Linkinparkfan9799
Vampire Knight: K+
Lost Bird
Chapter One: Little Orphan Aristocrat
Once upon a time, on July 8, 1908, a little aristocrat was born. His name is, yes 'is' dear reader, Dravond S. Lestro. He looks ten-years-old, seeing he ages once every ten years, to stop at fourteen. Despite that he gets to live forever, he spent most alone. His parents were killed recklessly on his fifth birthday on 1958. Being an only child, he was left alone. The castle he lived in was in the mountains where it always snowed.
Windows are and were cracked and shattered. Rats scurried in the shadows relucantly due to the vampire's, yes aristocrat vampire, scent. Rabbit and wolf corpses burned in the fireplace instead of wood. The furniture was eaten out and covered in spider silk. Any food in the kitchen was mold-covered and parasite-infested. Never the less, he lived in the murky walls surrounded by four towers, one collapsed.
Dravon has shaoggy carmel strands. They don't go past his round chin and cup his shallow cheeks, the cheek bones smooth and small. His ears are average for the common ten-year-old: small and thin. Marble skin is perfectly laid over the pink muscles and white bones. The skeleton stretches up to 4' 10" and is fairly weak. None has changed since 2008, the year his appearence seemed a decade.
It started February 1 of the year previously mentioned. The blizzard was harsh and Dravon was forced to play with his stuffed dragons inside the enclosed kitchen, every window boarded lazily, for it was summer when they went up. He had three dragons in hand (or lap, making noises as he tossed them up and crashed them down against rusted salt shakers and rotted tea boxes. The tooth-picks represented the villagers and the coffee powder he sprinkled on them was the dragon trio's fire.
"Oh no!" Dravon laughed heartily. "The dragons are attacking! We must attack and save the women and children!"
The children were the halves of toothpicks. The women were the toothpicks with dried up olives...with legs. Dravon used the cardboard bits of tea boxes as weapons, spears or stones. One great dragon with silver scales fell onto the wooden ground, angering his sunlight-scaled and his swamp-scaled commerades. Only having the naive mind he has, his voice varied with each toothpick and dragon. He was interrupted with the wail of the ancient front door.
"Hello?" he beamed. Company, what could be better? He dashed down the steps, laughing with joy. "I'm Dravon! What's your-"
He tripped and crashed onto the lower step, his knee scraped. His shorts tore at a led and a suspender strap over the white collared shirt snapped, the silver button flying. A gun cocked and he looked up to a sixteen-year-old with silver hair and light-purple eyes filled with spite. "So this is where you've been hiding, Level E," the stranger spat.
Dravon blinked with confusion. Eventually (meaning an hour od both precious lives), he came to the daft conclusion that this 'man' had simply mistaken him for an uninviting dooche. "'Cuse me sir, but me's afraid you're mistaken," he squeaked.
"That's what they all say," the 'man' groaned.
"But it's the truth!" Dravon pouted, standing and smearing the scrape's blood all around his knee. "I swears it on Dragota!"
The 'man' stared at Dravon as if he were a nut-job. "Who the fu-" he started. To tell all, Dravon is and always has been a naive vampire with a wide imagination. That's why he received the family's middle name: Screwball.
"Dragota is the leader of my dragon tribe!" he jumps, ignoring the scrape entirely. "Wanna see?"
"Look kid, I-"
"Oh please?" Dravon begged. "My parents can't play with me!"
"Then as-"
"Before you say 'ask them later', I can't. My parents are hibernating!"
The man blinked. "Hibernating?"
Dravon nodded proudly. "That's what they told me before they dozed off," he informed.
It seems you, my fair audience, don't undeerstand. Mr. and Mrs. Lestro's deaths were not fast. Wounded fatally, they were set on their bed and fifty-year=old Dravon woddled in. They lied and told him they'd be asleep for a dreadfully long time. He just smiled, thinking they'd wake up one day. Before they died, they gave him Hades, his silver dragon. Dravon proclaimed Hades the 'Sleep and Moon' dragon. It's unfair to let him wait and ne'er receive, but who's life doesn't have flaws?
The stranger looked at him with somewhat pity, seeing he too lost his parents. Taking a final breath, he answered, "Alright."
The youth cheered and ran up the stairs to the kitchen. The man followed in suit, not quite at the same pace, and walked into the poor excuse for a room. The swamp, silver, and sunlight colored dragons were all limp on the ground, being stuffed as they were. The man nearly gagged at the sight of the 'dried up olives with legs' on toothpicks, but did not want to trigger the boy's sadness, reasons unknown.
Dravon scooped up all three and beamed. "This swampy-like one is Dragota, the silver is Hades, and the sunny is Helio!" he introduced. "I'm Dravon S. Lestro! You?"
"Zero Kiryuu," the stranger stated. "Hey, have you seen any Level E's lately?"
The youth nodded. "He's in the basement, although he's hibernating to."
"Why's that?" Zero blinked.
"Oh, because his throat was ripped out. Gotta heal, you know?"
Taken from MY naive side. I want to do stories with little kids in them in a LOT, but it depends how popular this and Again Saving Under Land gets. K?