Mar 19
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Updated my sona design
Additionally, some original oc concepts and designs for a few ideas ive been workin on (which should explain my absence ndjdjdjfjd)
Anyway, theyll be under the cut to not overwhelm yall!
Starting up 1st, protag designs for an unnamed romance idea. Meet Aria and Jace!!
Designs for an RPG game concept ive been spinning in my brain for a while (Current Title is Within the Darkness but may change)
In Which Carrion Tells James How he Eats
Summary: An oc story. James and Carrion have been growing closer. And the mortician is finally feeling brave enough to confess his sins to the Saint.
Previous Two stories until I get them a masterlist James Lore Doc How they met
CW: Religious trauma vampires, disaster gays, blood drinking... cause vampires
It had taken a long time for Carrion to open up at all. But, today, he had told James he needed to tell him something.
Well, more accurately,
“Blessed Saint James-”
“It's just James-”
“No. Blessed Saint James, I have a confession.”
Carrion had shocked him by dropping to his knees and bowing his head low, his hands folded in prayer.
“I do not have the official power to do a confession, my lamb, only He can forgive sins. But I can always pray that He will show you His divine mercy.”
Carrion nodded.
“I…” he paused. James was scared to say a word. He was worried that Carrion would disappear if he said something now. And he could feel this would be a turning point.
“I…when I eat…” he seemed like he was gagging on the words.
“I consume the blood of the dead,” he finally spit out.
James tilted his head, confused. “Sorry? I don't follow-”
“When a corpse comes in, I drink its blood.”
James froze. He opened his mouth. Then shut it. Then opened it. Then shut it. By then, Carrion was staring at him, his eyes revealing just how nervous he was.
“Why?” He finally settled on. Carrion tilted his head to the side, before looking back at the floor.
“Because I'm hungry. And I don't want to do that to someone living. To have to remember someone like me leeching off of them. I'm,” he stuttered, covering his face with his hands, “I'm disgusting. I can't do that to someone.”
James wasn't sure what to say. He knew if he wasn't delicate, he'd never be able to help Carrion.
“Little lamb, forgive me if this comes off as impertinent or rude. But, you do know that you don't have to consume directly from a human, right?”
Carrion's head whipped up, his eyes wide.
“What?”
“Many of us don't consume from humans. I don't. There's a humane distribution system where witches drain some blood, and either sell it or donate it for those who don't wish to eat from a human. And,” he hesitated, “at my bakery, half of the goods have blood mixed in for those who are repulsed, or for those who cannot tolerate it alone.”
Carrion was staring at him with wide eyes by now.
“So, you know,” James said quietly, not sure what that look meant. “You have options.”
After a tense silence, James decided to add, “I am not against you doing what you have to to feed yourself, but the dead cannot heal themselves with time. When the second coming arrives, their bodies will have holes that were not present when they died. If you need a body, use mine.”
Carrion's jaw dropped, but he continued.
“As I will not rise again with the second coming, I have no use for my earthly body. If you stop feeding from the dead, it's all yours when I pass. And if you need it now, it's yours. You need only ask.”
“I- I can't-”
James knelt down, pushing his hair to the side. He gently placed a hand behind Carrion's head, and lightly pulled him so that his face was pressed to his neck.
“I do not find you disgusting, my lamb,” he said as he gently stroked the back of his head. “You have the word of a Saint.”
He really hated throwing the title around, but he knew it would be the only way to get through to Carrion.
For a long moment, Carrion just stayed in that position, stiff as a corpse. James was worried he'd offered too much too fast or that Carrion was going to have some sort of breakdown.
Then Carrion slowly moved, his mouth pressing against the skin of his neck. His lips tickled James' skin as they parted slightly, and he slowly, gently, sunk his fangs into James' neck.
James fought off the slight wince, knowing if he reacted, Carrion would stop and hate himself even more. God wanted James in Carrion's life for a reason, and if it was for this, he couldn't ruin this now.
He'd only been fed off of one other time. And it was a far different experience than this. This was gentle and soft. Like the person drinking from him saw him as a precious item that deserved to be cherished.
James gently caressed the back of Carrion's head, running his nails against his scalp as a sign that, not only was he okay, but that he wanted this to continue. James himself was frequently malnourished, so he could scarcely comprehend how it must feel to never have had a fresh meal.
James nearly jumped out of his skin when Carrion's arms circled tightly around him, allowing him to pull James, somehow, even closer. He continued to caress his head, sending the constant message that he was okay.
It may have been minutes, it may have been hours, but eventually Carrion pulled his head back, looking up at James with his blood still staining the corners of his mouth. His eyes glittered, and he whispered hoarsely,
“I'm so sorry.”
“Hush now,” James murmured, gently rocking the both of them back and forth. “God sent me to you to help you. So, I'll help you however I can.”
He was feeling a bit light headed, but he dare not share that information. While they sat on the floor, it wouldn't be a problem anyway. He worried that this might send Carrion back to darkness, that he'd accidentally undid all the work they'd been doing. But he hoped Carrion's arms still holding him tightly were a sign of the opposite.
James and Carrion Meet
(More oc stuff lol I just love them so much)
Carrion, full disclosure is my friend's oc, but the writing in this fic is from me. I don'thave a picrew for him, but I forgot how to tag my friend with their art. I'msending them this link, so if they remind me there might be a pic later.
Carrion is a vampire mortician with religious trauma. He has a secret. He does not feel worthy to consume the blood of the living. So he feeds himself on the corpses of the dead he prepares for burial.
In a last ditch effort, before his despair completely consumes him, he reaches out to one last saint...not realizing they have lived in the same town for 50 years.
James Lore Doc in case you missed it
Cw: Lots of religion talk, but like...James is actually magic, he just doesn't want to accept it It's all in his head, man
It was a day like any other. He'd hear a prayer, ask God if he should grant the miracle, then proceed forward, all while running his bakery.
But today, he heard a prayer that would change his whole world. Even if he didn't know it yet.
“Saint James of North Avon, I beg for your intercession. Please. Help me.”
As usual, he closed his eyes, asking God to show him the one who was asking for his help. He saw several quick images; one of the town he himself lived in, one of the funeral parlor, and then a man with long curling hair, and a sullen expression.
Help me was rather vague. It could mean a lot of things. But God had shown him that he lived nearby, so perhaps he was meant to go find out for himself.
But there was one more piece to his miracles.
“Father in heaven, will my intercession lead him closer to you?”
He asked for every prayer he received. There were times people asked for things, not realizing that it would make them miserable. They had a hole in their heart they wanted filled, and they would ask for the first thing they thought would fill it. Be that a specific person to love them who would only bring them misery, or a job where they would be successful but unhappy.
So, before he granted a miracle, he asked God to show him the outcome.
The images changed again, showing him a future where he intervened.
The man seemed as sullen as he had in the previous vision, and James almost deemed it a miracle he shouldn't give. Until the stranger looked up at something, and his face melted into a soft, but radiant smile. James couldn't see what he was looking at, but a smile like that could only come from God's love, right?
He opened his eyes, returning to the present. The bakery hadn't been too busy today, and most of his regulars would come tomorrow, anyway. He could close for the day.
He put out a plate of donuts for the animals who visited him in the evening, then hung up his apron on a hook by the door. He locked up, stopping to decide whether or not he should bring food. He didn't know what the man needed. He just asked for help. Maybe he needed food?
So he grabbed a loaf, and walked in the direction his vision had shown him. Sure enough, there was a funeral parlor. The door was locked, so he knocked.
For a moment, he worried his vision had been wrong, and the man wasn't there. But his visions were never wrong.
The door opened, and he held out a hand for the sullen man to shake.
“My name is-”
The door was slammed in his face.
He faltered. His visions were never wrong. And they'd told him that his help would be a good thing. What just happened?
The door slowly opened back up, and he put his smile back on.
“My name is-”
“I know.”
The man seemed hesitant. James waited patiently. Nothing good would come of rushing someone who was so clearly distressed.
After a moment, he looked at James, his eyes full of hope.
“Does this mean He hears my prayers?”
James' heart warmed, his smile becoming one of pure compassion.
“Of course He does. He has sent me to help. Though,” he laughed bashfully, “he declined to say what you need help with.”
The man huffed, looking over his shoulder, into the funeral parlor, then back at James.
“Um. While you are here, do you need a place to stay?”
He was dodging the question. But that was fine, he was talking to him, and they would have plenty of time.
“No need. I live up the street,” he pointed in the general direction of the bakery. When he looked back at the man, whose mouth was agape.
“You WHAT?!”
David and Louis: Origins
A human and a born vampire, raised side by side in a world where they should never have been friends. But then a miracle happens. And the miracle turns into a curse.
^ David
^ Louis, both young and old
They became friends so early in their lives that they couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been together. It was odd, for sure, but their parents didn't take long to become acclimated to the idea.
One was a pure blood vampire. The other was a normal human. It was a friendship destined to end in heartbreak for one.
They were only ten.
Louis and David had been pulled from their adventures to sit before their parents. David's parents always had a cold regality to them. Louis’ parents, though of the same social status, seemed small and nervous.
David's mother spoke first.
“It's time to discuss something we should have said long ago. Louis, you know what David is, correct?”
“Uh huh. He's a vampire,” Louis said, David nodding next to him. He hadn't known at first, and even when his parents had told him, he hadn't believed them. Vampires couldn't be kids like him.
He realized it was true the day he watched David fight his brother so that he wouldn't eat Louis. Not that it changed anything. They had been best friends longer than even their parents could remember.
“Some vampires are like me. They are made,” David's mother continued
Louis and David nodded in understanding.
“But some are like David and his siblings. When two vampires have children, those children are born as vampires. They are called pure bloods.”
Louis nodded, still not seeing why they couldn't be playing right now.
“Created vampires stay the same their entire lives. Born ones grow like humans.”
Another nod. David's mind was wandering, thinking about what was for dinner.
“But born vampires stop aging once they reach maturity. Around 18-20.”
David yawned. He knew this already. Louis was a teacher's pet, nodding along.
“Do you understand what that means? It means that, one day, David will no longer be aging, but you will. And one day, you'll die, and leave David alone.”
“Nuh uh,” David said. “Louis and I will always be friends.”
“Yeah!” Louis said, grabbing David's hand.
David's parents sighed in frustration, leaving the floor open to Louis’ parents.
“We won't make you do anything. But we think it might be better if you stop being friends before someone gets hurt.”
“No!” Twin voices shouted.
They looked at David's parents, their faces distressed. They simply shrugged.
“If that's the life they wish to lead, then we cannot stop them. We've done our duty by warning them.”
But they saw a brighter future. One where humans and vampires could coexist in every realm. Over the years, the dream went through various drafts; a school, a hospital, an orphanage, a safe house eventually, the friends realized that they should do all of this.
They went to university in the human realm, the both of them dreading the looming date where their fate would be sealed.
But…it never came. David continued to age like a human, much to the confusion and despair of his parents. But to the friends, it was perfect. They would leave the world together, just as they'd done everything in life.
The tables had turned. David was still aging. He was very much a vampire in every way, as evidenced by his unnatural strength. The strength he now used to build the orphanage by hand.
The only difference was that he was aging like a human. And now it was his parents preparing for their own heartbreak.
Not that David ever noticed. David had been downright excited to die. Him and Louis had made plans. They'd written up wills, gotten them cosigned by his parents who would be alive. They'd planned their funerals; it would be a joint affair, they had no doubt that they would die together.
Louis had been scared to die before. But David, once he knew he could have that future, took the fear away. It couldn't be all bad if David would be there. Death would probably be enjoyable with him. He found excitement in the idea that they could be together for their own little slice of forever.
They'd even planned…
“Right here. That's Where we'll be buried,” David said brightly, his parents not hiding their distress in any way.
They were giving the tour of the building, telling them every detail. And even though they were only in their early twenties, they believed in this dream enough to die in it. So, his parents had to be informed of this decision.
“If we can be holding hands when we're buried, we'd prefer that,” Louis added.
“But we also know that that could be difficult. So we don't mind sharing a coffin.”
“Excuse me,” David's mother said, running inside.
Louis would consider himself a good person. David didn't see what his parents were hiding from him. Louis could, though. And he should be feeling bad.
Instead he felt great. They'd spent his entire childhood telling him he'd die, and hurt David. And now it could be thrown right back into their faces, and he could keep his best friend
They built the building themselves. Fairhaven at the time was overrun with children who had nowhere to go, so, soon they were the fathers of many kids, raising them in a community so that when they moved on, they would be people of compassion, who could heal the gaping wounds left by centuries of violence.
They made friends, they aged, their children had children, they helped start businesses, they blessed weddings, they grew old.
Until David stopped growin old. Louis noticed first. But he didn't say a word. It was better to pretend they would still be able to hold onto their plans, just a little while longer.
He didn't notice until he saw David rocking one of their grandchildren. For a while, he'd noticed something was off. But he couldn't figure out what.
As he watched David softly sing a lullaby to the newest grandchild, he realized what it was. David had frozen in time.
Yes, there were light wrinkles near the corners of his eyes. The wispy hairs closest to his temples were gray. His eyes, which had always been bad, were worse.
But there should be far more of all of that by now. Louis’ stomach dropped. They were supposed to die together. How had this happened? And how had neither of them noticed?
Well, it was easy for David not to notice things. He was always running around, taking care of everything that required activity. He was tired, and he'd always been clueless.
Louis was more embarrassed he hadn't noticed.
“David?”
David stopped his song, looking up at him with questioning eyes.
Louis immediately regretted it. It would destroy him. He'd been so happy to die alongside him, to live a normal human lifespan. A quarter of a century had passed, with both of them believing that that future was theirs.
“Nothing,” He smiled, gritting his teeth. David shrugged, returning to his task.
Louis felt nothing but despair. He'd tell him. Eventually.
But Louis would never forget the day it happened. The day one man's life fell apart before his eyes.
He was sitting in the rocking chair in David's room, waiting for him to finish his bath so they could discuss the grocery list for the week.
He heard the sound of glass shattering, and shot up from his chair, rushing into the bathroom.
David was leaning against the sink, his bleeding fist pressed against a shattered mirror. His face was covered by his hair, which he had yet to put up after his bath.
“David!” Louis cried, rushing over to the mirror, taking his hand off the shattered glass. He pulled out one of the bandages he always kept in his pocket, and wrapped up his hand. He pressed a healing kiss to his knuckles, before chuckling nervously.
“Was there a bug on the mirror?”
David stood stiffly, staring into the broken mirror. His face was flat, expressionless. But his eyes were broken. Devastated.
“I want it gone.”
“What?”
“The mirror. It's broken.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“No, it's showing me the wrong thing. It's…it's not right.”
David was shaking, gripping the sink counter so hard his knuckles looked like they'd break the skin. Louis placed his hand over his, gently massaging it with his thumb.
“I don't understand what you're saying, but I think you might be overly tired. We can talk groceries tomorrow-”
“Did you know?” He asked, staring at him, his face haunted as tears began to run down his cheeks.
“David, what-”
“You would have told me if you'd known, right?”
It was that statement that made Louis realize what might have upset David so badly. But he wasn't sure he was ready for this conversation. Which was why he'd said nothing.
“You haven't told me what you're talking about, so how would I know?”
“I should be older,” he whispered, his voice strained. He reached out, touching a gray strand of Louis’ hair. “I should be looking like This.” He ran a thumb along the wrinkles near his eyes.
“Louis,” he whispered, his voice choking as his tears increased in speed and volume. “I saw wrong, right? It was a trick of the light? The mirror was broken?”
Louis sighed, cupping David's cheeks, and gently brushing away his tears.
“We always knew this was a possibility,” he said.
“No, if it was a possibility, it was supposed to have passed long ago. Not…not now. It's too late for…”
He dropped his head to Louis’ shoulder. Louis gently directed the both of them to his bed, laying the both of them down. David buried his face against Louis’ chest as he cried. All Louis could do was rub his back.
Eventually, David stopped crying, looking up at Louis, his eyes pleading.
“You'll stay with me, right?”
“I'll stay right here as long as you need me,” he smiled kindly.
“No, I mean,” his brain was muddled from the stress of the last 15 minutes, so he had to fight to make himself clear. “forever.”
Louis’ hand froze.
“Forever?”
“Yes.”
He'd never thought about it. It was never something they'd had to plan for, believing they'd die together and be buried outside the orphanage.
Forever? He felt tired and worn down now. How would he feel 100 years from now, or even just 10 years? His mind was already foggier than it used to be, his body not moving the same way it used to. He loved his life, he loved his dream, and most of all he loved David. But he'd come to look forward to the fact that there would be an end.
“I don't think that's something I can do, David,” He whispered, nervous that the poor man would break more than he already had.
“But-”
“I'm not built for forever,” he whispered.
He dared to glance at David, but quickly looked away from the heartbroken man. He couldn't blame him, life as David knew it had just ended. He'd be asking the same thing right now. Hell, he'd be playing far dirtier, pulling every single card he could to get his way; to keep his best friend by his side.
“Just….just think about it,” David whispered.
Louis nodded. It was only fair, it wasn't a decision that could be made hastily one way or another. He felt a bit guilty. David wouldn't have thought twice before saying yes, whether it was the wrong answer or the right one.
Once David found out, he begged Louis everyday to stay with him. He knew what David was prepared to do for him before his genetics caught up to him. But he couldn't do the same.
David lived with the guilt that he couldn't save his best friend. Louis lived with the guilt that he couldn't live for his.
"Saint" James; origins
About James. Born in the 1800's, a young man begins to do unexplainable things. To his village, the only explanation is that he was one of God's chosen.
The truth was he was a young man with a gift for magic and prophecy. But that's not something he wants to accept.
The history books say Saint James died a martyr, sacrificing himself to a monster in order to save a poor woman.
The history books don't know the whole truth...
CW: Lots of religion talk James is a character born from religious trauma lmao, blood, murder, non con turning, Cassius is touchy, but in a platonic way, James has severe food repulsion, which includes vomit, James gets mildly suicidal for two paragraphs
James was terrified. The voice of God had told him to sacrifice an innocent woman. He couldn't help but think this had to be a trial of some sort. He couldn't be sure if the answer was to just trust God, as Abraham had trusted Him, or if he was to shed his mortal pride, and give himself up in exchange for peace for his village.
After he deliberated, sending an innocent woman to slaughter felt wrong. If he was wrong, and she was killed, then her three children would have nowhere to go.
But if he was meant to die…that was a sacrifice that he could make.
But it didn't make it any less frightening. He believed he'd lived a holy enough life to go to heaven. But every human was scared to die. And, perhaps, that was the true test of his devotion. Would he be able to let go when the time came?
He'd been walking through the woods for what felt like hours, chanting prayers, as he walked, for strength. The silence of the woods was making his pounding heart sound deafening in his ears. A branch broke ahead of him, and he froze.
He looked up, his eyes peeled for the monster. The woods were eerily silent, not even the animals daring a sound.
Something blurred across his vision, and he felt an intense pain in his stomach like he'd never felt before. In shock, he looked down, four sickeningly deep cuts running across his abdomen.
He fell to his knees, choking as his blood bubbled up his throat, spilling out of his mouth. He tipped over, but before he could hit the ground, something caught him. A hand gently cradled his head, and for a moment, he was certain it was an angel that was sent to take him home.
Until the “something” ripped a chunk out of his neck. His vision was heavily blurring, but he could have sworn what he was looking at was a human. Not a monster. But that couldn't be right.
The creature was covered in his blood, drinking it up like it was water in a desert. His vision faded, and he said a final prayer as his eyes fluttered closed.
….
“I honestly thought I'd gotten too greedy. You didn't look like you were going to make it.”
James’ eyes felt too heavy to open. All he could hear was a voice. A voice that sounded very close. As though it was right up against his ear.
He was cold. Colder than he'd ever been. And thirsty.
“Water, please,” he croaked, still unable to open his eyes, but hoping the voice in his ear would understand the desperation.
“Oh. Oh no. Water won't do anything for you. Here.”
A cup was pressed to his lips, and he drank deeply. It took less than a second for his stomach to churn violently, causing him to vomit it back up.
“Oh, damn. That is rather unfortunate.”
He had to open his eyes. He had to figure out what was going on, and why he was so sick.
He blinked a few times, and he was finally successful. He slowly looked around to keep himself from getting dizzier. His eyes landed on a man with long, curling blond hair, and kind eyes. He was gently stroking his hair, looking down at him with an adoring expression.
“Where,” he coughed, unable to say more.
“You're in my dungeons,” he said it as though it was a good thing, a delighted giggle at the end of the statement.
He attempted to sit up, but the man shushed him, laying him back down.
“You lost a lot of blood,” he cooed. “Rest, please.”
“Why,” he choked, before starting again. “Why am I here?”
His smile grew absolutely dazzling, his eyes brightening the room.
“Oh! I stole your soul!”
James went from cold to frigid.
“You see,” he snuggled in next to him, resting a hand on his chest, “I saw you in that village of yours. You were so holy, and devoted, and I just…”
The hand on his chest scratched lightly against him.
“I just knew I had to destroy you.”
How could he say such awful things in such an upbeat voice? But James wasn't too worried. No creature on earth could steal a soul. Not while God in heaven-
“As a vampire, I knew I could get your attention if I started picking off members of your flock. And when I told you to send that woman, you did exactly what I knew a holy man would do. You came yourself! All I had to do was make you one of us!”
No creature of God could steal a soul. Vampires were creatures of the devil. The devil's voice had called to him, and he'd confused it for God. And thus, he had paid the price.
The man, or rather, the vampire, was right. His soul had been stolen. And he deserved it.
The man leapt to his feet, looking over at James fondly.
“I need to get you something to eat. I have a bad feeling about the way you turned, but we won't know for sure until we experiment a bit.”
Before he could even protest, the man had left the cell. James laid back down, pleading to heaven for forgiveness.
He wasn't sure how long he'd lived in that dungeon.
Through “experimentation” he and the vampire, who he'd learned was named Cassius, had discovered that his body rejected blood. Not only would his body not take blood the way it should, but it meant he needed to consume far more.
He'd been in such a place of despair, knowing that the promised paradise was now closed to him, and he'd decided to allow himself to just starve to death.
But Cassius wouldn't allow it.
“What kind of owner would I be if I let my pet die when we hit one bump in the road?”
Despite James' reluctance, Cassius had tried nearly everything he could think of to keep him alive. He eventually realized that if blood was mixed in with something heavy, like stew or baked goods, it was more likely to stay down, even if he was still nauseous. It wasn't a perfect solution, but perhaps there wasn't one. And so, he was alive.
It had been a long time since then. He wasn't sure how long. But Cassius had provided him with books for entertainment and would come to visit him once a day. He liked to talk and would prattle on and on and on, for hours, when he came to visit.
There were times that James got the impression that part of the reason he was here was because Cassius wanted someone to save him. It made him sad. His heart ached for him. He may have taken everything from him, but there was clearly a desire for someone to forgive him for his sins. Perhaps he had a bleeding heart, but James knew that, even if heaven wasn't an option for him, God was still working through him.
And God would want him to forgive Cassius.
So, despite his despair and hurt, he worked hard to be compassionate, as he always had.
One day, Cassius came to the dungeon, a wide smile on his face.
“Congratulations!” He said, moving to James' bed, and petting his head.
James looked up from his Bible.
“For what?”
“They've canonized you!”
James nearly dropped his Bible.
“What? It hasn't been very long since,” he trailed off, but Cassius was ecstatic.
“You were a martyr, though.”
Fair point. Martyrs were technically already saints, just not officially.
“Besides,” Cassius grinned, “it helped your case significantly that you've continued to grant your little miracles. Did you really think I, and the world, wouldn't notice?”
James blushed, looking away. After he'd died, he'd begun hearing prayers any time someone asked for his intercession. He'd still been able to grant miracles, possibly more effectively than before. As though God took pity on him and granted him a final favor.
“They named you the patron of facing the unknown, courage, and blind faith. But obviously, no one is particularly picky about what they ask you for. I live with you, and I didn't even know about some of the prayers you granted.”
“It's a neat little gift you have. I would love to be able to train it a little better, one day,” he hummed thoughtfully, continuing to pet his head. “Perhaps when I can trust you enough to let you go upstairs.”
But there was never a time he trusted him to go upstairs. Time quickly lost meaning, as he spent most of his day granting miracles, and the rest of it listening to Cassius talk nonsense. There were a few times he asked if he could have more than his little cell.
Cassius always got an odd look on his face, before saying something along the lines of, “not yet but soon.”
Until that day. He heard steps coming down to the dungeon. He had a small window in his cell, so he was able to tell that it was rather early for Cassius to come visit him. Not that he was ever told what it was that Cassius did all day. But he was fairly consistent with his visits.
“Father in heaven!” A woman's voice cried.
He immediately stood up, running to the bars.
“My lamb, what are you doing here? This place is dangerous,” he said, fighting off his excitement at seeing someone new for the first time in…however long.
“I sensed some magic coming from this place, so I wanted to investigate, but I never thought…oh god.”
She looked distressed, her eyes full of pity as they scanned over him.
“You're…I grew up in North Avon. Your picture is everywhere. But we all thought you were, you know, eaten.”
“I was,” he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Cassius is not a sane man. You should go.”
“Are you here of your own free will?”
“No, but-”
She held out a hand, and the door blasted open in a burst of pink smoke. His jaw dropped.
“I'm a witch,” she said simply. “I came here because I was curious, but with how much you have done for our town, and the world, I can't just leave you.”
“Cassius-”
“He's not home,” she held out a hand, giving him a reassuring smile. “I'll protect you. I promise.”
She walked him out of the house, a house he'd never seen more than one cell of. It was a beautiful home, befitting of Cassius himself. As they passed over the threshold, he paused, looking back at the house.
“Saint James, we have to go.”
He closed his eyes, saying a final prayer.
“Father, I forgive him. Please help him find the peace he is searching for.”
He then turned to her, and nodded. She looked at him with a sad smile, before beginning a chant.
A portal opened up, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him through.
“You should be safe here,” she said as the portal closed behind them. “Not many people know about this town, and as long as you stay within the limits of the village, no one can hurt you.”
She looked at him, sighing heavily.
“You look like you're starving.”
He smiled tiredly, unused to so much open space.
“What year is it?” He asked distractedly.
“Oh,” she hesitated. “Um, 1974…”
She trailed off and he froze. 149 years. He'd spent 149 years in a cell with a man who saw him as a domesticated pet.
“We gotta get you something to eat,” she muttered.
“My body rejects it. Blood needs to be mixed in something to keep it down,” he muttered half heartedly, not really thinking.
“There's a few of you like that here. I'll pass you off to one of them. They'll get you started.”
She found a small family, whose youngest was blood repulsed. Before she left, he asked,
“What is your name, so that I can pray for you?”
She grimaced. “Oh yeah. Forgot about the qhole prayer thing. Here's a warning. Don't go to the church. It's not a real church. But my name is Rosemary.”
“Thank you, Rosemary. Go in peace.”
She left with a smile. It wasn't the last time they would meet, the two of them becoming business partners later on. But he never stopped praying for her. And her life was only good from that point on.
The Day He Got His Dragon
A/N: Dot's OC's. Maybe no one wants to read about it, but hey, I wanted yall to see some of what I've been doing. I intend to post a few of their intros today. Some of these OC's are going to seem unrelated. But trust me, they will always and forever be intertwined.
The two characters you need to know here are Nagendra and Alistair.
Nagendra is a draconic fae (I stole her appearance from Malleus, but personality wise she is different) who was a general for the conqueror fae queen Margeurite's army. Was. She can turn into a dragon. Again, when I started, she was originally a fem Malleus until I developed her further
Alistair is a human vampire, who is incredibly charismatic. His unique ability from his Vampirism is that his bite makes you his puppet. He has been called the Grim Reaper, because he always makes an appearance when a kingdom is about to fall. His goal is to unify every species and realm to bring eternal, lasting peace. Often times, he doesn't even need violence to accomplish that goal.
This is the story of how he got his dragon.
CW: Non Con vampire turning, war, Alistair is a touchy guy
It was a clear sunny day when they spotted the white flag waving in the distance.
“I suppose I shall have to go scope it out,” Nagendra said as she strapped a knife to her thigh.
“General, with all due respect is this the best course of action?” One of her officers spoke up. She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as though to indicate further explanation.
“Well,” the officer began to stutter now that he was put on the spot. “Shouldn't we just finish them off? We have enough raw power in you alone!”
“That is not how we do things in this kingdom. Where possible, diplomacy is our first and preferred course of action.”
“Perhaps it shouldn't be,” she heard a different officer mutter, but she pretended to ignore it.
“I shall return soon with negotiation information,” she said simply, slipping into her true form, and taking off in a burst of power, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.
She was surprised that there was, in fact, no enemy army. Just one man. A man who was calmly seated at a table with the placements for a tea party.
She landed with a deafening thud, and the man instantly perked up.
“I was hoping it would be you!” He stood up from his seat, pulling the chair opposite him out, as though he were offering a completely normal lady a seat. “Please, join me.”
She shifted to her human form, taking the offered seat. He pushed in the chair, then returned to his own.
“As I'm sure you are aware, I am here to discuss the terms of surrender,” Nagendra cut straight to the point.
He took a sip of tea, looking into the sky, thoughtfully.
“Surely you've noticed it.” He looked her directly in the eye. “The whispers of war. The change in the wind. The way the queen’s eyes reveal that she isn't satisfied with what she has.”
Nagendra stiffened imperceptibly. She had noticed. The new officers coming straight from the capital were quick to call for violence. Her own officers, the ones she had trained up herself, came to her nearly daily with their concerns. The outer kingdoms were beginning to show signs of unrest, and her queen-
Her Marnie-
She had this faraway look in her eyes most days. There was something different about the way she spoke.
If it were only her who had noticed, the kingdom would be in a better state, and she could pretend nothing was wrong. But the whole purpose of this trip was to find out the source of this territory's unrest, and quell it.
By whatever means necessary.
She was no stranger to bloodshed, but she had been sold on a dream of peace and diplomacy. She was grasping at nothing as that dream slowly began to fade away.
Yes, she knew bloodshed intimately. And she was well aware of what the warning signs of war were. Even if some had yet to see them.
He must have noticed her stiffening, because he offered a sympathetic smile.
“Truly, it's a tragedy. To see a kingdom, won by peace and harmony, turn to war. And you, the brave general, who had all but retired, sitting right at the helm.”
“Do you have a point to your prattling?” she asked, trying to fight off the growing sense of unease.
He hummed as he poured himself another cup of tea.
“To put it frankly, I want you. I believe we can spare this territory from the inevitable.”
She arched a brow, but said nothing.
“You see, at the moment we can't save everyone. But we can save enough to make a difference. Think of the men, women, and children, who don't deserve to be thrown into war. Their only crime was being born. And yet, soon the queen will begin her crusade, and will snatch them from their homes and peaceful lives in order to, what exactly?”
“To unify the kingdoms, and bring peace," She answered. The answer that had brought her to the Queen's side.
“Is peace borne on the death of innocents truly peace?”
He seemed to have finished, so they both sat in tense silence for a moment. She finally reached out for her teacup, taking a calming sip. It had a pleasant flavor, except for the faint aftertaste of iron. Her palate was always a bit…unique though, so she figured it was just a cultural difference.
“So what exactly is it you propose?”
He perked up, placing his elbows on the table, as he leaned forward conspiratorially.
“Defense. The queen has grown tired of the dissenters, even though they are peaceful. And she'll alert the army to take down anyone in their path.”
“I have no such orders. Your accusations are baseless.”
His grin turned sharp.
“Would you indulge me?” He stood up, and offered an arm. With a suspicious glare, she placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
He walked her over to the edge of a cliff, overlooking a city. And that's where she saw smoke. Smoke, and people running.
“I believe the army's orders were to wait until you were not present.”
She stared, the gears in her head turning as the world around her felt like it was beginning to tilt. But she stood her ground.
“So, anyway, defense. We can save not only this village, but every village in this territory. With your strategic mind, and raw strength, as well as the loyalty of over half the soldiers in this army, I believe we can reclaim this territory without having to go on the offensive.”
“Why do you care? You seem…human. Fae politics are none of your concern.”
His grin turned sharp. “You're just going to have to trust me for now.”
“And what is it you ask for, in exchange for your assistance?”
He slid a hand along her jaw, turning her head to face him.
“Complete obedience.”
A shiver ran down her spine at the admission. His hand slid away from her cheek, moving to fiddle with a loose strand of her hair.
“One person in exchange for a kingdom. Can your conscience truly allow you to say no? I've heard legends of Draconic honor. Can you truly ignore this?”
The screams grew louder, and she snatched his hand, gripping it tightly.
“I submit.”
“Mmm. Yeah, that won't be enough,” He shook his hand from her grip, then pointed at the ground. “Kneel.”
She found herself dropping to her knees, bowing low, the way she knew Marnie always liked it.
“Oh, you're just perfect,” he purred, as he circled her.
She knew he was behind her, yet she wasn't prepared for the back of her armor being lifted, and a sharp, burning pain running from her lower back, all the way up her spine.
She grit her teeth, groaning and grasping at the dirt beneath her. The pain soon turned to a warm feeling, her head turning slightly foggy, as she felt his warm breath against her lower back.
“You taste…divine.” He breathed heavily against her skin, startling her when he pressed a soft kiss to the new wound. She hissed as he gently helped her lay down in the grass. He leaned over her, holding one of her hands, gently caressing it with his thumb.
“This is different,” he whispered, though with the blood loss she just faced, and the strange sensations beginning to overtake her, she could barely focus on his words.
“You seem very…aware. So I'll tell you what's happening to you,” he spoke softly, laying down next to her, nestling in close, caressing her hair as he spoke. “You’re dying. But you will live again. And when you do, you will belong to me.”
Her chest felt tight, and each breath felt more difficult than the last.
“You will be mine. And with you by my side, I'll gain an army of your loyal soldiers, as well as your strength. And with assets like that, my goals will be all the more achievable.”
She wanted to dispute his words, tell him that she belonged to no one, but the words could not come.
He nuzzled against her neck, his teeth grazing the skin. “It's so refreshing to have someone with a strong mind by my side. Not a mindless husk.”
He sounded almost sad as he spoke, but her vision was beginning to go black.
“When you rise again, we will remake this world, and every world, into a paradise. Until then,” he gently kissed her lips, light, and delicate as a feather.
“Rest well,” he whispered, and the world around her turned black.
....
It was all too easy, really.
But it always was. By the time he graced any scene with his presence, it was always as though everyone had been waiting for him. Waiting for anyone who could save what was left of their kingdom.
But this was too easy.
Which, he realized, meant he was nearly too late.
This was confirmed when, not an hour into his discussion with the general, one of his husks mentally informed him that the army was moving in on the town. Without their general.
It was foolish. It was prideful. And it confirmed he was minutes away from being too late to claim this territory.
With how quickly he had won over a dragon, he realized that the state of things was worse than predicted. She didn't seem surprised by anything he said, simply sad. It was as though all he was doing was confirming things she was already aware of.
She'd drunk the tea mixed with his blood with no suspicion. And when he'd said kneel, she delivered in a way he'd never quite experienced before. He'd almost wondered if he could just…not turn her. Losing that spirit, that wisdom, that tenacity, it would be devastating.
But there was always the chance that once they regained this territory, she would turn her focus to solely protecting it, pushing off his desire to continue using her for other kingdoms.
So, he bit her. The spot he picked was specific. A spot that, if anyone saw it, they would know it was a bite of submission. That she would have had to give herself to him “willingly”. Even if, in reality, she had no idea what was truly Happening.
But her taste… it was unlike anyone he'd ever drained before. So delicious and complex, he had to fight his instincts to just drain her of everything. When he'd laid her down, he'd watched and waited for the inevitable dying of the light in her eyes as she became an empty body awaiting orders. But it never came. The light changed, she seemed more pliable, less guarded, to his touch, but she was still there.
It felt…different. Good. Exhilarating.
A part of his heart that he'd nearly forgotten he had, surged with happiness knowing that he'd be a little less lonely.
It hadn't taken her long to turn, a testament to her draconic strength, and he'd immediately begin his march into town, having her circle overhead while he made one last attempt to negotiate. Immediately, he could tell the difference between her soldiers, and the queen's soldiers. Her soldiers all had a look of unease, and distaste, as though they knew they had to do what they were doing, but they had no desire to do so. After all, the only crime this town committed was talking. Although, now that they had no choice but to fight back, they would be twisted into traitors.
It was all too predictable. It was the same no matter what kingdom you visited.
He smiled, kindly, at the soldiers ahead of him, all of whom paused their fighting to stare at him. He had that effect.
“Good afternoon! I have a proposal for you all.”
The soldiers that belonged to the queen narrowed their eyes. But those who didn't…it was too easy. He practically already had them. They were waiting for any excuse to jump.
“If you join me, we can save this territory.”
Their eyes flickered with distrust, but they were listening.
He gestured overhead as he spoke. “If you have doubts, your general can quell any of your fears.”
The result was nearly instant. Those loyal to her defected without a second thought. It was a shame really, that she had never realized how much influence she had. She wouldn't have even needed him.
He snapped his fingers, and she descended on the town, beginning the process of fighting off the enemy army as he worked his way through the village, recruiting people, and pointing them to his camp. Luckily, some of his husks had started early, so it didn't take him too long.
Having a dragon warrior made this far easier than it normally was. It gave him time to do what he normally had to rush.
The town was beginning to be empty, the smoke making it an eerie ghost town. As he made his exit to quickly return to his camp, he felt eyes on him.
He turned his head, seeing the queen staring at him with a rage that was unbecoming for her image. He grinned, giving her a quick two fingered wave, as Nagendra swooped down, and picked him up, returning him to his camp.
He turned everyone there who wanted to join his army, and then moved forward to defend against every attack on every village in this territory. The queen was in such a rage, she wasn't thinking as clearly as normally. She was lucky he wasn't greedy, because he probably could have taken a few outskirt towns in other territories as well.
What he couldn't stand, though, was the heartbreak in Nagendra’s eyes. The more towns burned, the more innocents that fell, the more her heart seemed to shatter. At first, he was worried that the first person he'd ever truly bonded to would lose her spirit.
So he'd asked her. One night, on a night of traveling, he'd been holding her against him, stroking up and down her back, when he'd asked her what was wrong.
The answer felt like an arrow to his stomach.
“I'm being punished.”
She didn't offer more, and he didn't ask for more. He had designed this so that the queen and the army would believe he had won her completely willingly. Which was mostly true. But, for a brief moment, he almost wanted to throw out his plans, and inform them that he had turned her without her consent, and that meant she was bound to him.
That realization startled him, and he quickly brushed it away.
But it never affected Nagendra's work, and, on the whole, she remained unchanged. Besides, after that first day, the queen never returned to the battlefield, probably spinning some tale of frailty and heartbreak to her people, to distract from the fact that some of them had friends and family who were being slaughtered.
Soon, obtaining this territory became only a blip in their time together. They had their ups and downs, times where they gently held each other as they fell asleep, and times where they kissed each other so violently that if either of them was weaker, there'd be blood and broken bones.
But he'd grown dependent on her. He needed her. And, the more time passed, the more she was able to see the end result of the initial slaughter. She was able to see as that territory turned into a prosperous kingdom, where it's citizens thanked her for her initial sacrifices.
And it was repeated with kingdom after kingdom, whether violence was used or not.
There was something absolutely delicious about having someone alive see his vision.