30_romances | Ishtar/Darres | #1 "cold hands; cold feet"
Fandom: Vampire Game
Title: Siuil A Run
Author/Artist: Krim
Theme(s): #1 cold hands; cold feet
Pairing/Characters: Ishtar/Darres
Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer/claimer (if needed): I don't own Vampire Game, seeing as I am not Judal
Summary (if needed): (Continuing story) With their blood-switching secret leaked, the four involved are now concidered treasonous. However, while they were being hunted, a strange light swallowed them, teleporting them to Maezra, a once-peaceful country on the brink of civil war (sound familiar?). After being found by the four generals - warriors of the highest order in Maezra - and taken in, they must learn the ways of the new land. Without Ishtar's family around, she is "allowed" to choose whoever she wants; all four are equal in status now, but with this unexpected change comes confusion. With no way of getting home - or so it seems - their lives are forever changed as they learn to deal with the new country - and each other.
“Darres!”
The princess shoved a corpse - ew - away from her, her expression tightening. She was so far (surprisingly) unharmed, but she couldn’t see Darres. An hour ago, the fighting had broken out in Mil Seii. Her name and Darres’ were called, along with Yuujel’s. Treason! they said. Deception! their sword cried.
All because of a maid. One little maid who had overheard Yuujel and Duzell considering switching Darres’ blood with her own to help him draw the sword. Thankfully, Duzell had had sufficient time to change them back, but that didn’t make the people any happier. Or the soldiers. Or Lassen. Or Laila, who had a convenient undead army; though Ishtar didn’t know it, the fact that Duzell would help humans - even going this far to do it - disgusted her enough to temporarily side with a few humans to go after him.
Amazingly enough, by hiding under a couple dead bodies - civilians, she noted; courtiers - the soldiers searching her out had run right by. Nonetheless, it still stank. Seeing the coast clear, Ishtar dashed out of the dining room and down the hall.
“Darres! Darres, where are you? Duzell? Yuujel!”
Ishtar nearly shrieked when she fell forward, afraid she’d been tripped by one of the soldiers, but she was only half right. She had been tripped alright, but by Duzell, who was quick with one hand on her waist, the other over her mouth. Pulling her close and into the (obviously) neglected room he himself had been hiding in, he closed the door with his foot.
“Quiet, princess. Do you want them to find us?!”
After a mandatory struggle before she recognized him, Ishtar shoved Duzell’s hand away, turning to look up at him. “We have to find Darres!” Her voice was a strained whisper, trying not to be too loud.
“He can take care of himself.”
“Now, Duzie! He could be in trouble and need help.”
As much as Duzell doubted it, he knew it was only a matter of time before the soldiers found Ishtar, or the undead found him - though the soldiers were looking for him, too; they weren’t very fond of a vampire in the castle. Might as well, right?
“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed, following Ishtar back into the hall, checking for the soldiers that she should have been on the lookout for.
“Darres!”
“Ishtar!” Her guard’s voice answered her own from the next room. With a burst of energy, the princess dashed into the parlor in time to see Darres’ sword slide through a soldier. Without thinking, Ishtar threw herself over him, pressing her face into his bloody shirt.
“Oh my god, I thought you were in trouble!”
It was then that the room shifted, leaning to one side. But they did not stumble, didn’t lose their balance; there was, however, a lurch in Ishtar’s stomach. She looked up at Darres, who was...smiling?
His expression was soft, very much unlike the expression her guard usually wore. His bloody - and surprisingly warm - hand came up to caress her cheek. The rest of the room blurred, and she pulled back a bit, scrutinizing him.
“Darres? Is it...really you?” It was normally such a silly question, but maybe there was a mage she didn’t know about...? A shape shifter?
“Yes,” he answered. “Now, princess: sleep.”
As she fell back, limp in his arms, her senses waned. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, could barely feel his arms around her. “Darres...what...Darres...” With that, her world went black.
---
“Who’s ‘Darres’? I’m getting sick of hearing his name.”
The healer twisted around, scowling at his companion, who had perched himself lazily in a tree. “Griff, would it kill you to shut up and help?”
“We don’t owe them a thing,” Griff answered, shifting into a more comfortable position, minding his yellow wings so the feathers didn’t scrape along the bark too much. “Why should I help?”
“Because, you dolt,” a third party interjected, looking up from her own charge; a man with long blonde hair in a messy braid. Her eyes were dark and it was difficult to pick out a shade, though they seemed to be a deep shade of blue with some violet, though that could’ve just been the hue tricking a person. Either way, they were cynical now, resentful. “There’s four of them and four of us; it’s only fair.”
“Please, Griff.” The fourth voice was soft and emphatic; she was clearly the peacemaker of the four, though more concentrated on the dark-eyed female and Griff. “That man over there; we can’t tend him before we’re done, and he might really need help.” Looking up from the wounds of the knight on the ground beside her, she motioned toward a white-haired, pale-skinned male laying in the grass, unattended by any of the four.
Griff scoffed, turning away.
The soft-voiced woman looked as if she were about to say something, but the other female snapped, “Don’t bother, Oona. You’ll never get it through his head, and he’s no good at healing. He’d probably saw the guy’s arm off.”
It was hard to tell whether that was tactic or just plain criticism; either way, it made Griff mutter something about “excellent healing skills” before he dropped from the tree, grudgingly going to the side of the pale man.
“How’s the girl, Pheonis?” Oona inquired after assuring herself that the knight was resting easy, wounds bandaged.
Brushing some light brown hair out of his eyes, the healer answered, “She’s all right. Sleeping easy, now.”
“Finally,” Griff grumbled.
The dark-eyed female shot a look at Griff over her shoulder before turning her gaze to Pheonis. “What was the dream about?”
Pheonis ran the dream through his mind again; he’d been there, watching, as the girl dreamt of her last moments before coming to their world. It was a bit of a...gift his own people had; the phoenixes had the ability to give dreams to others, even enter them, watch them. It certainly helped their healing ability along; with a patient asleep and dreaming, they often didn’t stir as much, or very little. And it kept them asleep longer than a tranquilizer. “Darres seems to be...that fellow over there. With Oona. She cares for him a great deal, and must be worried; she was so insistent on finding him safe that she almost became lucid. I think she saw me only half awake, and thought I was him. It’s strange...they usually stay firmly rooted in dreams when they’re like that.”
“But they’re not from our world, remember?” Oona reminded. “Did she dream of how they got here?”
Pheonis shook his head, gently settling the girl between the roots of the tree that Griff had been perched in so that, should she jolt awake, she (hopefully) wouldn’t hurt herself. “No. I had to put her into a dreamless sleep before she woke up; she seemed very...strong-willed, and if she saw her guard passed out in Oona’s arms, it might not settle well.”
As if on cue, Darres stirred. Scooting away, Oona kept an eye on him, just in case; she didn’t want to alarm the knight, but didn’t want anything unexpected happening while she turned away, either. Pheonis seemed to be doing the same with the princess.
---
Forcing himself to sit up, Darres rubbed his head, blinking until the grass came into focus. Once his sight was clear, he looked around, spying Ishtar first. Glancing around the rest of the small clearing - he seemed to be in the woods - and seeing the four strangers, he leapt to his feet, swaying slightly as his head pulsed.
“Who are you?”
“We mean you no harm,” the female - a naturally thin woman with limbs that suggested stealth and speed over strength, long white hair unbound and falling past her shoulders - informed him, holding out her hands in a sign of peace. She certainly looked peaceful enough; her features where soft, holding quiet strength rather than the obvious type of her three companions. She seemed young, too young for white hair, and though beautiful, her cheekbones were prominent, giving her an almost horse-like quality, accompanied by full lips and light skin, a blue jewel resting in the middle of her forehead in a diamond shape. The deterrent to her appearance was a pair of white wings on her back.
“What do you mean ‘we’?” muttered one of the males in the corner with disheveled yellow hair and feathered wings to match, bending over Duzell.
“Shut up, Griff,” another male snapped. No, not male; it took a couple seconds and some blinking to realize it, the dark-clothed warrior who was snapping at the blond was a woman. Her features weren’t soft or feminine - not right now, anyway - more angled, handsome even. What told Darres she was female - for her voice was rough, like her “opponant’s”, and could’ve swung to either gender - was the slight curve in the front of her shirt that the knight was nearly embarrassed to have noticed. Her hair was cropped, falling less than an inch past her shoulders, and was thick, hardly flowing like her companion’s, and pulled back with a hair band. Muscular and long-legged, Darres was sure she’d be near his own height, were she to stand up.
“You can’t boss me around.”
“Oh, that’s mature.”
The rest of the conversation was lost to the knight; the bickering seemed old and unimportant. He still wasn’t sure how safe the situation was, and didn’t want to turn his back on any of them. Apparently sensing this, the brown-haired man who had yet to speak motioned toward Ishtar.
“Go on; It’s obvious you’re eager to see how she is. You’re safe with us.”
“I’m not about to turn my back on a group of strangers.” No matter how friendly they seemed.
“Aiden.”
“Griff.”
“Oona.”
“Pheonis.”
Each stranger introduced themselves one-worded, Aiden and Griff quick to return to bickering. Pheonis smiled warmly. “Generals’ honor, we won’t hurt you while you inspect your princess.”
Eyeing them suspiciously nonetheless, Darres slowly, haltingly, went to Ishtar’s side. Once there, the others seemed to melt away as he took her hand, rubbing it with both of his when he found that it was cold. Warming her hands - an idle thing to do, really, as he was surveying the rest of her; he was nervous, though he wouldn’t admit it - his eyes skimmed over her face, down her arms and stomach and legs. Just as when the strange light had swallowed them in the courtyard and knocked them all out, she was unscathed; he’d made sure of that. Sighing lightly in relief, he almost smiled when she began to awaken.
“Darres?” She blinked awake, smiling when she saw it was him and throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you’re all right!”
It was about then that Yuujel and Duzell began to stir as well. Pheonis noticed first and cleared his throat.
“So...who wants to explain our world to the foreigners?”
His three companions all looked at him, but Aiden was the one who answered. “Thank you for volunteering, Phay. Have fun.”
Title: Siuil A Run
Author/Artist: Krim
Theme(s): #1 cold hands; cold feet
Pairing/Characters: Ishtar/Darres
Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer/claimer (if needed): I don't own Vampire Game, seeing as I am not Judal
Summary (if needed): (Continuing story) With their blood-switching secret leaked, the four involved are now concidered treasonous. However, while they were being hunted, a strange light swallowed them, teleporting them to Maezra, a once-peaceful country on the brink of civil war (sound familiar?). After being found by the four generals - warriors of the highest order in Maezra - and taken in, they must learn the ways of the new land. Without Ishtar's family around, she is "allowed" to choose whoever she wants; all four are equal in status now, but with this unexpected change comes confusion. With no way of getting home - or so it seems - their lives are forever changed as they learn to deal with the new country - and each other.
“Darres!”
The princess shoved a corpse - ew - away from her, her expression tightening. She was so far (surprisingly) unharmed, but she couldn’t see Darres. An hour ago, the fighting had broken out in Mil Seii. Her name and Darres’ were called, along with Yuujel’s. Treason! they said. Deception! their sword cried.
All because of a maid. One little maid who had overheard Yuujel and Duzell considering switching Darres’ blood with her own to help him draw the sword. Thankfully, Duzell had had sufficient time to change them back, but that didn’t make the people any happier. Or the soldiers. Or Lassen. Or Laila, who had a convenient undead army; though Ishtar didn’t know it, the fact that Duzell would help humans - even going this far to do it - disgusted her enough to temporarily side with a few humans to go after him.
Amazingly enough, by hiding under a couple dead bodies - civilians, she noted; courtiers - the soldiers searching her out had run right by. Nonetheless, it still stank. Seeing the coast clear, Ishtar dashed out of the dining room and down the hall.
“Darres! Darres, where are you? Duzell? Yuujel!”
Ishtar nearly shrieked when she fell forward, afraid she’d been tripped by one of the soldiers, but she was only half right. She had been tripped alright, but by Duzell, who was quick with one hand on her waist, the other over her mouth. Pulling her close and into the (obviously) neglected room he himself had been hiding in, he closed the door with his foot.
“Quiet, princess. Do you want them to find us?!”
After a mandatory struggle before she recognized him, Ishtar shoved Duzell’s hand away, turning to look up at him. “We have to find Darres!” Her voice was a strained whisper, trying not to be too loud.
“He can take care of himself.”
“Now, Duzie! He could be in trouble and need help.”
As much as Duzell doubted it, he knew it was only a matter of time before the soldiers found Ishtar, or the undead found him - though the soldiers were looking for him, too; they weren’t very fond of a vampire in the castle. Might as well, right?
“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed, following Ishtar back into the hall, checking for the soldiers that she should have been on the lookout for.
“Darres!”
“Ishtar!” Her guard’s voice answered her own from the next room. With a burst of energy, the princess dashed into the parlor in time to see Darres’ sword slide through a soldier. Without thinking, Ishtar threw herself over him, pressing her face into his bloody shirt.
“Oh my god, I thought you were in trouble!”
It was then that the room shifted, leaning to one side. But they did not stumble, didn’t lose their balance; there was, however, a lurch in Ishtar’s stomach. She looked up at Darres, who was...smiling?
His expression was soft, very much unlike the expression her guard usually wore. His bloody - and surprisingly warm - hand came up to caress her cheek. The rest of the room blurred, and she pulled back a bit, scrutinizing him.
“Darres? Is it...really you?” It was normally such a silly question, but maybe there was a mage she didn’t know about...? A shape shifter?
“Yes,” he answered. “Now, princess: sleep.”
As she fell back, limp in his arms, her senses waned. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, could barely feel his arms around her. “Darres...what...Darres...” With that, her world went black.
---
“Who’s ‘Darres’? I’m getting sick of hearing his name.”
The healer twisted around, scowling at his companion, who had perched himself lazily in a tree. “Griff, would it kill you to shut up and help?”
“We don’t owe them a thing,” Griff answered, shifting into a more comfortable position, minding his yellow wings so the feathers didn’t scrape along the bark too much. “Why should I help?”
“Because, you dolt,” a third party interjected, looking up from her own charge; a man with long blonde hair in a messy braid. Her eyes were dark and it was difficult to pick out a shade, though they seemed to be a deep shade of blue with some violet, though that could’ve just been the hue tricking a person. Either way, they were cynical now, resentful. “There’s four of them and four of us; it’s only fair.”
“Please, Griff.” The fourth voice was soft and emphatic; she was clearly the peacemaker of the four, though more concentrated on the dark-eyed female and Griff. “That man over there; we can’t tend him before we’re done, and he might really need help.” Looking up from the wounds of the knight on the ground beside her, she motioned toward a white-haired, pale-skinned male laying in the grass, unattended by any of the four.
Griff scoffed, turning away.
The soft-voiced woman looked as if she were about to say something, but the other female snapped, “Don’t bother, Oona. You’ll never get it through his head, and he’s no good at healing. He’d probably saw the guy’s arm off.”
It was hard to tell whether that was tactic or just plain criticism; either way, it made Griff mutter something about “excellent healing skills” before he dropped from the tree, grudgingly going to the side of the pale man.
“How’s the girl, Pheonis?” Oona inquired after assuring herself that the knight was resting easy, wounds bandaged.
Brushing some light brown hair out of his eyes, the healer answered, “She’s all right. Sleeping easy, now.”
“Finally,” Griff grumbled.
The dark-eyed female shot a look at Griff over her shoulder before turning her gaze to Pheonis. “What was the dream about?”
Pheonis ran the dream through his mind again; he’d been there, watching, as the girl dreamt of her last moments before coming to their world. It was a bit of a...gift his own people had; the phoenixes had the ability to give dreams to others, even enter them, watch them. It certainly helped their healing ability along; with a patient asleep and dreaming, they often didn’t stir as much, or very little. And it kept them asleep longer than a tranquilizer. “Darres seems to be...that fellow over there. With Oona. She cares for him a great deal, and must be worried; she was so insistent on finding him safe that she almost became lucid. I think she saw me only half awake, and thought I was him. It’s strange...they usually stay firmly rooted in dreams when they’re like that.”
“But they’re not from our world, remember?” Oona reminded. “Did she dream of how they got here?”
Pheonis shook his head, gently settling the girl between the roots of the tree that Griff had been perched in so that, should she jolt awake, she (hopefully) wouldn’t hurt herself. “No. I had to put her into a dreamless sleep before she woke up; she seemed very...strong-willed, and if she saw her guard passed out in Oona’s arms, it might not settle well.”
As if on cue, Darres stirred. Scooting away, Oona kept an eye on him, just in case; she didn’t want to alarm the knight, but didn’t want anything unexpected happening while she turned away, either. Pheonis seemed to be doing the same with the princess.
---
Forcing himself to sit up, Darres rubbed his head, blinking until the grass came into focus. Once his sight was clear, he looked around, spying Ishtar first. Glancing around the rest of the small clearing - he seemed to be in the woods - and seeing the four strangers, he leapt to his feet, swaying slightly as his head pulsed.
“Who are you?”
“We mean you no harm,” the female - a naturally thin woman with limbs that suggested stealth and speed over strength, long white hair unbound and falling past her shoulders - informed him, holding out her hands in a sign of peace. She certainly looked peaceful enough; her features where soft, holding quiet strength rather than the obvious type of her three companions. She seemed young, too young for white hair, and though beautiful, her cheekbones were prominent, giving her an almost horse-like quality, accompanied by full lips and light skin, a blue jewel resting in the middle of her forehead in a diamond shape. The deterrent to her appearance was a pair of white wings on her back.
“What do you mean ‘we’?” muttered one of the males in the corner with disheveled yellow hair and feathered wings to match, bending over Duzell.
“Shut up, Griff,” another male snapped. No, not male; it took a couple seconds and some blinking to realize it, the dark-clothed warrior who was snapping at the blond was a woman. Her features weren’t soft or feminine - not right now, anyway - more angled, handsome even. What told Darres she was female - for her voice was rough, like her “opponant’s”, and could’ve swung to either gender - was the slight curve in the front of her shirt that the knight was nearly embarrassed to have noticed. Her hair was cropped, falling less than an inch past her shoulders, and was thick, hardly flowing like her companion’s, and pulled back with a hair band. Muscular and long-legged, Darres was sure she’d be near his own height, were she to stand up.
“You can’t boss me around.”
“Oh, that’s mature.”
The rest of the conversation was lost to the knight; the bickering seemed old and unimportant. He still wasn’t sure how safe the situation was, and didn’t want to turn his back on any of them. Apparently sensing this, the brown-haired man who had yet to speak motioned toward Ishtar.
“Go on; It’s obvious you’re eager to see how she is. You’re safe with us.”
“I’m not about to turn my back on a group of strangers.” No matter how friendly they seemed.
“Aiden.”
“Griff.”
“Oona.”
“Pheonis.”
Each stranger introduced themselves one-worded, Aiden and Griff quick to return to bickering. Pheonis smiled warmly. “Generals’ honor, we won’t hurt you while you inspect your princess.”
Eyeing them suspiciously nonetheless, Darres slowly, haltingly, went to Ishtar’s side. Once there, the others seemed to melt away as he took her hand, rubbing it with both of his when he found that it was cold. Warming her hands - an idle thing to do, really, as he was surveying the rest of her; he was nervous, though he wouldn’t admit it - his eyes skimmed over her face, down her arms and stomach and legs. Just as when the strange light had swallowed them in the courtyard and knocked them all out, she was unscathed; he’d made sure of that. Sighing lightly in relief, he almost smiled when she began to awaken.
“Darres?” She blinked awake, smiling when she saw it was him and throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you’re all right!”
It was about then that Yuujel and Duzell began to stir as well. Pheonis noticed first and cleared his throat.
“So...who wants to explain our world to the foreigners?”
His three companions all looked at him, but Aiden was the one who answered. “Thank you for volunteering, Phay. Have fun.”