Fabien did not know where he meant to go, but he knew he must climb, high as he could until he stood stationary upon smooth slats of the Tether’s roof. He climbed with such hungry purpose, arms as strong and as limber as a wild cat, but his tail a sodden rag that slipped lifelessly behind him. Without the stripes that coiled about his torso, he was all sickly gleaming ashen skin which welcomed the soothing caress of the damp air.
When his fire had sufficiently died, the youth had no recollection of his reasoning for being here, of why he had sought this location so desperately. He stood with spine just a little bowed, his chest heaving despite his rejuvenated strength, and his palms frustrated fists that sought to gore holes into his hips. He remained there perhaps an hour or so, enough to let the air knit the angry sores about his throat. And then it was time to leave, to return home.
And so the omen slipped back into the vampire’s darkness, opening the door so its hinges swung as soft as a sigh. Once inside, he immediately forced his weight firm into the door, his palms flat against the tortured wood as though they were consumed with indecision. He silently scanned the thick blackness, the dull brilliance of his eyes casting a frail light desperate to locate shapes in the gloom. But he told himself hadn’t been gone long, not enough to warrant the bat’s displeasure should he already lurk there.
Sighting nothing immediately, Fabien launched forward in agitation. Eventually he found the wall farthest from the door, and fell against it as though he hoped it might morph into mirror glass and encase him. He turned sharply and ground his bare spine against the dark surface, interrupting the silence of the room with the erratic chatter of his teeth as upper and lower jaws vibrated violently against each other.
“Calmez-vous, calmez,” the boy whispered hoarsely, trying to quell the oncoming storm of trembling that threatened to overwhelm him.
The omen exhaled in a deep, shuddering breath, and arched his neck until the back of his skull met the wall. Damp spirals of rain drenched hair were stretched about his cheeks, and clung to the panting curve of his lips. Fragments of freshly formed memories threatened to interrupt his thoughts. Of tonight, of his hands strong and firm as they sought to extract fear and horror from eyes that felt so strangely familiar to him.
“Pas plus,” he hissed as he lifted one hand, and the dagger-like points of his fingers seared aggressively through his scalp.
His eyes burned through the black expanse of the room. They burned into the far wall, where he thought the door to be, even if he could not see it. And he kept them there, their smouldering brightness illuminating his features as he looked on, and waited.
Last edited by Fabien on Sun Jan 24, 2016 6:14 am; edited 1 time in total