(no subject)
TITLE: Dance of Death - Pastorale
RATING: G
FANDOMS: Taniec Vampirow/Elisabeth
CHAPTERS: Prelude, Nocturne, this chapter and Elegy
SUMMARY: Death continues to watch over the von Krolock clan.
PAIRINGS: IMplications of Death/Herbert
WORDS: 1211
NOTES: This is chapter 3 in the Dance of Death series and I have to say I adore the imagery of this chapter something awful :D This is the last chapter pre-Herbert-turning, which means we're into sequence from here on in.
_________________________
It was a beautiful day, the skies clear and blue, the sun scorching brightly across its heavenly path, which explained the absence of the boy’s father. Running with youths of his own age, the fair-haired son of the Graf von Krolock still stood apart from the throng.
His golden hair was as fair as it had been in infancy, and his every gesture and motion was used with the intention of drawing all eyes to him. Every smile seemed to be a token for those around him, his charm undeniable, even for one barely into his teenage years.
From the shadows of his own realm, Death watched the boy laugh, stripping off his fine clothing and bundling it with the garb of his companions, before racing for the lake, the sun and shade dappling across his tanned skin.
The half dozen teenagers splashed deeper and deeper into the green-tinted water, led by the striking mortal son of the vampire Lord. His boldness and arrogance seemed to spur them to recklessness.
He dived beneath the water and one by one, his companions followed, none wishing to be the one left behind.
In his unseen world, Death gestured slowly with one hand, changing the sight before him, and the world darkened as he looked up from the bottom of the lake. Though it was not as deep as some, it was still enough for an unprotected and reckless boy to drown in.
Around young von Krolock, his friends could neither dive as deeply nor swim as strongly and they surfaced. Apparently, he rose to chastise them, before plunging under the water again, diving downwards, deeper than before.
Death smiled, placing his hand against the invisible barrier that separated his world from the world of mortals, stepping through it, the chill water of the lake bed enveloping him. His clothing blended into white, his golden hair swirling in the eddies.
Above him, he could see the boy swimming fiercely onwards and he kicked off from the lake-bed, lazy strokes bringing him closer and closer to the boy. He saw the instant green-hued grey eyes saw him and the boy’s momentum halted, graceful arms turning clumsy as he gasped and thrashed, trying to right himself.
Floating mere feet from the boy, Death smiled, his shirt and hair billowing about him, his arms spread and his hands feet moving lazily to hold him steady.
Pressure tried to raise the boy towards the surface, but he fought it, staring at Death, his hands and feet thrashing over him to let him remain. One of those hands, washed eerily pale by the water-filtered light, stretched out towards Death, as if trying to touch a ghost.
With a kick of his feet, Death moved closer, catching the boy’s hand lightly and drawing him near. Though cooled by the water, the boy’s skin was still warm and his other hand grasped at Death’s shoulder, his own hair swelling and rising about his young face, caught in the currents.
His grey eyes seemed utterly mesmerised and Death smiled. His other hand sank into the boy’s hair and he brought the boy’s mouth hard against his own, drawing the air from him, and expecting him to struggle.
What he did not expect was for the boy to clutch at him and to part his lips willingly.
Nor did he expect himself to respond, kissing the boy mercilessly, savagely, ravishing his mouth until he felt the boy shiver and go limp in his arms, his air spent. Unleashing him, he watched the boy’s body slowly start to rise, waiting for the lingering flicker of a soul parting the ways from its mortal shell.
From above there was a flurry of commotion and he drew his darkness about him, cursing under his breath at the sight of the boy’s friends diving. They grabbed the youth’s body by his arms and pulled him back towards the surface, away from Death’s grasp.
Slipping back into the shadows of his realm, Death altered the world about him once more, watching the land as the boy’s body was dragged from the lake, his frantic friends trying to shake life back into him, slapping him and pressing their hands against his chest.
Their efforts seemed sufficient and he gagged, choking and rolling onto his side, coughing up water, colour flooding his face, then he sagged against the shale of the lakeside and fell into a faint.
Death watched as the boy was gathered up and the group of teenagers bore him back to his father’s castle.
As night fell, he followed the path they had taken, slipping unseen and unnoticed into the castle and emerging from his shadowy world. Invisible to the eyes of the living, he moved through the halls, following the weak thread of life that still held so fast despite his attempts.
Like mist, he swept through the door into the room where the boy lay.
Pale against the pillows, his hair fanning about him, his slim hands resting on the dark covers, he was still lost in unconsciousness. By the bed, his father sat in the attitude of a mortal father, his features fraught with concern, though his flesh was paler than his son’s and he no longer breathed.
Death approached and he saw the vampire sit up, straightening his back, his already drawn expression tensing. Though his head did not move, his dark eyes roamed the silent room until they touched the spot where Death yet concealed himself.
“Have you not done enough?”
Merging out of nothing, Death smiled. “Your son’s recklessness is not my doing, Herr Vampire,” he murmured, folding his arms over his chest and gazing down at the boy. “Nor is his mortal weakness.”
“His time is not come.” Von Krolock rose from the bedside, placing himself between his son and Death. In the black depths of his almost human eyes, there was the gleam of demonic malevolence. “You have no place here.”
Death smiled showing all his teeth and laughed. “Not yet,” he corrected.
The growl belied the human façade that the noble Graf wore. “Leave this place.”
Ignoring him, Death shifted planes and stepped through the vampire’s body. He sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning over the boy. “Your words have no power over me, your Excellency,” he murmured as he brushed a strand of the boy’s hair back with a fingertip, the gesture so gentle and tender, it almost belied the mocking smile on his lips.
The Graf tried to grasp at him, but his hand passed through Death’s shoulder as if it were smoke, unable to stop Death touching his son’s still face, nor able to pull him back when Death touched his lips against Herbert’s with a pleasant sigh.
Grey eyes flickered open, blinking, and pale lips parted in a quiet gasp beneath Death’s.
“Herbert!”
Death was left reeling as the Graf somehow managed to snare his shoulder, his steely grip throwing Death backwards, stumbling. It should not have been possible, but he could see the lingering traces of darker magic around the Graf as he gathered his son in his arms.
Over the Graf’s shoulder, he saw unfocussed grey eyes look at him and bowed his head, fading out of sight without another word.
RATING: G
FANDOMS: Taniec Vampirow/Elisabeth
CHAPTERS: Prelude, Nocturne, this chapter and Elegy
SUMMARY: Death continues to watch over the von Krolock clan.
PAIRINGS: IMplications of Death/Herbert
WORDS: 1211
NOTES: This is chapter 3 in the Dance of Death series and I have to say I adore the imagery of this chapter something awful :D This is the last chapter pre-Herbert-turning, which means we're into sequence from here on in.
_________________________
It was a beautiful day, the skies clear and blue, the sun scorching brightly across its heavenly path, which explained the absence of the boy’s father. Running with youths of his own age, the fair-haired son of the Graf von Krolock still stood apart from the throng.
His golden hair was as fair as it had been in infancy, and his every gesture and motion was used with the intention of drawing all eyes to him. Every smile seemed to be a token for those around him, his charm undeniable, even for one barely into his teenage years.
From the shadows of his own realm, Death watched the boy laugh, stripping off his fine clothing and bundling it with the garb of his companions, before racing for the lake, the sun and shade dappling across his tanned skin.
The half dozen teenagers splashed deeper and deeper into the green-tinted water, led by the striking mortal son of the vampire Lord. His boldness and arrogance seemed to spur them to recklessness.
He dived beneath the water and one by one, his companions followed, none wishing to be the one left behind.
In his unseen world, Death gestured slowly with one hand, changing the sight before him, and the world darkened as he looked up from the bottom of the lake. Though it was not as deep as some, it was still enough for an unprotected and reckless boy to drown in.
Around young von Krolock, his friends could neither dive as deeply nor swim as strongly and they surfaced. Apparently, he rose to chastise them, before plunging under the water again, diving downwards, deeper than before.
Death smiled, placing his hand against the invisible barrier that separated his world from the world of mortals, stepping through it, the chill water of the lake bed enveloping him. His clothing blended into white, his golden hair swirling in the eddies.
Above him, he could see the boy swimming fiercely onwards and he kicked off from the lake-bed, lazy strokes bringing him closer and closer to the boy. He saw the instant green-hued grey eyes saw him and the boy’s momentum halted, graceful arms turning clumsy as he gasped and thrashed, trying to right himself.
Floating mere feet from the boy, Death smiled, his shirt and hair billowing about him, his arms spread and his hands feet moving lazily to hold him steady.
Pressure tried to raise the boy towards the surface, but he fought it, staring at Death, his hands and feet thrashing over him to let him remain. One of those hands, washed eerily pale by the water-filtered light, stretched out towards Death, as if trying to touch a ghost.
With a kick of his feet, Death moved closer, catching the boy’s hand lightly and drawing him near. Though cooled by the water, the boy’s skin was still warm and his other hand grasped at Death’s shoulder, his own hair swelling and rising about his young face, caught in the currents.
His grey eyes seemed utterly mesmerised and Death smiled. His other hand sank into the boy’s hair and he brought the boy’s mouth hard against his own, drawing the air from him, and expecting him to struggle.
What he did not expect was for the boy to clutch at him and to part his lips willingly.
Nor did he expect himself to respond, kissing the boy mercilessly, savagely, ravishing his mouth until he felt the boy shiver and go limp in his arms, his air spent. Unleashing him, he watched the boy’s body slowly start to rise, waiting for the lingering flicker of a soul parting the ways from its mortal shell.
From above there was a flurry of commotion and he drew his darkness about him, cursing under his breath at the sight of the boy’s friends diving. They grabbed the youth’s body by his arms and pulled him back towards the surface, away from Death’s grasp.
Slipping back into the shadows of his realm, Death altered the world about him once more, watching the land as the boy’s body was dragged from the lake, his frantic friends trying to shake life back into him, slapping him and pressing their hands against his chest.
Their efforts seemed sufficient and he gagged, choking and rolling onto his side, coughing up water, colour flooding his face, then he sagged against the shale of the lakeside and fell into a faint.
Death watched as the boy was gathered up and the group of teenagers bore him back to his father’s castle.
As night fell, he followed the path they had taken, slipping unseen and unnoticed into the castle and emerging from his shadowy world. Invisible to the eyes of the living, he moved through the halls, following the weak thread of life that still held so fast despite his attempts.
Like mist, he swept through the door into the room where the boy lay.
Pale against the pillows, his hair fanning about him, his slim hands resting on the dark covers, he was still lost in unconsciousness. By the bed, his father sat in the attitude of a mortal father, his features fraught with concern, though his flesh was paler than his son’s and he no longer breathed.
Death approached and he saw the vampire sit up, straightening his back, his already drawn expression tensing. Though his head did not move, his dark eyes roamed the silent room until they touched the spot where Death yet concealed himself.
“Have you not done enough?”
Merging out of nothing, Death smiled. “Your son’s recklessness is not my doing, Herr Vampire,” he murmured, folding his arms over his chest and gazing down at the boy. “Nor is his mortal weakness.”
“His time is not come.” Von Krolock rose from the bedside, placing himself between his son and Death. In the black depths of his almost human eyes, there was the gleam of demonic malevolence. “You have no place here.”
Death smiled showing all his teeth and laughed. “Not yet,” he corrected.
The growl belied the human façade that the noble Graf wore. “Leave this place.”
Ignoring him, Death shifted planes and stepped through the vampire’s body. He sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning over the boy. “Your words have no power over me, your Excellency,” he murmured as he brushed a strand of the boy’s hair back with a fingertip, the gesture so gentle and tender, it almost belied the mocking smile on his lips.
The Graf tried to grasp at him, but his hand passed through Death’s shoulder as if it were smoke, unable to stop Death touching his son’s still face, nor able to pull him back when Death touched his lips against Herbert’s with a pleasant sigh.
Grey eyes flickered open, blinking, and pale lips parted in a quiet gasp beneath Death’s.
“Herbert!”
Death was left reeling as the Graf somehow managed to snare his shoulder, his steely grip throwing Death backwards, stumbling. It should not have been possible, but he could see the lingering traces of darker magic around the Graf as he gathered his son in his arms.
Over the Graf’s shoulder, he saw unfocussed grey eyes look at him and bowed his head, fading out of sight without another word.