Shining Over You (Part 2)
Shining Over You
Part 2 of ????
Rating: PG-13; May Become R or NC-17 (If I get brave)
Pairing: Godric/Eric, Maybe More? Maybe Less? I'm just goin' with the flow here. :D
Warnings: I can not write a One-Shot, nor can I write something short. This will likely be hella-long. Yay Wordiness. Also? Probably dark as hell. I'm in that sort of mood lately with my writing. And then there's my babbling and exposition in this chapter. Pay it no mind. I'm promising actual action in the next one. Hurray exposition and incoherency!
Disclaimer: They're not Mine. Because in my world? Godric is still in Dallas, being his awesome, pristine self, and Episode 9 didn't end in a way that made me bawl my eyes out.
Notes: I'm a Slacker, I know. Stupid Writers Block and everyone elses' 'Awesome' has distracted me. This, however, is in my head at the moment. Make My Heart A Better Place will be continued tomorrow. Or Wednesday.
Julien POV
He's never expected people to really like him. They just don't. Even his Maker doesn't really enjoy his company unless he's in a certain mood, and even then it's mostly a fuck and a few fleeting moments of conversation before he's ignored for six more months. Most of the time, he's not even completely coherent.
Most of the time, he's not even really there.
So he's not shocked to see Eric storm off. It hurts like it does every time he's rejected, but it's not so very horrible. When one gets used to being rejected and it happens time and time again, it's not so horrible. Godric cringes, offers an apologetic smile, and then follows. His anchor is going away, and to be too far away is not good.
Julien understands. He'll fade, otherwise.
Sometimes, he wonders if it's better that he's never known what it's like to have what Eric and Godric do. Sometimes, he wonders what it's like to love like that. It's not something he'll ever know.
He goes back to what he's been working on. It's mindless and nothing talks at him. There are no ghosts here, and for a few minutes, he can be himself. He can feel and think without the synesthesia of hearing colors or tasting sounds. Too many drugs and other things when he was alive have made his mind not quite right. Sometimes, he swears he can see the taste of the blood he drinks, or touch the colors of the things around him.
Red. Green. Brown...they feel...different. He can even taste them sometimes.
Right now, he feels what he feels. The string in his hands is fine and soft. The color is red. He knows he's on a plane on his way to Dallas and on the plane he's whole for the most part. When they land, he'll be inundated again with pleas and offers from beings who should have gone to the crossroads the night or day of their death.
Pam, for the most part, has ignored him. Which is alright. He'd ignore him too. He'd rather be ignored than rejected.
Does that even make sense.
The pressure changes. He feels it in his mind and he knows that soon he'll be on the ground. Soon, they'll be in Dallas, and he rests his head against the back of the seat, closes his eyes, and steels himself for what is to come. He doubts Eric is going to give him a time to catch his bearings before he's dragged to that rooftop to get a 'feel' for the resonance.
He doubts that sleep will even be possible, with what is to come.
*****************************************************
"What does it feel like?"
Julien shrugs. He's been up here for a half hour, walking in a circle around the place--Eric says--Godric died. Linen shirt in his hands and Godric at his side. Watching him. He feels nothing from this area, even as he works the thin, light fabric in his hands and tries to feel the other vampire who'd once been in it.
"He's wrong, Julien. It's here."
He's standing on the edge, and Julien looks toward what others see as nothingness and what he knows to be the form of a very old, very young vampire who it will take...a great deal of everything he is to try and bring back. If they knew....
They'd still ask. Godric is more important to them than Julien would ever be to anyone. He is just a tool. A thing that Michel can fuck and barter with. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing too overly important to him, for as priceless as his skills are. Michel thinks there is no limit to the power the loa have graced him with.
Michel is very wrong.
Godric knows, though. Godric appreciates it, even if they can not touch. He sees it in the way the ghost watches him. In the way his voice remains soft and appreciative.
He steps away from where Eric has told him, and toward the edge of the building. The wall of emotion he walks into is intense and too much, and the breath he releases is a shaking one, even when he has no need to breathe. Sadness and joy. Regret and freedom. It's all there. It's overwhelming and beautiful and all those things he's ever wanted to feel.
"Why are you over there?"
"This is the place. Right here." He marks it with white chalk, though he doesn't need to. He can find this place again a million times if he's asked to. "Three nights from now. "
"Why not now?"
Eric's impatient, and Godric hides his face in his hand and shakes his head. Apparently this is normal, but Julien is going to have to explain the way Occult Ritual works. Which is difficult because Eric doesn't want to understand. He just wants his Maker back, and isn't willing to wait any longer than is necessary.
"I need things to do it. Preparations need to be made. I can't just....'summon' him." He thinks that's obvious. It's always been obvious. It's going to be hard, and Eric thinks all it takes is a wave of his hand and a few chanted words.
It suddenly makes him angry. As though this is costing him nothing, and it's just a simple thing he's being asked to do. "It's not so easy as you think."
The last is almost spat, and Pam blinks at him from where she's standing at the doorway to the roof. As though she can't believe he has the audacity to speak to her Maker that way. Most wouldn't have, even when they were in a position to demand just about anything they could possibly desire.
He's trying to be patient. He really is.
He closes his eyes. "Offerings have to be made to the right loa. It's going to take me at least three nights to prepare properly. That's if I'm not inundated with other people's ghosts and requests."
Eric's mouth opens, and Julien can see he's about say something...nasty, but Pam's phone rings. She's speaking in that language that they speak when they're talking about him and don't want him to understand, and Eric's eyebrow raises. This building is in no way the tallest around them, and he looks to Godric when Eric grabs his arm and pulls him toward the door.
"Someone is aiming a gun at you. That's what Pam is saying. That...and the Fellowship of the Sun is on television. They need to go downstairs and get you out of the open." He's following them, of course. Because Eric is leaving.
He blinks. They work fast. They haven't even been in Dallas for two hours yet.
Julien nods, and Eric looks at him strangely for a moment before he realizes who Julien must be listening to. His jaw clenches, and his eyes get cold.
To Julien, Eric makes no sense. He's supposed to ignore a ghost of someone he's going to try to resurrect? Not only is that very, very rude, but it's downright impossible. Godric just...refuses to be ignored, even if he wouldn't say a word.
And if he ignored Godric, he's sure Eric would be even more pissed off.
Like with most people in his life, he can't win with Eric, so he's not going to bother to try. If Eric wants to kill him after all this, he has the ability, and it's not like anyone will care. Even his Maker will demand a few hundred thousand dollars for his loss, and that will be it.
Because he's not a person to anyone.
He's a tool. Something to be exploited and used until there's nothing left.
****************************************************
Their hatred is hypocritical.
He's sitting in a chair and watching Steve Newlin and his fake wife bickering with the vampire spokesperson. Nan. Silliness. Why bother bickering with hate? It's nothing a person can win against, because that sort of hate can not be changed. They know nothing and are nothing. Talking about New Orleans Voodoo as if there are no Christian roots to it. As though he doesn't call upon the Saints in his chants.
And that's just what they're saying about him.
Nan is denying his existence, which is all well and good for him. The Newlin's are denying her denial. That they've seen him and find his very existence against God and what they've heard rumored about him is even more-so. He's shaking his head. So now seeing ghosts is against God? It's not like he can help it.
If he could get rid of this curse, he would happily give it up.
Eric is watching him. Watching his face. "You're not really listening to them."
"I don't care what they have to say. I don't understand why you watch them. They're hypocrites. Soon they'll be denouncing people with green eyes and red hair because both are genetic mutations, and saying that albinos are against God because they too are sensitive to sunlight. You can't argue with hate like that. It's total and complete.
"And they say we're going to hell? Half of what they're saying doesn't make sense, and the other half is biblical rhetoric that's taken completely out of context. It's a wonder anyone follows them. Their 'Faith' is based on gibberish and non-contextual sermons. If people actually listened to them, they'd realize them for the con-artists they actually are.
"Besides: I hate his wife's fake-ass hair. And her boobs. You'd think that with their high-and-mighty morals, they'd be against 'plastic' people too."
Eric blinks quickly at him. As though he hadn't expected that level of coherency. And then he laughs. "Tell us how you really feel, Julien."
"You don't want to hear that."
He laughs again, and Julien quirks a smile. He likes shocking people sometimes. He's as intelligent as just about everyone else, and has coherent opinions. They just...sometimes come out in incoherent ways.
He's insane, but that doesn't mean all of him is insane.
Just parts.
And soon, he'll be free of it.
"You should tell him what this will cost you, Julien." Godric has been telling him that since they first saw each other. "He will perhaps appreciate it more."
He shrugs. Says nothing. Eric doesn't like when he talks to Godric in front of him. The jealousy wafts off of him in waves of green and red. He can feel the colors crash into him at times, and it's painful.
Besides, he's not looking for appreciation for this.
He's looking for something much more important.
Part 2 of ????
Rating: PG-13; May Become R or NC-17 (If I get brave)
Pairing: Godric/Eric, Maybe More? Maybe Less? I'm just goin' with the flow here. :D
Warnings: I can not write a One-Shot, nor can I write something short. This will likely be hella-long. Yay Wordiness. Also? Probably dark as hell. I'm in that sort of mood lately with my writing. And then there's my babbling and exposition in this chapter. Pay it no mind. I'm promising actual action in the next one. Hurray exposition and incoherency!
Disclaimer: They're not Mine. Because in my world? Godric is still in Dallas, being his awesome, pristine self, and Episode 9 didn't end in a way that made me bawl my eyes out.
Notes: I'm a Slacker, I know. Stupid Writers Block and everyone elses' 'Awesome' has distracted me. This, however, is in my head at the moment. Make My Heart A Better Place will be continued tomorrow. Or Wednesday.
Julien POV
He's never expected people to really like him. They just don't. Even his Maker doesn't really enjoy his company unless he's in a certain mood, and even then it's mostly a fuck and a few fleeting moments of conversation before he's ignored for six more months. Most of the time, he's not even completely coherent.
Most of the time, he's not even really there.
So he's not shocked to see Eric storm off. It hurts like it does every time he's rejected, but it's not so very horrible. When one gets used to being rejected and it happens time and time again, it's not so horrible. Godric cringes, offers an apologetic smile, and then follows. His anchor is going away, and to be too far away is not good.
Julien understands. He'll fade, otherwise.
Sometimes, he wonders if it's better that he's never known what it's like to have what Eric and Godric do. Sometimes, he wonders what it's like to love like that. It's not something he'll ever know.
He goes back to what he's been working on. It's mindless and nothing talks at him. There are no ghosts here, and for a few minutes, he can be himself. He can feel and think without the synesthesia of hearing colors or tasting sounds. Too many drugs and other things when he was alive have made his mind not quite right. Sometimes, he swears he can see the taste of the blood he drinks, or touch the colors of the things around him.
Red. Green. Brown...they feel...different. He can even taste them sometimes.
Right now, he feels what he feels. The string in his hands is fine and soft. The color is red. He knows he's on a plane on his way to Dallas and on the plane he's whole for the most part. When they land, he'll be inundated again with pleas and offers from beings who should have gone to the crossroads the night or day of their death.
Pam, for the most part, has ignored him. Which is alright. He'd ignore him too. He'd rather be ignored than rejected.
Does that even make sense.
The pressure changes. He feels it in his mind and he knows that soon he'll be on the ground. Soon, they'll be in Dallas, and he rests his head against the back of the seat, closes his eyes, and steels himself for what is to come. He doubts Eric is going to give him a time to catch his bearings before he's dragged to that rooftop to get a 'feel' for the resonance.
He doubts that sleep will even be possible, with what is to come.
*****************************************************
"What does it feel like?"
Julien shrugs. He's been up here for a half hour, walking in a circle around the place--Eric says--Godric died. Linen shirt in his hands and Godric at his side. Watching him. He feels nothing from this area, even as he works the thin, light fabric in his hands and tries to feel the other vampire who'd once been in it.
"He's wrong, Julien. It's here."
He's standing on the edge, and Julien looks toward what others see as nothingness and what he knows to be the form of a very old, very young vampire who it will take...a great deal of everything he is to try and bring back. If they knew....
They'd still ask. Godric is more important to them than Julien would ever be to anyone. He is just a tool. A thing that Michel can fuck and barter with. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing too overly important to him, for as priceless as his skills are. Michel thinks there is no limit to the power the loa have graced him with.
Michel is very wrong.
Godric knows, though. Godric appreciates it, even if they can not touch. He sees it in the way the ghost watches him. In the way his voice remains soft and appreciative.
He steps away from where Eric has told him, and toward the edge of the building. The wall of emotion he walks into is intense and too much, and the breath he releases is a shaking one, even when he has no need to breathe. Sadness and joy. Regret and freedom. It's all there. It's overwhelming and beautiful and all those things he's ever wanted to feel.
"Why are you over there?"
"This is the place. Right here." He marks it with white chalk, though he doesn't need to. He can find this place again a million times if he's asked to. "Three nights from now. "
"Why not now?"
Eric's impatient, and Godric hides his face in his hand and shakes his head. Apparently this is normal, but Julien is going to have to explain the way Occult Ritual works. Which is difficult because Eric doesn't want to understand. He just wants his Maker back, and isn't willing to wait any longer than is necessary.
"I need things to do it. Preparations need to be made. I can't just....'summon' him." He thinks that's obvious. It's always been obvious. It's going to be hard, and Eric thinks all it takes is a wave of his hand and a few chanted words.
It suddenly makes him angry. As though this is costing him nothing, and it's just a simple thing he's being asked to do. "It's not so easy as you think."
The last is almost spat, and Pam blinks at him from where she's standing at the doorway to the roof. As though she can't believe he has the audacity to speak to her Maker that way. Most wouldn't have, even when they were in a position to demand just about anything they could possibly desire.
He's trying to be patient. He really is.
He closes his eyes. "Offerings have to be made to the right loa. It's going to take me at least three nights to prepare properly. That's if I'm not inundated with other people's ghosts and requests."
Eric's mouth opens, and Julien can see he's about say something...nasty, but Pam's phone rings. She's speaking in that language that they speak when they're talking about him and don't want him to understand, and Eric's eyebrow raises. This building is in no way the tallest around them, and he looks to Godric when Eric grabs his arm and pulls him toward the door.
"Someone is aiming a gun at you. That's what Pam is saying. That...and the Fellowship of the Sun is on television. They need to go downstairs and get you out of the open." He's following them, of course. Because Eric is leaving.
He blinks. They work fast. They haven't even been in Dallas for two hours yet.
Julien nods, and Eric looks at him strangely for a moment before he realizes who Julien must be listening to. His jaw clenches, and his eyes get cold.
To Julien, Eric makes no sense. He's supposed to ignore a ghost of someone he's going to try to resurrect? Not only is that very, very rude, but it's downright impossible. Godric just...refuses to be ignored, even if he wouldn't say a word.
And if he ignored Godric, he's sure Eric would be even more pissed off.
Like with most people in his life, he can't win with Eric, so he's not going to bother to try. If Eric wants to kill him after all this, he has the ability, and it's not like anyone will care. Even his Maker will demand a few hundred thousand dollars for his loss, and that will be it.
Because he's not a person to anyone.
He's a tool. Something to be exploited and used until there's nothing left.
****************************************************
Their hatred is hypocritical.
He's sitting in a chair and watching Steve Newlin and his fake wife bickering with the vampire spokesperson. Nan. Silliness. Why bother bickering with hate? It's nothing a person can win against, because that sort of hate can not be changed. They know nothing and are nothing. Talking about New Orleans Voodoo as if there are no Christian roots to it. As though he doesn't call upon the Saints in his chants.
And that's just what they're saying about him.
Nan is denying his existence, which is all well and good for him. The Newlin's are denying her denial. That they've seen him and find his very existence against God and what they've heard rumored about him is even more-so. He's shaking his head. So now seeing ghosts is against God? It's not like he can help it.
If he could get rid of this curse, he would happily give it up.
Eric is watching him. Watching his face. "You're not really listening to them."
"I don't care what they have to say. I don't understand why you watch them. They're hypocrites. Soon they'll be denouncing people with green eyes and red hair because both are genetic mutations, and saying that albinos are against God because they too are sensitive to sunlight. You can't argue with hate like that. It's total and complete.
"And they say we're going to hell? Half of what they're saying doesn't make sense, and the other half is biblical rhetoric that's taken completely out of context. It's a wonder anyone follows them. Their 'Faith' is based on gibberish and non-contextual sermons. If people actually listened to them, they'd realize them for the con-artists they actually are.
"Besides: I hate his wife's fake-ass hair. And her boobs. You'd think that with their high-and-mighty morals, they'd be against 'plastic' people too."
Eric blinks quickly at him. As though he hadn't expected that level of coherency. And then he laughs. "Tell us how you really feel, Julien."
"You don't want to hear that."
He laughs again, and Julien quirks a smile. He likes shocking people sometimes. He's as intelligent as just about everyone else, and has coherent opinions. They just...sometimes come out in incoherent ways.
He's insane, but that doesn't mean all of him is insane.
Just parts.
And soon, he'll be free of it.
"You should tell him what this will cost you, Julien." Godric has been telling him that since they first saw each other. "He will perhaps appreciate it more."
He shrugs. Says nothing. Eric doesn't like when he talks to Godric in front of him. The jealousy wafts off of him in waves of green and red. He can feel the colors crash into him at times, and it's painful.
Besides, he's not looking for appreciation for this.
He's looking for something much more important.