Well it's that time of year again..
Let the fun begin I suppose. You're lucky :P You get this early n.n
Disclaimer: I own nothing
"Hush now, child…"
He fidgeted, anxiously peeking around his mother's skirt, restless in the brilliant moonlight. His mother's hand lay on his shoulder, the other slowly running fingers through his hair, delicate and fine actions, it always calmed him…
"Now, mother?" he asked, looking up at her, trying to keep his voice low like he had been taught.
"No, not yet…"
The sound of clinking armor, the footsteps of the sentry on his hourly patrol through the darkened streets, making his rounds through the sleeping city. The dark stone cobbles of the path were stained with the rain from earlier that night, making it damp, the water shimmering in the pale light, like oil, dark and slick…
"Never rush into it, darling…be patient…" she whispered softly, her voice barely a whisper as her soft fingers ran through his auburn locks.
He fidgeted again, sniffing. Sweat and flesh, breath, the pulsing of a heart beneath bone…
"Always let it come to you, always let it make the effort for your sake," she said, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "Never waste your energy when you're more than capable of making the dumb beasts capture themselves..."
It was an adult, a male, it was getting closer…
"Now," his mother whispered, giving him a small push to his back.
He stumbled into the alley, falling ungracefully into a puddle, making an audible splash. The boy sniffed and began to cry, wiping his eyes with his dampened sleeve. The footsteps stopped, as the guard had just walked at the alley's entrance, stopping and looking toward the sound.
"What-…what are you doing out here, little one?" he asked, approaching him over the wet stone, the water dripping from his feet when he stepped, sliding back into the puddles, rippling the light across their surface.
An older man, one that probably had a few children the boy's age, one that would have compassion for a frightened child…
"There there, little one…" he leaned down, scanning the boy for injuries. "Are you all right?"
He reached out his hand to move the child's arm, to scan him for any sort of wounds. There was gentleness, compassion, kindness…
Weakness.
The young boy lunged, ripping out the man's throat with his teeth. Blood gushed from the wound, the man gurgling as his eyes widened in one final expression of shock and pain, the life flicking from the orbs in seconds. He dug his fingers into the top of the armor plating, ripping it off with ease, clawing apart the sentry's chest and ripping out his heart, stuffing it greedily into his mouth, chomping down like a ravenous dog, bits of artery and soft tissues sticking out between his teeth.
"There…there we go," his mother said softly, sliding her feet gracefully across the ground. "Now what did we learn from this, my son?"
The boy looked up from his meal, blood staining his face and clothes. He tilted his head a moment, licking his lips, then grinned up at her.
"You can always make food come to you," he recited proudly.
"Yes," she smiled, her eyes glinting as they began to glow a dull red.
"I did good, Mother?" The boy bounced, dashing over to her and wrapping his arms around her skirt in a tight hug, his stained fingers soaking red into her white gown.
"Yes, my darling little Kratos," she cooed, kneeling down and running her fingers softly through his hair. "You did very well."
He beamed up at her, grinning from ear to ear. He did well, mother was happy; he was a good, smart boy, just like mother wanted.
"I'm a good prince, huh, Maetala?"
"Yes, Kratos." She smiled, stroking his cheek with a smirk.
"You're a very good prince."
He woke up shrieking, his eyes squeezed shut tightly, the sound tearing up inside of his throat, as if it could cut him from the inside. The burn- the burn! The pain! The horrible, burning, unceasing pain! His hands gripped tightly into his hair, shaking his head violently, shrieking at the top of his lungs, the burn in his canines searing, unrelenting, unrelenting- and the dryness- He was shriveling! Drying out! About to break down into dust-
His hand gripped the drawer and he nearly ripped it out, the entire drawer flying out and he snatched the bottle inside it out, slamming the empty shelf onto the floor before ripping off the top. He forced it to his mouth, gulping it down desperately, voraciously, trying to strain every last drop of its contents from the glass.
Once it was dry he slammed his fist down, sitting upright, shaking, gripping the glass neck so tightly it began to crack under his fingertips. He panted, staring unseeing onto his lap, his shaking hands, the red stains from the bottle on his sheets. He could feel it, the heart pounding in his chest, the pulse of its essence through his veins, his body, overriding him…
He had underestimated it…underestimated how much it would affect him…he was losing control…
His eyes jolted up to the door, smelling the arrival before they entered. The door slid open with a mechanical whoosh, an angelic drone floating in.
"Lord Kratos, Lord Yggdrasill is not pleased with your tardiness-"
He didn't think, didn't bother, and he had hurled the glass bottle across the room, slamming the angel in the face, the glass shattering, slicing up the flesh. The angel did not react, as it did not feel its pain, but he could care less what it felt. Soulless or not, the blood seeping from its face was just as warm as any humans.
In an instant he crossed the distance, ripping off its wing and slamming it into the wall, ignoring its monotone protests as he dug his teeth into its chest, ripping it open and devouring without thought anything warm that touched his lips.
And that was how Yuan found him a few minutes later, sitting amongst a litter of broken, hollowed out bones, shredded fabric and blood-stained feathers.
The two men simply looked at each other a minute, Kratos looking up from his place on the floor, the red fluid dripping from his chin. Neither said a word for a long moment, the silence seemingly eternal until Yuan spoke.
"Full?"
Kratos responded with a lick of his lips, getting to his feet and turning from his companion, walking over to his dressed.
"What do you want, Yuan?" He asked, wiping his chin with his sleeve as he began to dig for a fresh set of clothing.
"Did you enjoy your meal?" Yuan asked casually, tilting his head a bit.
"Could have used some more iron in his diet," Kratos responded with a grunt, dismissive.
"Well given that they don't eat that's to be expected."
"Hmph."
"You're losing control aren't you," Yuan said flatly, more a statement then a question.
Kratos stopped, frowning, looking down at the clothing in the drawer, ignoring the stains on his hands.
"…I can't run away from this, can I, Yuan?" He spoke quietly. "I can't run away from this anymore than you can run away from being a half-elf."
"Yeah well, difference is being a half-elf doesn't mean I go around eating people," Yuan said, nudging a bone casually with his foot.
"I haven't killed anyone," Kratos snapped, whipping his head around and resisting the hiss building in his throat. "The angels might as well be dead as it is."
"Yes, guess so. Guess that doesn't matter to you, hm? Just so long as it has a pulse and all…"
"What do you want?" Kratos growled, his lip curling up in a snarl.
"Yggdrasill's a bit irritated you're so late."
"Mithos can wait a bit," he snapped, turning back to his dresser. "It won't kill that brat to be a little patient."
"Well that's what I'd like to think but given that he's…"
"A maniacal, psychotic little prick?" Kratos supplied with a low hiss, feeling his irises begin to burn.
"Well yes, that," Yuan agreed with a dismissive shrug.
Kratos growled, turning from the half-elf.
"I'll be there shortly," he snapped. "Now get out."
"Should I have someone clean this up or would you just eat them too?"
Kratos ignored him, walking into the adjoining restroom to change into a clean garb. Yuan sighed, scanning the room, the shattered bottle and the angel's remains. This couldn't go on; the Seraph's friend had ceased being anything remotely human years ago as it was. From an angel to a demon was a rather unforeseen twist- to happen again- but...
Yuan frowned, seeing the demolished bed stand, the clawed fabric and the marks of his nails on the wall… No, he knew better. The Vampire King was just that, and no matter what they or any of them did there was no stopping it…
He was the King of Hell and it would rein him in if he refused to reign it himself.
Kratos dressed himself quickly, trying to ignore the pulse of the heart in his body. The irritation, the pent up aggression- rage, against Mithos had cracked into his system the second Yuan had entered, and with every beat of his heart that rage only seemed to magnify itself.
He left quickly, striding for the room with his eyes locked solely on the path before him. He had to; he had to focus on something, anything, to distract himself, to keep in control…
So it was he slipped into the room, feeling the eyes on him, feeling his heart pounding. It was…'his' heart now, after all…just like the only heart Lloyd had left was the one that he himself had been born with, thousands of years ago.
"Where have you been?" Yggdrasill snapped in his usual, irritating manner. "You-"
Kratos' eyes narrowed, and the rest of the words his 'boss' said began to blur together. Why was he going along with this? Why was he taking orders from this – this obnoxious little brat? Why? Because he was stronger- …no, no he wasn't. Granted he had the sword, and he had light mana, so yes he was probably stronger but…but he couldn't kill him, right? No, he couldn't, all for the sake of that precious little seal. So then…
"Kratos! Are you listening to me-?"
He had had just about enough of this.
"Shut up."
Silence fell like a slap of cold water against ones face, leaving all those present both stunned and chilled. Yuan stared, his body tensed, and Yggdrasill…didn't take it well.
"You- H- how dare you-!"
"No, Mithos," Kratos hissed, his eyes beginning to bleed red. "The question is how dare YOU?"
In an instant the former angel crossed the distance, grabbing the effeminate half-elf by the collar. Mithos' eyes widened and choked when the hell-beast slammed him back against his own throne.
"You have the nerve to order me around when you know full well what I am?" Kratos hissed, not taking his eyes off the wide green-irises. "You've known for years, and you still didn't bother to think otherwise, still didn't bother to give me the respect you know full well I deserve."
"Kratos- Kratos calm down-"
Kratos smirked, a deep chuckle shaking through his body. His fingertips dug into the half-elf's flesh, drawing thin lines of blood.
"See? You treat me properly now that it's your neck on the line…quite literally."
He smirked, flashing his teeth as he felt the burn searing in his eyes. The heart- his heart, pulsed in his chest, as if giving him its approval for his actions. Then, why shouldn't he derive pleasure for this?
"You took everything from me," Kratos hissed, his smirk vanishing.
"Kratos-"
"I gave up my own race, and in return you stole my wife from me, and here you are expecting me to let you take away my child as well!"
His eyes flashed dangerously and he let out a screech, slamming Yggdrasill back against the throne again, the stone cracking a bit.
"I've had it- I've had enough of you!"
What he would have done right then he wasn't sure, but he didn't have much time to act at any rate. He sensed it, the smell, the movements behind him as the angelic drones went to secure him. Kratos snarled and dodged fluidly away from their oncoming attacks, Yggdrasill clutching his wounded neck, healing it quickly.
"G- Get him!" the Cruxian barked.
He was outnumbered.
That didn't matter.
The growl worked its way up through his throat and split through his mouth as a screech. In a blur the spiky-haired male shifted into large, obsidian scaled 'bat', slamming down the hooked claws on its wings on the approaching angels. He heard Yggdrasill panicking, noticed Yuan slipping away, but none of it mattered. He was in a bad mood, and he need to take it out- no, not need, want. He WANTED to kill them, so he would, because he wanted to. Why shouldn't he do what he wanted? What he pleased? There was no reason.
So enjoy himself he did.
His clawed feet would crush them underfoot; his jaws would snap them in half, tasting their blood, the myriad of fluids. The splintering sound of bones cracking in his maw, the feel of his claws slicing through flesh like butter, the smell, the glorious pounding of his pulse. Let them try to stop him, he didn't care, he didn't mind, he could eat his fill and more if they were so foolish as to obey their master, which of course they were…
Then the sting of light, angelic spells, piercing his side. He shrieked, tail thrashing, eyes sweeping the group for the attacker.
Of course…light magic, he'd nearly forgotten. Hm, it wouldn't be wise to stick around here much longer then anyway…
His massive wings spread and he slammed through them.
There was no point in staying here any longer at any rate…he was getting bored without screams.
The sun beat down on him and his winced, straining his eyes against the light. The desert heat radiated against him, making him sweat profusely. He was in the middle of nowhere, the burn of the sun, the dry, choppy, suffocating air…
Dammit where was that canteen? He fumbled for it, panting as he viewed the closed flask. He nearly sighed in relief, twisting the cap to remove it-
It wouldn't come off.
He flinched, and then growled in frustration, pulling at it again. Still the cap would not move, the sloshing of the water inside taunting him, drying out his mouth even more with every second he heard it.
"Dammit!" he cursed, pulling at it desperately.
He was going to die of thirst out here! There was water, precious water right inside this thing, right in his grasp and he couldn't get at it! His hands twisted, pulled, grabbed at it. No matter what he did it would not open and he panicked, growing more and more desperate, pulling it, tearing at it, and eventually found himself gnawing on the canteen like some rabid animal. He bit at it and finally he felt it, the liquid hitting his teeth, seeping into his mouth. With a sigh of relief and a shudder he quickly slurped, gulping-
The canteen screamed.
…Wait…what? The canteen- canteens don't…scream…
His eyes snapped open, seeing the wall of golden hair in the darkness, feeling his hands on shoulders, his teeth in a neck-
Oh goddess, not again!
He pulled away from her, scrambling back, panting as he felt the blood drip from his fangs. Colette jerked upright, hand on her neck, staring at him with wide eyes. Lloyd slammed a hand over his mouth and tore through his pack, finding the flask of Shrine Blood. He quickly swallowed a mouthful; shaking, staring at his pale hand as color slowly seeped into it.
"I- Colette- " He turned, feeling that his teeth were dull again.
She said nothing, bandaging the wound in silence. Lloyd shook, watching her, then scanned the others. No one was awake-
"Again?"
He stiffened, looking up as Raine approached, her eyes narrowed with concern and frustration.
"I- I didn't mean-"
"I know you didn't mean to, Lloyd, but this can't go on. This time you actually bit her. Who knows how much longer until you mature and change her? Lloyd …this isn't working."
Lloyd stared up at her, paling, his hand shaking as it clutched the flask. Not…not working? But-
His father flashed in his mind, the hand on his cheek, his red eyes.
I won't let you be alone.
No- NO! This had to- this had to work- but…but…
He shook, looking over at Colette, whom Raine was now healing. The girl looked at their teacher and then at him, forcing a weak smile for him.
…He still wanted her. Since that night…since…since the day he was 'crowned' and tasted her blood for the first time, since the day he claimed her as his, as his future queen, as his bride…
Lloyd choked and wrenched his gaze from her, shaking, trying to get control of his breathing. She was right and he knew it. He was going to end up turning her, and he knew if he did- when he did- he wouldn't be able to… Even if he tried he wouldn't be able to save her. Kratos- he would come and he would take him away, her too, if he had changed her…
He didn't have much time to think of this, however, as in the next second a stone-bat dropped from the sky, bearing down on Lloyd. His eyes made contact and he choked, feeling the chilling surge of terror rush through him. He knew, looking into those horrible eyes.
It had come for its prince.
….Happy Halloween?
