TB fic: If You See a Shadow
Well, that was fast! I DON'T EVEN KNOW. THERE'S NOT EVEN ANY PORN. WHATEVER. YOU'RE ALL BAD INFLUENCES. THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT BY FINISH SOMETHING. FML.
Title: If You See a Shadow
Author: nightanddaze
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Godric/Eric
Word Count: 1210
Summary: His first experience with fear comes after he has been turned
Notes: Title from “Une Annee Sans Lumiere” by The Arcade Fire. No spoilers.
As a human, Eric was not afraid of anything. Fear is not a warrior’s trait, nor is it part of Eric’s human memories. It is something for lesser men and women.
His first experience with fear comes after he has been turned.
He wakes up to a sky splitting with stars, the dirt already cleared from his face, but there’s no sign of Godric or his dirty hands. His smell is fresh and strong all over their camp, but Eric cannot see him.
He hauls himself out of the earth but crouches then, hands braced near the grave. He can hear no sound but the wind and no footsteps shiver into his palms.
Because he is new, Eric waits. Godric has never been gone, but Eric has faith that even though he is gone now, he will not be for long. So Eric settles low to the ground and closes his eyes to wait for Godric’s light steps.
Eric thinks that maybe when he comes, Godric will bring a human with him, soft and squirming, heels dug into the dirt and teary eyes shining under the stars. Maybe Godric will let him have the first taste.
Hunger rumbles through Eric’s belly and veins as he imagines the richness of blood on his tongue, Godric’s hand on the back of his neck, fingers curled in his hair and Godric’s soft voice curling around him while he drinks. It feels like he has not fed in days, although this is not true.
He waits for so long that the stars shift and the remembered taste of blood sours into something that Eric can’t recognize but worries him. He stands to his full height, scanning the dark forest paths for Godric’s form and tilts his head. The wind has died and so has much of Godric’s scent. It’s strongest where Eric is, all across his front and down in their grave.
The clearing they have taken is small, barely three lengths of Eric’s body, so he circles it quickly, peering into the dark trees. He can see the village they have been feeding from in the far distance, a bonfire burning in the middle, but no figures are gathered.
A strange sensation crawls through Eric, urgent and terrible. The taste in his mouth gets stronger and he takes deeper breaths to pull in scents. The fire smells acrid, foul.
The urge to run is strong, but Eric only paces faster, watching the fire and the trails. He can hear himself making noises, low animal sounds in his throat, although they stop when he realizes where they come from.
He almost calls out for Godric, but the name is not one he is yet comfortable with. He has not said it, has no need, since Godric’s attention is always on him. It will not come when Eric tries to call it forward.
Something drops in the forest not far off, down the furthest path from Eric and he reflexively crouches, listening hard. No noise follows, but when Eric waits long enough the wind stirs up again and brings the sharp, sweet smell of Godric’s blood with it.
Eric’s moving before he realizes it, dodging under branches and panting like a dog. The first blood drops can’t be more than fifty yards inside the treeline, three perfect circles on the top of a root.
They’re still wet.
There’s more further up, a bloody handprint, exactly Godric’s size, made with enough blood that the palm is thick. Eric tastes the blood, licking down to his skin, before he follows the points of Godric’s fingers.
The last bit of blood is smeared across a tree trunk, so fresh it’s still dripping down the bark. Eric walks further, straining to hear Godric or smell any more of his blood, but he almost breaks out of the forest near the village with no sign of him.
Eric doubles back so he can scent the blood again. It hadn’t tasted like fear, at least not human fear, and it doesn’t have that particular tang when he smells it. He circles the tree, touching the bark with quick fingers.
He’s making those guttural noises again, baring his fangs at the village, rage overtaking his hunger.
Godric is gone and Eric is going to destroy every single human he sees until he finds him.
“Don’t,” Godric’s voice drifts down to him. “It is only a game.”
Eric whips around and looks up to see Godric perched on a branch just out of reach, head tipped to the side. He’s studying Eric closely, almost smiling.
“A what?” Eric demands, staring up at Godric.
Godric shifts on the branch, dropping one leg down. “I wanted to see if you could find me.” He swings his foot back and forth. “I did not think you would panic.”
“I did not-” Eric reaches for Godric, holding him still, the bump of his ankle pressing against the base of Eric’s thumb. He squeezes not-so gently. “I did not panic.”
Godric lets him hold on for a moment before he slips out of Eric’s grasp and slithers down to the ground.
“No matter,” he says, reaching out to brush dirt from Eric’s elbows. “We have found each other. All is well.” He looks up at Eric and smiles again. His fangs aren’t out. “You must be hungry.”
Eric’s anger has deflated, and a lightness inside him suddenly swells, pushing his hunger up as if Godric has commanded it.
“Yes,” he says, but it’s not without petulant annoyance.
“Come.” Godric turns away from the village and the fire Eric thought he burned in, walking back to the clearing, going to his knees near the grave. He stares up at the stars, eyes half-closed.
Eric looks up too. The night is almost half-gone, and they’ve done nothing of importance.
“Will we go to the village?” Eric asks. His fangs haven’t retracted, and the need for blood is strong.
“They have grown afraid of the monsters that hide in the dark. Have you not seen their fire? We will have to move tomorrow.”
Eric makes a stunted, frustrated noise, fidgeting. “I could have one of them before any of their warriors realized it.”
“No, you could not,” Godric says quietly, fondness lurking in his voice. “Not yet. Now come.”
Eric makes the effort to take a huffing breath, but he still kneels next to Godric.
“I have already fed,” Godric murmurs, reaching for Eric’s hip, the back of his neck, drawing him in slowly.
Godric’s smell fills Eric as he leans in, the deep dark scent of Death and dirt and whatever else it is that makes him. Beneath that he can smell Godric’s blood, dried and flaking every time Godric flexes his wrist.
Eric’s mouth aches with emptiness, but the sour taste has gone, leaving only anticipation in its place.
Just as his fangs sink into Godric’s neck and thick blood washes his moan down his throat he feels Godric’s fingers come up to cup the back of his skull. The fingers tangle in his hair and Godric rubs his thumb in comforting circles against the dirt under Eric’s ear, right where he used to have a pulse.
“And so shall I feed you,” Godric whispers, cradling him close.
Title: If You See a Shadow
Author: nightanddaze
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Godric/Eric
Word Count: 1210
Summary: His first experience with fear comes after he has been turned
Notes: Title from “Une Annee Sans Lumiere” by The Arcade Fire. No spoilers.
As a human, Eric was not afraid of anything. Fear is not a warrior’s trait, nor is it part of Eric’s human memories. It is something for lesser men and women.
His first experience with fear comes after he has been turned.
He wakes up to a sky splitting with stars, the dirt already cleared from his face, but there’s no sign of Godric or his dirty hands. His smell is fresh and strong all over their camp, but Eric cannot see him.
He hauls himself out of the earth but crouches then, hands braced near the grave. He can hear no sound but the wind and no footsteps shiver into his palms.
Because he is new, Eric waits. Godric has never been gone, but Eric has faith that even though he is gone now, he will not be for long. So Eric settles low to the ground and closes his eyes to wait for Godric’s light steps.
Eric thinks that maybe when he comes, Godric will bring a human with him, soft and squirming, heels dug into the dirt and teary eyes shining under the stars. Maybe Godric will let him have the first taste.
Hunger rumbles through Eric’s belly and veins as he imagines the richness of blood on his tongue, Godric’s hand on the back of his neck, fingers curled in his hair and Godric’s soft voice curling around him while he drinks. It feels like he has not fed in days, although this is not true.
He waits for so long that the stars shift and the remembered taste of blood sours into something that Eric can’t recognize but worries him. He stands to his full height, scanning the dark forest paths for Godric’s form and tilts his head. The wind has died and so has much of Godric’s scent. It’s strongest where Eric is, all across his front and down in their grave.
The clearing they have taken is small, barely three lengths of Eric’s body, so he circles it quickly, peering into the dark trees. He can see the village they have been feeding from in the far distance, a bonfire burning in the middle, but no figures are gathered.
A strange sensation crawls through Eric, urgent and terrible. The taste in his mouth gets stronger and he takes deeper breaths to pull in scents. The fire smells acrid, foul.
The urge to run is strong, but Eric only paces faster, watching the fire and the trails. He can hear himself making noises, low animal sounds in his throat, although they stop when he realizes where they come from.
He almost calls out for Godric, but the name is not one he is yet comfortable with. He has not said it, has no need, since Godric’s attention is always on him. It will not come when Eric tries to call it forward.
Something drops in the forest not far off, down the furthest path from Eric and he reflexively crouches, listening hard. No noise follows, but when Eric waits long enough the wind stirs up again and brings the sharp, sweet smell of Godric’s blood with it.
Eric’s moving before he realizes it, dodging under branches and panting like a dog. The first blood drops can’t be more than fifty yards inside the treeline, three perfect circles on the top of a root.
They’re still wet.
There’s more further up, a bloody handprint, exactly Godric’s size, made with enough blood that the palm is thick. Eric tastes the blood, licking down to his skin, before he follows the points of Godric’s fingers.
The last bit of blood is smeared across a tree trunk, so fresh it’s still dripping down the bark. Eric walks further, straining to hear Godric or smell any more of his blood, but he almost breaks out of the forest near the village with no sign of him.
Eric doubles back so he can scent the blood again. It hadn’t tasted like fear, at least not human fear, and it doesn’t have that particular tang when he smells it. He circles the tree, touching the bark with quick fingers.
He’s making those guttural noises again, baring his fangs at the village, rage overtaking his hunger.
Godric is gone and Eric is going to destroy every single human he sees until he finds him.
“Don’t,” Godric’s voice drifts down to him. “It is only a game.”
Eric whips around and looks up to see Godric perched on a branch just out of reach, head tipped to the side. He’s studying Eric closely, almost smiling.
“A what?” Eric demands, staring up at Godric.
Godric shifts on the branch, dropping one leg down. “I wanted to see if you could find me.” He swings his foot back and forth. “I did not think you would panic.”
“I did not-” Eric reaches for Godric, holding him still, the bump of his ankle pressing against the base of Eric’s thumb. He squeezes not-so gently. “I did not panic.”
Godric lets him hold on for a moment before he slips out of Eric’s grasp and slithers down to the ground.
“No matter,” he says, reaching out to brush dirt from Eric’s elbows. “We have found each other. All is well.” He looks up at Eric and smiles again. His fangs aren’t out. “You must be hungry.”
Eric’s anger has deflated, and a lightness inside him suddenly swells, pushing his hunger up as if Godric has commanded it.
“Yes,” he says, but it’s not without petulant annoyance.
“Come.” Godric turns away from the village and the fire Eric thought he burned in, walking back to the clearing, going to his knees near the grave. He stares up at the stars, eyes half-closed.
Eric looks up too. The night is almost half-gone, and they’ve done nothing of importance.
“Will we go to the village?” Eric asks. His fangs haven’t retracted, and the need for blood is strong.
“They have grown afraid of the monsters that hide in the dark. Have you not seen their fire? We will have to move tomorrow.”
Eric makes a stunted, frustrated noise, fidgeting. “I could have one of them before any of their warriors realized it.”
“No, you could not,” Godric says quietly, fondness lurking in his voice. “Not yet. Now come.”
Eric makes the effort to take a huffing breath, but he still kneels next to Godric.
“I have already fed,” Godric murmurs, reaching for Eric’s hip, the back of his neck, drawing him in slowly.
Godric’s smell fills Eric as he leans in, the deep dark scent of Death and dirt and whatever else it is that makes him. Beneath that he can smell Godric’s blood, dried and flaking every time Godric flexes his wrist.
Eric’s mouth aches with emptiness, but the sour taste has gone, leaving only anticipation in its place.
Just as his fangs sink into Godric’s neck and thick blood washes his moan down his throat he feels Godric’s fingers come up to cup the back of his skull. The fingers tangle in his hair and Godric rubs his thumb in comforting circles against the dirt under Eric’s ear, right where he used to have a pulse.
“And so shall I feed you,” Godric whispers, cradling him close.