TwinsOfABlackRose
It was like blood. The warmness and texture as it dripped down his cheek. He closed his eyes before opening again. Something wasn't quite right, it smelt like blood as well...eyes closed again and he took a deep breath before sitting up looking from side to side. His eyes were red in the reflection of the blood on the side of his face. His suit was stained red and there was a throbbing feeling in his chest. This wasn't right, the world was his how could this happen?
He coughed and watched the blood spill onto his clean (or at least once clean) sheets in horror..."No!" He shouted throwing the sheets off of his bed cradling his head gently; he stared up at the window. The image of a small child stood there and it pointed at him.
"You killed me..."
"I never regret it," the man replied running his fingers through his sticky hair.
"I'm no illusion."
"I'll kill you again."
"Look at your head?" The child laughed, "That blood isn't going to stop any time soon, so say your good byes while you still can."
His eyes flicked back and forth between the walls, his hands and the child that disappeared of the balcony.
The man stood from his bed going out the door down to a room and knocked on the door gently, "Luck..." he whispered and the door opened.
A brunette man stared back at the other, looked him up and down then spoke, "God Vino what have you done?" He asked letting him in.
"It was the kid," he said sitting down, "he's after me and he's gonna get me..."
"You seem afraid," Luck leant against his desk staring back down at Vino, "is there a reason?"
Vino looked up at him. Fear? He had never felt that before...well...wait...once before...long ago...
"I'm not afraid," his words were firm and spoke only the truth, "in fact I am quite excited."
Vino looked scary when the blood was on his face and he grinned like that, but Luck felt a twitch of sadness. That was Vino's blood and unlike himself Vino was no immortal.

LOKIforDREAMS

Luck found his adoptive brother at the kitchen table the next morning. The red head was stirring what must have been his eighth pot of coffee from the amount of used coffee filters in the trash can. Either Claire was trying to drink himself to death, or he'd been up all night. Or at least since Luck had bandaged his wounds and sent him back to bed.
"Are you alright, Claire?"
Claire looked up from the once white mug at his brother. Having almost died a few hours ago didn't faze him quite as much as seeing Luck in the doorway (again) looking like he'd seen a ghost. Claire gave his little brother a smile and lied, "Yeah just fine. I slept on the couch, but that kid din't come back."
"The couch?"
"Come on, Luck. You din't expect me to sleep in my own blood, didja? That's just bad taste."
Luck mentally slapped himself, how could he have forgotten? Because these days, he half expected the blood to go back to its owner. It disturbed him, having to break out the old first aid kit, the one he only kept around for appearances, to use on Claire. Hell, Luck didn't remember the last time he'd seen the red head get injured. Wait, wasn't it? That one day, so long ago . . .
Taking a seat across from him, Luck said, "You should have mentioned it. You know there's always space in my room. You don't need to sleep on the couch." Claire shrugged and went back to staring into his coffee cup. He wasn't going to admit to Luck that he'd been awake since that kid had decided to try and stick a knife into him. The adrenaline rush had subsided hours ago without any killing to keep it up, so he'd resorted to coffee. He didn't want to sleep after being reminded of . . . . that.
His brother was talking again. "I'll have the landlady get some new sheets. And I'll send someone out to track that kid down and take care of him." Claire found himself looking up, unaware that he had that look in his eye. That one, murderous and insane glint that made his brown eyes look red as blood. "No need. I'll take care of him myself, Luck. As many times as I need to."

TwinsOfABlackRose

Luck sat down at the table wondering where Berga and Keith had gone off to, he didn't want to have to deal with Claire when he came back, oh wait he wanted to be called Vino now. Luck shook his head flipping the newspaper out starting to read an article, he wasn't going to change the way he called his brother. His name was Claire and that was final, his name was Claire when he was adopted and he would be Claire when he died. To Luck and the other Gandor brother's at least.
He closed the newspaper looking at the staircase, Claire had gone up for a shower but he was taking much too long for his likings. Luck closed the paper and started to walk up the stairs cupping his hand over his mouth, "Claire?" He took another few steps; the staircase was creaky as ever, "Claire are you okay?" He knocked on the bathroom door worried before waiting for an answer.
"What?" Claire opened the door as he was buttoning his trench coat up; there was scabbing starting on the side of his head.
"Let me bandage ya up," Luck said starting to walk down the stairs again, "also I looked into help for you..."
Claire cut him off, that murderous intent shining in his eyes again, "And din't I say I'd do it by myself?"
"You'll have to," he said, "everyone is friends with tha kid."
"Tch," Claire stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat strutting down the stair case, his eyes showing weariness from not sleeping.
He stopped when he reached the kitchen looking for something to eat, "You need to go shopping!" He called out before grabbing a loaf of bread carving the knife through violently.
"Claire!" Luck grabbed the knife before it cut into the fine oak that had cost their family quite a bit to get a hold of, "Save that for when you find tha kid."
Claire took the bread wrapping it up in the sports section of the newspaper before shoving it into his pocket, "I'm gonna go for a walk," he said opening the door, "don't follow me."

It was winter and the snow covered the footpath and ice on the roads, he walked with his head glaring out in front, the stride of his legs bold and brave. He hadn't let his brother wrap a bandage around his head but his hair did well to hide the scab.
He stood at the train station watching the conductors and trains come and leave the station, as he did he carefully reached into his pocket eating the bread slowly watching the people he recognized from trips of past and those who refused to go on a train because of the incident. Once he had finished eating he threw the newspaper into a bin and started to walk again.
He walked to the other side of town to a church; he walked through the stone archway into the graveyard. The snow piled high over ones whose family members were dead or didn't care and others were clean and had flowers. Claire made his way to the back where there was a small mound of snow, he bent down wiping the snow off with his gloved hand and slowly a tiny grave stone became visible. He wiped the rest of the snow away from it and a bit around the edges.
Claire placed his hand firmly on the stone, "Heya Tony," he said in the most cheerful voice he could muster, "Sorry I haven't been here for so long, things been happenin' you know?"
Tony's body was found in a pretty bad state and Claire paid for a grave but at the time he didn't have much money on him, and he knew Tony wouldn't want something big. He had no family; just like Claire. Maybe that's why he felt such a strong connection to the old man.
"This is gonna sound stupid but some kid is after me," he smiled, "I'm not the innocent 'young conductor' you thought I was, I should have told you earlier that I was the Rail Tracer...too late now, I guess that'd be my one regret."
He stood up bravely wiping the excess snow off his glove, "Anyway I've got to find some information about the kid, where he's staying," he paused, "I guess I could go to that darned Nicholas..." he turned around to see a young family go to a grave and cry. As he walked out from the graveyard he noticed the inscription of the grave, or at least part of it. 'A victim of the Flying Pussyfoot incident...'
"Tch," and with that he left the grave yard going down to the Daily Days. He was going to regret this.

The daily days was an odd place. It looked like a newspaper from the outside but once inside you could ask information about anyone given the right price. Although he'd have to be careful, under their desks they kept guns. And even though Claire had none he still worried. This trip would mean they'd have information about him, information he was sure other families would love to know.
Nicholas Wayne was blonde and looked like a cheery person; always happy to serve and give the wanted information.
"Have a nice day!" Was the first thing Claire heard before stepping in.
Nicholas's face fell and a look of horror took over as he collapsed to the floor, "I need some information," he said knowing if they gave him nothing all he'd have to do was find that Rachel girl again.
"Nicholas what's wrong with you," one of the men whispered as Nicholas tried to compose himself.
"I can pay information about myself for the information you can give me about a child named Czeslaw Meyer," he stared down, "except he is no child. He is an immortal."