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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!
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.
good blood you mean c:
he pulls the window open. behind him, his house is all lovely wood and chrome, a sleek modern style very different from the tall, funny crowded brick home he'd built with the boys in eudio. which stands to reason. his recent taste in roommates is different too: there's the sound of a woman padding around through the further reaches of the building.
it might be rude to get turned into a vampire while your roommate is home, but kavinsky's manners were always awful.] Sup, mom, [he says. he kisses rafa on the cheek and holds his arm. the room smells more like cigarettes and tequila than he does. the bed is unmade, the television leaning precariously backward on the wall, flickering with inscrutable images.]
Night is young, huh?
Re: good blood you mean c:
[ Rafa slides into the room on Kavinsky's arm. At once, he winds his own arms around his fledgling, and returns that little cheek kiss. He knows this boy, and suspects there's a whirling cloud of emotions dampening his spirits right now. By contrast, Rafa feels elated. His family is about to expand again, and he wants to celebrate that. His nose brushes the sweep of Kavinsky's jaw before he lifts his head, close enough to kiss and wanting to. ]
Young and made for monsters. I want to take you out in it. We have hours stretching before the sun returns. I want to be with you when you see the stars.
[ Kavinsky has seen them before, of course. He's even seen them with a vampire's eyes. This won't be new. Still, the thought delights Rafa. He glances around the room, taking in the television and the bed, and the scent of a mortal girl not far away.
Briefly, Rafa wonders if she's aware of the danger he's about to put her in. Living humans with beating hearts are strong temptation for new vampires.
It's a brief concern. Really, it's Kavinsky's experience he cares about. ]
Is this where you want to do it? I imagined more romance, but it is your choice, of course.
no subject
but also joseph kavinsky lived in eudio for almost two years, learned a lot, and there is a critical factor at hand too: that he loves rafaello himself. there's a suspended instant in time, where he regards the vampire, his jaw set, some stupid insult on the tip of his tongue, his eyebrows sullen on his pretty baby face—
and then he sniffs, stepping back. leans his shoulder on the wall.] Where do you wanna go? [he asks instead, his voice still brittle with personal angst!! but his stare receptive enough anyways. tonight means something more than just escape and distraction. he knows, he knows.] Where'd your great-great-great uncle or whatever take you when he turned you?
no subject
To his gilded palace and halls, past his throne room and to his bedroom. Everything was expensive. Golds and reds and silks and velvets. I imagine he thought it romantic. He had made my mortal life austere. Wealth was a reward.
[ And a not very subtle reinforcement of the idea that a vampiric life was far superior to anything mortality could offer. Rafa had in fairness learned that lesson already, and he's never fully let it go. Not even now.
But these days, he's a different man. He views his father differently, and views his methods differently as a result. He's not going to take Kavinsky to a palace. He wants something more real. ]
I want to take you somewhere open. Somewhere we can run when it is done, and then hunt. Perhaps the forest, again. Or the beach and then the forest. We could watch the moon rising over the sea. What do you think? I brought supplies.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
—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.]
no subject
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.
cw c-word
[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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
eeeeeeeeeee the motherland (some pun intended)
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]