Veryan of Shadow
‘Ashes’
Veryan, progeny of Kerrith D’Shada, the softly spoken, sweet-natured, midnight blue-haired beauty who captured Kerrith’s heart. Veryan, who inherited the telepathy and skills of the mind that were inherent in Kerrith’s bloodline.
It should have been perfect, and for one hundred years, it was.
Warnings - Torture, Violence, Strong language. Rating - UK18 Word count - 936
‘Ashes’
“After that, after Malachai, I could no longer stand to be touched, affectionately or sexually. All contact took me right back to the weeks in his dungeon.” Veryan looked into the flames, and they, in turn, sent light splashing across his features, over deep blue hair the colour of velvet night. Shadows danced on the wall behind him. He spoke softly and slowly, his tone carefully expressionless.
“Kerrith was...” Veryan made a noise that might have been a sigh, “patient. So very, very fucking patient. He was kind, and wonderful, and he never made me feel as though I was in any way lacking. He said we had eternity, he said he would wait forever for me, that it did not matter to him. He said it would happen when it happened, and that until it did, my companionship was sufficient for him.” His voice was tight now, as though the weight of the emotions that crowded behind the words might break through at any moment.
“It was complicated and difficult. I blamed Malachai, and Kerrith blamed himself. In some ways he suffered more than I. He suffered in so very many ways, and many of them were my own doing. It was an uneasy time. I lashed out at him constantly, both physically and verbally, and though I was never able to hurt his body, I knew my words pierced him deeply. I knew also that I was acting less than honourably, and yet I would not stop. I needed to hurt, and I needed to hate, and he, I knew, would not push me away.
"I turned my fury on him, knowing that he would take it; and he did; he took it from me for two years. He did not deserve it, no matter that he believed he did, and I regret treating him so. I believe I regretted it, even as I did it, but I was twisted and damaged and regret was not nearly enough to prevent me from acting thus.”
Veryan lifted both hands and ran them one each side of his head, his long slender fingers spread, combing through deepest blue strands. His index fingers stroked lightly at his temples as though smoothing away tension. He plucked the clasp free and shook his head, ruffling his hair with his fingers, shaking it free over his shoulders and down his back.
“Always we feared that Malachai would return, that he would track us through his bond with Kerrith. We knew that Malachai would not let things lie, that he would not allow Kerrith to have bettered him, that it was only a matter of time before he sought us out again. We knew that we would be safer apart. Sometimes we spoke of it as an option. Sometimes I accused him of wanting it, that he might be free of me.” Veryan shook his head, and just loosed hair tumbled around his shoulders.
“Eternity lasted but two years before Malachai returned. Malachai returned, and I forced Kerrith to make a bargain with him. A bargain whereby we would remain apart, on the condition that I need fear nothing more from his Sire.” Veryan’s voice was bleak. “It was nearly fifty years before I saw him again. And that was that.” His tone said that it was anything but.
The vampire stretched out and curled around himself slightly, resting on one elbow, one leg crossed over the other so that the toe of his boot touched the floor. He continued to look into the fire, as though he saw the story he was telling in the dancing, flickering flames, or perhaps he simply did not wish to look at the one to whom he spoke.
"Since then," Veryan laughed once, a quiet sound with no humour in it. "Since then I have become less... phobic. I enjoy physical contact to a point. I flirt. I hold hands, I walk arm in arm, or with my arm wound around another's shoulders and theirs about mine. On occasion I kiss, though it is rare. Once or twice I have held another, have pressed my body to theirs." He stopped talking for long moments, and his eyes stayed unblinkingly fixed on the flames, on the fire.
"There was a time that I took that physical closeness completely for granted. Kerrith and I were constantly entwined, constantly on the verge of fucking. Now a simple caress is a rare jewel, and I treasure every intimacy that I can bear. They are surprisingly few and far between. Beyond that, obviously, I cannot go."
Veryan smiled, though it was a forced and brittle thing. "It is not for lack of wanting. I want. In truth I wish I did not, for it would make things so much more simple. Less painful. Less frustrating. But it has been this way with me for a very long while. I do not like it, but I am accustomed to it. It is incredible what one can get used to when one has no choice in the matter."
Veryan’s tone was dry, entertained rather than bitter. He saw no point in being bitter about it. It would change nothing, except to give him more cause to dwell upon something he had no real wish to think of. “Does that answer your question?” He said, at last. “Now do you understand why I cannot have a sexual relationship? Not with you. Not with anyone. It is not personal, and it is not something I have any choice over. I simply cannot, no matter how much I might wish that it be otherwise.”
