Control isn't everything.
Control
“You…cannot control me!”
Gawain laughed, haughty and loud. The brash sound seemed to chase the mice away, the rats scurrying for corners and even the insects seemed to flee in the face of the vibrating tenor.
“No, William-“
“Don’ call me that!”
“Shut up!” The hand slapped against his face before he could blink, the sting etching itself firmly in his memory, lodged deep. His neck popped as he twisted it back to look at his sire, lip bleeding a little before healing itself neatly. “You will do as I say, boy. And I will call you want I like.”
Silent, Percy nodded as he fell back behind his sire. The man liked it that way, to be followed by a puppy that sulked, tail between his legs and head bowed. It was probably a blessing that Percy didn’t have a rope about his neck, and left to sleep on the floors at the foot of the beds.
He was Gawain’s, now. He wasn’t his own being, not anymore.
The wind cute across his brow, pushing long, dark locks out of his eyes as ice and snow swirled about them. They were hunting, but there seemed to be no one was slinking along the frozen streets of Paris. The air didn’t nip at his noise as it did others, the people the occasionally scurried from one place to another in search of a warm hearth to rub their hands before.
The city was held on a knife edge, as it had been since the marriage of Henry of Navarre had wed the princess. Since St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, things had always held a tension of fear and anger. Normally such things worked well for the creatures of the night.
Such things, weather and religious vigor, arrested the city. Forcing it into line with a the Kings opinions, which were decidedly Catholic- at least for the moment. There was rumor that Henry of Navarre would come to take his crown. Currently Henry III of France was trying to hold the reigns as the Huguenots tried with all their might to kill him before he killed them.
“Where are we going?” Percy asked finally, his boots slipping against the ice, cursing the weather and everything underneath the stars. He would have rather killed the first whore they came upon than to walk the streets.
“You will see…”
Hissing, Percy glowered at Gawain’s back, his chin lifting defiantly as they walked on. The people that dashed about huddled in their cloaks gave the two undead strange looks. They ice was sticking to their hair, snow collect….
“Here,” Gawain called back stopping outside a warm Pub, the blusterous sounds of song filling the air as they marched right into the hues or brown and orange. French songs and the smell of mead painted the atmosphere as Gawain led the way through the crowd area, and then up the stairs. “In there, go…”
Percy frowned hard as he pushed past his Sire and into the room, the stone fireplace blazing as the wood creaked beneath his weight. The bed was wide and long, two whores lounging prettily upon it. Gawain pulled the boy shut with a click behind them, Percy’s blue eyes casting him a speculative glance.
“Is this the boy?” A gruff, French accented voice asked from a dark corner, tugging Percy’s attention. The man was dark, skin tanned from work on a ship, auburn hair pulled back and tied. “Thinner than I expected…does he bite?”
“Only when told…” Gawain promised, reaching he pushed Percy forward, toward the man as if he where nothing more than a beast for barter. “Look him over if you want, just do not forget our deal.”
The man never gave his name; only let his hands roam over the younger vampire with a rough touch, yanking Percy’s head back to inspect his teeth like a lord would look at a horse’s. “He’ll do,” the man announced with his thick French slur, pushing Percy away without care for the younger vampire’s growl. “Let him feed as we discuss terms…”
Gawain nodded, looking at Percy and then the hours before pulling the boy to him firmly. “Leave, and I will kill you.” He pushed Percy toward the bed and left with the gentlemen.
So he fed, and waited. He paced and pushed the corpses away from the bed and laid down.
The fire was dying down by the time the pair returned. Percy sat up and blinked at them, frowning as Gawain lingered long enough to whisper instructions in Percy’s ear…
“Do as he says, Poppet.” He hissed, “I’ll come for you tomorrow night. If he is dead….you will be too.”
And then he abandoned Percy, a bag of coin pieces in his hand and a dark glance back at Percy…
Don’ leave… Percy pleaded silently, eyes glancing from the man undressing to his sire’s back until the door clicked shut.
Some things never changed…
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 826
“You…cannot control me!”
Gawain laughed, haughty and loud. The brash sound seemed to chase the mice away, the rats scurrying for corners and even the insects seemed to flee in the face of the vibrating tenor.
“No, William-“
“Don’ call me that!”
“Shut up!” The hand slapped against his face before he could blink, the sting etching itself firmly in his memory, lodged deep. His neck popped as he twisted it back to look at his sire, lip bleeding a little before healing itself neatly. “You will do as I say, boy. And I will call you want I like.”
Silent, Percy nodded as he fell back behind his sire. The man liked it that way, to be followed by a puppy that sulked, tail between his legs and head bowed. It was probably a blessing that Percy didn’t have a rope about his neck, and left to sleep on the floors at the foot of the beds.
He was Gawain’s, now. He wasn’t his own being, not anymore.
The wind cute across his brow, pushing long, dark locks out of his eyes as ice and snow swirled about them. They were hunting, but there seemed to be no one was slinking along the frozen streets of Paris. The air didn’t nip at his noise as it did others, the people the occasionally scurried from one place to another in search of a warm hearth to rub their hands before.
The city was held on a knife edge, as it had been since the marriage of Henry of Navarre had wed the princess. Since St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, things had always held a tension of fear and anger. Normally such things worked well for the creatures of the night.
Such things, weather and religious vigor, arrested the city. Forcing it into line with a the Kings opinions, which were decidedly Catholic- at least for the moment. There was rumor that Henry of Navarre would come to take his crown. Currently Henry III of France was trying to hold the reigns as the Huguenots tried with all their might to kill him before he killed them.
“Where are we going?” Percy asked finally, his boots slipping against the ice, cursing the weather and everything underneath the stars. He would have rather killed the first whore they came upon than to walk the streets.
“You will see…”
Hissing, Percy glowered at Gawain’s back, his chin lifting defiantly as they walked on. The people that dashed about huddled in their cloaks gave the two undead strange looks. They ice was sticking to their hair, snow collect….
“Here,” Gawain called back stopping outside a warm Pub, the blusterous sounds of song filling the air as they marched right into the hues or brown and orange. French songs and the smell of mead painted the atmosphere as Gawain led the way through the crowd area, and then up the stairs. “In there, go…”
Percy frowned hard as he pushed past his Sire and into the room, the stone fireplace blazing as the wood creaked beneath his weight. The bed was wide and long, two whores lounging prettily upon it. Gawain pulled the boy shut with a click behind them, Percy’s blue eyes casting him a speculative glance.
“Is this the boy?” A gruff, French accented voice asked from a dark corner, tugging Percy’s attention. The man was dark, skin tanned from work on a ship, auburn hair pulled back and tied. “Thinner than I expected…does he bite?”
“Only when told…” Gawain promised, reaching he pushed Percy forward, toward the man as if he where nothing more than a beast for barter. “Look him over if you want, just do not forget our deal.”
The man never gave his name; only let his hands roam over the younger vampire with a rough touch, yanking Percy’s head back to inspect his teeth like a lord would look at a horse’s. “He’ll do,” the man announced with his thick French slur, pushing Percy away without care for the younger vampire’s growl. “Let him feed as we discuss terms…”
Gawain nodded, looking at Percy and then the hours before pulling the boy to him firmly. “Leave, and I will kill you.” He pushed Percy toward the bed and left with the gentlemen.
So he fed, and waited. He paced and pushed the corpses away from the bed and laid down.
The fire was dying down by the time the pair returned. Percy sat up and blinked at them, frowning as Gawain lingered long enough to whisper instructions in Percy’s ear…
“Do as he says, Poppet.” He hissed, “I’ll come for you tomorrow night. If he is dead….you will be too.”
And then he abandoned Percy, a bag of coin pieces in his hand and a dark glance back at Percy…
Don’ leave… Percy pleaded silently, eyes glancing from the man undressing to his sire’s back until the door clicked shut.
Some things never changed…
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 826