The notebook before him was covered in sprawling, elaborate patterns, some smudged gently and some jutting out sharply. His green pen had been set aside as he glared down at the paper. The pattern revolved around a large gear, swirling out from it was clockwork, imbricated and vivid. It was truly a work of art, elegant and curling lines, pushed onto the paper only by a careful and experienced hand.
A languor hand however.
A groan rolled off his lips as he pushed the paper pad away, hissing a curse under his breath as he leaned back in his chair. The back shrieked in reply to the weight as he hooked his heel on the handle of one of the various unused desk drawers. It seemed as though he was at a loss for inspiration, a great drought of artistic creativity with no chance of revitalization for quite a while. To be honest, he had long since milked out his muses, squeezing out every drop he could and nursing it onto the page. It filled the pages of his book, page to page the pen drawings sprawled over the paper. Yet he wanted more, wanting to fill the pages with swirling, efflorescent patterns, sharp, metallic designs, and dripping, bloody sketches. He wanted people to flip through the pages with curiosity and end with cynosure glimmering in their irises. Then they'd look back up to him, pointing to the drawing and requesting it to be drawn onto their shoulder or back.
But those dreams were silly; he already had a job most seventeen year olds wouldn't dream of.
He carded his fingers through his platinum blonde hair, letting the tresses slip through his digits and fall back over his forehead. It was high time for a hair cut, but he knew that wouldn't happen anytime soon. His brother was far too busy with his new lover, too consumed with ardor to detach his mouth from the others to say so much as good night to him.
Not that he was the type to tuck him into bed every night.
…
Okay, who was he kidding? His brother regularly left notes written in elegant cursive in his lunch wishing him a good day and countless other mushy things that he felt mortified his brother could even came up with. And of course, they were all signed from mom. Poking his head in every so often around 11 at night to blow him a kiss and then slink off back to his room wasn't uncommon either.
"D-dirk-!" The cry sunk through the walls and made Dave shudder. The last thing he needed to hear was Dirk's boyfriend in a throw of passion. Not that he hadn't before, the walls in the apartment were paper thin and the simple rustle of fabric could be easily heard from the kitchen. The sound of bed springs and pants was swirling in Dave's room, and it definitely didn't belong there.
He cursed again and stood up, fisting his hand and banging on the wall, "Would you keep it down!? I'm working in here!" Dave shouted, flopping back onto his seat with a huff and glaring at the wall.
"I am too," came the muffled reply of his brother's, his voice gruff and groveling as always.
Dave groaned and fisted his hand in his hair, wishing he could block out the sounds as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was getting more and more irritating having Dirk's boyfriend around, what was his name? James? No, Jake, that sounded better. Dave didn't really care; his brother usually kept a lover for around a week then traded them out for someone more appealing. It was getting frustrating though, it had been three weeks and English was still around. The man was antagonizing, optimistic and all smiles, it was driving Dave crazy. He insisted on using ridiculous words that he likely made up, all flirted with an accent. He was lithe and muscular, just a few inches shorter than Dirk, his hair a messy heap slapped onto his scalp, his grin one of the dorkiest things Dave had ever seen. It sickened him how incredibly attractive the man was. Not that he liked him in any sort of romantic way, quite the opposite actually. He was much more of a rival to him than a crush.
With a grimace he gritted his teeth and rose from his chair, pulling on his jacket, a few holes in the sleeves but would supply adequate warmth for a quick stroll through the city. Dirk and Dave had always had a close relationship for brothers, despite all of the elder's lovers. It was likely a closer bond than most siblings shared. Dave never saw it much out of the ordinary, the teasing and brawls on the rooftop seemed like healthy sibling quarrels, but perhaps when he snuck out to Dirk's room in the dead of night to curl up into his bed after a nightmare, perhaps that was odd. Perhaps more so because he had nightmares every night and every morning he would awake to Dirk's arms around him, holding him in a protective embrace.
That comfort though, had been robbed of him when Jake came along.
Dave let the door slam as he left the apartment, not bothering with a note or a goodbye, not even his phone. Dirk would know how to get a hold of him if he needed, not that he seemed to need or want to speak with him lately.
The hall was cold, desolate and blanketed in a pregnant silence. It put Dave on edge as he moved through the corridor, the gray walls pressing in upon him in pensive curiosity, whispering to him, questioning his glare that resided behind his glasses. His crimson gaze grinded from the doors to the floor, watching it roll by under his feet until he found himself free of the tension, outside the building and surrounded by cynical city folk. Their stares were reserved for their feet or the street, not bothering for one another, Dave was quite alright with this.
He let himself wander, not a thought given to where his feet took him as he passed by restaurants, where the people binged on filth slopped into a wrapper, clothing shops, where the girls fretted over pushing their tops lower and letting their skirts climb up their legs, doctors offices, where the people wept and fretted over their fates, even the tattoo parlor he passed by, not even tasking a glance to his friends as they watched him trudge past desultorily. All he focused on was the lights, watching as they flickered and fell upon one another, imbrications that danced on the street as the cars pushed by. It was nearing nightfall and the penumbras were already stretched out on the cement, corpses on a battlefield, forgotten and laid out to disappear one day.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary that day, the drone of the city was dull and dead as usual. Dave experienced no twinge in his gut as he shouldered past the lifeless figures that navigated the streets daftly. He wasn't sure how long it'd been since he last took a walk around the city, he didn't necessarily care either. Despite his friends badgering to visit them at the tattoo parlor, he refused to leave the apartment, far too unmotivated to leave. Usually he left only accompanied by Dirk to work, although a good portion of the time he could only recall bits and pieces of their toils. The beginning of their work, the searching and the finding, were clear enough, however, the true labor of the tasks were hazy, sometimes entirely blotted out of memory. Once released from his trance, he could feel himself drain of his energy, teetering on consciousness as he would stumble back to Dirk's side. He knew his brother hated seeing the effects, and he'd much rather not have Dave do such work with him, yet Dave insisted upon the continuation of their methods.
Dirk Strider was indeed a master puppeteer, putting the words he needed into any forms mouth, drawing what he needed from their throats and putting into motion what he needed of their hands. His smirk was enticing and his eyes were dangerous, yet that wasn't what pulled the strings. Dave's elder brother was not like other comely men his age, he was a man of exceptional abilities. Dirk had a sort of mind control, to put it simply. For the most part, Dirk was simply an intruder of the mind, not so much the controller. On a normal occasion, Dave could expect a small word from his brother to be slipped into his brain. A mere suggestion of action, like a whisper lost amongst the storm and slipping under the waves of thoughts, the adumbrate would soon resurface, in a few short minutes. Like an echo it would resound, growing louder and louder through his head until all he could think was what Dirk had murmured into his thoughts. Total control was much different though, it was immediate and much more akin to someone leaning over to shout into Dave's ear. It was much less of a suggestion and much more of a command, an order growled into his ear by a master he could not refuse.
Dave accepted his place below Dirk, a mere sidekick to the professional of the pair. But he knew his brother would have a much more difficult time with their job should he not have him. Dave wasn't just a puppet for Dirk to manipulate and bend to his will, no, he was much more than that. He couldn't quite see like regular people, without his shades Dave was left to see much more than the average person. The strange and twisted of the world became much more visible to him, their facades melting beneath his crimson gaze. Should a being not of origin to the earth be present near Dave, he would sense it with a twist to his gut. Without his shades, the souls of all living creatures present would be displayed for them, the size and brightness varying from person to person, species to species, and creature to creature. Of course, he wasn't cursed to constantly view the souls of people and beasts without his shades, with help from Dirk he could block out his ability. Dirk usually suppressed Dave's ability after a long job, in an attempt to help him recover after a hard battle. It generally served no assistance in healing besides a slight rest of his eyes, not constantly faced with harsh bright lights and vibrant colors. But upon request Dirk would do so anyway, Dave could talk his brother into most anything if he pleaded enough.
The side effects of Dirk's 'mind suggestion' were rather heavy on the receiving end. Dave suffered through regular nightmares, leaving him trembling and petrified in the bitter embrace of darkness within his stagnant room. He didn't want his brother to pity him, or think lowly of him, but he did appreciate the affection he was spoiled with. Dirk was definitely not the warmest individual, nor the kindest; he was manipulative and somewhat wicked. But there definitely was a heart, although battered and dented; it was still beating and soft. His fingertips were always gentle when they brushed Dave's cheek and smoothed his platinum blonde hair. His grip on his hips was tender when he pulled him close; his heart beat steady and comforting as he pressed him against him. Dirk was rugged and strong, clever and sinister, but he loved his brother and would never turn him away from his duvet at midnight after a terror filled dream.
It wasn't so much that Dave had romantic feelings towards him, or that he wanted him in any other way than platonic embraces. It was more that he was far too emotionally and even mentally linked to him to be able to not be jealous when he brought home English. Despite the new face, the nightmares continued, his dreams still plagued with horrors, and when he woke there was no brush of lips at his forehead and whisper of reassurance. There was only the cold, chilling kiss of moonlight that swept over his room, slicing into the night that lay heavy there.
He hated it, he hated Jake.
Dave shook his head as a man grunted beside him, pushing past him hurriedly. With a glare he watched him shoulder his way down the road, shoving people anyway shamelessly. The blonde tilted his head, looking over his shades at the man, clad in a brown coat with shining buttons and a finely made scarf. His soul was puny for a human anyway, its light low and a sour yellow color. Dave's tongue clicked as he continued down the street, pushing his shades further up his nose unconsciously.
The paranormal being on average housed a small soul, a whisper of a flame that resided in their form. Demons were known to hold close to no soul, perhaps a flickering light of one, but hardly there at all. Werewolves held likely the largest that a supernatural being could have, nearly half that of a human.
His strides were mechanical and unconscious as he breezed through the streets. The city withered away behind him as he continued his way on the streets, winding his way through the labyrinth he lived within. The houses fell away from the image of perfection and glass and to shambles and graffiti, the windows smashed in and dogs barking viciously from an unknown place. Grass seemed to return from wherever it had been hiding from beneath the metal and cement of the city, green and dominating every yard with its dew covered blades. It was a welcome sight, despite the road being cracked and a group looking to be up to no good stood across the street.
Beneath him the sidewalk began to slope upward, curling into a hill that turned to the right sharply as he neared the crest. A rusting iron gate caught his eye as he reached the top, glancing up at the elaborate curls of metal on the door. Resting behind it loomed a mansion, a very particular sight set beside the countless houses boarded up windows and broken in doors. The mansion was dark; its walls bathed in shadows and reflected the night it sat amongst. The windows were impossible to see into; the door was old and appeared to be rotting. It was probable the mansion was once opulent and glamorous; the garden was likely tended to with the utmost care, the windows clear as crystal and the knobs polished a fine golden shade.
Dave stepped up to the gate as the wind begin to pick up, as if on cue beginning to tangle its fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling playfully on them. Behind his shades his gaze flickered down to the latch and he slowly raised his hand, letting his fingertips graze the cool metal. Something about the house sent a small shock to his stomach, something was very off about the house. The blonde gripped the latch and tugged upward, the metal shrieking in protest as he pulled the gate open, stepping back to let it swing freely.
The trail that wound up to the mansion was practically ancient, grass growing between the cracks of the cement and buds of blossoms yet to come hung sullenly on their stems. Dave glanced around the garden carefully before taking a step forward, the ground crunching under his sneaker.
The air was bitter, an ominous note sung softly as it swept by, gravitating him towards the mansion. The trail became significantly shorter as he pushed his way towards the door, its rusted knobs practically begging to be turned by a pale hand. Now really, how could he deny an old object's its dying wish?
The handle was cool, rough and crumbled slightly onto his hand as he gripped it, twisting it slowly. If anytime was the appropriate period to follow his brother's advice on never entering a potentially dangerous situation without him, now was the time. As the door squealed as he pushed it open, shrieking at him to turn back, a scent hit his nose that made his gut twist tighter than ever. Dave fell to the ground, clutching his abdomen and yelping, panting and scrambling backwards.
Whatever was in that mansion was bad news, very, very bad news.
Of all the years he had been a paranormal hunter with Dirk, he had never sensed something that strong. Nothing could possibly compare to the strength that lie dormant in that threshold. They had faced enemies of incredible evil and power, leaving the pair groveling for life and gasping for a glimmer of relief from the pain that blinded them. But when he initially sensed those beings, he wasn't left on the floor as if he had been stabbed in the gut.
He was going to investigate.
It was the perfect chance, even if he could very well get injured extremely badly; perhaps he could at least see what sort of creature it was. He was gambling it was a demon, something that spat acid and had glowing yellow eyes, perhaps pointed ears and a shriveled up tail. Whatever it was, he was going to find it.
Dave pushed himself to his feet, removing his shades quickly and clipping them to the front of his shirt. The scent made his gut twist a bit but he gulped past the pain, stepping through the doorway and taking a breath of the stale air within the mansion. Dust coated the furniture, the chandelier hung dully from above; its unlit candles had tears of dried wax on their cheeks, the wick dead eyes of a man hung long ago staring him down from his noose.
The mansion looked empty, abandoned for ages it appeared, the only inhabitants were the rats that scrambled away as he took another step. The room was silent, only the wind that howled and whined from outside audible. Dave glanced around, noticing the kitchen door that hung ajar to the left and the stairs that sat near it, the carpet there appeared trampled, the once plush fabric flattened against the wood.
The silence inside was eerie and the floor let out a whimper as he took a step in, taking a long whiff of the stale air. His gut was still curling and uncurling, but he ignored it and pushed away his ability best he could, opting to glance around in search of life. Or undead he supposed; that was always a possibility. Dave's crimson gaze raked over the room, then to the door and the stairs. It seemed off to him, the house appeared so void, the whole thing just reeked of desuetude, yet the stairs and kitchen held something, a small glow.
It was rare he saw something like that, the floor or furniture glowing, it was a somewhat odd occurrence of a creatures soul leaving behind a trace, a residue almost. It would leave a glow on items, the ground, sometimes even other people. It didn't happen often, only when the soul was large enough would it leave behind a spiritual trail. Most of the humans never grew a soul to that size; only a few ever did, not counting children of course. Human children tending to have large souls that would light up a room, leaving behind a thick trail that anyone who could see it could follow. (That was generally why children were a target for many paranormal beasts.) But, the mansion was empty, it was impossible for a soul trail to be here.
A small creak of floorboards forced Dave's head up, glaring around the room and towards the stairs. There was a glimmer of something there, a soul hiding just behind a door, its light was enormous though; a lovely red that spilled out from the door and lay comfortably on the carpet outside of its shield. Whoever was hiding there had a soul larger than Dave had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of souls living in a crowded city as he did. He relaxed slightly, there couldn't be a paranormal being here, at least none that meant harm. If anything at all, that soul belonged to a ghost of a child, still trapped in limbo and floating amongst its memories. Ghosts were hardly a threat at all, having not crossed through to receive a more physical form they're trapped in a state of confusion and disarray. Dave had never had much of an interest in ghosts, far too much hype over such boring creatures, only ever floating around to reminiscence before taking on their role as an angel or demon. Ghosts were only a moiety of a person recently past, the other piece of their being would be residing in one of their memories, only once they had traveled through their memories and found the shard would they transform into the being they'd remain for eternity.
The soul was retreating behind the door further, its light dissipating into the room and away from the entrance. Dave took a tender step forward, ready to at least inspect the mansion, perhaps find where the soul trail had come from. Despite the massive size of the soul, no ghost can leave a soul trail; once their dead, all of their soul trails fade and disappear forever.
His fingers smoothed over the wood of the railing, its surface was dented and rough, bumping along the pad of his finger. Dave pulled himself up onto the first stair, staring down at the soul trail. The trail was a gentle pink hue, pulsing gently with the heartbeat of its maker. An eyebrow was quirked as he looked closer; kneeling down now on the stair to stare down at it, noticing the pulsing of the pink was rapid, much quicker than he had initially figured. His eyes trailed up it to the landing at the end of the staircase and then to the door resting against the wall, hanging slightly ajar. A soft squeak was heard as he glared up at the door, noticing some rushed movement within.
Dave felt his own pulse quicken as he rose to his feet, ready to push off the stair and charge into the room. Just as he had sprung up a few stairs, he felt his muscles lock up, sending him sprawling onto the stairs.
Get your ass back here.
That was Dirk. Definitely Dirk.
Dave groaned in pain as he pulled his arms up to drag himself back to his feet. Stumbling a bit, he made his way to the bottom of the stairs where he sighed. Whatever it was in that room had to wait, because before he knew it, he was already walking out of the mansion; and not on his own accord. Usually Dirk would leave a suggestion, let Dave get back to him at his own pace; but no. Of course right when he was in the middle of something interesting he had to demand something of him; push his body into action immediately. His feet were sweeping down the staircase before he realized it, Dave growled and forced himself to stop.
Now, Dave.
Suddenly his mind was fogging over, his thoughts turning into nothing but meaningless rambles, coming and going sluggishly. Dave stumbled off the stairs and was soon taking off out of the mansion. The blonde pushed his shades back onto their place, resting on his features and glided outside. It didn't take long to reach the apartment again, especially since his mind was hazy, his movements were swift and smooth, sliding through the streets and up the stairs to their apartment. He strode into the apartment as his thoughts began to clear, no longer ringing and echoing with Dirk's voice.
He shut the door quietly, raking a glare over the area quickly and quipping, "Bro?" Dave pushes his sneakers off and padded further into the apartment. Lately Dirk had been cleaning, most likely to impress Jake. It was unlikely though, Dave grimaced; it was more likely so they'd have more variety of places to screw when Dave was out of the house. The thought made him shudder as he passed through the kitchen and wound his way to the back room where Dirk usually fiddled with his puppets and robotic shit. Dave could never made heads or tails of the clutter in the room, usually 'mistaking' it all for garbage. His brother would just give him a pointed stare before retorting back that without his tinkering and without all this 'weird shit' he wouldn't have a roof over his head and food to stuff his face with.
"Bro?" Dave repeated as he rapped a knuckle against the door. There was a muffled reply from within as the blonde sighed, pushing open the door and crossing the threshold. "What did you want?"
Dirk was situated at his desk, still littered with metal trinkets and a few puppets dangling off the edge. The man himself was much taller than Dave, with large, pointed shades shielding his eyes. Dirk's hair was currently messy, damp still from a shower and was wearing his usual lazy clothes, a black wife beater with some loose fitting jeans. "I have some interesting news, lil bro." Dirk rumbled out jostling a few papers in his hand.
"What?" Dave deadpanned, subtly glancing around and noticing that not only had Jake vacated but had left behind a few traces of his presence there. The thick cord necklace with large animal teeth strung through it was resting on the nightstand next to his watch. It sent a small sting through his stomach at the sight of it; usually his shades sat there after coming in to sleep by his brother the night prior.
The sound of Dirk patting his lap made Dave return his gaze to his brother's smirk. He leaned back a bit and setting some papers aside that he had been holding. There was no real hesitation as Dave strode over and relaxed onto Dirk's lap. It had been a while since the brother's had held each other in a sweet embrace, a tangle of limbs and warmth. Dave curled up unconsciously on his lap, nuzzling the crook of his elder brother's neck, breathing in the musky scent of him. "We're on the hunt for the last pureblood." The man's eyes glimmered through the tinted shades on his face. Unlike Dave, his eyes were bright amber, almost brown where the color met white. "I think you know what that means." Dirk smirked wider, jabbing a thumb to the papers on the desk. Curiously, the blonde sat up slightly in his lap, looking just over the rim of his shades to the pages. They held a long wall of text with a few bolded words here and there, but it wasn't any of the fine print that caught his eye. Rather, it was the title at the top, two words that sent a thrill down his spine.
Pureblood vampire.
After a moment Dave's eyebrows knit together, vampires were definitely an odd task to be assigned with. There used to be a plethora of vampires in their area, one of the largest clans in the nation. It had been a number of years ago, before Dave started working with Dirk. He had told him all about it though; it was a large raid on the hive where they would gather often. That was around the time when Dave dreamed to be just like his brother, fighting the paranormal and being an overall badass. Of course, Dave had already grown out of that phase, now dreaming of his own future, far away from any sort of paranormal attractions. But it seemed as though, for now at least, he was stuck with Dirk to catch and destroy whatever they were assigned. They'd never been assigned to a vampire before though, for obvious reason, so being suddenly tasked to one was very odd. More importantly, it was a pureblood vampire. Dave wasn't an expert on vampires, obviously there wasn't a need to know about them, but he knew purebloods were bad news. A pureblood vampire was royalty to its clan, not a drop of human blood in their veins. Due to their high status and entirely vampire heritage those happened to be the most powerful vampires out there.
Dirk chuckled, low and dark, drawing Dave from his thoughts, "Don't tell me you didn't hear the rumors of the vampire prince." His eyes were narrowed and had an evil glint to them, "He's the last of his kind, hidden away by the vampire king's dying wish. Such a tragic story, orphaned by his father and his entire race at a young age." He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy. "But not to worry, the agency sounds like they'll give him a nice home. I'm guessing it's a collector somewhere, probably let him bunk with some dust bunnies and flop some enemies in at him to feed on." Dirk mused before wetting his lips and turning back to Dave, "So? You ready to go vampire hunting?"
The younger party took a moment to think, knowing he really had no choice but to agree and sighed. The amber eyed man smiled slightly and moved a hand to rub Dave's back, the leather of his glove gliding over the fabric. "Yeah, I guess I'm in." Dave murmured against his skin as his pale lashes fluttered closed, spiraling into a blissful sleep.