Reclimation
Reclimation
xmlns:st1="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"
xmlns="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40">
Reclamation
style='font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>
Disclaimerstyle='font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>: Legacy of
Kain belongs to Edios and
dynamics not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely
because I have a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Kain . .
. then he’d be mine, I wouldn’t mind a Vorador either ^_^
Warning: this fic contains
it’s that simple.
Rating
Pairing
Vorador/Janos
Set
Two
Part
Authoress notestyle='font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>: just a
random ditty about Vorador waking up and questioning himself about an old
argument.
style='font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-ansi-language:EN-US'>Italics =
thoughts and flashbacks
his blade, but it had not surprised Vorador in the slightest. The paladin had
wanted release from his ‘eternity of suffering’ and Vorador had given it to
him. Vorador barked a laugh. ‘Eternity’. That whelp had no idea of eternity or
of suffering.
what both felt like.
thoughts when Kain re-entered the room, looking like the cat that’d caught the
canary. In his hands he held a cloak of fine woven metal links and a damaged
antler headdress.
first but walked as if to leave; then, stopping, he turned to the elder. Their
eyes met for a painfully long moment, both blank and unfeeling.
the battered helmet from the floor, sneering at it for a moment before looking
at Vorador again. His expression confused the elder, who could not decipher it.
Vorador raised and eyebrow, then snorted, turning away.
away without saying anything, but he stopped just before the door.
asked.
don’t hold it against you.”
fledgling.
before erupting into a cloud of silver grey bats and exiting through a high
window into the blood red sky of
{Vorador}
Vorador
groggily opened his unfocused eyes, wondering why he found it strange to be
doing so; a small but insistent pain assaulted him across his throat, causing
his breath to become raspy and dry, like glass against the inside of his throat.
Slowly his
eyes began to focus and he found himself staring at the back of a neck in
extreme close up.
Ivory hair
lay fanned out around them, leaving the back of the neck exposed. Tiny baby
fine hair ghosted across it; the skin was practically translucent, the webs of
blue veins clearly visible beneath the thin protection of skThe The smell of
dead immortal blood rose from the one in-front of him.
The neck subtly
curved down to a shoulder. Vorador lifted an eyebrow when he saw his own cloven
hand gripping the shoulder, encircling the knob of bone tight enough to leave a
red print on the pale flesh. He lowered his talon so it once again rested on
the shoulder, it was comfortable.
The rest
of the body was nestled comfortly against his own.
Forgetting
his confusion briefly, he smiled a little and closed his eyes again; he had
missed the sensation of someone else in his bed, the slow rise and fall of
breath that some vampires still preformed out of humane habit, the vibration of
their heartbeat.
It had
been too long since he’d just slept next to someone, he had been alone for far too
long and it left him cold and wanting.
He sighed
and did not open his eyes, it had been so long. He had, in the past been, known
to create fledglings just for this very purpose alone, to keep his loneliness
down. None of them had meant anything to him and he did not mourn their
individual loss. He had simply made more, nothing about them mattered; not the
age, size, or gender. They had just been tools, something to use to keep the all
consuming loneliness at bay.
The
loneliness that had come into being with the loss of Janos.
He had
lost his sire and it hurt him terribly. Time did not heal the wound that Janos’
death had caused in him, it only made it bigger, like a small creature
continually gnawing on the edge of an open cut, slowly enlarging it. Keeping it
raw. Making it bigger.
It was
that wound that stopped him from caring for any of his children; he would never
be hurt like that again, not ever.
The
shoulder in his hand moved. He opened his eyes as he felt the muscles shifting
like controlled liquid, he felt the bones rotate in their sockets and the
smooth texture of flesh under his palm. The spine arched and seemed to ripple
against him as the other started to wake slowly.
It was
surprising how much you could understand about someone’s anatomy just by
touching them.
He had
often lain next to his fledglings, awake, while they still dozed, and watched
them in a similar way to how he was watching the one in front of him.
But slowly,
over time, the Serefan had wiped out his fledglings, leaving him almost alone,
with only a handful to pick from. And then Kain had come and practically wiped
them all out in a bid to get to Vorador. Strange really that the fledgling had
felt the need to massacre the brood Vorador kept around him. Using the doorbell
usually worked so much better. Once Kain had come and gone, the Serefan had
easily picked off the remaining few in the last great hunt.
The last
great hunt, when Vorador himself had been captured, captured and killed.
He closed
his eyes tightly, trying to force the memories away. He didn’t want to
remember, he had enough grief in the present world without dragging past pains
up, without reopening old wounds.
The
shoulder in his grip moved away as the one next to him sat up.
Kain
yawned widely. Vorador watched him, looking over the left side of his face,
checking; but there was nothing there anymore save from the smear of dried
blood. No other mark remained. Kain shook his head slightly as if trying to
shake away sleep.
“If you’re
still tired, go back to sleep.” Vorador smiled. Kain turned to look at him and
said nothing.
Kain
studied his face as intently as anyone had ever done, more intently than many
of his one-night lovers. The fledgling’s eyes flickered with a fierce
intelligence behind the shimmer of insanity on the surface. Insane, but
intelligently VoraVorador actually felt uncomfortable for a moment, until he noticed
that the fledgling’s eyes were actually brown with flicks of gold. They still
hadn’t turned completely golden like all vampires did after they were turned.
It was a
frightening revelation of how young Kain actually was.
Vorador
shivered unpleasantly. This one that was so young had torn through the circle,
Nosgoth’s elite of most powerful sorcerers, like they were melting butter. He
now held the Reaver and handled it like he had been born to and the magic that
almost pulsed out of him was still half wild, uncontrolled. But he was learning
to use it. One day he would be unstoppable. All in all, at times he made
Vorador very nervous.
He jerked
suddenly when he realised Kain was speaking to him
“Not tired,”
Kain muttered stubbornly.
Vorador
couldn’t help it; his smile widened, peculiar really that this one who
shouldered the weight of the world and sometimes truly acted like he did, just
the way he would move at times or the things he would say, they sounded like
something one much older would say. But at other times he could do or say
things that sounded like they should be coming from the mouth of a five year
old human.
Briefly,
the image of him dragging a kicking and screaming Kain to bed, yelling ‘
chuckled.
Kain
raised a pale eyebrow at the laugh, then shrugged before yawning again. The
fledgling truly seemed tired. Vorador would most of the time forget how young
the fledgling was, forget that despite all his power and bravado he was still a
child by vampire standards.
He jerked
a moment when he realised Kain had been speaking to him
“ . . .
Fight back.”
Oh, it was
this old argument again.
argument was a very, very old one. One in fact that they had been having last
night and many nights before and every time it always had the same outcome one.
He doubted either were overly happy about it but felt powerless to resist.
you worse,” Vorador mumbled, collapsing back into a red plush chair.
statement, obviously not being what he had expected from the elder.
snapped, anger more than visible on the surface.
snapped louder, standing. “If you truly intend this war on human kind, you will
receive no aid here.”
wanting to touch the elder to try and drive his point in. Vorador hissed; he
did not want to be touched. Before he could stop himself, an emerald green
talon lashed out, claws slicking deeply into fledgling vampire flesh. He felt
the skin split warmly against his claws, felt blood smear hotly across his
talon, it almost hurt him when it collided with the hardness of teeth, fangs.
hitting the wall hard. The fledgling slid down slowly stunned, eyes wide and
shocked as they cleared. The shock was a wonderful expression, Vorador thought;
usually it meant fear. It gave him power, he had the power to banish that fear,
to be merciful, but he also had the power to deny mercy.
decision, he was kneeling in-front of the fledgling, one talon held open,
sharp, ready to kill, while the other gripped hard around the fledgling’s wrist.
Vorador almost puras has he heard the small bones grind against each other in
protest to his harsh grip.
blank.
if he didn’t then he would hit him again and again. He knew Kain might take one
or two strikes knowing how volatile Vorador’s temper was, but he knew he would
not just sit there and die, he would fight back and he knew how powerful the
fledgling truly was even if he would not verbally admit it.
because the softness of the fledgling’s skin splitting open between his talons
had felt so damn good.
backward. He watched as Kain swallowed a mouthful of his own blood before
looking up at Vorador. His eyes weren’t angry or afraid; merely tired.
Eventually he raised an ivory hand so Vorador could help him up.
he had used to hit the fledgling; his blood dripping from it. He pulled Kain up
with ease. Kain stumbled and almost barrelled into the elder, but Vorador’s
hand’s on his shoulders stopped him. Their eyes met for a second before,
without thinking, Vorador rubbed his lips across the blood and licked some of
it away.
and the salt of the fledgling’s skin, mixing with each other. He could feel the
wounds healing beneath his tongue and lapped at them. They reopened, coming
wide open, blood flowed heavily from them. Vorador was a little surprised he
hadn’t thought they were as deep as they obviously were. He sucked at the wound,
swallowed the blood; he had spilled this and so it was his by right, this
potent elixir that tasted ofe, de, death, sadness and rage.
and both were lost.
The rest
of the night had been a blur of tearing clothing, burns, torn bed sheets, claws,
fangs, blood and cum.
By the
time both were to exhausted to go again the bedroom looked as if a battle
really had been fought. The desk had broken under both their weight pretty
quickly, the rug had a deep rip caused by one of his foot talons, Kain had
carpet burns up his back while Vorador’s was healing from thin cuts made by
fledgling claws. The sheets had been pulled away and were blood stained while
feathers escaped the mattress from several tears.
Half the
time Vorador wondered if they were truly trying to kill each other.
Every time
this happened he felt fear, fear that allowing this to happen would give Kain
the power over him, the power to touch his mind, control him, to crack his
scull open like an egg, but the fear always melted when he saw it reflected in
Kain’s eyes. Both knew how bad this was for them yet neither seemed able to
stop it.
Vorador
hoped they found a way soon; it was costing him a fortune in furniture.
The End
Authoress
note: God knows where this one came from. Like all my fics first there is
nothing then boom a random and usually weird idea erupts from my half asleep
brain.
Oh well
hope it made sense and was in character, the usual stuff.