Eeeeeeeeee! *does a happy dance* I got three reviews! So what if two are from the same person! ^_^ To answer your question, Enigma, the words are (fairly poor) Romanian, or some Slavic language very much like it, as are the names of Olrox's family. :) Oh, and be warned that this fic is very AU. So all you people who are well read in Castlevania lore, don't get mad at me. It's been too long since I played the game to remember much. ^^;;;
Despite his wave of dizziness, Olrox had managed, through some divine intervention, he was sure, to make it all the way to the gardens without more than a few unsteady stumbles. Leaning against a large old olive tree, he let himself sink slowly to the grass.
His head was swimming. In the heat of the moment, the practical aspect of leaving the Trandifir house had never crossed his mind. Now, however, it was hitting him full force-with a vengeance.
'Where will I go? Where will I stay? How am I to live? I must find work, but what could I possibly do? Ohgodohgodohgodoh god in heaven, what am I doing?' Wiping his coat sleeve across his eyes, Olrox made an attempt at pulling himself together. "Tomorrow," he croaked out aloud, though there was no one else to hear it. 'Tomorrow, I will pack a few changes of clothes, and money, and I will say goodbye to my family and the servants. And then I will saddle my horse and I will leave. I will go northeast towards our village; if I get lost, I'll ask for directions. If it rains, I'll find shelter. If I am held up....I must pack a weapon also. Perhaps Alex could give me one of his guns. Or a sword. That would be better, I think. Yes. I can do this,' he straightened a bit. 'Just take it one step at a time. When I get to the village, I'll rent a room and then look for some sort of employment. There must be things I could do. I could wash dishes, at least, or clean, or muck out stables.' His possible job options seemed less and less appealing the more he thought about them. 'And even if I end up as a laborer, it wouldn't be all bad. I COULD use the exercise...'
His obviously bleak future flashed across his mind. At best, he would spend the rest of his life working long, hard days at something he hated for meager wages. He would struggle to keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach for years, and, considering his soon-to-be living conditions, he would likely as not catch some dreadful disease and die at any given time. At worst... He shivered. 'No good thinking about that. You're getting ahead of yourself, don't damn this before it's even begun...'
Abandoning what little control over himself he had regained, Olrox rested his head against his knees, curled his arms around his legs, and let a second wave of tears come. He would have to be strong later, so he might as well wallow in self-pity now, while he still could, and get it over with. He would survive this, and in all likelihood, it wouldn't be as bad as he imagined, but a sheltered and slightly spoiled young man needs to escape the stiff confines of rationalism and maturity now and then, right?
Roughly ten yards away...
Patience. Patience and perseverance most certainly pay off. Slipping from the boughs of the tree with liquid grace, the creature landed without a sound, even the long traveling cloak swirling around his tall frame noiselessly. With one gloved hand, he swiped a lock of snowy white hair out of his eyes. Effortlessly, he seemed to glide rather than walk across the lawn, the grass blades springing back up in his wake as though he had never stepped there.
He reached the olive silently and leaned against it, gazing down at the pitiful form huddled at its ancient trunk. A mortal, dressed in shades of green and pale yellow. Last season's cut and style, but fashions change far too quickly anyway, and considering the family... It was easily forgiven. Truth be told, it was far more likely that more attention was paid to the tall, lean figure wearing the slightly dated weaves than the clothing itself, under any circumstance.
Little could be seen of the mortal's face, as it was hidden behind a curtain of careless, deep brown hair that had somehow or another escaped the ribbon that usually held it in a ponytail. The creature remembered the face, though. And it brought back numerous fond and uncomfortable memories. Such a familiar face, in its own way...
He was very young. Perhaps not by mortal standards, but when measured against the creature's years he was little more than an infant. Late teens, or early twenties. It was difficult to tell for sure, but soon it wouldn't matter anyway. 'Age, with all its afflictions, will never touch him.' Such an opportunity would never again present itself. The wait was over, and now was the time to act. His unnatural voice softened in mimicry of compassion.
"Child, why are you crying?"
"Child, why are you crying?" Olrox had had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him for the past few minutes, and at the sound of a voice, very nearby, his heart leapt into his throat. It was hard to determine the source of the voice after it stopped, as the sound had seemed to surround him. Instinctively, he looked behind him.
He smiled as he observed the mortal's reaction. He saw muscles tense and heard faintly the human's quickening pulse as he tried to pin down the location of the voice. Fear was really such a beautiful emotion... The human let out a surprised yelp and jumped back, looking ready to bolt. The creature chuckled good-naturedly and made a polite bow. "Forgive my rudeness; I had no intention of startling you." He threw in a gentle smile, a wink, and then seated himself casually on the ground.
Olrox knew he must look like a fool, staring and gasping like a fish out of water, but he hadn't expected the owner of the voice to be so close! He was not more than two feet away. And the sight of the strange visitor was nothing short of extraordinary. His build alone was awing. Broad-shouldered, but slim, and Olrox wouldn't have been surprised if he was seven feet tall. The man's features were hard-set, as though he'd been carved out of marble. Cold eyes of amber gazing out from a slightly hollow alabaster face, a living statue. Olrox shivered. There was something very unnatural about this man, from his paleness (and he was exceedingly pale) right down to the chilling precision and agility of his movements as he brushed off imaginary specks of dirt and straightened the nonexistent wrinkles in his coat, waiting for the younger man to regain his composure. He himself was immaculate and completely composed. 'Composed,' Olrox mused. 'Like a corpse waiting for its funeral...' Odd, that he should think of something like that.
Remembering himself, Olrox sat up at a respectful distance from the stranger. 'He must have been sick. That's why he's so pale and gaunt. At any rate, he seems well enough now...'
"Excuse me, but this is private property."
The man quirked up an eyebrow amusedly. He smiled as one would to a small child who has unwittingly said something improper. "It's quite all right, young Trandifir; I am an old family friend, you could say." The deep voice, now louder than it had been at first, had an uncanny resonance to it that made Olrox squirm a little.
"Then you will want to come inside, of course, Sir..."
"Oh. I must beg your pardon again. I forget my manners; I don't socialize much. Just call my Vlad. That will do. And I'd really rather stay out here, if it's all the same to you. After all, it's lovely weather." Off-putting, his amiability, but Olrox continued.
"Does your horse need tending, then, Vlad? Can I get you anything at all? If I may be so bold...you look ill."
This won another airy chuckle. "I have no horse. I walked here. As I said, the weather is too lovely to waste." Another wink. "And you most certainly are bold; bolder than you know. You could say that I am ill, and have been, but I will recover, I always have before." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You can help me with that soon enough. But you never answered my question. Finding a young nobleman weeping in his garden in the dead of night is not a common occurrence."
Olrox half thought he was being laughed at in some way, but somehow he doubted that this so-called family friend was disposed to such ridicule. "It is nothing, sir, I assure you. I would not burden you with my own personal problems."
Vlad grinned momentarily, and then seemed to catch himself. Olrox saw shining white teeth for only an instant. "I make you uncomfortable, I see." He held up a hand to stop Olrox's protest. "No, I know the effect I have on others. So," he said matter-of-factly, "I will be more straightforward. I have come here because I feel I owe your family a favor. You have fallen out of your father's favor. He has gone so far as to disown you." A sigh as Olrox opened his mouth to speak. "You may question me all you like tomorrow, perhaps. Come now, it grows late!" A spark of irritation. Olrox decided to be seen and not heard for the time being.
"I am in need of an apprentice of sorts," Vlad continued, eyes half-lidded. "Someone to help me run my household and learn my...trade." He almost laughed aloud at that, and it was imperceptivity harsher this time. The younger man's upset expression further tickled him. "Calm yourself, child," was the gentle reprimand. "Seeing as you are in need of this opportunity, I have come to offer this apprenticeship to you. I offer it freely; all you need do is agree." He held out his hands, as if presenting some unseen gift.
Olrox looked warily into the strange, ageless face smiling at him, then stared down at his own nearly worn-out boots and considered the older man's proposition. It was the answer to all his problems, such a perfect solution, but... 'It's too easy! A total stranger appears right on time just to bail me out? No...' Olrox's better judgment told him to run for the house, politely declining once he was safely inside.
But then there was another part of him that desperately wanted to accept the unusual invitation. He couldn't begin to guess the reasoning behind this; perhaps it was a need for security, or a longing for adventure and spontaneity. Maybe part of him was just plain bored to tears. Olrox opened his mouth to answer, and then chickened out and snapped it shut again, running a hand through his hair agitatedly.
Vlad watched and heard the human's indecision. This one needed a little nudge. Sighing, he moved as if to stand. "I really would love for you to accept, but...if don't wish to, I suppose I could find someone else..."
It had the desired effect. Olrox was jolted out of his thoughts and managed to sputter out: "Oh, that's quite all right; I think I'd like to."
The creature smiled. Just a bit more coaxing... "You THINK you'd like to?" Smile. A little charm and charisma never hurts.
Olrox thought for a moment, or at least pretended to. "Yes. I'm sure I'd like to." He managed a nervous smile. This was it! He could start over, make something of himself; he could reconcile himself with- 'Don't get your hopes up. If you can, you can, and if you can't, well...that's Elie's problem.' He wasn't going to let his father put a damper on his excitement, though. He quickly scrounged up some poise and thoughtfulness. "There will be paperwork to take care of?" It was meant as a statement, but the older man didn't seem to take it as such.
Vlad waved a hand dismissively. "All legalities will be taken care of, not to worry. Now, if you're certain you've made your decision..." He held out a gloved hand. Olrox slightly warily clasped it, and almost in the same instant, he had been pulled to his feet. The sudden change from sitting to standing was too much; he swooned, and would have fallen had Vlad not caught and steadied him. Olrox leaned against the arm Vlad offered while he waited for the world to stop spinning.
"Oh, forgive me. I really should have given you some warning," the older man apologized in a sympathetic tone.
The creature shifted his arm, gently, so as not to bruise the human. He now had a secure hold around Olrox's shoulders, should the Trandifir panic and try to run, though at the moment, he still looked too disoriented to do much of anything with the finesse needed to escape another human, much less the fiend he was comfortably nestled against now.
Vlad's canines pushed at his lips as they stretched into a smile at that thought. How fragile and trusting they are! [Has he no idea at all that I could kill him effortlessly? Even now I must be careful not to crush his hand in mine.] His thumb brushed over the knuckles of Olrox's left hand, which he had never released. He knew he probably should have; too much contact was bound to make the human uneasy, but it was much warmer and softer than his own. It seemed a waste not to enjoy any such things while they lasted.
The young one seemed to be regaining his bearings, squeezing his tired umber eyes shut and rubbing his right temple with one slender hand. He felt the human shiver somewhat, then stiffen as soft eyes snapped open and focused on him. [Damn. I hate being rushed.] He made an attempt at allaying Olrox's obvious distress, fully aware that he couldn't stall for very much longer.
"Feeling better? You've certainly had an unusual day, haven't you?"
Still reeling, Olrox became quite abruptly aware of the coolness of the arm supporting him, and also of its vice-like strength. Experimentally, eyes still closed, he tried shifting his weight as though he were about to take a step. He couldn't! He couldn't budge at all, he was being held perfectly in place. [Not right not right at all...] An animalistic terror was building in him, though he had no idea why he was so upset, his body was screaming at him to flee.
Automatically, he opened his eyes, looking up at Vlad with undisguised alarm. He could vaguely hear murmuring and feel caresses that he supposed were meant to be soothing, and while this made him all the more panicked, he found himself transfixed by the bizarre eyes of the other man. Vlad's gaze had caught his own very quickly, and Olrox was unable to break eye contact. As for all other senses and thought, they were pushed into the background. [Just what the hell is he?]
He realized, a moment too late, that he couldn't see Vlad's aureate eyes anymore.
Olrox had perhaps one second to scream as he was plucked off the ground by an arm wrapped around his waist before an iron hand grabbed his hair near the scalp, twisting his head up and to the right just as two impossibly sharp somethings were driven into his throat, flooding his senses with a blinding pain.
Despite his wave of dizziness, Olrox had managed, through some divine intervention, he was sure, to make it all the way to the gardens without more than a few unsteady stumbles. Leaning against a large old olive tree, he let himself sink slowly to the grass.
His head was swimming. In the heat of the moment, the practical aspect of leaving the Trandifir house had never crossed his mind. Now, however, it was hitting him full force-with a vengeance.
'Where will I go? Where will I stay? How am I to live? I must find work, but what could I possibly do? Ohgodohgodohgodoh god in heaven, what am I doing?' Wiping his coat sleeve across his eyes, Olrox made an attempt at pulling himself together. "Tomorrow," he croaked out aloud, though there was no one else to hear it. 'Tomorrow, I will pack a few changes of clothes, and money, and I will say goodbye to my family and the servants. And then I will saddle my horse and I will leave. I will go northeast towards our village; if I get lost, I'll ask for directions. If it rains, I'll find shelter. If I am held up....I must pack a weapon also. Perhaps Alex could give me one of his guns. Or a sword. That would be better, I think. Yes. I can do this,' he straightened a bit. 'Just take it one step at a time. When I get to the village, I'll rent a room and then look for some sort of employment. There must be things I could do. I could wash dishes, at least, or clean, or muck out stables.' His possible job options seemed less and less appealing the more he thought about them. 'And even if I end up as a laborer, it wouldn't be all bad. I COULD use the exercise...'
His obviously bleak future flashed across his mind. At best, he would spend the rest of his life working long, hard days at something he hated for meager wages. He would struggle to keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach for years, and, considering his soon-to-be living conditions, he would likely as not catch some dreadful disease and die at any given time. At worst... He shivered. 'No good thinking about that. You're getting ahead of yourself, don't damn this before it's even begun...'
Abandoning what little control over himself he had regained, Olrox rested his head against his knees, curled his arms around his legs, and let a second wave of tears come. He would have to be strong later, so he might as well wallow in self-pity now, while he still could, and get it over with. He would survive this, and in all likelihood, it wouldn't be as bad as he imagined, but a sheltered and slightly spoiled young man needs to escape the stiff confines of rationalism and maturity now and then, right?
Roughly ten yards away...
Patience. Patience and perseverance most certainly pay off. Slipping from the boughs of the tree with liquid grace, the creature landed without a sound, even the long traveling cloak swirling around his tall frame noiselessly. With one gloved hand, he swiped a lock of snowy white hair out of his eyes. Effortlessly, he seemed to glide rather than walk across the lawn, the grass blades springing back up in his wake as though he had never stepped there.
He reached the olive silently and leaned against it, gazing down at the pitiful form huddled at its ancient trunk. A mortal, dressed in shades of green and pale yellow. Last season's cut and style, but fashions change far too quickly anyway, and considering the family... It was easily forgiven. Truth be told, it was far more likely that more attention was paid to the tall, lean figure wearing the slightly dated weaves than the clothing itself, under any circumstance.
Little could be seen of the mortal's face, as it was hidden behind a curtain of careless, deep brown hair that had somehow or another escaped the ribbon that usually held it in a ponytail. The creature remembered the face, though. And it brought back numerous fond and uncomfortable memories. Such a familiar face, in its own way...
He was very young. Perhaps not by mortal standards, but when measured against the creature's years he was little more than an infant. Late teens, or early twenties. It was difficult to tell for sure, but soon it wouldn't matter anyway. 'Age, with all its afflictions, will never touch him.' Such an opportunity would never again present itself. The wait was over, and now was the time to act. His unnatural voice softened in mimicry of compassion.
"Child, why are you crying?"
"Child, why are you crying?" Olrox had had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching him for the past few minutes, and at the sound of a voice, very nearby, his heart leapt into his throat. It was hard to determine the source of the voice after it stopped, as the sound had seemed to surround him. Instinctively, he looked behind him.
He smiled as he observed the mortal's reaction. He saw muscles tense and heard faintly the human's quickening pulse as he tried to pin down the location of the voice. Fear was really such a beautiful emotion... The human let out a surprised yelp and jumped back, looking ready to bolt. The creature chuckled good-naturedly and made a polite bow. "Forgive my rudeness; I had no intention of startling you." He threw in a gentle smile, a wink, and then seated himself casually on the ground.
Olrox knew he must look like a fool, staring and gasping like a fish out of water, but he hadn't expected the owner of the voice to be so close! He was not more than two feet away. And the sight of the strange visitor was nothing short of extraordinary. His build alone was awing. Broad-shouldered, but slim, and Olrox wouldn't have been surprised if he was seven feet tall. The man's features were hard-set, as though he'd been carved out of marble. Cold eyes of amber gazing out from a slightly hollow alabaster face, a living statue. Olrox shivered. There was something very unnatural about this man, from his paleness (and he was exceedingly pale) right down to the chilling precision and agility of his movements as he brushed off imaginary specks of dirt and straightened the nonexistent wrinkles in his coat, waiting for the younger man to regain his composure. He himself was immaculate and completely composed. 'Composed,' Olrox mused. 'Like a corpse waiting for its funeral...' Odd, that he should think of something like that.
Remembering himself, Olrox sat up at a respectful distance from the stranger. 'He must have been sick. That's why he's so pale and gaunt. At any rate, he seems well enough now...'
"Excuse me, but this is private property."
The man quirked up an eyebrow amusedly. He smiled as one would to a small child who has unwittingly said something improper. "It's quite all right, young Trandifir; I am an old family friend, you could say." The deep voice, now louder than it had been at first, had an uncanny resonance to it that made Olrox squirm a little.
"Then you will want to come inside, of course, Sir..."
"Oh. I must beg your pardon again. I forget my manners; I don't socialize much. Just call my Vlad. That will do. And I'd really rather stay out here, if it's all the same to you. After all, it's lovely weather." Off-putting, his amiability, but Olrox continued.
"Does your horse need tending, then, Vlad? Can I get you anything at all? If I may be so bold...you look ill."
This won another airy chuckle. "I have no horse. I walked here. As I said, the weather is too lovely to waste." Another wink. "And you most certainly are bold; bolder than you know. You could say that I am ill, and have been, but I will recover, I always have before." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You can help me with that soon enough. But you never answered my question. Finding a young nobleman weeping in his garden in the dead of night is not a common occurrence."
Olrox half thought he was being laughed at in some way, but somehow he doubted that this so-called family friend was disposed to such ridicule. "It is nothing, sir, I assure you. I would not burden you with my own personal problems."
Vlad grinned momentarily, and then seemed to catch himself. Olrox saw shining white teeth for only an instant. "I make you uncomfortable, I see." He held up a hand to stop Olrox's protest. "No, I know the effect I have on others. So," he said matter-of-factly, "I will be more straightforward. I have come here because I feel I owe your family a favor. You have fallen out of your father's favor. He has gone so far as to disown you." A sigh as Olrox opened his mouth to speak. "You may question me all you like tomorrow, perhaps. Come now, it grows late!" A spark of irritation. Olrox decided to be seen and not heard for the time being.
"I am in need of an apprentice of sorts," Vlad continued, eyes half-lidded. "Someone to help me run my household and learn my...trade." He almost laughed aloud at that, and it was imperceptivity harsher this time. The younger man's upset expression further tickled him. "Calm yourself, child," was the gentle reprimand. "Seeing as you are in need of this opportunity, I have come to offer this apprenticeship to you. I offer it freely; all you need do is agree." He held out his hands, as if presenting some unseen gift.
Olrox looked warily into the strange, ageless face smiling at him, then stared down at his own nearly worn-out boots and considered the older man's proposition. It was the answer to all his problems, such a perfect solution, but... 'It's too easy! A total stranger appears right on time just to bail me out? No...' Olrox's better judgment told him to run for the house, politely declining once he was safely inside.
But then there was another part of him that desperately wanted to accept the unusual invitation. He couldn't begin to guess the reasoning behind this; perhaps it was a need for security, or a longing for adventure and spontaneity. Maybe part of him was just plain bored to tears. Olrox opened his mouth to answer, and then chickened out and snapped it shut again, running a hand through his hair agitatedly.
Vlad watched and heard the human's indecision. This one needed a little nudge. Sighing, he moved as if to stand. "I really would love for you to accept, but...if don't wish to, I suppose I could find someone else..."
It had the desired effect. Olrox was jolted out of his thoughts and managed to sputter out: "Oh, that's quite all right; I think I'd like to."
The creature smiled. Just a bit more coaxing... "You THINK you'd like to?" Smile. A little charm and charisma never hurts.
Olrox thought for a moment, or at least pretended to. "Yes. I'm sure I'd like to." He managed a nervous smile. This was it! He could start over, make something of himself; he could reconcile himself with- 'Don't get your hopes up. If you can, you can, and if you can't, well...that's Elie's problem.' He wasn't going to let his father put a damper on his excitement, though. He quickly scrounged up some poise and thoughtfulness. "There will be paperwork to take care of?" It was meant as a statement, but the older man didn't seem to take it as such.
Vlad waved a hand dismissively. "All legalities will be taken care of, not to worry. Now, if you're certain you've made your decision..." He held out a gloved hand. Olrox slightly warily clasped it, and almost in the same instant, he had been pulled to his feet. The sudden change from sitting to standing was too much; he swooned, and would have fallen had Vlad not caught and steadied him. Olrox leaned against the arm Vlad offered while he waited for the world to stop spinning.
"Oh, forgive me. I really should have given you some warning," the older man apologized in a sympathetic tone.
The creature shifted his arm, gently, so as not to bruise the human. He now had a secure hold around Olrox's shoulders, should the Trandifir panic and try to run, though at the moment, he still looked too disoriented to do much of anything with the finesse needed to escape another human, much less the fiend he was comfortably nestled against now.
Vlad's canines pushed at his lips as they stretched into a smile at that thought. How fragile and trusting they are! [Has he no idea at all that I could kill him effortlessly? Even now I must be careful not to crush his hand in mine.] His thumb brushed over the knuckles of Olrox's left hand, which he had never released. He knew he probably should have; too much contact was bound to make the human uneasy, but it was much warmer and softer than his own. It seemed a waste not to enjoy any such things while they lasted.
The young one seemed to be regaining his bearings, squeezing his tired umber eyes shut and rubbing his right temple with one slender hand. He felt the human shiver somewhat, then stiffen as soft eyes snapped open and focused on him. [Damn. I hate being rushed.] He made an attempt at allaying Olrox's obvious distress, fully aware that he couldn't stall for very much longer.
"Feeling better? You've certainly had an unusual day, haven't you?"
Still reeling, Olrox became quite abruptly aware of the coolness of the arm supporting him, and also of its vice-like strength. Experimentally, eyes still closed, he tried shifting his weight as though he were about to take a step. He couldn't! He couldn't budge at all, he was being held perfectly in place. [Not right not right at all...] An animalistic terror was building in him, though he had no idea why he was so upset, his body was screaming at him to flee.
Automatically, he opened his eyes, looking up at Vlad with undisguised alarm. He could vaguely hear murmuring and feel caresses that he supposed were meant to be soothing, and while this made him all the more panicked, he found himself transfixed by the bizarre eyes of the other man. Vlad's gaze had caught his own very quickly, and Olrox was unable to break eye contact. As for all other senses and thought, they were pushed into the background. [Just what the hell is he?]
He realized, a moment too late, that he couldn't see Vlad's aureate eyes anymore.
Olrox had perhaps one second to scream as he was plucked off the ground by an arm wrapped around his waist before an iron hand grabbed his hair near the scalp, twisting his head up and to the right just as two impossibly sharp somethings were driven into his throat, flooding his senses with a blinding pain.