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Post by Khallayne on Oct 10, 2006 22:49:58 GMT -4
Esaraem couldn't help but watch him for a moment, his emerald eyes dull, almost lifeless as he looked upwards, staring the man in the face, wondering if any of this was truly real. He couldn't see how he would have survived so long… How Xaetrix would have allowed him to survive so long? But those thoughts drifted from his mind rather quickly as he noticed that the pale figure behind him was following him. He knew better than to test the female's patience. Safe to say that he had learned that lesson from one too many harsh experiences. But he wasn't bothered by that fact. He wasn't bothered by it at all. It merely told him that he was still alive. That each breath he took would mean that he would be able to take another one somewhere down the line, and that that other breath wouldn't destroy him. But all those thoughts didn't really matter, did they? He should have known as much as he allowed his foot to be placed upon the ground, hearing the faint tap of one of his claws. A flinch crossed through his body faintly as he held one chest under his arm. The mistake of sound was quickly corrected, however, and he made sure that not a single echo escaped his gentle padding. There were too many monsters out there all ready; he needed not more to be attracted to him.
Yet, as the continuous walls continued to pass him by, the endless glow never ceasing, the demon couldn't help but peer over his wing at the vampire following him. He had no idea what kind of race that creature was, but just by the look of it, he had a feeling that this would be another one of Xaetrix's cruel jokes. That she wanted him to merely allow the other in his life, and try and get him out of here only to be hurt. For all he knew, this man could be a male temptress. He wouldn't put it passed the necromancer to try something like that on him. But what was he to do if this man was truly a prisoner, much like himself? He doubted that he would be able to even help him out much, and he wouldn't prove to be too good at keeping company. Who wanted to spend their time with a mute? He doubted that anyone would want to try and understand him, try and communicate with him in any form. Besides, he wasn't worth it… He knew that much. He had no escape from this place, and he was at the certain point, that he didn't feel like escaping anymore.
But he merely continued forward, each step brining him deeper into the castle, but he merely guided them to a quiet room that was harder to notice within the wall, walking into the dimming light faintly as he opened the door, leading the other into his room. It was large enough to say the least, and, yet, it seemed empty. A rather large bed rested against one end of the room, a dresser in the corner. Upon the walls an odd sort of weapon rested there, a sort of chain mail of sorts, that didn't seem made for the human body, but, it was covered by the so called dresser, so that it would be out of sight, out of mind. Or, at least, that was what he was trying to convince himself of doing, but he had no idea how well any of it had worked. It was still alive, and that was all that mattered.
Still he glided upon the ground as he went towards a table near the wall, placing the chest upon it and allowing the keys to fall into his hands, the sound of the rattling surprised him as his eyes widened in their innocence. He hadn't heard such a loud sound in so long, it seemed. But, he didn't hesitate as he approached the other, kneeling down gently as he slowly unlocked the shackles upon his feet, the faintest of frowns upon his face. Gently he placed a clawed hand against the man's ankles, silently looking at the lock, and the keys before placing one inside the slot, giving it a gentle twist and pulling the hindering metal away from the man. And still in one graceful movement, he was upon his feet, looking the vampire in the eyes as he stared at him, wishing that he could find some way to make the man escape.
If only Esaraem knew that he was dealing with a vampire as he placed his hands gently upon the man's wrists, staring at the keyhole once more as he lowered his head and looked at the keys in his hand. Swiftly nimble fingers untwined the keys from one another, choosing the one that appeared to fit best in the hole and unlocking the shackles with that key. Yet, while his hands were busy taking off the shackles and chains, the demon's wings rose towards the man's face, pinions easily catching within the muzzle as the sharp bone tore the leather, allowing the man more freedom, with his speech, and, unfortunately, with his fangs. His lack of knowledge was what was dooming him as he merely stretched his arms towards the other's neck, taking away the chains and the collar upon the vampire's neck once more. Evading the man's gaze all the while, he took a step back and without even thinking about the dangers of doing so, turned his back to the man, bringing the chains and shackles towards the chest, and gently placing it upon the table.
Had he known anything about vampires, Esaraem would have never turned his back on one.
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Post by Firey - Khay's Slave on Oct 11, 2006 19:24:08 GMT -4
Despite the fact that the Vampire’s mind was becoming a little one-tracked through lack of blood, something broke through and made a rather large impact on the man. It was completely quiet, or almost. Correction, the demon was completely silent, which was disturbing in itself. When one becomes used to hearing something move, even if it was a mere pin falling to the floor quite a ways away, the absence of sound made one think that one had gone deaf. Except that the white one had tapped the floor with a claw, but only the once. Izailen had not heard it again as they walked down hallways and turned corners. He watched the other, noting the flinch. In his current state, the Vampire wasn’t about to go wondering what was wrong with the other, or if there was something that he should be wary of, as the demon seemed to be. No… He cared not. He had only one thing in mind, and it was most certainly not of what surprises could be lying in wait for him to discover.
As emerald green eyes peered back at him, bright orange ones stared right back. Hmm… what to do with the lot he had been given…? Perhaps the woman would stay dead if he tore off her head. That was, after he’d finished his business with the white-winged one. Oh, he knew that his ‘mistress’ was as undead as himself, but, if he was lucky, she was of the kind that stayed dead once killed. A second time, that was. However, given the Vampire’s luck thus far, his chances were zip to none. All the same, his silent guide, and ‘companion’, proved to be more and more tempting as time went by. What would the demon’s blood taste like, anyway? Certainly, it would be quite different then human blood, but would it prove to be better?
Entering the room that he was lead to, Izailen paused, and looked around at the place. It was used, that much was for sure, but it seemed to be empty for a chamber of its size. It wasn’t until he felt the chain begin to tug at the collar at his throat that the man moved forward once more. He could feel his muscles tensing slightly in anticipation of the removal of the shackles, or the promise of sustenance. He stopped once more, though this time only because his shepherd had stopped, and watched as the other went through the keys and went about freeing him on the cursed chains. The ones on his ankles fell away first, the ones on his wrists, and as the demon removed his collar, the muzzle was removed as well. However, the manner in which the muzzle had been removed caused the man to flinch slightly. Finally! He was free of the thing! He stretched his jaw downward, bearing his fangs unintentionally, but, seeing as his mouth had been forced shut for such a long time, he didn’t care. Not to mention that he had the feeling that those fangs of his would be closing on something soon enough.
The Vampire couldn’t have asked for a better chance as Esaraem turned his back to him. What an idiot! One would think that one would know better than to turn their back to a starved Vampire! Then again, it was, after all, to his advantage, so, he wasn’t about to complain about the follies of the other. Izailen, eye glinting, quite literally pounce on the other’s back, – merely to be sure that he actually got to the neck, seeing as it was from behind – fangs bared, and clamped them down on the other’s neck, one arm up against the wing to take the brunt of the blow if he were to be struck with the wing, while his other arm wrapped around the chest, holding the demon against his own body. As the first of the blood came to him, Izailen began to get a little carried away in the headiness of it. It was exotic, potent. There were so many things in the blood that he could not identify, yet there were also components like magic and sheer power in it as well. Not to mention that the taste of it was quite unlike anything he’d tasted before, but in a good way.
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Post by Khallayne on Oct 11, 2006 20:02:28 GMT -4
Esaraem had noticed how the other one had looked at him, but, in truth, he really didn't know how to respond to it. He was merely getting bad vibes that the other was considering him more as a meal than anything else. He didn't like the look that the vampire was shooting his way. He didn't understand it. And very rarely did Esaraem not understand someone's body language. Of course, that was merely because he had had too much experience trying to stay quiet most of his life, and he had needed to learn how to react to other people and get his meaning through when he had actually lost his voice. Not that it mattered much, but there wasn't much else that he could do. Besides, it wasn’t as though he needed his voice much anymore. He never had anyone to speak to until now. And even now, he doubted that the person that he was supposed to take care of would be of much help. He simply didn't strike him as the talkative type. Instead, he was certain that he was going to get on the man's nerves. Or, even better, disgust the man beyond belief. There wasn't much else that he could do. If one took one close look at him they would be disgusted. He was nothing but a slave, a low and dirty slave. Others couldn't see anything other when they looked at him. He highly doubted that they would even want to see anything else. Not to mention that he was different than most…
He had cut off those thoughts when he had turned his back to the vampire. Of course, doing so wouldn’t have been a problem with any other race. He would have only moved for a mere moment and would have turned back around, but he didn't have much knowledge concerning the world outside of Valdair. He didn't know that there were creatures that were actual 'living' humanoids that feasted upon blood. He didn't know the signs of hunger, and, so, he had merely placed blind faith in the man. And had he known that that blind faith would have gotten him no where, he wouldn't have even turned away from the man. He wouldn't have trusted him in the least. But… It wasn't in Esaraem's nature to not trust someone. He needed to trust in others, even if only for a moment. He was a creature that longed for comfort, for security, certainly things that he lacked in this place. But that mattered little as he finally reached the table, placing the shackles down upon it. The man wouldn't want to get to know him… He was nothing but scum.
It was at that moment that his instincts flared open, but he couldn't help but wonder what could make him tense up so much. However, he got the answer even before he turned around. In mere instants he felt a cold body press up against his bare one, an arm go down upon his wings, stopping their movement as his chest forced them against his back. And, then, the pain started. A large searing pain started in his neck as he felt something pierce the skin. His mouth opened in a silent yell as he tried to rush forward, away from whatever had grabbed him. But an arm was wrapped around his torso, stopping him, holding him against the other's body in a silent, yet deadly embrace. This didn't make much sense at all. How was he supposed to survive when all he felt was fear rushing through him in endless waves?
He wanted to cry out, but not a single sound escaped his throat as he tried to do so human a sound. Yet gentle whimpers vibrated through his vocal cords as he felt panic rushing through his very core, blinding him, freezing him in place. Tremors rushed through his body, holding him to where he was, stopping him from moving. At least, it would have, until he felt his life draining from him, and caught sight of the person he was supposed to protect feeding off of him! The white demon tried to yell out at the injustice as he squirmed, thrashing faintly as his clawed hands came upwards, gripping the other's arm. His spine arched at the pain, ivory claws easily piercing through the flesh as he ran them along the man's arm, trying to make him stop. But the demon could only feel the feeling of his life being drained, and it scared him to think of it. It scared him to think that he could drop dead at any moment.
Stop! Please… stop! He cried out in his mind, but the words wouldn't reach the other man as he felt his breath catch in his throat. How pathetic he felt? He was a toy once more, someone's play thing… someone's torturous amusement. His emerald eyes closed, glimmering with silent tears. Certainly this was going to be his death; this was going to be his freedom from this hell… But at the same time, he didn't want to die. He didn't want to be the one that was going to lose his life this day. He wasn't ready to merely give up yet. But the pain wouldn't stop ravaging his body as his grip upon the other's arm tightened, his claws easily tearing through the muscle, only to touch the bone. But his claws didn't even try to break the arm that held him. For at that moment thoughts rushed through his mind. He could be one of Xaetrix's pets… Another one of her creatures! Silently he pulled back his claws faintly, silent whimpers rushing through his body as he continued to shake. But his grip was kept upon the other's arm, his claws held within the muscle as he felt his energy start to give out. Never had this happened to him before. Never had he had to face such a feeling as his life being stolen from his body. Yet, if this was Xaetrix's pet, he couldn't fight back… she would harm him. It was over… He could only hope that this man wouldn't torture him when he was near death also. He knew that this must be his finish… Why else would she send someone so cruel at him? Someone that had appeared to be so human? False hope… It was all that it was… False hope that he would have a companion…
As those thoughts rushed through his mind, the demon merely allowed himself to lean against the vampire, despair hidden behind ivory lids as his wings went limp upon his body. He was meant to die…
Ooc: Over wrote it anyone? XD!
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Post by Firey - Khay's Slave on Oct 14, 2006 15:31:51 GMT -4
As the other tried to rush forward, the Vampire merely griped the demon to him all the tighter, unwilling to simply let him go. At least, not unless forced! He had half expected to hear a shout of some sort, but, when the other made none, Izailen was not about to complain. If he wanted to remain quiet, it was his choice, though why anyone would wish to be silent in a situation such as this made no sense to the Vampire. Then again, he could make much sound himself, not with his mouth pressed against the white demon’s neck and his fans buried in his skin, leeching the blood from him. He could feel the other’s reaction to the pain that he inflicted on him, to the fear that was becoming so evident, and heard the faint whimpers that escaped the other, that had been freed into the air for any who cared to listen.
Feeling his victim beginning to tremble, Izailen could have smirked had he not been otherwise occupied. Why did they all seem to become so pathetic when they got to this point? It was as if the mere thought of themselves dying was enough to cause them immeasurable pain and anguish. However, as his prey began to squirm and thrash about in an attempt to free himself, the Vampire growled softly in annoyance, biting down harder, causing his fangs to bury themselves deeper, and even to the point of leaving teeth marks of his other teeth as well, though not in the sense that they, as well, had broken the skin. The growl, though, turned into a grunt of pain as Izailen felt claws slice the flesh on his arm, and he gasped silently, holding on determinedly. Oh, he knew he would be paying for this later, but it mattered not; he would rather a decoration on his arm than the near insanity the consumed his race when they were deprived too long of what they needed to actually live, and not merely exist.
When the demon saw fir to stick his claws into the Vampire’s arm after slicing it, the man uttered a muffled cry, a sound that began somewhere in his throat and so obviously carried more pain than before. As he continued to gulp down the blood that he was, apparently, fighting for, he felt that he couldn’t use his arm to hold the other to him anymore, that he was nearly physically incapable of it at that point. So, he merely left it there in the other’s clutches, and quickly moved his other arm around so that it accomplished the same task, seeing as it was now wrapped around the other’s chest as well. Hopefully, that one would not be beaten up as badly as the one that was sliced and diced. But he wondered why the demon hadn’t gone farther than the bone, as painful as it was. Izailen knew that the demon could have quite easily broken his arm, or torn it off, judging by how easily it was damaged. Just what was stopping him? It certainly wasn’t he Vampire!
As his intended victim lean back against him, Izailen stumbled slightly, beginning to feel dizzy. He couldn’t be sure if it was the near starvation state he was only just beginning to get out of, or if it was the demon’s blood. It got so much worse so quickly, the that man’s legs were giving out as he removed his teeth from the man’s neck, blood dripping down his chin. His world was spinning out of control, and his head was pounding, along with everything else. He wasn’t even sure when he had actually hit the cold, stone floor, dragging the other down with him.
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Post by Khallayne on Oct 14, 2006 22:05:01 GMT -4
Esaraem knew he was trapped as soon as the other had tightened his arms around him. He knew it with all his life that he wasn't going to escape from the vampire now. However, it didn't stop him from trying to tap into his inner magic, his body shooting incessant tremors through his lithe frame with every passing second. How much hurt did one have to go through before someone finally decided that it was enough? How much pain and capture did one being have to suffer before it would all be over? How much more disgusting would he have to become before everyone would simply leave him alone? Wasn't it enough that he was scum now? Wasn't it enough that he had been defiled and hurt in ways that he had never thought possible? Was it enough that he was a fallen guardian, torn from his home, from his planet, from his very life and stripped bare to the soul until he could only see the truth about his ugly miserable being? It seemed that it wasn't… it seemed that it would never be enough for him to think himself free of it all… He didn't wear shackles; instead he had to carry his own weight everywhere. His being was his shackles, the truth about himself his cage… He was nothing but a useless being that didn't even deserve the rank that he had now.
He had heard the sounds of pain, he had heard the annoyance from the other, and, yet, it didn't do anything to him. He barely registered them as his mind started to shut down, ice blue lashes slowly covering dead green eyes as the faint light within his gaze started to ebb away, drifting farther and farther out of his control. He could still feel his arm wrapped around him, taking away his life, taking away his resolve to fight as his wings slowly started to droop downwards. No longer would his energy support the large white things that clung to his back. No longer would he be able to keep his wings up to protection as much of his strength left him. If only he knew how to react to everything. However the other's muffled cry caused his mind to stir faintly, keeping him clinging to life, away from the thought of death. But the vampire's fangs pierced his neck deeper, the man's other teeth marking against his flesh, threatening to tear his skin. Once more his mouth opened up in a silent cry of pain, and, once again, not a single sound was uttered as his wings gave way the pain, twitching spasmodically, only a gentle vibration sound that showed his self-control, but the motion stopped soon enough, his energy ebbing away from even that small movement.
Despite the fact that the vampire's hold upon his neck was great, when the vampire brought his other arm around his chest, Esaraem couldn't help but feel reminded of a soothing embrace that he would no longer feel. Pain wracked him from the inside as he felt water start to gather beneath his closed eyes. It was a pain that he hadn't felt in ages, the piercing pain that could only come with the loss of friends and family, the loss of life. They were all dead, everyone that he could have hoped to meet again… destroyed by Xaetrix, killed in Valdair. And, yet, still he survived, still he strived to live. It just wasn't fair… Forgive me Setheus… Forgive me father… I no longer have the will to fight my fate… I should have perished in your places. Instead, life was wasted upon a wretch like me… his mind shot out the words as he felt the coldness of the other's arm upon his bare chest. Still, he could feel warmth starting in the man's limb as he fed upon his blood, devouring his very life stream. His claws started to loosen their hold upon the man's skin, his grip merely the gentle feather light touch of a memory of life… A memory that wasn't important, one that would soon vanish, for that was all Esaraem would ever be: A memory of the past, a memory that people wouldn't even care to remember. He was nothing besides the ghost of a person that no one could ever remember.
However, his mind registered the thought of the man's fangs being retracted from his neck. No! He heard his heart cry out at the fact that he was still alive. No… please… Just finish me off now… Don’t torture me more… He thought as the tears slowly started to fall down his pale cheeks, yet the crystal water never touched the other's arm…
Before he knew it, he was falling. To him, it felt as though he was floating to the ground, his body being dragged downwards by the man's arms as they cradled around him in his mind. He knew he was merely being held for the other's easiest grasp, but it didn't matter. His back arched faintly as his legs gave way beneath him, dragging him downwards. He felt the touch of the other's chest always upon his back and wings, the constant reminder of his near-killer being the one holding him… The constant reminder that happiness wasn't going to find him here, that hope would forever be an alien emotion to him.
Jerked out of his thoughts by the impact of his body against the man's, Esaraem opened his eyes faintly, turning his head as he peered into the ageless face of the vampire. His eyes were partly opened, dead, lifeless, and, yet, never had they been so vibrant, so light, and mysterious a color as they were now; sun kissed green. How pained did his gaze seem as the thought that his being was resting against the other, that he was going to sully the man simply because he had touched him? A shuddered breath traveled through his body as he watched the man's closed eyes. Another moment of pain touched him as his mind threatened to black out, leaving him in a shroud of darkness… However, before that happened, he silently pushed himself out of the other's arms, trying to lift himself off the ground to scurry backwards and failing miserably as his arm gave out under him. So his position had changed, but that look of constant sorrow and pain didn't leave his visage as he rested upon the ground near the vampire, one arm curled under his head and chest, while his other hand was resting ever so gently upon the vampire's arm, showing of his effort to move… An action that he couldn't even accomplish. He didn't even have enough energy to lift his other arm away from the man as his wings hung limp, spread out around him, part of the white sail covering the vampire, the other have partly curled upon his back, showing the lack of strength.
And slowly his eyes started to close, his mind shutting down with his body. Even though that didn't stop him from shooting one more desperate look at the vampire, a plea for death… A plea for a quick escape from this life. He was finally learning how foolish he was to try and survive through all this. He was finally learning what it was like to die in mind, and be forced to walk around in body.
And even when he was unconscious, seemingly sleeping, pain, sorrow, and despair were still wracked upon his features. Even in the oblivion of rest, he had no relief from the emotions that troubled him.
Not even when his world was covered in darkness could his tortured soul appear soothed or mended.
Eternally he was to be a being meant only to live in agony.
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Post by Firey - Khay's Slave on Oct 16, 2006 20:51:21 GMT -4
Somewhere in the Vampire’s mind, the fact that he was wedged between the floor and the demon registered. The impact of the fall was as lost on the man as the fact that he was lying on the ground, his arms still around his ‘victim’. Everything just seemed to hurt, everything was spinning out of control, hence the closed eyes, and he felt, to put it simply, ill. It was something that Izailen had not experienced in much longer than he cared to remember, when an illness would have had an affect on him, along with the chill embrace of something not living, and the little things that happened in everyday life. He couldn’t say that his existence, before his coming to stay in Valdair for who knew how long, was better than what a mortal might live, but he could most certainly see the negative aspects of it. Days easily turned into weeks, months, years, and it would sometimes seems like a mere instant, a blink of an eye. Would that apply here? In a place where there didn’t seem to be any light, a place where the white demon roamed, a place where things that shouldn’t happen did? Who knew…? But one thing that the Vampire did know was that ceaseless throbbing in his head, and the sensation in his limbs that seemed to drain them of their strength, was not a good thing. Far from it. Izailen did not really even notice that the demon had moved, at first, but he became aware that the pressure on his body had lessened, that a weight had been moved. He made a low sound, one that seemed to start somewhere in his throat, and dared to open his bright orange eyes, but shut them almost immediately. He needed something to focus on, something that wouldn’t move in unending circles. The man turned his head a bit, and opened his eyes once more, his gaze falling upon an unconscious white being whose arm still rested on his own, and wing covered his body somewhat. Well, at least he had passed out! The Vampire wasn’t as lucky, it seemed! The demon would more than likely die, at this point, if he was already passed out, not that that bothered him any. People died every day; he just so happened to be one of the causes, in some cases. Still, the question remained: What I the world was in his victim’s blood that was having such an effect on him? True, there were things in the fluid that he couldn’t identify, but… Had that wretch of a woman done something? It was a possibility. She would have known what state the Vampire was in; she would have known that he had intended to feed. What else did she know? Or… think she knew? Sure, Izailen thought her something of a madwoman, seeing as she had… rejoiced at the sight of death, but she was odd, to say the least, not to mention that she wasn’t exactly alive, in the full meaning of the word. She was something akin to him, but he knew for certain that she was no Vampire. She was an undead of a different sort. Did she seek to simply render him helpless the first chance she got? If one were to follow that train of thought, had she somehow infused something in the demon’s blood? He didn’t doubt that she was capable of doing something out of the ordinary. Hell, he didn’t know what she could do!
All through his tedious ponderings, seeing as it wasn’t exactly easy to concentrate enough to have coherent thoughts, Izailen lay there, staring at the demon. The white one was an enigma. An unconscious person would seem asleep, as he did now, but there was something in his expression that was odd. Not that the Vampire truly gave a damn, but it was almost as if there was something in it that spoke of events that had taken place here, of things that someone should never experience. While Esaraem’s eyes were now closed, Izailen’s seemed sort of weak, drained, though they still retained their normal coloring. His gaze was tired, questioning, and a bit accusing, as well. He would have to ‘tell’ the woman what he thought of her little games. Would he have the chance, though? He knew not what she might try next, or even if was any of her doing, though he the thought stuck in his mind that she did. True, it could have merely been chance, that it could have been something natural in the demon’s blood, but how likely was that? How likely was it that there were, indeed, creatures out there, somewhere, that could render a Vampire helpless with their blood? Not that his race were above all the rest, or anything, but it just didn’t seem probable unless there was some component in someone’s blood that wasn’t natural to their being.
Seeing as sitting up wasn’t exactly an option at the moment, Izailen settled for trying to roll onto his side, but who knew how that would turn out… He may simply only accomplish wasting more energy, and throwing his world in motion once more. Yeah, he knew that the latter was more than likely, seeing as he was trying to move, but it was almost guaranteed that it wouldn’t remain that way. With a faint grunt, the man managed to turn on his side, even if it was a bit of a struggle, seeing as he was still partly covered with the demon’s wing sail, as thin as it was, and he had his eyes screwed shut as a precaution. Feeling somewhat ill was… well… not one of his favourite things to rediscover. He lay there for a few long moments before he let his gaze fall on something, his damaged arm this time. It was bleeding, that much was expected, but what the Vampire could see of the wounds seemed shallower and smaller than what they had initially felt like, and Izailen wasn’t exactly what you might a sucker for pain.
Was he supposed to be dying, or healing?
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Post by Khallayne on Oct 18, 2006 19:59:38 GMT -4
Ivory lids covered the eyes that had once retained so much life as each breath tore through his body, barely audible as he fought for each moment of life that he had been granted farther than the biting. A subconscious part of him fought without a single moment of doubt. It fought for the life that he had been torn away from, the life that he had been born into where everyone was always laughing and smiling, and though life was hard for the creatures, they had continued to strive forever, it would seem. They never stopped living the life that they had desired to live. Not for one moment had that life been tainted with doubt. Living had been something that they had been good at. Something that they fought for each and every single day, and he doubted that they would have stopped either. However, now, each breath was a struggle as the blood tried to regenerate in his body. He felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into his weakened state, one part of his mind abandoning the fight, seeking death, praying for the end of the agony and torment while the other continued to fight, seeking life, and in its first breath, to enjoy it. Hell had to end at one moment or another, and if someone could still continue to live, it shouldn't be that bad. There had to be an end to it all, one moment of happiness within this place, a moment of utter joy…How much false hope could one being take until everything crashed down upon it? Certainly life was worth its many joys, but what happened when knowing that death would be one's only solitude, that peace would never truly arrive. It hadn't been something in the demon's life for so long, that it was starting to become as though it had never existed. The demon's existence appeared bleak, and, yet, he still had never fully given up the battle. Nothing had ended in his mind. The fight was eternal.
Images started to flow through his mind, and even inside his thoughts he felt himself cringe away, try and stop them from flowing within his mind as he felt the pain and torture rush through his being. Mental shackles were locked upon his wrists, chaining him to the ground, chaining him within his mind as he fought against everything that he was, wanting to sink lower into death… He only wanted to stop breathing. And, yet, shackled were thrown upon his wrists, holding him to the wall as the darkness that would lead deeper into death flowed pass him. He couldn't chase it; he couldn't even go near it. When he tried to move, he felt his movements limited to the length of the chains as his wrists connected roughly against them. Once more, he couldn't do anything as he felt himself fall to his knees, curled up near the wall. Tears streamed down his face, locking his emotions, blocking his mind as he continued to stare out into the darkness, yearning for its oblivion as he felt himself slowly start to regain life. Felt the feeling of the ground beneath him lock within his conscience. However, it was this exactly feeling that he chose to run from whenever he could get the chance. For with this feeling, emotions were most certain to start to come back and haunt him once more, memories, a plethora of memories that he yearned to no longer see. No torture could result in the pain that he felt when he viewed these memories, but his mind always brought them back when he thought he could forget. He never had a single moments rest from this living torture.
Slowly the images got clearer within his mind as it slowly brought back the shrilling cries of the people of his planet that morning so many ages ago. Screams soared through the sky, its sounds echoing through the whole place as he remembered the feeling of rushing out of his room, his bare feet skidding against the black diamond with each step that he took. Not a moment was missed as he looked outside a window, the sight of a million creatures falling from the sky. Black rain. The rain of death. He knew not what it had been at the time, but now he did. It had been the first time that he had seen her, the wingless being standing upon the back of a snake like creature that hovered in the air. His people were suffering down below them, and even as he ran out of the room, the images of his family were only faint flickers of a shadow, sometimes a hint of a color. He knew that words had been cried out. He knew that something had been said that night, however, no sound reached his ears as he felt a sob shudder through his body, attacking his core. He hadn't been able to bring their memories back for years now. Not even the visages of his loving mother would come to his mind. He knew that she should be before him, but he couldn't remember her features. He only remembered the events.
And even as the shadow image wrapped its arms around him, bringing the faintest recollection of a memory of the feeling came to his mind, her face started to appear, only to be pulled farther and farther away as the image started to drain away, as though someone had pulled the plug. Slowly the scene changed; within his arms he held a white figure. The albino was also being stolen from his memories as the necromancer pulled away every single little haven that he would be able to create. The man had died within his arms, he remembered the scene, remembered the blood that had flowed across the ground from the wound upon his head and stomach. He remembered the way the light in the other's eyes had faded slowly as the albino had tried to keep consciousness, clinging to the demon with the feeble strength that he had had left. He could see the man's lips moving, but not a single word had been uttered that day. Not one could have been uttered, nor were they needed, Esaraem had known that Setheus had been trying to tell him goodbye.
He remembered the heart wrenching cry that had escaped through the air, a cry that he had only realized was his own when the man was dead within his arms. For the first time in his life, he had begged and prayed to the gods to save his friend. He had offered to grant anything to Xaetrix to heal the man, to bring him back. But nothing had worked, and he had expected as much. The warrior had died fighting a battle that shouldn't have been fought. Xaetrix had even been wary of the creature that had escaped one of her cages… And she had been the one to kill it, deeming it a failed experiment in the end, only after having told the demon to get his act back together, and to get rid of the body. He had never cried so much in his life as the memories of digging the grave came back to his mind. Each handful of dirt that his claws had kicked up had taken away a bit of the demon's resolve, had taken the demon's soul with it. In burying the albino that had been his only friend, he had buried himself with it, living the numb life for a while, until Xaetrix woke him up by bringing all his memories back, good times and bad, with the albino and his family, over and over again. Still the shackled man couldn't turn away as the images started to shift once more. Traveling down memory lane had never been his favourite pastime.
A tremor traveled through the man's wing a couple of hours later as tears started to clutter under the man's ice blue lashes as he took in a shuddering breath. Gently tears fell down the man's pale cheeks, showing his pain, his mental prison to all that would notice. And, yet, the hand resting upon the vampire's arm twitched faintly, slowly closing gently over the arm, his claws not even raking the skin as his hand loosened once more, and lost pale green eyes opened faintly. He felt lost, that was the only emotion that he could remember as the tears flowed freely through his being. His legs curled up to his chest for a moment as a silent sob rushed through his being. His head was tucked within his wing, trying to block out the memories of the people that he could barely remember… People who had meant so much to him were lost forever.
His green eyes slowly focused upon the vampire, and swiftly his gaze widened, causing the creature to retract his hand swiftly as his wing snapped to his back. In a blur of a moment he had pushed himself to his feet, skipping backwards as his wing pinions curled up around his neck, hiding his neck from the man's view. Esaraem's eyes narrowed faintly into a glare as he watched the other, slowly backing himself into a wall where he wouldn't be able to be attacked from the back again. He moved on his hands and feet, his leg muscles bunching faintly with each of the odd movements backwards. Fear glimmered within his gaze, a very large fear of the man; however, Izailen wasn't the only source of that fear. His world was spinning out of control, and he couldn't do anything about it. Without being able to resist, he crouched for a moment, holding his hands to his head as he closed his eyes once more, curling his wings across his chest, leaving only his head showing as his pinions locked together below his chin. Even though he knew that he needed a bit more rest, the demon allowed himself no such thing as powerful muscles rolled beneath the skin of his wings, forcing them a bit out to the side to take away the awkward position from his hold, and he watched the vampire, not blinking, or leaving his defensive position. Instead, he only watched, waiting for the man to try and attack him again.
And though he should want the vampire dead for hurting him, the demon couldn't help but wonder why the man hadn't taken advantage of his unconscious form. Why am I still…alive? [/color]
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Post by Firey - Khay's Slave on Oct 24, 2006 20:32:02 GMT -4
A couple hours had passed by, during which the Vampire’s gaze switched from his injured arm and the white demon. His arm, because it looked as if it was healing much, much faster than was normal for him, and that the skin around the edges of the wound was, well, white, meaning it was scarring. Izailen had gotten himself hurt many times in the past, and not once had his skin decided that it wished to heal white instead of it’s customary silvery gray color, or, as others may wish to call it, deathly pale. He was also watching the demon for the simple reason that he was waiting to see when the man would simply give up, and let go of what little life remained in his body. The signs of when a person did as such were not hard to miss, not to mention that the hand that still rested on his arm was still warm; it should be growing cold soon. As cold as his own body. A part of a lifeless corpse that would soon be forgotten in the unraveling fabric of time, except in the memories of those that knew him. If only he knew what kind of life the demon had lead, the Vampire would have known that death would have been a release, if the other had, indeed, died.
Even as he ignored the tears that fell from the demon’s eyes – who knew what was going on in the man’s mind! – Izailen felt the hand twitch, tightening a bit on his arm before loosening once more. Odd… how could the other be moving if he lay so near death? The Vampire’s jaw twitched slightly at the thought of the draconic-looking one having death throws. Now that would have been something that might have been a tad interesting to get out of… The memory of the pain from when the claws that rested on his arm came through his pounding mind, along with the amazement at the amount of ease that the other had demonstrated while giving him a rather unique decoration. Like a hot knife through butter… That was the only comparison that he could make. The faint sounds on the other moving, and then the sob, caught his attention, causing Izailen to look at the demon, even if it did take a moment to realize what the sound was.
Orange eyes looked into emerald ones, the reactions sluggish, almost as if drugged, and followed the demon of their own accord as he so swiftly moved from Izailen’s side to the corner. How did he… How did he get over there? He thought, finding it easier to keep his focus, even if it was still rather unsteady. He narrowed his eyes faintly, trying to figure out how in the world the demon could have moved, let alone with the speed he’d moved at! Completely disregarding the complaints of his own body, Izailen forced himself to sit up, leaning back onto his good arm while holding the other against his abdomen with a bit of a grimace on his face, feeling pain shooting through it with every little movement that he made with it. Well, at least he could move, now! But that was the odd part. Not two hours ago, perhaps a bit more – keeping track of time wasn’t a priority at the moment – he’d been unable to move for various reasons, but it all seemed to have faded somewhat since then. Still, the man doubted that running around, and whatever else he was expected to do in this place, would be an option for a few days. He still felt so damned weak, and he despised it.
"What are you?" He whispered after staring with confusion at the demon, trying to figure out how the other was alive, considering the amount of blood he’d lost. "You shouldn’t be alive…" He said after having paused for a few long moments, but his voice was the same as before: a mere whisper that lacked the usual strength and characteristics that it held. The Vampire’s head swayed a bit despite how much he fought for it to remain still, blinking tiredly. "Better yet, what did you do to me?" Came the next question in his query, almost sardonically. Yes, he knew that he’d been the one that had done the biting, but still. Those that seemed helpless could be the exact opposite, at times, and he was realizing that he should have taken precautions against that very fact.
Should’ve, could’ve, didn’t.
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Post by Khallayne on Oct 26, 2006 0:36:48 GMT -4
He felt the vampire's gaze upon him, and it was as though the man had hit him, for as soon as the eyes had followed him, his emerald gaze dropped to the ground, landing upon the cold tiles of the place while he felt a tremor of fear rush from one wing to the other, holding him within its grasp. He didn't know how he was going to react, or how he should react, rather. He knew not what he was going to do about the other. He was looking[/u] at him. Esaraem felt himself bare to the soul under the man's gaze, no matter how distant it was. He felt as though the other was going to strip him down, layer by layer, and see the creature that rested within him. The creature that he didn't show anyone… That creature had died ages ago. That creature hadn't survived all the battles that had been fought deep down within. It was shackled, and chained down; no longer a part of his being that remained in control. He had to hide it if he wanted it to live on. He knew that much, but it couldn't exist here, for it would only be taken from him, destroyed before his eyes. He seriously didn't know what was worst… Being tortured until broken, or giving up half way to save what piece of his soul he could save. All he knew was that he had done the latter, and whether it was doing him any good, no one would know. It was in this state that his eyes seemed to be alight with sorrow.
Please… Don't look at me… Don't watch and notice the disgusting wretch that I am… Don't give me the time of day, it isn't worth it. I've already been broken twice... I won't be able to handle a third time... Leave me to my fate, and walk away…
The thoughts rushed through his mind as he felt his shoulders slouch faintly, his defensive posture turning more and more submissive with each passing moment as his ebony hair fell before his forest colored gaze, hiding his eyes from the vampire. Trying to hide his very soul from the man, hoping that he wouldn't be able to see through, praying that his instincts told him differently, that the man couldn't truly see who he was inside, he didn't want that. He didn't want the man to be able to tell that he was a weakling; that he had given up everything. He didn't know if he could take hearing it once more, from someone else. He didn't know if his mind would be able to handle everything anymore. No… It wasn't his mind anymore… It was his soul. He had already been stripped down bare to the skin, his armor torn off of his wings, his stature destroyed for a woman's pleasure… However, his soul had never been touched, and, now, under this man's eyes… He could feel everything being torn away. His every sense of armor that he had being taken, stolen from him. He didn't get it, but he felt as though the man could see him as he truly was, could watch his bare soul flash before his eyes. He didn't even want to look in his direction.
Words reached the White Demon's ears, causing him to raise his head slowly and peer in the man's direction shyly from behind icy lashes and midnight hair. He could see the pain flowing through the other, but foremost, he could see the confusion within the man's eyes. The simple question caught him by surprise; the way that it was so simply said, the way that he seemed baffled. His voice was so soft, unlike other voices that he had heard, and despite the exhaustion, the man still fought to keep his conscience. How strong could someone get? He couldn't help but feel once more pathetic within this odd man's presence. It was as though he should be humble to be near someone so powerful… Yet, there was something about him that reminded him that the man was still merely a humanoid… And fragile humanoid compared to the grip of his claws. He knew that he wouldn't be able to answer the man's questions, he hadn't been able to say a word in years, so he didn't even try as he tried to hide the fact that he was peering at the other man.
Confusion… How easy an emotion to feel, yet such a complex thing to describe, the demon's eyes said it all as they watched, never wavering from the man's form. His wings were faintly spread out behind him, an ocean of white, his body bowed, his head lowered, his pinions hooked about his neck, and a weaker air however about him, yet still he looked at the other tentatively. Curiosity cackled and sparked within his gaze, bringing the gentle green to life once more with an inner fire as his head tilted ever so faintly. Intelligence, it also held its place within his eyes, but he spoke not a word as he listened intently, his senses reaching out towards the man with the ever soft voice. The man who was forced to show weakness to him upon first meeting him. Esaraem was quite sure that he preferred it this way, knowing that someone was only human before meeting them. But at the man's accusation, he lowered his head back to the ground, ashamed that he had even done something to the man. He hadn't wanted to scar his arm. He wouldn't have harmed him in any way had the man not attacked him! Yet, in truth, Esaraem was worried that the man was talking about his being. About how he had probably defiled and tainted the man just because the other had to touch him. He knew it to be true, but he always despised hearing the words. He knew it was coming…
It was then that his gaze, which spoke of so many things, filled with doubt, hope, fear, curiosity, attentiveness, wariness, confusion, guilt, shame, and a self-disgust fell away from the man's captive orange eyes. Eyes that reminded the demon of a morning sun glimmering over a lake's surface. His own gaze spoke so much of the white one. Nothing was left out from his face, if only words could form, if only he could explain to the vampire that he would never hear his voice, that he would forever have to be stuck with a pathetic mute… However, that wasn't going to happen, the vampire would have to figure it out for himself. He was nothing besides a dirty slave meant to forever be caught within the throes of servitude. That was it… He was nothing… Absolutely… Nothing…
Forever forgotten…
Forever damned… [/size][/color]
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Post by Firey - Khay's Slave on Oct 28, 2006 11:08:24 GMT -4
The Vampire watched the other’s strange behavior, wincing slightly as he tried to ignore his arm. It felt like there were both needles and daggers being repeatedly shot through it, but he was unaware of how much more it had healed since last he looked at it; the skin around it was stark white, and the wound itself looked shallower and shallower as the minutes passed by, slowly knitting itself back together. Safe to say that he figured that he’d have to do something about it eventually, but the man was more interested in the faint messages that the demon was giving off with every little movement he made that signified that he was becoming more and more submissive. Izailen, being Izailen, curled his lips faintly in disgust; no one should act like that! He could understand the defensive posture, but watching someone bring himself or herself that low just wasn’t right. He would have given the other a good tap upside the head if he was in any condition to do so, skittish or not.
As it was, the man simply kept his gaze on the other, becoming a bit more annoyed with the other’s actions, until the other peered at him with evergreen eyes, though half hidden behind ebony hair. Well, at least the demon wasn’t beyond merely glancing at him! Not to mention that he looked almost… curious, even if he said not a word. Odd. It was as if there were so many question, and perhaps answers, that could be said, but the white one refused to utter them. Was he so far gone that he thought that forming words was going to get him beat, or something? Of course, Izailen knew nothing of the kind of beatings one got in Valdair, the kind of torture, nor did he know that the demon could not speak.
At his last question, the other’s eyes filled with a multitude of emotions, too many for the Vampire to decipher in one glance, and they slid away once more. “You are an odd one.” Was all Izailen said, though it was more meant as a comment to himself, but that didn’t mean that the demon didn’t need to hear it. He was bemused by the other. The white one’s reaction to being bitten, once he had gotten past the fear, was not one of someone that had nothing left, no, it was too… strong. Too savage. Or, perhaps it was merely the demon’s instincts to survive that had pushed him to react. Either way, watching the other now, the man was quite puzzled by him. It was almost like… like the other was using submissiveness as a security blanket against the outside world, against anything that seemed threatening.
The man closed his eyes and shook his head faintly, cursing the fact that there wasn’t a wall behind him to lean on as he felt the arm he was leaning on tremble a bit beneath his weight. Why was he trying to figure the demon out? Well, the fact that the other was nearly dead and up and about now could have been a reason, but it shouldn’t have brought round the same level of attentiveness that he was now experiencing. Perhaps it was the fact the he had nearly killed the other. Nearly. And he was as alive as he had been when the Vampire had first seen him. A soft sigh escaped Izailen’s lips as he let his head hang back, not caring that he had exposed his throat to the other; the demon seemed as if he were far to afraid to come near him, so it didn’t matter.
Would that some of the people from his home could have had the same ability; to simply get up and walk away from a near-death experience. He knew he shouldn’t care about what happened in the past, that what was done was done, but though he tried to forget some things, he still held the guilt, the remorse. He’d lost control, then. In the past. Just as he had when the demon had turned his back to him. The man frowned slightly at the thought. He’d done it again. Would there ever be a time when he would be able to finally let go of it all? Probably not. The Vampire simply could not forgive himself for it, even if every time his self-control had vanished for the need of blood, something that was a necessity.
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Post by Khallayne on Oct 30, 2006 6:20:45 GMT -4
He could feel the other's gaze upon him as powerfully as ever. He knew that the man wouldn't release him from his attentive gaze until he had received some answers, or, so he was guessing. Not many people simply ignored the demon as he would have so highly desired many, many times. They continued to hold an interest in him. They continued to want him to speak to want him to do something, yet, when he had looked at, the man had practically been sneering at him! He felt a wince travel through his entire being once more. What had he done this time? He hadn't done anything wrong! All he had tried to do was to protect himself against whatever was to come. But, he still didn't move, merely kept his eyes upon the ground, though he couldn't help but peek upwards ever so faintly every now and again, looking at the other through a wall of hair and lashes. Not that he could see much when he was like this, but, it still gave him a general idea of what the man was doing, and if he would have to run away. Not that he wanted to. This was, after all, his room. His save haven. He wouldn't want to be kicked out of this place to live in the halls.
The annoyed look caused the demon to look back at the ground faintly, though internally, his warrior soul was smirking at the other. Yes, be annoyed. He couldn't help the thoughts as they passed through his mind. Though somewhere down the line, he yearned for comfort, for security, he had long ago learned that as soon as one tried to receive it upon this planet, it was to be taken away from you, instantly, without a single moment of hesitation. So, receiving that comfort was out of the question. He was finished with seeking for it. He was done with trying to grasp a hold of something that he would never be able to touch. It wasn't worth all the pain. It couldn't be worth all the pain of watching them die, and be tortured before his eyes. Someone else's pain and torture was not the price that they should pay because the demon got attached to them! Esaraem refused to even think about such things, for he knew it to be true. He had already lost them, he needed not lose anything else.
Words reached his ears causing him to look upwards again as he tilted his head a bit more, ebony hair falling to the side. The words had seemed more of a comment to the demon, and he was certain that the man hadn't been talking to him, despite the fact that he had said 'you'. It had to be something else. But what could the vampire be thinking about to make him utter such a comment? He certainly wasn't talking about his own being. Why would someone find themselves odd? It didn't make much sense, and Esaraem didn't want to dwell on the thoughts too much. It would only cause to him becoming annoyed for absolutely no reason. Something that should, could, be avoided at all costs. He didn't want to appear to be too bold. To appear to act as though he knew exactly what he was doing. His cover was not to be blown in front of anyone but the demon's in which he had to fight to survive. But at times he wondered if he was anything more than merely a walking corpse. He certainly didn't feel like anything else… Everything he had, had been torn away from him. He knew not what he had left, or why he was still fighting. He just was.
Esaraem shook his head at the other's words, wondering what the man meant, but utterly denying them. He wasn't odd. The vampire was odd! What kind of creature just attacked someone, and then tried to figure them out? It would be like killing someone and, then, pondering upon the fact if he was the one that someone should have killed or not. Save to say, it wasn't how someone should react at any time. But, there had been something savage about the vampire, a lack of control, or so it had appeared to the man. There was something in the way that vampire had looked at him that told Esaraem that he hadn't wanted to do what he had done. That he hadn't wanted to lose control. Perhaps it was the curiosity that the other was showing. However, being told that one should be dead was not the most reassuring of things, either. He preferred when such words wouldn't be uttered, but there was nothing that he could do about it. He merely preferred to see his life was it was now, in motion, than dead as a corpse.
When the vampire tilted his head back, the demon couldn't help but peer upwards. Not many creatures would do that when someone with razor-like claws and fangs stood before them. But, he didn't move, merely stood stock still. He could tell that the vampire was weary, yet the frown that crossed the man's lips aroused curiosity within the demon. It was as though he could almost see the emotions, the thoughts behind the man's fallen lids, but, for as long as he didn't open his eyes, he couldn't guess at anything. It wasn't as though one just opened their world to a stranger without many consequences. The vampire wouldn't show him emotions, he was certain of that. If Izailen knew what was good for him, he'd probably keep everything to himself. After all, it was the smart thing to do.
Still Esaraem couldn't help his curiosity, and the need to help others, to stick together, rushed through his being. Slowly he took a step forward, walking on all fours towards the man, though with every gentle movement his muscles would bunch, and tense. Without a sound he approached slowly, stopping himself just out of the man's arm reach as he fell still once more, looking at the vampire, green eyes glimmered with a faint tilt in his head. He was ready to jump back at any moment. He knew that he would jump back at any moment. And, yet, he couldn't stop himself from getting a bit closer. He had never met a creature like him before… And certainly the man would be better lying in a bed, than upon the floor! But whether the demon would gather enough courage to approach the man any further, he knew not. He could only wonder, with a certain amusement, what the man would do when he noticed that he had approached. For the demon was not ignorant to the fact that even he, one with such fined hearing, could not hear his own footsteps. This was going to be quite amusing, indeed.
Ooc: I need to stop writing such long posts![/color]
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Post by Firey - Khay's Slave on Nov 29, 2006 10:56:38 GMT -4
Unwanted memories flashed through his mind, blurred by time, and unused. It seemed as if the voices and faces were no longer there, but all the man would need would be to see their faces, whether in the flesh or in a mere picture, and it would all come back to him with disturbing clarity. He did not wish to remember them; he did not wish to know who they had been anymore. As he ignored the demon’s presence, a faint, wry smile curled the edges of his lips. Perhaps it was simply Fate’s cruel will that decided that forgetting would be too good for the Vampire, that the past should not be let to simply fall away into nonexistence. Either that, or he was trying to hold onto it while saying to himself that he would better off letting go. All the same, it was the way his life was, if one could call it life, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it, save ignore it. Just like he was ignoring his own pain, his surroundings, and the white one.
Still, he couldn’t be certain what had brought him out of his thoughtful state, whether it was the fact that his arm still felt aflame, or the fact that he knew he shouldn’t have left himself in such a vulnerable state. It didn’t matter. All the same, Izailen could feel the arm he was leaning about ready to give out, by this point, as bizarre as he still found that, so he merely pushed himself forward so that he would be leaning against his knees. Upon opening his orange eyes, however, the Vampire saw something that he didn’t expect to see, causing his body to tense, and jerk slightly to face the demon a little more. His eyes were once more upon the other, masked, calculating, though the only the set of his face had done nothing but clear the emotions that had begun to play across it, with the exception of a clenched jaw.
How did he get this close…? He thought. The other had been by the wall naught but a few moments before, and now he was by the man’s side, though out of his reach, all without a sound. That was impossible! Izailen could not remember one person who had been able to sneak up on him without a sound, taking him by surprise. Well… save one, but that didn’t matter here. What mattered was that if the white one was capable of being completely soundless, much like a Vampire could be, or more so, what else could he do? The man had already gathered that the claws and teeth were things to be messed with, and here he discovered that to hear the damned demon was something else altogether!
He looked at the other, whose head was tilted slightly, and narrowed his eyes faintly. The demon had done nothing yet except to defend himself, but Izailen doubted very much that he would be able to do anything against the other in his weakened state. Heck, he could barely support his own weight with one arm! He was helpless, and he knew it. Which was what made the situation all the worse. “What do you want?” He hissed sharply, though his current attitude was not really aimed at the demon. The Vampire was annoyed with himself for ignoring the other so much that he couldn’t keep track of where the demon was. Correction, for not being able to hear the other’s footsteps. He wasn’t quite ready yet to accept the possibility that he simply couldn’t hear that other, that though he’d let his guard down, somewhat, there had been nothing to detect.
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Post by Khallayne on Dec 10, 2006 13:45:38 GMT -4
Esaraem watched the man closely. He could see the weakness within the others arm as he tried t hold himself upwards, and only once he sat himself up against his knees did he actually settle faintly upon the balls of his feet, watching, waiting, anticipating what the other would do… How the other would react. However, he knew that he had to be ready for the worst. That the other could actually be faking the weakness and whip out at him without a moment of hesitation. That was the fact that he had to face. If the vampire was truly faking it, the demon was going to be coming out of this as a practically dead man. There would be no pity from one such as him, from one that had tried to kill him by draining him of all his blood. He didn’t want to face that feeling again. The feeling of utter helplessness that he had got when he was around Her other creatures. It was a feeling that had come to the demon one too many times, but something that he had learned to thoroughly withstand. If the vampire was set on harming him now, to weaken him beyond a point of healing, it would be his choice, and there was nothing that Esaraem could do about it. Nothing that he could bring himself the courage to use to defend himself…
When the man’s eyes snapped open, the demon tensed nearly at the same time as the other. His sudden movement caused the white one to take a step back; his wings ready to flare out at any given moment, ready to run to some sort of cover, of protection. He watched the emotions leave the man’s face, and watched the eyes turn upon him, the eyes of a predator, or a killer. That was exactly what this reminded the demon of. An ancient memory of hunting creatures that also hunted him in return. Knowing that his death was mere moments away, all he had to do was make one single mistake. But those thoughts didn’t stop Esaraem from staying where he was, and not react, if one ignored the fact that all his muscles bunched together, showing that he was ready to run away. He wouldn’t run. He knew better than to do so, especially not when someone was wounded.
He could almost read the other’s question in his eyes as he tilted his head within the other direction. But when the man’s eyes narrowed, the demon flinched visibly, crouching closer to the ground, cowering faintly in front of him. The hiss didn’t help anything. In fact, they made it worst. As soon as the menacing sound started to escape the creature’s lips, the demon dashed backwards, his back legs bunching awkwardly to propel him towards the wall, his wings flaring at the last moment to allow the demon some mobility, and the power to break his fall. But Esaraem didn’t do anything besides think of the words that the vampire had spoken, his arms curled in front of him, his head lowered towards the ground, wings sleek across his back, as he felt a tremor of fear run down his spine.
The context seemed entirely wrong to the demon, however. He knew that the man couldn’t have been speaking to him, or, at least, that the hiss hadn’t been directed in his direction. He hadn’t done anything wrong! Slowly he peeked upwards, midnight hair cascading into his eyes as he tilted his head faintly once more. Slowly he picked himself upwards, taking a few steps towards the other. He had to be careful, of course he did, he was in Valdair! But oddly enough, he didn’t get the feeling that Izailen was going to hurt him, or, at least, not yet. The man simply didn’t have that air around him, and the vampire didn’t feel the usual mind numbing coldness that he felt around strangers. It was the feeling that warned him against who to approach, and who not to approach. Though, he would have to stay clear of the fangs… The fangs hurt…
So, he approached once more, stopping again out of the vampire’s arm reach. Yet, this time, he walked around the vampire, or, rather, dashed around the vampire, a streak of white against washed-out gray walls. He stopped only when, if the vampire would look towards him, he would see the bed also. Slowly a clawed hand came upwards, pointing towards the man, then pointing towards the bed, hinting at the message that he wanted to get through. He knew that the man was hurt, and weak, but it would take a lot to make Esaraem walk up to him and just pick him up… Though, he may have to do that in the end, wouldn’t he? The man couldn’t even appear to hold his own weight, for crying out loud! Not that he should be one to comment… However, the white winged one knew that he would have picked himself up had he been in the same room as a stranger. It was just common sense when one was resting within Valdair. Seriously, didn’t the vampire know anything about this place? Or was he merely going to be stuck finding it all out the hard way?
Truth be told, Esaraem didn’t know which would be worst.
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Post by Firey - Khay's Slave on Jan 4, 2007 11:25:46 GMT -4
Although he was still cradling his arm, in a sense, the man found that it was becoming easier to ignore, and to keep his attention on the demon, though that didn’t mean that that in itself was an easy task. His mind seemed sluggish, along with the rest of him, meaning that it took more concentration than it should have to merely follow the other with narrowed eyes. Actually, if the man had cared to spare a glance at his injury, he would have found that most of it was healed, leaving, so far, a very shallow flesh wound; almost as if he had decided that he wished to remove just enough skin so that it was painful. But, alas, his gaze merely rested on the other; watching him flinch, then back away from him.
Was it just him, or did the demon seem… afraid of him? Not that he really blamed the other, seeing as he was a pathetic mess, at the moment, hardly something to be wary of, though he was loath to admit it. But, seriously, who in their right mind would be afraid of something that most likely would collapse the next time it tied to stand? Or perhaps the demon was simply so much a coward that he was skittish around every little thing that was ‘out of the norm’, or new to his environment. Look! Already, the white one was cowering in a corner with only a few words to send him there! Izailen sneered at him in contempt. He, himself, had more reason to be fearful than that… pathetic excuse for a wretch. The demon needed some backbone! Correction: a whole backbone put into him.
The sneer still lingering on his face, the man looked the other in the face as he peered through his midnight hair with a tilted head. He said not a word as the other picked himself up and slowly, carefully, approached him again, only to stop out of his reach once more. At least the demon wasn’t too much of an idiot, and knew to not get too close. But still, that was more like it! Although the other had taken the time to cower in his little corner, at least he didn’t let a few words keep him there, laced with malice as they were. Still, the Vampire couldn’t help but tense faintly when the other stopped out of his reach. The demon might not look like he wished to be a threat, but the man was no fool; caution had kept him alive through so many years, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away merely because someone appeared to wish to give him some sort of aid! Pessimism might not be a pretty thing to think about, but it always had you ready for the worst, and it never got your hopes up.
However, the demon did not stay in that one spot. The Vampire , had he not been watching the other, would never have noticed that the demon had dashed around him with an effortless grace that spoke of great speed. Great… not only was the demon silent, and had formidable natural weapons, he happened to be some sort of speed demon, as well! Just his luck. Well, that was, if his judgment had been correct, and he found himself half wishing that he hadn’t noticed.
Not wishing to let the other out of his sight, the Vampire had ended up turning somewhat, and watched the demon point towards a bed. So, the other wanted him in the bed, did he? Izailen saw no other reasonable option but to decline; he wasn’t interested in seeing if he could even get to his feet at the moment. “The floor is fine.” Was all he said, his voice no kinder than before. True, the floor might be more of an exposed place than Izailen would have liked, but there were too many possibilities to be associated with a bed. Blankets could easily be turned into makeshift ropes, and it didn’t help that he knew not what else the demon had in the room. Not to mention that the winged one may simply be putting up some sort of ruse. He trusted not the woman – over his dead body! – and he was not about to put blind faith in someone who was so clearly linked to the woman, even if it was as a slave. Masters with fearful slaves could make them do anything. Absolutely anything.
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Post by Khallayne on Feb 12, 2007 0:16:20 GMT -4
Under the proper light, of course the demon looked white as he did now. However, that color merely appeared pale for the simple fact that there wasn't enough light in the room to show the nearly permanent greenish tint upon his flawless skin. Where he had gained such colors was not to be inquired, for he knew that if anyone ever figured it out, they would think of him as some kind sick wretch, which he truly was, but the stains upon his skins weren't only visible upon his body, but they tainted his soul, his mind, his heart. They were the shackles that tied him to the walls of Valdair. They were the items that forever tormented him until he broke down, the memories that bared his soul, leaving him to be ravaged by anything and everything. He knew that he would have to live with the truth of everything, but it didn't mean that he wanted to do such a thing.
But, as the man declined his offer, his tone the same as the one he had just used, another flinch traveled through the demon's quivering frame as the young one peered upwards, green eyes partially closed in fear, pain, worry, and a selfless desire to help. So many conflicting emotions clashed within his gaze. It was a gaze that appeared to be much too powerful for one that was a slave. His eyes showed life, showed pain. They showed his story to anyone that could stare within his green gaze long enough to actually read the story. But, as he had always done, dark lashes folded downwards over emerald eyes as thick, dirty black hair fell in front of his face. Whatever courage he had gathered to actually gaze upwards vanished once more as he placed it back down within his heart's chained prison, blocking whatever resolve threatened to show. There would never be a need for it. That part of him had died ages ago.
Still, the pale green one looked up again at the vampire, his head faintly tilted. He didn't even bother to rush back towards the corner of the room that he had seemed to have claimed as his own. Something warned him that the vampire wouldn't even harm him. And whether he should listen to those emotions or not was a totally different matter. Yet, though the man had declined, the desire to help him remained strong. Not that he could do anything about it. He didn't even want to approach the other. There must be other options that he could look at. He wasn't to stand here, unable to help the vampire before him. He didn't want t be rendered useless once more, forced to watch as another decayed. Because, surely that was what was going to happen to this one too… He'd finally snap, or find a way to die, leaving him here, by himself, for all eternity, again. It would be a repeat of Setheus…
Oh how he missed the warrior that had aided him within his life in Valdair! Setheus wouldn't have allowed him to cower before anyone. He wouldn't have allowed him to stay silent, and to ignore the demands of his heart and soul. But, it had been those foolish follies that had caused the man to be six feet under, resting in a claw carved grave. And, truthfully, it was where he, Esaraem, belonged. The Albino hadn't been the one who was supposed to die, yet, at the same time; he knew that if it had been himself, the man would have to be here in his place. And he wouldn't wish that upon anyone. Not the woman who tortured him so, or the man that glared at him from his place upon the floor. It was only he, a demon, a slave, a wretch, who deserved such treatment. If only he could set the others free… If only he could have stopped Xaetrix from buying another slave, perhaps he would have been safe then…
The look that Esaraem shot the vampire was a sorrowed one. It held such pain, and fear. But, the fear wasn't for himself, but for the man sitting before him. One who would be forced to live here, unable to escape, and the pain, it wasn't because of his state, but, rather, for the fact that he hadn't been able to please Xaetrix enough to stop her from getting another slave… If only he had tried harder. But what had he done wrong? He had been listening to her – if one excluded the lack of a voice, since she did want him to speak – and he made sure to obey her every order. Apparently that hadn't been enough for her. Nothing would please her, it would seem. But why would someone want to please that witch? Oh yeah… Because Esaraem didn't want another one getting hurt.
Bowing his head ever so faintly, the demon took a few steps back before leaping across the room, towards the bed, stopping mere inches away from the object, barely daring to take a step forward. A tremor rushed through his body as memories ravaged his mind, tearing him asunder; however he calmly approached, knowing that the demons weren't in the room. They couldn't harm him anymore… He was safe, right?
Before his thoughts could force him to back down, he pulled himself up upon the soft material, stealing away two pillows, and pulling the sheets off of the bed with him as he hooked them upon his wing pinion. Once that was done, he scampered off of the dead swiftly, taking his time as he approached the vampire, neatly folding up the sheets, and fluffing up the pillows. Gently he placed a pillow upon the ground, placing the sheet upon it as he grabbed the other pillow within his claws and crept slowly towards the vampire, placing it ever so faintly behind him until it touched his back, before pulling away as though being that closed burned him. In truth, he was merely fearful that the other was going to hurt him, and that much could be seen from the way he kept the submissive posture. He didn't want to be hurt.
But, instead of merely stopping there, he calmly picked up the pillow and sheet, and crawled towards the vampire, placing it upon his lap before skittering back towards the corner of the room, and turning around to look at him. His head was once more tilted, and his eyes glimmered with curiosity. An aura of innocence surrounded the pale one as his wings folded neatly upon his back, pinions connecting in front of his throat, protecting him, or so he thought as he watched behind dark locks, his claws gently folding beneath his hands. There was no sense of pride for approaching a wounded person that should be dangerous, nor the satisfaction that some would get in seeing a vampire so badly harmed. Instead, there was worry, for Izailen. How much of a fool was a person that worried for a vampire? One would never know… But, there would be much time to find out, wouldn't there?
Ooc: I don't know how this post is going to sound. XD I may re-write it. I got so distracted, it wasn't even funny. XD My brain died! Yahooo!
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