(no subject)
Title: Bleed Well
Author: villianophelian
Rating: PG to R in later chapters
Pairing: VAM, eventually
Summary: Ville Valo is tired of living after a hundred years as a vampire. Deciding to finally get answers to his questions about life’s possibilities (and maybe raise more questions), he sets off for another country. Is it possible to be anything other than what he thought he was?
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters mentioned.
Genre: AU
Author's Notes: I was trying to think of what kind of story I’d like to read, and when I couldn’t find one I decided to try writing it myself >..< Well here it goes!
The crossing from autumn to winter felt crisp, it was refreshing to most people. The figure in black didn’t know how it could be. It was a time when dead things got covered in a blanket, as though it could’ve made them warm while it made them sparkle. It made the earth look new, almost angelic. Of course it was a lie. Underneath the nice cool white was just death, shrivelled and old. Like him.
The stone buildings that littered the bumpy streets felt like cold cement. They looked like they were about to reach their way into the sky and grab a hold. Would they be able to lift themselves off this earth and disappear into the cloudy atmosphere? Could they escape the disguised death of winter?
The Finnish man put out his cigarette on one of the stone walls. He wondered briefly if it was colder than his skin. Was it the same? How many times had he questioned whether his arms were frozen cement and twice as strong? Could he lift himself into the sky one day and never come down? His piercing green eyes looked up at the brightness above him. Being so close to the sky and the stars was not to be. No matter how many times he went out at night or day, no matter how many times he looked unblinking at the giant mass covering his world.
He was cursed.
Long thin fingers combed through jet black hair that fell just past his ears. Should he continue walking down these streets? Did he even want to? The dark jacket on his tall figure was pulled closer. Ville Valo knew it wasn’t the cold that was freezing him. It seemed to creep right into his soul. It was indecision. He’d been alive too long to know if what he wanted really mattered anymore. The man could live a hundred different possibilities in another hundred years, what was the point? He was killing time, killing people. It was an endless cycle of the moon and the sun circling the earth, with a mouth full of blood. Maybe this was hell. Maybe he deserved this for the amount of lives he wasted on his own. Damn... He wished he could die. At least in sleep there was no thought for change, no depression over a future where the only thing that was certain was that he would always be standing still.
Was it possible to change?
It was hard to believe that at this point anything he did could be so significant in his own life or anyone else’s for that matter. Even if he were to be ‘born’ again, who would see? He had no one. A Finnish man in Helsinki, he was a vampire in a cave. Everyone else had died. Why couldn’t he? Why was his story such a long and uneventful one...? Ville grimaced and began to walk in a random direction. He needed to get out of there, not just out of the city. It might be a good idea to go really far. Maybe there was a chance for him. He needed to do something. Maybe go someplace warmer. After all, what kind of hell was this cold? He felt like he had hibernated in a frozen wasteland.
Now he was restless...
It wasn’t exactly some newfound taste for life that the vampire felt, it was desperation. It was anxiety. It was so many questions about this life that were unanswered. Could he find them out on his own? Could he find out how the story ends? He didn’t know. “Maybe someone else will.” The Finn thought grimly, knowing the chances for him to be saved from his own point of view were slim. Religion was out of the question, what was left, love? It almost made him laugh, but he knew what a hopeless romantic he could be. Love was a tragedy. Love was unrequited. Ville was a singular being. In all his years there had been many lovers, but no love. There was just blood, and lust. How could this leaf ever be turned when it had already fallen off the tree and died?
The vampire felt stuck, but he didn’t want to be. Wasn’t it a choice? He could’ve stayed... Instead he picked up his pace at an unimaginable speed. It felt like he was running from one possibility, like he was running from himself. It even seemed possible that if he went fast enough and far enough, that maybe soon, he could escape.
The streets began to wear a thin powder of snow, leaving the vampires footprints to be covered behind him.