Ancient Wounds Pt 20ii
And another installement finds its weary way onto the computer...enjoy...
Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess
Title: Ancient Wounds
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Prequel to my vampire fic Deepest Shadow. Ville recounts the events of his mortal life growing up in the poverty of 20th century Finland, wrought with grief, sex, romance, passion and abuse leading into his birth to darkness.
His lengthy tales are imparted to the sleepy mind of his young lover, but only in the seclusion of his own darkest thoughts does he begin to relive the greatest obsessions and deepest hurts rooted in his bygone and decadent time.
Warnings: Blood, angst, abuse.
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne (in parts)
Previous Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5i, 5ii, 6, 7, 8, 9i, 9ii, 10i, 10ii, 10iii,11, 12i, 12ii, 13, 14i, 14ii, 14iii, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20i
I had dressed hastily for the cool night’s journey that would be my pilgrimage of the heart. The air was only slightly chilled, I wondered if April intended to last forever. It had been no task to slip out of the manor, as it never had been every night or day before; the servants regarded me with a blind eye as I strode the many rooms towards the great heavy doors and went about their cleaning and other such tasks as remedially as ever. No one had ever cared if I cried in their presence, not even as a boy when I was frightened and pined for consolation.
In my stomach I felt ill, the kind of ailment that comes from the knowledge that you are about to do something that has the definite possibility of ruining your existence or that of someone you care for. I confess though that it must have been made worse by the deviative blood now claiming victory over the organs of a formally mortal body. My heart, if indeed I still had one, was sunken deep into my chest and beat methodically with the sound of my footfall on the dirt track towards my town.
The speed at which I progress was alien to me, the journey through the dark winding paths and grassy courses taking far less time to cover than ever before. Understand though that it was not that I could feel myself moving any more rapidly (though this, in time, would change), only that the time it took itself seemed to greatly shorten itself as if by mysterious means.
In town the electric lamps were now lit, dappling the streets with white light so far less intimate than that of the candles from the previous decades. I measured it have been around eleven by the scarcity of those inhabiting the place, no doubt all at home with their families or drowning their miseries in the taverns.
I turned at one such tavern into a road of many storied town houses, expensive and fairly new to my understanding. Dyre had told me this is where I would find him, the brick house of three-storied with towering iron gateshe had said,wait there and he will know you are there for him.
And I stopped outside this place and knew instantly that he was indeed inside, the scent of him everywhere filling my nostrils playing on my feral instincts, I gauged I could have tracked his whereabouts by this fact alone (although in time this animalistic sense of smell could only sharpen, I would not come to hunt prey or others of my kind in such a primitive fashion).
In the window there where candles alight, filling the front room with a hazy glow and a welcoming air. I could hear words being spoken inside. An old servant woman somewhere was fussing with where to set down wedding gifts while a maid was sluggishly interchanged bed linen for the newlyweds that chatted in the parlour. I heard my lover’s sigh. Abruptly the sigh was joined by his presence nearest the window looking out onto the street upon which I stood now in the lamplight.
When his eyes met mine I thought I would cry again, but instead did not. Immediately he called to his bride in the back room and ran towards the front door. Awkwardly he slipped out and staggered towards where I stood, catching me hard by the wrist and dragging me into the shadows where neither of us could be seen.
He was immaculate, dressed in rich cottons and waistcoat, his hair loose over his strong shoulders framing his angelic blue eyes. He took my breath away. Was it because I knew that he was no longer mine?
“Oh God, Ville-” He wept and moved to embrace me, and although my head told me against it I gave into holding him for a few moment as he did so. Something was different about him. I wasn’t sure what.
“Emman…Jonne, listen” I began rather coldly.
“No, let me speak I beg of you” he exhaled, tears staining his radiant face “I never meant to hurt you and I never wanted any of this. This woman, Mina, we hardly know each other. I swear it. I can’t imagine living without you Ville, I-”
The embrace broke softly and I began to realize what was so different about him. His scent. The scent of him I had detected was coming from his possessions, his clothing…but not from him.Something about his scent was different. Indeed his looks where also different. Was it my new vision? No, it wasn’t that. I didn’t understand and it hurt me. My train of thought was broken by his hand upon my face.
“Ville…you’re so cold,” He trembled “please say something Ville”
I paused. My heart hurt. I swallowed and felt the knot in my throat would not budge or subside. I grasped for courage for what I was about to do.
“Jonne, my love…” I thought my voice might give out at any second, but pressed on “What you have done I can never forget, but I love you more than anything I’ve ever known. Jonne, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you-”
“Then don’t leave me, I beg of you” he cried clasping my hands in his like a possessive child “stay with me and love me like you always have, forgive me for what I’ve done”
I wanted to break down and hold him, but knew that it could not be.
“No” I said simply “I won’t”
His crystal eyes widened and shed more tears in the cold air, his voice hitching and shaking with emotion.
“What are you saying…” he shivered desperately.
“You said once that you would do anything for me, did you not?” I breathed, fighting the grief raging inside me.
His breath became shallow, and he appeared to become calm all over.
“Anything,”
“Your wife. Mina, is it?” I asked icily.
“Y-yes”
My hands were shaking in his. I felt as if I would cry and be ill and pass out all in unison. I shut my eyes tight in the darkness so as not to look at him or his new home that should have been ours .I was angry at myself and at him. I wanted to kiss him and to scream at him. I hated myself for what I was about to do. I thought about the course of events that lead me here and felt disgraced. Why does shame and self loathing become cruelty to the innocent?
I managed, finally to choke out a sentence through the anguish.
“I want you to love her,” I sighed “as you have loved me. I want you to treat her well and to be contented with your lives together”
I suddenly felt my control buckle, and pulled him into a long, searing kiss. We stood in the freezing night, lips pressed hard against one another’s, fingers entwined and in each other’s hair, bodied locked together in silence and passion and heartbroken lust.
To be truthful, a small piece of me died on the tip of his tongue.
Breaking that kiss was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.
“Goodbye, my darling”
I turned and ran away from him, my coat trailing on the air behind me with unnatural speed, my tears stinging my eyes and my cheeks in the wind. I left him there in the darkness to return to where I hoped Dyre was waiting to pick up the pieces of me.
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Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess
Title: Ancient Wounds
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Prequel to my vampire fic Deepest Shadow. Ville recounts the events of his mortal life growing up in the poverty of 20th century Finland, wrought with grief, sex, romance, passion and abuse leading into his birth to darkness.
His lengthy tales are imparted to the sleepy mind of his young lover, but only in the seclusion of his own darkest thoughts does he begin to relive the greatest obsessions and deepest hurts rooted in his bygone and decadent time.
Warnings: Blood, angst, abuse.
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne (in parts)
Previous Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5i, 5ii, 6, 7, 8, 9i, 9ii, 10i, 10ii, 10iii,11, 12i, 12ii, 13, 14i, 14ii, 14iii, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20i
I had dressed hastily for the cool night’s journey that would be my pilgrimage of the heart. The air was only slightly chilled, I wondered if April intended to last forever. It had been no task to slip out of the manor, as it never had been every night or day before; the servants regarded me with a blind eye as I strode the many rooms towards the great heavy doors and went about their cleaning and other such tasks as remedially as ever. No one had ever cared if I cried in their presence, not even as a boy when I was frightened and pined for consolation.
In my stomach I felt ill, the kind of ailment that comes from the knowledge that you are about to do something that has the definite possibility of ruining your existence or that of someone you care for. I confess though that it must have been made worse by the deviative blood now claiming victory over the organs of a formally mortal body. My heart, if indeed I still had one, was sunken deep into my chest and beat methodically with the sound of my footfall on the dirt track towards my town.
The speed at which I progress was alien to me, the journey through the dark winding paths and grassy courses taking far less time to cover than ever before. Understand though that it was not that I could feel myself moving any more rapidly (though this, in time, would change), only that the time it took itself seemed to greatly shorten itself as if by mysterious means.
In town the electric lamps were now lit, dappling the streets with white light so far less intimate than that of the candles from the previous decades. I measured it have been around eleven by the scarcity of those inhabiting the place, no doubt all at home with their families or drowning their miseries in the taverns.
I turned at one such tavern into a road of many storied town houses, expensive and fairly new to my understanding. Dyre had told me this is where I would find him, the brick house of three-storied with towering iron gateshe had said,wait there and he will know you are there for him.
And I stopped outside this place and knew instantly that he was indeed inside, the scent of him everywhere filling my nostrils playing on my feral instincts, I gauged I could have tracked his whereabouts by this fact alone (although in time this animalistic sense of smell could only sharpen, I would not come to hunt prey or others of my kind in such a primitive fashion).
In the window there where candles alight, filling the front room with a hazy glow and a welcoming air. I could hear words being spoken inside. An old servant woman somewhere was fussing with where to set down wedding gifts while a maid was sluggishly interchanged bed linen for the newlyweds that chatted in the parlour. I heard my lover’s sigh. Abruptly the sigh was joined by his presence nearest the window looking out onto the street upon which I stood now in the lamplight.
When his eyes met mine I thought I would cry again, but instead did not. Immediately he called to his bride in the back room and ran towards the front door. Awkwardly he slipped out and staggered towards where I stood, catching me hard by the wrist and dragging me into the shadows where neither of us could be seen.
He was immaculate, dressed in rich cottons and waistcoat, his hair loose over his strong shoulders framing his angelic blue eyes. He took my breath away. Was it because I knew that he was no longer mine?
“Oh God, Ville-” He wept and moved to embrace me, and although my head told me against it I gave into holding him for a few moment as he did so. Something was different about him. I wasn’t sure what.
“Emman…Jonne, listen” I began rather coldly.
“No, let me speak I beg of you” he exhaled, tears staining his radiant face “I never meant to hurt you and I never wanted any of this. This woman, Mina, we hardly know each other. I swear it. I can’t imagine living without you Ville, I-”
The embrace broke softly and I began to realize what was so different about him. His scent. The scent of him I had detected was coming from his possessions, his clothing…but not from him.Something about his scent was different. Indeed his looks where also different. Was it my new vision? No, it wasn’t that. I didn’t understand and it hurt me. My train of thought was broken by his hand upon my face.
“Ville…you’re so cold,” He trembled “please say something Ville”
I paused. My heart hurt. I swallowed and felt the knot in my throat would not budge or subside. I grasped for courage for what I was about to do.
“Jonne, my love…” I thought my voice might give out at any second, but pressed on “What you have done I can never forget, but I love you more than anything I’ve ever known. Jonne, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you-”
“Then don’t leave me, I beg of you” he cried clasping my hands in his like a possessive child “stay with me and love me like you always have, forgive me for what I’ve done”
I wanted to break down and hold him, but knew that it could not be.
“No” I said simply “I won’t”
His crystal eyes widened and shed more tears in the cold air, his voice hitching and shaking with emotion.
“What are you saying…” he shivered desperately.
“You said once that you would do anything for me, did you not?” I breathed, fighting the grief raging inside me.
His breath became shallow, and he appeared to become calm all over.
“Anything,”
“Your wife. Mina, is it?” I asked icily.
“Y-yes”
My hands were shaking in his. I felt as if I would cry and be ill and pass out all in unison. I shut my eyes tight in the darkness so as not to look at him or his new home that should have been ours .I was angry at myself and at him. I wanted to kiss him and to scream at him. I hated myself for what I was about to do. I thought about the course of events that lead me here and felt disgraced. Why does shame and self loathing become cruelty to the innocent?
I managed, finally to choke out a sentence through the anguish.
“I want you to love her,” I sighed “as you have loved me. I want you to treat her well and to be contented with your lives together”
I suddenly felt my control buckle, and pulled him into a long, searing kiss. We stood in the freezing night, lips pressed hard against one another’s, fingers entwined and in each other’s hair, bodied locked together in silence and passion and heartbroken lust.
To be truthful, a small piece of me died on the tip of his tongue.
Breaking that kiss was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.
“Goodbye, my darling”
I turned and ran away from him, my coat trailing on the air behind me with unnatural speed, my tears stinging my eyes and my cheeks in the wind. I left him there in the darkness to return to where I hoped Dyre was waiting to pick up the pieces of me.
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