Hello, again.
Today, if you did not read yesterday, I am taking part in something called Characters on Couches. It is hosted by the lovely, and perhaps insane,
Murphy. *snerk* "perhaps", I'm funny.
ANYWAY, if you follow that link it will take you to her blog which you should
totally check out, you know, once you've finished reading here.
Enjoy.
Characters on Couches #1
Damon and Nicholai
Here we go. I've never done
this before, so it will be an experience. But then again, neither
have they. I have called in two of the men from Mortality, Damon and
Nicholai, both vampires, and both fighting on the same side. Nicholai
has an animosity towards Damon that is more than just jealousy, and
we are gathering here today to find out just what that reason is.
Damon arrives first,
punctual, as usual. He wears black pants, tight, but loose enough to
allow movement. His blue shirt just barely shows through the gap in
his long coat. I don't know why he bothers with the coat, we both
know he can't feel the cold. His black hair hangs almost to his
shoulders and no matter how pristine the rest of him is, it's in
perpetually disarray. It doesn't help that he runs his hands through
it constantly, as now.
“Come in, come in, please
sit.”
His deep blue eyes turn to
me, and even as his author a feel a tingle to my fingertips.
“So this is the real
world, then?” He does finally sit, back straight, hands palm-upward
in his lap. He wasn't allowed weapons, though he seems quite
comfortable without them.
I laugh, sitting on the
desk I fashioned for myself, instead of behind it. “It's my world,
if that's what you mean.”
I decided I'd go with a
sort of business-like attire. Keep things professional. But I detest
skirts and so am wearing a nice, dark gray suit. My hair is pulled
back into a neat pony tail, keeping it out of my face and keeping
with the professional motif. The time ticks by as we wait for
Nicholai. My foot taps of its own volition, and out of nowhere the
song “Some Nights” by FUN begins playing.
Damon quirks an eyebrow
slightly as he looks at me, and I can see why Devin would fall for
him, even if she didn't have a choice. I can feel my cheeks redden
as, even though this is my world, I put the music back in my head.
Just as the silence is beginning to get awkward, at least for me, the
door bursts open, slamming against the wall.
“What in the nine hells
is going on? Where are we?” Nicholai.
Perhaps at one time he was
considered handsome. His hair is short and blond, his eyes are a
brilliant, bright green, and his muscles are large and well defined,
while Damon is more lean. However, any good looks he may have had are
destroyed by the sneer that is pasted on his face.
Damon sighs. “We are in
the world of our authour, Nicholai, please try to keep up.”
He is nothing if not
polite, though Nicholai sees the hidden insult. It's cleverly done,
if I do say so, but I clear my throat. Arguments like this will get
us nowhere.
“Now, do you both know
why you are here?” I look to Damon and then to Nicholai, who stands
far too close for my liking. “Please, sit, Nicholai, I can't stand
people who tower over me.”
Nicholai does what I asked,
sprawling in a seat he scrapes against the floor, pushing it farther
away from Damon's. Damon watches with a bemused little smirk, I swear
he knows how good looking he is, but the look disappears before
Nicholai can catch sight of it. He looks directly at me, or through
me (I'm not so sure), as he answers.
“You have not informed us
of what it is you wish, though as it is only the two of us, I can
guess.”
I nod, motioning for him to
continue.
“I wish it to be understood that I bear no animosity
toward Nicholai, he has disliked me from the moment we recruited
him.”
I swear, I love the sound
of his voice.
“And how did you recruit
him?”
“His was an abnormal
case, you see, normally they come to us. But twenty-eight years ago-.
Surely you know this.” His head tilts to the side curiously.
Nicholai continues, not
waiting for my confirmation or denial of knowledge. “Twenty-eight
years, seven months and three days ago, they saved me
from a Hunter.”
“Alright.
I'm confused. Why did their saving you make you hate him?”
“I
could have handled myself quite well without them butting in,” he
shoves his chair back and stands, facing Damon. “You have your
precious Devin now,
but what about me?”
He's
yelling, but Damon just sits there looking up at him, letting it wash
over him.
“You
kill the Huntress “accidentally,”” he actually makes the air
quotes and I fight the urge to giggle. I never giggle. “and then
put in my mind this grand plan to become mortal. What kind of sick
game is that?”
Damon
still doesn't say anything, so I ask. “What was this Huntress to
you?”
He
rounds on me, and if looks could kill, well, his story would never be
told. His voice grows quiet, but no less angry. “She was my Soul
Mate.”
Damon
lets out a small moue of surprise, as I let out a similar squeak.
It's a quite unbecoming sound to make.
Nicholai
turns away from me, not looking at Damon as he heads for the door. “I
will never forgive him.”
As
the door swings shut, Damon looks like if he could, he'd be sick. He
can't go green around the gills, or turn pale, but I recognize that
look on his face. It's the look of someone holding down bile, or
holding back tears. But then again, he can't cry either. He slumps
now, the only time even I have ever seen him lose his composure. He
cradles his head in his hands and speaks to the floor.
“I
had no idea.” At first, I don't think he's going to say anymore,
but before I can go and comfort him, he continues.
“Normally
we try to explain things, set them on the trail of others, some of
Damian's crew perhaps. But she refused to listen. Even then we try to
spare them, perhaps knock them out and leave them some place
harmless.” He takes a deep breath. “I messed up. I let myself
succumb to the Ahrin, and when I returned, well, that werewolf got
off easy.”
He
stands now, and gives me a sad smile. Like the metaphors I use far
too often, it makes my heart ache.
“That
is all you wished, correct?”
“Uhm,
yes.” As he walks toward the door, I remember what I forgot. “Oh!
If you could please tell the girls that I will be seeing them next
week?”
His
back goes rigid. He stops with his hand on the handle. He slowly
turns toward me. “What girls?”
“You
know. Helena, Hope, and Dev-.” Before I can finish her name, I
can't breathe.
I'm
off the desk and Damon has pinned me by my throat to the wall behind.
His eyes are mostly black, though I can tell his fighting the Ahrin.
“You are not putting
her in a room with the two of them.”
I
manage a smirk despite the fact I can't breathe. As I look at him,
the arm pinning me to the wall begins to move of it's own- well, my
own- volition. It's a battle of wills, and I, as his author, am going
to win. His arm is at his side, and I can breathe again.
“You
cannot tell me what to do, Damon Fa'erha.” His eyes narrow in
surprise. “Yes, I know your true name Mr. Damncry. Now,
you will either tell the girls or you won't. That's up to you. But I
will be seeing them.”
I
slip out from around him and pick up my clipboard and pencil.
“Have
a good day.” He bows slightly before gliding through the door.
Once
he's gone I throw myself into the unused plush chair behind my desk
and finally let out the sigh/giggle suppressed the entire time.
“I
take it you enjoyed that?”
The
closet door opens and Hilia stepped out. Her almost lemon-yellow hair
is loose but for two thin braids that circle the crown of her head.
It looks quite lovely. Her sharp green eyes seem to look through me
as she looks at me, however, and goose bumps raise on my arms.
“I
did. So what do you think?”
Hilia
shakes her head, taking a seat in the chair Damon had used. She taps
her chin with her thin, perfectly-manicured fingers. “I know
Damon's mind better than he does, and he did not lie. Nicholai,
however...”
She
trails off.
“Was
he lying?”
“Oh
no, no, you misunderstand me. I am quite certain he was telling the
truth. I do not believe he wishes to become mortal again, however. I
believe he sees his existence as penitence for letting the girl he
spoke of die.” Hilia's eyes are distant as she glances at the other
chair.
“Really?”
Hilia
shakes her head slightly. “I cannot be sure without actually seeing
into his mind. But I am quite sure.”
“Damn...
Never would have guessed. He always did seem like he enjoyed being a
vampire.”
“Oh
no, he does not enjoy it. I do not believe any hates it so much as
he. He feels he deserves it. He deserves it because for all his
strength, he could not save the one he loved.” Hilia stands now and
tips her head to me. She leaves without another word.
Setting
my clipboard and pencil on the desk, I realize I forgot to take
notes. Damn.
