Like to Like
Title: Like to Like
Fandom: Dracula
Character: Abraham
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,119
Notes: ‘Cause well, yeah, I had to. I played fast and loose with canon. You’ll see. And I know far too much about some things and I’m SO ashamed.
Prompts: Kinkbingo Fill: “Body Alteration”
Abraham knew what he was getting into when he accepted the American job and headed to the Pacific Northwest. He did his homework, as he had always done. He knew the family he was dealing with. He knew the territorial battle he was about to walk into. Abe didn’t care. He had a task to complete and he would do it.
Generations ago, when he was new to the ways of the world, his powers just emerging, things had been different. Creatures of the night obeyed the border of night and day. Night dwellers respected the sun, they walked paths of shadow. Now, they brashly and boldly stalked the waking world, fearless in their cloaks of power.
In his travels, Abe had come across many that worshipped the night. Time and time again, he had faced what he thought was an equal, prepared to do battle if necessary. Only to find that the fangs were false; polymer or paste, teeth filed to appear canine, or simulations implanted in misguided youth basking in the glory and fever of a passing fashion. It was no longer a sin to be an abomination. Deviance had gained social acceptance in many of the circles of the misinformed and misbegotten of this faithless world.
Abraham still had faith. He still believed in what had always been in his heart. No one, not enemy, not church, not superiors, not even his own occasional doubts could sway him from the path of what he believed to be right.
His power made him ageless. It was merely a tool that gave him the strength to carry on with his work. He had a job to do. He needed to blend in. Over the years, some had glimpsed the old soul in the young body; some of those had become his friends, while others had died at his hand.
His cover was already in place. He pulled his car into the parking lot and got out. Reaching into the passenger seat, he picked up the backpack and slung it carelessly over one shoulder. He brushed his long hair back from his face. With a thought, he affixed the glamour and checked his look in the car’s rear view mirror. Perfect. But it should be, he had years of practice at affecting glamours.
Jogging up the steps, he elbowed his way past teenagers and checked in at the office, and collected his class schedule.
The building reeked of nosferatu. He smiled, this was the place. He cut his first class and went to the cafeteria instead. Sure enough, he found his first pack of misanthropes in the corner. Pierced and tattooed, made up and clad for night clubbing, he knew these were the pretenders. But the pretenders could be the gateway to the true nest. Often a low level would lie in their midst, reporting in and bringing new converts to the family.
Their eyes took in his black jeans, long black duster coat and his carelessly tossed blonde hair. He looked the part. He purposely glamoured himself to walk the edge, a standout of no one pack of adolescents, he offended none with his fakery.
A few minutes of conversation and he joined them at their table. A minimal dash of power to coerce was all it took. He easily took in these pretenders with their false teeth and brooding manner. They shared their poetry with him. He plastered a smile on his face and nodded and tuned them out as they prattled on in their masabatory angst.
When he walked down the hallway, one of the pretenders chased after him, a tattooed girl with tiny horns embedded in her forehead. He was oddly attracted and repulsed at the same time. She pulled him into a deserted classroom and he allowed her hands to rove over him, accepted her fumbling kisses, just so that he had the excuse to finger the tiny horns protruding so prettily from her pale white flesh.
His finger traced the shell of her ear, curiously dipping through the wide gauge that distended her earlobe, fascinated.
She wanted to be darkness. She toyed with what she perceived to be the edge. But she was a child. He pushed her away, reluctantly. How he wanted to taste her eager flesh, wanted to sink himself into that which was still innocent, despite the trappings of wickedness in which she clad herself. He touched a fingertip to one filed tooth, one false fang, caught on her lip as he pulled his mouth from hers.
She was not for him, this pretender to the dark.
“You should embrace the day, sweet girl,” Abe whispered, tossing a bit of power her way. It was not too late for her to choose another path. “Seek the light, before the night claims you evermore.”
And with that he left her standing against a chalkboard, a dreamy and dazed expression on her young face, entranced. Hopefully, it took and held and brought her back to the light where she belonged. He hoped she went home and scrubbed off the war paint, put away the jewelry, learned to love her own humanity.
He had true prey to hunt here; this child pretender was not for him.
He walked the perimeter of the building. The others were here, holding the outdoors as theirs as the day walking night creatures held sway within. He circled around, avoiding trespass. He entered through another door when he scented a trail.
Another group of misfits, older, seniors, clustered near the doors to the gymnasium. One of them, a girl, looked the part, but more importantly, she smelled as she should. A fledgling. Queen of the midden heap.
He smiled enticingly at her. He walked over, dripping power, winding his spell. Caught, she came to him, easy prey. A little lean in, a little push of power, and she agreed to go for a ride with him.
She walked out into the light with him. Once, generations ago, that would have done the work for him. Now, the light danced upon her. Her skin glistened in the filtered sunlight. She shone. It was a travesty, an aberration that a creature of night should shine so.
He took her in the car.
He disposed of the body in the forest, leaving it on the border of the two territories as a warning and a gift.
Abe had the trail now, he had marked her scent, it would lead to the others.
The darklings of Forks, Washington had no idea what stalked them now.
The eldest of the hunters, first born, first bred, sent out into their midst to do battle on equal footing.
Abraham Van Helsing walked among them now.
Fandom: Dracula
Character: Abraham
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,119
Notes: ‘Cause well, yeah, I had to. I played fast and loose with canon. You’ll see. And I know far too much about some things and I’m SO ashamed.
Prompts: Kinkbingo Fill: “Body Alteration”
Abraham knew what he was getting into when he accepted the American job and headed to the Pacific Northwest. He did his homework, as he had always done. He knew the family he was dealing with. He knew the territorial battle he was about to walk into. Abe didn’t care. He had a task to complete and he would do it.
Generations ago, when he was new to the ways of the world, his powers just emerging, things had been different. Creatures of the night obeyed the border of night and day. Night dwellers respected the sun, they walked paths of shadow. Now, they brashly and boldly stalked the waking world, fearless in their cloaks of power.
In his travels, Abe had come across many that worshipped the night. Time and time again, he had faced what he thought was an equal, prepared to do battle if necessary. Only to find that the fangs were false; polymer or paste, teeth filed to appear canine, or simulations implanted in misguided youth basking in the glory and fever of a passing fashion. It was no longer a sin to be an abomination. Deviance had gained social acceptance in many of the circles of the misinformed and misbegotten of this faithless world.
Abraham still had faith. He still believed in what had always been in his heart. No one, not enemy, not church, not superiors, not even his own occasional doubts could sway him from the path of what he believed to be right.
His power made him ageless. It was merely a tool that gave him the strength to carry on with his work. He had a job to do. He needed to blend in. Over the years, some had glimpsed the old soul in the young body; some of those had become his friends, while others had died at his hand.
His cover was already in place. He pulled his car into the parking lot and got out. Reaching into the passenger seat, he picked up the backpack and slung it carelessly over one shoulder. He brushed his long hair back from his face. With a thought, he affixed the glamour and checked his look in the car’s rear view mirror. Perfect. But it should be, he had years of practice at affecting glamours.
Jogging up the steps, he elbowed his way past teenagers and checked in at the office, and collected his class schedule.
The building reeked of nosferatu. He smiled, this was the place. He cut his first class and went to the cafeteria instead. Sure enough, he found his first pack of misanthropes in the corner. Pierced and tattooed, made up and clad for night clubbing, he knew these were the pretenders. But the pretenders could be the gateway to the true nest. Often a low level would lie in their midst, reporting in and bringing new converts to the family.
Their eyes took in his black jeans, long black duster coat and his carelessly tossed blonde hair. He looked the part. He purposely glamoured himself to walk the edge, a standout of no one pack of adolescents, he offended none with his fakery.
A few minutes of conversation and he joined them at their table. A minimal dash of power to coerce was all it took. He easily took in these pretenders with their false teeth and brooding manner. They shared their poetry with him. He plastered a smile on his face and nodded and tuned them out as they prattled on in their masabatory angst.
When he walked down the hallway, one of the pretenders chased after him, a tattooed girl with tiny horns embedded in her forehead. He was oddly attracted and repulsed at the same time. She pulled him into a deserted classroom and he allowed her hands to rove over him, accepted her fumbling kisses, just so that he had the excuse to finger the tiny horns protruding so prettily from her pale white flesh.
His finger traced the shell of her ear, curiously dipping through the wide gauge that distended her earlobe, fascinated.
She wanted to be darkness. She toyed with what she perceived to be the edge. But she was a child. He pushed her away, reluctantly. How he wanted to taste her eager flesh, wanted to sink himself into that which was still innocent, despite the trappings of wickedness in which she clad herself. He touched a fingertip to one filed tooth, one false fang, caught on her lip as he pulled his mouth from hers.
She was not for him, this pretender to the dark.
“You should embrace the day, sweet girl,” Abe whispered, tossing a bit of power her way. It was not too late for her to choose another path. “Seek the light, before the night claims you evermore.”
And with that he left her standing against a chalkboard, a dreamy and dazed expression on her young face, entranced. Hopefully, it took and held and brought her back to the light where she belonged. He hoped she went home and scrubbed off the war paint, put away the jewelry, learned to love her own humanity.
He had true prey to hunt here; this child pretender was not for him.
He walked the perimeter of the building. The others were here, holding the outdoors as theirs as the day walking night creatures held sway within. He circled around, avoiding trespass. He entered through another door when he scented a trail.
Another group of misfits, older, seniors, clustered near the doors to the gymnasium. One of them, a girl, looked the part, but more importantly, she smelled as she should. A fledgling. Queen of the midden heap.
He smiled enticingly at her. He walked over, dripping power, winding his spell. Caught, she came to him, easy prey. A little lean in, a little push of power, and she agreed to go for a ride with him.
She walked out into the light with him. Once, generations ago, that would have done the work for him. Now, the light danced upon her. Her skin glistened in the filtered sunlight. She shone. It was a travesty, an aberration that a creature of night should shine so.
He took her in the car.
He disposed of the body in the forest, leaving it on the border of the two territories as a warning and a gift.
Abe had the trail now, he had marked her scent, it would lead to the others.
The darklings of Forks, Washington had no idea what stalked them now.
The eldest of the hunters, first born, first bred, sent out into their midst to do battle on equal footing.
Abraham Van Helsing walked among them now.