Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Angel ❯ It seems so long ago... ( Chapter 1 )

“Bessy…c'mon, wake up Bess….Bessy…Bastia…BASTIA DENOCTIS!”

 

He jerked up with a start, looking wildly around the room with unseeing eyes of frightened amber, searching for any trace of what now seemed to be merely a wild nightmare.

 

The bright golden gleam began to return to the darkened orbs as they lit upon the familiar face peering down at him from the upper bunk of their bed. Cerulean blue, turned midnight by the concern within, gazed at him from a face that could have been his, had it not been for the dirty blonde hair and those very blue eyes looking at him so worriedly.

 

He tried to smile reassuringly at his mirror image, but the way those eyes narrowed reminded him of the dream, despite the way the concern behind this gesture contradicted the anger of the other. A shudder passed through him, just the slightest of trembles; none but perhaps he whose face hovered inches from his and one other would have noticed this ever so slight display of emotion. Bastia was not a very outgoing person; only the ones that he lived and grew up with could ever read those slight twitches and tics that were the only indications of his feelings.

 

“Bessy…what happened?” There was no soft whispers assuring him that everything was alright, telling him that it had only been a dream; no one held him tight to ease his pain and gently coax the nightmare out of him.

 

And that was a good thing, for Bastia would have, no doubt, freaked out if he found himself encased in another's arms with a voice whispering in his ears; not only because it would draw him back into that terrifying dream world, but also because he would be exceedingly uncomfortable being near any other person.

 

He drew in a shaky breath and exhaled heavily. “It was…a nightmare. Nothing more,” he whispered quietly, taking over the job of comforting a shaken soul for himself. “An overly frightening nightmare, yes, but just a dream,” he repeated, drawing up his own still darkened eyes up to meet his brother's.

 

Twilight blue scanned the glowing amber, filled with anxiety at first but slowly subsiding as he saw his twin's calm return to him. Typical Bastia, only letting him in for about a second before the oyster slammed his shell shut once more. Except, this time his younger brother was obviously very shaken; his almost constantly quiet companion had turned the reflection of his face away, so that he could not read into his thoughts through his eyes as they usually did for communication.

 

He was tempted to turn his brother's face toward him, but Bastia's flinch as he raised his hand caused him to drop it abruptly and crease his brow while wondering whether he should call their mother.

He was about to get up when he was interrupted by Bastia. “Wait,” the younger forced out of his dry throat. “Don't…I'm fine. I just want to sleep…” He gazed imploringly at his brother Indomien, an utterly defeated and tired look on his face.

 

Indomien was not used to seeing such expressions on his stoic twin's face, but he wasn't about to deliberately go against whatever it was his brother wanted most in the world. At the moment, it appeared that all Bastia wanted was to go to sleep, and so he nodded slightly before returning to his own bed. It wasn't long before he heard the not-quite-steady, nearly silent rasp of his breath slow into the peaceful rhythm of sleep.

 

He listened for a moment longer, musing about what could disturb Bastia so, before he too drifted off into the peaceful realm of sleep.

 

The unspoken words hung in the silence; they were always present in Indomien's mind when he thought of his brother. Why the younger twin had randomly uttered the seemingly simple phrase, he did not know, but it had haunted him from that moment so long ago when he had first heard them from Bastia's mouth; for three years, from that fateful moment when they were mere ten years of age, he had contemplated, dissected, done his best to find the hidden meaning, but to no avail…

Smile at the Moon, Cry for the Stars…and never let the Sun See.

 

 

 

 

 

Bastia always rose at the crack of dawn, despite the sleep that was still weighing down his eyelids. He dragged his resisting form out of a soft white haven of down and cotton, sliding into a pair of slippers before padding softly out onto a balcony in only his pajamas.

 

A soft sigh slid from his mouth as he draped himself over the balcony rail, gazing out onto the rolling hills and bouncy forests that stretched out in every direction. It was at times like these, when loneliness gnawed at him, that he wished he had been born in a different form. Something, anything other than what he was; a form that he would not have to constantly hide for fear of being forced into a scene that would probably end up

remarkably similar to the dream he had had that night.

 

It had been nearly a year since that little nightmare from when he was just starting to understand his position in life, and yet the memory was still burned into his mind as though the actual event had occurred only a moment ago.

 

Out of it all, even with the by no means calming figure who had stood at the forefront of the nightmare, it was the setting that had frightened him most. As though someone had simply poured an enormous pail of grisly dark red paint, the exact color of blood, into a large spacious chamber. Nearly the entire thing had the same tint, from the soft, plush carpet underfoot that felt more like heavenly soft grass to the textured ceiling from which it would be easy to imagine drops of the life's liquid sliding down. The only changes were various metal implements, and the spatterings of gold and black in intricate designs upon it all. The manacles in which the dream figure had hung, feet of the none to short figure dangling above the ground, were of blackened steel, accentuated with the shining yellow of the precious metal. All around the room were various comfortable seating arrangements, including loveseats and crimson futons, with the same ebony and gold cushions and pillows accentuating their darkness. And of course, there were a couple of pure ebony tables whose normally smooth surfaces were sheathed in scarlet silk, obviously meant to hide the various items which raised the fabric in little tents. All in all, it was an impressive sight, and definitely not a place that a sane person would like to be in, especially not in the chains.

 

There had been, of course, the various incubi and normal demons standing in to watch. All had been liveried in the same colors as the contents of the chamber itself, blending in with the scenery save for their pale faces and vibrantly colored hair. None of them had been small in stature; each had at least three inches on their victim even as he hung above the ground. The one constant between them, for even their clothing had different patterns if not different colors, was their red eyes. Each had brilliant, unforgivingly cruel and bright lamps that seemed to pierce through walls. Despite the slim forms, Bastia still bore the impression they were incredibly strong, especially by the tensed muscles that made up their captives form; even if his face did not show it, it was apparent he was in considerable physical pain.

 

Then there was “the master” himself, a man who Bastia could not even begin to describe, even as he sought to clear up the finer details of his mind in these wee hours of the morning. There was an aura to him, an indescribable feel that sent shivers up the dream visitor's spine and caused his throat to dry out for no particular reason besides the sheer creepiness of the man. Powerful, controlling, sly, persuasive…so many impressions rolled off of him, confusing Bastia to no end so that he was forced to give up coming up with a description. He was forced to content himself with merely saying that the man gave him a bad feeling, and a complicated one. Those bloody eyes, infinitely more powerful than any of the demons, as well as the fangs only belonging to a vampire that showed in those condescendingly amused smiles frightened him beyond belief.

 

Bastia shuddered once more, quickly tiring of flipping through what he knew and did not know of what happened in the dream. Or so he told himself, in order to avoid the most sensitive topic of the ordeal- the victim of it all. All he had were the brief, fleeting impulses of him: a calm, stoic mask, an undeniable hatred for the master, an unrequited love for one who he'd do anything for, and an otherwise unreadable personality. He also couldn't help but notice…the twitching upper right lip, something that Bastia himself did when he was pissed, the way a large vein was clearly visible in the slender neck, another sign of when Bastia was ready to kill someone… And of course, there was the face that was slightly paler, slightly less fleshy, only ever so slightly different; the brilliant golden eyes, no different from his own bright lamps; the long braid of ebony streaked with gold that matched is own rather randomly colored shoulder-length mop…and the twin scars trailing down the shoulder blades…the similarities were undeniable.

 

Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, he muttered in his head, the utter ridiculous-ness of the phrase in his mind calming him slightly. He opened his eyes and drank in the pale pinks and fluttering orange of the rising sun, which eventually brought the unnatural glow in his eyes to one more common to the hybrid.

 

I wonder…what would it like to be normal? he asked the ball of fire in the sky, his voice quiet so as to not wake his brother. What would it be like to not fear of someone ever finding out what you are, to never have to worry about spreading your wings and just flying off somewhere...anywhere…as long as you're free.

Smile at the moon, cry for the stars, and never let the sun see.

 

 

 

Indomien settled himself more comfortably back, sinking even further into the already deep cushions. This was a rare opportunity, a once-in-at-least-a-long-time chance. It was not every day that he could kick back and relax, not every day that he could ignore the world for at least a moment and enjoy himself without the concerns of everyday life. Bastia, he knew, was out doing whatever it was that Bastia did when he felt like listening to their parents. They were always constantly hounding the younger brother, commanding him to go outside at least once a day, though they would keep going if they received no reactions the first time. When he grew tired of being bothered, Bastia would usually mutter curses under his breath, disappear for about and hour, and turn up with the same agitated expression he wore when he left.

 

Or at least, that was what their parents thought. Indomien knew that Bastia would go hide out on the roof, basking in the sunlight as though for all the world cared he was a cat. Several chance encounters and various times he had found Bastia curled up with a peaceful face as his lidded eyes remained still in a way they never did at night. He would smile brilliantly, bite back the temptation to stroke the soft mop of yellow flecked ebony, and retreat without ever informing their parents of what exactly it was that Bastia did. Still, whenever the younger returned from the roof, that carefree expression would always be replaced by annoyance as he passed silently through the house for the next hour or so.

 

Every once in a while though, Bastia would listen to them. He would disappear for a quite a bit longer than the hour and could never be found anywhere in the immediate vicinity; Indomien reasoned that this must mean that there was a good reason for the constant bothering they did, if it meant that Bastia would actually do whatever it was once every couple of weeks or so.

 

Either way, Bastia was gone at the moment. Their father was out, as he often seemed to be, and their mother had left with him as she sometimes did. His brother was usually there with him during the long period of times in which one or both parent was gone, but as mentioned, he wasn't there now. The result of this was that Indomien was left nearly all alone to savor his moment of bliss. Not that he minded of course; he liked it best when his only companion was the ghostly memory of his cat. Two years since her death, and he still would occasionally look up at the moon and whisper his regrets.

 

For now, he closed his eyes for a moment as he slowly opened the new book for the first time. It was rare that their parents brought back such a treasure; it was suspicious for them to be seen in one town for any length of time. They usually didn't bother with such petty things as the intellectual entertainment of the brothers; of school books there were plenty, but the same could not be said about pleasure reading.

 

It wasn't very long into the book before a slender, already arched golden eyebrow rose even further. Apparently, his parents had been rather careless when they had picked out this book; it was a bit off from their usual standards.

 

By the end of the none-too-lengthy text, there was a small flame of rage smoldering in darkened eyes. How dare they…assuming to know what it was like. Assuming that a life like this could only be pure joy and happiness. Assuming that this…curse was something that should be treasured, and that the one who had it should be thankful daily.

 

Indomien did not get upset very often. His nature was one of the more happy-go-lucky types; he was almost always seen with at least a soft curl to his pale lips if not a full out grin. Yet now, his angelic features were drawn and his eyes were hard. It was a rare occurrence, truly, and Bastia would have marked the occasion if he had been there to see.

 

Bastia…Indomien couldn't help but smirk evilly at the though of what his brother would do if he read the book. Bastia was far more sensitive to this kind of thing- he would already be looking up the author's address by now to go and give him a little “education”, had he been in Indomien's position. He could just see that look in brilliant yellow eyes…

 

There are some lines that one never crosses. They are drawn in non-photo blue pencil; clearly there yet invisible when looked at through another's eyes. They change as the times do, but they are always there when one has looked properly. And at the moment, these lines were screaming about the transgression which had been made.

 

They don't know anything, so you can't really blame them. They just think that it would be cool to be special…

 

They were wrong.

 

There are many different non-photo blue pencil lines in the world, each with their own set of images that they hold in place. Chances are that if one of the blue pencil lines is crossed, at least one other has been crossed on a different page. The same went here; in order to cross the particular set that Indomien was thinking about, another page had been just about murdered. Except, they weren't the only ones who had crossed those lines…no, Indomien and Bastia defied that page with there existence far more than a wayward author ever could.

 

There have always been rumors of werewolves that have been turned, at the same time as being garou, into vampires as well. There were also rumors that the majority of shifters upon whom the vampire curse has been placed suffered painful deaths soon after the bite took place. Surely that alone was a sign that hybrids were just not meant to be.

 

Demons and garou had happened before, it was not altogether impossible; in fact, it was far more likely to find such a cross than it was to find a full grown mage. They were accepted by nature, and so were accepted by the population as well. They were, all in all, just shapeshifters with a few uncanny abilities like telepathy or telekinesis maybe; nothing overly powerful. And thus, they were allowed existence.

 

Half mages blended with just about every other species on the planet. And of course, there were quarter mages, dhampirs who had one vampire parent, cambions that had either a succubus or an incubus as a parent, half demons with normal demonic parents…humans could merge with just about any species on the planet. It would not be overly long before “normal” humans dropped off the face of the earth and every soul had at least some supernatural blood within them.

 

But there was no such thing as a demon and a vampire. Or more specifically, an incubus and vampire mix; it just could not be. Two of the most powerful creatures on the planet combined into one…it was a frightening possibility, one that could only ever be contemplated in a story.

 

Vampire-incubus hybrids should not exist.

 

Bastia DeNoctis should not exist.

 

Indomien Nox should not exist.

 

The framed marriage contract, the one hanging on the parlor wall; well, it could exist, one might say.

 

The two birth certificates, however- the ones hidden away in a drawer the way that Bastia and Indomien were hidden in the mountains- should not exist.

 

The unspoken words in a loosely bound family should not exist.

 

And to Bastia DeNoctis, if not Indomien Nox or the other two members, the family itself should not exist either.

 

Smile at the moon, cry for the stars, and never let the sun see.

 

 

Indomien set the book down for a moment, looking at the cover thoughtfully. Then he decided it would be worth the trouble to show it to his thirteen year old brother.

 

He rose, leaving the sinfully comfortable armchair and then walked away.

 

As soon as his retreating back had left the room, the book burst into flame. There were several odd things about this fire; one, it burned only the book and not the table it rested on. It gave off no heat that one could feel; in fact, it was rather cold. And perhaps most interesting of all, the flames were blue. Not a normal blue either; it was an eerily bright, shifting color that varied from dark to light in a heartbeat.

 

It was interesting, the way that Indomien's glowing eyes slid through the exact same colors.

 

Smile at the moon, cry for the stars, and never let the sun see.