#fallenshepherd

  “ i’m not afraid of you. “  haurchefant’s stare is frank, carrying with it an edge of quiet grief mixed with unending relief.  there they are.  there they are, returned.  different, yes, but in the end it matters none.  “ no matter what happens, i consider you my friend, always. “

“  that  is  ...  a  lot  more  monsters  than  i  thought  would  be  here  ,  ”  ryne  muttered  uneasily  .  she  did  not  anticipate  for  this  when  she  agreed  to  this  little  quest  .  

100 nonverbal prompts

he stares at azem, and then the hand held out towards him.

are you sure?

the words are written upon a spare piece of parchment he’d found in his bag. held out for azem to see. he doesn’t know if it’s really him that azem wants to dance with, or if it’s someone behind him. he doesn’t look, doesn’t want to feel the crushing pain of disappointment when it’s truly not him.

really, who would want to dance with me of all people?

There would be no reply from Azem, curled on themself on the corner of the room, tense and silent and not even breathing. Not at first.

Then again, they thought bitterly, they had no need to breathe now. Not when they felt their own body coiled in tension, their throat burning and their very soul aching in the kind of hunger they'd only had heard described, before.

Azem had been a fool. They'd seen their chance, and they'd taken it. And they had failed, as one of the oldest vampires in existence had captured them instead.

They had known they would turn. Emet-Selch had told them, and then he'd sunk his fangs into their neck and Azem had felt every moment of it, from the first moment of pain until the last second of cold terror, then dread, and then nothing. And it still did not compare to the pain of turning.

They did not know if they'd screamed, and they did not know what they'd do if they moved. Their body felt too light, and their thoughts too single minded. Their sense of smell, far too sharp, and their instinct, in their panic, was to tackle the newcomer. The threat.

Azem stood still, because they'd been holding themself back far too long and so they could handle a moment more, before slowly raising their head. Sharp bronze eyes and a visage contorted by pain and fury would be what greeted Hythlodaeus, only halfway listening to their words.

All Azem wanted was to hurt something, and yet... slowly, very carefully, they formed one word. It felt strange, to speak through fangs.

"Why?"

Why would a vampire, particularly one who knew Emet-Selch, want to help his victim?

Then again, a little voice told them, Azem too was a vampire now. One of his. It made them sick.

A soft furrow of concern upon his brow, he watched as the newly made vampire curled on the corner, all tension and fury; understandable, of course, and he figures the question is to be expected. His own transformation had been a choice, and he had the one he trusted most to aid him throughout it, the Hades he knew and the Emet-Selch who Azem faced much too divergent facets of the same person. Now, even as a vampire, too much compassion remained within Hythlodaeus’ heart; he could not bear the idea of leaving the other to their own devices, knowing full well even with support the change was bound to be difficult.

“ The short answer is that I know what you are going through, ” There is no antagonism in voice nor demeanor, his answer simple and sincere. “ The pain, the way your body feels wrong, senses too sharp, movement too light, out of control. Instinct taking over when it feels your thoughts cannot quite follow fast enough. The urge to hunt, of course -- the thirst. And I know you, as a hunter, will be loathe to hurt anyone due to a lack of control. ”

" If it is my ties to Emet-Selch you mistrust, then know they too have a part in this. Believe it or not, he is not wont to be cruel. ” He admitted softly. The other was sure to not even want to hear it, with good reason, but they had inquired about his motives, and Hythlodaeus would offer the answer to them in full. Violet eyes upon the newly turned, he continues. “ I do not think he would delight in this after the anger has passed -- nevertheless, he is too proud to admit to a mistake, and ‘twould only serve to make you both suffer for it. Better to have an intermediary, is it not? This way, you need not struggle alone, and the situation needs not become as messy as he surely did not intend to make it. ”