WHO: self-para
WHAT: a recounting of matthias’s reaction to his first victim, anthony carstairs
WHEN: 1816, a few hours after Matthias’s turn
WHERE: Caribbean Sea
TRIGGERS: death, blood. violence. they’re mentioned in passing, but better safe than sorry.
“I... I killed him.”
Matthias rocked back on his heel, shock and regret written all over his face, Anthony Carstairs’s blood drenching him from head to toe. The kill had been messy to say the least and Matthias still wore the results of it.
Anthony had been the same age as Matthias, but unlike Matthias, had been wise to the ways of the world far too long before his time. Children in this time were hardly allowed to be innocent. How could they be when disease and poverty stole their parents from them, survival drove them to sell their lives to the merchant sailors, or the Navy pressed them into lives that were barely better than those of slaves and indentured servants? But Anthony had seen even more than the typical man his age. He’d joined the merchant marines as a child. It had been that or a life that would certainly lead him to the gallows. In his travels, he’d seen men lose limbs, boys flogged and flown alongside the ship’s sails, and yet, nothing could compare to the darkness he’d seen in Matthias’s gaze.
Now that the demon that had overtaken his mind and body had receded into the recesses, Matthias was left to take stock of what had happened. “Murdered him,” he choked out, the words seeped in deep grief. He’d looked into Anthony’s too old for his age eyes and had seen the moment he’d realized that death wore Matthias’s face, the moment he’d resigned himself to the instinctual needs of the monster that consumed his friend.
“Our first kills are always difficult,” a soft voice explained with more gentleness than should have been offered him given the current situation. “One day, you will look back upon this and recognize it for what is it -- the way of nature, predator and prey.”
Matthias looked into eyes he’d thought he’d dreamed, dark with a wisdom he couldn’t hope to understand, framed in a face that seemed too young to carry it. Locking eyes with her brought a deep sense of stillness, one Matthias hadn’t felt since the moment he’d awoken in her arms, a hunger stronger than any he’d ever felt gnawing in the pit of his stomach, raging in his bones, propelling him forward towards the closest thing that could fulfill it. That thing had been Anthony.
“First?” Matthias managed to utter the word that was both question and confession as he pointedly struggled to ignore the now glassy eyes of his fellow sailor. The angel (demon?) must have noticed because the next Matthias knew, Anthony’s body was being lifted and flung overboard. Given her size, that should’ve been impossible, and yet, it wasn’t.
“First,” she confirmed. Her small fingers came to rest against his chin. Matthias only had a few seconds to note the strength in them as she pulled his face down so that his gaze was now locked with hers. “It will become easier,” she reiterated. There was an accent tinting her sing-song voice, one the sailor couldn’t quite place. She lifted her hand from his face and threaded her smaller fingers through his. “And here I thought tonight’s hunt would be fruitless.” It was then that Matthias noticed the other man standing off to the side. Had he always been there?
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” A smile overtook her features and Matthias felt the rest of the tension drain from his limbs as her tongue darted out to swipe at the trail of blood at the corner of his mouth. “You will make a fine trophy, my darling.”
Carleigha smiled watching Matty on the boat. Matthias tended to carry tension, old memories edging his mind. He may not talk to her about those dark things haunting him but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to make it better. It was always little things, little whims he had yet to say no to her. He was and would always be family, even more so now that she knew he was Owen’s father. Today there was something calmer about him, on the boat in the sun. He was in his element and she loved it.
She grins up to him as she carefully climbs onto the boat to join him. She was excited though attempted to tone down that familiar bouncing. No wonder he compared he to a chihuahua. She feigned a pout at his announcement though she had no intention of spending the whole day saying ‘arrr matey’ or ‘shiver me timbers.’. She liked to tease but didn’t want to annoy. “Aww what about Black Sails. I think I would make a great Billy Bones. And you have the nice grumpy glint of Captain Flint”
There was a shadow of a smile on his face at the mention of Black Sails. Matty had watched the show when it had first aired. He was an avid consumer of pirate related media, mostly because he enjoyed the lies that the media propagated about the men and women he’d served beside, but Black Sails had done a better job than most. “I’m sure you’re aware that neither of those men mentioned actually lived. You would, though, make a fine boatswain, which puts you in charge of rigging.” Matty waved a hand lightly, indicating the area where the boat was tied to the dock. The bowrider was tinier than he was used to, a poor comparison to the sloops that had occupied his earlier life, and nothing in comparison to the freighters he currently worked with. Still, the small boat was capable of cutting through the water and was good for a day trip.
“I rented this specifically for you,” Matthias offered, hand running along the body of the boat. In many ways, the boat was a luxury vehicle, a treat for someone who wasn’t familiar with the water. “It drives like car. Allows for the passenger to be seated beside the helm seat or on the bench. And is incredibly versatile.” As he spoke, Matthias pointed out the elements at hand. “So, boatswain, what say you about trading in your title for something more exciting? Want to try your hand at sailing?”
— They usually rotated between who was going to be the one to pitch their services to potential new clients, but Hyunjin was under the impression the he was the one that did this more often than not. Despite being nervous because he didn’t want to screw up the chances of getting their company more out there, Jin didn’t really mind doing it. The clients they did have seemed to really like their services and their feedback was enough to motivate the young shifter even more. Their investor had set up this meeting with Matthias Knight, claiming to be someone he’d done business with, therefore trusted, Hyunjin was looking forward to it. He checked the time and the text he’d been sent, to make sure he’d gotten the time right and, by the time Hyunjin had lowered his suit’s sleeve, Mr. Knight’s secretary told him the man was finally out of his meeting and that he would see Jin now.
With a nod, Jin stood up and followed the older woman into Matthias Knight’s office and he smiled, offering his hand. “Mr. Knight, it’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you. Thank you for seeing me. I hope your previous meeting went well?”
Meetings. Matthias hated them. So much of them involved peddling one’s goods to potential clients. The rest involved playing nice. Matthias found it all to be a colossal waste of time. Unfortunately, though, growing a business required it. Even more unfortunate was the fact that his work day was lined straight with them.
“Pleasure is mine, I’m sure,” Matthias greeted as he stood from behind his desk and accepted the offered hand. He’d barely had time to breathe after dismissing between dismissing the end of the previous meeting before beginning this one, but that was nothing new. “Our mutual friend sings your praises,” he continued, indicating a chair across from his desk as he settled himself back in. “I hope that my assistant offered you water or tea. If not, we can rectify that.” He plastered a smile on his face, a fabricated one, but one that sparkled nonetheless. “Shall we begin?”
She didn’t want to answer that, at least not in a way that would cause him to either remember who she was or that it’d lead to him knowing more about her. Information that for now he’d, perhaps, keep in his memory this time. “I believe we learn from the past. Why dwell over it since there’s nothing you can do to change it?” Charlotte didn’t mind leaving it all in the past, in fact, if everything was this simple. She’d have never feared meeting her former alpha again, because he’d to leave her in the past.
Taking a sip from her drink that she took with herself now that she was no longer in a date, her gaze was still at him. Wondering if she stared for too long if it’d be enough to spark something in his memory. “Well, then I assume you’ve been almost everywhere so far. For as long as there’s something here for me I don’t see why I’d move out of this place. Do you want to move out of Astoria?” She raised an eyebrow.
Matthias wasn’t quite sure how or when the conversation had taken a turn for the philosophical. When he’d first joined her at her table, he hadn’t expected the night to take such a turn. Still, he couldn’t say that he was disappointed. “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. I’m almost certain that’s the quote I’ve heard repeated more than once.” There was a somewhat pensive look written across his face. “I believe there to be a truth in the past that we may run from but never truly escape. The past informs who we are. It determines who we become.”
That probably became truer the longer one lived. Matthias had so much past, it was sometimes all he could dwell on. “Not everywhere,” he countered with a wave of the hand. “Astoria is more or less a waystation for me. A place to set up business. It isn’t home.” Only one place had been home over the years, which was why Matthias maintained a house in a tropical country even knowing the deadly effect the sun would have on him. The idea of home made a person do incredible things. “I’m not quite I buy into the notion of utopia that this place seems to be peddling.”
A hint of a chuckle slipped out when he heard the other’s voice as he lowered his book to glance up, unaware of how he might have looked while he found himself caught up in the story. Or perhaps, he was using it as an escape from everything else going on in his life. If he could even call it that, rather than some sort of afterlife where he was able to live through countless lifetimes and yet none of them felt like his own. “It has worked for me this long, I have not thought to change it.” Bash shot the other a faint smile before he glanced at the page number before he shut the book completely.
“Perhaps someone wounded me and I have to find a way beyond it. Someone that is telling me that I should not frown so much,” he replied with a slight tease as he pressed the palm of his hand to his chest as if he had been wounded by the other’s words.
It was as simple as that, then. Why endeavor to fix something that wasn’t broken? “Very little has changed about you.” Matthias wasn’t sure whether he’d intended the words as a compliment or not. Either way, they rang true. To him, someone who endeavored to change with the times while maintaining the core of what made him him, the fact that Bash harkened back to a time long gone amazed him.
One hand slid into the pocket of the navy blue slacks he wore and extracted the box of cigarettes. Matthias selected one, twisting it unlit between his fingers, as a teasingly smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Count it as a casualty of war. Friendly fire. Decades of this and you’re still drawn to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost suggest that you enjoy it.”
👟 - Is your character into personal fitness? If so, what’s their exercise routine?
Yes, he meditates, runs, and maintains his sword play. Here’s a fun video of Lewis because it’s very Matty.
💡 - What is the best idea your character ever had?
He’s not sure if reconnecting with Owen can be attributed to him or not, but apart from that: Shipping By Knight. It helps him to remain connected to his past and it’s rather lucrative.
😄 - What has ever made your character laugh so hard that they almost passed out?
He doesn’t have very many of these moments often, but the majority of them can be attributed to something ridiculous Owen has said.
📰 - An obituary for your character was found in the local paper this morning. What did it say?
Were Matty to ever die, he’d hope that an obituary wouldn’t be posted. After all, very few people would care or would need to know of his demise so he sees no reason as to why word of it should be posted in a public paper.
🎠 - Your character is at the carnival. What kinds of rides or games do they check out to entertain themselves?
First of all, I can’t really picture Matthias at a carnival, but if for some reason he happens to attend one, he’d probably play those games that involve throwing darts at balloons.
💰 - Your character just found a fat sack of gold on a bench. What do they do with it?
Leave it. He has no need for money and he can’t be damned with the hassle of attempting to locate its owner.
Owen wanted to be emotionally checked out. He wanted to feel absolutely nothing. He wasn’t that kind of guy though—never was, probably never would be. So instead, he was tending to the rock that seemed to be stuck in his throat, by chugging beer. “Nothing we can do about it now.” At the very least, one silver lining now, at least for him was his sire wasn’t around. Hadn’t been around for so long, Owen was able to live in bliss for the most part.
“Sheer luck, I suppose,” Owen smirked, refusing to address the heaviness that sat on his chest. “You ever thought about how this is the shitty part about being immortal? Remembering all these mistakes,” he exhaled deeply. He’d made his fair share and he was reminded of a certain one whenever he saw Astoria’s resident librarian. He wasn’t sure how he was ever going to make up for that; or if he could. “Listen, we’re too old for this—at least we’re here now,” his finger tugged at the ring that made a home on his right ring finger. Owen had forgiven him—or he was trying his best to, he’d never said it, but it was still the truth. It wouldn’t bring Sarah back, but neither would be being pissed at his father for a lifetime.
There was a pause, a moment of silence as Matthias composed himself. As a distraction, he flipped through the shipping manifest that had been emailed to him hours before. He already knew the expected cargo like the back of his hand, had poured over the list countless times, and had ensured that all the necessary paperwork was in place. Still, it was work that allowed him time away from the conversation at hand. “I think about it all the time,” he answered quietly. His gaze remained glued to the words on the small screen of his cellphone even though his eyes had ceased to make meaning of them. Even after the screen went dark, Matthias’s gaze remained down. “It’s the curse of immortality, I suppose.”
There were a few more seconds of heavy silence before Matthias slid the phone back in his pocket. He stood, brushing the dust from the leg of his suit’s pants and jacket. “When did you become so wise,” he queried, eyebrow raised. After he’d put the jacket back on, Matthias ran a palm down the length of his chest. He’d always prided himself on the way he presented himself to clients -- clean cut, no nonsense, a force to be reckoned with. It had served him well on previous encounters. Nowadays dressing well was simply a part of who Matthias was, but decades ago, it had told his story, had cemented his place in the world, and it was difficult to unlearn the thinking that a well dressed man was a powerful man.
Finally finished picking at the invisible particles of dust on his clothes, Matthias turned to face his son. Owen took after his mother in stature. Looking into his eyes, Matthias could see sparks of her there. The majority of what he remembered of Sarah was found in their son. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I would never ask you to forgive me for choices that led that event that stole your mother and your life away from you. I am, though, recognizing that are quite wise and entirely correct -- we are here. So, hate me if you must, but we have a business to run.” After he’d spoken the words, Matthias extended a hand. “Okay?”
It had taken her nearly the whole week before she really started feeling like herself again. The bite had left her exhausted and feverish. It was unsettling how close it felt like being human, more than a few times she was afraid she’d open her side and find herself back home, nearly a century prior. She had been thankful for her friends. Atlas and Bash had settled themselves on one of her couches close by. A get well card from Mira was settled on her mantle. She’d ventured out to Ishmael’s one day, curled up on his couch for horror movies and hair pets. Even Owen popped by once or twice to check on her, annoy her a little bit in his playful way. It seemed she’d grown quite the little family her in Astoria.
Still she was excited to be feeling better, even more so to be getting out onto the water with Matthias. She’d always loved hearing his stories of his pirate days but she had never really seen him on the water. It was his element. His world. Grinning up to him enthusiastically as she found the boat in the marina she knew she was likely to be greeted with his usual grump but didn’t care. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Matty?”
The full moon had left Matthias feeling on edge. Speaking to Sarah should have calmed it; it should have alleviated much of the guilt he felt. Instead, Matthias discovered that while it had certainly aided in that effort, it had also served to remind him of how very alone he was. Not that Matthias would ever say that aloud. It was the vampire’s plight, he supposed, to keep existing while the world he knew and loved, as well as everyone that was held dear, fell prey to the limitations of life. He’d lived for a long time, and loss had been a part of life since the beginning, but it was not something that Matthias ever quite got accustomed to, though the years did serve as a salve of sorts.
Matthias wasn’t quite sure how being out on the water today would feel. He’d missed it. More than he could have even known. His pirating days were so very far behind him, and his human days, even further. Working in the export business had been a way for him to remain connected to the thing he loved, but Astoria had given him something he hadn’t had in centuries -- the ability to be out on the water during the day. “Permission granted,” Matthias called out in response. He’d learned decades ago that it was simply easier to indulge Carleigha’s whims, something that was relatively easy to do in this situation as he too was excited. “Fair warning. Abandon all hope of pirate speech from now.” The warning was delivered with a slight roll of the eyes. “There will be no live action reimagining of Pirates of the Caribbean.”
Matthias had been a vampire for over two centuries and he was still unsure as to whether it was a curse or a blessing. Most days, it was both. Others, neither. But that was so much of what life was, he supposed -- gray area, neither and both at the same time.
“I take it you’re still holding on to the wounded vampire aesthetic,” Matthias noted, a teasing glint in his eyes. “It’s been years since I’ve last seen you and somehow you still manage to look like a puppy who’s been kicked.” Bashiano was one of those gray areas in Matthias’s life; he couldn’t quite say that he was fond of the other vampire, but the idea of him ever ceasing to exist was one that Matthias did not want to consider. For all intents and purposes, Bash was the proverbial thorn in his side -- so terribly sweet and childlike Matthias was almost surprised he’d survived for this long. “Take it from someone who’s something of an expert, you’re much too pretty to frown so much.”
Sarah didn’t know what she was expecting, but she didn’t expect this kind of reaction. She knew that Matthias most likely held some guilt for her death, but she wasn’t sure if he still carried it with him after all this time. After all, she had moved on a long time ago, but she kind of had to because there was no point in lingering on it when you’re dead. She gives him a smile that’s tinged with sorrow, feeling sadness for him. “There’s no point in dwelling on that now, the past is in the past.” She speaks in a hushed tone, to let him know that she doesn’t fault him for it.
“You shouldn’t hold so much guilt for something that happened so long ago, you couldn’t have known what would happen to me. What matters is you’re here for Owen now, I’m sure it means more to him than you know.” She lifts her hand to his cheek, her thumb gently wiping away the falling tears. While this wasn’t her body, she treasured these moments she was having with her husband. She knew that she wouldn’t get an opportunity like this again. “Give our boy time, he’ll come around.”
They were pretty, the words she offered. A part of him knew that he’d needed to hear them, but the bigger part of Matthias struggled to accept them. “It’s been fifty years,” he countered, angling his face slightly. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to escape or embrace her touch. Either way, the moment called for movement. “Fifty years since we’ve been together again. Owen and I.” Matthias’s hands came to grip the edge of the table pushing lightly so that the heavy chair he sat in scraped as it moved away giving him space to stand if he so chose. He did not. “I should’ve looked for him before then, but...”
The sentence trailed off. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain to his dead wife that he’d fallen into a dark hole, the likes of which would have only been exacerbated by the sight of their son. He ran a hand over his face. Matthias felt tired. It was something that he hadn’t felt in years, not truly at least, but this emotional exchange had worn him thin. He wanted to ask for how long she’d be present but he was almost certain that the witch had harped on the importance of Halloween night back when he’d been in control. He wanted to suggest that she speak to Owen, but he wasn’t even sure how to go about doing so. So, instead, Matthias reached out and brushed the hair off of the witch’s forehead. It was strange, this enigmatic need to be closer, to bask in the intimacy that was speaking to his wife, while looking on the face of a stranger. It was still too much for his mind to wrap itself around. “Thank you,” he half whispered, half prayed. For the words she’d given him. Even if he couldn’t yet accept them. For the fact that she’d chosen him as the person to whom she wanted to speak. It was something he’d both treasure and add to his collection of things for which he should feel guilty. Softly, he whispered the words again, mind already considering the ways in which he could speak to her once more, he’d move heaven and hell if it were a possibility, and dropped a kiss to the witch’s forehead. “Thank you.”
“Well, that question is much too open ended to answer. I suppose it depends on the condition of the body, the intent for hiding it, and the potential consequences.”
izzy806
origamiaround
annaxmalina
dededos
ellievsbear
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
kaledo-art
