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fellowshippers2004-07-16 01:45 pm
konishi-zen.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-07-16 01:45 pm
(FIC) Crushed Rubies 9/12
Hey ya! It's been a loong time in coming due to writer's block, work and a big move (nice flat, lots of TREES) so here's Part Nine of Crushed Rubies.
Author: konishi_zen , Author turned beta elouisa (muchos thanks babe)
Other notes in the Cut along with the Fic
Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't sue. I own nothing except a couple of anime posters and a weezer cd and no you can't have them.
Warning: Blood, Violence, angst.
Pairings: Monaboyd main, several other pairings throughout.
Previous Chapters can be found in my lj memories and Songworks.
Notes: The John here is Johnathan Rhys Meyers, just thought I'd let you know and if memory serves me correct, "Galloch" means stranger in Gaelic. The title translates to "Song of Death, Song of War"
Part 9: Canto De Muerte, Canto De Guerra
Orlando considered himself first and foremost, an artist. Everything he did had to have a certain flair, a certain symmetry that showed everyone that it just wasn’t a careless task that had been accomplished, but one that had been done lovingly and with pride.
It was that twisted work ethic which he also brought to his prey and his occasional bouts of destruction and murder. Every victim was chosen with care; whether it was beauty, charm, intelligence or the timbre of a voice, all of them played a part in the choosing.
It was the same with the manner in which they were dispatched. Every cut, every blow; they all had to be given in a certain way else Orlando wouldn’t be satisfied and the cycle would start again.
Elijah was woken up by the sound of a blade being scraped against an oiled stone. At first, he was confused, since he knew that Dom wouldn’t do something so domestic as sharpening knives. However, once his mind had cleared a little, he realized that he wasn’t at home. Unless that was, Dom had decided they needed expensive art prints on the walls and silk sheets on the bed.
Frowning, he tried to sit up. At first, he tried to lever himself into a sitting position, but was only rewarded with a dull pain in his arms which were tied behind his back. Wriggling about, he found his legs had also been tied. He was frantically trying to loosen his bonds when the scraping noise suddenly stopped and Orlando came into his field of vision.
“You’re awake now, little bird?” he cooed brokenly, making a mockery of the endearment.
Elijah could sense heaviness in the room that in the past signaled the beginning of a long and almost strenuous sexual session between them. This time though, it was treacherous. Not exciting, but dangerous.
“What’s going on, Orli?” he asked, glad that his voice only wavered slightly in the face of Orlando’s empty onyx eyes. Orlando didn’t reply in words. He simply smiled. A freezing, empty smile that made Lij’s blood run cold in his veins. Acting on impulse, he began inching backwards from Orlando, his fight or flight response triggered immediately by that look.
Elijah didn’t plead. He didn’t beg as Orlando climbed on to the bed and began to follow him, his face a mask of blank malevolence that promised acts worse than death to all that looked upon it.
“Run, little bird. Run. I love the chase. Makes it all the more worthwhile, so run.”
Elijah didn’t need to be told twice as he did his best to get out of the way. He thought he had a fighting chance as Orlando seemed to be getting further away from him, but that hope was quashed when his back met the wall with a hollow thud that echoed the descent of his heart into his stomach.
He was fucked.
~*~*~*~*~
Viggo stood on the porch, lazily smoking a cigarette and watching the confusion of lights spread all over the city. He hated New York with a passion. Too crowded. Too full of perpetually decaying bodies that didn’t know what to do with the little bit of life given to them. Too full of empty dreams and promises. In short, it was a city that took delight in crushing every soul unlucky enough to arrive on its god-forsaken shores.
“If only the Dutch had had better foresight.” He muttered sourly as he recalled the way it used to be when it was once New Amsterdam. Now that was a beautiful place.
Caught up in thoughts, Viggo shook his head to clear his mind. There was no point in reliving the past. There were too many things that could have been done. No sense in wondering.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t himself to blame for being in New York. After all, indirectly or directly, he had dragged them here the minute that he had gotten word Sion was there.
He had given them some excuse and they had jumped on the chance of going to the city, since they had been near paralyzed by the sheer boredom of the old world and needed something new.
Or rather, Orlando needed fresh meat and a new hunting ground before they bled Scotland dry and ruined everything like he had in France and Russia. They all new it, but they wouldn’t admit it lest he decide to attack them.
Viggo took a drag off the cigarette and looked up at the sky, noting a slight sliver of red edging out the moon. Nodding to himself, he threw the cigarette to the ground and was about to go back inside when he sensed something. The wind was picking up and there was a sudden sharpness to it, almost like wood-smoke and fur and the copper tang of blood.
They had sent out their answer to Sion. After a week of silence, they had finally replied.
It was also a challenge to him, the Second Lord of The Varg.
Viggo had thought about it for the past week as he had heard the blue eyed child weep and bleed from Orlando’s tender cruelties. Cruelties that had become so commonplace that he simply closed the door on the horror and returned to the books on his desk. He had tried not to listen to the cries and pleas, telling himself that he didn’t care, that he was beyond the base human emotions of pity and sadness.
But the more he tried to sink himself deeper into his books or his sketches, the more he found himself going back to memories that he hadn’t thought of in centuries. These memories had been avoided for so long to ensure that the times he'd accompanied Orlando on his horror sprees could not haunt him.
Those particular memories always left him trembling and feeling as if he'd swallowed glass. Other memories from times spent with others were different. He was always surprised to remember himself as once being happy. Or at least enjoying the company of those he was with; of being together rather than locking himself in a room and sinking into lives that were vibrant and much more pleasurable than what he was used to being locked in.
As the week waxed and waned, the spectre of Sion haunted him time and time again. It taunted him over the choice he made and the regret soon afterwards. He would never have thought that Orlando could cause him so much grief, but now, he knew better. Sion may have been harsh and uncompromising at times having never lost the imperiousness of command; but he had been loyal. And despite the shattering of the coven, he had never once acted unfairly. Sion had tended to be more civil, more careful than any of the loose-knit confederation Viggo had been left the reluctant leader of.
Viggo went back inside and he mentally calculated what he needed to take with him when he left the coven: several books, clothing, his swords and several deeds. That would be enough. He didn’t require anything more at that point in time. Sean would handle the rest. He was sure of it.
Moving into his chamber he gathered it all up in a black valise, pausing in his preparations when he heard Orlando’s slurred orders to Parker. He moved to the door and watched as several different expressions crossed Parker’s face: disgust, calculation, anger and barely veiled neutrality.
It was at the last one that Viggo decided to make his move.
~*~*~*~*~
Craig swirled the wine around, making the light rose liquid circle the facets in the goblet, making them shine with a faint pink tinge as the light played through the crystal. He didn’t want to drink the wine. Not when the muffled whimpers and cries of that boy kept coming from Orlando’s rooms.
It had been a week that Orlando had been “playing” with the boy, mixing sex with liberal doses of sadism that made even Craig turn white when he had happened upon them. He put his glass down on the dark cherry-wood table and closed his eyes, wanting to desperately erase the memory of blood-stained knives, bloody sheets and lace shirts and a mute boy with a spider-web of cuts on his arms and back.
He didn’t understand why the memories were assaulting him so viciously. After all, Orlando had destroyed countless of boys in the same manner, year after year. So why was this one, with his pale beauty and deep blue eyes affecting him so?
He sighed and went to the window, hoping that the sight of the New York City skyline would do something to soothe his jangled nerves. He had just placed his hands on the window ledge and was examining the many lights of the city when he felt a clumsy, heavy hand on his shoulder.
“I’m going to get some more wine. Watch the little bird till I get back, all right?” Orlando’s slurred words hit his ears like an unwelcome shower of cold water and it was all he could do not to shake off his hand.
Instead, he looked at his companion, studying the flawless beauty he was either cursed or blessed with. The beauty was marred a bit this night by the intoxication in the dark eyes and the heavily and carelessly applied ebony eye-shadow that made him look like a too tawdry West End rent-boy.
“Fine.” Craig whispered quietly, forcing himself to stand perfectly still as Orlando gave him a wet, sloppy kiss and bounded away, humming a few bars of Mozart under his breath as he did so.
He didn’t move until he heard the door slam shut. Even then, Craig had to stand for a couple of minutes to regain some composure lest he lose it once he entered the room.
As he gathered himself into the last room of his inner-self, another being sidled up to him, making his presence known by the few tendrils of musky perfume that wafted over him.
“Do you want the child, Mr. Parker?”
Craig nearly jumped out of his skin at the almost growled words coming from his Elder. He took a few moments to take a deep breath and calm his nerves before speaking. Did he want the boy? Was it that obvious to all of them? Viggo snorted as Craig muddled through these surprising, but not so unwelcome thoughts in his mind.
“I’ve not lived this long, Mr. Parker, to not see the obvious in front of me.”
Craig flushed slightly before replying. “I..I..guess. I suppose I do want him. But he is Orlando’s. I’m not strong enough or foolish enough to attempt to take his toy away.”
Viggo laughed harshly, sounding like a wolf baying when he did so. “You forget something Mr. Parker.” Viggo said as he got close enough for Craig to see the tri-colour rings of blue in Viggo’s eyes that marked his long-forgotten partnership with the preternatural side of the world.
“I am. So would you please decide what you want to do about the boy quickly? I hate to rush you, but time is of the utmost importance at this time. I want to see Sion as soon as possible, so do hurry.”
Craig’s mouth fell open, but he quickly shut it and made his way down to the room. He suspected he would have plenty of time to ask about Viggo’s sudden change of heart later on.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sean stood at the window of Dominic’s flat watching the sky start to change colours. He knew, from experience that the Lupernalia wouldn’t arrive until dawn was nearly upon them. That was just their way and even though it irritated him, he didn’t bother giving them orders. They were allies, not servants and it was important to not forget that.
He sighed and moved away from the window. Dawn was still a few hours away and he was bored of waiting alone and in silence. It was at times like these that he missed having William around, since he needed the stimulation that the sometimes tart-tongued Scot would provide him with. He wanted Billy there, but he wasn’t about to order him back until the time came for it. He knew he had pushed Billy too far when he had taken blood from the boy and although it galled him to admit he had made a mistake, he knew that if he forced Billy into any kind of action, he would be taking a losing gamble.
So he waited for the rest of his pieces to move into position on the chessboard before choosing his next move.
He walked away from the window and went into the living-room area. He watched the girl sleep, secure in Karl’s arms, watched Miranda curl up against Dave, both of them looking extremely young and vulnerable and asked himself whether he would seriously be able to give them up in battle if the need arose. He stared at them for a few more moments before going back to the kitchen area, not willing to entertain a life without any of them around.
“Fancy seeing you ever so silent, Sean Galloch.” A cool, Irish voice startled him out of his mental wanderings and brought him back full-circle to his first pre-occupation.
“Fancy you being so early, Jonathan. Is this what? The first time ever?” Sean asked as he smoothly hid his inner turmoil and turned to greet the Ulfric of the Lupernalia.
“Second, actually.” Jonathan replied as he smoothed his long black hair away from his startlingly pale face and emerald eyes. “We decided it would be wise to hurry to you due to the severity of the situation.”
Sean frowned.
“I didn’t say that, Jonathan.” Sean told him flatly.
“I know. But I did.”
Sean’s eyes widened in utter shock as Viggo calmly stepped out from behind Jonathan and walked right up to him.
“Viggo.” Sean whispered in a shaky voice.
Viggo only inclined his head before embracing him.
“My Lord.”
Author: konishi_zen , Author turned beta elouisa (muchos thanks babe)
Other notes in the Cut along with the Fic
Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't sue. I own nothing except a couple of anime posters and a weezer cd and no you can't have them.
Warning: Blood, Violence, angst.
Pairings: Monaboyd main, several other pairings throughout.
Previous Chapters can be found in my lj memories and Songworks.
Notes: The John here is Johnathan Rhys Meyers, just thought I'd let you know and if memory serves me correct, "Galloch" means stranger in Gaelic. The title translates to "Song of Death, Song of War"
Part 9: Canto De Muerte, Canto De Guerra
Orlando considered himself first and foremost, an artist. Everything he did had to have a certain flair, a certain symmetry that showed everyone that it just wasn’t a careless task that had been accomplished, but one that had been done lovingly and with pride.
It was that twisted work ethic which he also brought to his prey and his occasional bouts of destruction and murder. Every victim was chosen with care; whether it was beauty, charm, intelligence or the timbre of a voice, all of them played a part in the choosing.
It was the same with the manner in which they were dispatched. Every cut, every blow; they all had to be given in a certain way else Orlando wouldn’t be satisfied and the cycle would start again.
Elijah was woken up by the sound of a blade being scraped against an oiled stone. At first, he was confused, since he knew that Dom wouldn’t do something so domestic as sharpening knives. However, once his mind had cleared a little, he realized that he wasn’t at home. Unless that was, Dom had decided they needed expensive art prints on the walls and silk sheets on the bed.
Frowning, he tried to sit up. At first, he tried to lever himself into a sitting position, but was only rewarded with a dull pain in his arms which were tied behind his back. Wriggling about, he found his legs had also been tied. He was frantically trying to loosen his bonds when the scraping noise suddenly stopped and Orlando came into his field of vision.
“You’re awake now, little bird?” he cooed brokenly, making a mockery of the endearment.
Elijah could sense heaviness in the room that in the past signaled the beginning of a long and almost strenuous sexual session between them. This time though, it was treacherous. Not exciting, but dangerous.
“What’s going on, Orli?” he asked, glad that his voice only wavered slightly in the face of Orlando’s empty onyx eyes. Orlando didn’t reply in words. He simply smiled. A freezing, empty smile that made Lij’s blood run cold in his veins. Acting on impulse, he began inching backwards from Orlando, his fight or flight response triggered immediately by that look.
Elijah didn’t plead. He didn’t beg as Orlando climbed on to the bed and began to follow him, his face a mask of blank malevolence that promised acts worse than death to all that looked upon it.
“Run, little bird. Run. I love the chase. Makes it all the more worthwhile, so run.”
Elijah didn’t need to be told twice as he did his best to get out of the way. He thought he had a fighting chance as Orlando seemed to be getting further away from him, but that hope was quashed when his back met the wall with a hollow thud that echoed the descent of his heart into his stomach.
He was fucked.
~*~*~*~*~
Viggo stood on the porch, lazily smoking a cigarette and watching the confusion of lights spread all over the city. He hated New York with a passion. Too crowded. Too full of perpetually decaying bodies that didn’t know what to do with the little bit of life given to them. Too full of empty dreams and promises. In short, it was a city that took delight in crushing every soul unlucky enough to arrive on its god-forsaken shores.
“If only the Dutch had had better foresight.” He muttered sourly as he recalled the way it used to be when it was once New Amsterdam. Now that was a beautiful place.
Caught up in thoughts, Viggo shook his head to clear his mind. There was no point in reliving the past. There were too many things that could have been done. No sense in wondering.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t himself to blame for being in New York. After all, indirectly or directly, he had dragged them here the minute that he had gotten word Sion was there.
He had given them some excuse and they had jumped on the chance of going to the city, since they had been near paralyzed by the sheer boredom of the old world and needed something new.
Or rather, Orlando needed fresh meat and a new hunting ground before they bled Scotland dry and ruined everything like he had in France and Russia. They all new it, but they wouldn’t admit it lest he decide to attack them.
Viggo took a drag off the cigarette and looked up at the sky, noting a slight sliver of red edging out the moon. Nodding to himself, he threw the cigarette to the ground and was about to go back inside when he sensed something. The wind was picking up and there was a sudden sharpness to it, almost like wood-smoke and fur and the copper tang of blood.
They had sent out their answer to Sion. After a week of silence, they had finally replied.
It was also a challenge to him, the Second Lord of The Varg.
Viggo had thought about it for the past week as he had heard the blue eyed child weep and bleed from Orlando’s tender cruelties. Cruelties that had become so commonplace that he simply closed the door on the horror and returned to the books on his desk. He had tried not to listen to the cries and pleas, telling himself that he didn’t care, that he was beyond the base human emotions of pity and sadness.
But the more he tried to sink himself deeper into his books or his sketches, the more he found himself going back to memories that he hadn’t thought of in centuries. These memories had been avoided for so long to ensure that the times he'd accompanied Orlando on his horror sprees could not haunt him.
Those particular memories always left him trembling and feeling as if he'd swallowed glass. Other memories from times spent with others were different. He was always surprised to remember himself as once being happy. Or at least enjoying the company of those he was with; of being together rather than locking himself in a room and sinking into lives that were vibrant and much more pleasurable than what he was used to being locked in.
As the week waxed and waned, the spectre of Sion haunted him time and time again. It taunted him over the choice he made and the regret soon afterwards. He would never have thought that Orlando could cause him so much grief, but now, he knew better. Sion may have been harsh and uncompromising at times having never lost the imperiousness of command; but he had been loyal. And despite the shattering of the coven, he had never once acted unfairly. Sion had tended to be more civil, more careful than any of the loose-knit confederation Viggo had been left the reluctant leader of.
Viggo went back inside and he mentally calculated what he needed to take with him when he left the coven: several books, clothing, his swords and several deeds. That would be enough. He didn’t require anything more at that point in time. Sean would handle the rest. He was sure of it.
Moving into his chamber he gathered it all up in a black valise, pausing in his preparations when he heard Orlando’s slurred orders to Parker. He moved to the door and watched as several different expressions crossed Parker’s face: disgust, calculation, anger and barely veiled neutrality.
It was at the last one that Viggo decided to make his move.
~*~*~*~*~
Craig swirled the wine around, making the light rose liquid circle the facets in the goblet, making them shine with a faint pink tinge as the light played through the crystal. He didn’t want to drink the wine. Not when the muffled whimpers and cries of that boy kept coming from Orlando’s rooms.
It had been a week that Orlando had been “playing” with the boy, mixing sex with liberal doses of sadism that made even Craig turn white when he had happened upon them. He put his glass down on the dark cherry-wood table and closed his eyes, wanting to desperately erase the memory of blood-stained knives, bloody sheets and lace shirts and a mute boy with a spider-web of cuts on his arms and back.
He didn’t understand why the memories were assaulting him so viciously. After all, Orlando had destroyed countless of boys in the same manner, year after year. So why was this one, with his pale beauty and deep blue eyes affecting him so?
He sighed and went to the window, hoping that the sight of the New York City skyline would do something to soothe his jangled nerves. He had just placed his hands on the window ledge and was examining the many lights of the city when he felt a clumsy, heavy hand on his shoulder.
“I’m going to get some more wine. Watch the little bird till I get back, all right?” Orlando’s slurred words hit his ears like an unwelcome shower of cold water and it was all he could do not to shake off his hand.
Instead, he looked at his companion, studying the flawless beauty he was either cursed or blessed with. The beauty was marred a bit this night by the intoxication in the dark eyes and the heavily and carelessly applied ebony eye-shadow that made him look like a too tawdry West End rent-boy.
“Fine.” Craig whispered quietly, forcing himself to stand perfectly still as Orlando gave him a wet, sloppy kiss and bounded away, humming a few bars of Mozart under his breath as he did so.
He didn’t move until he heard the door slam shut. Even then, Craig had to stand for a couple of minutes to regain some composure lest he lose it once he entered the room.
As he gathered himself into the last room of his inner-self, another being sidled up to him, making his presence known by the few tendrils of musky perfume that wafted over him.
“Do you want the child, Mr. Parker?”
Craig nearly jumped out of his skin at the almost growled words coming from his Elder. He took a few moments to take a deep breath and calm his nerves before speaking. Did he want the boy? Was it that obvious to all of them? Viggo snorted as Craig muddled through these surprising, but not so unwelcome thoughts in his mind.
“I’ve not lived this long, Mr. Parker, to not see the obvious in front of me.”
Craig flushed slightly before replying. “I..I..guess. I suppose I do want him. But he is Orlando’s. I’m not strong enough or foolish enough to attempt to take his toy away.”
Viggo laughed harshly, sounding like a wolf baying when he did so. “You forget something Mr. Parker.” Viggo said as he got close enough for Craig to see the tri-colour rings of blue in Viggo’s eyes that marked his long-forgotten partnership with the preternatural side of the world.
“I am. So would you please decide what you want to do about the boy quickly? I hate to rush you, but time is of the utmost importance at this time. I want to see Sion as soon as possible, so do hurry.”
Craig’s mouth fell open, but he quickly shut it and made his way down to the room. He suspected he would have plenty of time to ask about Viggo’s sudden change of heart later on.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sean stood at the window of Dominic’s flat watching the sky start to change colours. He knew, from experience that the Lupernalia wouldn’t arrive until dawn was nearly upon them. That was just their way and even though it irritated him, he didn’t bother giving them orders. They were allies, not servants and it was important to not forget that.
He sighed and moved away from the window. Dawn was still a few hours away and he was bored of waiting alone and in silence. It was at times like these that he missed having William around, since he needed the stimulation that the sometimes tart-tongued Scot would provide him with. He wanted Billy there, but he wasn’t about to order him back until the time came for it. He knew he had pushed Billy too far when he had taken blood from the boy and although it galled him to admit he had made a mistake, he knew that if he forced Billy into any kind of action, he would be taking a losing gamble.
So he waited for the rest of his pieces to move into position on the chessboard before choosing his next move.
He walked away from the window and went into the living-room area. He watched the girl sleep, secure in Karl’s arms, watched Miranda curl up against Dave, both of them looking extremely young and vulnerable and asked himself whether he would seriously be able to give them up in battle if the need arose. He stared at them for a few more moments before going back to the kitchen area, not willing to entertain a life without any of them around.
“Fancy seeing you ever so silent, Sean Galloch.” A cool, Irish voice startled him out of his mental wanderings and brought him back full-circle to his first pre-occupation.
“Fancy you being so early, Jonathan. Is this what? The first time ever?” Sean asked as he smoothly hid his inner turmoil and turned to greet the Ulfric of the Lupernalia.
“Second, actually.” Jonathan replied as he smoothed his long black hair away from his startlingly pale face and emerald eyes. “We decided it would be wise to hurry to you due to the severity of the situation.”
Sean frowned.
“I didn’t say that, Jonathan.” Sean told him flatly.
“I know. But I did.”
Sean’s eyes widened in utter shock as Viggo calmly stepped out from behind Jonathan and walked right up to him.
“Viggo.” Sean whispered in a shaky voice.
Viggo only inclined his head before embracing him.
“My Lord.”
no subject
You've written a fascinating world for these characters, and I love the mix of human/non-human interactions, with their surprising connections. Except for Orlando, everyone seems so very complex.
I have to admit to an Elijah obsession, so I was thrilled to find out what happened to him. After the last chapter I was afraid he was doomed to die out of hand - I couldn't see any way out considering Orlando's plans for him. So while it was awful to think of his suffering like that (how did Orlando keep him hanging on so long with the blood loss and trauma you imply?), I hope that there's a future for him still. (My worst fear was that he would be turned and used against Dom.)
Can't help but wonder why Elijah's state particularly affects Viggo and Craig so? He's obviously one in a long line of victims sadistically used. Yet you imply he stirs some sort of memory and sense of regret in them. Curious.
I hope that you are inspired to continue soon with what has happened with Billy and Dom. You've brought the situation on all sides to a tense standoff.
no subject
Thanks! Saying that I have complex characters is a real compliment. I chose not to have Orlando as not so complex not just because he was the villian but because he really doesn't think he's doing anything wrong. His perception of life is very balck and white hence his simpleness compared to the others.
As for Elwood...Trust me when I say I don't kill characters for the hell of it. Elwood is still very important...that's all I'm saying.
I will also give more information on how he survived later on...Don't want to spoil anything.
Not trying to be coy, but I will address the issue at later parts regarding Elwood. As for Viggo and Craig, I think it was basically the fact that they finally decided it was time. *keeps mouth shut after that*
*grimaces* Don't I know it has been brought to a head. I am working on that as we speak.
no subject
Don't feel pressured, by the way. I know things come to writers as they may and when the spirit moves. Just wanted to express my appreciation and excitement that you are moving the story on.
no subject
YEah, not a problem mate. Well, you kind of started the hamster running,so to speak, so I don't want to say more about the fic before I post it.
Oh, don't worry I didn't mean to sound like "GEt off my back!" or anything. It's actually the one thing that I know I must work on, since I tend to be sooo slow at putting out stuff regularily.
*off to work on the fic*