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Nicholi

Forbidden Darkness (VelvetApathy)

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Nicholi

Name: Nicholi

Age: 20

Location: graveyard

Appearance: ice blue eyes that can change depending on his mood. Long black hair. (Dark haired man in the picture)

Race: newly turned vampire.

History: his maker left him to die, only because he is afraid of the boys dark gift. Calling it the death of the vampyre race.

 

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Forbidden Darkness

 

Nicholi's life had been rough before he had been turned into this creature of the night. But after he was turned he found himself living in a nightmare. Being tortured every waking moment by his Sire. His Sire's voice echoing in his mind, reminders of what happened and what was to happen in his life. -They will kill you, they will hunt you down like the worthless creature you are and drain you dead.- He was slowly beginning to believe the words of that bastered. Being thrown out on his own to more than likely die.

 

How could a Sire treat their youngling in such a harsh way if they hadnt wanted one in the first place. Maybe it had something to do with his dark gift. The possession of fire was rare in deed and very hard to control. Was it because he had harmed his Sire with his gift of fire? Maybe the man feared the boy now. But he doubted he would ever know the true answer to that question.

 

It had been three nights since he had been turned, his gaze lifting to the night sky. He was unknowingly on another Vampires territory. He had wandered all over this cemetery, knew ever rock and crevase. But he found himself in the willow tree in the middle. The only thing giving his hiding place away... A blood red tear that sparkled in the moonlight.

 

Alone... what did he do to deserve this?

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VelvetApathy

"In the beginning. . . In the beginning - it was dark."

Wasn't that how most creation myths started? It was dark and it was cold - until whichever deity pleased the masses came and made it warm and bright and good. Abaddon's second life had begun in much the same way that the time honored myths had. Dark. Cold.

Except this wasn't a fairytale - and there was nothing and no-one that could make his life bright and warm ever again. Abaddon exhaled into the rich, cold night air around the cemetery. It was a lovely cemetery - or as lovely as a place of death could ever be. It was peaceful and the many flowers that were placed on the gravestones gave him comfort. It meant people were visiting - that the dead were not forgotten.

"From dust you were made, and to dust you shall return."

Abaddon's voice rang with the clarity of a small bell - soft, but entirely too sharp. It was his scorn for God and Mankind and Creation that made his syllables like icicles.

Just then - the red haired vampire heard and smelt and sensed someone who wasn't exactly a someone in human terms - and definitely shouldn't be here. Especially with himself so close by.

"Dumb move, new-blood." Abaddon murmured to himself as he zeroed in on what could only be a fledgling vampire. Everyone else knew to either check with him before entering his territory, or to stay well, well away.

It looked as though tonight would end up being a long night.

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Nicholi

Nicholi stilled at the noise in the cemetery, it was to late in the night for human's to be wandering the area. Lifting his gaze to look through the long vines of the tree he was hiding in. Yet, it was when he noticed some man in the area that he began to dig himself deeper within the shadows of the tree in order to hide himself away. Just by looking at this man, he could tell (Even though he was still just a newly turned fledgling) that this man was not just human. Biting his lower lip harshly, silently wishing he knew how to cloak himself better from the other vampires that may want to so harm to him.

 

His foot slipped... He was not quick enough to grab ahold of the branch as he slipped out of the tree and fell onto the ground with a loud groan. The air had been knocked out of him. If a human had seen his fall, they would of said he was dead. Or at least had broken something. It had taken a few moments before a rush of air found his lungs, one could say he was very clumsy. But an older more experienced Vampire would be able to see that this boy's Sire has blocked a lot of the boys abilities and left him with only a few. As if to torture the young vampire.

 

Once able to move again, he backed himself away trying to get into the shadows or somewhere dark enough so he would not be found. Or that is what he was hoping anyways.

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VelvetApathy

Shadows? Shadows were not a place to hide - at least, not from Abaddon. His "Dark" Gift was ironically one that manipulated darkness. Specifically: shadows.

Also, he was being -

"Noisy enough to wake the dead of this cemetery, fledgling. If you're going to rudely encroach upon my land - I suggest you do so quietly, at least." Abaddon's voice was stern as he approached the younger vampire in quick steps and stopped only inches from where he was standing.

Decisions, decisions. Abaddon could rightly kill the young little thing and probably no one would bat an eyelash. He was new and obviously a little frightened, and for some reason - most of his powers were cut off from him.

That was precisely what was so very curious, though. What Sire would cut off their beloved fledgling from their powers? It was strange and wrong and did not sit well with Abaddon at all.

The elder vampire's green eyes glinted in what little light there was as he asked "And to what name do you respond, youngling? You who seems so lost and forgotten?"

'He's a pretty thing, to be sure', Abaddon thought as he appraised the trespasser. Pale, of course - his skin was just as delicate looking as his impeccable bone structure. His eyes were the color of crystallized icicles, his hair that of a raven's. The elder vampire felt the beginnings of lust form as he took in the fledgling's looks and scent. It had been far too long since he had last indulged.

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Nicholi

Nicholi tear filled gaze lifted toward the man as he was corner in the shadows. Thoughts of him fixing to die flooded his mind as he trembled unable to back any farther into the shadows as his back was up against the high wall that surrounded the cemetery. "P-Please..." he whimpered out as he slid down the wall to the ground. His body trembling visibly, he did not want to die. But his Sire surely seemed like he wanted to boy dead.A long moment of silence as he grew even more terrified.

 

""And to what name do you respond, youngling? You who seems so lost and forgotten?"

 

His gaze lifted to the man's words. "N-Nicholi" He whimpered out forcing himself to use his voice. But it was in that moment his eyes flashed to a dark red color as he forced his gaze to the ground. He was starving, the pains of hunger raging though his body. Feeding off of animals had its disadvantages where it left him weak and hunger more often. But he did what he could only do... feed off of the animals he could catch. Biting back a groan as another roll of hunger ran though him, yet he clinched his stomach a little in discomfort.

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VelvetApathy

"Ni-cho-li. How precious. I was almost expecting you to have one of those ridiculous new-age names that have five "x's" and a "q" in them."

Abaddon's voice was drier than the Egyptian desert, but one could still tell he was joking. He was in a surprisingly good mood. The tedium of the night had been broken by this lost and beautiful boy, and now he finally had something to focus on besides his own bitter despair.

There was nothing worse than being bored for a literally indefinite amount of time.

Then again, he supposed there were worse things. Abbadon had felt the agony of hunger only in passing - he kept himself far too well fed for it to trouble him often. There were times, however - when circumstances had gotten in the way of him feeding on humans or even feeding at all. The sheer pain that resulted from going without was not something he would soon forget.

"Hungry? Doesn't it hurt? The burn in your throat, the parched feeling of your skin - it's pure agony, isn't it? The need to be filled with life is a powerful thing, fledgling. I would suggest you don't deny yourself of it - but you seem to have had little choice in the matter."

All this was said as Abaddon produced a knife from his pocket and gently brought it across his own wrist. When red welled out in a beautiful surge of heat - the elder offered it to Nicholi.

Maybe it was whim - maybe something else. Maybe Abaddon saw a bit of himself in Nicholi - or at least how Abaddon had once been. Innocent and frail. Almost pure. Whatever the reason - this blood meant more than just feeding the younger vampire. It would forge a bond, and not one that was easily broken.

He pressed his wrist to Nicholi's, painting the lips with that shade that came only from blood. From life.

"Go on. Taste it. It won't be like anything you can get in animal blood - and the intimacy of drinking from me will be a lot to handle. You really haven't much choice though - you're weak and so hungry it's hurting you. Go on, little one - drink.

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Nicholi

Nicholi shifted a little at the tone, fear and hunger gripped at him to the point that he felt delirious. Unable to move to far from his spot on the ground, he trembled both from his hunger and his weakness. His dark red eyes lifted to the man, confusion clearly on his face as the man moved closer to him. Words the man spoke reached his ears, he knew he needed to feed. But at this moment he was to weak from hunger to do so.

 

Though Nicholi had only been turned not a few night ago, Even he could tell just by the way this man acted that he was much older than he appeared. Tears welled up into his eyes as another roll of pain surged through him as he fought not to whimper out in that pain. Yet, he did not know anything about bonds... let alone blood bonds between vampires. All he knew is that his Sire's voice stayed in his mind and told him things that he was starting to believe. But that evil man's words that were whispered into his mind were nothing but lies.

 

Nicholi's dark gaze snapped to the man as he seen the flash of a knife and then the man's wrist being cut open. That is when he had almost tried to move away from the man that had moved closer to him. Yet, it was when his lips were painted with the elder's blood that he found himself unable to refuse the offering. A soft whimper left his lips as his cool breath would move over the wound before he weakly latched onto the wrist. Had it been the way the man had said the words, or had it been just the blood itself that caused him to even consider feeding from this man?

 

Weakly feeding from the man as he closed his eyes that were full of nothing but pain. It had not lasted very long before a dark voice could be heard within his mind. -He will kill you... The more you drink from him... The easier it will be for him to find you and drink you dry.- The voice of his Sire that would never leave him alone. It caused him to quickly unlatch himself from the man and tried to back himself away. But it was when the mans blood started to take affect in him that he stilled and trembled in his spot. What was happening to him? Confusion played out on his face as he stared at the man trying to figure out what was causing these emotions to wreck havoc on him.

 

But it was when all those emotions clashed together that his body engulfed into flames. Surrounding him, yet not burning him. It was the perfect form of protection, but being so young he did not have the power to control great amounts of this dark gift. When those flames began to become out of control, that is when he whimpered out the words. "help me... please..." His voice was barely a thread of voice laced with pain and suffering.

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VelvetApathy

Fire.

It was heat and it was warmth and it was light and it was life. It seemed almost the living manifestation of everything that humans craved, and loved.

Which was probably why it hurt vampires so very much.

Whatever in the world had sparked this little turn of events? It was almost irritating - except for the fact that Abaddon rarely let anything truly irritate him - and that it was so interesting that he couldn't find it in himself to be mad. Things were starting to click into place: the reason the boy was sireless, the reason his powers had been sealed. All because of a little heat.

Abaddon found he wasn't nearly as afraid of fire as the others of his kind. Perhaps it was because he was unafraid (or at least bored with the idea) of death. Perhaps it was because the heat reminded him of things with a poignant kind of nostalgia.

As it was his eyes only widened in slight alarm as he backed away from the fledgling.

Why had Nicholi become so afraid just by drinking from him? Abaddon was aware it was an intense experience - but something told him that it was not the feeding itself that had scared the youngling. Something else was at work here. . .

Help me. . . please. . .

Abaddon was snapped out of his reverie as the words found his ears. They were pain filled words - filled with suffering one so young should never know. The elder vampire felt emotions that hadn't been there for years suddenly move through him. Whether it was just a side effect of the partial blood bond, or (Gods forbid) true affection for Nicholi - Abaddon knew that for once he couldn't just leave, couldn't just remain impassive.

Someone needed him.

"Little one - Nicholi? Can you hear me? You must tame your power before it consumes you and this place. I want you to listen to me and do exactly as I say, understand? I want you to imagine your power, your Dark Gift. I want you to imagine it as a storm inside of you - free and full of life. Now, I want you to gather the storm. I want you to imagine it slowly curling into itself, until it's tiny - until it can't hurt anyone. Now I want you to take that tiny ball of power in your hand. Can you do that? Just imagine it as a little glass ball full of your own power. It's a safe glass ball - it can't hurt you or anyone else. Now grasp it in your hand and push it towards the ground - push it farther and farther away from yourself. Until it goes through the ground - until that tiny ball of power that can't hurt you anymore is buried deep. And you are safe."

Abaddon's words were calm, or at least as calm as they could be. He guided the new-blood through an old, old exercise to control one's power. Old, but effective.

Hopefully, Abaddon hadn't lost his touch.

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Nicholi

Moments ticked by as the man's words made it past the flames, and entered his mind. He was to frightened to even think of trying anything. But he had to... He had to try to learn. Calming himself was the hard part, defiantly when his sire always enjoyed causing him pain. Trembling in fear, but it was determination that shown on his face as his gaze stayed to the ground. Concentrating with all he had left in his energy, even he knew that afterward it was going to be painful.

 

The last time this had happened, he had caused his sire great pain. One could guess that is the very reason why he was left alone... to die or starve whichever came first.

 

The flames didn't seem to want to move at all as he tried to calm down enough to focus. Moments past by without any changes to the flames that surrounded him. Then all of a sudden, the flames flickered out and died down. Pain was etched over Nicholi's face, one could tell that this was not an easy task for a fledgling that had only been made not long ago. A tremble ran though his body, then his knee's hit the ground.

 

Crimson tears streamed down his face as pain radiated across his body, yet he was not burned nor scarred. It was the pain of over use of their dark gift. He was still to young to have to deal with that amount of power, and it was clear that he had trouble with trying to gain control of it. Dark red eyes lifted to the elder, every ounce of pain and suffering could be felt just from that one look in his eyes. "T-thank you..." His voice was horse, and he was left dangerously weakened.

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