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Subject: ‡Monster.I've.Become‡"


Author:
Erich Malcovosk
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Date Posted: 12/21/11 10:23:13pm
In reply to: Angelina Uris 's message, ": Angels & Demons :" on 12/21/11 12:24:17am






If there was any truth to the idea of an 'element' being associated with one's personality, for Erich, it had always been ice. He'd come from Yakutsk, a port city on the Lena River that was infamous for it's horrendously frigid temperatures. He'd been conditioned for the cold practically since his birth...it was simply a fact of life in his homeland. When he'd gone to Moscow, it had often been jested by his comrades that the ice of Yakutsk had followed him on his back, so severe and cold was his personality. In all truth, his demeanor had little to do with the location of his birth or even the undesirable upbringing he'd had in one of many overcrowded orphanages. It was, quite simply, pure genetics that had shaped his ruthless soul.

He gave a nod at Angelina's words, his arctic gaze touching briefly on the flesh of her neck as she spoke. Up until a couple of years ago, he would have lacked the restraint to leave her unharmed. He'd been a mindless killing machine after the change, and without a dominus to educate him, it had taken a very long time for him to contain the urges of his new body. Even after he had mastered how to avoid feeding whenever he wished, it had taken time to learn to control that other entity of his power. He'd quickly come to realize that while he was a vampire of the blood, he was just as thoroughly a vampire of the soul, as well. There'd been accidental human deaths because he'd been unaware of the depth of that power, and then later, how to control it. He could draw on the very soul of a being, feed from it and manipulate it until his host was left shruken, sucked dry of life just as if he'd pierced them with his fangs. It was an uncomfortable process to watch, even if he had been a seasoned warrior prior to his undeath. "One can never tell which way the winds will change. Or what they'll bring in when they do."

He saw the dare in the violet gaze of the blond, and knew from that instant that she was just as much a predator as he. Her lineage was a solid testament to that, if not the simple fact of her age. He studied her without reservation, trying to make sense of exactly what that lineage meant, though he'd already decided it would be wise to exercise a degree of caution with her. What she was capable of was unknown to him, and being a part of the supernatural world was still relatively new to him when faced with eternity. Even so, as he watched her, he found it increasingly difficult to deny that current that seemed to flow between them. He'd never felt such a thing, not in life or since...and he wasn't even drawing upon her energy! He'd been drawn to her just a certainly as a moth could be drawn to a flame. The thought was as intriguing as it was disconcerting.

"Perhaps it does. Likely, I presume." The movement of her long, lean leg drew his iced gaze briefly. It seemed he was just as starved as she when it came to encounters of the sexual sort. When he had been alive, he'd had firm control of his desires and had been able to quell them easily. Nothing like the simple crossing of a pair of long legs would have ever been allowed to inspire visions of said legs wrapped around him. Undeath had shaken that firm self control it seemed, for those were the exact thoughts that flickered through his mind just then. "Though I cannot attest to my nature. Beyond stealing life, you could say I am still putting the pieces together." The cold blue of his eyes had intensified following that second portion of her words, however--the prospect of a soft, warm, feminine body more appealing than he'd anticipated.

He lifted his glass, taking a drink from the water Angelina had provided him. While it was no substitute for what his body had truly begun to yearn for the moment he'd caught the scent of Angelina's lifeforce, it did help to wet the arid desert his throat had become. Setting the glass down, he extended a hand to the blond stranger. "Erich Malcovosk." That oddly lifeless gaze held just a note of curiosity as he introduced himself, interested in finding out more about this being.


____‡________‡__
The scars inside don't heal
The pain no more can I feel
I'm callous, alone, but unafraid
For better or worse I've changed
____‡_______‡___






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..::Beast and the Harlot::..Sabrina Snow12/22/11 12:32:39am


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