The earth parted under his pale fingers with ease, revealing the soil-caked
top of a worn and timeless casket. Even with his inhuman strength, the
man's forehead faintly gleamed with blood-tinged sweet. Catching his
breath, Watari did a mental check of the coffin's contents. It was faint,
but the pulse of thoughts came back at him like a lamenting echo. Whatever
feelings coupled the presence; he didn't wish to know and mentally drew
back as if he had touched something hot. Once again, his friend was in
danger of losing something dear to him and there was no guessing at how, or
if he would be able to recover. It was like racing to catch an empty shell
before it hit the ground. The damage had long ago been done, but the hope
that he could be refilled was still -something-.
"Oi! Stay with me, Tsuzuki. I almost have you out of there!"
"I would have thought you would know better."
His hands froze, still caked with earth. The golden haired man spun around to the source of the voice. So cold, so composed. A voice that gave nothing as hints of emotion or life, just like the shadows that lingered around him like fine material.
"Sneaking down here like this, it's not like you. The Master would not be pleased by this."
Watari took a step to the side, placing his back to the half unearthed coffin, putting himself between it and Tatsumi. "We can't stand by and do nothing, Tatsumi! He doesn't deserve this!"
"We're killers, Watari. Our very existence is a sin. Our only solace is not in the world of the mortals, but in our coven." A slender hand reached up, pressing against the silver ridge of his glasses. "Being delusional about that will get you killed or driven insane like the old ones. Never forget that."
Taken aback by the words, Watari's shoulders visibly hunched, making the man seem smaller then he was. His voice grew very soft, rich eyes glancing to the ground as if heavy with unspeakable thoughts.
"I never forget. Everything about this place is a constant reminder. No, I hold no delusions about anything, anymore. All I have to look forward to is eternity as a toy to a mad-man." Raising his eyes up, he took a step towards his elder, his face set in an unreadable expression. "But not this time, Tatsumi. We did nothing when the Master killed his sister and brought him into this, though we both vowed our fates wouldn't be known to another. We did nothing when he broke him. We sat there like good little puppets and kissed the hand that killed us, loving the fact that we suffer for the eternal guilt of kin slayers. Not anymore." He finished flatly, turning back to the coffin and gripping his fingers around the hinge of the lid. "I can't save them all. I couldn't even save myself, but if I can save just one, than maybe, just maybe, I'll stop wearing chains in my dreams."
Tatsumi said nothing. Watari hadn't expected him to. But he also didn't move to stop him as he struggled with the coffin lid, finally opening it and sending it crashing to the dirt covered ground. The back side of the lid was covered with deep ruts, carved by the nails of its captives.
The sight was truly horrifying.
All of the Master's fledglings were created in the same abusive, but overall, strengthening manner. Yet Tsuzuki wasn't nearly as gifted as the others, showing no great power or call of his own. He was still so human, still had so many emotions that any Gifts he may have received were lost under the turmoil of his mind. In times of great stress, they would manifest in powerful and frightening ways, but they were like flames, consuming him along with whatever had provoked him.
Watari could have been drained and locked in a coffin, not much worse for wear, nothing that a few feedings couldn't have fixed. Tatsumi wouldn't have looked more than slightly pale by the punishment, probably refreshed and stronger for the rest. It would have taken decades for either of them to reach this stage.
The amethyst eyed vampire before them wasn't more than flesh pulled tightly against bone. Tendons and veins stood out against the skin like cords on display. Angelic, sharp features only made him look more like a skeleton. And why the smell wasn't overpowering, it was faint and lingering, like prolonged death.
There was movement from behind him as Tatsumi stepped forward. He paused next to Watari, his face the unreadable mask it always was. If he was upset by the sight, his voice gave no hint, it was only soft whisper of some vague emotion. It was possible he had been a great speaker in life, able to stir the soul with such a voice, otherwise it would never have been possible to chill the blood without ever speaking above a murmur.
"He'll need to feed. I'll take care of him. You go help the boy. Warn him and get him as far from here as possible. Use your animal familiar. The Master won't be able to sense your Gifts."
"Why are you helping?"
The taller man never paused to answer the question. He leaned down and wrapped his pale fingers into the crumpled material of his friend's clothing. With a soft and fluid motion, he pulled forward, lifting Tsuzuki and taking him into his arms. -God, he's so light. Barely more then the cloth that covers him.-
Tsuzuki's body reacted to the heat, even if his mind was still shut away in memories. Reaching weakly, his hand searched for the closest of Tatsumi's arm, his fingers brushing against the flesh. Even so near to a coma, he could feel the steady, slow pulse of the warm blood there. With a faint moan, his fangs gashed tightly together, hunger an unbearable pain. The weak grip against Tatsumi's arm nothing more then a child's as he tried to pull the flesh to his lips, not wanting to feed, but needing it.
Watching him with mirrored eyes, Tatsumi rested a hand against the back of the man's dark hair. Cradling his head against his broad chest and at the same time, moving the slightly opened mouth closer to the soft underside of his exposed arm. Not even the Master dared to feed on the Shadow Caller. For it wasn't past his power to destroy a mind, even the most powerful of them, with such a private connection of blood. Yet for this one, this tender, almost child-like, humanly weak vampire, he would allow it. Welcome it even. The dull surprise of realizing this did nothing to slow his actions.
Not yet and not here.
He turned away from the coffin, heading back into the shadows holding his precious quarry.
"Oi! Tatsumi, why? Why now?" The former scientist's brow furled in confusion, the soft hints of wrinkles against pallid flesh. In a few more decades, he'd lose even that tiny feature, his skin becoming as marble like as his elders.
The shadow master paused. With his back to Watari, the autumn haired man couldn't see the expression on his face, as he gazed to the broken man hanging nearly life-less in his arms. Years and years ago, the Master had promised the mauve eyed angel to him to Embrace, as a partner, as something to loosen the dark reaches of a soul that even someone like the Master thought cold.
Tatsumi had refused.
But they were all wrong, thinking he didn't wish to Embrace someone so child-like, so care free, someone that would probably be weak and need constant protecting, someone such a total opposite to his own austere personality. But that wasn't true. In this man, he had seen everything he had loved in life and couldn't taint it with darkness. He couldn't stop the Master, but he wouldn't be the one to kill him.
-I always have been selfish, so much like my Gift. Shadows steal their form from light, but I couldn't take yours, Tsuzuki. Instead, I choose to leave you alone in the dark, knowing the Master wouldn't just leave you. The sin would be done and I turned my back to it. I'm such a coward.-
"You don't have time for questions, Watari. The Master left at dusk. Seek the balm for your soul and I shall seek mine."
The shadows rose up from the ground, seeping from the walls until a thick pool of spectral black covered the pair, vanishing as was his style. Where he would take the man, Watari didn't know.
"Tatsumi." He said in hushed tones. -Was there anyone here that didn't end up stained by the dark blood?-
Turning, his white coat flared out behind him like wings and with the same unnatural stealth, was gone.
The crypt darkened into full night. The only light source came from a small cross-shaped window, casting a pool of crimson moonlight onto the broken casket, like the foreboding kiss of some forgotten god.
-What starts in blood, will end in blood.-
"Oi! Stay with me, Tsuzuki. I almost have you out of there!"
"I would have thought you would know better."
His hands froze, still caked with earth. The golden haired man spun around to the source of the voice. So cold, so composed. A voice that gave nothing as hints of emotion or life, just like the shadows that lingered around him like fine material.
"Sneaking down here like this, it's not like you. The Master would not be pleased by this."
Watari took a step to the side, placing his back to the half unearthed coffin, putting himself between it and Tatsumi. "We can't stand by and do nothing, Tatsumi! He doesn't deserve this!"
"We're killers, Watari. Our very existence is a sin. Our only solace is not in the world of the mortals, but in our coven." A slender hand reached up, pressing against the silver ridge of his glasses. "Being delusional about that will get you killed or driven insane like the old ones. Never forget that."
Taken aback by the words, Watari's shoulders visibly hunched, making the man seem smaller then he was. His voice grew very soft, rich eyes glancing to the ground as if heavy with unspeakable thoughts.
"I never forget. Everything about this place is a constant reminder. No, I hold no delusions about anything, anymore. All I have to look forward to is eternity as a toy to a mad-man." Raising his eyes up, he took a step towards his elder, his face set in an unreadable expression. "But not this time, Tatsumi. We did nothing when the Master killed his sister and brought him into this, though we both vowed our fates wouldn't be known to another. We did nothing when he broke him. We sat there like good little puppets and kissed the hand that killed us, loving the fact that we suffer for the eternal guilt of kin slayers. Not anymore." He finished flatly, turning back to the coffin and gripping his fingers around the hinge of the lid. "I can't save them all. I couldn't even save myself, but if I can save just one, than maybe, just maybe, I'll stop wearing chains in my dreams."
Tatsumi said nothing. Watari hadn't expected him to. But he also didn't move to stop him as he struggled with the coffin lid, finally opening it and sending it crashing to the dirt covered ground. The back side of the lid was covered with deep ruts, carved by the nails of its captives.
The sight was truly horrifying.
All of the Master's fledglings were created in the same abusive, but overall, strengthening manner. Yet Tsuzuki wasn't nearly as gifted as the others, showing no great power or call of his own. He was still so human, still had so many emotions that any Gifts he may have received were lost under the turmoil of his mind. In times of great stress, they would manifest in powerful and frightening ways, but they were like flames, consuming him along with whatever had provoked him.
Watari could have been drained and locked in a coffin, not much worse for wear, nothing that a few feedings couldn't have fixed. Tatsumi wouldn't have looked more than slightly pale by the punishment, probably refreshed and stronger for the rest. It would have taken decades for either of them to reach this stage.
The amethyst eyed vampire before them wasn't more than flesh pulled tightly against bone. Tendons and veins stood out against the skin like cords on display. Angelic, sharp features only made him look more like a skeleton. And why the smell wasn't overpowering, it was faint and lingering, like prolonged death.
There was movement from behind him as Tatsumi stepped forward. He paused next to Watari, his face the unreadable mask it always was. If he was upset by the sight, his voice gave no hint, it was only soft whisper of some vague emotion. It was possible he had been a great speaker in life, able to stir the soul with such a voice, otherwise it would never have been possible to chill the blood without ever speaking above a murmur.
"He'll need to feed. I'll take care of him. You go help the boy. Warn him and get him as far from here as possible. Use your animal familiar. The Master won't be able to sense your Gifts."
"Why are you helping?"
The taller man never paused to answer the question. He leaned down and wrapped his pale fingers into the crumpled material of his friend's clothing. With a soft and fluid motion, he pulled forward, lifting Tsuzuki and taking him into his arms. -God, he's so light. Barely more then the cloth that covers him.-
Tsuzuki's body reacted to the heat, even if his mind was still shut away in memories. Reaching weakly, his hand searched for the closest of Tatsumi's arm, his fingers brushing against the flesh. Even so near to a coma, he could feel the steady, slow pulse of the warm blood there. With a faint moan, his fangs gashed tightly together, hunger an unbearable pain. The weak grip against Tatsumi's arm nothing more then a child's as he tried to pull the flesh to his lips, not wanting to feed, but needing it.
Watching him with mirrored eyes, Tatsumi rested a hand against the back of the man's dark hair. Cradling his head against his broad chest and at the same time, moving the slightly opened mouth closer to the soft underside of his exposed arm. Not even the Master dared to feed on the Shadow Caller. For it wasn't past his power to destroy a mind, even the most powerful of them, with such a private connection of blood. Yet for this one, this tender, almost child-like, humanly weak vampire, he would allow it. Welcome it even. The dull surprise of realizing this did nothing to slow his actions.
Not yet and not here.
He turned away from the coffin, heading back into the shadows holding his precious quarry.
"Oi! Tatsumi, why? Why now?" The former scientist's brow furled in confusion, the soft hints of wrinkles against pallid flesh. In a few more decades, he'd lose even that tiny feature, his skin becoming as marble like as his elders.
The shadow master paused. With his back to Watari, the autumn haired man couldn't see the expression on his face, as he gazed to the broken man hanging nearly life-less in his arms. Years and years ago, the Master had promised the mauve eyed angel to him to Embrace, as a partner, as something to loosen the dark reaches of a soul that even someone like the Master thought cold.
Tatsumi had refused.
But they were all wrong, thinking he didn't wish to Embrace someone so child-like, so care free, someone that would probably be weak and need constant protecting, someone such a total opposite to his own austere personality. But that wasn't true. In this man, he had seen everything he had loved in life and couldn't taint it with darkness. He couldn't stop the Master, but he wouldn't be the one to kill him.
-I always have been selfish, so much like my Gift. Shadows steal their form from light, but I couldn't take yours, Tsuzuki. Instead, I choose to leave you alone in the dark, knowing the Master wouldn't just leave you. The sin would be done and I turned my back to it. I'm such a coward.-
"You don't have time for questions, Watari. The Master left at dusk. Seek the balm for your soul and I shall seek mine."
The shadows rose up from the ground, seeping from the walls until a thick pool of spectral black covered the pair, vanishing as was his style. Where he would take the man, Watari didn't know.
"Tatsumi." He said in hushed tones. -Was there anyone here that didn't end up stained by the dark blood?-
Turning, his white coat flared out behind him like wings and with the same unnatural stealth, was gone.
The crypt darkened into full night. The only light source came from a small cross-shaped window, casting a pool of crimson moonlight onto the broken casket, like the foreboding kiss of some forgotten god.
-What starts in blood, will end in blood.-