly been made unsettlingly aware of his heartbeat. Or more specifically, his lack thereof. And how he hadn't breathed since he sat down, and had no compulsion to.

But he still takes a deep one so he can sigh heavily.

"Why me?" It comes out plaintive, and his mouth tightens in self-admonishment. "There must have been a thousand more interesting people, more-- fuck, I don't know, tasty? Is that a thing I get to say about myself? Wh-- why me?"

He watches, sees the realizations start to filter in now that he isn't flying around like a madman. It makes him feel a bit satisfied, but he won't dwell. The question he's asked-

"You were the one I wanted," he says simply. "I wasn't planning on making a fledgeling that night. I haven't indulged in that fancy for centuries. But you... called to me."

I promise you, Arthur. I don't have another answer beyond that. I drank from you and I wanted nothing more than to make you my own.

"Don't-" He cringes sharply, as another shiver ripples unpleasantly down his spine. "Don't do that, th-the talking- in my head."

It's unsettling, in a way he can't quite pin but utterly despises. Too... intimate.

"How do we... i-is there a way to. To fix me? I-I don't-- I. Didn't. Want this," he repeats, trying to keep his voice steady. "Therefore, it's your- your obligation, to--"

"My obligation as your master is to teach you and care for you as you transition to your new life," he says as Arthur stammers his way through nonsense fantasies. He doesn't want to make him react again but he won't placate him with falsehoods.

"There is no way back now," he says matter-of-factly, "not that you even know what this new life is. I gave you a gift, Arthur. Have you even considered exploring it?"

He glares back at John, cold and filthy. "You," he growls, "are not my master. And this is so no gift - y-you are a monster, you--" He stands and walks away, but he stays in the room this time. He just needs to get it out, physically. "--all you've done is spread your curse to me. You could have just killed me- I do not belong to you, or anyone fucking else!"

Vampire AU : The Worst / Best Decision He's Ever Made

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