xistentia | Bad Blood

Entry tags:

Bad Blood

Characters: Rafa and Kavinsky
Summary: Rafa makes a vampire out of Kavinsky.
Date(s): 19 August (evening)
Warnings/Notes: Blood, vampire biting/turning, bad language, sexual themes. Kavinsky in general. Proceed with caution!

Rafa waits until the sun dips behind the trees. He slides his sunglasses from his face and heads out, his path set. This has been coming for months; for years, even centuries, as far as he is concerned, but for months from Kavinsky's point of view. Rafa's blood feels hot with anticipation, with the knowledge of what he's about to do. He has been thinking of Kavinsky has his fledgling for quite some time, but until tonight, that has only been a name.

Now he will make it real.

He arrives in silence, as the evening darkens behind him. He doesn't knock at any door, but climbs the building to stop at Kavinsky's window. His tap of the glass should be expected; they'd planned this night, and this time. If anything, Rafa is slightly early.

Unusually for him, he carries a bag. Inside is a change of clothes, and several bottles of blood from the machine Kavinsky had given him. There's no better test for it than this; Kavinsky will need a lot of blood tonight, and all things being fair, Rafa will too. The clothes he's wearing are notably plain and loose on him, and in paler colours than he likes; he doesn't expect them to be wearable for much longer. His hair is pulled back for convenience. Perching comfortably at the window, he waits to be granted entry.

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[kavinsky raises one dark eyebrow, eloquent on his little white face. then he pauses significantly, and takes a slow look around his bedroom. he dreamed two extra stereos which are spilling their wire viscera across the floor there. there's a pile of dirty laundry building in one corner, where kavinsky is still coming to a decision about whether to burn it in a bin or attempt laundry.

there are empty liquor bottles everywhere, dirty cups. most of the pillows are on the floor, which might lead one to believe he produced new ones because he didn't feel like getting up.]

I don't see the problem, [he announces finally.] But cool. Let's do it. [he walks up to his tiny mother. places his arms neatly around the vampire's neck. and then, without any prompting, he abruptly jumps up with full expectation that rafaello is going to carry him princess style.] G'wan.

[ Rafa's answer is a grin, and of course he moves to automatically catch Kavinsky. This boy is light, and probably would be even if Rafa's strength wasn't supplemented by arcane forces. He leans in, nuzzling at Kavinsky's cheek before kissing it sweetly. ]

Good. You will want to hold on.

[ There's something just a little bit wicked about the way he says that. Kavinsky is after all still human, and they're not going to be doing any of this slowly. With his fledgling cradled, Rafa takes to the window again, and leaps directly from the sill to the ground. He lands, catlike, on his feet, with Kavinsky still held tight. Then he runs, and the wind will buffer against them and resist them, but ultimately let them pass.

Rafa doesn't bring a car. He's faster than most cars, even with a pile of Kavinsky in his arms, and he lets himself hit top speed now. People they happen to pass will feel them go, but likely won't see them; it will happen too fast for their eyes to track. In retrospect, Rafa probably should have told Kavinsky to close his.

Perhaps he'll work that out.

Regardless.

They hit the trees quickly. They are a distance inside the forest already before the smell of it, and the feel of it, will really hit them. Rafa slows down at this point, just enough to make sure no errant branches try to take his fledglings eyes out. When they're deep within it, and at any rate closer to the beach than the city, he slows to a normal run, and then eventually to a walk. Then he stops altogether, and peers curiously at his fledgling. ]

Would you like to rest? [ He is attempting to be thoughtful. He is also, notably,
not out of breath despite the distance they just covered and the speed they did it at.
He had in fact only taken another breath when he was ready to talk again. ] We can walk to the sand from here. It is not so very far.

[kavinsky doesn't figure out he should close his eyes until it's too late. no injury or anything, nothing morbid. but by the time they arrive on the beach, tiny grass fragments settling atop rafa's tawny feet, his corneas feel very dried out. like when you go outside in a frozen winter and have to blink extra because the surface fo your eyes is fucking freezing. it's not freezing now, though. it just takes him a minute, staring and grimacing and then--

—bursting out into a predictable laugh, crazy and bright. he half-climbs, half-falls out of rafa's arms, or would if rafaello weren't holding him as carefully as a mother with her baby. which he is. which they are. kavinsky's feet mush unevenly in the forest's thinning grass, and he doesn't let go of rafa once he has them under him. he casts a look around up and down the coastline, watching the dim light wink off the surface of the sea. it's so dark now, even with the moon peeping out of the clouds, but he knows it's only a matter of hours before it's as bright to him as daylight ever was.

maybe he should have spent more time thinking about the sun while he was in it, today. but he hadn't bothered.]

Fuck rest, [he says.] That was awesome. We can walk. I'm good to walk. Maybe I shoulda put on some cunting shoes, but I'm gonna be honest: I give negative thirty fucks. [he wraps his arm tighter around rafa's neck and starts to walk, too drunk to notice the bite of small stones and twigs under the soles of his feet.]

[ Kavinsky laughs, and Rafa laughs too. This is the side of the boy he's always adored; the thrill-seeking, the general lack of fucks given to polite society, to what's expected of him, to everything there is around them. Kavinsky has always been an oddball. He's not really like other people. That's what Rafa likes about him, and incidentally why he thinks he'll make a good vampire.

Well, that, and also the general air of violence.

He hooks his arm around his fledgling's waist, and gives them a steer towards the sea. He can see the glint of it in the distance, and taste the salt on the air. That scent always gives him a thrill. He gives Kavinsky a little squeeze. ]

Soon we will be on the beach and your feet will thank me. Did I tell you that I grew up beside the sea? I did not see it for years, did not know where the smells and the sounds came from, but it was there. I love it. It's fitting to turn you beside the sea. You should dream that dragon again. Put her here, where she'd have an ocean to play in.

[ No doubt all of Xistentia will thank him for putting notions of water dragons in Kavinsky's head. ]

You can choose the spot, by the way.

I don't think I can make her by myself, [says kavinsky, rubbing his eyes like a sleepy toddler, but only because they're dry.] Lynch helped me. I mean, this other Lynch I knew who was more okay with me being a giant fucking cunt. Well-- [there's a beat's pause. toddler acknowledges poor playground behavior.] Technically I blackmailed him into helping me dream her.

[toddler is a work-in-progress.]

Over there.

[kavinsky points to a spot by the water. trees and shade are a pleasant and romantic notion by day, but at night, out here, the exposure and the vastness of the sea, the naked expanse of the sand-- seems like a challenge worth courting. when you're a vampire, there's no need to hide, right? well, not from anything so long as you're under cover of the night.] We should do it over there. [the water's foaming up, a translucent skein ruffled with white bubbles.]

How the fuck did you live by the sea and not see it? You live in the attic or some shit?

[ If any part of that story of blackmail surprises Rafa, he doesn't show it. All things considered, it's far from the worst thing Kavinsky ever did to Ronan, and Rafa knows it. He's under no illusions that his chosen dreamer is some kind of angel. If he were, after all, he wouldn't make such a very good vampire. ]

The strangest thing is learning you have limits. [ He says, glancing up at Kavinsky. He hadn't been able to dream the dragon alone. ] I did not think it of you. That place is good.

[ The spot by the water, he means. He moves out to it, looking around and then sinking to his knees in the sand. He motions for Kavinsky to do likewise. At this point, Rafa gets rid of his own shoes, and pushes his toes into the sand. Leaning back, he closes his eyes. ]

Very good, in fact. You should take off your shirt.

[ In case it gets bloodied, he means. And then, after a moment's thought: ]

I lived in stone barracks, behind high walls. But the smells were still there, and the first time I saw the water, all I wanted to do was sail away on it. We cannot do that. But we can swim, after, if you like.

[kavinsky complies. compliance probably doesn't seem like a very kavinsky thing to do, generally, but sometimes if you're giving him what he wants, he won't be a complete bag of dicks about it.]

So this great-great-great-great granddaddy made you live like a monk by the sea you couldn't look at, [kavinsky says. his voice muffles just briefly in the middle when he pulls his shirt off his head, exposing skinny shoulders, a chest that isn't so hollow to look at anymore, thanks to rafaello's workout mandates and dick greyson's intervention. he hadn't lost all of it, despite his apocalypse and vex-related self-pities. there's still extra muscle to him, the healthy shape of his biceps, the firm cut of his tummy. of course, it'd helped to get off the cocaine, years ago now.]

It ever occur to you he was just a manipulative fuck? Like maybe-- you were missing out on something human. Something good about being human. [his shoes fwopp off. he huddles clumsily onto his knees, digging his feet into the sand.]

[ Rafa settles beside him, looking small in the sand. He sits side-on to the sea, so that it's not behind him and he can see it even while he's looking at Kavinsky. He takes off his jacket and then his own shirt, folding them neatly beside him. Beneath it, his frame is thin but well defined, covered with lean muscle and decorated with old scars. Kavinsky's body is cleaner by comparison; less scarred, though just as thin. Rafa's eyes rise to his face. ]

I believe that was the point. My father had little good to say about humans.

[ He'd seen them as walking meals with a short expiry date. Vampires', he'd considered, were above them. Ilario had been very careful about who he turned into one of his people. Rafa, on the other hand, turns the ones he wants; the ones he feels for, the ones he can't bear to lose. Originally, he'd agreed to this because Kavinsky had asked. Now, it's likely he'd offer it even if he hadn't been asked. His hand comes up to touch Kavinsky's cheek, feeling it warm and flush for perhaps the last time. ]

Humans are not so bad. It took me a while to learn, but there are some I would not let go. Are you ready to say goodbye to the sun?

Counter-argument. [kavinsky's breath feathers along the cup of the vampire's palm, warm and soft and as breakaby human as the rest of him, as easily destroyed as his skin would be to rafa's nails, his bones to rafa's fingers. but he looks at his 'mother' with the same easy, almost flippant familiarity as always— the kind that ilario no doubt would have found disrespectful, especially without the protections of eudio to fortify it.] Humans are fucking nightmares. Just so are vampires, werewolves, aliens, fairy fuckers. Everything else we got in the multiverse.

[he smiles, as if to say that it doesn't bother him. which is his oldest most favorite pretend, one he used to play right up until he'd light himself on fire and melodramatically die from poorly articulated angst that he never sought treatment for. but tonight is different.] Yeah, [he says. because vampirism is going to be the answer— for a lot of things. frailty, old age, illness. he doesn't disagree with ilario in the end— he's just come around to realizing, unlike granddaddy vampire, that sometimes you gotta be nice to the people you want to keep.

nicer. his pupils are uncannily huge, and he's been clean-- awhile.]

I'm ready to say good-bye and fuck-off to needing a lot of things.

[ Rafa nods. That's as sure an answer as any. He leans in, and as he does his fangs lengthen. His thumb slides in a trail from Kavinsky's jaw over his throat, stopping at the pulse point. ]

You will feel dizzy, and weak. Do not let it scare you. When you drink from me, you will start to feel hungry, and I do not want you to stop. Keep drinking, until you can take no more.

[ With that instruction given, he closes the rest of the space between them. It starts with a kiss, soft and loving, with a hint of pain because Rafa's fangs graze Kavinsky's lips. His arms move around him, drawing him close, and then he moves down towards his neck.

When his fangs pierce the skin, it's very gentle, like two needles sliding into the flesh. Blood rushes Rafa's tongue, making him groan, and flatten his body to Kavinsky's. He has bitten him before, but then he had taken no more than a pint - less than that, with individual bites. This time he drinks and keeps drinking, drawing from Kavinsky the way he has not drawn from anyone in a very long time. It will hurt more as it continues, but there will be less to do about it, because Kavinsky will also get weaker, and colder as the pain grows. Then pins and needles will come, and numbness will follow.

Soon darkness will creep on the edge of his vision. Rafa holds him securely, drinking deep, and bringing Kavinsky as close to death as he's been since the night of that fire. ]

[kavinsky doesn't mind at first. he doesn't usually mind kissing hot dudes! he also doesn't usually mind being bitten by vampires, although that's a somewhat more recent development. he doesn't mind the beach, he doesn't mind pain mixed with pleasure; he's always liked the night, the blue shade of darkness, the dim glint of the moon. maybe he should have learned to be afraid of it, at some point during his melodramatic youth, but fear was so omnipresent in his life, irrespective of time of day, that darkness didn't differentiate at all between danger and not.

his sleep cycle was pretty fucked. not as fucked as the nightmares he'd bring to life.

but he'd never dreamed of death itself, in part because his mortal imagination couldn't conceive of it. dying, sure. killing himself, the sweet promise of nothing. this is different. how cold his fingers suddenly feel, the sudden pang of panic in his chest, which has nothing to do with distrust of rafaello. it's pure biology, the neurochemistry of fight or flight. his fingers spasm, feet kicking through the sand involuntary. coarse grains hit rafa's arms, but the struggle is weak at best. certainly nothing that vampire strength and loving conviction can't handle.]

R--af.

[ Rafa's arms are a vice. Lightweight and small as he is, he's stronger than any human could be, even at their full strength, and Kavinsky has been weakened considerably. He keeps him still, and ignores the hands scrabbling at his arms and the feet kicking up a fuss in the sand.

His lips detach, and he looks at the boy in his arms. If he waited, Kavinsky would die now. He'll feel it tugging at him; the dark and the cold, pulling him down. ]

It will be all right. Trust me.

[ He touches his fingers to Kavinsky's cheek. Then he sinks his fangs into his own wrist, pulling so that it creates a tear. Cradling Kavinsky's head, he brings the wound to his lips. The moment he tastes Rafa's blood, his body will find a new instinct, and a new hunger. ]

Drink it all. Don't stop, until there is no more to take. Quickly now.

[kavinsky feels weak. not in the emotional, sunken, fucked up soul-broken way that he remembers feeling in life, the first time he died, all of the other times when he wanted to. that weakness had been quailing and lividly hot, the toxic womb from which he birthed evil dragons, in a truer sense than most of the mom jokes he's ever made about rafaello. he'd been so afraid. he'd given into that fear.

but this goes deeper somehow, is worse, because he doesn't want to give him but the uncertainty grips him if he can escape it. spines of freezing cold in the core of him, his fingers stupid, his tongue thick and furred like a dead maggot that's beginning to turn. his eyes keep closing, and he barely feels rafa's hands on his face. but the blood is familiar to him— the old pull of addiction, combined with the sluggish twitch of panic.

he seals his lips over the wound and begins to suck. thee's some shitty stupid sex metaphor in here somewhere, but for once kavinsky isn't thinking of it. he only wants to live. badly, more intensely, than he ever has before in his life.]

[ Rafa's arms wrap tightly around Kavinsky, holding him in place until the exchange takes hold. His new fledgling will quickly find his strength returning, and growing as he drinks from Rafa. The more he drinks, the stronger he'll get; he'll feel a new kind of energy surging through his limbs. It's not exactly heat – it's almost electric, as though he's an empty battery charging in a socket. The cold in his limbs will never go away, though human bodies will bring temporary warmth, and human blood even more so. But the cold will stop mattering. It won't feel like death anymore, and any sense of numbness will disappear.

For Rafa, the opposite feeling occurs. He loses energy as quickly as Kavinsky gains it. The strength leaves his limbs, and soon he will no longer be holding Kavinsky. Kavinsky will be holding him instead, and it will be up to his new fledgling to keep this process going, to keep them locked together and draw what he needs from Rafa's weakening body.

This is why Rafa turns people rarely. The act leaves him vulnerable and weak, while the new fledgling becomes stronger than they have ever been. It's a dangerous thing to do, requiring trust between both of them. His head sags onto Kavinsky's shoulder, and his fingers lose their grip, his hands falling away.

Once Rafa is drained of blood, Kavinsky will feel the change start to take hold in his body. New colours and sharpness will explode into his vision. His teeth will sharpen and lengthen, thirst will start in his throat, and his heart will beat its last. That's the final thing to happen, the last gasp of his body trying to hold to its humanity. But he will be strong, and he will be a vampire at last. How long it takes varies with each person, but it won't take long. There's no turning back now. ]

[the transition of strength would be strange for another to watch, like seeing an amoeba enclose its psuedopods around an organism its equal size, or a leach drain a plastic bag of blood. rafaello begins to droop, almost deflate, falling against his fledgling, and kavinsky tucks his arms in close and begins to rise in equal proportion. sitting upright, his spiky head bent over the brown length of the vampire's neck.

his heartbeat doesn't quicken. maybe it never will again. but everything else about him does, a wellness that goes beyond sweet pills and strong coffee, filling his fingers and his muscles with a white-bright jump and skitter that he contains, somehow, without fidgeting at all. he doesn't notice the moment he stops needing to breathe. but he notices after long minutes that he no longer needs to come up for air, through the bloody draft he's sucking out of rafaello's throat.]

Oh shit.

[the gasp is aesthetic, more than anything. respiration is a trick. even the noise of his own breath, chambered inside his lungs, is bizarrely loud. but it tastes like triumph. and it speaks to the depth of his gratitude, uncharacteristic but true, that rafa is the next thing his eyes find in the dark.] Oh shit. Raf. Yo. D'Este. Mom? [tony fingers gather the tip of rafa's chin, rocking his head so that kavinsky can try to look into his eyes.]

[ Rafa's head lifts only when it's lifted. His eyes are half-closed, but he makes the effort to flick them open, and then he smiles at his new fledgling. His hand moves to stroke his jaw, and he's aware of Kavinsky's skin now feeling no warmer than his own. ]

There you are.

[ Rafa laughs, and lets his head drop back to Kavinsky's shoulder. ]

I will live. I need blood, and quickly. And I expect you would like that, no? You would like to hunt?

[ His eyes turn to the forest behind them, at the edge of the beach. ]

It is full of what we need. Humans taste better, but...we use what we have.

[and this time

for the first time, if perhaps not the last, it's kavinsky who stands up. and kavinsky who bears his sire in his arms, light as a feather, courteous and gentle, the power of a reborn predator rolling easy through his skinny limbs. a prince and his fainting prize. it'd be an easy mistake to make, glimpsing them in the dark from far away over the pearlescent strip of beach.

he'd like to hunt. but he stoops his head first. his hair, undone by wind and velocity, brushes rafa's forehead. he kisses the vampire on the mouth, like some absurd movie filmed under starlight.]

Hey, mom, [he says, in a rare stroke of insight.] It's your turn now. It's your turn with what you'd like and anything you need.

[and it's rare too. that he says it and means it. that he's honest.]

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Bad Blood

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cw c-word

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eeeeeeeeeee the motherland (some pun intended)

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