Weee another CDF Fanfic!
OBVIOUSLY this is written pre-Darren Shan. I got a review before saying how I 'infered that Arra was older than Larten.' Well...explainin' my reasoning; Arra is much better at fighting than Larten and while re-reading the fifth and fourth books I've kind of made mental notes that Arra seems more comfortable in her skin than Larten. Now...is that a result because she has lived in Vampire Mountain for so long? Or what? I dunno, but it's just the way I do stoof.
This isn't really LartenxArra-ish. It's really...hmm...more of a 'what the hell is wrong with me' thing from Arra's pov. So for those fans of Arra (like me) here you go. She's fifty four in this, Larten probably like twenty three or something.
This has NOTHING to do with Paradise. Nothing at all. :3
Disclaimer: I do not own Seba Nile, Arra Sails, or Larten Crepsley. Sooorrryyyy :3 Darren Shan does.
Well...enjoy Bars!
Arra fell from the bars with a sickening thud, only to bare her teeth up at her defeater and snarl viciously at him. "Best two out of three," she demanded as she jumped back on, not trying to regain her balance, raising her stick high above her head. But she judged her momentum incorrectly; she nearly toppled off the bars again. She placed both her feet out in front of her precariously, and forced herself to steady on the tiny wooden planks.
The vampire laughed cruelly. "Sure, but you won't best me," he warned jeeringly. "How can a newcomer half-vampire best me?"
Arra's grip on the staff tightened, the skin on her knuckles pulling almost threateningly against her bones, making her fingers look paler than normal. "I am not a half-vampire," she growled. The vampire's face lifted into a sneer as he bowed mockingly to her. Arra bowed back, and struck him first.
She brought her staff up to his head in a feint, but quickly pulled out of the whack to the head and jabbed him in the neck. He stumbled backwards, sneer forgotten, and scowled back at her as Arra let herself grow rather cocky. No, don't, she warned herself carefully. He'll use that to his advantage.
Jumping over a blow to the ankles, she batted at his knees before raising her staff at lightening speed up to his head. She brought it down with a force that made the impact ricochet from the stick and to her arms lightly, and used his moment of surprise for her advantage—she brought her stick down carefully and pushed the tip inward where the leg and the knee met. She hit the muscle she was hoping for, and the vampire toppled off the bars, paralyzed slightly.
Now it was Arra's turn to stare smugly at him and for him to glare back up at her. He swung himself back on, already in fighting stance. He raced towards her, petite bowing forgotten, and tried to strike her.
Arra blocked the blows as easily as if she were blocking punches from a human, or even a half-vampire. She found a weak spot of defense around his stomach and stuck the tip of her staff where his belly button would be positioned. He nearly doubled over, but his hard vampric pride held and he stopped himself from giving in. But the pain was clear on his face and Arra just had to make a snide joke about it.
"Aw, did I hurt you?" she asked him, mocking concern. His anger vibes pulsed through Arra's veins, making her almost step back. He wasn't just angry; he was livid. Well, she thought rather cruelly, I'll just make him even more livid now, won't I? It's what he gets for calling me a half-vampire!
The vampire went for her head, but Arra blocked it rather lazily. He was taking time, now, trying to find a weak area in her defenses, but both of the vampires knew that he wouldn't find one; Arra was, after all, was one of the strongest vampires in Vampire Mountain. She was by far the strongest General. She had not asked one of the Princes for a challenge quite yet, for fear of what they would do to her if she asked. But she planned to ask when she gathered the courage.
Arra threw many lunges at his ankles, letting him think she was going to blow with such ferocity and force to knock him off that way, but in truth she had a much more painful way to show him that no one called her a damn half-vampire.
When she felt the time was right, she smirked at him and threw her staff into his neck. She heard the snap as his neck was pushed sideways, causing his balance to be thrown off track and having him topple over the side of the bars.
He landed on the damp earth with the same sickly crash as both times. The vampires that were watching clapped for Arra and jeered at the unfortunate vampire who had been cocky enough to think he could actually defeat Arra…and get away with calling her such a sincere insult.
She got off the bars and spit at his feet. "Arrogant jerk," she spat and glared at his weak gaze.
Arra, in fact, was not a half-vampire; she hadn't been for at least twenty five years. Not that that meant very much by vampire times, but even as a half-vampire she had been rather feared by her vampire brethren. She had beaten her Master after only four tries, and had beaten most of the Generals by the time her official blooding had rolled around. It might have been that her mentor was the games master Vanez Blade, but no one was entirely sure. From what Vanez said, he had seen her blow some rather nasty kicks at people who dared interfere with him back when they were traveling to Vampire Mountain. She was a danger to society even back then, the vampires constantly joked.
I'm fifty four years old and everyone treats me as if I'm a child, she growled in her head. Even as a General people told her she was young. But how could a young vampire handle the trials, she always counter fought. There was no way that was possible; they'd either get eaten alive by the boars or roasted in the fire.
As she was stalking away from the Games Hall (the vampires were in a raucous uproar for practice because of the upcoming Festival), she saw him again; the new comer. Not that new comers were necessarily rare, but for some reason this particular one stuck out like a soar thumb.
He stared, rather wistfully, at the red cloak that was billowing away from him—obviously his Master, Seba Nile. Of course his master's Seba, she realized with a small laugh; even as a half-vampire (the stage where they are at their most rebellious and…horrid), he was trying to dress like Seba. He was donned in a red cloak that was eerily similar to Seba's, and his nose looked rather red, obviously from some cruel but hilarious discipline idea. She wondered what on earth Seba was doing with his nose, but didn't ask the new one.
Their eyes met. The terrified eyes of a half-vampire who was new to the world of Vampire Mountain training on the hard glint of a vampire who had spent fifty years in the place. The kid, as Arra was now going to refer to him as—she didn't know his name and half-vampire seemed almost too pitiful for him—was not afraid of her. That surprised Arra slightly, but she decided that she wouldn't worry about making him worried. What was the point? He was obviously overwhelmed by the happenings of Vampire Mountain. His vampric ego did not need a blow from Arra Sails.
Seba came back, his stanza full of purpose. Arra didn't necessarily want to talk, but knew it rude if she didn't. After all, she had shaken his hand before, which meant that she was nearly obliged to show him respect. Sighing, she didn't run away as Seba spotted her and smiled.
"Ah, Arra Sails!" he boomed. "I see you have met Larten Crepsley, my assistant?" he asked kindly, gesturing to the weary kid. Larten Crepsley, eh? Arra asked herself. I haven't even heard his name and we were all introduced to him a week ago when he arrived. How interesting.
"Yes, I have," Arra said smoothly, almost crisply. "He looks quite the spitting image of you, doesn't he?" she mocked. But, rather than Seba get the blow from it, it made Larten wince, which made Arra almost feel sorry for the new lad.
Seba brushed off the remark that was meant for him. "Yes, he does," he chuckled playfully. "But how is that any different than your mad quest to beat Vanez all those years ago?" Seba mocked right back.
Arra forced a laugh. "I guess you're right." She met Larten's eyes again. He wasn't scared, now that his Master was around, and in his relaxed stance Arra could see he could be no older than twenty five. A normal age for blooding, she thought approvingly. But, of course, Seba knew what he was doing when he blooded him. Vampires didn't just randomly blood people.
Seba smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Larten's shoulder. "He's a bit shaky," he told her sadly. "I just blooded him six months ago; we were that close to Vampire Mountain. But he's still a little nervous about…drinking blood. He drinks, but he doesn't enjoy it."
Arra grimaced. "Oh." She looked at Seba sympathetically as Larten's face grew rather red with embarrassment. He brought his face down slightly, his orange hair vivid against the bleak outcrop of rock.
"Well," Arra managed after a few intense moments. For some odd reason, she was very interested in this…new comer. She wanted to know why he had captured her attention when he hadn't even fought her on the bars yet. It was rather disconcerting, to be honest. "I have better get going. I did not eat breakfast or lunch."
Nodding at her, Seba began to usher Larten away. "Good day, Arra," he said as he held out his hand. Arra shook it briefly and exchanged her recognition of respect. "Good day," she repeated weakly as the two walked off.
After a few moments, Arra began to realize why Larten had surprised her. He was so polite. Normal half-vampires who were hesitant about blood drinking would have defended themselves immediately by saying 'but it's so barbaric' or something along those lines. But Larten…Larten was calm, if not embarrassed. It made Arra think that it was a possibility he was going to crack to his blood drinking soon.
She shook her head and sighed as she headed to Kheldon Lurt. She took her seat at the far edge of the table and stirred her bat broth rather slowly, looking at the bread lazily. Dipping the bread into the broth, she slowly chewed on it as well as her sudden—was feelings a good word?—for the random half-vampire.
It's not as if I think highly of him, she defended herself from herself. But it seems that I have some sort of interest to him. Why can't I place my finger on my feelings for him? She flinched as she thought this. It made her feel as if she had…emotions for him.
Shuddering at the thought, she put her bowl where the cleaners would pick it up and walked to her 'room.' She was tired, and the new one was making her feel rather queasy—a feeling she hadn't felt for over fifty years.
Why am I thinking about him? she nearly hollered at herself. She was getting more and more confused at her obvious interest in him. It was almost as if she wanted to respect the half-vampire; and she had never shaken a half-vampire's hand before. In fact, only a select few vampires could proudly say they had shaken hands with the feared Arra Sails.
Climbing into her coffin carefully, she stared up at the rocky ceiling and automatically thought of his orange hair vivid against it. Snarling at herself, she turned over, trying to hide the vision of his face from herself. But there was no use; his face kept popping up in her memories, almost as if an inner voice was begging her to think of him.
I'll just challenge him to the bars and shake his hand once he becomes strong enough to last a second on them, she decided rather hastily. Maybe then my mind will be put to rest about this random Larten Crepsley.