Holiday-time enabled short vignettes
Hello all! I was taking requests for drabbles a couple of days ago and had several Wraeththu requests. Two I'll post below; the other two are so compelling (including Lianvis/Cobweb) that they're going to be longer than drabbles/vignettes, but hopefully will get completed today for your rooning reading pleasure.
camile_sinensis wrote: Anything at all with Velaxis!
Title: Behind the curtain
Fandom: Wraeththu (Bewitchments time period)
Characters: Velaxis, Arahal
Rating: PG
W/C: 297
"You beckoned?"
Arahal looked up from a sheath of papers, smiling at Velaxis.
"As a matter of fact, I did. Please, come in."
Velaxis didn't so much walk as glide from the entrance to Arahal's pavilion, fancying himself as a platinum-feathered swan. He sank gracefully into a chair opposite Arahal, an eyebrow raised in question.
"What can I do for you?"
A whisper of embarrassment flitted across Arahal's features and he took a deep breath, exhaling with purpose.
"Working with Swift the Varr has been draining. I haven't taken exercise like I should, and I've been asked to keep my focus solely on his caste training."
Velaxis looked on him with pity. "No aruna for you either, then?"
Arahal shook his head in resignation.
"That's a shame," Velaxis said. "I have some new gold clamps I was so wanting to see on you. The next best thing, then?" He was gratified to see a faint sheepish smile settle on Arahal's face.
"If you wouldn't mind, tiahaar."
"It would be my pleasure," Velaxis murmured with a voice like rich cream.
It was one of the privileges of being whom and what he was, the role he played, the pleasures he extended. After pouring Arahal some wine, Velaxis sauntered over to Arahal's temporary bureau, austere and forbidding. He retrieved the items he required and took up his place at Arahal's feet, still clad in his omnipresent black leather boots. As he removed them and rubbed oil into his finely-boned arches, Velaxis contemplated being the only member of the Hegemony and its staff to actually see the naked skin of Arahal's feet and know particular secrets behind the commanding officer's leather and enigmatic personality.
With a smile hidden by his long hair, Velaxis set to work, giving Arahal a pedicure.
heartofoshun wrote: How about Wraeththu--Vaysh vignette immediately before or after inception.
Title: Into the Fire
Fandom: Wraeththu
Characters: Vaysh, OCs
Rating: PG
W/C: 731
"Police! Fuck! Estovan, come on, come on!"
Estovan thought Clive had pulled his arm out of his socket and he yelped in pain as his best friend refused to let go.
"I'm coming!"
At least he was in a minimum of clothes, all black, and it was night- he ran behind Clive, out of the club filled with the hot musk of testosterone, lust and danger, and wondered if tonight would be the one in which he got shot in the back. Thankfully Clive was an expert in navigating the filth-strewn alleyways, and staying out of known gang territory. After what seemed like hours, Estovan and Clive leaned against a brick wall, breathing harshly. Estovan wiped some of his sweaty hair out of his face, feeling his skin prickle. He felt he was being watched.
"Think we lost them?" he said in a low voice.
Clive nodded his response, still panting. "I don't know why they keep terrorizing us," he said, venom in his tone. "Being queer isn't against the law. Yet…"
His voice trailed off and Estovan was about to ask him what was wrong, but he knew. One after another, beings dropped silently to the ground from broken windows, gleaming teeth inexorably falling from a rotting mouth. Clive had bolted, but Estovan stood there: mute, not breathing, his stomach cramping with fear. The six were beautiful, incongruous apparitions, looking favorably at him.
When Estovan's lungs began to burn he gasped, vision clearing as he took deep lungfuls of rank air.
"You're-" he rasped, and tried again. "You're?"
One approached him. Silver chains hung on his gleaming tea-colored skin and he gazed at Estovan through almond shaped eyes. "We're what you're going to become," he said.
Estovan swallowed, coughed, and tried swallowing again.
"Have some of this."
One of the others, pale with a spiked fall of black hair gave him a bottle of wine. Estovan drank.
"Wraeththu. It's what we are. Humankind is dying, you'd have to be blind not to see it," the cat-like one murmured. "We're liberated. Libertines. There's some pain in the change, but you'll survive."
Estovan felt bile in his throat, the fermented liquid threatening its return. What future did he really have? Stealing? Living on the streets, getting men to buy his drinks in clubs, trying to keep from getting killed?"
His hands shook. The pantherine gazed longingly at him, and took his trembling hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. "You need a new name. We'll incept you now. Three days and it's over."
Estovan nodded, wondering at how he'd not become a shrieking pile of body parts. "I'm Estovan."
An elfin youth tugged on the almond-eyed creature. "How about Van?"
Shuddering, Estovan shook his head. He wiped at tears that had at last formed in his eyes and now streamed down his cheeks. He was scared to death.
"Vaysh. Yes. Vaysh it is. You come with us, now." That was the one who'd first spoken.
Estovan/Vaysh let out an explosive, laughing sob. "How much pain?" he asked, letting almond eyes drape an arm around his waist and guide him down the alley. Vaysh's legs had quit responding to his mind's commands.
"We have drugs that will help."
Vaysh nodded, a numb sense of inevitability steadying him, somehow. "You're armed?"
The elfin youth grinned menacingly. "Oh yes. But we're leaving this hellhole and going out of the city. We'll look out for you."
When they took out the knife, Vaysh bit the inside of his cheek to hold in his scream. Panic battered at his chest.
"I shouldn't do this yet, but hell." The feline beauty kissed him as the cut was made. Vaysh feasted on his lips, and saw leaping flames and tasted copper. Dazed, teeth chattering and vaguely aroused, Vaysh looked at his arm. One of the Wraeththu tried to hand him a cigarette, but he couldn't grasp it. He leaned over and licked the blood off of the creature's forearm. Exhausted, he slumped against his rescuer, or executioner, clutching to him like a drowning man.
"We've got you," he whispered into Vaysh's ear. "Just survive your althaia. You're too gorgeous not to."
With a gurgled mewl, Vaysh marveled that the hand basket he seemed to be in was full of lithe men.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," he said, and then, "Oh fuck," just before he threw up.
camile_sinensis wrote: Anything at all with Velaxis!
Title: Behind the curtain
Fandom: Wraeththu (Bewitchments time period)
Characters: Velaxis, Arahal
Rating: PG
W/C: 297
"You beckoned?"
Arahal looked up from a sheath of papers, smiling at Velaxis.
"As a matter of fact, I did. Please, come in."
Velaxis didn't so much walk as glide from the entrance to Arahal's pavilion, fancying himself as a platinum-feathered swan. He sank gracefully into a chair opposite Arahal, an eyebrow raised in question.
"What can I do for you?"
A whisper of embarrassment flitted across Arahal's features and he took a deep breath, exhaling with purpose.
"Working with Swift the Varr has been draining. I haven't taken exercise like I should, and I've been asked to keep my focus solely on his caste training."
Velaxis looked on him with pity. "No aruna for you either, then?"
Arahal shook his head in resignation.
"That's a shame," Velaxis said. "I have some new gold clamps I was so wanting to see on you. The next best thing, then?" He was gratified to see a faint sheepish smile settle on Arahal's face.
"If you wouldn't mind, tiahaar."
"It would be my pleasure," Velaxis murmured with a voice like rich cream.
It was one of the privileges of being whom and what he was, the role he played, the pleasures he extended. After pouring Arahal some wine, Velaxis sauntered over to Arahal's temporary bureau, austere and forbidding. He retrieved the items he required and took up his place at Arahal's feet, still clad in his omnipresent black leather boots. As he removed them and rubbed oil into his finely-boned arches, Velaxis contemplated being the only member of the Hegemony and its staff to actually see the naked skin of Arahal's feet and know particular secrets behind the commanding officer's leather and enigmatic personality.
With a smile hidden by his long hair, Velaxis set to work, giving Arahal a pedicure.
heartofoshun wrote: How about Wraeththu--Vaysh vignette immediately before or after inception.
Title: Into the Fire
Fandom: Wraeththu
Characters: Vaysh, OCs
Rating: PG
W/C: 731
"Police! Fuck! Estovan, come on, come on!"
Estovan thought Clive had pulled his arm out of his socket and he yelped in pain as his best friend refused to let go.
"I'm coming!"
At least he was in a minimum of clothes, all black, and it was night- he ran behind Clive, out of the club filled with the hot musk of testosterone, lust and danger, and wondered if tonight would be the one in which he got shot in the back. Thankfully Clive was an expert in navigating the filth-strewn alleyways, and staying out of known gang territory. After what seemed like hours, Estovan and Clive leaned against a brick wall, breathing harshly. Estovan wiped some of his sweaty hair out of his face, feeling his skin prickle. He felt he was being watched.
"Think we lost them?" he said in a low voice.
Clive nodded his response, still panting. "I don't know why they keep terrorizing us," he said, venom in his tone. "Being queer isn't against the law. Yet…"
His voice trailed off and Estovan was about to ask him what was wrong, but he knew. One after another, beings dropped silently to the ground from broken windows, gleaming teeth inexorably falling from a rotting mouth. Clive had bolted, but Estovan stood there: mute, not breathing, his stomach cramping with fear. The six were beautiful, incongruous apparitions, looking favorably at him.
When Estovan's lungs began to burn he gasped, vision clearing as he took deep lungfuls of rank air.
"You're-" he rasped, and tried again. "You're?"
One approached him. Silver chains hung on his gleaming tea-colored skin and he gazed at Estovan through almond shaped eyes. "We're what you're going to become," he said.
Estovan swallowed, coughed, and tried swallowing again.
"Have some of this."
One of the others, pale with a spiked fall of black hair gave him a bottle of wine. Estovan drank.
"Wraeththu. It's what we are. Humankind is dying, you'd have to be blind not to see it," the cat-like one murmured. "We're liberated. Libertines. There's some pain in the change, but you'll survive."
Estovan felt bile in his throat, the fermented liquid threatening its return. What future did he really have? Stealing? Living on the streets, getting men to buy his drinks in clubs, trying to keep from getting killed?"
His hands shook. The pantherine gazed longingly at him, and took his trembling hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. "You need a new name. We'll incept you now. Three days and it's over."
Estovan nodded, wondering at how he'd not become a shrieking pile of body parts. "I'm Estovan."
An elfin youth tugged on the almond-eyed creature. "How about Van?"
Shuddering, Estovan shook his head. He wiped at tears that had at last formed in his eyes and now streamed down his cheeks. He was scared to death.
"Vaysh. Yes. Vaysh it is. You come with us, now." That was the one who'd first spoken.
Estovan/Vaysh let out an explosive, laughing sob. "How much pain?" he asked, letting almond eyes drape an arm around his waist and guide him down the alley. Vaysh's legs had quit responding to his mind's commands.
"We have drugs that will help."
Vaysh nodded, a numb sense of inevitability steadying him, somehow. "You're armed?"
The elfin youth grinned menacingly. "Oh yes. But we're leaving this hellhole and going out of the city. We'll look out for you."
When they took out the knife, Vaysh bit the inside of his cheek to hold in his scream. Panic battered at his chest.
"I shouldn't do this yet, but hell." The feline beauty kissed him as the cut was made. Vaysh feasted on his lips, and saw leaping flames and tasted copper. Dazed, teeth chattering and vaguely aroused, Vaysh looked at his arm. One of the Wraeththu tried to hand him a cigarette, but he couldn't grasp it. He leaned over and licked the blood off of the creature's forearm. Exhausted, he slumped against his rescuer, or executioner, clutching to him like a drowning man.
"We've got you," he whispered into Vaysh's ear. "Just survive your althaia. You're too gorgeous not to."
With a gurgled mewl, Vaysh marveled that the hand basket he seemed to be in was full of lithe men.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," he said, and then, "Oh fuck," just before he threw up.