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Public announcement
(Incidentally, I got this from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
indigoskynet, who doesn't have me friended, but the originator last year was sigma7, who was prompted by a comment of reynardine's. How's that for the LJ social network working in mysterious ways?)
(May have crackfic later, though.)
indigoskynet, who doesn't have me friended, but the originator last year was sigma7, who was prompted by a comment of reynardine's. How's that for the LJ social network working in mysterious ways?) April 1, 2006: Business as usual |
(May have crackfic later, though.)
Re: Your fic, m'lady
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Despite the screams and the blood staining the floor and the intense desire he felt to rip apart the mortals currently suffering at the hands of his lover and their demon ally, Herbert remained where he had stood as the minutes crawled by.
The stone was cold, a little damp, through the pale fabric of his shirt, the floor slick and shimmering wetly beneath his feet.
It was almost regrettable that the castle had been fitted with electricity, he mused. In circumstances such as these, it was infinitely more intimidating to inflict such torture in darkness or by the light of a flickering flame.
Admittedly, William and Illyria had proven quite adept regardless.
The girl had long-since stopped screaming and was presently propped against the wall. She was sitting in a puddle of her own blood, although Illyria’s skill for causing pain meant that she only started bleeding when the shattered bones of her pelvis were pushed slowly through her skin when she was placed in a sitting position.
William had moved from his first victim to another.
After taking his time cauterising the severed limb of the man who had tried to attack, he had taken even longer cutting into the man’s skin, though never too deep, but enough so he could scorch every cut closed with a nicely heated poker.
Eventually, though, that had bored him, so the second man had been dragged from the huddled mass of reeking humanity. With the edge of one of the man’s own knives, every finger carefully and deliberately severed, knuckle by knuckle.
The blade had been offered to Herbert, but he had declined with a curt shake of his head and William had known better than to ask twice.
Re: Your fic, m'lady
I'm really, really liking this scene btw :)
Re: Your fic, m'lady
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*would chew nails, but they've been clipped, and there are still drabbles to write argh!*
Re: Your fic, m'lady
Clearly, they had no idea what they had done and why they were being spared, or why their friends were still alive, in spite of suffering great pain.
Tilting his head, Herbert was mid-sigh when it felt like a flicker passed through the very walls of the house. Even the light-fittings seemed to go dark for an instant and Herbert felt as if something had reached inside him, squeezing his throat from the inside out.
Where he was squatted, William shuddered, falling onto one knee, blue eyes looking wildly up at Herbert. “Herbie...?”
“There was a flux in power,” Illyria added with a notable frown.
Shaking his head, his eyes wide, Herbert was drawing rapid, shaking breaths. “No...” He turned and - he would never deny it - ran from the room. Half a dozen times, he stumbled on nothing, groping blindly along the walls.
Re: Your fic, m'lady
I really like the restrained despair in the narration here.
Gets worse...
More important things. More important person. One person, only person.
Father...
Staggering, he desperately fumbled with the handles of the drawing room doors, his trembling hands made clumsy by fear, by distress, a sound of pure, unadulterated anguish slipping from his throat.
“Herbie...” William’s hands drew his away and he saw the blood stains smear on the brass. Father would be annoyed. So annoyed. Can’t have any mess. No stains. Always have to keep things clean.
Twisting the handle, William was watching him as he pushed the door open.
Inside the room, there was silence.
And the steady, rhythmic beat of a single mortal heart.
Swaying on his feet, Herbert heard the whimper in his throat, but couldn’t move, not even to approach the figure draped over the mortal’s slighter body. He couldn’t go closer, didn’t want to be sure, didn’t want to know or accept...
With great effort, he took a faltering step forward, felt William’s touch on his shoulder, support, comfort, love.
“Father?” How could a shout become a whisper? How could it be so weak?
Re: Gets worse...
*more?*
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It seemed that eternity hung in that moment, then slowly, his father moved, turned, looked towards him with haunted eyes and a tragic smile that made Herbert both sob and laugh his relief.
On legs that belonged to another, he half-ran to his father, to his dearest and best and beloved one, falling to his knees and wrapped his arms around his father’s body. he could feel tears, could taste them.
“Oh, Herbert...” the whisper touched his hair made him tremble all over.
“Never again, father... never...” he whispered pleadingly, clutching his father as if he might be torn from him in a heartbeat. “Please...”
He felt the hand smoothing his shoulder, felt the caress to his hair, felt the emotion and exhaustion of the one person from whom he knew he could never be severed, would never be torn, who was his, always and ever, never to be parted.
“Never,” von Krolock whispered and slowly, tilted his head.
Tears on his cheeks and hands clenched in shaking fists on his father’s back, Herbert sobbed aloud when his father’s fangs cut into his throat. His. His father. His everything. His all. His best and dearest and beloved.
Without thought or question, he clung all the tighter and sank his fangs into his father’s throat, claiming, marking, loving, assuring, cherishing, everything.
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(And oh, them clinging to each other, on their knees, fair and dark, a blood-covered Spike standing in the doorway, Dawn lying in a pool of her own blood, Herbert's bleeding hands clenched on VK's back. I will learn to paint, one day.)
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