Any other vampire au takes?
Ok, I haven't had the chance to take on the vampire au, since it's usually one of the other mods here, so I guess I'll give it a shot? If it's not to your liking let me know and I'll whip something else up! This is what happens when I binge the witcher soundtrack and read old mythology.
No one is completely sure what a Vampyre is. Some say they are beings with no soul, that they made a pact with the devil. Others say they are cursed, am omen of evil that spreads death and disease with the whispers of magicks on their tongue. In that nebulous space between Dead, dying and alive, a Vampyre defied man's laws of nature. Although, man's understanding of nature has always been fickle at best.
Most humans don't know how a Vampyre is made. Only that they are turned, born, for whatever way they are alive still, in the darkness. The riches, the jeweled brocades and fine silks that some paint in books and stories told around the fire? As unnecessary to the Cold Ones as they are to humans. The dead have no need for aristocracy, perhaps their greed is the remnants of whatever humanity they had.
They awaken in a screaming, writhing mass of flesh and hunger. Their fangs drop heavy in their mouth. Their eyes glow, eery and bright. Their senses are bombarded by the blossoming light of the world. Overwhelmed and malnourished, they hide away in the dark. Some say they must hide for the next 30 days, until the first full moon comes and grants them the control that a predator needs.
He is framed for a crime he didn't commit. The man he calls father on his death bed, and with no one to speak in his favor they haul him away. They call him a devil, they call him a beast. Beasts get no trial. They throw him, alive, deep into the ravine far outside the city walls. He is buried beneath the crumbling earth and he dies. He dies begging for mercy. He dies begging for humanity. He dies.
And then Markus wakes up.
He's not sure why he wakes up. But he does. And maybe Markus, good kind Markus, died with too much spite in his soul. Maybe after the heavens turned their back on him the only angel to grant him mercy was the Morningstar. Hell, maybe Markus really was cursed.
But never the less, Markus wakes up.
His tongue feels heavy and dry, like he hasn't drunk water in a week. His limbs are shaky and feel half-formed, as if his body can't remember how to work anymore. The world feels bright, in a sickly sort of way. The dirt against his skin grinds like a wet stone, the rough catch of tree bark stings like nettles. But slowly, against the torrent of rain and earth, Markus climbs out of his grave.
He climbs and he climbs. He laps at the raindrops but his thirst is not quenched. The hunger deepens. Markus stumbles his way into a cave entrance near the ravine, eyes glowing a dual-toned fire.
_________________________________
Connor finds him some months later.
The hunter had been in the area, trailing whispered gossip and snippets of rebellion to the kingdom's capital city. Once there, he hunts down information, and his partner, in one Hank Anderson, a washed-up member of the city's guardsmen. Connor finds the man in a local dive, his hurt as bitter as the swill he drinks. Others in the tavern stand back, whispering, weary of the unnerving newcomer.
And unnerving, and beautiful, is what he is. His posture is poised and perfect, as is his smile. His hair is neat, pushed back, despite the leather and chest guard he wears being worn smooth with use. Many spot him sitting with the guardsmen as time goes on, but despite the flow of ale and tavern music he never drinks. He never eats, no bread or meat that passes his lips in view of the public eye, no mention of hunger despite his eyes seeming to say so. Like a puppet trying to mimic what he sees but never quite succeeding.
There is a silver coin in his hands that he can never quite keep still. And even more so, he knows things. Things he shouldn't. Things that are ever so slightly worrying. Like when the rain will come despite the good weather, or where someone was by the dirt on their shoes. He can follow a trail better than any hound, but bares his teeth like one anyway, tearing through streets and food stalls as if he were chasing a particularly juicy rabbit.
Hank has his suspicions, but won't say anything. Because it doesn't make sense. Because Connor walks in the sunlight, even if it looks like he shouldn't be able to. And that's what confused him. Because Connor looks like he doesn't belong in the sun. It washes him out, makes his already pale skin look dead, in a real sort of way, and Connor is so silent when he walks he may as well be a shadow with how much noise he makes. He almost thinks Connor shies away from it, finding shade under trees and small cobblestone alleys, but more than once Hank sees him staring wistfully at the golden rays when the sun sets. It truly was unnerving, Hank thinks, to see something that looks like it's trying to be human even though something in you says it's not.
When Connor tracks Markus down deep in the mountains outside the city, Markus thinks it's unnerving too.
And Markus is fascinated.
They're at a standoff, Connor standing at the cave entrance, glowing under the deformed halo of the setting sun. Markus sitting in the misshapen shadows of stalagmites under the cover of the coming darkness.
The silence ticks on. The hunger grows in Markus stomach, still oily and foreign, and Markus hates himself for it. He hates the hunger and the pain, and the pleasure he knows will come soon after he feeds.
And yet...
Markus locks eyes with the man and takes a deep breath. The scent of moss and loam, the crisp, smoky aroma of ozone after a storm, the kind that makes your lungs ache if you breathe too deep too fast. And underneath it, the sharp tang of copper that made him lick his lips. If he focused hard enough, Markus could hear the strangers' heartbeat, low and slow and sure. He didn't smell like death, the thick cloying scent that made Markus stomach turn.
But he smelled close to it.
Not dead, not dying really, but not alive in the way he was supposed to be.
Almost like him. Not quite, but almost.
The hunger returned, but it was a different kind.
"You're not human," Markus isn't asking a question.
The man tilts his head and continues to gaze at him. His lips pull back into a smile, and Markus sees his fangs glinting in the dim sunlight. He reaches into a pocket of his leathers and Markus tenses at the spicy, sour scent that tickles the back of his throat. Unwittingly, the scent of silver makes his hackles rise.
Another moment of silence.
"what are you? Who are you?" Markus can't help his curiosity. Even if his body recognizes the presence of danger he's not afraid. Yet.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" His eyes glow, bright and otherworldly, like smouldering embers.
"You know who I am " That Markus is sure of. The stranger shifted then, body and face softening the slightest bit with a crinkle in his brow. "I do," The stranger admits, and Markus wonders what he's here for, because Markus has never seen someone look so lost before.
"So who are you?"
The coin stops spinning.
"I..."
Markus waits, fascinated beyond belief.
"I'm Connor." You're beautiful, Markus thinks, "Someone sent me to find you."
"Why?" And how did they know he was still alive?
"They-" Another moment of hesitation, "They keep track of us. Of people like us. They think you're dangerous." He didn't seem to like talking about whoever "they" were.
"You never answered my question "
"Which one?""
"Who are you?" The knives resting on his hips shifted as he stepped closer. The cave echoed with the sound of footsteps, as he stood at the precipice of the incoming sunlight, with nothing but a thin line of the light between him and the darkness. Between him and Markus.
Markus stood, and met him in the middle.
"I'm Connor..."
"I'm a daywalker." Ah, Markus thinks, that explains the heartbeat.
Call him naive, but Markus doesn't believe Connor is as dangerous as he looks. "You're beautiful," Markus says instead, the need to know more about the hunter nearly driving him to madness.
Another smile. Wider, less even but just as beautiful, with his fangs peeking out. "Thank you."
Yes, Markus is sure he doesn't have much to worry about. But still, one should never assume. "Are you here to kill me?"
The coin is tucked back into whatever pocket it came from, as Connor seems to think his question over. Markus thinks he should be more worried about the hesitation to answer, but finds that he's not. "I was going to," Connor admits and Markus gives him points for honesty, "But I think you're more interesting alive." And those dark eyes slide all over Markus, making their meaning rather clear.
The hunger in his stomach grows.
He can see that same hunger reflected in those burning eyes.
Markus smiles.
"Interesting?" That seemed to be putting it lightly.
