Tsubasa Chronicle Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubasa: Revolutions ❯ Candy From Strangers ( Chapter 5 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
"You seem troubled," a smooth voice interrupts my thoughts - though in all honesty I have no idea what I had been thinking about. Just staring out over the gardens, watching the leaves on the trees in the distance dance in the comfortable breeze.
"I suppose," I shrug. I don't even bother to look and see who it is. I don't care right now.
He says very little and I would describe his silence as he sits down next to me as inhuman, but I'm not sure if that works entirely.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he offers as though I were someone he asked this question to often.
"No. Not really," I shrug again and continue my staring. Typically, in a mood like this I would prefer to be alone, but his presence is oddly calming so I make no effort to move away from him or ask that he do the same.
"I can respect that," he says, and I hear the grass rustle beneath him as he leans back onto his elbows to look at the sky.
A slow, calm silence lies between us for quite some time before either of us say anything more. As we sit, I cannot deny my curiosity about him. He's dressed in solid black from head to toe, rich velvet, silk and aristocratic lace. He looks like bits and pieces of people that I've met along the way. Almost as though someone took all the best parts and gave them to him. Blue eyes a bit like mine, but darker, black hair a bit like Kamui's, but longer, and a strong frame a bit like Yasha's, but smaller.
"I suppose," I shrug. I don't even bother to look and see who it is. I don't care right now.
He says very little and I would describe his silence as he sits down next to me as inhuman, but I'm not sure if that works entirely.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he offers as though I were someone he asked this question to often.
"No. Not really," I shrug again and continue my staring. Typically, in a mood like this I would prefer to be alone, but his presence is oddly calming so I make no effort to move away from him or ask that he do the same.
"I can respect that," he says, and I hear the grass rustle beneath him as he leans back onto his elbows to look at the sky.
A slow, calm silence lies between us for quite some time before either of us say anything more. As we sit, I cannot deny my curiosity about him. He's dressed in solid black from head to toe, rich velvet, silk and aristocratic lace. He looks like bits and pieces of people that I've met along the way. Almost as though someone took all the best parts and gave them to him. Blue eyes a bit like mine, but darker, black hair a bit like Kamui's, but longer, and a strong frame a bit like Yasha's, but smaller.
Monagan?
I stare for a moment, and it is the only conclusion I can come to, but I decide to ask him about it later.
"Can I ask you something?" he says finally, and I can feel his sky-blue eyes staring right into me.
"Sure," I have apparently taken a habit to shrugging at him.
"Has your condition ever forced you to kill anyone?"
I can't say what I had been expecting him to ask me, but it certainly was not that, and I cannot help but show the look of surprise on my face. "My... condition?"
"Aie. You're a vampire.. are you not?"
"I.. well, yes. How did you know?” I see no point in lying about it as I have no doubt that he would know if I were. “Are there vampires in this world as well?"
"No," he says simply and his eyes remain as serious as a hurricane. "But that does not mean that I do not know what they are."
I pull my legs into my chest so I can rest my chin there before answering this ridiculous question of his. "No. I've never killed anyone because of this. I was turned into a vampire after losing my eye. When I was… created…” saying a phrase like this puts a foul taste in my mouth, “I drank the blood of a vampire to become one, mixed with the blood who is to sustain me."
"The tall guy?" he raises his eyes to mine, and seems strangely saddened about something.
"Yes," I say with a slight nod. "He is the only person I have ever drank from."
“Have you ever wanted to?”
“What?” I do not understand the question I am being asked.
“Drink from anyone else, I mean… just to see what it was like?”
“No. I don't even want to drink from him, but he makes me.” I explain. Why is he asking me all of this anyway? And why am I so quick to answer? I am stressed, sleep-deprived and hungrier than I have ever been lately, and here he comes, a complete stranger, asking me questions about something I don't even want to talk about.
All its doing is making me think about it more.
Think about how hungry I am and how I had to make myself leave the room because of the thought I had. As if everything else hadn't been bad enough.
“I really would rather not talk about this,” I say to him with a smile.
“Oh. I'm sorry,” he says. “It was rude of me to ask such things in the first place.”
I thought he would have left after that, but he remains at my side, staring at the night sky and I cannot help but wonder what brought him over to me in the first place. He must have had something he wanted to talk with me about.
“Has your condition forced you to ever kill anyone?” his first question pops back into my mind. Yet his reaction to my response had almost been classifiable as disappointed; as though he had hoped I would say yes.
“You're Monagan… aren't you?” I offer a new topic of conversation to him.
“Aie,” he nods. “And you are Fai. I was looking forward to meeting you. Your companions spoke very highly of you.”
“Not all of them I'm sure.”
He looks at me oddly and raises a single black eyebrow. “No. I can't recall a single ill thing spoken of you by any of them at all. Is that why you're out here? Are you fighting with one of them?”
“I always am I guess you might say. But that's not why I'm out here.”
“Can't sleep?”
I nod.
“I know how that goes,” he laughs quietly.
“You do?”
“I can't remember the last time I've slept. Though, I do recall liking it a great deal…” he explains. “And I must say that centuries without sleep can sometimes make immortality almost unbearable. I would honestly welcome any nightmare I could find now days.”
And I thought I had things rough….
“But now, she's keeping me from him, because she thinks I will lose. My own sister…” he sighs deeply, lowering his head to the grass to lay down. “She doesn't think I can win against him. She's even gone as far as locking me out of the dreamworld now. I used to be able to find people in my dreams… my sister, Ienyn, my parents… anyone I wanted. Even Sarûs if I tried hard enough. Now… I can't even sleep if I wanted to. What's your excuse?”
“For what?” I ask innocently.
“Not sleeping. It's four in the morning. Even vampires need their rest.” He says flatly.
I don't like being called that, even in jest, but I decide to let it slide for the moment. “I'd rather be tired than deal with my dreams right now.”
“You can have nightmares?” he sits up and looks at me with wide eyes; astonished.
That's right. People don't have nightmares here.
I look down at the grass, twirling a few of the long blades in my fingers and tell him, “I don't think most would classify them as nightmares, no. But it does frighten me a bit, yes.”
He looks at me, confused and raises a questioning eyebrow but says nothing, hoping that I'll explain myself.
“Its really quite foolish of me,” I laugh and toss in my usual smile.
“So… you're having good dreams you're uncomfortable with?” he says as a sort of way to clarify it in his own head.
“I suppose that is the simplest answer.”
“I can't say I've ever heard of that before,” he says through a soft laugh and resumes his relaxed position on the grass.
He reminds me of someone, though I can't quite say who. Maybe its just myself; surrounded by a world of people and yet completely alone.
We are silent for a while longer before I speak again. “How did you know about me?”
“I can smell his blood on you.”
“So you a dragon as well?”
“Yes. The Dragon of White Light,” he nods. “I personally find it a rather ridiculous title.”
“Why would that be?”
“The words `White' and `Light' have no power here anymore. And there is certainly no use for dragons.”
“I've been wondering,” I confess, my eye spotting one of the statues atop the palace wall in the distance, “what you mean by dragon?”
“You've never heard of dragons?”
“Of course I've heard of them. I just don't really think you fit the description of the dragon's I'm used to hearing about. You look pretty human to me.”
“Now, yes. As I said, there isn't much use for dragons anymore, so there isn't much sense in changing into one.”
I laugh. That makes much more sense to me now. “So how does one become a dragon?”
“The Powers of the old world granted them to those of us in the prophecies. Ienyn and I are not the only dragons of this world, though most of the others have died by now. This world will drive men bred for wars and battles crazy. They would rather die than have nothing to save, protect and fight for.”
“Would you?” I find myself asking him, though it is quite rude of me to do so.
He doesn't seem to mind though and says with a shrug, “Unfortunately, death is not an option for me. Not yet anyway. But that isn't to say I haven't tried. Prophecy says that I will live to see the destruction of Shadow or die by his hand.”
“Shadow?”
“Sarûs,” he smiles at me. “He is the Dragon of Black Shadows and the only person in this world that can kill me. At least, that's the way things seem to work.”
“That must be pretty rough then.”
“I suppose,” he shrugs. “But we all have our own struggles in life.”
I cannot help but shake my head and smirk. No kidding…
His face seems to brighten a bit and he looks at me and smiles, “I really should apologize for acting overly familiar. I really am not in the habit of forcing myself into others' lives, but I must admit that I am very excited over your arrival.”
“Did you… know we were coming?”
“No. I had no idea. But those feathers had to have come from somewhere…”
“Those feathers?”
“Aie. Surely you've figured out that Sarûs is in possession of a feather as well…”
I suppose it had crossed my mind, yes. But I wasn't going to just assume anything. Not here anyway. This world is weird.
“It makes the problem a bit worse actually. Which is why I am trying to find him. I've spent the last thousand years looking for a way to the other side - to where he is. I have to defeat him before we find a way to wake up Annabelle or who knows what will happen when everything my sister has deemed as “evil” comes colliding into this world again. Unfortunately, I've been unsuccessful in both areas.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I have to go there myself I suppose.”
“But you can't get there?”
“No matter what I do,” he laughs. “And after a thousand years, I've made some pretty drastic and creative attempts.”
I think I understand his first question to me a little bit more now. But like I've said, I'm not going to assume anything here.
“As a vampire, do you get stronger drinking blood?” he completely changes our conversation.
“I feel weaker if I haven't drank any I suppose. Sort of like if I haven't eaten in a while.”
I really hope he isn't going to ask me to turn him into a vampire or anything. I have no idea how to do that, and even if I did, I wouldn't.
“I know you said you hadn't done it before, but are you able to drink the blood of others, or do you have to drink from the tall, dark, brooding ninja man?”
“I have never sought the blood of others,” I shrug. I don't quite know how it works. And I don't remember what it is that Yuuko said about it. I was a little bit out of it when it all happened.
“Are… you hungry?”
This was not where I had thought the conversation was going. At all. And I have no idea what to say to him about it other than, “Excuse me?!”
“Are you hungry?” he shrugs. “I… have a small favour to ask. And if you are hungry, I would be glad to help you out. If you would help me of course.”
“What kind of favour?” I ask him with a narrowed eye. What in the world is he up to?
“I have the power to move through dreams. But my sister will not allow me to sleep,” he is still smiling at me. “You possess a great deal of magical power, which will allow me to easily enter your dream if you grant me permission to do so. If you drink from me before you sleep, and gain your strength, you should be able to keep us both in the dream world for quite some time.”
“What good would my dreams do you? I hardly think they would be of any interest to you.”
“As long as I can get into the dream world, it doesn't matter,” he shrugs.
“I suppose I just don't understand what good watching a person's dream would do you.”
He chuckles softly before answering me, his blue eyes staring straight at the stars above us, “You can learn more about a person by watching their dreams than you could ever hope to learn by simply talking to them. Their fears, their desires, all played before you like a moving picture of their inner thoughts.”
“Don't you think it's a little… intrusive?”
“Oh, it is very intrusive. I wouldn't dare deny it,” he nods his head. “But it is the only way I can come in contact with him… and the only link I can find to the other world.”
“You really want to find him, don't you?”
“It's the only thing that keeps me from turning to stone.”
I raise my eyebrow.
“Figuratively speaking,” he adds with a smirk. “So, will you help me?”
I don't have much of a reason to tell him no. Other than how I really don't know how much I want him watching my own dreams of course. So I shrug my shoulders slightly before giving him a quick nod.
His handsome face brightens into a genuine smile and he thanks me before standing to his feet. “Come with me,” he says and holds out his right hand to me.
I hesitate a moment before I take it.
“It will be alright,” he says with a small smile, and then pulls me to my feet.
He is slender, sleek and elegant, and walks with the graceful poise of one who was brought up with excellent manners. Though, he isn't quite as tall as I thought he would have been, now that I am standing right beside him to get a good look;
the top of his head comes just to my eyes.
We walk through the wide, elegant hallways of the palace and up winding, grand stair cases that lead to a floor I have never been to.
“This isn't something I really had planned,” he shakes his head and laughs. His hands rest on the large golden handles of a double, grey wooden door inlayed with elegant floral carvings as he speaks. “So I hope you don't mind that we come up here. It is the only place I can think of where no one will disturb us.”
The room is enormous and full of elegant and ornate knickknacks and things I have never seen before in my life. A thousand years worth of collectables I suppose.
“This is my room. Please, make yourself comfortable,” he says and waits for me to enter, then closes the door behind us, locking it with the turn of a golden knob.
My eyes wander for a moment, spying statues of dragons, old tapestries of castles and long haired maidens, a rack of silver-bladed swords, and shelves upon shelves of old worn out books before I find Monagan in the middle of the room standing near the extraordinarily large bed in the centre of the room that is full of more pillows than a dozen people would sleep on. He removes his long, velvet tailcoat and tosses it on the foot of the bed. It lands neatly folded as though he had intended it to do so, but I've been here long enough to know that he didn't.
“I used to sit in the front row of orchestra concerts and throw things at them to try and mess them up,” he laughs, his eyes still focused on the tailcoat he has just removed. “But it got boring after a year or so. Because they never would…”
“You would try to sabotage them?” I laugh as well. In all honesty, that sounds a lot like something that I would do.
“Just to see if it could be done,” he nodded, and I see him slip a small gold handled dagger from his pocket.
An awkward silence falls between us now.
His fingers fumble about the lace of his throat before his long neck is revealed and he holds the dagger beneath his own chin and makes one clean cut down the left side of his neck.
“You should be able to drink as much as you like,” he looks at me and continues to unbutton the rest of his laced shirt.
His skin is the same colour as Kurogane's.
I hesitate. I am hungry. But the best I can compare this to is when you crave a slice of chocolate pie and someone hands you a cherry pie instead. It isn't that I can't eat it. It just… that I don't really want to.
It is quite obvious that I am uncomfortable I'm sure, and he offers a sympathetic smile to me before he walks over. Blood runs down his neck and the front of his chest, but he acts as though he does not even notice.
“If you are afraid, it is ok,” he says and reaches for one of my hands.
“I'm not afraid.”
He laughs again. His laugh is actually quite pleasant. “It is the middle of the night and you are being asked to suck on the neck of a complete stranger in the middle of his poorly lit and rather oddly decorated bedroom while he stands before you only half dressed. I'd be afraid….”
I laugh as well. “I suppose if you put it like that…”
“Later, we can cuddle,” he jokes.
I close my eyes a moment, the scent of fresh blood is as pleasant to me as fresh bread cooling on the counter. I can tell the difference in the scent. He is not Kurogane. He is not the chocolate pie I crave. But I'm hungry enough right now that cherry pie does not sound too bad either.
I always drink from Kurogane's wrist, but he couldn't have known that. And now that he has already cut himself, it isn't like I can say anything about it.
The cut itself is longer, deeper, and the blood that spills from a person's neck is slightly warmer than that which flows from the wrist. He tastes entirely different than Kurogane. Actually, this entire scene is different from anything I have ever done with Kurogane. On many levels I suppose.
I am careful not to hurt him. That would be very rude of me.
For a moment, we stay at a polite distance from one another, but it only seems to make things more awkward. He is the first to move closer, tilting his head away from mine and looking to the ceiling. I too move closer, standing directly before him and place my hand on the back of his neck to make him more comfortable.
I suppose if I am really going to do this, I may as well do it correctly.
The cut was deep enough that it takes a while for the bleeding to stop. But I am still hungry. Even so, I pull away.
“You can keep going,” he tells me with a slight nod, and keeps his head tilted back to elongate his already long, slender neck.
He really does not seem to be troubled by this in the least, which is more than I can say for myself. But I am hungry. And aggravated. And if you must know, I am quite sexually frustrated as well. Not that it has anything to do with this right now, but it is on my mind none the less.
“Let me know if I hurt you,” I tell him, and move in once again.
The blood from his wound is not flowing freely like before, so I must work to get it out now. I am weary not to be too forceful, but am aware of the breath that has caught in his throat as I suck harder at the soft flesh of his neck.
He takes a slight step backwards, which startles me. But what startles me even more is that when I pull away he grabs my arm and pulls me along with him.
“I will get dizzy soon,” he says softly, almost breathless. “We should move.”
A smart idea I suppose. Except the only place to sit in here, despite the elegant eccentricities of the room, is the large bed in the center.
I don't know if I like where this is going.
Or maybe I don't like that I do.
I'm not entirely sure which just yet. But apparently neither one, whichever it really is, is enough to get me to protest.
I am hungry after all.
The bed is soft, with sheets of deep red silk that slide smoothly beneath the weight of my knees. He sits, knees bent and legs dangling over the edge and his hands folded neatly in his lap. I take my place next to him, but do nothing for the moment.
I am still hungry, but his neck is hardly bleeding at all, and the place where I had been feeding from is raw and red and beginning to bruise. “Are you alright?” I ask him.
“I am fine,” he says with a weak smile, but his eyes are fixed on his knees.
“I can stop if this makes you uncomfortable.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I know you are not going to hurt me.”
That really wasn't what I had been talking about.
He laughs quickly and shrugs his shoulders, “I am sorry. I heal very fast, so it probably isn't making it easy for you.” And before I can say anything more, he removes the dagger once more and makes another cut along his neck, this time on the other side.
The opposite side of where I am sitting. Of course.
I did not notice the first time that he doesn't even wince as he digs the knife into his skin.
Kurogane never does either.
Kurogane.
I wonder if he is still sleeping in the chair at the foot of my bed; my currently very vacant bed that he will be extraordinarily angry to see if he is to wake up any time soon.
Monagan tilts his head the opposite direction, offering the fresh wound to me freely. Another slice of pie.
I only drink from him until the bleeding subsides. It is only a few short minutes until this happens, but during the time I had been oblivious to the fact that I had practically crawled into his lap. I've had many dreams that have started like this. But none of them involved the person I am currently with. Reality is always undeniably bittersweet I suppose. Regardless, I cannot being myself to continue.
My only thought is suddenly focused on one thing. What would Kurogane say if he saw this? What would he think?
For a great length of time I had been trying to convince myself that I didn't care what Kurogane thought. But I know exactly what a pang of guilt in your stomach feels like, and that is exactly what I feel right now.
Why?
I don't even know myself, to be honest.
“I'm sorry,” I apologize quickly and adjust myself to a much more polite and, well, much less lustful vampire sort of manner.
“For what?” he looks at me with surprisingly serious eyes.
“I...” ok, so I have no idea what to say to him right now. “I'm finished.”
He looks at me for a moment, as if he is trying to decide if he believes me or not. But he doesn't say anything for quite some time.
“Ok then,” he nods and gives me a very polite smile, “Shall we begin?”