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What keeps Luc up at night (+18, mature themes)

 
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 10, 2016 9:45 am    Post subject: What keeps Luc up at night (+18, mature themes) Reply with quote

It was a ruined landscape he'd seen so many times before he'd lost count, one that he would remember forever despite only having experienced it for five years. It never changed, no matter what year it was in the present day; frozen back in those traumatic times back during the second Great War. Luc staggered through the blood soaked battlefield toward a destination he wished he could turn away from. His every step forward was a struggle, his boots being sucked down into the ground soaked in the blood of his comrades and enemies alike with the mud. The weight of the needless loss of life that they had all taken part in trying to suck him down into the muck. Sticky blood matted his chestnut coloured hair at one side of his head, running down into his eyes to sting to blur his vision from a wound that had healed but still bled. But he didn't need to see to navigate that terrain anymore .

His legs moved of their own accord, carrying him up a sloping hill that felt like a mountain. When he reached the crest of it, the putrid stench of rotting meat - rotting flesh, hit him hard like a vicious punch to the gut. Luc gagged at the assault to his olfactory sense and his stomach churned before he expelled its contents into the muck beside him, blood and bile splattering to mix with the other fluids of fallen soldiers. His trembling hands gripped tightly on his knees as he hunched over fighting to keep another wave of nausea from washing over him. The vampire did not want to look to the scene he knew would haunt him forever but he would...he always did...no matter how many times his mind screamed at him not to look.

Rusty brown eyes lifted to the valley on the other side of that hill as the sounds of the war faded behind him like he was entering a long tunnel. The echos of bombs exploding and wreaking their havoc, of zipping gunfire that ricocheted off objects too dense for their rounds to penetrate, of the terrified screams and agonized moans of young soldiers grievously wounded and dying, their whimpered pleas to save them, for their mothers to hold them falling on his deaf ears as he took in the gut wrenching sight.

Ash began to drift from the sky like a grey blizzard as his eyes took in the grotesque scene below. Mounds of bodies piled in a callous manner were strewn about the expanse of land, corralled by a high barbed wire fence and dotted with guard towers. From the towers and fence were despicable men in black uniform men hanging from nooses around their necks. Sadistic smirks and cruel smiles forever mocking him as he moved reluctantly through the gates and into the grounds. The piles of people were stripped of all clothing, of all belongings, of all dignity and left to rot in their shallow mass graves. Hundreds of them: men, women and children. Innocent men, women and children. These were not soldiers...these were needless casualties to a madman's grand vision, his 'final solution'.

No sound reached this desolate and macabre place now, not even that of his trudging feet through the ash that now covered everything in a thin blanket that was belched from those foul smoke stacks. When he reached to wipe the flakes from his face, it smeared on his fingers red rather than a grey soot colour. He stared at his hand covered in the sticky red mess before lifting his eyes again to the piles. Their dead eyes frozen open and staring at him as he walked by as if to say, you weren't here to save us. You were too late. Always too late. Never enough. The crushing weight of helplessness followed him with their gaze.

Occasionally their lifeless eyes would impossibly blink or their cracked lips would stretch open in a silent scream. No matter how he turned his head away, there was always another face to greet him with the same haunting and lifeless scrutiny.

There was only one way to achieve a brief reprieve from their stares and he squeezed his eyes shut to block them out. He reluctantly opened them again after a moment to settle the quickly rising fear to discover that the piles had grown in size.

The bodies were no longer nameless faces of those unfortunate souls that had died in the Camp but those throughout his personal life. Influential friends that had seen him through his course to the man he was today. His parents and siblings the first to add to the piles, as he had remembered them in his youth before he'd left on his journey north to yet another war so long ago. His friends, lovers and comrades during the years that ticked past heaped on top of them. Their limbs tangled and withered like all the others, their faces left pristine as if only in order for him to identify who they were without doubt. Luc shook his head, filled with a growing dread as they fell from seemingly nowhere to land with sickening heavy thuds onto the stacks. He bolted away from the ghastly mountain in an attempt to escape the ever growing mass of bodies, only to trip over something in his path of retreat.

When his gaze flicked down to see the cause, he discovered he hadn't just tripped over something; a hand had grabbed him, having jutted out from under one of the piles he'd been racing past.

The hand clutched and clawed at the fabric of his pants to haul the body it belonged to out of the mass of corpses. A face he'd come to know and call true friend despite their extreme differences all that time ago stared vacantly up at him. A friend who'd given him the gift of once again being able to walk in the sunlight. The young Shadowhunter crawled up Luc's legs as he lay prone from his tumble, too stunned to move as his dead friend crept ever further. To Luc's horror, his fallen friend only pulled free a lower torso. Entrails like thick fat bloody earthworms wriggled at the jagged stump where legs should have been. The Daylighter let out a strangled appalled cry and kicked away, terror filling his eyes as he scrambled to his feet and away.
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Last edited by SouthernDaylight on Mon Sep 19, 2016 6:14 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 10, 2016 10:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The mounds of bodies broke apart and twisted in a horrible fashion, turning to piles of strewn rubble; destroyed buildings and places he used to enjoy visiting. Paris, New Orleans and New York bled together to create a bastardized reality of his past. His childhood plantation home sat in decrepit ruins under a bent and deformed Eiffel Tower. St. Louis Cathedral and its cemetery with its solemn mausoleums and cross-shaped headstones in shambles next to an abandoned Times Square with its concrete cracked and cratered. Time and distance warped and merged together as he ran and scrambled through the ruined streets for some semblance of life, of comfort.

Luc raced down streets that skipped impossibly in a tangled maze that he navigated: rue St. Ann, Broadway, Rue de Rennes. He careened toward the only still standing and intact building, the old priory turned museum, one of the many places that he'd spent a time calling home. But as he neared it, the terrible whining whistle of a mortar shell heralded its decent before the building exploded into pieces, launching him back with the force of the impact. He was knocked clear off his feet and thrown to the ground, adding more cuts and bruises to his battered and dirty self.

“No....non....nonono.” Panicked and desperate pleading fell from his lips as he scrambled on his hands and knees toward the destruction and began digging with scraped hands in the rock and brick. His fingernails tore and ripped with the force and frenzy of his frantic clawing, smearing blood on the stone as he desperately dug into the rubble in a mad search.

When he came across it, he gave a whimper like a tormented animal and bloody tears welled in his eyes. “Please, no...Justine.” He begged the still form of the woman that had been killed and buried by the levels of destroyed building. The one that he'd spent so many years hating only to discover she had only ever wanted him to be happy. The woman that had turned him into the vampire he had grown to accept. He pulled her from the wreckage to cradle her broken and still form, rocking and continuing to whimper.

Even though she was long dead, she reached up and slowly reached into his chest like it were made of butter to remove his tender heart that beat in a frantic rhythm. It hurt like a hot knife but he looked on as she tore a piece free from the still beating heart and handed it back, letting it land wetly in his hands before she burst into ash to mingle with that that had fallen from the sky and cover him in.

Luc staggered to his feet, clutching at his heart that slowed and when he turned to limp away, he discovered one of the withered corpses from the piles had followed him. Her face gentle and soft but sad, her bones protruding sickeningly and her form should not have been able to support the weight. They hadn't been able to when he'd found her in that state.

Bloody red tears made streaks in his ash covered face as he choked back another whimper, taking a staggering step toward Natalia before he lost all strength in his legs and fell to his knees. Luc weakly lifted his arms, holding up his heart for the woman to take. She leaned down and placed a tender kiss to his forehead that cleared a small smudge of the ash away from his face. A burning sensation lanced through him, evoking a sorrow he could barely control before she placed her hand over the heart and squeezed.

A fresh searing pain lanced through his chest as the heart struggled to beat against the force crushing down on it. When her hand pulled away, another piece was missing from the organ that stammered and struggled for regular rhythm. She whispered something soundlessly, her lips moving as her features began to whither and crack rapidly. Her kind hazel eyes rolling back into her head as she pitched backward, exploding into ash when her body hit the ground.

A long mournful sob pulled from Luc's throat when he was alone again as he clutched his heart to his chest. Try as he might, it refused to return to its proper resting place within its rib cage. He bent over at his waist to touch his forehead to the ground, overcome with grief and sorrow for a time he remained hunched there as he cried.
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Last edited by SouthernDaylight on Sat Sep 10, 2016 3:40 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 10, 2016 10:36 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

His decent into overwhelming grief was rudely interrupted by shots ringing out, some rounds zinging past his head, scraping across stone as they ricocheted off the rubble before he dove for cover. Around a corner of an alleyway between two buildings just down the street from the neon sign of the Pandemonium club buzzed. The florescent lights flickering on and off in strategic spots to periodically flash 'demon' within the Downworlder club's name.

Two familiar concerned faces stood across from him in the alley way, mischievous bottle green cat eyes and warm gentle dark brown ones told of deep worry for his well-being. Zynn and Lita urged him to stay with them around the corner, hidden behind the cover and safe. To not venture back out into the dangerous night but he shook his head, ignoring their well meaning warnings to peer around the corner.

The shooter, a black haired woman shot more rounds at him: black uniform, black eyes, black nails, black heart. Salome. Three gunshot wound sized holes appeared in his heart despite how he clutched it protectively to himself, blood oozing from the wounded thing that jumped, convulsed and stuttered...slowing down before it stopped completely.

In a panic, Luc shook the thing; squeezing it in a rhythm in a vain attempt to try and get it to start again, trying to get it to do anything again but it lay a still and limp mass of cold flesh in his hands. Anger welled up in him as he bolted from around the safety of the corner and charged at the woman who seemed disinterested and not at all surprised. She lowered the gun instead of firing more rounds at him as he crashed into her, tackling her off her feet with the impact and following her to the pavement to straddle her.

The heart and gun tumbling to the ground away from where they landed hard. Luc screamed hateful things into her face but she simply smirked and flicked open a concealed switch blade that she then jammed it into his empty chest and twisted slowly.

He gasped in shock and saw the blade plunge into the heart just a few feet from him to mirror the action the warlock had made. He let out another angry cry and lost control, a savage snarl ripped from him as he lowered his face to her neck and tore into it like a wild animal. The heat rolled over him in waves at the metallic taste that filled his mouth, going from warm and sweet to hot and spicy as he drained the life from his victim, tearing out her throat as she gurgled and wheezed. A monstrous thrill filled him at the sounds and sensations of her life ebbing away and when she was gone, he pulled back to sit back on his heels his face tilted back up to the sky as he panted and trembled with a perverse satisfaction. He felt a surge of pain in his chest again that caused his eyes to snap open again look down at his victim.

White dreadlocks were splattered with her own blood as her throat gaped open like a great grisly maw at him from the destruction he'd wrought. She held his mangled heart still in both her hands between them.

Another quiet whimper came from him and a slight shake of his head, guilt and regret washing over him along with the raging inferno that flowed from the firestarter. Luc leaned down and slanted his lips over hers in a hard desperate kiss. When he did, the broken and wounded heart picking up a sudden frenzy of rhythm, rapidly pounding before her hands thrust forward and jammed the ruined organ back into his chest.

Luc sat up with a jolt in his bed, tangled in his sheets in his new apartment. For a moment, he was confused at where he was, his hand clutching at his chest where his heart worked to fuel his body on borrowed blood. He sat there a few moments, trying to choke down the tangled mess of memories and fears that warped his brain in the form of the nightmare before he flopped down again, letting out a low groan.

His hand searched out his cellphone to check the time....2:43am. A sigh and he reached a forearm across his face to cover his eyes in the crook of his elbow. He lay like that for a few moments before lifting his phone in front of his face and typing out a message on the almost painfully glowing screen. He deleted the message a few times, unable to find the right words...the appropriate words. Then, finally settling on some sembalance of what he needed to say, hit send.

'u haunting my dreams now, petite'
'why can't I get you outta my mind?'

With a heavy sigh he pitched his phone back onto the nightstand and swung his feet around the side of the bed to press onto the cool laminate floor, rubbing his hands over his face. He supposed it wasn't too early to start working on his car...he wasn't going to get anymore sleep tonight anyway.
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 27, 2016 12:03 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Twilight Isle was quickly becoming one of Luc's favourite places to visit with Elise. It was entertaining to watch the tall blond marvel like a wide-eyed child at the glittering sky filled with stars so very different from Earth's own constellations. The vampire didn't find astronomy something of personal interest past the beauty of the still night sky but he didn't have to be interested in the topic or even understand it to enjoy watching the excited girl point out her findings to him.

He leaned down so that his eyes were in line with her shoulder, gaze trailing up her bare arm to launch beyond where her finger pointed to the sky at her newest discovery and explanation from her astronomy course. As he kept his head there to search for what she was pointing at, she turned her face to kiss his cheek. The gesture a clever ruse to lure her unsuspecting victim into a tender ‘public’ display of affection even though it was just the pair of them in view. A wide grin slowly came to creep across his lips at the mildly mischievous nature of the deaf girl who'd come to slowly mend his wounded heart.

Instead of smiling back at him with the same amusement and mirth though, she held a sorrowful look and turned to face him, taking his cheeks in her hands to hold a moment. Luc gave a fat blink and gave a contented, albeit unnecessary sigh, before noticing the saddened look on her face. A questioning and concerned look crossed his own features before he asked, “Elise, wha's wrong, cher?”

She smiled, though it was a thing still tinged with melancholy, “Can't help you with these still holding you...” Elise only spoke when they were alone together; her self-esteem bolstered in the privacy they shared; where she didn't feel uncomfortable with the speech impediment that frequently accompanied the loss of hearing at such a young age. Where she found it to be a repulsive and embarrassing factor of her being, he found her perceived flaws made her more unique. A 'broken' girl could save a 'broken' boy.

He felt her warm touch drift down his arms in a gentle and tender journey but frowned a little when her hands failed to touch his flesh around his wrists and instead jumped to touching his hands. He wondered why she had skipped over the spot and looked down to discover she hadn't skipped over it....there were thick metal shackles approximately two and a half inches wide on both his wrists that had blocked the connection between them. The shackles were connected to long lengths of thick heavy chain that trailed out behind him, disappearing somewhere into the nexus beyond. He looked startled and lifted his arms to inspect them, pulling at the restraints that lead to seemingly nowhere. On his legs, he noticed, were similar clamps that when he took a step, rattled the chains.

A sudden alarm filled his dark eyes as he looked back to Elise's honey colored ones that still held that somber regret, “...Maybe one day...” Somehow, the wholly mundane girl reached into the stars above them that swirled around as if at her command and formed a key that she then plucked from the very air. He moved his arms forward in a rush for her to fit the key into the locks and release him from the restraints, eager to see the weight removed. Before she could, though, a forceful yank jerked on one of the chains attached to his arm, whipping his arm back suddenly. He gave a startled cry and reflexively resisted with a yank of his own. Wrapping his hands around the heavy chain to pull some slack back into it. His effort was successful for but a moment before one of the chains connected to a shackle at his leg was violent enough to pull his feet out from under him.

Luc landed flat on his back with a hard thump onto the sand of the beach. He dug his heels in and sat up to pull on the chains again that began to reel him into some gaping black maw that stretched wide and threaten to swallow him into oblivion. He flipped over onto his belly in an attempt to scramble in the opposite direction. Back to Elise and her key that promised freedom. Back to the comfort and happiness the sweet girl provided. But the more he struggled, the more taut the chains became, not allowing his efforts to bare any headway. Soon he found that any progress he had made was negated and he was pulled steadily backward, leaving rivets in the sand where he tried to grip and keep hold in vain.

The perpetual dusk of the Isle and Elise’s form shrank from his view as he was reeled backward to where ever the chains pulled him. He felt like he made contact with an invisible brick wall when he came to a sudden stop. A sharp and sudden stabbing pain erupted in his chest causing him to gasp and attempt to reach and clutch at the spot but the chains held his arms out straight to his sides; threatening to dislocate them with the tension they enacted on his limbs.

A cluck of a tongue came from his left and out of the inky darkness came the dark haired vampiress who'd opened his eyes to the darkness he dwelled in now. Her blue-green eyes were hypnotic in the way they stared at him, always captivating even when he wanted to tear out her throat.

“Lucien, why must you keep doing this to yourself.” The faintest hint of French tilting her proper English words. Wrapped around her slender forearm, over the long black sleeves, was a thick chain that snaked its way out into the darkness but he knew was attached to one of his aching limbs.

Luc shook his head, “...I dun mean to...” He always felt so small under Justine's critical gaze - like a child; a teenager that just didn't comprehend the gravity of anything in the great wide world, “Please, Justine, lemme go...”

She sighed just as unnecessary for her as it was for him and continued her approach until she could place her hand against his cheek. She occasionally exhibiting the patience of a saint at times in dealing with the youth. Cool hand against cool cheek for a brief moment before she ran her slender fingers back through his chestnut hair, “Other way around, Lucien...you need to let me go.”

The vampire knew that, he knew that well indeed...it had been long enough but he had so many things he hadn't gotten to tell her before she was taken away from him. She was his confidant in the cruel world he'd been thrust into by her hand and he missed her. He could use her guidance now more than ever in the way his life had taken its twisting turns.

His heart gave another surge of pain, forcing him to gasp with the intensity of the agony it brought. His eyes screwed shut tightly and after a moment he heard a soft sweet hum of a tune that made his heart break all over again.

He didn't want to open his eyes, his head hung to his chest as he gave a soft pleading whimper. A warm petite hand smoothed across his cheek where the cold one had been moments before and he turned into it, biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“Nat.” He croaked, Luc didn't need to open his eyes to know that was how stood before him now. Cruely trading places with his sire in the sick torrent of torment this dark place provided. Her earthy scent and the gentle lullaby in her throat gave clear indication for his senses as to who it was.

Petal soft lips pressed to his opposite cheek, the airy melody in his ear as his heart wrenched, “Natalia...I'm sorry....so sorry...” Her song stopped at his whimpered words and he opened his eyes a little. Chocolate orbs gone glassy as his gaze took in the smaller dark haired woman. Her European features round and sturdy, youthful and kind.

She smiled kindly and held his face in both her hands, “Eet wasn't your fault, Kochanie...eet wasn’t. Nothing you could hef done.” One arm held a length of chain; another tether connected that just wouldn’t release him. Her thumbs brushed along his cheeks as he swallowed back the lump that kept him from speaking more words of regret to his former love.

“I’m still sor-” He started and was interrupted by another voice, full of fire and annoyance.
Riiight, yup, still sorry. Stars and ****in’ stones, Luc, were you always this pathetic?” Luc felt his teeth slam shut together as a surge of anger burned at him before he tore his gaze from Natalia and glared at Salome.

Of course, the warlock was grinning that half-cocked cheshire cat grin, that would never change. Why did he ever fall for her? How could he have ever loved her? Luc knew why, he just hated admitting to it and those facts made that surge of anger pulse out in all sorts of directions. Inward, at her, at everything else around him.

Va te faire enculer, Salope Martin.” Her first name substituted for a rather unkind alternative. Her surname was spat with all the venom he could muster sounding strange with the French accent assigned to it.

A roll of black eyes and a dismissive wave of a black clawed hand, a gesture that oozed a devil-may-care nonchalant manner. Her other arm, not being waved about as if his curse was simply smoke in the air, was likewise wrapped in a chunky chain link leash.

She snorted, a harsh sound through such a dainty nose, “Yeah yeah, Eiffel tower croissant baguette to you too, Luc.” The warlock accented his name with her own terrible version of a French accent and delivered a savage jerk to the chain. White hot pain shot through his chest then through his hip where it felt his leg was going to rip from its socket, doing cruel things to his groin that made him suck in a breath.

Putain!” The curse given in a hiss at Salome in a volume that was certainly loud enough for her to hear. He’d never cursed so much as when he spent those years with the Warlock pair of women. Indulging in all manner of frivolous leisure and hedonistic debauchery through the 70’s and 80’s. Salome certainly had taken on more and more of Bianca’s traits over the years, assuredly not any of her better ones which were very few and far between.

It certainly hadn’t been until Crispin made his appearance in their lives and Salome took notice of the boy that Luc realized that his fun and games with the black haired warlock had become something more over those years.

The object of his long standing pining ways and current hate waggled a black taloned finger at him as if chastising him for his language accompanied with a cluck of her tongue. Luc growled and narrowed his dark eyes on Salome. Usually gentle and warm chocolate brown hues taking on a more reddish hue, lending them a look of drying blood. Luc began to struggle against the chains but they had no slack to grant him.

His face was turned with the guidance of a dainty hand that belonged to yet another woman that had come to haunt his dreams and nightmares.

Frak, baby boy, so heated, yo.” Roach had a particular way of speaking; that soda-pop sass of a New York brat kissed with the southern charm of his place of birth. Good ol’ Nawlins. He missed it more often than he cared to admit and the blond firestarter reminded him painfully of that fact...maybe that was part of why he fell so hard, so fast and so unexpectedly for the girl he knew practically nothing about.

He gave a teeth sucking sound of annoyance at being called the term of endearment she so often used. It wasn’t endearing, not to him anyway and not at that particular moment, it just made him feel like a petulant child and belittled his anger at the woman who had hurt him. For a petite human girl to make him feel that way frustrated the hell out of him. Though with Roach, he was frustrated to Hell for a multitude of various reasons.

The tendons in his neck strained against her slight hand to turn back to his heated glare at Salome but somehow the small warm hand held him fast. A mischievous grin that pulled on her lips seemed to tell the tale that she knew good and well he couldn’t control his actions to turn from her.

“Dammit, Petite. Merde….” Luc murmured, the will to fight rapidly slipping from him as the NOLA rat gave that maddening little kitten bite to her lower lip and slid her hands down along his neck and across his chest. Her touch igniting sensations in him that burned and made him feel alive. Fresh cruell sensations sprung to life in his groin without the need of a jerking chain. And despite his helpless predicament, the vampire gave a groan of desire and an attempt to acquire more contact with the dreadlocked temptress.

Dark but delightfully erotic little promises glittered in Roach’s captivatingly deep hazel eyes as her nails scratched and teased along his chest. Her deft fingers undoing the buttons that held his shirt closed with practiced skill until his bared chest was exposed to bewitching trails that left pleasurable red lines in their wake. She leaned in close, a breath away from his lips, filling his nostrils with the scent that was wholly hers - patchouli and magnolia, her hands finally going still on his naked chest before giving a sudden and vicious shove.

Luc flew much farther than he should have at the small girl’s shove, shock clear on his face as his body spiralling back into a new abyss that stretched on forever but ultimately didn’t. His back impacted brutally against wood, causing it to splinter but not as much as it should have with his full body weight crashing into it. The pine box was made to just his size and held his personal effects from the war where brother fought against brother and so many young men died. Including himself.

The chains around his limbs slithered to life like great metal snakes, wrapping around him and weighing him down. New chains burst from the dirt walls that surrounded him on four sides, leaving the six feet of empty space above him open to view the four familiar faces peering over the edge down at him; shovels in hand.

Luc thrashed and began to panic as the first few shovelfuls of dirt were heaped on his struggling body. Realization on what was going to happen started sinking in quickly. The vampire screamed and pleaded, not wanting to be buried alive with no way to escape. To be left in the cold hard ground for eternity. To be left alone forever....

Luc woke up choking as the nightmare ended with him getting a shovel full of dirt in his face. He coughed and clutched at his throat for the phantom blockage there as he sat in bed, tangled tightly in his sheets. Of course, there was no real obstruction, just fear choking the tormented vampire.

His limbs ached and his throat burned with the tensing of his muscles he’d achieved in his restless sleep. Sometimes, he really wished he could sleep like the dead were supposed to.

With a long groan of frustration, Lucien collapsed back into his mattress. He took a few moments to abruptly kick the tight restriction of wrapped sheets off him completely and glared up at the ceiling. He was seriously getting tired of his own brain sabotaging his happiness.

“Jus’ can’t win.” Luc laid there and glowered at the innocent ceiling, knowing sleep would not be coming again tonight.
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PostPosted: Wed Mar 01, 2017 10:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

He didn't remember getting hit by a truck but that was what it certainly felt like. His whole body ached; his head was pounding and when he went to press the heels of his hands into his eye sockets to push against the pressure the headache throbbing there, he found he couldn't.

A confused frown came to his lips as he tried again but his arms were locked in place. His eyes opened a crack to peer about to discover he was seated in a wooden chair. Shackled to it to be more precise. He gave a jerk of his each of his arms in turn in an attempt to pull the band of metal off the wood and free himself but his strength was sapped. Being a regular human had its drawbacks in situations like this and it would seem, in this dream, he was just that. He looked around from his position, alone in a dark stone space that smelled damp and earthy. It was dark though and without his enhanced vision, he didn't know how large the area was. He couldn't see more than a couple of feet of distance around him.

In failing to find any hint at where he was when he cast his gaze around he decided to concentrate his attention on his seat. Upon this closer inspection of the chair, he discovered it wasn't an ordinary run of the mill chair but an old decommissioned electric chair. At least he hoped it was decommissioned! His dark eyes darted about for some sort of cable connecting to the chair that told of any active power source to fuel the potentially fatal throne. In finding none, he sagged a bit with relief, some of that rising panic fading a touch.

“Hello?” He called, “Anyone dere?” Suddenly a metallic clunk brought a harsh glaring spotlight on overhead. Luc gave a strangled pained cry as the brightness blinded him and sent black and red dots spinning about in his vision. It certainly hadn't made his head feel any better that was for sure.

“Just you.” A familiar voice said. He wasn't sure how he heard his own voice when he hadn't opened his mouth.

Between a series of hard blinks and rapid ones along with the readjustment to not being in a pitch dark room, he found he was indeed in a room. As his vision cleared of the blotches, he once again looked about his surroundings to find himself in some sort of isolated police interrogation room. A large window that occupied just about the whole wall before him was blacked out though he knew somehow there was a room back there.

Beside the window in the room with him was...himself.

The pair of Benoit boys watched each other a moment: one in disbelief and one with a quiet dispassionate gaze, looking bored.

“I'm dreamin’...”

“Are ya?”

Luc frowned at himself, “A course I am. Dat, dis....” He jerked his chin toward his doppelganger since he couldn't flail to indicate the bizarreness of the situation and snorted, “Ain't possible. So ya, I dreamin'.”

The other him smirked, lifting a shoulder in a nonchalant manner. While it was indeed Luc, there were some differences...things about himself that he had buried deep inside and swore to himself he would never see again. The murderous glint in his bloody red eyes, the slicked back hair, blood splattered clothes. The ruthless, vengeance-fuelled and hate-filled monster that had hunted down men, taking great pleasure in torturing them before murdering them in the most painful ways he could devise. They had deserved it, he'd told himself on countless occasions. Nazis and Nazi sympathizers - they were the monsters...not him. But after near three decades of hunting men like dogs, he had fallen deep into a dark pit of hell and become a monster himself with nothing to remind him of how good the world could be.

Luc shook his head violently a moment to try and rid himself of the memories, “I done wit'chu....I ain't you no mo. An’ y'ain't me.”

Other Luc snorted, rolling his crimson eyes before letting them come back to rest on the powerless Daylighter in the chair, “Aw, Luc, I always gunna be you. Somewhere deep inside. Maybe no so close t'd'surface anymore, but inside all d’same. I jus' waitin' fo y’t’slip up. T’just give in t’dat sweet lust again.” When he grinned wide, his fangs were exposed rather than hiding away as they normally were, “If y'ask me. I tink y'need t'be a li'l more like me an' less like y'been. Less pathetic. Less emotional, ya? Less you.”

Luc made an annoyed teeth sucking sound against his teeth and squinted into the darkness of the lineup room beyond the window not wanting to give his evil reflection any sort of response his comment. There was some movement beyond but, even though his vision had cleared, he didn't seem to have any of his enhanced abilities that the demonic curse granted.

Other Luc noticed the squint and smirked that slow wicked smile that seemed so out of place on the now kind hearted vampire, “Wanna play a game, Luc?”

“I wanna get outta dis 'ere chair is wha I want. Dat an' t'wake up outta dis crazy BS.”

“Sure sure....after d'game.” With a wave of his hand, a light switch was flicked on and the room beyond was illuminated. Two individuals stood with their backs to the height chart, a small lineup. One short, one tall. Two women he recognized well. Two women he cared deeply for. Two women he couldn’t seem to get the hell out of his head.

Luc felt his stomach clench and twist at seeing those familiar faces and he cast a glare at the Other him as he jerked at the shackles again, “Seriously? Can't I get a regular nightmare 'bout fallin' or goin’ t’class nekkid? Maybe jus' a regular ol' bein' chased by monsters sorta dream? Why it always gotta be dis, ah? Wha's d'big idea?! I done wit dis! I made m’choice.” Frustrated, he squirmed as he shot dirty looks to the villainous Luc.

Other Luc had to chuckle, “'Ey...we dream 'bout wha's most on our mind, ya? Y'know y'made yo choice out loud but did ya ‘onestly? Why would we be ‘ere if y’was so ‘done wit dis BS’?” His tongue came to run along his protruding fangs and red eyes turned to leer at the women, “It still racin' about in dat sad li'l brain a yours, isn't it?”

“Shut up.” Luc grumbled but, again, refused to give answer the questions. His response only caused the wicked mirror image of himself to chuckle and rap his knuckles against the glass. When he did, the entirety of the surroundings merged and warped into a narrow hallway of some club. The house music thumping through the walls and echoing down the corridor told to how loud it was beyond. Luc was still strapped to his chair while Other Luc was at the far end of the hall. Between them was a scene that made the Daylighter’s teeth grind together and if looks could kill, he would have struck the offending party dead a hundred times over.

Half way between the two Benoit boys was Elise and the werewolf, he’d only just discovered, that was obsessed with her. In the waking world and not some twisted dream, Elise buffeted Marcus’s adamant advances and lustful desires despite her own conflicted emotions but here, Luc wasn’t so lucky. His hearing impaired girlfriend looked like she was quite enjoying herself being pinned against the wall by the hulking form of the brutish beast. One of his rough calloused hands ‘trapping’ her willing wrists above her head and the other moving up under the leather of her skirt at her thigh. She looked absolutely lascivious as her heel hooked at the back of the wolfman’s thigh to hold his hips flush against hers; her lower lip trapped between her own teeth before Marcus crushed his lips against hers a possessive and passionate devouring kiss.

Luc growled and bared his teeth, struggling against his restraints. He wanted out of that chair so he could try and go another round with the werewolf for even thinking about touching Elise. “Lemme up, y’couyon!” He snapped across the hall at the smirking him whose lecherous attention was solely on the pair engaged in a rather indecent display.

A brief glance to the chair-captive with his crimson eyes before they returned to the pair, giving a tisk, “In a public place no less…” Lucien chuckled and strolled down the hall so he could get a better view; leaning his shoulder against the wall next to the couple who seemed oblivious to being watched as clothing was strategically shed to provide maximum access while maintaining some illusion of modesty.

“Je vais te tuer…” Luc snarled, his own warm chocolate eyes beginning to shift to the color of dried blood. His hands clenched in a white knuckled grip against the arms of the chair that granted no freedom of movement.

The change in Luc’s eyes brought a wicked smile to Lucien’s lips as he somehow moved through the pair like they were simply ghosts in some supernatural movie or television show...or perhaps he was the incorporeal one. Either way, it had the vampire on the near side of the pair engaging in debaucherous activity, “Dat’s it, Luc, dat’s d’feelin’ y’should be ‘angin’ onto. Dat make y’right mad. But wha’ make it worse is y’know she like it. Y’know she want it bad.” As if to prove the validity of the scoundrel’s words, Elise’s wordless moans grew in pitch and frequency.

“Stop it.” Luc growled through grit teeth at his unnatural twin but his lower lip trembled a bit with the sorrowful emotion that was starting to build. The nightmare feeding on all those insecurities he held about what Elise had shared with him about her classmate. She had been honest with him and divulged that, while she had repeatedly refused the werewolf’s propositions, she couldn’t deny the strange arousal she’d felt whenever the feral man had been far too close. It hurt deep inside and made him feel that, at any moment, she would realize that he was a monster that fed on the life of the living and leave him. Luc squeezed his eyes shut tightly to try and will the scene away, not wanting to see anymore. Not wanting to hear anymore. Not wanting Lucien to taunt him with the terrible visions of what he feared could very well happen.

A sharp slap came abruptly to his cheek that had his head forced to the side with the viciousness of it. He snarled and snapped his attention back ahead and his eyes flying open again to glare at the shadow of him but he was out of reach. In fact, he was quite a few feet away, on a familiar cliffside road in the dark of night. Dazzling stars dotted the sky above with foreign constellations he was slowly learning the names of. The distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks and the scent of sea salt in the ocean spray drifted through the air.

“Y’know...Tings could be so much mo easy fo ya. Why y’make dem so daym ‘ard, putain?” The vile version of Lucien wasn’t alone on the road. That midnight blue muscle car that meant so much to him was pulled over and Roach slowly circling back around to the nearside of the car. Her black painted fingertips trailing behind her along the body of the mustang in a lazy languid manner grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

The circle made and a once over given of the car, the peroxide blonde made a satisfied sound in her throat as she moved over to stand between Lucien and the car. A wicked grin seemed permanently plastered to the deplorable man’s lips as his scarlet eyes trailed, anything but subtly, along her petite form before casting a knowing look back over to Luc. Luc’s teeth ground together, causing his jaw to jump and pulse; his reddish-brown colored eyes narrowing hatefully on the other him.

Soon though, Lucien was fully distracted by the fine bundle of trouble petting her hands over him as they had on the car, feeling the curves and form and approving. She gave that seductive little kitten bite to her lower lip with a scorching look of want in her hazel eyes. Her lip was held captive right up until she gripped at Lucien’s shirt with both hands gathering the fabric, using it to reel him into her for a slow deliberate kiss. A sultry action that soon turned into fervent need by both parties.

“Get yer ****in’ ‘ands offa ‘er, y’****in’ bastard!” Luc snarled and yanked hard at the restraints with a renewed vigor but was completely ignored by the pair. It was strange yelling obscenities at himself but he knew what sort of foul things he had done when he had been that man. That monster. And he hated the idea of that man's hands on Lizzie.

Palms were pressed against the frame of the car and a purposeful grinding had his friend’s backside pressing teasingly against his darkest aspect, oblivious to the danger that the vampire posed. A tight fist in her hair to pull her head back elicited a small gasp from her before an amused purr as it seemed to only spur on their lustful activities.

Luc continued to shout and rail at all that was savage and cruel in him so close to one of the people he cared most about. Curses in French, Creole and English were merged in a bastardized slew of rage. The images of Lucien’s lips and teeth against Roach’s pale bare tattooed flesh as she writhed back into him soon all became too much for him to handle. How she willingly opened her legs for him and knew that his mind was tormenting him on not only this Dark version of him doing these things but also the cruel reminder of what he had refused. His eyes squeezed shut as he let out an animalistic scream of frustration.

When he opened his eyes again his cruel self was gone and he’d seemed to taken his place, the only ‘him’ was there to engage in the horrors to come. He was the one standing in front of Lizzie now though a forlorn look replaced the lustful one she held but a moment ago. She was turned to face him, dressed fully and looking so very vulnerable with her face covered in dried tears and mascara tracks. Her plum-painted lips trembled as she looked up at him with a silent sorrowful question. Fresh tears spilled over her lower lashes as she looked down to the space between them. His gaze followed hers to his hand, to the middle of his forearm, plunged into her chest. With a vicious yank, he withdrew, wrenching her still beating heart out in a savage rending. It sputtered and struggled in vain to continue pumping the life-giving blood to her system. Spurts of thick viscous blood were ejected from the mangled arteries and veins, splattering the both of them.

The dreadlocked girl rocked on her feet a moment, a look of overwhelming pain and betrayal on her face as she began to lose strength in her legs and sagged to the ground. As she pitched over onto her side, her glassy dead eyes stared up at him with that look of betrayal and horror. He’d torn out her heart figuratively while awake, why not do it literally here?

Her heart, still warm but silent and still, slipped from his gore covered hand to land wet and useless next to the now dead girl who has been so full of life.

A scream drew his attention away from the pretty corpse to Elise alone in the hall he’d seen her in before with Marcus. In a blur of movement, he was in front of her, his teeth tearing into her slender throat with a savage ferocity he had sworn against. Blood and viscera was flung in wild arches and sprays to splatter against the narrow corridor to decorate the walls and floor in a macabre paint. His ears were acutely aware of the strangled gurgling sounds she made as she struggled to continue her screaming. His heightened senses measuring the time in between her rapidly weakening heartbeats.

When he stood from his stooped position over Elise on the floor, the front of him was covered in sticky vital fluid. His shirt, face and hands were a slick red reminder of what he'd just done.

Instead of panic, regret and terror he should have normally felt when participating in the terrible things he'd just done to the two women that he loved, he felt a sick sense of glee. It tingled through his limbs like lightning, setting off sparks along all of his nerve endings and stirring a bloodlust deep in his belly that he hadn’t felt in a very long time and prayed he never would again.

He gazed about at their lifeless forms, pools of blood slowly spreading out from their sprawled positions to form glossy black puddles. He smiled, slow and unhinged, looking up to find himself looking back in a mirror. His gleaming red eyes staring back at him.

He heard himself laughing like a madman, echoing all around him but his lips hadn't moved.

Luc’s body jerked him awake violently and for a moment he was terribly disoriented and confused. That echoing laugh still ringing in his mind and the images of the whole ordeal replaying in vivid detail.

“**** me..” Luc murmured and looked to the side, hoping his convulsion hadn’t disturbed Elise in her sleep. It seemed to have startled Ruger though as the floppy black shepherd pup wandered over to Luc’s side of the king sized bed to rest his fuzzy chin on the mattress. The vampire reached over and ruffled the dog's head, actually glad to have him there...animals were good for lonely or sad people and while he had Elise not two feet from him, he hadn't felt this cold and alone in a long while.

“Good boy....” he murmured and was answered with a happy tail wag.
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