The Formative Years
A Larten Crepsley Deaging Story
~*~Having just arrived back at the Cirque Du Freak, Darren Shan has had enough of his mentors babying. In a rage, he wishes Larten was a teenager once more, so that he too could suffer the dreaded faith of pimples, young love and testosterone. What Darren didn't know, was that on that particular night, a red crescent moon shone and Destiny lurked on the horizon. ~*~
Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Darren Shan, nor do I own any of the characters. Anything names, plots, themes or characters which occur in this FanFiction belong to the author of the Darren Shan Saga - Darren O Shaughnessy This is just a work of FanFiction.
Thank you to Wolf Seeker and Mayo2198 for adding this story to alerts and favourites.
Thank you to The-ice-cold-alchemist, ferretgirlsz, yukiislikesnow, jumpingbean480 for reviewing this story.
Chapter Two: A Touch of Destiny
Larten stormed across the camp. His temper had flared and he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. His fingers clenched dramatically at his sides and small snarling noises, noises that possibly reminded the other Cirque members of the Little People eating, echoed from deep within his throat.
He could not believe the audacity of Darren. After all he had done for him; fed him, educated him, kept him safe, ran the length of the country for him when he was to weak to move himself from lack of blood; after all of that, the boy throws it back in his face.
He came to a stop outside his trailer and leaned against the door frame. His temples throbbed annoyingly. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Larten breathed deeply, lifting his shoulders high into the air and dropping them slowly. When he was younger, which was an alarmingly 150 or so years ago, he used to hit trees or bang sticks against them to help relieve any pent up frustration. But now he felt silly. Here he was, 170 years old, mature and grown and he couldn't control the frustration a 16 year old caused him. He scoffed at himself and pushed the door open, causing the candle flame to flicker and cast his wild shadow across the wall.
Pouring himself a tumbler of blood, he sat on top of the old wooden table settled in the darkest corner of the room. He sipped the blood and swirled it around his mouth, as if tasting wine. It was a familiar tasting sample, probably belonging to one of the freaks. They were generous when his supplies ran low, Cormac Limbs especially. He donated a finger or two to Larten every few months.
It has been a long few months with Darren. The boy wasn't adjusting very well to the life of a vampire. He regularly slipped from happiness and being a really chatty person, to withdrawing into himself and preferring to tag a few feet behind Larten. That made the old vampire scowl every time. He didn't like people avoiding him, it meant they were either scared of him or didn't like him. Despite having a fearsome reputation amongst the Cirque and vampire community, of which he secretly adored, yet deep down, he didn't want people to turn away in fear. He rather enjoyed company, talk and laughter. And if he were to be completely honest, he liked the boy. Darren was a good kid and he made for even better company when he wasn't sulking or complaining.
There was a silent knock on the door when Larten was unbuttoning his shirt. He grunted a "Come in" and turned his back to the door, fumbling with the buttons. The door to the trailer creaked open and a deadly draft attacked his back. He shivered. The person entering stepped over the threshold and the trailer rocked gently. Larten turned. The face he met was one of malice, twisted into a devious smirk and if faces could produce words, Larten was sure that this certain face would read the word "Gotcha."
"Hello Crepsley, long time no see, don't you think?"
Larten's eyes narrowed. "What do you want Tiny?" he asked.
Mr Tiny cocked his eyebrows high on his brow and smiled, holding his hands out and shrugging. "Oh just a visit is all. I fear out ties have been severed, quite rudely by you. So I've had to come find you."
"You have got no business here Des Tiny, there are no problems to be resolved and we certainly do not want any problems to be caused."
Mr Tiny smiled. He clicked his fingers and the dark curtains blocking the window opened. The moon shone through, crossing Larten's face and highlighting his grotesque scars.
"Such a beautiful night, isn't it? Any particular reason you aren't wandering around the country side, flitting for helpless humanoids, refilling stocks; word has it that you've run low."
Larten stepped foreword out of the moon light. He was now uncomfortably close to Mr Tiny, far closer than he liked but he wasn't going to show his discomfort. One does not falter beneath the shadow of Desmond Tiny, weakness isn't a useful attribute in that mans company.
"I am preparing to head out," Larten said, motioning towards his red coat on the table.
"And the boy." It was more of a statement than a question.
Larten frowned. "What boy would that be? The only boy here is Evra, I hope you are not suggesting I bring along a snake boy with me."
Mr Tiny chuckled, his pearly teeth glistening in the moonlight. "Oh Larten, you never did fail to amuse me. Here I was thinking after such a long time we had become close friends. Isn't honesty something you value, Mr Crepsley?"
"What do you want Tiny. You have got no reason to be here, you are trespassing on Cirque grounds without good reason. And most importantly," and with this Larten clicked his fingers and his red coat appeared slung over his shoulder, "You are disturbing my hunt and I am hungry and I am now departing."
He stepped around Mr Tiny and made for the door, slinging himself into his coat. "I trust you know how to let yourself out," he said, then flitted out of the camp site, and across the open fields.
Mr Tiny smiled. He pulled his glasses from his bald head onto the tip of his nose and chuckling lightly, entering the trailer again. He picked up the empty tumbler Larten had drank from and swabbed the rim of the glass with a que tip. Flicking his trinket box open with a sharp click, he dropped the que tip into it and flicked it closed, tucking it back into his jacket. Helping himself to a grape that hung form the edge of a fruit bowl, he smiled.
0
Darren paused at the trailer door of Mr Crepsley's living area. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside the trailer, not even when he pressed his ear to the door.
"Mr Crepsley?" he called, knocking on the glass. "Can I come in?"
There was no reply. Darren looked around him to make sure there was no one looking, and then opened the door a crack, slipping into the dark room. In the corner he saw Larten's coffin propped at an angle against the wall. Alongside it on the rickety old table was a glass tumbler. Darren could smell the remnants of blood in the glass and his mouth watered slightly. Shaking the lust for the crimson liquid that stained the inside of the glass, walked to the coffin and pressed his ear to the lid. He couldn't hear any breathing. It was empty.
Darren sat on a chair beside the table and stared at the floor. He didn't have anywhere to go; Evra was playing with his pet snake and he didn't know the other Cirque members very well. If Darren were to be honest with himself, he knew that the other members weren't keen on him being on their grounds. He wasn't a member of the Cirque and he wasn't even a proper freak. Instead he was a half vampire who spent the majority of his day sulking and hanging around with a 170 year old. He had come to Mr Crepsley's tent to apologise for his behaviour that night. He hadn't meant to say he hated him because he honestly didn't hate him. He was just frustrated and his temper got the best of him. Darren sighed and swung his legs on the chair. After waiting hopelessly for 5 minutes, he left the tent and headed back to his own. He kicked a few stones on the way, letting them fly through the air and hit against random tents.
"Darren." he heard someone call.
He turned and saw a large man, dressed in a dark suit with purple lining standing beneath a tree. Darren frowned. He had never seen him before. Darren couldn't help but smirk as the miniature fairy lights in the trees above the man sparkled on his bald head making it shine. The man smirked back and waved, flexing his fingers. He then turned and walked away behind a trailer.
Darren stared after the retreating figure, shrugged and continued walking back to his tent. He would apologise to Mr Crepsley tomorrow, once he was well rested and hopefully in a better mood.
0
Not far from the cirque, Larten stopped against a tree. He leant against it and wiped a dribble of sweat from his brow. His ginger hair flopped into his eyes. He had been flitting for no more than a half an hour when he had begun to feel tired. He concluded it was probably due to him having a belly full of fresh blood, so he sat on a stump next to the tree. His stomach groaned and with this Larten scowled. In all his years of being a vampire, he had only ever had one stomach ache from indulging in blood; it had been when he was newly blooded and feeling powerful and higher than any one in the world. His stomach growled again and Larten leant over, scowling down at his boots.
Thank you once again to all those that reviewed and subscribed.
This chapter is a bit all over the place, but it's really just a filler and introductory chapter. Do tell me what you think, what you'd like to see and so on. See you all in Chapter Three.
- asth3nia.
