Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warnings: AU/ OOC-Sookie speaks modernly with twinge of formality. I have included elements of SVM, 'cause True Blood died the moment Godric did… I kid I kid, there is some TB.
Let the right one in:
We toe the line of sanity.
We dance on the fringes of danger,
hell we are the danger.
Fear us, love us, and even hate us,
for we are the undone and divine.
l.
(A glimpse… it is not enough: I'd put a stopper to death, move the heavens and Earth if I could, just to be next to you.)
A pounding… in her head or at the door?
Fighting the currents of sleep is an uphill battle, but somehow she manages.
And immediately she is assaulted with voices—thousands of them. She whimpers, and then moans with agony, her magic has weakened, and her shields have faltered under the onslaught. Consciously she calls upon it, and finds it sluggish in response… magical exhaustion, damn.
She's never experienced it, only ever heard of it, and from what she did earlier this morning, Sookie's now suffering from the backlash.
To the clock she looks, 2:56 p.m. flickers in and out. Only a few hours of sleep will do so much, she needs sweets, lots of sweets. If she remembers correctly they are in a hotel, which means room service and… pastries. Now if only she could get up.
Iron clad arms hold her securely against a lean chest and a blissful smile paints her tired features as she remembers: Godric's look of utter awe, her delighted laughter, the warmth and glow of his skin in the morning sun, speaking as if they were old friends, her free kisses, and his lingering touches.
It was nearing noon when the pull of the sun became too strong for Godric to avoid dying for the day, and perfect timing for Sookie had become dizzy, and once they'd entered the hotel room she had all but collapsed. And in the distance she had heard Godric frantically calling out her name, while she mumbled almost drunkenly that she was fine, just very tired, and did he know how pretty his eyes were, like oceans or pebbles.
Magical exhaustion: loss of senses, fainting and dizzy spells, and intoxicated like behavior.
Yes not one her finest moments, anyhow.
The devil beside her indeed, Godric's seemingly angelic face doesn't even look dead to the world, rather in a deep sleep. Sookie muses he must have been turned in his late teens, perhaps even at twenty. She's rather curious about his tattoos, earlier she had traced them multiple times… and she knew there was a story there, but Godric had been rather tight lipped and she had left it there to explore better avenues… his mouth for example, many glorious things were happening there. 2,000 years to hone that skill, it makes her wonder about what else he's perfected.
And his voice, has she mentioned his voice.
Actually everything about him fascinates her and now she has the freedom to know him… finally.
She's quite the besotted fool.
What is she supposed to be doing?
Ah, yes ordering sugar for her health and all. Delving further into Godric's arms, Sookie realizes how easy it to get lost in him.
It's with great effort –her tiredness and reluctance—that she escapes Godric's manacle like grip, for someone who's supposed to be dead for the day, his grip is ridiculously strong. She wriggles from his embrace, rolls over, grabs hold of the phone and makes use of the hotel Carmilla's room service. By the time she finishes his tab will be very high, but she'll pay him back, she's a women of her word.
She's stumbling from the bed and into the small living area when she happens by a mirror.
If Claudine saw her now there would be hell to pay, she looks like death warmed over.
Thankfully she's not, besides it was worth it and she would do it again. She's a creature of the sun, and has chosen one of the children of the night as her mate; she would not walk alone in the light of day when the gift was an option despite its consequences.
Before she can sit, there's a pounding, this time not her poor aching head, but actual knocking at the door.
Instantly Sookie is alert.
Though still weak, three hours of sleep had given her a small supply of magic back. Her spark was far from charged, but it was enough to summon her great sword, and she reaches out with her mind, 'cause whoever's knocking isn't the hotel staff, no one comes to the vampire section in the daylight hours, she'd check.
Instantly her mental probe is caught, there's a static void that answers her telepathic link almost like an embrace. That can only be one of three people.
Sookie smiles despite herself and vanishes away her sword, it may not be her pastries but this person's sure as hell a welcomed distraction.
And so she lets the right one in.
"Youlooklikeshit," comes the greeting, said in typical Diantha fashion.
Diantha who's dressed like a highlighter add. The half demon's fashion sense is … electric to say in the least: neon green and black leggings, a knee length hot pink tutu, an orange halter, to top it off with bleach blond spiked hair. Shopping with her is always a riot, Sookie lives vicariously through her; Diantha wears the most outrageous things.
"Yes," Sookie takes it gracefully; it's the truth after all, "Magic overuse."
They skip over pleasantries, Supes aren't much for greetings unless there's formality involved.
Diantha nods and moves inside when Sookie steps aside; she looks around briefly, puts down the briefcase she carries and asks almost skeptically, "Vampire?"
Sookie smiles at the irony, a fairy and a vampire, that's just asking for all kinds of hell to break loose. But Sookie has always been stubborn, and loves a challenge. Besides it's so much more than a thrill, even as she speaks in the opposite, "A ride on the wild side."
That's also true, the fae have been known for being willing to try just about anything at least once. Diantha takes it as the gospel, and mutters, "Fuckingfairies." To which Sookie ignores… again typical Diantha fashion.
"Thevamipire'stheVisigoth," Diantha states, at Sookie's askance look she clarifies, "he'saclientofUncle's."
That's not surprising, the half demon brother of the demon Nargal seems to represent any Supe of importance in southern states; Niall Brigant also belongs on that list.
Speaking of the lawyer, "Old friend how is Gladiola and Mr. Cataliades?"
"Gladiolaisgettingmarried. Shewillsendyouaninvite."
Sookie claps her hands in delight, she loves weddings, and a demon wedding is always an interesting affair: a few sacrifices, self-mutilation, the tossing of the groom… yes great fun.
"Unclesendshisgreetings,andtheformsandpaperworkyou rgrandfatherwantedfiled,registered,andsigned." Diantha hands over the briefcase; Sookie takes it and looks inside to take a brief moment to catalogue what's inside: a social security card, credit cards, a birth certificate, et cetera—the usual works.
Her grandfather works fast, throwing around money never hurts, only a few hours since she left the faery realm and she has all she needs… but then again this is her. Not too sound arrogant, but there's no denying she's one of the Prince's favorites.
There's another knock at the door, and Sookie cheers, her pastries are here, she's feeling much better at the very thought.
Putting down the briefcase she turns to Diantha and asks if she would like to stay for tea.
ll.
(A glimpse… perhaps two, no forever will have to do: At my end's meet you come, you've torn my world asunder, and breathed life into once again… I shall never let go.)
There's no in between.
He'd dead and then he's… animated.
Then he's surrounded, and he stills himself.
She's everywhere, that's the best way he can describe it. Before her scent had been hidden, and it appeared in sleep the ability left. He buries his face in her pillow and groans. She smells of everything he loved as a human—wildflowers, rain after a storm, and sunshine.
It's settled then.
Starving himself for weeks at a time is no longer an option. As old as he is he requires little blood, but she tests his rigid self-control to an almost breaking point.
He'd need to begin feeding regularly and preferably from donors if he's to build a tolerance to keep from biting her. Sookie had not been shy, and words had not been needed to let him know what she wanted. And while he had returned her advances, it had been with great restraint. Godric has no objections, but the threat of draining her hangs over his head like a bad omen.
600 years ago he had kept harm from befalling her, a mere curiosity. But now it's different. Like a whirlwind she has come in, in such a dire hour, and tilted his world once again on its axis… he'd be damn if he's the one to bring the end to such a creature. A curiosity he knows he will have to possess mind, body and soul, for she's well on her way to consuming him.
His eyes snap open, and he runs his hand through his hair, a human gesture of frustration, but brings him great comfort. Already he's changing to fit her into his world, such an intrusion he finds is not… unwelcomed.
The memory of Sookie's open expression, eyes wide and vibrant with trust and an emotion he now identifies with love… something she told him to live for.
Romantic love is novel to him, the maker and child bond he shares with Eric had been born of blood, and centuries of companionship. With his death, the pain for Eric would have been searing, but time heals all wounds and at least Godric would have been free from his own personal hell, and been able to keep from accidentally inflicting it on his child had he lived.
But now the tables have turned.
Godric has the right to say nothing surprises him anymore, he knows what to expect. To say Godric is a cynic and a pessimist would be the understatement of the century, and considering his state of mind a few hours ago, there was little tying him down to this Earth.
Despite that the last few hours still have been filled with new wonders, and Godric knows they will keep coming. Inhaling the scent of the sun on his own skin is one of them.
He's not embarrassed to say he cried bloody tears, and laughed almost hysterically upon being able to day walk.
She'd brought back memories of long ago, faded ones of his human life, untainted with pain. Of days he would look to the horizon and find hope.
Emotional upheavals seem to now be his ailment; the weight on his chest feels as if it's lifting. The knot… that psychic ache's beginning to unfurl.
Godric soundly believes he's beyond redemption. He's the Visigoth, had he died he'd be remembered in blood, his reigns of terror were recollected by the vampires of old, but there's a feeling bubbling beneath the surface, one that has been foreign to him for a very long time.
Hope.
Perhaps what they say about the fae is true; in their presence one feels happier. And Godric has not been happy in a long time.
When he feels centered enough, without the threat of attacking her, Godric reaches out with his senses and finds Sookie in the next room. Accompanying her is the faded smell of demon, which is very curious.
He doesn't quite trust himself around her yet, he calls the service desk and orders to have three donors lined up within the next two hours. He will explain the circumstances to Sookie, having the feeling she'll understand.
Godric looks to the clock, 4:38 p.m. it appears that despite day walking he's still an early riser.
And then he slips from the bed, gathering clothing as he heads to the shower.
AN: This chapter had to be split in half; the second part will be up shortly.