All right, just a quick correction from last chapter. I wasn't sure how Olrox's surname ought to have been spelled, so I've been using two different spellings. As it turns out, I was right the first time: there are two 'a's', not two 'i's'. There. Settled.
For the first few seconds, Olrox fought back with a strength borne of desperation. Unfortunately for him, struggling against a stone statue or something of equally stubborn consistency would have been a bit more productive. This being the case, he exhausted himself rather quickly.
As Olrox gave up on the concept of moving, the unbearable pain, which had lanced through his entire body only a moment ago, seemed to retreat back to its source in his throat. During that respite, his confused brain was given a chance to catch up with the rest of the world. 'Vampire. That's the word I wanted. I'm going to die.'
Faced with this sudden revelation, Olrox felt a sort of calm. The fight was over. He had lost, true; he'd lost miserably, but it didn't really matter that much. He reasoned, as he tried one last tentative shove against his captor, that, seeing as a vampire before had never bitten him, he ought to think about that for a bit. After all, it certainly wasn't an experience most people had.
'So, this is what it's like. It's........not so bad, really, after the first part, anyway.' Olrox still felt a steady pressure at his throat, but it wasn't a stinging or pinching sensation like before. He relaxed as a cold, numbing euphoria washed over him. Olrox could feel the arms around him tighten; he could feel, and even hear, his ribs cracking as he was crushed against the vampire. He could feel his very life swiftly seeping out of the wound in his neck, faster than it had before. None of it hurt at all, though. He couldn't remember the pain of the bite, now that he was floating in this frigid void. 'Lovely. I wonder why people are so frightened of them. I suppose because you can only do it once...' Now too weak to smile at his last joke, one final conscious thought flitted through his mind before he fell into what he was sure was his final sleep.
'Mother is going to have an absolute fit.'
It had been so long. How many years had it been since he had done this, since he had tasted the blood of another? Too many, far too many. But now time was irrelevant, or it just didn't exist. His universe was Olrox, had always been Olrox, and would always be Olrox, in perfect unity, two hearts moving the same blood. He caught snatches of emotions, memories, and fleeting fragments of thoughts, all with overwhelming intensity.
Then, slowly at first, the gush of hot liquid life became a trickle, the heart next to his began to falter, and his thoughts were, once again, entirely his own. [Enough.] With a great effort, he pulled back, running his tongue over his fangs as he watched rivulets of blood ooze from the twin puncture wounds. He feared for a moment that he had taken too much; Olrox looked frightfully pale, which wasn't really so surprising, and he was dangerously cold, hanging limp in Vlad's arms.
Setting his burden down against the tree trunk, he was rewarded with a very soft, tired sounding little groan, barely audible to human ears. It was relieving, but Olrox wouldn't last much longer; the vampire would have to be quick.
Rolling up one of his sleeves partway, Vlad held his left wrist to one of his fangs, underside-up, and sliced a gash across it. Then, tipping back Olrox's chin, he let the blood run down into the human's open mouth. Leaning down next to the human's ear, he whispered, "Olrox. Olrox, you need to wake up now, child."
As if by way of reply, Olrox gave a feeble whimper, followed by a weak coughing fit when he choked on blood. Vlad withdrew his wrist, sparing it a cursory glance and seeing that it was nearly completely healed. He reached into the folds of his coat and produced a small, wicked-looking dagger. Brushing his hair over his shoulder, he held the point of the weapon over where he knew the artery to be, gasping as the chill steel bit into him. Its purpose served, Vlad replaced the dagger.
Lifting the human slightly, he placed his hand behind Olrox's head, pressing the human's lips against the open cut in his throat.
From his dark, unconscious void, Olrox became gradually aware that he was drinking something. Not only that, but he was unbelievably thirsty. And, irritatingly enough, the source of whatever it was he was drinking kept getting smaller, as though it was closing, so he had to keep tearing at it with his teeth to widen it again. The fluid itself was rapturous, and he lapped it up and gulped it down greedily, pausing only to catch his breath and reopen the wound.
Wait. [...Wound?] Olrox came to the painful realization of what he was drinking. His senses returning, he tasted an instantly recognizable tang in the liquid he was still swallowing. [Blood. Blood! What in God's name am I doing?!] And yet, he couldn't persuade himself to stop.
He didn't have much time to try, however, as a hand caught a fistful of his hair and pulled him back for him. He heard a shuddering groan and was mortified to discover that it was his own hoarse voice. For only an instant, Olrox felt shamed tears prick his eyes before he mercifully faded into unconsciousness again.
For the first few seconds, Olrox fought back with a strength borne of desperation. Unfortunately for him, struggling against a stone statue or something of equally stubborn consistency would have been a bit more productive. This being the case, he exhausted himself rather quickly.
As Olrox gave up on the concept of moving, the unbearable pain, which had lanced through his entire body only a moment ago, seemed to retreat back to its source in his throat. During that respite, his confused brain was given a chance to catch up with the rest of the world. 'Vampire. That's the word I wanted. I'm going to die.'
Faced with this sudden revelation, Olrox felt a sort of calm. The fight was over. He had lost, true; he'd lost miserably, but it didn't really matter that much. He reasoned, as he tried one last tentative shove against his captor, that, seeing as a vampire before had never bitten him, he ought to think about that for a bit. After all, it certainly wasn't an experience most people had.
'So, this is what it's like. It's........not so bad, really, after the first part, anyway.' Olrox still felt a steady pressure at his throat, but it wasn't a stinging or pinching sensation like before. He relaxed as a cold, numbing euphoria washed over him. Olrox could feel the arms around him tighten; he could feel, and even hear, his ribs cracking as he was crushed against the vampire. He could feel his very life swiftly seeping out of the wound in his neck, faster than it had before. None of it hurt at all, though. He couldn't remember the pain of the bite, now that he was floating in this frigid void. 'Lovely. I wonder why people are so frightened of them. I suppose because you can only do it once...' Now too weak to smile at his last joke, one final conscious thought flitted through his mind before he fell into what he was sure was his final sleep.
'Mother is going to have an absolute fit.'
It had been so long. How many years had it been since he had done this, since he had tasted the blood of another? Too many, far too many. But now time was irrelevant, or it just didn't exist. His universe was Olrox, had always been Olrox, and would always be Olrox, in perfect unity, two hearts moving the same blood. He caught snatches of emotions, memories, and fleeting fragments of thoughts, all with overwhelming intensity.
Then, slowly at first, the gush of hot liquid life became a trickle, the heart next to his began to falter, and his thoughts were, once again, entirely his own. [Enough.] With a great effort, he pulled back, running his tongue over his fangs as he watched rivulets of blood ooze from the twin puncture wounds. He feared for a moment that he had taken too much; Olrox looked frightfully pale, which wasn't really so surprising, and he was dangerously cold, hanging limp in Vlad's arms.
Setting his burden down against the tree trunk, he was rewarded with a very soft, tired sounding little groan, barely audible to human ears. It was relieving, but Olrox wouldn't last much longer; the vampire would have to be quick.
Rolling up one of his sleeves partway, Vlad held his left wrist to one of his fangs, underside-up, and sliced a gash across it. Then, tipping back Olrox's chin, he let the blood run down into the human's open mouth. Leaning down next to the human's ear, he whispered, "Olrox. Olrox, you need to wake up now, child."
As if by way of reply, Olrox gave a feeble whimper, followed by a weak coughing fit when he choked on blood. Vlad withdrew his wrist, sparing it a cursory glance and seeing that it was nearly completely healed. He reached into the folds of his coat and produced a small, wicked-looking dagger. Brushing his hair over his shoulder, he held the point of the weapon over where he knew the artery to be, gasping as the chill steel bit into him. Its purpose served, Vlad replaced the dagger.
Lifting the human slightly, he placed his hand behind Olrox's head, pressing the human's lips against the open cut in his throat.
From his dark, unconscious void, Olrox became gradually aware that he was drinking something. Not only that, but he was unbelievably thirsty. And, irritatingly enough, the source of whatever it was he was drinking kept getting smaller, as though it was closing, so he had to keep tearing at it with his teeth to widen it again. The fluid itself was rapturous, and he lapped it up and gulped it down greedily, pausing only to catch his breath and reopen the wound.
Wait. [...Wound?] Olrox came to the painful realization of what he was drinking. His senses returning, he tasted an instantly recognizable tang in the liquid he was still swallowing. [Blood. Blood! What in God's name am I doing?!] And yet, he couldn't persuade himself to stop.
He didn't have much time to try, however, as a hand caught a fistful of his hair and pulled him back for him. He heard a shuddering groan and was mortified to discover that it was his own hoarse voice. For only an instant, Olrox felt shamed tears prick his eyes before he mercifully faded into unconsciousness again.