Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Underworld, everything you recognise belong to Len Wiseman, Danny McBride and Sony.
This is an idea I've had in my head for months, and then SVT 1 sent Interview with the Vampire, and I realised somebody had already done it. But not with these characters, and it's olny the idea I'm "borrowing", so I guess that it's not really copying, is it? If it is, my sincerest apologies to Anne Rice.
Confessions of a Lycan
London, not very long ago
"That's a beautiful moon tonight, don't you think?" the werewolf by the window asked, his back turned to the human girl sitting at the table.
"Yeah, I guess," the girl replied.
"It'll be full next week" the werewolf went on, still staring out at the moon above the rooftops.
"And then you'll turn into a large hairy monster and hunt and eat humans all night?" the girl guessed, turning her gaze from the computer in front of her to the werewolf. From behind, he looked perfectly human to her. She hadn't seen his face clearly in the dark street below, but from what she had been able to tell, it hadn't looked very extraordinary. According to her, he looked like any other man she had met, there was nothing exceptional with him, at least not from what she could judge by his looks. But then, she thought, appearances can be deceiving.
"No, I will not," the werewolf replied. "Once, I would have been forced to, by the eternal pull of the moon, but now, I've lived long enough to be able to resist it."
"Oh, really?" the girl asked. "And how long is that?"
"Why don't you have a guess?" the werewolf said, turning around to face her. The girl by the table looked curiously at him, trying to judge his age. He had green-grey eyes, dark hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. If it wasn't for his eyes, which were all-seeing and full of knowledge and experience, she would have guessed at twenty-five. But then, those eyes…
"You don't look much older than thirty, maybe thirty-five," she said, a little hesitantly. The werewolf smiled a little.
"Would you believe me, if I told you I'm almost 1300 years old?"
"Of course not," the girl said.
"Then what's the point of telling you the story of my life, if you can't even believe me when I tell you something not too difficult to believe?"
"Well, excuse me, if I doubt your age, but it's simply not possible to be that old."
"Possible?" the werewolf asked.
"Yes, possible, or in this case, impossible."
"Really, is that truly impossible?"
"Yes, you can't be that old," the girl stated, a look of stubborn determination on her face.
"What do you know of what's impossible, you're not even grown-up yet. You're just a human girl, who knows nothing of life. But if you don't' believe me, it's up to you. But then, there's no point of you hearing my story," the werewolf said. The girl almost thought she could hear a trace of disappointment in his voice. She shook her head, didn't know what to believe. But then, what the heck, why could she just not accept it for now, she could wonder about his, and her own, state of mind later.
"All right, I believe you, for now" the girl said.
"Very well. Then I suppose I should begin with my story. And please, don't hesitate if there's anything you don't understand. I take it that English is not your native language?"
"How could you know?" the girl said, surprised.
"There's the slightest hint of an accent when you speak, but I suppose an ordinary human wouldn't hear it. And then, you smell differently than the English people."
"You have a good sense of smell?" the girl asked, smiling a little.
"Better than both dogs and wolves" the werewolf said.
"Oh really? How about your sense of hearing? According to some tales, werewolves are supposed to have an excellent hearing," the girl said, looking straight at him.
"I can hear your heart beat from across this room" the werewolf answered, still a small smile on his face. The girl nodded slowly.
"So, I take it we start at the beginning?" the werewolf said, his smile slowly fading.
"Yes, that would probably be the easiest way. So, who are you?" the girl said, turning away from him to adjust some settings on her PowerBook G4.
"I was the leader of the lycan pack," the werewolf said, also turning around to gaze out on the city below him.
"Lichen?" the girl asked, frowning a little. To her knowledge, lichen was growing on old trees in mountains of her own country. The werewolf chuckled.
"Yes, lycan," he said, spelling it out to her. "It's another word for werewolf, the one we ourselves prefer. It's from lycanthropy. You know what that is, don't you?" The girl nodded again, again turning around to face him. This guy really believed he was a werewolf, or a lycan, as he called it.
"Just to make things a little easier, could you please tell me your name?" the girl asked, a little hesitantly.
"Very well, as you wish," the lycan said, turning around, and gazing at her with those grey eyes, those eyes which had made her want to interview him in the first place. They spoke of almost inhuman sadness. And then he went on speaking.
"My name is Lucian. I was born in slavery to vampires, was almost killed for loving a vampire lady, ran away, started a war, was supposedly killed in 1409, but were instead in league with a vampire, laid low for six centuries, and then this vampire actually tried to kill me, I almost died again, but lived on. And here I am, former lycan master, supposedly dead twice, and my name is still Lucian."
"Would you mind telling me that again, a little slower, and with the slightest amount of details?" the girl asked.
"I would not mind that at all," Lucian said, beginning again, to tell her the true, painful story of his life.
To be continued…
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