(no subject)
TITLE: Dance of Death - Prelude
RATING: G
FANDOMS: Taniec Vampirow/Elisabeth
SUMMARY: Death has his first encounter with the young Johannes von Krolock.
PAIRINGS: N/A
WORDS: 1003
NOTES: Shush. This is a very short series called Dance of Death. Very short. This is the very first chapter. Yep. I'm working on them in sequence now. Okay, I wrote Elegy (it's chapter 4) first, but now, I'm getting back in sequence. Shush :P
Also, for the record, this is my new von Krolock, the Warsaw edition who featured in Begun by Blood. And he's drunk. I like him when he's mortal. He's fun :D _________________________
The tavern was full of merry students celebrating the end of another year, blissfully ignoring the fact that they would be scattered throughout Europe within a matter of days, returned to their homes and away from their jovial and intellectual compatriots.
Outside, the snow was falling, thick and crisp. The world was white and shadows of houses were only made visible by the candles in the windows and the dim glow of fires within them.
The students, however, were oblivious to such intricacies of the world beyond their next drink and significant philosophical debate. Two were certainly unaware of the fact that, within a matter of hours, each of them would be dead by the hand of the friend whom he was presently sagged against for support.
In a shadowed corner close to the roaring fire, somehow alone in the throng, a silent figure watched them, his pale eyes half-closed.
“To life!”
Death’s eyes flicked towards a group of tables that had been pulled together by a mass of young men. One of them was scrambling up atop the precariously-wobbling surface, a tankard raised in his hand.
“Mein Herr!” one of the barmaids exclaimed, flushing and hurrying towards him.
“To life!” the young man raised his voice even more, ignoring the barmaid, who was conveniently accosted by one of his friends and pulled down into an overly-friendly lap. “May it be eternal!”
A fair eyebrow was arched in the shadows.
“Ha, not gnawing on that old bone again, Johannes!” one of the young men at the table said in the tone of one who had heard that same toast before. “Life is life! You live, then you die. It is how things have always been and how they always will be.”
“Only for those who lack the vision to make it more,” the youth called Johannes announced, swaying and raising a hand imperiously. “In this age, have we not ventured beyond the imaginings of those of a hundred years ago?”
Leaning forward, Death’s eyes narrowed in silent scrutiny of the youth.
He was barely out of his teenage years, and the jet black hair that hung between his shoulders was breaking free of the binding that held it back. It appeared he had been in the tavern for quite some time, because his face was flushed from more than just the warmth, his cheeks dusted with stubble and his eyes glittering wildly.
“You have drunk too much, your mighty and most excellent Excellency.” One of the men in his company laughed aloud, clapping his hands together. On the tabletop, the man named Johannes wobbled, falling unsteadily onto one knee, but was still visible. “See! How can you argue when you cannot even stand?”
A swaying finger pointed at the outspoken man. “Even when drunk, I can outdebate you, Wilhelm,” he slurred, then threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, life! To life!” Using Wilhelm’s shoulder, he levered himself upright again. “To life!”
If they had not been watching before, at the merry laughter and raised voice every eye in the room turned to the striking young man, who was raising his tankard so enthusiastically that his drink was spattering over his companions, who laughed and raised then own drinks to him.
“So what are you saying then, Hannes?” It was the first young man speaking again, his grey eyes dancing with amusement. “To life? To shying from death? To living forever?”
Black eyes blinked, glassy with drink, then he laughed again, merrily. “All of them, my dear Herbert!” he exclaimed, bending slowly to look his friend in the face. “I will prove it can be done!”
“Blasphemy!”
As one, the man on top of the table and his two talkative friends looked towards a righteously-indignant youth who was standing at another table, pointing at them with no small amount of outrage.
On one knee on the table, the boy called Johannes smiled, bringing his tankard down on the tabletop forcefully. Then, he threw back his head and in a voice none could ignore, bellowed, “I alone will stand against death! Let it come for me!” With help from both his friends, he rose. He swayed for a moment, then raised his hands for silence and his voice was full of power and alcohol-laced passion. “To life!”
In the depths of the shadows, Death rose and raised his glass. It was full of a dark fluid. It was not wine.
“To life,” he murmured.
On the tabletop, he saw the man flinch and black eyes flicked towards him so suddenly that he wondered if the youth was as drunk as he appeared. Around the boy, he saw the flickers of something that was not of mortality, a shadow and a swirl of colour, a glimpse of a world beyond.
A seer.
Oh, how delightful.
The boy stared at him, as if seeing someone familiar yet someone he could not quite remember. Death inclined his head and raised his glass a fraction, which seemed to shatter whatever vision the boy was seeing. At his arms, the boy’s friends were supporting him, and Johannes’ legs buckled beneath him, the glassy veneer returning to his eyes.
Smiling slightly, Death watched as the dark-haired boy was helped down from the table, his two friends kindly looping his arms around their if no less drunk, then slightly more sober shoulders.
Interesting. Very interesting.
And a challenge on top of that.
True, it had been drunken exultation that he may not remember with the morning, but it had been a challenge nonetheless and Death appreciated nothing less than an arrogant young thing who thought he was invincible. And a seer. That would certainly add a new element to the game.
He saw the trio of young men shambling towards the door and knew he would see them all again, most especially the proud young Master Johannes von Krolock.
Taking a sip of the dark liquid in his glass, Death smiled and returned his attention to the two whom he would know within the hour. He could wait.
RATING: G
FANDOMS: Taniec Vampirow/Elisabeth
SUMMARY: Death has his first encounter with the young Johannes von Krolock.
PAIRINGS: N/A
WORDS: 1003
NOTES: Shush. This is a very short series called Dance of Death. Very short. This is the very first chapter. Yep. I'm working on them in sequence now. Okay, I wrote Elegy (it's chapter 4) first, but now, I'm getting back in sequence. Shush :P
Also, for the record, this is my new von Krolock, the Warsaw edition who featured in Begun by Blood. And he's drunk. I like him when he's mortal. He's fun :D _________________________
The tavern was full of merry students celebrating the end of another year, blissfully ignoring the fact that they would be scattered throughout Europe within a matter of days, returned to their homes and away from their jovial and intellectual compatriots.
Outside, the snow was falling, thick and crisp. The world was white and shadows of houses were only made visible by the candles in the windows and the dim glow of fires within them.
The students, however, were oblivious to such intricacies of the world beyond their next drink and significant philosophical debate. Two were certainly unaware of the fact that, within a matter of hours, each of them would be dead by the hand of the friend whom he was presently sagged against for support.
In a shadowed corner close to the roaring fire, somehow alone in the throng, a silent figure watched them, his pale eyes half-closed.
“To life!”
Death’s eyes flicked towards a group of tables that had been pulled together by a mass of young men. One of them was scrambling up atop the precariously-wobbling surface, a tankard raised in his hand.
“Mein Herr!” one of the barmaids exclaimed, flushing and hurrying towards him.
“To life!” the young man raised his voice even more, ignoring the barmaid, who was conveniently accosted by one of his friends and pulled down into an overly-friendly lap. “May it be eternal!”
A fair eyebrow was arched in the shadows.
“Ha, not gnawing on that old bone again, Johannes!” one of the young men at the table said in the tone of one who had heard that same toast before. “Life is life! You live, then you die. It is how things have always been and how they always will be.”
“Only for those who lack the vision to make it more,” the youth called Johannes announced, swaying and raising a hand imperiously. “In this age, have we not ventured beyond the imaginings of those of a hundred years ago?”
Leaning forward, Death’s eyes narrowed in silent scrutiny of the youth.
He was barely out of his teenage years, and the jet black hair that hung between his shoulders was breaking free of the binding that held it back. It appeared he had been in the tavern for quite some time, because his face was flushed from more than just the warmth, his cheeks dusted with stubble and his eyes glittering wildly.
“You have drunk too much, your mighty and most excellent Excellency.” One of the men in his company laughed aloud, clapping his hands together. On the tabletop, the man named Johannes wobbled, falling unsteadily onto one knee, but was still visible. “See! How can you argue when you cannot even stand?”
A swaying finger pointed at the outspoken man. “Even when drunk, I can outdebate you, Wilhelm,” he slurred, then threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, life! To life!” Using Wilhelm’s shoulder, he levered himself upright again. “To life!”
If they had not been watching before, at the merry laughter and raised voice every eye in the room turned to the striking young man, who was raising his tankard so enthusiastically that his drink was spattering over his companions, who laughed and raised then own drinks to him.
“So what are you saying then, Hannes?” It was the first young man speaking again, his grey eyes dancing with amusement. “To life? To shying from death? To living forever?”
Black eyes blinked, glassy with drink, then he laughed again, merrily. “All of them, my dear Herbert!” he exclaimed, bending slowly to look his friend in the face. “I will prove it can be done!”
“Blasphemy!”
As one, the man on top of the table and his two talkative friends looked towards a righteously-indignant youth who was standing at another table, pointing at them with no small amount of outrage.
On one knee on the table, the boy called Johannes smiled, bringing his tankard down on the tabletop forcefully. Then, he threw back his head and in a voice none could ignore, bellowed, “I alone will stand against death! Let it come for me!” With help from both his friends, he rose. He swayed for a moment, then raised his hands for silence and his voice was full of power and alcohol-laced passion. “To life!”
In the depths of the shadows, Death rose and raised his glass. It was full of a dark fluid. It was not wine.
“To life,” he murmured.
On the tabletop, he saw the man flinch and black eyes flicked towards him so suddenly that he wondered if the youth was as drunk as he appeared. Around the boy, he saw the flickers of something that was not of mortality, a shadow and a swirl of colour, a glimpse of a world beyond.
A seer.
Oh, how delightful.
The boy stared at him, as if seeing someone familiar yet someone he could not quite remember. Death inclined his head and raised his glass a fraction, which seemed to shatter whatever vision the boy was seeing. At his arms, the boy’s friends were supporting him, and Johannes’ legs buckled beneath him, the glassy veneer returning to his eyes.
Smiling slightly, Death watched as the dark-haired boy was helped down from the table, his two friends kindly looping his arms around their if no less drunk, then slightly more sober shoulders.
Interesting. Very interesting.
And a challenge on top of that.
True, it had been drunken exultation that he may not remember with the morning, but it had been a challenge nonetheless and Death appreciated nothing less than an arrogant young thing who thought he was invincible. And a seer. That would certainly add a new element to the game.
He saw the trio of young men shambling towards the door and knew he would see them all again, most especially the proud young Master Johannes von Krolock.
Taking a sip of the dark liquid in his glass, Death smiled and returned his attention to the two whom he would know within the hour. He could wait.