Title: Via Nocturna (challenge) (alternate version)
Author: Taylor
Status: Incomplete, Ongoing
Type: AU
Rating: PG (will be R atleast or maybe NC-17 if I feel like it)
Pairing: Yohji/Ken (will have Schuldich/Ken Brad/Schuldich Ken/Ran)
Warnings: Shounen ai, angst, VAMPIRES!!!
Summary: An eternally damned undead tells a story of love, hate, need, and hunger.
Disclaimer: You mean they don't belong to me? Oh darn!
Author's Note: I'm experimenting with a new style of writing. It's faux 18th century. So beware! Anyways, please tell me what you think. I'd appreciate it!
I ran. Not because I was afraid or lonely, but because my inability to accept and believe. I could not have become what he is. I could not accept that. He was the epitome of evil. Blasphemous, satanic, and devilish, yet some how irresistible. I flew towards him, like a moth towards a flame, knowing that he would be my destruction, yet unable to turn away. Incredulous of what I have become, I ran. I ran from the need, the lust, the hunger. Yet no matter how much I denied myself I could not escape them. I couldn't forgive myself for killing, for destroying innocent lives, for damning him to the life of the undead. This is my story, my life, and my damnation. I no longer seek to repent for my sins. I only seek to preserve those memories that I hold dear.
~*~
I was born by the ocean on the island of Crete, with sounds of waves lapping onto the beach, as my mother used to tell me. "The morning was glorious, my precious, the sky clear and flawless, the ocean mild and calm. You were the blessing given to me by god on that beautiful morning. You used squall endlessly until I brought you to the beach, and you would then pacify almost immediately. You would watch the turquoise waves with utter fascination, and then I would sing you an almost ancient Italian lullaby." My mother was a Venetian, my father a Turk. I never knew my father; he left my mother just before I was to be born; yet my mother never blamed him for leaving us. She used to tell me gently as I sat on her lap, "Your father, Ken, was the most handsome and courageous being ever to grace the planet." I don't think I ever believed her.
I grew up under the sun of Iráklion, a city on the northern shore of Crete. I believe year was 1755, a tranquil era, when my mother became the lady in waiting to my distant aunt. I do believe that I was 7 at the time. My aunt was a gentle creature with dark hair, fair skin, and eyes greener than even the shallow sea. She wedded an aristocrat, who was both gallant and handsome, with hair brighter than the golden sun. They had a son, threes years my elder, Yohji. He had inherited the most formidable trait of both parents. No need to say he was beautiful. He had his father's golden hair, his mother's glorious green eyes, pale, yet healthy skin, lashes that many ladies would kill for, sculpted features that none alive could compare. He was slightly lanky for a lad his age, but quite tall. They all treated us with both respect and love. Yet I still craved for something; something deep within my soul, something insatiable.
Years flew past as I dwelled in luxury. In those years I have become very close to my distant cousin, spending most of my days in his companionship. It brought great joy to me to spend time with him. He grew up to be a true Adonis. Golden tresses that rivaled the golden sunshine fell in waves, they were not quite shoulder length, but thick and beautiful, full lips that invited kisses, green eyes that could drown anyone. He was tall, six feet in fact, rather impressive given the era. His body was built, though not overly. He was still slightly lanky, but he compensated with grace in even the smallest of gestures. The day he came to the age of 18, he took a hold of my wrist and brought me to his chambers. He sat me on his bed, and seated himself next to me. "Ken, do you think I'm beautiful?"
"Of course, you have all those village girls that you bedded to prove it." I smiled innocently.
"No. That was not what I meant."
"What are you talking about?" I was thoroughly confused by that point.
"I mean do you find me attractive?" He was flustered, very uncharacteristic of him.
"Yes, of course." It was the honest truth.
"Do you love me then?"
"I do. I love you like I love your mother, your father, and my mother. I love you with all my heart."
"No, no, no." He turned towards me, grabbed a hold of my shoulders, and looked imploringly into my eyes. "Does being in my company bring you joy? Do you miss me when I am gone from your presence? Do you look into my eyes and loose yourself in its depth? Does your heart cease to beat when you catch even a glimpse of me? Do you want to hold me tight against your chest, fearing that I would escape? Do you love me?" He then took my cheek into his open palm, leaned his face towards me, and covered my lips with his generous ones.
continue? No?
Author: Taylor
Status: Incomplete, Ongoing
Type: AU
Rating: PG (will be R atleast or maybe NC-17 if I feel like it)
Pairing: Yohji/Ken (will have Schuldich/Ken Brad/Schuldich Ken/Ran)
Warnings: Shounen ai, angst, VAMPIRES!!!
Summary: An eternally damned undead tells a story of love, hate, need, and hunger.
Disclaimer: You mean they don't belong to me? Oh darn!
Author's Note: I'm experimenting with a new style of writing. It's faux 18th century. So beware! Anyways, please tell me what you think. I'd appreciate it!
I ran. Not because I was afraid or lonely, but because my inability to accept and believe. I could not have become what he is. I could not accept that. He was the epitome of evil. Blasphemous, satanic, and devilish, yet some how irresistible. I flew towards him, like a moth towards a flame, knowing that he would be my destruction, yet unable to turn away. Incredulous of what I have become, I ran. I ran from the need, the lust, the hunger. Yet no matter how much I denied myself I could not escape them. I couldn't forgive myself for killing, for destroying innocent lives, for damning him to the life of the undead. This is my story, my life, and my damnation. I no longer seek to repent for my sins. I only seek to preserve those memories that I hold dear.
~*~
I was born by the ocean on the island of Crete, with sounds of waves lapping onto the beach, as my mother used to tell me. "The morning was glorious, my precious, the sky clear and flawless, the ocean mild and calm. You were the blessing given to me by god on that beautiful morning. You used squall endlessly until I brought you to the beach, and you would then pacify almost immediately. You would watch the turquoise waves with utter fascination, and then I would sing you an almost ancient Italian lullaby." My mother was a Venetian, my father a Turk. I never knew my father; he left my mother just before I was to be born; yet my mother never blamed him for leaving us. She used to tell me gently as I sat on her lap, "Your father, Ken, was the most handsome and courageous being ever to grace the planet." I don't think I ever believed her.
I grew up under the sun of Iráklion, a city on the northern shore of Crete. I believe year was 1755, a tranquil era, when my mother became the lady in waiting to my distant aunt. I do believe that I was 7 at the time. My aunt was a gentle creature with dark hair, fair skin, and eyes greener than even the shallow sea. She wedded an aristocrat, who was both gallant and handsome, with hair brighter than the golden sun. They had a son, threes years my elder, Yohji. He had inherited the most formidable trait of both parents. No need to say he was beautiful. He had his father's golden hair, his mother's glorious green eyes, pale, yet healthy skin, lashes that many ladies would kill for, sculpted features that none alive could compare. He was slightly lanky for a lad his age, but quite tall. They all treated us with both respect and love. Yet I still craved for something; something deep within my soul, something insatiable.
Years flew past as I dwelled in luxury. In those years I have become very close to my distant cousin, spending most of my days in his companionship. It brought great joy to me to spend time with him. He grew up to be a true Adonis. Golden tresses that rivaled the golden sunshine fell in waves, they were not quite shoulder length, but thick and beautiful, full lips that invited kisses, green eyes that could drown anyone. He was tall, six feet in fact, rather impressive given the era. His body was built, though not overly. He was still slightly lanky, but he compensated with grace in even the smallest of gestures. The day he came to the age of 18, he took a hold of my wrist and brought me to his chambers. He sat me on his bed, and seated himself next to me. "Ken, do you think I'm beautiful?"
"Of course, you have all those village girls that you bedded to prove it." I smiled innocently.
"No. That was not what I meant."
"What are you talking about?" I was thoroughly confused by that point.
"I mean do you find me attractive?" He was flustered, very uncharacteristic of him.
"Yes, of course." It was the honest truth.
"Do you love me then?"
"I do. I love you like I love your mother, your father, and my mother. I love you with all my heart."
"No, no, no." He turned towards me, grabbed a hold of my shoulders, and looked imploringly into my eyes. "Does being in my company bring you joy? Do you miss me when I am gone from your presence? Do you look into my eyes and loose yourself in its depth? Does your heart cease to beat when you catch even a glimpse of me? Do you want to hold me tight against your chest, fearing that I would escape? Do you love me?" He then took my cheek into his open palm, leaned his face towards me, and covered my lips with his generous ones.
continue? No?
