#rozuru

Rose arched a golden brow and turned his head to the right to fix Izuru with an amused look.

“Impatient are we? I thought you didn’t like places like this.”

“I don’t,” Izuru said shortly, eyeing the doors with a look of resignation.

“Ah, I do apologize, Izuru, but we don’t have much choice with that group of hunters nosing around our usual haunt all of a sudden,” Rose said sincerely, reaching out to stroke Izuru’s cheek. Izuru leaned back, deftly dodging Rose’s fingers, and shot him as stern of a look as he could muster.

Part of Izuru wanted to lean into the touch, but the thought of doing so in public mildly horrified the young man. This was less from any sense of propriety and more because Izuru viewed himself as being far inferior to Rose in every way, and couldn’t bring himself to face the inevitable humiliation it would cause when someone decided to point it out. Rose, of course didn’t see it that way at all. He brushed the small of Izuru’s back with his fingers, prompting his human companion to lead the way.

Rose checked a sigh as he watched Izuru walk, head down and shoulders curled forward, his thumbs still hooked into the pockets of the form-fitting black jeans Rose had insisted he wear. Izuru had put up quite the protest when he saw the carefully tailored rips that ran up both front and back of the thighs, like a ladder of darkness against his porcelain skin. He’d flatly refused to wear the shiny silver poet’s shirt that showed off the delicate arch of his collarbones, finally consenting to wear an over-sized band tee shirt with a set of wide studded leather bracelets…and a matching collar. The latter Rose had insisted on for 'safety purposes,' something he didn’t bother to expound upon, partly to avoid making Izuru unnecessarily anxious, but mostly to see the adorable look of annoyed consternation he often made.

When he reached the top of the steps, Izuru hesitated and looked back over his shoulder at Rose his large honey colored eyes seeking silent reassurance. For the space of a heart beat, a child-like uncertainty softened Izuru’s typical reserved expression. It was enough to make the breath catch in Rose’s long dead chest. The light from the sign illuminated Izuru’s pale hair like a technicolor halo, the vivid colors contrasting the sharpness of his perfectly symmetrical features. Izuru wore a beautiful melancholy around his lean frame and slender fingers, Rose wondered how Izuru could ever see himself as anything but beautiful.

Rose favored Izuru with a bemused smiled as he stepped past and pulled open the heavy door. Izuru dutifully, if sullenly, followed behind. He nearly ran into Rose’s back the moment he looked up. Where Izuru expected to see elegant columns and sweeping arches he was instead greeted with a cheaply built room that was completely incongruous with the rest of the structure. The black painted cinder block wall which now isolated the narthex was covered in an excessive amount of graffiti that glowed in a hideous rainbow of neon colors under the black lights suspended from the low ceiling.

One end of the room was sectioned off by a plywood wall with a plexiglass covered window. A girl that looked no older than twenty-one at best smirked at them, blowing a bubble with her gum and letting it burst with loud pop. She had the fashion sense of a cheap hooker, and if the size of her pupils was any indication, the drug habits of one, too. Two men best described as ‘beefy’ sat on a folding chairs in opposite corners, one with his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed them with a half scowl.

‘Bouncers,’ Izuru observed silently, forcing himself to relax. It wouldn’t do them any good if he looked ready for a fight. Still, he kept the men in his peripheral vision, only distantly aware of the conversation Rose was having with the girl behind the counter. Something about those two made his spine prickle, and he couldn’t place why, which just made it worse. At first, Izuru thought that they might be like him, still human, but enhanced—stronger and faster with sharper acuity thanks to the influence of vampiric intervention— but if they were, he couldn’t sense it.

“Izuru. Your hand.”

“Uh, huh? Oh…” Rose’s voice cut through his rumination, and Izuru sheepishly extended his arm, holding his hand under the gap in the plexiglass so the attendant could stamp it now that Rose had paid the cover charge. She grabbed his hand, holding it a little too tightly and taking longer than necessary to mark the back of it. He glanced over to see Rose wearing an unreadable expression as he reached out to hook a finger into the ring on the collar around Izuru’s neck. Izuru could feel his face warm; he’d completely forgotten he was wearing the damned thing! The girl snorted out a mocking laugh and aimed an unsettling leer at Izuru, eyeing him from head to toe before letting him go, Rose having made his point, and Izuru was more than happy to let Rose lead him by the neck for a few feet if it meant getting away from her.

One of the bouncers stood and unlocked the metal door leading into the club proper before shoving it open. Immediately, their senses were assaulted by the full force of the sights, sounds, and smells that had overflowed the venue to welcome its visitors, even outside the door. The cathedral’s high, vaulted ceiling was a riot of colors and seizure-inducing LEDs that pierced the haze of rising smoke as they flashed in time with the buzz of over sampled bass guitars and bone-jarring electronic drums. The music was so ungodly loud that it could wake the dead, or at least annoy them. Bodies filled the large space, most writhing and gyrating to the beat of the obscenely loud music, others swaying to the unheard beat of whatever drugs were coursing through their systems.

Izuru fervently hoped Rose was able to find a suitable ‘donor’ in this place without having to resort to taking drug-laced blood, always a risky and often unpleasant experience when done blindly and in public, and the though was enough to have Izuru scanning for other routes of egress. The inside of the cruciform cathedral had been almost completely refitted. A large bar occupied the north transept, booths packed with strung out people from barely legal to the disillusioned middle-aged lined the south transept and south aisle, and a raised stage filled the chancel. Unsurprisingly, the large DJ’s booth was sitting squarely over the spot where the altar would have been, but to Izuru’s dismay, there was no secondary exit in sight.

The only thing that remained largely unchanged were the enormous stained glass windows. The glass triptych behind the DJ booth was lit from the outside so that the crucifixion of Christ was on full exhibit, the religious iconography turned from divine to macabre by its current surroundings. Izuru quickly looked elsewhere, a slightly queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d never been a particularly religious man himself, but there was something distinctly disturbing about the display.

He glanced over at Rose, who appeared unbothered as his violet eyes scanned the room. A corner of Izuru’s lips quirked up in self-deprecation at the irony. That he should be affected by such a thing while he literally walked alongside a monster out of a children’s fairy tale was almost laughable, especially given his own altered nature. He was almost 50 years old, but looked no more than 30, aging having slowed significantly for him thanks to Rose’s blood flowing in his veins. He’d been with Rose and his coven of vampires for three decades now, ever since he came of age, but before that, Rose had been a mysterious benefactor, an estranged relative come to pluck him out of the gutter where he was orphaned and starving. Now, he knew Rose was no such thing as a relative, of course. In fact, Izuru couldn’t recall their first… intense interaction after he’d become and adult without a blush creeping up his neck.

Rose’s hand on the small of his back jolted Izuru’s attention back to Rose, the blush spreading to his cheeks given what he’d just been remembering. Rose arched a brow at Izuru, a knowing smirk lifting one corner of his full lips, and a quiet chuckle floated through Izuru’s mind. Thanks to the amount of times Rose has shared his blood, Izuru had reached the point of being able to hear Rose’s thoughts years ago, when Rose chose to share them that was, but it was still disconcerting when it happened without warning.

“Come, Izuru. There should be better…candidates downstairs.”

“Downst— But isn’t that where the…?” Izuru shot Rose an incredulous look, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“…the adult novelty store and BDSM club are?” Rose finished helpfully, the comment followed by another of his musical, tenor chuckles, the kind that always did funny things to Izuru’s insides. “Yes, that’s exactly where we’re going. The employees are required to be sober, lest they suffer more bad press and legal complications from another ‘overexcited’ dominatrix, shall we say.” With this, Rose gave Izuru a gentle push to get his feet moving.

When they waded into the sea of sweaty humanity and wandering hands that stood between them and the door leading down to what was once the church’s catacombs, Rose shuffled Izuru in front of him, one hand resting protectively on the younger man’s hip, the other rising to hook a finger through the D-ring Izuru’s collar, making his claim clear. Neither of these things turned out to be strictly necessary, however, as the crush of bodies separated around them like a subtle version of the parting of the Red Sea, just enough to keep grabby hands at bay, but not enough to attract attention. Thus, they made it around the bar and through the heavy steel door marked with the name of the establishment below without mishap or delay.

“Do you really have to keep holding on to that thing?” Izuru griped under his breath, feeling the tug of the collar against his throat that stopped him from heading down the steps.

“I go first,” Rose replied softly, his tone brooking no argument. The echo of their footsteps bouncing off the concrete walls of the stairwell resumed as Izuru fell in behind the taller man and carried on far longer than Izuru expected; the stairway felt endless.

“Where is this place? Center of the Earth?” Izuru muttered.

“The dead were buried deep here. Surface humidity and all of that.”

Izuru missed the last step and had to grab Rose’s shoulder to keep from falling on his ass. Rose looked over his shoulder with an impishly patronizing smile.

“Don’t worry, darling. Exhumed. At least the ones they knew about,” Rose said breezily before descending the last few steps and opening another heavy door.

The inside of the adult novelty establishment was about what Izuru had expected, dim florescent lighting, lots of red and purple neon lights, and a distinct lack of black lights. The kink section was notably more sizable than most places and wearable items that weren’t packaged as being disposable were completely absent from the merchandise. Two more burly men, like the ones at the front doors, were manning the counter which was enclosed by what appeared to be bullet proof glass. Well.. that didn’t make Izuru nervous. No, not at all.

The one thing that did make Izuru feel a bit better was the exit sign lighting the top of a door frame on the opposite side of the store. At least there was another way out. From the other signage posted nearby, it seemed to lead to the strip club in the old convent building. Perhaps this is why it wasn’t a surprize when three women, two scantily clad, and a man with brightly colored blue hair came in from that direction. He felt Rose tense, which did surprise Izuru a great deal, and that made every hair on his body stand on end.

Rose pulled a braided leather leash from somewhere on his person, and Izuru heard it connect to the collar around his neck with a metallic snap. He opened his mouth to say something and immediately closed it again when the woman—noman—with pink hair stopped abruptly and turned to look at him. The white rectangular frames of his glasses did less than nothing to make the man seem less androgynous… or less attractive.

“Oh, look Grimmjow. Well, isn’t this a surprise!” he practically purred.

“Eh? What are you on a— Weeeell. If it ain’t one of those guys from the West side. Thought you guys were too righteous for a place like this?” The man with the powder-blue, Billy Idol hair cut was now focused on them as well, the strippers they had in tow obediently coming to a halt as if hypnotyzed.

“Oh, look. Master Rose has himself a puppy. I do like puppies. Does he bite?” The pink-haired man took a few steps in their direction, his tone of voice saying he very much hoped that Izuru did bite. Blue-hair chuckled darkly at the look of recognition that flashed across Izuru’s face before he could stop it.

“Shit,” the word slipped out under Izuru’s breath. These were vampires… from the rival Las Noches coven, a nasty bunch with little regard for laws, less regard for human life, and a leader that was both intelligent and powerful, and who had an abundance of patience for planning his goal: dominion over all of the undead and the rest of the world by proxy.

“Quiet.” came Rose’s sharp mental admonishment. “Ahh, he’s too well behaved to bite, I’m afraid, but his master might… under the right circumstances,” Rose said smoothly out loud. His friendly tone did nothing to hide the threat implicit in his words: touch what is mine and suffer the consequences.

The tension in the room rose exponentially, and the two men behind the shop’s counter shuffled warily on their stools. The blue-haired vampire curled his lip and took a step forward, hostility plain in his posture. Izuru stepped behind Rose on reflex, doing as he’d been instructed to do in such a situation, and the pink-haired vampire threw his arm out to block his companions way.

“Now, now. Think for a minute. They’re just here for same thing we are, isn’t that right gentlemen?” he said, the last a rhetorical question addressed to Rose and Izuru. “Don’t make trouble where there isn’t any, Grimmjow. I, for one, would like to enjoy myself for a while instead of picking a fight that Aizen might rip a limb off of me for later.”

“Fuck you, Szayel,” Grimmjow spat, clearly more annoyed with his coven mate than Rose now. He turned, grabbing one of the strippers by the upper arm and shoving her toward the door that lead into the back rooms, ramming Szayel hard with his shoulder on the way past.

“I assure you, I’m only here for similar… ‘entertainments’ and have no intention of creating any trouble… so long as no one causes any for us,” Rose said with a small bow, waving the other vampire and his glassy-eyed stripper ahead.

“I thought as much. Those people certainly are making life difficult these days, hm? Anyway, I’m sure that Nnoitra and Ulquiorra will be happy to spare one or two for you and your man. He’s such a delicious little thing, almost as nice as Nnoitra’s new plaything. I can see why you want to keep him around,” Szayel said, leaning to the side and eyeing Izuru with a salacious grin before turning and escorting his own prize into the back room.