Post by Jair on Oct 31, 2009 16:42:20 GMT -8
St. Moritz, Switzerland
October 26th, 2009
eight:pm
October 26th, 2009
eight:pm
The sound of rushing water touched his hearing, triggering something in his subconscious to rise. Circadian rhythm held his frame down, telling him that it was far too early to be awake, too soon from the time of sundown to be roused. Nevertheless, his mate's scent nudged at his nostrils, teased at him until, with a deep groan, the man unfurled from his position.
Jair de laFronde had never been an early riser in human life, but as of recently (the past six months), he found himself with a new motivation for, awkwardly enough... living. Vampire life had fascinated him, much as the legends of Greek deities had in his university studies. However, simple interest was not the just reason for such excitement to wake in the dawn.
One would have to hand it to the fledgling's sire and partner-bound to be: Nephriel de laFronde.
Joints popped and muscles extended to become taut as the male spread into a long, feline stretch. The messed sheets, tangled and wrinkled in their place about his ankles, were kicked off the edge of the mattress with his toes which curled and released with the pleasure of the first rising movement. The bed made not a noise as the slight, strong curve of his back arched above the bed, each vertebrae protruding from the still lightly-bronzed skin. Puffy eyelids slowly began to lift beneath the weight that had shifted over them in sleep. And finally, thick eyelashes batting against the shining light above his form, Jair sat upright and slid both legs out of bed to pat each bare foot to the ivory carpet.
The suite was grand - one might call it exquisite or even incomparable. Each detail - door frames, tiled floorings, mirrors, cabinets, staircases - was done so intricately, so polished...
But that wasn't even the worst part of this whole airing.
The one thing about this vacation that made Jair's gut twist painfully in guilt was the price Nephriel had paid for one room, for one consecutive business week.
Six thousand and eighty five Swiss francs.
And that number went up, up and up with each bottle they touched, each piece of cheese they scarfed, or each sheet their dirtied. The price of such surroundings were hideous, in Jair's honest opinion.
He didn't so much as flinch, however, as he twisted open a bottle of vampire delicacy in his hands. He did wince as a droplet of that liquid came flying out of its too-filled container and floated, as if in slow motion, down to the perfect, ivory - seemingly untouched (however, no longer) carpet.
"... Fuck," he hissed out, just at a fraction of a whisper as he slammed down his bottle, and without a seconds thought the man hurried back the way he'd come. Toward the bedroom, and its connecting bathroom.
"Nephriel!" he called through the barrier, lifting a closed fist to knock at its wooden exterior. Before a knuckle even so much as tapped to the grained surface, the man's eyes fell to the ground...
Where cold water was flowing from between tiled bathing room floor and doorway.
A white-knuckled hand grasped at the golden knob attached to the door, and first the man attempted a turn - no such luck, of course. A jiggle of its appendage, and still nothing. Finally, the Greek backed up a couple of steps until the backs of his calves touched the bed's edge. A breath inward, and he started forward in a run, only stopping when his shoulder heavily caused collision with the hard, wooden surface and the door fell completely inward on the bathroom. Bare soles carefully stepped over the splintered pieces and platform, then onto flooded tile. The iced water brought a sort of numbness to his limbs, and a shudder racked his form from the base of his heels and upward, into the nape of his neck. But he wouldn't let a simple feeling of cold overtake him.
In moments he was by the side of the tub, and he didn't simply tug the curtain aside; he yanked the entire square of fabric off of its rack with a clatter, only to find that there was no Nephriel in the over-flowing tub. There wasn't a singlblondd hair in the liquid. Not even a body.
The initial reaction was a stare - wide, dark, biting cold. An undead, albeit still very alive heart sped its pulses and sporadic beats, all the while the cavity around the organ constricting to give the sensation of suffocation and crushing.
That. That moment in time is when Jair de laFronde absolutely knew that something had gone terribly wrong. His dancing king, his theos, was gone.
And the only traces the ivory-eyed man right behind him were droplets and puddles of bath water toward the open window: the barrier between Jair and the winter air of St. Moritz, Switzerland.Jair------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------NephrielJust two hours before, Nephriel de laFronde had been padding bare foot around the same bathroom right in front of which Jair stood now. He had awoken in a cheerful mood and earlier than his boyfriend; as usual. This would give him more time to tidy up the aftermath of their rampant behaviour from the night before. He had taken a quick look around at the task at hand; piles of discarded clothes, half-empty bottles of expensive Blanc de Noir champagne, as well as curls of pastel-coloured confetti to commemorate the beginning of what would be their getaway in St. Moritz scattered the lush shag of the ivory carpeting. With the click of his tongue, he had set to work and within the hour, the suite was tidier than when they had first set foot in it. Proud as ever of his accomplishment, the prudent blond had then stepped into the lavish bathroom and then…
Nothing.
The memory was so vivid and yet it seemed like it had happened months, maybe even years ago.
The blank, milky eyes opened to darkness and silence.
The darkness that he was always so accustomed to; even as a mortal, the priestesses had kept him locked in his luxurious chamber; a small room that had only one window, which would provide a single steady stream of sunlight onto the marble floors. But the same darkness that was once an ally had a different feel about it.
Something more… ominous.
Treacherous traitor…
Not even his keen vision could focus on shapes in the blackness of his surroundings.
What was perhaps more frightening than the blindness was the silence. How still everything around him must’ve been kept. Why? Someone had put in a lot of effort to make him paranoid…
As the male reached out, there was nothing around him; nothing within reach. No matter how far he outstretched his arm… nothing.
It made him feel vulnerable. It made him feel something he hadn’t felt in over 2000 years. It made him feel human.
Is this… a vampire’s death?
No… it couldn’t be. His feet were bound and as if his senses had immediately clued into this new revelation, the coldness of the steel cuffs around his ankles began to numb the surface of his ivory flesh.
Fuck… I’m naked, aren’t I?
He started to piece together things he knew; whoever brought him into this soundproof void what brought him so far that he couldn’t even speak to his childe through telepathy. That or the walls were packed with a substance that could block thoughts from leaving and entering the mind. Impossible? Maybe. Either way, Nephriel was stuck.
And that’s when it hit him…
Whoever had brought him here knew.Nephriel------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------JairA phone. He had to find a phone. His had been lost in a rampage of drinking and sex, and apparently someone had cleaned up the remains of their rampant behaviour before his awakening.
The telephone was an old fashioned Ericsson, shaped of gold and heavy white plastic to form something decorative and elegant. Trembling fingers uncurled stiffly, opening to make room for grasping of the slim cylinder shape of the receiver. A piece of plastic and gold design brushed the curved rim of his ear, and each time Jair's finger fell to hover over the numbered axle, a gentle click exerted from the machine.
Click... click... click... RING!
He stood there for only a few seconds, waiting for an answer, even a message to say that the cell phone had become disconnected or was unavailable. Anything would have been better than what he heard next.
You better go down when you get with me
You better realize I am what you need
You better get here before I count to three
Jair's naturally pouted lips moved almost soundlessly, but for a hushed singsong voice that pushed out in breaths off his tongue. He was finishing the last line of the verse, ignorant to the meaning spelled out to him by his own memory.
"You better do right, I'll fuck you..." Between the final syllables came a pause, painted thickly along the atmosphere with comprehension and an unquenchable fear.
"... up."
Dark, alert eyes flicked toward the couch from which the sound originated, which came muffled and buzzing all at once. As soon as the single syllable broke off into silence, his hand was bburiedbetwixt the crack of the couch and its cushion, fingers fumbling desperately for the small device. Finally, sensing through vibrations and shifted space in the seat, he grasped the small cell phone - a white Android - and all he could do upon its finding was stare. Wide-eyed, stricken, and certainly certain.
Nephriel de laFronde was not simply gone.
He had gone without his cell phone (something he never left home without) and his black fur jacket, hung over the couch's back. Both would be needed out in St. Moritz - a city they'd never been before. A city that was cold. A city that Nephriel would easily be lost in.
That meant one of two obvious things:
A) He was still drunk, or
B) Someone or something had unexpectedly happened upon him.
Considering the couple had consumed every last potable drop of lliqueur the first wasn't a possible option.
Within moments of his conclusion, Jair grabbed his lover's jacket and cell phone and was through the door, fully dressed and with untied shoes on his feet. The door slammed behind his blurred form in a movement of fury and will to seek. The blood connection between him and his sire widened to his sensitivities. The result? A lack of perception.
But, in every missing link was an answer.
And according the lack of perception therein...
Nephriel did not exist.
Kardia...Jair------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------NephrielThere weren’t a great number of things that Nephriel feared. Amongst them were his Elders (the beings capable of smiting him if they so pleased), losing Jair (this was called for, seeing as the man was his lover, childe and best friend) and…
Emptiness.
Nothingness.
Non-existence.
His surroundings seemed to have ceased to exist. Such a thought caused a swell of bile to grow at the back of his throat.
What the fuck kind of place is this?
His paranoia began to grow and the ever-tightening knot of fear at the pit of his stomach sent a chilling shudder crawling up the sections of his spinal cord as questions of why’s and what if’s swam in his otherwise empty mind. And yet despite his slowly corroding sanity, it was his impatience that had begun to irate him the most.
As if triggered by that last thought; as if his binds sensed his anxiety, they tightened around his ankles.
Those better not be someone’s grimy hands…
A few seconds passed before a metallic chink sounded out through the room, followed by a stream of the blonde’s colourful language in two different tongues and the echoes of his vulgarity.
Clink!~
“FUCK. Shit. Ow… kariolis. Skila… FUUUCK!”
…Shit-it…kariolis-lis-lis…FUUUUUCKKK-K-K!...
The culprit of such a reaction wasn’t just his waning senses; with the click of his cuffs seemed to have summoned about a dozen teeth along the inner surface of the (what he assumed to be) metal clutches. The jagged spikes had broken through the skin of Nephriel’s ankles, like that of a priest’s cilice; sinking in deeper into the immortal flesh if its muscle dared to make even the slightest of twitches. The teeth tore at the flesh and bone until their very tips just nearly grazed over the man’s tarsus; every new rip at the taut muscles sending forth a wave of crimson from the many severed veins and arteries.
A grunt was issued from the blonde male and he chuckled wryly at his own misfortune.
Okay. Definitely not hands then…
As if that episode wasn’t bad enough, the faint smell of burning flesh and the unquestionable, stinging sensation of what could only be Holy Water began to claw at the exposed, tattered flaps of mangled sinew.
“Aw, FUCK me.”
And if that wasn’t bad enough, this special brand of Holy Water came with a special sort of attribute. As the stinging began to simmer down to a dull ache, it trailed upwards along every limb and appendage, bringing with it a bone-deep numbing feeling. And by the time this reaction had reached his face, Nephriel’s system was well on its way into unconsciousness and nowhere near composed.
I wonder if that crazy ex-husband is behind this…
Heavy eyelids drooped down to cover the entirety of his ivory optics, save for two thin slits from which he could vaguely see a blur of white light.
A door..?Nephriel------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------JairIf there was one thing that Jair was not used to, it was cold climate. Ice and snow were two things that Greece and California definitely did not have, and so neither his flesh or his feet were quite as gracefully accustomed to the cold as Nephriel.
And gracless... how? The first running stride onto pavement out of the hotel's doors was a slip and a slide that led him, stumblingly so, down the steps. Every inch of descending motion was made with a leveling grasp on the frozen metal railing beside himself. This was how Jair's curiosity of The Christmas Story was cured: dried skin was torn off of the icy cylinder with a tear of flesh, his palm suddenly tender and bloodied with opened cracks and onset of what looked to be the beginnings of frostbite.
The flesh that he used for touch was so suddenly numb, a sensation that prickled like needles in the deep surfaces of his dermis. And still, despite his clumsiness and slight handicap, he continued toward the busy streets of St. Moritz.
The noises of passing cars (beeps, honks, yells from passengers and drivers) were blurred, just as were the lights of the city. Lamp posts seemed like faraway fireflies, beautifully fluorescent, and each foreign profanity that he heard came to pass his ears as echoed whispers, hushed and sound. The only thing that wasn't white noise to Jair's mind was the big, blank hole where his perception of Nephriel should be.
Nothing. Not a thing.
"Theos mou... kardia, pou blepe be eseis?"
Where are you?
Without realisation to his surroundings or the dangerous threat that the fifty mile-per-hour speeds posed on him, Jair continued to take steps forward. With a few inches descent from a tall curb over a sewage drain, his black boots crushed over dirty slush and snow that crunched compactly beneath the rubber soles. Two more full swings of his knees and small swivels of his ankles, and he stepped out onto slick, invisible black ice.
The soles of such footwear weren't made for cool climate - they were made for fashion and to please the eye of an admiring observer. And so, when rubber-soled heel met frozen tar, gone unnoticed, Jair took a skid out into the centre of the dashed and dotted lane.
Directly into the path of oncoming traffic.
In one single fraction of a second, that dark head craned to shift a black gaze to his direct left; it was then that his senses returned with an almost decent capability for hearing and seeing, even touch. And how could he have known the latter? Well, he knew when a pain struck his boned frame.
Pupils widened as their sensitivity to light became stimulated, for a bright, large and yellow blur of light was quickly coming onward.
The cab's weight and speed at which it even slowed proved to be damaging when a frame-shaking snap sent Jair's hip out of place, and with lack of connecting bone came his fall. The initial collision had been a fender to side - and now, it was rubber tire tracks to shoulder. Snap, crackle and pop! as the axle rolled onto the velvet and fur-covered curve, rocking slowly back down only to serve as insult to his injury.
But only a wince through two sets of connected ivories was exhaled. Just one solitary wince, before the fledgling swung a bent knee forward; that motion was cause for the dislodged hinge to be popped back into its socket.
"SHIT," he cursed out into brisk air, his hot breath forming a cloud of fog into the single digit degrees.
So his hip was returned to its place; and his shoulder? His shoulder would have to live.
"Why the fuck can't you sodding cab drivers pay the FUCK attention, you unfocused bint!" continued his stream of rash words.
Of course they were rash.
Every second that he wasn't moving was a second wasted.
And every second wasted was a second away from his Nephriel.
His Nephriel, who was perhaps in danger.Jair------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------NephrielA few miles (about eight or so) south of the Badrutts Palace Hotel where the couple had been staying lay part of the glorious Alps. Tall, proud and boasting their beauty, the mountains stood lined up in a row, towering over the Upper Engadin valley; Piz Palü, Bellavista, Crast' Agüzza, Piz Bernina and Piz Morteratsch. The second from the west (when viewed from the highest suite in the Badrutts) was Piz Bernina, the tallest peak of the Eastern Alps; over four thousand metres above ground level and painted with a thick coat of freshly fallen snow.
And approximately four thousand metres from the peak of Piz Bernina and a few miles across the Upper Engadin, slept a small lake under the Swiss atmosphere; Lake St. Moritz. With the waters having been crystallized as the temperatures dropped well below 0˚c, the solid surface created distorted reflections of the waning moon and the sprinkle of stars that surrounded it. And far, far below that thick layer of ice, deep within the heart of Lake St. Moritz was what looked to be Godzilla’s plexi-glass cereal bowl… turned upside-down. And inside the clear dome was something that could’ve been the lovechild of H. G. Wells and Plato’s claims of Atlantis.
Though submerged well below sea level, the dome seemed to harness the capabilities to support land dwelling mammals. Small square buildings dotted the bed of the lake, perfectly dry in what was a giant bubble of air. The only movement in this prison-like environment was the three or four labcoat-wearing eggheads that shuffled in and out of the boxy buildings. One of the lab technicians pushed along a wheeled cart; atop it was a stretcher. And strapped to it was the prone form an unconscious blond male.
His dream wasn’t one that was particularly sad, or happy though the feel of comfort definitely lay within the colourful scenery that played in his head. A vision of his mortal wishes at Delphi; when he would sit on the spot inside the door to his chambers, blocking the way for anyone that wished to interrupt his sulking, and his twin, Aphena would creep to the other side and whisper to him, for only the young girl was capable of soothing her brother’s tantrums. The clarity made the mirage seem so real; so… tangible. It was as if, the young Nephriel could run out into the sun and…
Nephriel’s consious awoke with a jerk, eyes flashing opening to the jolts of the pain at his ankles; whatever sort of anesthetic that had knocked him out earlier had worn away to leave the dull pain that ate at his flesh and bones. Despite the lack of the drug, his body remained in shock from the assault of contrasting sensations that had constricted his form, thus paralyzing his limbs. A groan fluttered out past his lips; even his nostalgic dreaming would’ve been better than his current reality.
This can’t be happening…
His mind threatened to flicker out, hazy eyes attempting to focus on the view before he came to realize both his forehead and chin had been strapped to the stretcher as well.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…
A swell of resent grew inside him then and he silently cursed his captor for having thought of every possible way to have restrained him, his last thought meant to be a call to his lover before he was wheeled into another block-like structure.
Jair…Nephriel------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------JairHe looked a Ferdinand. Maybe an Alfonso. Either way, he was Swiss - and he spoke not a lick of English.
Or Greek, for that matter.
Leant forward in the back seat, with both hands grasping either front bucket seats, Jair rose his voice as if he were speaking to a deaf man, and he spoke slow, though the man clearly wasn't mentally handicapped.
"EYEEE NEEED TOOO GOOO THEREEE!" he called, whilst pointing in a certain direction. The fragrances of vanilla and Blanc de Noir, combined with some faint, sweet aroma, were combined to leave the lightest path for Jair's taking. "SOUTH! Ssssss-owwww-thhhhuh."
"Ich bin nicht ein alte frau, sie ruck!" I'm not an old lady, you jerk!
But Jair didn't know the literal translation, not at all, nor did he have the time to respond. Immediately following the cab driver's outburst, his foot slammed down on the gas pedal and the small, yellow vehicle shot forward without a warning. This motion - and lack of seatbelt - caused Jair to fly forward into the dash.
"What the hell is your damn problem, fuckwad?" Jair muttered, lifting a hand to his already fractured shoulder. Nerve damage had also ensued; it was a well hypothesis, considering the absolute numbness he was experiencing.
But there was no time to worry about such "trivial" things, now. Once upright in the passenger seat
... which Swiss dude felt the need to flail at and scream about ,
Jair noticed that the man was turning the car to veer in the right direction. And where were they headed? Toward the Alps.
"This trail better end before we hit those..."translation:
Nephriel de laFronde, it is in your best interest that you were kidnapped. Because if you were not, and you took your perfectly-capable-of-walking-and-bending-into-the-most-stunning-positions set of legs walking up a fucking mountain, only for me to follow your lead...
Your asscheeks will be red.
And the colour will not be a result of my hips slamming into them.****************************************** ***************************************
Joint post by: Arni and Claire
