Ancient Wounds Pt 19
Thanks to those who still take an interest,its been a long time coming but we're nearly there :D
Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess
Title: Ancient Wounds
Rating: R
Summary: Prequel to my vampire fic Deepest Shadow. Ville recounts the events of his mortal life growing up in the poverty of 20th century Finland, wrought with grief, sex, romance, passion and abuse leading into his birth to darkness.
His lengthy tales are imparted to the sleepy mind of his young lover, but only in the seclusion of his own darkest thoughts does he begin to relive the greatest obsessions and deepest hurts rooted in his bygone and decadent time.
Warnings: Blood, angst, abuse.
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne (in parts)
Previous Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5i, 5ii, 6, 7, 8, 9i, 9ii, 10i, 10ii, 10iii,11, 12i, 12ii, 13, 14i, 14ii, 14iii, 15, 16, 17, 18
It’s common human nature to seek out your roots, is it not? The old proverb of not knowing where you’re going if you do not know whence you came holds some truth, it seems. There isn’t a man breathing who doesn’t desire the knowledge of his ancestry, the mystery of his origin -whether he descends from a gutter or the throne. When considering this most human of curiosities, it is really no surprise that our kind seeks a parallel to this knowledge, we the oh-so ‘human’ among monsters.
I don’t speak of our mortal paternity, of course. Most of us are quite well aware of where our families came from and who indeed they were. I myself come from a long line of European poets and rural workers (all very poor financially you understand, but isn’t there something quite romantic about a penniless writer or starving artist?).
No, the bloodline of which I speak is hidden in the very name I choose to bestow upon it: The Blood. Much like humans, I and so many others like myself have sought out who made us what we are and who it turn created them, tracing antique our lineage generations beyond memory. Understand, I have never journeyed to find the Maker of my Maker like so many others have done before me; I have never entertained that particular desire. I can only imaging him to be a terribly old and terribly cruel creature, if indeed he is still living or in fact even the gender I perceive him to be. I am only certain they are not aware of my wanderings, or that they do not care for my existence.
I often wonder where it all started, that is, who or what it might have been which created such a violent legacy. This killing and all this decadent constancy. I only think that we might never know the truth, if indeed there really is anything to be known at all.
But no matter, you are mine dear Bam, and I need no more knowledge than that…
……………………………….
For such a long time there was nothing, not darkness, not even emptiness. Nothing. The reason I say there was nothing is that I saw and felt, nothing. It seemed that for such a long moment I was in a place similar to that betwixed sleep and wake, a place and time you knew occurred but never remember the second your eyes opened.
Yet suddenly out of the nothing everything became warm, everything filled with delicate and pale white light. The light obliterated everything there had been before and was so beautiful suddenly that I lost all sense of my own limbs or parts or whatever it is I was comprised of. I had no shape or weight, just consciousness.
The nothing had suddenly with ceremony become, well, a something.
Ordinarily I thought I might try and reach out to touch such a thing, but in this moment such a sense of encompassing ease had taken me I had no want to do so. There was only the light to be observed and to feel, even though physically I could swear I was blind and oblivious to where I was. I only knew that I was contented, as if my whole being now was only comprised of pure human joy devoid of any material boundary.
Perhaps this is what it is like to die, I thought.
But the beauty of light soon began to fade along with my euphoria and I grew soon colder and aware of my own physical being. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of devastating sadness, as if something had been taken from me.
Something freezing cold was burning where my heart ought to have been. I could feel it work its evil way through every vein and artery, and with every nerve it invigorated I became aware of myself again. I was surrounded by a claustrophobic dark and could have sworn it was choking me.
My head started to pulse and my blood felt fizzy, it was as if I was passing out and coming round at the same time. I began to hear again. I heard a voice, hard and stern. I distinguished no words, but the voice I heard was becoming increasingly louder. Something grabbed my hand and suddenly my eyes from the darkness beheld his face, looking down on me.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t strong enough to make it,” he said. Master. It all came rushing to me, as if being born backward. We were upon my bed in my chambers as we had been all evening and I was in his arms.
But such difference to behold! I could scarcely believe it was the same place. The colours burnt my eyes with their intensity and detail, I could see every fibre in the fabric in front of me.
“What-” I began but stopped when I looked into his eyes. The clarity with which I beheld him was frightening, everything about him brighter and bolder and dizzying. I gasped a little and was shocked by how much more clear my voice sounded.
He laughed.
“It will take time but soon you will not be so startled by your own senses. Soon normality will return to you as you master what I have given you. There’s no need to be frightened, you are as I am,”
I was so full of questions, so full of confusion and yet so full of wonderment I could not bare it. I was lost in the beauty of it all, the difference that had been done. I felt a pang deep within me for something I’d never desired before.
Without words my Master pushed aside his ethereal blonde hair to expose a pale throat. Immediately I was overpowered by the sweetness of the scent I now instinctively knew to be emanating from the blood in the veins there. So transfixed now upon it in my new state of being I could swear that I could hear his heart pumping inside him or see the convulsion of the very vessels themselves.
He held me tight to him as ever, and snaking one arm about my small waist he drew me closer, pressing my cheek to the crook of his neck and whispered for me to kiss him there.
My nostrils flared with how intoxicating the scent was, sending my new eyes rolling into the back of my head as my full lips pressed hard against the offending vein causing me to bite down without a second thought.
Intuitively I knew to drink, to draw the blood out from him and to swallow rhythmically in time with the beat of his heart. I felt as if I would swoon any moment before I was firmly pushed from the wound.
“Not from me again,” he said firmly, though I was uncertain of what he meant “not after tonight”
I felt drunk. I slumped in his grasp and let him cradle me to him. With my new sense of touch and audacity I muttered him the question of what it is to make love like this. He merely laughed. In minutes I was asleep.
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Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess
Title: Ancient Wounds
Rating: R
Summary: Prequel to my vampire fic Deepest Shadow. Ville recounts the events of his mortal life growing up in the poverty of 20th century Finland, wrought with grief, sex, romance, passion and abuse leading into his birth to darkness.
His lengthy tales are imparted to the sleepy mind of his young lover, but only in the seclusion of his own darkest thoughts does he begin to relive the greatest obsessions and deepest hurts rooted in his bygone and decadent time.
Warnings: Blood, angst, abuse.
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne (in parts)
Previous Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5i, 5ii, 6, 7, 8, 9i, 9ii, 10i, 10ii, 10iii,11, 12i, 12ii, 13, 14i, 14ii, 14iii, 15, 16, 17, 18
It’s common human nature to seek out your roots, is it not? The old proverb of not knowing where you’re going if you do not know whence you came holds some truth, it seems. There isn’t a man breathing who doesn’t desire the knowledge of his ancestry, the mystery of his origin -whether he descends from a gutter or the throne. When considering this most human of curiosities, it is really no surprise that our kind seeks a parallel to this knowledge, we the oh-so ‘human’ among monsters.
I don’t speak of our mortal paternity, of course. Most of us are quite well aware of where our families came from and who indeed they were. I myself come from a long line of European poets and rural workers (all very poor financially you understand, but isn’t there something quite romantic about a penniless writer or starving artist?).
No, the bloodline of which I speak is hidden in the very name I choose to bestow upon it: The Blood. Much like humans, I and so many others like myself have sought out who made us what we are and who it turn created them, tracing antique our lineage generations beyond memory. Understand, I have never journeyed to find the Maker of my Maker like so many others have done before me; I have never entertained that particular desire. I can only imaging him to be a terribly old and terribly cruel creature, if indeed he is still living or in fact even the gender I perceive him to be. I am only certain they are not aware of my wanderings, or that they do not care for my existence.
I often wonder where it all started, that is, who or what it might have been which created such a violent legacy. This killing and all this decadent constancy. I only think that we might never know the truth, if indeed there really is anything to be known at all.
But no matter, you are mine dear Bam, and I need no more knowledge than that…
……………………………….
For such a long time there was nothing, not darkness, not even emptiness. Nothing. The reason I say there was nothing is that I saw and felt, nothing. It seemed that for such a long moment I was in a place similar to that betwixed sleep and wake, a place and time you knew occurred but never remember the second your eyes opened.
Yet suddenly out of the nothing everything became warm, everything filled with delicate and pale white light. The light obliterated everything there had been before and was so beautiful suddenly that I lost all sense of my own limbs or parts or whatever it is I was comprised of. I had no shape or weight, just consciousness.
The nothing had suddenly with ceremony become, well, a something.
Ordinarily I thought I might try and reach out to touch such a thing, but in this moment such a sense of encompassing ease had taken me I had no want to do so. There was only the light to be observed and to feel, even though physically I could swear I was blind and oblivious to where I was. I only knew that I was contented, as if my whole being now was only comprised of pure human joy devoid of any material boundary.
Perhaps this is what it is like to die, I thought.
But the beauty of light soon began to fade along with my euphoria and I grew soon colder and aware of my own physical being. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of devastating sadness, as if something had been taken from me.
Something freezing cold was burning where my heart ought to have been. I could feel it work its evil way through every vein and artery, and with every nerve it invigorated I became aware of myself again. I was surrounded by a claustrophobic dark and could have sworn it was choking me.
My head started to pulse and my blood felt fizzy, it was as if I was passing out and coming round at the same time. I began to hear again. I heard a voice, hard and stern. I distinguished no words, but the voice I heard was becoming increasingly louder. Something grabbed my hand and suddenly my eyes from the darkness beheld his face, looking down on me.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t strong enough to make it,” he said. Master. It all came rushing to me, as if being born backward. We were upon my bed in my chambers as we had been all evening and I was in his arms.
But such difference to behold! I could scarcely believe it was the same place. The colours burnt my eyes with their intensity and detail, I could see every fibre in the fabric in front of me.
“What-” I began but stopped when I looked into his eyes. The clarity with which I beheld him was frightening, everything about him brighter and bolder and dizzying. I gasped a little and was shocked by how much more clear my voice sounded.
He laughed.
“It will take time but soon you will not be so startled by your own senses. Soon normality will return to you as you master what I have given you. There’s no need to be frightened, you are as I am,”
I was so full of questions, so full of confusion and yet so full of wonderment I could not bare it. I was lost in the beauty of it all, the difference that had been done. I felt a pang deep within me for something I’d never desired before.
Without words my Master pushed aside his ethereal blonde hair to expose a pale throat. Immediately I was overpowered by the sweetness of the scent I now instinctively knew to be emanating from the blood in the veins there. So transfixed now upon it in my new state of being I could swear that I could hear his heart pumping inside him or see the convulsion of the very vessels themselves.
He held me tight to him as ever, and snaking one arm about my small waist he drew me closer, pressing my cheek to the crook of his neck and whispered for me to kiss him there.
My nostrils flared with how intoxicating the scent was, sending my new eyes rolling into the back of my head as my full lips pressed hard against the offending vein causing me to bite down without a second thought.
Intuitively I knew to drink, to draw the blood out from him and to swallow rhythmically in time with the beat of his heart. I felt as if I would swoon any moment before I was firmly pushed from the wound.
“Not from me again,” he said firmly, though I was uncertain of what he meant “not after tonight”
I felt drunk. I slumped in his grasp and let him cradle me to him. With my new sense of touch and audacity I muttered him the question of what it is to make love like this. He merely laughed. In minutes I was asleep.
------------------------------------------------------------<3