Fan Fiction ❯ Versailles ❯ Blood Relations ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Daremyth 
“You’re a heretic Satanist. It’s painfully obvious, and I don’t know why His Highness hasn’t noticed it yet.”
CHAPTER WARNINGS: language, implied slash, angst, mild lemon, extremely mild violence
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Thriller / Supernatural / Occult / Horror / Hentai / Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.25.2003 | Pages: 6 | Words: 4.9K | Visits: 211 | Status: Work In Progress
“You’re a heretic Satanist. It’s painfully obvious, and I don’t know why His Highness hasn’t noticed it yet.”
CHAPTER WARNINGS: language, implied slash, angst, mild lemon, extremely mild violence
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Thriller / Supernatural / Occult / Horror / Hentai / Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.25.2003 | Pages: 6 | Words: 4.9K | Visits: 211 | Status: Work In Progress
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Title: Versailles
Claimer: I OWN EVERYTHING!! take and you DIE!!
Series: Original
Genre: fantasy, horror, occult, supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slash, dark, gore, vampirism, angst, semi-NCS, explicit violence, explicit language, lemon, het, supernatural-ness, MAJOR squick
Notes: hello! ^.^ mesa was bored a few moments ago, and I finished up the list of Gods and Goddesses for my series "The Chronicles of Nicha". ain't that grand? ^.^ ::sweatdrop:: yes, I know it's not, you don't have to tell me...
Symbols: *emphasis* |thoughts| :telepathy: ~telekenesis/psychokenesis~ +emotions+ _other peoples' thoughts_ ^other worldly dialogue^
Inspirations: er.. ::sweatdrop:: just browsing through the Dark Fantasy, Horror, and Occult sections under Horror on Amazon.com...
Randomness: uhm... ::sweatdrop:: SHEEP!
Music for the Chapter: "Tropical Destination" but the Cynic Project, "Blurry" by Puddle of Mudd
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<i>"What do you <b>mean</b> it's a demon? They don't exist!"
"Ah, but they do, Louis. You'd be surprised how many mystical beings are actually real. And this...'thing' committing all these murders is a demon. A particular type of demon, as well. It's called an algul, and it eats human flesh to survive."
"But...But... How do you <b>know</b> this?"
"...I have my ways. I'll not reveal them to you just yet."</i>
_______________________________________________________ ____________________________
Chapter 3 - Blood Relations
"All right then. Who was the first person to find it?"
Verlassen met his eyes firmly. "I was. A girl rounded the corner just after I walked out of my door, and screamed, which is what I'm assuming woke Louis up," he replied promptly.
He merely gazed at the detective, knowing how he had just put himself under suspicion. Frankly, he didn't care. He knew it wasn't him.
He also knew that Louis was going to kill him, but again, he didn't care.
Emerald eyes stared at him, narrowed to slits. "Really."
The German raised an eyebrow. "Yes, really. I can point her out for you if you'd like; she walked around the corner just as I stepped through the doorway."
He wasn't guilty. And there was no way to prove that he was.
There was a slow, suspicious nod, before leaf-green eyes shifted to the body and Jaune crouched down next to it, hand held up to his nose to block the stench.
"When did this happen?"
He shrugged. "I don't know; I was asleep," he replied instantly. "It often takes an earthquake to wake me up, so nothing like this would have."
The Frenchman's eyes shifted to his again. "Not even someone screaming as she was attacked?"
He shrugged again. "Who's to say she screamed? No one was around to hear her," he replied promptly.
"Yes there were," was the instant, biting retort. "People were asleep in *all* of these rooms."
It was then that Shindeiru spoke up. "Maybe the perpetrator committed the crime somewhere else and dragged the body here..?" His voice was soft, quiet, and hesitant.
Verlassen smirked. :Good Childe,: he whispered into the Japanese man's mind. :I see you actually *do* remember things from when you were in the force in Japan...:
If he'd been able to flush, Shindeiru would have, Verlassen was sure.
It was Shindeiru's turned to be scrutinized by Jaune, and the chestnut-haired man cringed slightly. "And how, exactly, would you have come to that conclusion?"
Again, Shindeiru cringed, and Verlassen stiffened, glaring viciously at Jaune. As little as he liked him, Shindeiru was his Childe and it was his responsibility to protect him. He growled low in the back of his throat, the tone and pitch of it too low for human ears to hear, low enough that even he could barely hear it. Shindeiru's pale jasper eyes lifted sharply to his, startled.
Then he obviously shook himself, and surprising Verlassen, drew up to his full height and met the emerald eyes with his own ruby. "I worked on the Police Force while I lived in Japan," he replied, voice firmer, more confident.
Verlassen smirked, proud of his Childe for the first time in a number of centuries.
Jaune sighed, then, standing up and shaking his head. "I'm tired, and I just want to rest for a moment. Let's call it a day, shall we?"
Louis nodded, and then the two Frenchmen left. Verlassen smirked, and strode toward his door, pausing a moment to pat Shindeiru on the shoulder. "Good work, Pet," he murmured. "Good work."
And behind him, Shindeiru bit his lip and smiled dazedly, slight, blood-red tears glistening in his eyes.
^Verlassen...^
His head snapped upwards, silver eyes fixed on the far corner of his room. They narrowed as they picked up the barest tint of red in the shadowed corner. "Lucifer," he said flatly.
The color brightened slightly, so that a barely visible red mist swirled there. ^Very good, Childe,^ was the darkly amused, sardonic reply, leaving violet sparks to fall in the comment's wake.
He ran a pale hand through his black hair, sighing and shaking his head tiredly. "What do you want this time, Lucifer?" he asked.
There was a bright flash of blood red, before a figure slowly materialized from the now bright red mist. And there Lucifer stood, in all his damned, undead flesh. A jet black eyebrow lifted at him, scarlet eyes glinting in sardonic amusement. "Verlassen, I'm insulted," he jibed, faking insult. "You don't sound very happy to see me!"
Verlassen snorted, sneering slightly. "That's because I'm not," he retorted simply. He stood up, frowning at Lucifer.
The deity before him seemed completely unfazed by the insult, continuing to smirk at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were in Versailles?" he asked.
That was all.
The German rolled his eyes. "Because I didn't want you to know," he snapped. "Why else wouldn't I tell you? Besides, we're not exactly the closest of friends, and I knew you'd find out eventually." He stared impassively at the pale-skinned Devil before him. "It was just a matter of time."
A black eyebrow lifted again. "How long have you been here, anyway?"
Verlassen frowned, thinking. "About two hundred years, I think," he replied. "I only showed myself about ten years ago, though."
He shrugged, before turning his back on Lucifer, knowing it would insult him.
There was a low growl, before snowy-skinned, clawed fingers wrapped harshly around his upper arm and twisted him violently around. "*Never* turn your back on me," Lucifer hissed, ruby eyes flashing crimson fire in an alabaster face.
Verlassen raised an eyebrow as he noticed how short the ebony hair was. "You cut your hair," he observed calmly, not fazed in the least by how angry the King Demon in front of him was.
Lucifer whirled away with a snarl, a sneer on his face. "You're impossible," he snarled. "I don't know why I Sired you!"
His silver eyes darkened and narrowed, but before he could snap anything back, Lucifer disappeared in a swirl of black clouds looking much like a pair of wings curled around something. The clouds disintegrated into ebony sparks, falling softly to the floor.
He turned away, muttering to himself; that last comment had hurt more than he liked to admit. He didn't want to know his Sire hated him...
Shindeiru stared forlornly out of the black-tinted windows, simply not thinking.
It was his attempt to get away from the world. And it normally worked.
^Your lover is a pain in my ass!^
Well, except for today.
He jerked upwards, whirling to find himself staring at a pooling cloud of scarlet mist.
Lucifer.
He blinked, startled, before swallowing nervously and glancing around the room. Had he done something wrong...?
"My-My Lord?" he stammered, pale crimson eyes dancing around like a panicked horse's. "What lover?"
There was a flash of scarlet light, and then Lucifer stood in front of him, frowning at him in confusion. "What do you mean, 'what lover'?" he demanded.
He swallowed again, growing more nervous with each passing second. "I-I have no lover, My Lord," he replied softly, his tension evident in his voice.
Crimson eyes narrowed at him, a frown pulling at the thin, colorless lips, before Lucifer grunted. "Gah, I really need to keep up with my Childer's lives," he muttered, before whirling and pacing the room. Or, more like stalking.
Shindeiru's pale mahogany brows lifted slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not sure what he wanted to say.
The archfiend suddenly stopped pacing and turned sharply towards him, before moving to stand directly in front of him, less than an inch between their faces. Dark, blood red eyes bored into his own pale crimson, and then Lucifer blinked.
"He Changed you!" he exclaimed. "He Sired a Childe without my permission! That *bastard*!" He turned away, snarling to himself. "I need to go," he growled, sparing one last, lingering glance at him, before vanished in a swirl of choking, black clouds.
Shindeiru blinked, confused.
What just happened here...?
The Phlogiston Dimension of Hell was the typical stereotype of what Hell was like. Hotter than any human would be able to survive, with flames everywhere.
The constant smell of smoke was intoxicating and often left him feeling like he was inebriated. It drifted through the nostrils, leaving a sense of dizziness and light-headedness in its wake that was just completely addicting.
It was his favorite Dimension of Hell.
The only light was the flickering amber of flames, which cast dancing shadows over any area not burning.
The whole effect was very ethereal, very seductive. And very, very, dangerous.
Lucifer smirked from where he was sprawled carelessly across his onyx throne, dressed completely in black, studded leather. The shape of an upside-down scythe was tattooed on his face, starting in the outer corner of his left eye.
His slitted, scarlet eyes followed the movement of every demon in his area of vision, sharp eyes picking *every*thing about them up.
His smirk deepened, growing more sinister and malicious.
Evil was good.
Very good.
"Now why would I do that?"
Louis frowned at the other Frenchman in front of him, liking him even less.
Jaune blinked, startled, before running a hand through his golden hair. "Majesty, he-I don't trust him," he managed to stutter after a moment.
The King lifted a chestnut eyebrow coolly at him, expression emotionless, but his eyes were malicious, flashing sable fire. "Hm," he murmured softly, pretending to think it over. Then, sharply, his eyes met those of the detective's, cold and hard. "Well, I don't trust you, either, but I'm putting up with you," he retorted. "So live with it."
He stood up, face impassive and stony. "Hear me, and listen, Jaune," he ordered coldly. His voice became icy and clipped. "I trust Verlassen with my life, and I have since I met him. He is staying; there is no way in *Hell* I would throw him into gaol[1] simply because you don't like him."
Said German suddenly appeared, opening the door and sliding in with a calm, impassive face. However, Louis could see some slight emotional pain swirling with the other repressed, almost non-existent emotions in the platinum eyes. "Highness," he said merely, lifting his chin and an eyebrow in expectation.
"Ah, thank you for showing, Verlassen," he smiled.
A curt nod was his only response, and then silver eyes narrowed as they noticed the other Frenchman standing in the room. Or appeared to, anyway; Louis knew the German had known even before he stepped through the door that Jaune was in here.
Verlassen glanced between the two of them for a moment, a slight frown creasing his forehead and tilting his lips, before he proceeded to completely ignore the detective.
Louis smiled inwardly at this. Verlassen was actually rather amusing at times.
Then he saw the grim look on the German's face, and frowned slightly. "Please don't tell me there's been another one," he murmured.
Verlassen smirked slightly, before it vanished. "No, Highness, there hasn't been," he replied. He glanced out the window, gaze turning inwards. "I am afraid that I must pay a visit to...an old friend, in the city," he began, and Louis nodded. "While I am gone, I fear I must have Shindeiru guard you, for I have no trust whatsoever in Monsieur Bleu." The last part was said as if said Frenchman wasn't there, and Louis could see Jaune stiffen and bristle.
But then he blinked, startled. "You're going to ask Shindeiru to guard me?" His voice was surprised. "I wasn't aware of the fact that you trusted him enough to do that."
A sly glint caught in his eye.
Verlassen frowned and shifted slightly, looking slightly...uncomfortable, Louis released with glee.
"Yes, well, as emotionally inferior he is, he is rather trustworthy, and can actually take care of himself and others," he finally replied, the tone in his voice uncomfortable.
Louis smirked slightly. "Ah, of course. You would not have known him, otherwise," he said simply.
Silver eyes lifted sharply to his, narrowed with suspicion, and Verlassen frowned at him, but didn't comment. Instead, the obsidian-crowned head lifted in a nod of acknowledgment, before he turned sharply and walked out of the room.
Jaune frowned at him. "He's your bodyguard?" His voice was dubious.
Louis merely lifted a ginger brow, not saying anything.
Then there was a soft, timid knock on the door, and Louis glanced at it, frowning slightly. Who could be out there who knocked so quietly? "Come in," he said cautiously.
The door open slightly, and Shindeiru tentatively looked in.
He smiled widely. "Ah, Shindeiru! Come in!" he welcomed.
There was a slight swallow, before the Japanese man shifted into the room, glancing nervously at Jaune. There was a look in his eye that said 'Verlassen doesn't like him; stay away,' and Louis lifted an eyebrow slightly.
Shindeiru licked his lips nervously, glancing at him as he visibly moved as far away from Jaune as he could and remain in the room. "Verlassen told me that I should guard you while he was gone," he said softly, pale vermilion eyes downcast and fixed firmly on the floor.
Louis smiled warmly at him, and he noticed how the Japanese relaxed slightly at that. But Jaune just frowned at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I don't like him either," he announced. Shindeiru flinched, and Louis frowned when he heard the sharp intake of breath.
He glared sharply at the Frenchman at that. "Jaune, if I had wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it," he snapped, cinnamon eyes flashing.
The detective looked taken aback, opened his mouth to retort, then realized he was talking to his king, and shut it.
"Wise move," Louis bit out, voice clipped. Then he glanced towards Shindeiru, and nodded amiably when he looked up.
"Anyway," he began, voice conversational. "I have to visit my wife for a little today, so I would appreciate it if you left, Jaune." His tone was pleasant. "You may return again tomorrow, after I have Verlassen summon you. Come with me, Shindeiru."
Verlassen stalked back into the Chateau, irritated.
"So, who was this 'old friend' you were meeting?"
Bleu was going to die.
Slowly, and painfully.
The German fixed him with a vicious glare, promising of things to come. The blonde just smirked at him, not phased in the least.
He himself just continued to storm down the hallway, body tense as a drawn bow.
The Frenchman, however, followed him.
"What?" he taunted. "Have a bad day in your heresy and Satanic ways?"
He frowned and stopped, turning to stare with narrowed eyes at the emerald-eyed man before him. "What, exactly, do you mean, 'heresy and Satanic ways'?"
Verdant eyes rolled, and the man snorted indelicately. "You know what I speak of," he replied. "You're a heretic Satanist. It's painfully obvious, and I don't know why His Highness hasn't noticed it yet."
Continuing to frown, he just stared at Jaune. "Heretic when considered by Christians, yes," he said finally. "But Satanist? Not bloody likely." He snorted then. "I'm Pagan, Bleu. I don't *believe* in Satan and God."
He was lying of course.
He knew they existed; he'd been Sired by Satan, and God... Well, let's just say, when he'd first been Sired, he'd heard plenty of bad views of God from his Sire. He'd come to detest the more noble deity almost as much as he did Lucifer.
Thick, black-lashed eyes blinked in surprise. "You mean you're actually admitting to being heretic?"
He gave a long-suffering sigh, and shook his head. "Only by Christian views," he retorted, "as I have already said. By Pagan views, you damned Christians are the heretics."
With that, he smirked and left the Frenchman standing there, floundering, in the hallway.
Pagan his ass.
Shindeiru bit his lip, hips thrusting up into the tunnel of his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, and whimpered, arching his back.
His other hand fumbled for the vial of oil he had deliberately placed within an arms reach, then finally clasped it and opened it, dipping his fingers into the liquid.
He hissed as he slid the finger inside himself, eyes clenching shut and liquid red tears glittering at the corners. A sob tore itself from his throat, and he shoved himself back on the second finger he had slithering into himself, little lightning bolts of ecstasy sizzling along his spine.
In his mind, it was Verlassen over him, on top of him, the German pounding harshly into his willing body.
His Sire making him scream, making him arch like a bow as he shoved himself back on the fingers in reality.
After a few minutes, he came violently, and collapsed with a gasp.
Rolling over, he buried himself under the covers, and began to sob.
His body was screaming for his Sire; right now, all he wanted was one last fuck from the ebony-haired Night-Childe.
Of course... Once he was fucked once, he was going to be addicted to it again, just like he had been for the seven hundred years he'd been with his Sire. After Verlassen had left him, he'd spent an entire century in what had appeared to withdrawal symptoms.
And he couldn't help but wonder... Was that natural for a Childe? To crave their Sire so much they went through withdrawal if they left?
...Had Verlassen gone through the same thing?
Now that he thought about it, he realized how unlikely that was. His Sire was just too cool and independent for that to happen.
Another sob wrenched itself from his throat, and he muffled it in the pillow.
Actually, he realized, he didn't really want his Sire to fuck him. All he really wanted, was for the older man to appreciate him, and treat him like more than just a slave too stupid to do anything for himself. He wanted affection, but that was something he knew all too well he was very unlikely to get.
He tensed visibly, smelling something in the room that hadn't been there moments before.
Was that...roses?
Confused, he looked cautiously to his right, and saw a swirling mist accumulating in the far corner. Only this mist wasn't blood red; it was a pale blue, almost white.
He sat up, frowning in bewilderment. What the hell?
As he waited for whatever deity it was that was visiting him to become visible, he ran a hand through his hair, before brushing it back into the natural flare at the ends.
Then suddenly, there was a blinding flash of white-blue light, and when it and spots cleared from his eyes, before him stood someone with honey-blonde hair, and eyes the color of the sky. Long bangs fell into his face, and the hair reached his waist.[2]
The expression on the man's face finally made him realize who was standing before him.
Ah. This must be God.
Confused, he glanced around him, trying to figure out why God was visiting him.
"Hey."
Suddenly, the golden-skinned deity was sitting next to him on the bed, concern in the guileless eyes. "What's wrong? It's not often you find a Childe of Lucifer sobbing," he murmured. Shindeiru noticed there was a brief, panicked look in the endless eyes at the mention of the ruler of Hell, but chose not to say anything.
The Japanese shifted uncomfortably, not used to this kind of concern. He glanced sideways at God, unable to fathom why the deity actually cared.
"Why do you care?" he whispered, eyes downcast. "I'm a Da'mpyre[3]. Why would you care about a Childe of Lucifer?"
Abruptly, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him to rest comfortably against the surprisingly strong chest. He stiffened sharply, not really wanting the contact, and terrified of how Verlassen would react to him smelling of God. But the blonde didn't remove his arm, just smiled down at him, face seeming to glow with the expression. "I care about everyone, child," the silky voice replied. "Childe of the Night or not. I care about Da'mpyres, Va'mpyres, Demons, thieves, whores, murderers, peasants, even the lowest life form. I care about everything on this world, and in the nine Dimensions of Hell and the five Dimensions of Heaven."
"Even Lucifer?" he asked, voice still soft.
At that, the form he was held so close to stiffened, eyes wide and panicked for a moment, before slumping forward. "Yeah," came the whispered reply. "Even Lucifer."
There was something odd about the way the deity had reacted to the darker name, something oddly similar to the way he reacted to Verlassen's. He blinked, and his jaw dropped as he realized what.
"You're in *love* with him!"
The deity flinched, eyes clenching shut. "Yeah, I am," he was the near-inaudible reply.
He licked his lips nervously. "I'm... I'm sorry if I caused you pain by saying that," he murmured, eyes again downcast.
God looked at him, the most peculiar gleam in his eye. "You are so strange," he finally said. "So polite. And to *me*! Most Childer[4] of Lucifer are so rude and hostile." He paused, smiling as a golden eyebrow lifted. "It's a nice change, I'll tell you that."
Then he stood, brushing a lock of mahogany hair out of Shindeiru's face, before backing up and smiling warmly. "I'm afraid I must go," he informed him. "If you ever need any solace, just call for me. I'll be here; if I'm not, it's because I'm busy. I'll send an angel, cherub, or seraph in my place." His smile widened, and he winked saucily. "Maybe even an archangel."
Then, he vanished, leaving a curl of white-blue smoke in his wake.
Shindeiru sat there, confused.
What had just happened here?
As he walked by Shindeiru's door and to his own, Verlassen frowned, backing up and sniffing. Frown deepening, he opened the door into Shindeiru's rooms, and was smacked in the face by an oddly familiar scent. Irritated, he stalked into his Childe's bedroom, but froze just outside the door when he heard a voice.
One that was not at all familiar.
"I'm afraid I must go," that voice said. "If you ever need any solace, just call for me. I'll be here; if I'm not, it's because I'm busy." There was a definite smile in the voice. "I'll send an angel, cherub or seraph in my place." Small pause as Verlassen stiffened, seething. "Maybe even an archangel."
There was a soft sort of whooshing sound, and the German threw the door open and snarled at his Childe. "What the *hell* was God doing in here?!"
*That* was why the smell had been so familiar; he'd been able to smell it on Lucifer whenever his Sire had returned from an escapade into Heaven to torture the lighter deity.
Eyes that had been confused as they stared at where God had obviously be standing turned panicked as they realized he was in the room. The younger Da'mpyre skittered backwards along his bed, eyes wide enough to show the whites all around. He advanced on his Childe, rage flashing in his platinum eyes.
"Well?" he growled.
"I-I don't know!" was Shindeiru's panicked response. "I was laying there and he suddenly appeared! I don't *know* why!"
He lunged forward, hand pulled back and fisted, and Shindeiru flinched violently, eyes clenching as he whimpered. That finally got through to his head, and he pulled the blow seconds before he would have snapped the brunette's nose. Instead, his fist connected with the pillow, missing the cringing form's head by a mere millimeter.
Shindeiru had never lied to him before, and he was completely certain his Childe wasn't going to ever be able to.
He backed up slightly, looking over the shivering form laying back on the bed. With a sigh, he sat down. It was time to repair an entire millenium of damage he'd caused.
"Come here," he murmured.
Wide, terrified eyes stared at him, but Shindeiru made no move to get any closer.
So he opened his arms.
And the shivering form suddenly shot across the bed, recognizing the motion for what it was. He hadn't held his Childe like this since the first century Shindeiru had been a Da'mpyre. He closed his arms around the smaller man, gently tugging him into his lap, and rested his chin on top of the chestnut-crowned head buried in his throat.
The younger Night-Childe was shaking violently he realized, and as his shirt became damp, he realized he was crying, too.
With a soft, completely uncharacteristic smile, he layed down, pulling his Childe with him, letting him cry himself out. He couldn't tell if the tears were from joy, sorrow, or both, but he knew they needed to be let out. Otherwise, his Childe would pine himself to death.
All the while, he made soft, soothing noises, talking comfortingly.
This closeness between them was long overdue.
At first, their relationship had been exactly like this. Verlassen cared for his Childe, protected him, and when Shindeiru was frightened or depressed, he soothed him, comforted him. And in return... Shindeiru had worshipped him, bent over backwards to make him happy.
It had gotten out of hand after that first century; he'd let the awe Shindeiru had for him get to his head, as much as he hated admitting it, and grown cold and conceited. He'd demanded impossible things of Childe, and hardly rewarded him when he did it. When he didn't... He'd been punished.
He knew how much Shindeiru craved affection; that had always been his worst fault.
He was going to get it again, though. Verlassen knew Shindeiru was probably *craving* the relationship they'd had at first.
|Well.| Verlassen smirked. |He's going to get it.|
And Shindeiru continued to cry himself out in his chest.
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1. gaol is simply another, older term for jail
2. hm. for the hair and eye colors, think of Quistis from Final Fantasy 8. for the hair style, think of Zechs Merquise/Milliardo Peacecraft from Gundam Wing
3. Da'mpyre (DAMM-pighr)- a Vampire that walks during the day and doesn't explode into dust
4. Childer, pronounced exactly like it looks, is the plural of Childe.
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hmm... a couple notes.
1. For those Christians out there who don't like my impersonations of Lucifer/Satan or God, I'm sorry. Frankly, I don't care. Don't take offense, please, because none was intended. This is just the way I picture them. And the whole bit with God in love with Lucifer? *PLEASE*. Don't flame me. It's how *I* believe my story should work. They are purely fictional in this, so I can characterize them as I'd like. Don't flame me, and we'll get along just fine. ^.^
2. Now. I bet you're wondering about my constant references of "Night-Childe", "Childe/r of Lucifer", "Childe" and "Sire." Well. A Night-Childe is pretty much any sort of demon. ^.^ They're are thousands of different types in this story, and 99.9999% will not be mentioned. Childe/r of Lucifer are pretty much the same thing. A Childe is a vampire/da'mpyre that was turned. The Sire is the vampire/da'mpyre that turned the Childe. Um... I think that should settle any confusion. Oh! Can a vampire be a Childe and a Sire? Yes. Verlassen, for example, is the Childe of Lucifer (meant literally; Lucifer turned him), yet the Sire of Shindeiru.
3. Jaune Bleu. Isn't he a dick? He himself is a demon, but I won't tell you what type; I've already said too much. He's very prejudice against anyone not French. Why? Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not very sure. ^.^
4. Yeah, yeah, I know... It's a little early in the story to have Verlassen start being nicer to Shindeiru. Well, it'll take a while for Shindeiru to really learn to trust him again, then longer for him to trust others he knows, and then... Well, a lot longer for him to be anything but self-conscious and terrified around those he doesn't know.
so... ::blink:: I think I'm done with my rambling.
feedback would be nice, comments thanked, and constructive criticism adored and appreciated. flames will be used to make a bonfire out in my backyard. it's freakin' cold up here in New England! ::shiver::</html>
Title: Versailles
Claimer: I OWN EVERYTHING!! take and you DIE!!
Series: Original
Genre: fantasy, horror, occult, supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slash, dark, gore, vampirism, angst, semi-NCS, explicit violence, explicit language, lemon, het, supernatural-ness, MAJOR squick
Notes: hello! ^.^ mesa was bored a few moments ago, and I finished up the list of Gods and Goddesses for my series "The Chronicles of Nicha". ain't that grand? ^.^ ::sweatdrop:: yes, I know it's not, you don't have to tell me...
Symbols: *emphasis* |thoughts| :telepathy: ~telekenesis/psychokenesis~ +emotions+ _other peoples' thoughts_ ^other worldly dialogue^
Inspirations: er.. ::sweatdrop:: just browsing through the Dark Fantasy, Horror, and Occult sections under Horror on Amazon.com...
Randomness: uhm... ::sweatdrop:: SHEEP!
Music for the Chapter: "Tropical Destination" but the Cynic Project, "Blurry" by Puddle of Mudd
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<i>"What do you <b>mean</b> it's a demon? They don't exist!"
"Ah, but they do, Louis. You'd be surprised how many mystical beings are actually real. And this...'thing' committing all these murders is a demon. A particular type of demon, as well. It's called an algul, and it eats human flesh to survive."
"But...But... How do you <b>know</b> this?"
"...I have my ways. I'll not reveal them to you just yet."</i>
_______________________________________________________ ____________________________
Chapter 3 - Blood Relations
"All right then. Who was the first person to find it?"
Verlassen met his eyes firmly. "I was. A girl rounded the corner just after I walked out of my door, and screamed, which is what I'm assuming woke Louis up," he replied promptly.
He merely gazed at the detective, knowing how he had just put himself under suspicion. Frankly, he didn't care. He knew it wasn't him.
He also knew that Louis was going to kill him, but again, he didn't care.
Emerald eyes stared at him, narrowed to slits. "Really."
The German raised an eyebrow. "Yes, really. I can point her out for you if you'd like; she walked around the corner just as I stepped through the doorway."
He wasn't guilty. And there was no way to prove that he was.
There was a slow, suspicious nod, before leaf-green eyes shifted to the body and Jaune crouched down next to it, hand held up to his nose to block the stench.
"When did this happen?"
He shrugged. "I don't know; I was asleep," he replied instantly. "It often takes an earthquake to wake me up, so nothing like this would have."
The Frenchman's eyes shifted to his again. "Not even someone screaming as she was attacked?"
He shrugged again. "Who's to say she screamed? No one was around to hear her," he replied promptly.
"Yes there were," was the instant, biting retort. "People were asleep in *all* of these rooms."
It was then that Shindeiru spoke up. "Maybe the perpetrator committed the crime somewhere else and dragged the body here..?" His voice was soft, quiet, and hesitant.
Verlassen smirked. :Good Childe,: he whispered into the Japanese man's mind. :I see you actually *do* remember things from when you were in the force in Japan...:
If he'd been able to flush, Shindeiru would have, Verlassen was sure.
It was Shindeiru's turned to be scrutinized by Jaune, and the chestnut-haired man cringed slightly. "And how, exactly, would you have come to that conclusion?"
Again, Shindeiru cringed, and Verlassen stiffened, glaring viciously at Jaune. As little as he liked him, Shindeiru was his Childe and it was his responsibility to protect him. He growled low in the back of his throat, the tone and pitch of it too low for human ears to hear, low enough that even he could barely hear it. Shindeiru's pale jasper eyes lifted sharply to his, startled.
Then he obviously shook himself, and surprising Verlassen, drew up to his full height and met the emerald eyes with his own ruby. "I worked on the Police Force while I lived in Japan," he replied, voice firmer, more confident.
Verlassen smirked, proud of his Childe for the first time in a number of centuries.
Jaune sighed, then, standing up and shaking his head. "I'm tired, and I just want to rest for a moment. Let's call it a day, shall we?"
Louis nodded, and then the two Frenchmen left. Verlassen smirked, and strode toward his door, pausing a moment to pat Shindeiru on the shoulder. "Good work, Pet," he murmured. "Good work."
And behind him, Shindeiru bit his lip and smiled dazedly, slight, blood-red tears glistening in his eyes.
^Verlassen...^
His head snapped upwards, silver eyes fixed on the far corner of his room. They narrowed as they picked up the barest tint of red in the shadowed corner. "Lucifer," he said flatly.
The color brightened slightly, so that a barely visible red mist swirled there. ^Very good, Childe,^ was the darkly amused, sardonic reply, leaving violet sparks to fall in the comment's wake.
He ran a pale hand through his black hair, sighing and shaking his head tiredly. "What do you want this time, Lucifer?" he asked.
There was a bright flash of blood red, before a figure slowly materialized from the now bright red mist. And there Lucifer stood, in all his damned, undead flesh. A jet black eyebrow lifted at him, scarlet eyes glinting in sardonic amusement. "Verlassen, I'm insulted," he jibed, faking insult. "You don't sound very happy to see me!"
Verlassen snorted, sneering slightly. "That's because I'm not," he retorted simply. He stood up, frowning at Lucifer.
The deity before him seemed completely unfazed by the insult, continuing to smirk at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were in Versailles?" he asked.
That was all.
The German rolled his eyes. "Because I didn't want you to know," he snapped. "Why else wouldn't I tell you? Besides, we're not exactly the closest of friends, and I knew you'd find out eventually." He stared impassively at the pale-skinned Devil before him. "It was just a matter of time."
A black eyebrow lifted again. "How long have you been here, anyway?"
Verlassen frowned, thinking. "About two hundred years, I think," he replied. "I only showed myself about ten years ago, though."
He shrugged, before turning his back on Lucifer, knowing it would insult him.
There was a low growl, before snowy-skinned, clawed fingers wrapped harshly around his upper arm and twisted him violently around. "*Never* turn your back on me," Lucifer hissed, ruby eyes flashing crimson fire in an alabaster face.
Verlassen raised an eyebrow as he noticed how short the ebony hair was. "You cut your hair," he observed calmly, not fazed in the least by how angry the King Demon in front of him was.
Lucifer whirled away with a snarl, a sneer on his face. "You're impossible," he snarled. "I don't know why I Sired you!"
His silver eyes darkened and narrowed, but before he could snap anything back, Lucifer disappeared in a swirl of black clouds looking much like a pair of wings curled around something. The clouds disintegrated into ebony sparks, falling softly to the floor.
He turned away, muttering to himself; that last comment had hurt more than he liked to admit. He didn't want to know his Sire hated him...
Shindeiru stared forlornly out of the black-tinted windows, simply not thinking.
It was his attempt to get away from the world. And it normally worked.
^Your lover is a pain in my ass!^
Well, except for today.
He jerked upwards, whirling to find himself staring at a pooling cloud of scarlet mist.
Lucifer.
He blinked, startled, before swallowing nervously and glancing around the room. Had he done something wrong...?
"My-My Lord?" he stammered, pale crimson eyes dancing around like a panicked horse's. "What lover?"
There was a flash of scarlet light, and then Lucifer stood in front of him, frowning at him in confusion. "What do you mean, 'what lover'?" he demanded.
He swallowed again, growing more nervous with each passing second. "I-I have no lover, My Lord," he replied softly, his tension evident in his voice.
Crimson eyes narrowed at him, a frown pulling at the thin, colorless lips, before Lucifer grunted. "Gah, I really need to keep up with my Childer's lives," he muttered, before whirling and pacing the room. Or, more like stalking.
Shindeiru's pale mahogany brows lifted slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not sure what he wanted to say.
The archfiend suddenly stopped pacing and turned sharply towards him, before moving to stand directly in front of him, less than an inch between their faces. Dark, blood red eyes bored into his own pale crimson, and then Lucifer blinked.
"He Changed you!" he exclaimed. "He Sired a Childe without my permission! That *bastard*!" He turned away, snarling to himself. "I need to go," he growled, sparing one last, lingering glance at him, before vanished in a swirl of choking, black clouds.
Shindeiru blinked, confused.
What just happened here...?
The Phlogiston Dimension of Hell was the typical stereotype of what Hell was like. Hotter than any human would be able to survive, with flames everywhere.
The constant smell of smoke was intoxicating and often left him feeling like he was inebriated. It drifted through the nostrils, leaving a sense of dizziness and light-headedness in its wake that was just completely addicting.
It was his favorite Dimension of Hell.
The only light was the flickering amber of flames, which cast dancing shadows over any area not burning.
The whole effect was very ethereal, very seductive. And very, very, dangerous.
Lucifer smirked from where he was sprawled carelessly across his onyx throne, dressed completely in black, studded leather. The shape of an upside-down scythe was tattooed on his face, starting in the outer corner of his left eye.
His slitted, scarlet eyes followed the movement of every demon in his area of vision, sharp eyes picking *every*thing about them up.
His smirk deepened, growing more sinister and malicious.
Evil was good.
Very good.
"Now why would I do that?"
Louis frowned at the other Frenchman in front of him, liking him even less.
Jaune blinked, startled, before running a hand through his golden hair. "Majesty, he-I don't trust him," he managed to stutter after a moment.
The King lifted a chestnut eyebrow coolly at him, expression emotionless, but his eyes were malicious, flashing sable fire. "Hm," he murmured softly, pretending to think it over. Then, sharply, his eyes met those of the detective's, cold and hard. "Well, I don't trust you, either, but I'm putting up with you," he retorted. "So live with it."
He stood up, face impassive and stony. "Hear me, and listen, Jaune," he ordered coldly. His voice became icy and clipped. "I trust Verlassen with my life, and I have since I met him. He is staying; there is no way in *Hell* I would throw him into gaol[1] simply because you don't like him."
Said German suddenly appeared, opening the door and sliding in with a calm, impassive face. However, Louis could see some slight emotional pain swirling with the other repressed, almost non-existent emotions in the platinum eyes. "Highness," he said merely, lifting his chin and an eyebrow in expectation.
"Ah, thank you for showing, Verlassen," he smiled.
A curt nod was his only response, and then silver eyes narrowed as they noticed the other Frenchman standing in the room. Or appeared to, anyway; Louis knew the German had known even before he stepped through the door that Jaune was in here.
Verlassen glanced between the two of them for a moment, a slight frown creasing his forehead and tilting his lips, before he proceeded to completely ignore the detective.
Louis smiled inwardly at this. Verlassen was actually rather amusing at times.
Then he saw the grim look on the German's face, and frowned slightly. "Please don't tell me there's been another one," he murmured.
Verlassen smirked slightly, before it vanished. "No, Highness, there hasn't been," he replied. He glanced out the window, gaze turning inwards. "I am afraid that I must pay a visit to...an old friend, in the city," he began, and Louis nodded. "While I am gone, I fear I must have Shindeiru guard you, for I have no trust whatsoever in Monsieur Bleu." The last part was said as if said Frenchman wasn't there, and Louis could see Jaune stiffen and bristle.
But then he blinked, startled. "You're going to ask Shindeiru to guard me?" His voice was surprised. "I wasn't aware of the fact that you trusted him enough to do that."
A sly glint caught in his eye.
Verlassen frowned and shifted slightly, looking slightly...uncomfortable, Louis released with glee.
"Yes, well, as emotionally inferior he is, he is rather trustworthy, and can actually take care of himself and others," he finally replied, the tone in his voice uncomfortable.
Louis smirked slightly. "Ah, of course. You would not have known him, otherwise," he said simply.
Silver eyes lifted sharply to his, narrowed with suspicion, and Verlassen frowned at him, but didn't comment. Instead, the obsidian-crowned head lifted in a nod of acknowledgment, before he turned sharply and walked out of the room.
Jaune frowned at him. "He's your bodyguard?" His voice was dubious.
Louis merely lifted a ginger brow, not saying anything.
Then there was a soft, timid knock on the door, and Louis glanced at it, frowning slightly. Who could be out there who knocked so quietly? "Come in," he said cautiously.
The door open slightly, and Shindeiru tentatively looked in.
He smiled widely. "Ah, Shindeiru! Come in!" he welcomed.
There was a slight swallow, before the Japanese man shifted into the room, glancing nervously at Jaune. There was a look in his eye that said 'Verlassen doesn't like him; stay away,' and Louis lifted an eyebrow slightly.
Shindeiru licked his lips nervously, glancing at him as he visibly moved as far away from Jaune as he could and remain in the room. "Verlassen told me that I should guard you while he was gone," he said softly, pale vermilion eyes downcast and fixed firmly on the floor.
Louis smiled warmly at him, and he noticed how the Japanese relaxed slightly at that. But Jaune just frowned at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I don't like him either," he announced. Shindeiru flinched, and Louis frowned when he heard the sharp intake of breath.
He glared sharply at the Frenchman at that. "Jaune, if I had wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it," he snapped, cinnamon eyes flashing.
The detective looked taken aback, opened his mouth to retort, then realized he was talking to his king, and shut it.
"Wise move," Louis bit out, voice clipped. Then he glanced towards Shindeiru, and nodded amiably when he looked up.
"Anyway," he began, voice conversational. "I have to visit my wife for a little today, so I would appreciate it if you left, Jaune." His tone was pleasant. "You may return again tomorrow, after I have Verlassen summon you. Come with me, Shindeiru."
Verlassen stalked back into the Chateau, irritated.
"So, who was this 'old friend' you were meeting?"
Bleu was going to die.
Slowly, and painfully.
The German fixed him with a vicious glare, promising of things to come. The blonde just smirked at him, not phased in the least.
He himself just continued to storm down the hallway, body tense as a drawn bow.
The Frenchman, however, followed him.
"What?" he taunted. "Have a bad day in your heresy and Satanic ways?"
He frowned and stopped, turning to stare with narrowed eyes at the emerald-eyed man before him. "What, exactly, do you mean, 'heresy and Satanic ways'?"
Verdant eyes rolled, and the man snorted indelicately. "You know what I speak of," he replied. "You're a heretic Satanist. It's painfully obvious, and I don't know why His Highness hasn't noticed it yet."
Continuing to frown, he just stared at Jaune. "Heretic when considered by Christians, yes," he said finally. "But Satanist? Not bloody likely." He snorted then. "I'm Pagan, Bleu. I don't *believe* in Satan and God."
He was lying of course.
He knew they existed; he'd been Sired by Satan, and God... Well, let's just say, when he'd first been Sired, he'd heard plenty of bad views of God from his Sire. He'd come to detest the more noble deity almost as much as he did Lucifer.
Thick, black-lashed eyes blinked in surprise. "You mean you're actually admitting to being heretic?"
He gave a long-suffering sigh, and shook his head. "Only by Christian views," he retorted, "as I have already said. By Pagan views, you damned Christians are the heretics."
With that, he smirked and left the Frenchman standing there, floundering, in the hallway.
Pagan his ass.
Shindeiru bit his lip, hips thrusting up into the tunnel of his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, and whimpered, arching his back.
His other hand fumbled for the vial of oil he had deliberately placed within an arms reach, then finally clasped it and opened it, dipping his fingers into the liquid.
He hissed as he slid the finger inside himself, eyes clenching shut and liquid red tears glittering at the corners. A sob tore itself from his throat, and he shoved himself back on the second finger he had slithering into himself, little lightning bolts of ecstasy sizzling along his spine.
In his mind, it was Verlassen over him, on top of him, the German pounding harshly into his willing body.
His Sire making him scream, making him arch like a bow as he shoved himself back on the fingers in reality.
After a few minutes, he came violently, and collapsed with a gasp.
Rolling over, he buried himself under the covers, and began to sob.
His body was screaming for his Sire; right now, all he wanted was one last fuck from the ebony-haired Night-Childe.
Of course... Once he was fucked once, he was going to be addicted to it again, just like he had been for the seven hundred years he'd been with his Sire. After Verlassen had left him, he'd spent an entire century in what had appeared to withdrawal symptoms.
And he couldn't help but wonder... Was that natural for a Childe? To crave their Sire so much they went through withdrawal if they left?
...Had Verlassen gone through the same thing?
Now that he thought about it, he realized how unlikely that was. His Sire was just too cool and independent for that to happen.
Another sob wrenched itself from his throat, and he muffled it in the pillow.
Actually, he realized, he didn't really want his Sire to fuck him. All he really wanted, was for the older man to appreciate him, and treat him like more than just a slave too stupid to do anything for himself. He wanted affection, but that was something he knew all too well he was very unlikely to get.
He tensed visibly, smelling something in the room that hadn't been there moments before.
Was that...roses?
Confused, he looked cautiously to his right, and saw a swirling mist accumulating in the far corner. Only this mist wasn't blood red; it was a pale blue, almost white.
He sat up, frowning in bewilderment. What the hell?
As he waited for whatever deity it was that was visiting him to become visible, he ran a hand through his hair, before brushing it back into the natural flare at the ends.
Then suddenly, there was a blinding flash of white-blue light, and when it and spots cleared from his eyes, before him stood someone with honey-blonde hair, and eyes the color of the sky. Long bangs fell into his face, and the hair reached his waist.[2]
The expression on the man's face finally made him realize who was standing before him.
Ah. This must be God.
Confused, he glanced around him, trying to figure out why God was visiting him.
"Hey."
Suddenly, the golden-skinned deity was sitting next to him on the bed, concern in the guileless eyes. "What's wrong? It's not often you find a Childe of Lucifer sobbing," he murmured. Shindeiru noticed there was a brief, panicked look in the endless eyes at the mention of the ruler of Hell, but chose not to say anything.
The Japanese shifted uncomfortably, not used to this kind of concern. He glanced sideways at God, unable to fathom why the deity actually cared.
"Why do you care?" he whispered, eyes downcast. "I'm a Da'mpyre[3]. Why would you care about a Childe of Lucifer?"
Abruptly, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him to rest comfortably against the surprisingly strong chest. He stiffened sharply, not really wanting the contact, and terrified of how Verlassen would react to him smelling of God. But the blonde didn't remove his arm, just smiled down at him, face seeming to glow with the expression. "I care about everyone, child," the silky voice replied. "Childe of the Night or not. I care about Da'mpyres, Va'mpyres, Demons, thieves, whores, murderers, peasants, even the lowest life form. I care about everything on this world, and in the nine Dimensions of Hell and the five Dimensions of Heaven."
"Even Lucifer?" he asked, voice still soft.
At that, the form he was held so close to stiffened, eyes wide and panicked for a moment, before slumping forward. "Yeah," came the whispered reply. "Even Lucifer."
There was something odd about the way the deity had reacted to the darker name, something oddly similar to the way he reacted to Verlassen's. He blinked, and his jaw dropped as he realized what.
"You're in *love* with him!"
The deity flinched, eyes clenching shut. "Yeah, I am," he was the near-inaudible reply.
He licked his lips nervously. "I'm... I'm sorry if I caused you pain by saying that," he murmured, eyes again downcast.
God looked at him, the most peculiar gleam in his eye. "You are so strange," he finally said. "So polite. And to *me*! Most Childer[4] of Lucifer are so rude and hostile." He paused, smiling as a golden eyebrow lifted. "It's a nice change, I'll tell you that."
Then he stood, brushing a lock of mahogany hair out of Shindeiru's face, before backing up and smiling warmly. "I'm afraid I must go," he informed him. "If you ever need any solace, just call for me. I'll be here; if I'm not, it's because I'm busy. I'll send an angel, cherub, or seraph in my place." His smile widened, and he winked saucily. "Maybe even an archangel."
Then, he vanished, leaving a curl of white-blue smoke in his wake.
Shindeiru sat there, confused.
What had just happened here?
As he walked by Shindeiru's door and to his own, Verlassen frowned, backing up and sniffing. Frown deepening, he opened the door into Shindeiru's rooms, and was smacked in the face by an oddly familiar scent. Irritated, he stalked into his Childe's bedroom, but froze just outside the door when he heard a voice.
One that was not at all familiar.
"I'm afraid I must go," that voice said. "If you ever need any solace, just call for me. I'll be here; if I'm not, it's because I'm busy." There was a definite smile in the voice. "I'll send an angel, cherub or seraph in my place." Small pause as Verlassen stiffened, seething. "Maybe even an archangel."
There was a soft sort of whooshing sound, and the German threw the door open and snarled at his Childe. "What the *hell* was God doing in here?!"
*That* was why the smell had been so familiar; he'd been able to smell it on Lucifer whenever his Sire had returned from an escapade into Heaven to torture the lighter deity.
Eyes that had been confused as they stared at where God had obviously be standing turned panicked as they realized he was in the room. The younger Da'mpyre skittered backwards along his bed, eyes wide enough to show the whites all around. He advanced on his Childe, rage flashing in his platinum eyes.
"Well?" he growled.
"I-I don't know!" was Shindeiru's panicked response. "I was laying there and he suddenly appeared! I don't *know* why!"
He lunged forward, hand pulled back and fisted, and Shindeiru flinched violently, eyes clenching as he whimpered. That finally got through to his head, and he pulled the blow seconds before he would have snapped the brunette's nose. Instead, his fist connected with the pillow, missing the cringing form's head by a mere millimeter.
Shindeiru had never lied to him before, and he was completely certain his Childe wasn't going to ever be able to.
He backed up slightly, looking over the shivering form laying back on the bed. With a sigh, he sat down. It was time to repair an entire millenium of damage he'd caused.
"Come here," he murmured.
Wide, terrified eyes stared at him, but Shindeiru made no move to get any closer.
So he opened his arms.
And the shivering form suddenly shot across the bed, recognizing the motion for what it was. He hadn't held his Childe like this since the first century Shindeiru had been a Da'mpyre. He closed his arms around the smaller man, gently tugging him into his lap, and rested his chin on top of the chestnut-crowned head buried in his throat.
The younger Night-Childe was shaking violently he realized, and as his shirt became damp, he realized he was crying, too.
With a soft, completely uncharacteristic smile, he layed down, pulling his Childe with him, letting him cry himself out. He couldn't tell if the tears were from joy, sorrow, or both, but he knew they needed to be let out. Otherwise, his Childe would pine himself to death.
All the while, he made soft, soothing noises, talking comfortingly.
This closeness between them was long overdue.
At first, their relationship had been exactly like this. Verlassen cared for his Childe, protected him, and when Shindeiru was frightened or depressed, he soothed him, comforted him. And in return... Shindeiru had worshipped him, bent over backwards to make him happy.
It had gotten out of hand after that first century; he'd let the awe Shindeiru had for him get to his head, as much as he hated admitting it, and grown cold and conceited. He'd demanded impossible things of Childe, and hardly rewarded him when he did it. When he didn't... He'd been punished.
He knew how much Shindeiru craved affection; that had always been his worst fault.
He was going to get it again, though. Verlassen knew Shindeiru was probably *craving* the relationship they'd had at first.
|Well.| Verlassen smirked. |He's going to get it.|
And Shindeiru continued to cry himself out in his chest.
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1. gaol is simply another, older term for jail
2. hm. for the hair and eye colors, think of Quistis from Final Fantasy 8. for the hair style, think of Zechs Merquise/Milliardo Peacecraft from Gundam Wing
3. Da'mpyre (DAMM-pighr)- a Vampire that walks during the day and doesn't explode into dust
4. Childer, pronounced exactly like it looks, is the plural of Childe.
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hmm... a couple notes.
1. For those Christians out there who don't like my impersonations of Lucifer/Satan or God, I'm sorry. Frankly, I don't care. Don't take offense, please, because none was intended. This is just the way I picture them. And the whole bit with God in love with Lucifer? *PLEASE*. Don't flame me. It's how *I* believe my story should work. They are purely fictional in this, so I can characterize them as I'd like. Don't flame me, and we'll get along just fine. ^.^
2. Now. I bet you're wondering about my constant references of "Night-Childe", "Childe/r of Lucifer", "Childe" and "Sire." Well. A Night-Childe is pretty much any sort of demon. ^.^ They're are thousands of different types in this story, and 99.9999% will not be mentioned. Childe/r of Lucifer are pretty much the same thing. A Childe is a vampire/da'mpyre that was turned. The Sire is the vampire/da'mpyre that turned the Childe. Um... I think that should settle any confusion. Oh! Can a vampire be a Childe and a Sire? Yes. Verlassen, for example, is the Childe of Lucifer (meant literally; Lucifer turned him), yet the Sire of Shindeiru.
3. Jaune Bleu. Isn't he a dick? He himself is a demon, but I won't tell you what type; I've already said too much. He's very prejudice against anyone not French. Why? Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not very sure. ^.^
4. Yeah, yeah, I know... It's a little early in the story to have Verlassen start being nicer to Shindeiru. Well, it'll take a while for Shindeiru to really learn to trust him again, then longer for him to trust others he knows, and then... Well, a lot longer for him to be anything but self-conscious and terrified around those he doesn't know.
so... ::blink:: I think I'm done with my rambling.
feedback would be nice, comments thanked, and constructive criticism adored and appreciated. flames will be used to make a bonfire out in my backyard. it's freakin' cold up here in New England! ::shiver::</html>