[emery-charles-frost]

Emery & Michael || The Walking Wounded

Smoke from the homes in Night Haven Village hovered above their roofs freely, transforming into fun shapes & patterns while it drifted lightly into the space above the canopy of trees. It was as though the smoke was sending Emery welcome home signals, greeting the traveling vampire as he walked steadily up the path leading to the stone entrance of his village. 

It had been two days since Emery’s encounter with the dragon; two days since apparently he had missed an upcoming war that was luckily stopped just in time for Emery to return home, & two days since him & Rebecca had done more exploring, more running around together before they both headed home. The apparent war made him worry about Rose, & wonder if she were alright through it all. Had Lark looked after her during it all? Perhaps another town-folk that had known of Rose’s situation…maybe the nurse or midwife…had Rose really given birth in the middle of a potential war?

But even walking home from the countryside Emery had sensed that his country, at least on this side of the large island, was okay, perhaps untouched even. After all, Night Haven bustled about like normal when Emery stepped foot into his home as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place whatsoever. It was comforting, everything was comforting…even the Thirst sign that hung heavily against Michael’s tavern felt oddly calming to look upon, when normally Emery would steer away from the establishment altogether.

Tonight was different. He was happy….happy…to be home, happy in general. It was a complete & utter rarity, something Emery hardly felt over the past months & wanted to hold onto. If he could feel the way he felt that night at his & Rose’s wedding forever then he knew that everything would be okay, that no matter where he went or why he went there, that no matter who he was fighting or who he was protecting, that as long as Rose was in the back of his mind always & her hair tickled the sides of his cheeks whenever he’d pull her close then he would be happy.

Fuck what that dragon said. Fuck what Michael wanted from him. Fuck what Cole saw in him…Emery was making his own decisions now.

His smile at the passers-by was genuine, he helped a woman pick up a few apples that fell out of her basket, he stopped by & listened to the traveling musician play a tune on his lute & even threw him a couple coins that he managed to keep from Vasuki.

A tranquility settled over him, calming nerves that tended to cause Emery to act out of place & he accepted everything he was in that moment. Although his hand felt light without his wedding band, & the frustration from having to give it up to Vasuki days prior was heavy, Emery let it go. He let everything go & just laughed, mingled with his towns people that were still awake in the middle of the main strip of brick businesses & homes & wooden stands in their small village & cherished it all with a new set of damaged eyes.

He picked out a bundle of sunflowers for Rose, conversing with the familiar man behind the stand about recent activities around the country. Digging into his pocket he frowned & said, “Sorry, I’ll have to pass," upon forgetting his normal stash of coin was short lived, between the dragon & paying for other things around the late night market trip. 

"Take them, for your pretty wife, no?" the man grinned, tying the stems together with a string & handing them out to the boy. “It ain’t right for a man to be away from his wife & not get her something pretty, Mr. Frost!"

Emery nodded in thanks, taking the bundle of sunflowers & turning away from the stand. His next stop was to his home, his forge, his loyal angel & most importantly…his faithful companion.

[thestriga]

The armor sat on his body awkwardly. After so long it still didn't feel comfortable sitting over his ashen skin, clinging to his toned torso and pinching at his flesh between the gaps. Maybe he was just noticing how awful it felt on him now because of what the armor symbolized, and that was somehow magnetizing his discomfort to unbearable levels. Maybe the idea that he didn't belong in Draugr weighed so heavily on him now that having their brand on his chest, in the form of foreign armor, was simply too agonizing. Long fingers fidgeted with the chain mail, adjusting it in a way that felt less of an alien object. As his heavy boots wandered through the path up to Night Haven, he found himself lost in his head yet again. Ever since he had first come back, wearing much of the same attire, he had made the journey back -- night after night. It gave him comfort to be apart of some sort of normalcy without actually committing to it. Committing to anything really, as just coming back here and lurking about like this when he should have been on patrol for the Draugr would more than likely get him in a bit of trouble. But of course, ever since the first night of being home, he had lost all care for rules and other such nonsense.

Michael's heavy steps led him straight through the opening of the village, the entrance closest to Thirst, to Emery's home. Again, as he trudged up the slight bend in the path leading upwards, it felt like he started right where he began: bathed in uncertainty. Uncertain of where he stood within the life he willingly left behind, and the life he had chosen. He was teetering on the fences, not picking one side or the other; having his cake and eating it too. Though, it certainly didn't feel that way. Not to him at least. His stomach churned and twisted about into harsh knots as he stood at the start of the streets that tangled off away from one another. Down one road laid Thirst -- his business, his home, a warming place where he would give anything to be able to walk in without the possibility of being bombarded. Down the other, just around the corner, laid the Frost residence -- the home of his progeny, a reminder that once upon a time Michael had been there for Emery to help hand him the world. His chest tightened, pain bubbling up below his skin.

His dull green eyes looked over to his pub, what of it he could make out from the distance. He could feel the vibrations of people within, could almost taste their elated auras, drunk off the finest liquors provided in these parts. He smiled, halfheartedly. There would be no going there. Not now, and least of all if Iris were working. She would have a field day hollering at him, and as it were Michael knew he was not filled with half the strength he needed to withstand that. 

Then his eyes slide towards his progeny's house. It appeared to be empty, again. It seemed like a hollow shell waiting to be reborn with life inside of it. Strange. He felt the same way; hollow, waiting to be reborn with something substantial. As if on their own, his heavy boots wandered towards the home until they came to the short path leading up to the door. Once there, they froze in place. From where he stood he could not tell whether Emery was inside, not even Rose. Michael's eyes simply stared upwards, surveying the building in a lost gaze that roamed aimlessly. Unfocused pupils barely able to lift themselves without an immense feeling of guilt filling the depth of his stomach. His throat tightened up, choking back said guilt. The Elder's face looked childlike, innocent even, as he stood there only a few feet from the door. His eyes softened, brows slumping and reflecting the bitter sadness in his heart. With no words, Michael moved towards the door and touched its frame tenderly. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath. He imagined that Emery was inside, held up with his wife as the two shared in a laugh. He imagined that they were both tending to the garden outback, with radiating smiles curling on their features. He imagined them glowing, happy... Really, truly happy.

And then his eyes opened. 

Michael's head hung low now as he removed his hand from the door's frame and reality crashed around him. His eyes adjusted through the darkness as a nearby tree shook in a breeze and hid the moon. It was then, as he went to turn from the house, that he noticed a few smudges of dirt near the bottom. For some reason the dirt made him anxious. Emery didn't deserve a dirty place to come home to from wherever he was now. He deserved something nice, something clean -- rid of the filth and grime, and heartbreak and self loathing, and utter incompetence when it came to showing any emotions other than stubbornness when push came to shove. He practically fell to the floor, pulling at the bottom of his pant leg and ripping it off. The Vampire's face hardened, determined to erase the smudged stains at any cost. Just like he would erase all the stupid things he had done recently in his life. Just like he would erase the disappointment in his son, and turn into something clean. Something not so fucking damaged anymore.

Frantically Michael's arms flexed as he worked at the smudges. He grunted as he pressed harder into the surface, his eyebrows furrowing as he moved his arm at a hastened pace. "Come off... Come off..." Soon enough they were gone, washed away as if they had never been there to begin with. Michael sat back on his legs and smiled to himself, pleased. He stood up and tucked the piece of pant leg inside the back of his trousers. He took a look, stepping backwards a bit as his hand stayed on the jagged patch of cloth, content with those ugly blotches finally disappearing. 

From behind him came the snap of a twig. Michael slung his head around, and he froze in place. He just kind of... stared, standing there in the yard and gripping at the cloth as the eyes of his progeny stared back. He could feel his mouth fall open. Michael brought the cloth out from behind him and showed it to Emery as if to explain himself. "I was just... I..." His throat locked up again, refusing to let him speak, and all at once the mixture of emotions he was feeling seemed to hit him like a stampede of wild horses. Michael collapsed inside. He broke. Defeat poured all over his face as his gaze dropped to the floor and his shoulder slumped forward.

He couldn't bare standing in front of Emery. Not like this. 

[thestriga]

And From The Darkness, I Crept Forth. (Part Two)

Night Haven. He barely remembered it. The buildings looked like ancient ruins held together by threads that threatened to snap at any second. The hinges on doors flapped, rocking eerily through the thick fog that blanketed the street. The signs of businesses etched on planks of wood hung ajar on their posts. Everything seemed topsy turvy, spun around and pulled inside out. It just didn't look the same and Michael wasn't sure if he could attribute this to having not seen it in a month or so, or because something much more devastating had passed through. Maybe madness had surfaced here as well. Maybe the battle waging in his head had somehow manifested itself here in such ugly disarray. The Vampire frowned at the ideas that may have birthed this unsettling image. The careful footing of heavy boots went silently across the ground. He was subconsciously cautious of his steps, as though the faint snap of a twig would ignite the awakening of unwanted beasts. Creatures he wouldn't be able to shake off or avoid. Draugr chain mail moved with the tall man's body as he wandered slowly through the village he once knew.

Through pained eyes, it was as if seeing it all for the first time again; the charred side of the crumbling library where a riot had occurred ten years prior, the rose bushes outside the clothing shop he had helped a mortal create before their untimely 'death'. Between every home, every shop, was a secret -- a history bathed with his presence. He could smell himself against every brick, every piece of wood and metal that belonged to these buildings. He could feel himself in their roots; a lifetime of dealing with their many generations of owners, and longtime buyers for what seemed like a millennium. 

His footing turned from caution to ease as the memories faded through his head and lulled him into a beautiful wave of reminiscing. The past he belonged to, the life he had left behind only awhile ago. He missed it, and in the quiet moments alone he longed to be that simple bartender behind the counter in Thirst again. Thirst. His eyes darted to the left, hastily finding his established business just down the road. As usual, picking up speed towards it as he went, dim flickering candle light could be seen beyond the fogged windows to make it known that those inside never slept in the darkness. Michael's ears perked, twitching at the noticeable sound of chatter coming from within, a sound he had once loved. Now, however, he felt undeserving. The boyish smile on his face from being reunited with his home faded out along his features, turning into a small frown. The Vampire turned his back, imagining how content everyone inside to pub must have been, and how his presence only put a stark damper on that contentment. His brain rationalized that if they knew he was out there, watching and listening, they'd surely snub him. Why would they not after abandoning them? 

Michael's back turned to Thirst, and he carried on through the street. His shoulders slouched as his head hung low. These feelings were awful. And he was feeling them because of Emery. Because of the possibility of losing the only good thing he had ever created to the throws of a blood sport. Yet still, Michael couldn't shake the realization that that was his fault anyway. He had so stubbornly left and joined a cult, and it had amounted to nothing but another ill attempt at finding something to hold onto. When all the while there was Emery to hold on to. His time away could have been spent with his family. With Rose and Emery, enjoying their love and seeing the happiness so widespread across his child's face in the presence of his companion. He could have helped Rose around the house, been fascinated with her magick, or learn about who she really was. Could have built a proper relationship with her. He could have laughed with both of them about adventures he had as a young man going through Europe, or when Babanel had taken him up into the mountains and he was chased by a goat. He could have had that, instead of this. Something far better than this.

And of course, somehow he found himself outside the Frost residence -- the home Michael had had built tailor made for the newly weds. His dull eyes looked up at it in awe, but that was when the guilt really set in for him. Red liquid pooled against his green eyes as he imagined what it would feel like to know for certain his son would never return to this place again. To know that the bed inside would lay one person short of full... The Elder forced those hideous thoughts at bay. He had already felt terrible, no sense in making it worse. Michael knew, just a sliver, the responsibility he played in Emery being at the tournament. Of course, he wasn't entirely at fault, but he played a significant role enough to know that his son's blood would have been on his hands too. And yet... Ugh.

Heavy boots lingered around the entrance, but after a few minutes he found the nerve to venture forth. Vines had grown along the house's edge, and the trees' branches along the short pathway dipped towards the ground. From what he could see there were no lights in any windows, nothing that indicated anyone was home. Good, he thought to himself as his legs took him towards the side of the house. Just as he wandered up along the small flowers in the yard, he stopped. Mid-stride. It smelled... Off. Michael looked around himself, eyeing curiously at thin air.

Where is that coming from? Pale skin wrinkled along the Vampire's nose as he scrunched his face slightly. Shaking his head to rid himself of the bothersome scents -- was it more than one? -- he could only assume they had had guests of all sorts coming by.

That was enough to turn him away. Enough to make him solidify how unsure of where he stood with Emery he was. Was the boy getting on just fine without him? Fine enough to have festivals of people coming over? Was he hurting? Was he happy? Was he boiling inside with seething rage that, yet again, his Maker had abandoned him through his inability to see the things right in front of him? Michael quickly wandered from the house and out the back roads of Night Haven. He wasn't interested in sticking around, uninterested in causing anymore trouble for anyone should they find him there. He had to figure himself out; to get out of the Draugr, and to come back home somehow.

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[thestriga]

Unto the earth, the one unwanted is born.

[thestriga]

And From The Darkness, I Crept Forth. (Part One)

Dull colored eyes, like matted and unfocused shades of green pooling against a blackhole, met the light of the blossoming moon as it rested among a sky of sparkling diamonds on ebony silk. The monster's form branched out like a tree, dazzled by the fresh smell of the night that filled his nostrils. A gentle wind passed his features, as if caressing him in a sentimental gesture. A 'good morning' of sorts that seemed to stem from the earth herself. As warm as the welcoming was, it felt out of place against the stoic cheeks of the giant. It had felt far longer than it had been since the universe and he convened in any way that resembled a bond between the two. A valley had been forged, separating one another until they greeted each other as strangers and not the intimate partners they had been in centuries past. The monster's eyes narrowed, a low growl releasing from the pit of his throat as he turned away from the glow of the Moon -- in more ways than one. As the glowing deity watched her child reject her calls, her rays touched his back and shoulders in an effort gone unnoticed to pull him back. She would weep for him in the coming days a mountain of rain that would seem to drench the world.

He did not mirror himself anymore. A stranger in his own skin, the Michael he once was laid like a dormant outsider somewhere inside of him. An alien. Every so often he could feel that part of him pull through, but every time he simply resisted. He resisted everything that had to do with the life he wanted to leave behind, even all the elements he wished he could take. Or rather, had taken with him to begin with.

The creature's body was clad in war gear that would have weighed a lesser man down. Thin sheets of chain mail clung to his otherwise bare torso, leaving more than enough room to move in. Unorthodox armor from another land adorned his legs in the form of thick leathers. The attire was odd, indeed, on a child of the Moon, but the complex of things were strange now, no?  

As he walked along the indented path made within the mangled and overgrown forestry of Hallowed Oaks, "patrolling" for the Draugr Queen, as he called it, he could only harp on the sole thing that seemed to haunt him most now. Though, hadn't the child always haunted him? Seeing his progeny at the tournament, watching him fight for what could have been his last few moments on Earth, shook Michael to his core. It caused him pain, an immense and overwhelming grief that he let out on Calvin when the two were away from all the worry of the Draugr. Even now, as the soldier took stride through the brush far away from the walls of the Draugr Hall, the images preyed upon him. Things between all that surrounded Olia Meadows, felt different about it after that. He no longer looked at the great castle like building with a feeling of pride, or accomplishment. Instead, he looked at it as if it could only be used for whatever gain he had already obtained from it; his haughtiness, his new found god complex. It no longer served its purpose, but the fundamentals behind it... He was torn. Torn, as usual, between right and wrong. The path he longed for seemed muddled all over again. The ever allusive guide he needed, he never seemed to find. Not in Babanel, not in Mother Moon, not in Wisteria, not in Asa. In whom could he entrust himself with anymore? In whom could he find a home? Himself? Ha.

Michael stopped his wandering, falling back against the bark of a tree lining the pathway and slid to the ground. A gentle, somber sound tumbled from his pale lips as he ran anxiety filled fingers through his messy dark hair. He closed his dull eyes and curled his legs til his knees were up to his chest; long arms reached around them, his forehead pressing against them. The weight of whatever armor he wore was no match for the weight of this. This feeling of being lost, of floating in space without something to ground him. In that very moment all Michael wanted to do was see the smile on Emery's face and share even a fraction of a second pulling him close. Anything to smell his scent, to know he was close by. He had left for the Draugr to become a better Maker, a better father, to that boy. And for what? Just for them to put him up on the slaughtering block? That wasn't the point to this. He wasn't turning his back his progeny, but trying to take the time to... just be better. 

Frustrated limbs squeezed around his legs. "Fuck..." His eyes closed tightly, scrunching up his face in pain at the idea. What if he died? What if he had left Emery to do something good, and all he had received was his son in a casket? What then? 

Michael blinked back bloodied tears, hardening up his exterior. He wanted so strongly believe that his actions were done with good intentions, and that he would reap the bounty he longed to sow. He ached to find himself, to get the footing he needed to be who he felt he needed to be -- this unobtainable ideal of "Babanel's son", "Mother Moon's favorite". He just wanted to fill the gaps inside of him, for once. The Elder stood up and began to wander the forest again, in no real direction. For hours he was a vagabond, aimlessly searching through the forest and through his head, taking the time to consider himself and the actions he was taking.

Eventually, he ended up right where he began, at the edge of Night Haven. 

[purplesugar]

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Sun Kil Moon - Among the Leaves

[thestriga]

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