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.”
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.”
