#themonstrous

The last 24 hours, Sebastian caught a glimpse of the familiar angry scowl in his reflection. He said nothing, ignored him even. Pretended he didn’t exist in the same manner that Dom had to him. When his reflection became violent, he ignored him harder, although a flinch or two may have given him away.

The inevitable would come, and he knew it. Rian knew it. Dominic knew it. Dominic would get his time again, but not on his watch.

And the inevitable did happen. In one moment, Sebastian slept soundly with Rian nestled against his good shoulder. In the next, he was gone. Dominic opened his eyes, sliding his shoulder out from beneath Rian’s head and sat up slowly on the edge of the bed.

When Rian stirred, he stood up, careful with his wounds that had started to heal. They were still tender to the touch and he could not move smoothly yet, but he could function, and, as he glanced into the mirror to see his own reflection, he could shave. He went to the bathroom, using the wall lightly for support on his way, and quickly got to work to fix the mess that Sebastian had left him.

There's this one show that Brittany and I used to watch on her Netflix, and it said something really smart: Nothing good ever happens after 2AM.

Naturally, Tylan calls us at 3 AM to tell us that Nick's job had a job for us. I like Nick. He's a good guy. I hate his job. He works for Black Fox, a monster hunting/private eye corporation. Solving the mysteries of the world, one way or another.

We drove to his work and met a woman who I thought was his boss. She reminded me of a burrowing owl, like the types you'd see popping up and down in the deserts around Roswell. She didn't seem like the type to pay attention to you until she needed something important. Until that moment, she was deep in her burrow.

“Won’t be long now until we get to the Bed & Breakfast,” Dominic said, briefly licking his lips as a prelude before continuing to speak. He glanced at the handsome, dark-haired man sitting in the passenger seat of the white Tesla roadster sports car as the sped down the road through the country side. 0-60 in 1.9 seconds, that particular model was the fastest production car ever to break that speed in under 2 seconds. Of course, he had to have it. Though his hand still settled on the top of the wheel, it was on autopilot so that he could give his lover all of his attention at the drop of a hat if the moment if it was asked of him. His free hand sat casually on Rian’s knee, and his leather dress shoes tapped rhythmically to the jazz played softly in the background of the car.

“I know this isn’t our normal type of activity when we’re together,” Dominic grinned at him, fondly thinking about their usual activities, often involving lavish parties where they were glued to one another half the time. The other half of it was spent partly on his usual charming networking to acquire powerful new connections, and the rest spent looking for more opportunities to experience everything life had to offer. “A business partner suggested this place. It’s quiet, but luxurious. I made sure of that before booking. Nothing less but the best for my prince,” He squeezed his knee, now barely looking at the road as he turned his head to gaze at him, confident in the car to keep them steady on the road. “I don’t know when I’ll be back from business soon. I’m going overseas again, so it might be awhile. I wanted a few quiet days of nothing but time with you first.”

Before he had to lock his body in a cell first to keep it from running away while he rested for his trip.

@themonstrous​

Dissatisfaction. 

No better word could describe the state of Dominic’s empty soul better. He craved, and he craved, but little could fill the giant, gaping hole that burrowed deep into his heart. Something was missing - a key element to making him feel complete. It was on the tip of his tongue, always an inch within his grasp but still out of his reach.

 At first, he’d thought his perpetual craving was a result of his imprisonment of millennium. Only a small handful memories had survived the countless years; moments his rage could never let go of, replaying them so many times in his mind that they eroded the sweeter memories of his past. 

An exotic wood table detailed with sacred mountain images, cranes and clouds, and flowers broken on pieces on the floor. 

The sleeves of an elegant, silk paoshin robe splattered with blood.

A ceremonial teapot smashed against the wall.

Distant screams.

Only a far wall mirror ornate with jade dragons let him watch the final moments his host fade from the world as he was sucked back into the confinements of his mirror.

After searching and searching museums to identify the time period of the brief instances that boiled in his mind, he found near identical similarities in Chinese culture. The Song Dynasty had not been kind to him. Zhao Kuangyin - emperor of the Song Dynasty - had come to power with him, but it was his exposure of his weaknesses without him that lead to both of their end. While now-Dominic slept, Taizong - his younger brother - murdered him and locked away Dominic’s possessed mirror with strong talismans.

A millennium was a long time to be alone.

It made it easy to justify his insatiable needs. Dominic had been starved of life, and now his existence was driven to live every second of it. As he explored the new and strange modern world, he did as he pleased. But quickly, he found himself dissatisfied with simply living extravagantly and wildly. The craving still lingered, like a heavy cloud fogging his ability to fully enjoy life. Something was missing.

Second, he thought perhaps he longed the memories his rage and time had robbed him of. He recalled the strong, vibrant feeling of being in countless battles - a broad sword fitting so comfortably into his hands that it was like an extension of his very being. But when he tried to recall more, there was a block. Strong emotions would wash over him, but he could not stir up more than that. 

When he could, he searched museum after museum tirelessly, walking at a fast pace as he scanned weapons, armor, wardrobes, and paintings throughout history to look for anything he recognized. He’d missed the renaissance era - which was a shame - he would have had so much fun then - but many relics of the past as far back as middle ages, to ancient history with the Greeks, Romans and Egyptians had an air of familiarity about them.

The moment he’d laid eyes on a broadsword he recognized, he arranged for a thief to acquire it for him.

So much searching, but still, he could not fill his craving. Something was missing. It was an itch he could not scratch, a hunger he could not satiate, and he could find it nowhere in the world.

Something was missing, and the way he’d stare off into the distance, puzzling over the unsolvable emptiness, shared his perpetual dissatisfaction loudly to anyone who happened to look his way at the right moment. 

Something was missing, and he’d do anything to find it.

Ache & pain.

That’s all Ash ever felt anymore. He tried to hide it from his brother to keep him from worrying, but his endeavors to suppress his discomfort visually often made him irritable and unpleasant. He’d been absolutely awful to Grey lately, and his guilt over it only seemed to make him act worse. Before he’d calm his senses enough to apologize, the light-haired twin would often get so worked up over it that it was easier to storm out the room than it was to say he was sorry. 

‘Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll apologize,’ he told himself again and again. But tomorrow always seemed to be another day away.

Ash stood over a small cauldron on the old, mahogany wood table tucked away into the hidden cavern that Arawn had helped him repurpose for a laboratory for privacy reasons. The soft pitter patter of rain echoed quietly across the rocky ceilings, occasionally interrupted by the distant roar of thunder lingering on the horizon as a storm approached. Each time the thunder grew louder, the strange creatures of various sizes and types would screech in their cages, their noises grinding on Ash’s last nerve until he’d lash out and throw the nearest non-breakable object at them. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he yelled at first, but his volume trailed off quickly, knowing it was a fruitless plea from someone who threatened their very existence. 

Both of Ash’s hands were on the table, supporting his weight and keeping him upright as he tried to continue tirelessly on his work. He felt it in his bones; he was running out of time. By his childhood doctor’s decree, he was running already on borrowed time. He felt it nearly every waking minute now -- and when he didn’t, a cough of blood would give him a stark reminder of his impending fate if he could not come up with a solution to cure himself or extend his life. Preferably indefinitely. 

Darkness.

It smothered his lungs like ash and soot. It swallowed him whole. When he was in it, he was nothing. He ceased to exist. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t yell. His voice locked up inside of him like lost treasure sunken to the bottom of the sea.

Only glimpses of the world materialized before his eyes, springing him back into existence briefly, but often only to be met by the challenging glare of his own face looking back at him. Willing him to submit with the fury and fire in his gaze until he subverted his stare and lowered his eyes to the ground.

There were times when Dominic would look at his own reflection, only to see if Sebastian was looking. Looking at his life, looking at his prize. He would show him what was his, and tightly grasp onto it to prove his point and send the message home.

Sebastian was dead to the world. Only Dominic lived.

He tried to be patient. Patiently waiting the moment that Dominic’s grip on him would loosen, as it always did, after an extended period of time. Whatever magics that willed the malevolent mind into his existence always seemed to make sure of that. Dominic was not all powerful. He had limitations of the flesh, and had to sleep and rest. It was then that his iron grip would loosen, and Sebastian could leap back into the world, if only for awhile.

He wanted to see Rian again, if nothing else. He just had to be patient. He just had to be patient.

That thought whispered in his head again and again until the moment finally came. It took weeks this time before Dominic was finally forced to stop, and Sebastian shuddered to wonder the lengths he had gone to stay awake towards the end of it.

Sebastian’s eyes sprung open wide, jutting up from the single mattress he laid on, his hands grasping at his neck as he struggled to breathe again as he was thrust back into the world. But, something was wrong. The world was dark, and dim. Small. He was in a tiny room, only big enough to fit a mattress. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he noticed a small fridge nestled into the wall of the room near the door where a keypad lock faced inside.

Immediately, Sebastian panicked, jumping up from the bed and rushing the door. He grabbed at the doorknob but it didn’t budge. Locked. He knelt down to the key pad and tried various number combinations to try to unlock it, but every attempt triggered a bright red light to flash in his face.

“No -- no, no, no,” Sebastian muttered fearfully, looking around the dim room now for any other option, but his eyes trained on something moving. The walls were lined with mirrors, and immediately opposite him, he saw his oppressor wearing his skin starring smugly at him through the glass. 

There was anger on his face that he’d never seen before. He didn’t know that he was even capable of looking so angry, and it chilled him to the bone, lifting the hair on the back of his neck and down his forearms. Before Sebastian could speak, his reflection’s face twisted into violent rage as he reeled back onto his back foot and threw his first at the mirror. A crack splintered through the glass despite no physical contact being made. The walls shook, and Sebastian fell back onto the floor, startled and afraid. 

“You shouldn’t have done what you did,” his reflection said, his own mouth only moving to frown in distress. Dominic glared at him, the dimness in the room casting shadows around his features in a way that made him look almost hellish and dead inside. “I tried to be kind to you, and you spat in my face by trying to get rid of me. Despite that, I gave you a space to paint and you’d never have to worry about food or shelter again if you just stayed put and minded your place -- but you spat on that kindness too, didn’t you?”

Sebastian starred at him, eyes wide and misty under the pressure and fear tightening his chest. “This is my body, I -- I get to decide what to do,” he tried to yell back at his reflection unconvincingly, but it prompted it to bellow with laughter.

“Your body? You gave up rights long ago. This is my body now. I make the decisions, and I decided that you’ll be waking up in here where I can keep you from interfering with my work, my life, and my lover,” Dominic hissed at him, his voice growing louder as he hit the sore subject that had been his last straw, sealing the deal on Sebastian’s fate.

“You can’t -- you can’t do that-” Sebastian started, but Dominic quickly interrupted him. “But I already have. Give it up. Give up control to me and we won’t have to be in here,” he paused, correcting himself, ”I won’t have to be in here stuck with you. You’ll be nothin’, but I promise you, that’s better than the alternative of being stuck here with me.”

“I’ll make every moment your eyes are open a living hell. You can count on that.”

Sebastian snatched his eyes shut to make him disappear, the motion making the tears in his eyes escape down his cheeks. He slid to the ground in his despair, doing everything he could to keep his eyes closed. Anywhere he could look in the room there was a mirror.