A Tale of Worth (iris & CalamitousNag)

[iris]

.

⪼ ❈ ⪻

Sweat burned his eyes as he ran. It must have been hours, stumbling aimlessly through thick woods and muddy forest floors so saturated with water that his boots struggled to find purchase with every step. Once the adrenaline had worn off, his body finally succumbed to a great fatigue and his knees buckled where he stood. When his body met the ground, he was no longer conscious.

The chill woke him, a second time, that day. The first time was hours before, he had been parched beyond comprehension, but the world was spinning then and the morning sun was relentless on his deep brown eyes. He had guessed it was morning from the birds... some hundreds of birds making a cacophony, chirping and squawking. His head had felt like it was splitting at the ears. He must have blacked out from the rough awakening. Certainly, it was late into the night now. The moon was out, so he could only assume.

His skin felt tacky to the touch. Moisture from the humid air settled on his freckled skin creating what felt like a glue that stuck his clothes to his body. He could barely see anything in the dim moon light, but he knew that he did not look well. His white blouse was completely ruined, discolored, and torn in places where it had been caught on branches. There was water in his boots and a throbbing in his thighs and calves that told him that he'd been running for dear life. Dread overcame him once he glimpsed the crooked tombstones behind him, and he forced himself up. He felt like the shell of a man, swaying at the tiniest breeze, joints protesting at every movement. And most concerning of all, no recollection of how he ended up lying unconscious in a half-sunken cemetery.

He grew frustrated trying to remember the last 24 hours. If he strained, he could catch glimpses of fear, screams.. the taste of blood. The screams were his own. The blood was his own. But the details of his existence escaped him. It was like flipping through an empty ledger—as if he had simply materialized from the humid southern heat, yet the scars on his skin screamed otherwise. How had he known what southern heat felt like? How was it so familiar when he barely remembered his own name? It wasn't much to go on, but every memory was important.

"This is quite the mess we are in, Joshua." He spoke, voice rough from thirst, and addressing himself as if he were a body outside of himself. A strange thing to do, but something he so strangely felt was normal for him. It grounded him in the moment, and he finally attempted to survey the area, eyes passing over the landscape until they fell on a lone figure in the darkness. He had the feeling he wasn't in the position to trust any strange figures in the darkness, but in his state, he didn't have much of a choice. "Bonne nuit!" He waved. French? He furrowed his brows at the new information briefly. "Might I ask you where we are?"

⪼ ❈ ⪻

@CalamitousNag

 

[CalamitousNag]

Tick. Tick.

That's interesting. He could see the stuttering of the minute hand as the small pocket watch in his palm happily buzzed away. He hadn't noticed this small detail before. His amazement had long ceased at all the extraordinary things this unnatural form of his could do.

Click. He flipped the lid closed.

Click. He used a claw to flip it open.

Maurycy wondered just how long he'd have to lie in wait in this hell hole until the local vampiric "elite" forgot about his pitiful existence. So far, two months had passed since he'd held up in this forgotten swatch of swampland. Aside from the meal he'd made of the shack's owner, Maurycy was getting high tired of dining on rats and the other unmentionables that crawled over these wetlands.

Tick.

Snap!

Maurycy sprang to his feet, deftly closing and pocketing the watch in one swift move. A new scent had presented itself on the breeze that filtered through the bare, glassless windows. He smelled blood that lacked the usual mustiness that a four-legged creature would possess. It had to be a human's. He'd been so lost in his bitterness that he hadn't even noticed the wounded scent of his next victim. Interesting. This was new, too. Fifty years ago, he'd have careened through the door at a mere nosebleed. Perhaps the initial blood lust that plagued him shortly after his first death had finally started to dissipate--he had no doubt that the war and its... overabundance had something to do with it.

Infant though he no longer was, Maurycy still couldn't pass up the temptation of a good meal. Especially when the locals had his arms tied as well as they were. Whatever had stumbled onto his property was indeed his property. Surely the New Orleans harpies masquerading as mortals could understand that basal human need of possession, couldn't they? He would take what was his and they'd be none the wiser.

Maurycy swept out the door, not even bothering to don his summer cloak in the presence of all this heat. He'd hate to stain it, anyway--lest he got a bit... overzealous.

Maurycy craned his head back as he dropped his fangs, gray eyes shifting to glowing red spheres in the darkness. He could see well enough without the change, but the change simply meant he could spring quicker. Maurycy knew better than to ask questions first, which made it all the more surprising when he rounded a bend of trees and was confronted with what appeared to be a man verily waving to him.

Maurycy froze mid-step. He was accustomed to surprise attacks on his prey--he didn't know how he felt attacking prey that so politely called out to him, "Good Evening." His hesitation was visible in his off-kilter stance, half ready to spring, half rooted to the spot.

Yes, Maurycy recognized the greeting as French. He'd encountered it before in his homeland before even traveling to the Americas. He'd heard some variant of it spoken around these parts, though it wasn't anything he could begin to understand. Even so, if this denoted that the man was a local, shouldn't he know better than to be on this land? Something seemed off about the situation and Maurycy found himself retracting his fangs, though he was still a ways off.

Relaxing somewhat, Maurycy straightened to his full 5'7" height and staunchly adjusted the collar of his dress shirt. He didn't answer the man immediately, instead taking time to adjust his cuff sleeves before he dared give away his intent too soon. The small distraction was a great way to avoid answering the question.

But the man did ask a question, and Maurycy wasn't inclined to ignore him. Slowly, cautiously, Maurycy neared the man's vulnerable figure.

"Where you are, sir, is on the outskirts of my property," Maurycy stated--not unkindly--in English heavily affected by a Polish accent. He probably should try harder to sound local but this man before him was in no position to judge his immigrant status.

Maurycy narrowed gray eyes on the man, as he turned his head and swept his eyes over him. Now that he was conversing with his prey, he supposed he had a specific part to play. Sighing, Maurycy kneeled down a few paces away from the man.

"You are in a cemetery, yet you are alive. I am a doctor. Are you injured?"

 

[iris]

.

⪼ ❈ ⪻

Joshua squinted, struggling to see anything in the dim light. Waiting for a response did little to calm his nerves and a dull humming sensation was beginning to resonate in his ears. He heard and felt the breath of a whisper: run. But he couldn't discern if it was a fragmented memory or a part of the present.

The anticipation was not completely gone when the figure, revealed a man, finally spoke. Nor did it leave when he caught a glimpse of the man's eyes. The distance between them still wasn't small enough for him to pick up any specific details, but it was enough to notice a moonlit glint. Something innate pried his gaze away. Eyes, it warned him, rather ominously. Joshua did not have the mental strength to try and decipher what that meant, but thought it best to avoid eye contact and instead direct his attention to the outline of the man's body.

He fought the urge for wry laughter at the non-answer, seeing he was now a trespasser and no wiser for it. Not only that, but the man's accent further added to his feeling of confusion and isolation. Though it was a relief that he was confirmed alive. The question remained: Just where was he? But perhaps he wasn't asking the right questions. A better question might have been why was he? Though it was clear that this newly acquainted stranger was even less equipped to answer that than he, himself was. The thoughts were silenced when the man before him kneeled, yes kneeled, at a distance from him. Joshua was surprised to find that he found that the gesture… strangely put him at ease.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

Seeing as the man had so mercifully asked if he was injured--and not to mention was the first and only beacon of hope within who knows how large of a radius--he suppressed the escapist fantasies. "Please pardon my intrusion, doctor..." He began, minding his title. A doctor? How convenient. He was in rough shape and showed up unannounced in a strange man's cemetery, but how lucky was it that this man had been a doctor. A flash of doubt clouded his thoughts for a moment but he conceded to putting his trust in him. Especially when he had asked so mercifully about his state of wellbeing. He considered the scars on his body, absentmindedly running a hand up his ragged forearm. "Injured? Well… perhaps. It seems I may have gotten caught in some of the foliage. Most pressingly, I believe I may have hit my head on something. I can't seem to remember… how I found myself here."

⪼ ❈ ⪻

 

[CalamitousNag]

Was this the feeling a feline felt when its victim closed its eyes to it? Maurycy tilted his head, the gesture trailing the movement of his sharpened eyes as they slid over the man's frame in front of him. The intruder sighed as if from relief. Oh, there was so much he could accomplish within the span of a human blink. Still, he held himself at bay. Before long, the man began to talk.

His lips felt funny--he could swear he was smiling as the man accepted his title without little persuasion. Maurycy supposed the presence of injury was a useful conduit of that trust. The man shifted suddenly and the vampire's eyes seized on the movement of his hand as the man felt his own arm. The man didn't appear very aware of his own state. Poor Maurycy--for he was overly aware. The vampire had to bite the inside of his cheek to focus on what was being said. Luckily, it gave him a pensive expression, if only the man could see.

"Hm," Maurycy hummed, considering the man's words as he stared him deliberately in the eyes. "Yes, you are certainly injured. If not in body, most in mind," Maurycy replied, his dry humor falling dead and flat in the space between them. Maurycy's hand moved as if to inspect the source of injury, but, thankfully, he caught himself and his hand stopped in midair. What questions would arise if the man knew Maurycy could see such a discreet injury in the darkness of night?

He changed focus to the conversation at hand.

"If you do not remember how you arrived, do you at the very least know your name?" Asking relevant questions--that's what typical doctors did, yes? "Or have you forgotten, too? You hit your head," Maurycy reiterated, mimicking the action by tapping a balled fist to his own.

Maurycy was waiting for the man's answer when he suddenly added, "Can you stand? I can exam you. At my home."

 

[iris]

.

⪼ ❈ ⪻

The man's tapping gesture caught his attention and for a moment, held it. His own hand came up to the bald, elevated skin on his own head. Whatever it was got him really good... though he had a feeling that it wasn't as fresh as he initially thought that it was. An uneasy feeling was building in his stomach, and was only exacerbated by the screaming that started when his gaze even came close to the other man's face. Heat rose to his face as he kept his eyes trained on the ground in resignation. A wave of frustration washed over him as he couldn't shake the feeling that something else inside him was happy that he was giving in.

He still wasn't quite sure why such feelings had arisen in him, but figured that it was a result of the giant lump on the back of his head. It had to be, surely. "Joshua." He finally answered. At least, that was the name that had presented itself to him upon his waking. The one he'd used to address himself. It was… better than nothing. Instinct was guiding his gaze back to the man's eyes, but he was relieved for a reason to look elsewhere. Even if that meant he wasn't quite able to ask his name in return. 'Doctor' would have to suffice until he found a good time to work the question in.

"Are you certain? Well, I suppose I could give it a try." The prospect of standing itself did not seem appealing after the first attempt, but considering he was so eager to accept help from this man whom he'd just met, he couldn't bear to impose any more on him than he already had. After a moment of contemplating the best way of hoisting himself up without submitting back into the dirt, he somehow managed to find himself standing again. The whole ordeal reminded him of a newborn deer, it left him shaking like one as well. "Well, there you have it!" He said, rather triumphantly. The feeling lingered until he looked around for the man's home and dissipated when he realized that getting to places means walking. Yes, he was standing, but could he walk was a completely different matter.

He cleared his throat to detract from his hesitation. "Excuse my manners from before, I don't believe I caught your name, doctor."

⪼ ❈ ⪻

 

[CalamitousNag]

"Joshua," Maurycy quietly enunciated each syllable as he repeated the man's name. He watched the man, curious for any sign of trepidation or suspicion. He didn't immediately see any doubts and he was overjoyed when the man attempted to do his bidding.

Instinctively--and, perhaps, a remnant from the long forgotten "good" doctor within his soulless corpse--Maurycy reached out to steady the man as he rose. The man was strong. The vampire could practically hear the man's heart working viciously to supply blood to the working parts of his body. So entranced was he by the intimate sound of life, that Maurycy didn't fully register the man's exhaustion, thus appearing callous and cold as the man shook weakly before him.

Startling in realization, Maurycy rose to his feet, fingers nimbly reaching out to grasp the man and steady the man by the shirt at his waist. This Joshua sure sounded better than he looked. Again, it attested to an unseen strength that Maurycy couldn't wait to taste. Maurycy found himself looking up at the man, only coming to about Joshua's collar in height.

Joshua cleared his throat and Maurycy looked up to meet his eyes this time. Ah. So the human wished to know his name? Maurycy supposed the request was normal--humans often wanted to know who they were speaking to and, luckily, a name would betray none of Maurycy's true character.

"Maurice," Maurycy answered Joshua's question without hesitation--nor elaboration. The vampire began to walk around the man, making a show of surveying him. He noticed that the man appeared to favor one leg over the other. There was likely additional injury there, but he only cared for the source of the dried blood. Maurycy licked his lips.

The shorter man completed his survey and came back around to face Joshua. He gave the man a short-lived pensive expression before declaring: "You can't walk. I shall carry you."

Without even allowing the human the courtesy to decline his "offer," Maurycy stooped, braced one arm at the man's lower back and one behind his knees and hoisted the human bridal-style into his arms. It was certainly awkward, considering the height difference, but Maurycy was stout. He supported the extra weight as if it were nothing. Did it matter in the long run if the human were uneased by his preternatural strength? It wasn't as if he would live to see dawn.

"I live on the water. We will take a boat once we reach it. There are many snakes and lizards out here. If you cannot walk well, you are likely to get bitten. You are already injured enough," the vampire offered the explanation as if it were reasoning for his churlish actions.

Maurycy began to walk out of the clearing and towards the canopy of trees. The purity of blackness before them appeared alive and menacing. Maurycy saw it fit to put the human at ease with conversation.

"If you can remember, where are you from?"

The vampire felt a strange, sudden itching along the backs of his hands and arms. How peculiar... mosquitoes weren't inclined to nibble on him. The vampire chalked it up to the healing of scratches he might have gotten during his haste to intercept his victim. Certainly negligible.