| Saturday, February 18, 2006 Shadows of the Night 02/? |
 Title: Shadows of the NightChapter: Two Authors: Dragons of the Moon Contact: Apollymi and Katsuko The Greek boy had yet to speak. Well, he had yet to speak save for translating what the crew around them was saying. He'd awakened an hour after Malik had given him his own blood, and fed from both Egyptians before they headed to the docks (Bakura had threatened Malik's 'pet' with beheading if he dug his fangs in so long again, at which point the boy had withdrawn his teeth and fed properly). It was obvious that he understood what they were saying somehow, and when he'd begun quietly translating the words of the crew they knew that he was capable of speech; for whatever reason, though, he would not speak directly with either Bakura or Malik. This was somewhat worrisome to the elder netjer kem; if the boy continued to be silent towards them he may have no choice but to carry through with his earlier beheading threat. It was even more of a concern than the fact that they had very nearly wiped out the crew already with their need to feed so often, although that was a close second. There were only four men left, and still three of them. And while he'd shared kills with Malik before, their silent third may not be so willing to do thus. One human would not be enough to slake his hunger tonight, Bakura knew that well. It especially would not if they had to go another week without feeding. There would have to be no choice but for the boy to share in the last mortal, or the elder would not hesitate to throw him to the sea. It did not take long for the netjer kem to take three of the remaining men, throwing their corpses overboard from separate sections of the ship before stalking the final man - the captain himself. Bakura had hoped that they would last longer, perhaps be able to wait for another few days, but with three needing to feed rather than two that was no longer possible. "Bakura," Malik nearly whined, "my merwet ib still won't speak." "I know," the elder replied, watching as the blond slipped from shadow to shadow, keeping the last mortal in sight. "Perhaps soon." He did not say that he was contemplating destroying the xered netjer kem. That would serve no purpose other than to send Malik into a rage as he truly believed the Greek was the one prophesy had set aside for him. In little time they had cornered the captain of the ship at the helm. He looked at them with fear written clearly upon his face and shouted at them in that infantile tongue, brykolakas the only word Malik and Bakura even comprehended. "No," the Greek said softly; the captain appeared to understand his words even though both Egyptians did as well. Is he translating somehow? Bakura wondered, keeping his surprise hidden better than Malik, who was staring intently. Why is he talking when we should be attacking? The Greek xered ignored him, gaze locked on the mortal. "You have seen us in the light of day, yes? Then how could we be brykolakas?" He walked - glided almost - closer to the captain and held out a hand. "We are not damned, not brykolakas. We are as Artemis' wolves, yes?" The captain had stopped his cries when the fair netjer kem began speaking, and now he placed his own hand in the one held out to him. The Greek flashed a brief toothless smile before speaking again: "Artemis' wolves do not kill out of cruelty, but only to survive. It would be an honor, yes? To be the stag taken to feed the moon's wolves. To bear your throat to the alpha, your right arm to the beta and your left arm to the cub." To the Egyptians' amazement, as the Greek spoke his soft words the mortal calmly tilted his head back and offered both his arms. Bakura and Malik exchanged a confused look, snapping back to attention when they heard a soft laugh from the xered. He tilted his head slightly, offering up a shy smile. "We can feed now," he said softly. "He will not flee or fight." It was just past sunrise when the xered netjer kem came to them again. He'd only spoken that one moment before taking the mortal's left arm and sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist, and after the three had drained the man simply vanished back into the depths of the ship without a sound. Malik had wanted to follow, but Bakura held him back. "He will come in time," he had said, not really all that certain if the Greek's speaking to them even so briefly was a good sign. If he continued to shy away from them he would never really be one of them... and Bakura found himself wanting the fair child to be part of the small clan he was forming around him. So he saw it as a step in the right direction when he felt the presence at his left and turned to see dark eyes peering at him intently. "We are not brykolakas," he said in that same soft voice he'd spoken with before. "Then what are we?" "You called us the moon's wolves," Bakura reminded the boy, his tone bordering on amusement. "It's a nicer term than... whatever it is your people keep calling us." "Brykolakas. Damned. Drinkers of blood that are dead while Apollo rides across the sky but undead when Artemis does so." He frowned, gaze turning to the sun for a moment. "We are not dead, but Not Alive. What are we?" "In Egypt," Malik offered, "they call us netjer kem. Black gods. They forget that we have names," he added with a sad sigh. "My name is Malik." "I am Bakura," the elder stated with a nod. It was clear that he expected the Greek to offer up his own name next. He was not disappointed. "Kadmus," the boy said, still peering out over the waves. "Son of Hali and Nyx. Fitting now, really." Bakura frowned at the odd aside but figured he would ask about it later. "Why have you remained silent until now?" he asked instead, more curious as to the child's odd quiet. Kadmus turned his gaze back to Bakura. "It is best to learn by being silent, so as to listen more closely," he said. "Once I learned, being silent was no longer necessary. I am still confused as to how I can understand you, as I do not know the tongue you speak in; and I am confused as to how you understand me, as I believe myself to be speaking the tongue I have known all of seventeen springtimes." "Maybe it's some sort of... connection?" Malik asked, glancing to the eldest. "Like how you knew where I was hiding when we were Cursed and how we find each other after kills in large villages?" "Maybe," Bakura murmured with a nod. Even after half a century he still knew very little about the Curse on their blood. He hadn't even been certain if they could pass the... infection to others, yet Kadmus was Not Living proof that it was possible. He himself had the ability to become invisible, although Malik seemed not to share that talent. He suddenly frowned. "Kadmus, xered, how did you calm that mortal we fed on last night?" he demanded. The Greek turned his attention from the waves and blinked at Bakura. "I talked to him," he said simply, as if it were nothing at all. "I reached into his mind and smoothed away his fears, and suggested that he wanted to give his life so that we might continue our existence. That is all." "I can't do that," Malik noted with a pout. "Can you do that, Bakura?" "No," the eldest admitted. "That's a talent I don't possess." Perhaps, he mused as Kadmus returned his gaze to the ocean and Malik turned his eyes to Kadmus, the xered will prove to be a blessing to this abet after all. End Chapter Two xered - child Kadmus - Greek name meaning from the east Hali - Greek name meaning sea Nyx - Greek name meaning night abet - family
posted @ 11:58 AM
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| Friday, February 17, 2006 Shadows of the Night 01/? |
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Title: Shadows of the Night Chapter: One Authors: Dragons of the Moon Contact: Apollymi and Katsuko Anger. That was what Bakura felt most, the only thing he'd truly felt since Zork's Curse went into effect. Fifty years of being twenty-four, only a small number in what he knew for certain would be eternity. Fifty years since the Curse had poisoned his blood and ripped him from his beloved, he who was now Pharaoh, he who would age and die while he remained young until the end of time. If only it had been his beloved standing so close when the Nameless Pharaoh sacrificed his life to seal Zork away! But no; it had been the brother of the priestess, a man-child of sixteen winters, who had been caught by the backlash of the Curse that now coursed in both their veins. A man-child who would be as eternally on the brink of adulthood as he would remain eternally in the springtime of his life. He despised those who would age naturally, who would know sickness and age and blessed death. The Beautiful Afterlife was forever locked to Bakura and Malik, and that fact had sent them both into the rage that they took out on all in their path. They worked under cover of darkness, killing and destroying, and traveled during the daylight. Ra, it appeared, would not touch them; Bakura forever felt cold even in the harsh light of day. Several lands they'd raped in the course of half a century, with the name netjer kem following them. At least, until they left the sands of their homeland, driven out by those who protected Bakura's beloved who now sat on the throne. Another name found them upon the shores of Greece: brykolakas. What name they were called mattered little to Bakura; all he had left was his rage, and he unleashed it upon all the fragile humans in his path. This land was full of pale imitations of the people they'd left behind in Kehmet: fair hair, fair skin, fair eyes. They died, however, like everyone else--screaming and bleeding and begging for their lives in that strange tongue that he cared not to understand. But not this man-child before him. Fair hair, fair skin, dark eyes that would put any native child of Kehmet to shame. He was not screaming, he was not begging; his eyes peered at Bakura, almost through him, before sliding shut. This child accepted his fate and would not fight him. It was almost a pity, really; Bakura had become accustomed to his food putting up a struggle. He was somewhat surprised at how much sweeter the blood tasted when his victim was willing. He could hear the little signs of life slipping away as he fed for once without having to ignore the screams; a soft whimper was the only sound the boy had made before falling silent. Bakura could hear the child's heartbeat slowing, slowing so peacefully compared to other kills he'd made in nearly fifty years' time.... And then he was wrenched violently away from his meal, a snarl reaching his ears as his companion pulled the limp form into his own grasp. Bakura blinked silver eyes in amusement at Malik; the younger netjer kem did not share his mirth. "You're mean, Bakura," he growled. "I wanted him!" "There's still enough life in him for you to get a taste," the elder replied with a small shrug. "He's a willing kill. Sweeter than virgin's blood." Malik's expression darkened. "No! I want to keep him!" This... was a surprise. While Bakura knew that Malik was trapped between childhood and adulthood, until now he'd always acted in a manner more befitting an adult in his rage. This childish behaviour was completely against all he thought he'd known about his unwilling companion. "He's so cold now," the fair-haired Egyptian murmured, fingers ghosting almost delicately over the still-bleeding puncture wounds on the Greek's neck. "That's because he has little blood left in him," Bakura snapped impatiently. "He is dying. He would have died anyway had you kept him. You would most likely have grown bored with him and eaten him yourself." "I would not!" Malik replied just as sharply. "The oracles said that my merwet would be born when I was old and lie in a land far from home! I'm sixty-six winters and we've not seen Kehmet in twenty summers! This one is mine!" "He is dying," the elder said, tone gentling somewhat; he knew that the oracles spoke the truth more often than not. His own prophecy had said that he'd be forced from his own beloved's side and never again meet in this lifetime. "His blood will run out shortly." "Then we have to replace it with more," the younger insisted, lavender eyes pleading. "Replace it with stronger blood." Before Bakura could realize what Malik intended to do, the fair-haired netjer kem had torn his own wrist open with his sharp teeth and allowed a few drops to spill on the wounded neck. The elder was surprised to see the marks close over and heal, but the Greek's heartbeat continued to fade. "No," he murmured, stepping forward to help his companion. "The blood has to go inside him if you wish to replace it." As he spoke, he lightly took hold of the dying boy's chin. Malik blinked at the elder for a moment before moving his bleeding wrist to the now-open mouth. "Please, merwet ib," the younger near-whispered, "just drink a few drops for me." To Bakura, the plea was almost heartbreaking. Malik had only ever pleaded for anything one time since they were Cursed, and that was to be mortal again. That was a wish that would never be, and he felt that this was just another-- His thoughts abruptly halted when he realized that a few drops of Malik's blood had slipped past the Greek's lips; one moment the child was on the brink of death and the next he was latched onto the younger Egyptian's wrist. The boy's heartbeat picked up speed for a few moments, racing hard as he swallowed Malik's life into himself before slowing and then stopping. His head fell to one side, eyes still closed as they'd been when Bakura's first bitten him. Even without the beating of a heart, the elder could sense the slow breathing he associated with himself and his companion. "What happened?" Malik asked, fear entering his voice for the first time since that day in Kehmet. "He's not moving, Bakura. Did it work? Is he alive?" "We have to wait," Bakura said with a certainty that he didn't quite feel. "Wait and make sure that your blood takes to him. It might have worked, though. He breathes as you do, little one." "I don't remember sleeping," Malik noted, fingers absently combing through the boy's hair. "We didn't, did we? We were just... Not Alive, weren't we?" Bakura nodded. "We did not sleep because he Cursed us in an instant," the elder replied, his tone somewhat bitter for a moment before calming once more. "Your beloved has taken the Curse differently. His body needs to change; when he's awake again he'll be like we are." "What will he eat?" the younger worried. "We've drained the village; there is no one left for him to take from." "Then we feed him from us," Bakura decided. "A little from me, a little from you. Then we move on from here. Daylight isn't far off and I want to be on a ship by then." Malik frowned, head tilted to one side in confusion. "Why are we taking a ship, Bakura?" "Because it's time we were home. My people's souls have lingered long enough. "It's time to reclaim the Sennen Items." End Chapter One brykolakas - vampire (Greek) merwet - love, beloved ib - heart
posted @ 7:10 PM
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Shadows of the Night 00/? |
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Title: Shadows of the Night Chapter: Prologue Authors: Dragons of the Moon Contact: Apollymi and Katsuko They didn't often think about it, but the Egyptians knew in their hearts that they were the source. Rather, Zork was the source, but they were the first of the netjer kem and therefore the source of all the defective vampires that walked the earth. Not all of the later vampires were defective, so to say; only those whose blood was an uneven mixture of Zork's influence and the lost humanity were considered defects and no true netjer kem. The ones made early on, shortly after they were infected, were nearly perfect: the fair Greek youth Kadmus whom the younger of the Elders had demanded they keep with them (and their first experiment on whether they could pass along the infection) and the priest Shaada who they chose to protect Their Treasures. No, only Bakura and Malik were Perfect, the purest netjer kem, and their eldest children were as close to perfection as the later generations would ever get. Until Domino City. End Prologue netjer - god kem - black Basically, Bakura and Malik use the term that the people of Egypt called them by, the 'black gods' as I have yet to turn up an Arabic or Egyptian word for vampire.
posted @ 8:39 AM
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