Longer Than Years

[The Collector]

Closed to The Bloody Son

He woke up in the Citadel. Life from Scara Brae to this place had been a blur. As the behemoth of a man lay spread across the stone floor of the great ziggurat, staring at the ceiling, memories were coming back in bits and pieces. He'd come over on a midnight ferry, the only lost soul staring into the sea as they crossed to the larger island. Even then, in the dead of night, Radasanth had been alive. He'd walked like a ghost through the streets, his mind muddled and something within his soul pulling him step by step towards a looming building. The scraping of his sandals against the stone steps had been so loud in his mind, as if every movement was the scrape of his skin being pulled off. When at last he'd come to the zenith, he gasped and fell into a dark hallway. Entering this place had been like being born anew. He'd fallen into a more peaceful sleep than he'd had for years.

Now dark eyes were blinking open, blurred by the muck the Sandman had salted them with. When he'd raised a large hand to clear away the grit, he looked around again. A hall of doors was laid before him, each attended by an orange robed monk. Jager's head rolled upwards, to the door closest to him and the bald warrior who stood beside it.

"What's in that room?" he asked, his rumbling voice echoing around them.

"Nothing, as yet." came the answer. It was soft and amused. Anger came bubbling up at what seemed like nonsense, and Jager shuffled to his feet. His hand fell to his side, the thumb hooking into the leather belt. He could feel the rough rusting metal of the big meat hook hanging there. Glaring at the monk, he vowed that if the man had been lying, he would use it to carve a hole in his throat. As he shoved by the monk and ripped the door open, a burst of pain went through his temple.

The first glance past the opening door had been the most confusing. Jager was absolutely sure he had, in fact, been looking at nothing. Then, as he stepped into the great expanse devoid of anything, things changed so quickly that his eyes crossed. No longer was he in the stone temple. The open night sky was far overhead, but directly around was a familiar sight.

It was the ship's kitchen, back on the Skarver. Fear filled Jager as he looked around at the long counters and wood oven. The fire inside crackled merrily, warming the room. Barrels of salt and flour were shoved up against the walls, crates of tart fruits and jars of pickled vegetables lining some of the counters, roped against the wall so the movement of the room wouldn't send them sliding to the floor. The cold locker was open, the view inside obstructed by it's own swinging door.

As Jager crossed the room, he could see the fish hanging up in the small locker, an open space where a hook had been ripped from where it hung. Instinctively, the giant of a man stroked his weapon, a look of horror and fear dawning on his face. Crumpled in the bottom of the locker, lay a body. It was a woman, a little older and pale with death. Faced once again with his sins, Jager whirled around, but found the door by which he'd entered this nightmare to be gone. He was trapped, bound now to this place that haunted his nightmares. A mournful wail escaped his throat.

"What demon did this?!" he finally cried out to the silence that hid behind the crackling of the fire. He would not need to wait long for his answer.

[The Bloody Son]

The seafarer entered the choice field and the vampire was silent at his perch. The tendrils of sunshine spiraled around the giant man's face and tried to hide his apparent frustration and sorrow. The pallid fleshed boy watched on as the man confronted his own evil inside the rocking vessel. The seas outside seemingly haunting the man for his poor choice of actions and only crashed it's salty fury harder against the stern and starboard side. Cellius rocked slowly with the motions, too and fro, as he sat upon the counter behind the man - no more than thirty feet away on a nice, bloody butcher block. Even the fish guts still lay strewn about the counter, in an abhorrent mess and the cleanly skinned bodies lay soaking in the ice-filled sink. The hulkish man yelled outright to anyone who seemed to be listening and this cued the boy to speak.

Between the two men was a large galley island, covered with spice racks, knifes, and other sorts of cooking utensils that were inside of nailed-down cages so that when the violent rocking of the boat occurred in the darkest of nights or the brightest of days - the tools of a cooks trade were not throw ever so projectilish and haphazard across the Galley. The boy sighed from the back wall toward the man on the far side near the fish locker, audibly enough.

"You are your own demon, stranger. You obviously have a lot on your mind - guilty and a murderer it seems..." Cell shook his head slowly and made a 'tsk tsk' noise with an index finger swinging back and forth - schooling a human child for his ignorance and rage-a-holic self. Cell watched this mastiff of a man move about and worried instantly whether he should have let his opponent pick the playing field or not. The man knew the ship better than he, and that put him at a disadvantage and on top of this obvious fact, he was huge! Cellius figured this beast of a man was easily a foot or so taller than he was and that weapon at his side didn't look friendly in the slightest...

Trying not to let the worry etch his face, the vampire slid from his sitting place and looked to the floor beyond the man. "Why'd you do it, blondie? A woman. Defenseless. Frail. Look how big she is compared to you..." Cellius was just asking the obvious questions, that he didn't know - but not understanding the human customs and ways, he hadn't any idea how rude and instigating he was really being...



:: :: :: :: ::


"You did well in the battle, Vamp. Your popularity is slowly growing in the Citadel. Did you want us to set you up a room here and let another fighter come to you?" The monk whom was bandaging the young man began speaking softly and inquiring about his next activity. He smiled and his Cantonese-expressions and handsome, round face put Cell at ease and he nodded slowly.
"Sure... thank you."

"Did you have any preferences, Vamp?" Most of the monks around the place had starting calling him by his race, as a title, versus a disgraceful notion. He was what he was and though he'd lost to Vincent before - they respected him for his heart... Maybe this time he would please his father in battle... to show his true colors as a VanGras.

"No, sir. I'll await in the room - have my opponent decide his own fate." Cell was confident and comfortable in his new bandages and slipped from the hospital bed that he was seated on. The cotton, white shirt thrown over his torso and sword laced around his waist again, the youth moved from the room to the left.

"Sir. You're scheduled in the Memory Rooms. All other's were taken currently."

"Memory Rooms?" The blood sucker inquired.

"Yes, your environment will be based around the conscious thought and past of your rival. Even he may not consciously choose it... be careful for these battles could be nightmares..."

"Lovely ... " Cellius sighed, moving down the dank, cobblestone hallway toward the memory rooms. His eyes focused to the shrouded lights and dim ambiance of the hall, watching few people walk in and out around the pod of rooms - each watching him as he moved to the memory rooms with a bewildered look. Only the craziest go into these rooms apparently ...

[The Collector]

He turned, raising himself to his full height as his barrel chest expanded with a gasp. Tortured eyes landed upon the boy who sat upon the table. Jager took in the boy's appearance, his expression finally softening. This young man was beautiful. There was something in his alabaster skin and the way he held himself that brought light to the darkness that ate the larger man inside. He looked over to where Renata lay, blood around her body like a dark sea that had come to swallow her up.

The scenes inside his head distorted, twisting and he couldn't remember where this was anymore. Where were the stone walls again? He was sure he remembered priests, too, with sly smiles and too much knowledge in their eyes. He looked around again, gently grabbing an encaged spice rack as the room lurched slowly. The fallen woman caught his eye once again and her blood rolled to his feet on the floor.

"I had to kill her," Jager said softly. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, saltier than the sea, distorting everything to blurs. "Because..." He had only been sure of the fact that he had to kill her. The why was as far away as all his clarities. His mind clicked and he knew why he'd slain the ship's captain.

"She tried to take you away from me!" he gasped, looking at Cellius. "But I won't let her have you!"

Now he held his arms out, stumbling towards the vampire with a pleading look on his tanned features. One sandal, the cream colored rope stained a darkening crimson by the blood on the floor, slipped and he fell to his knees. The bone cracked against the wood and now Jager was crawling, staring at the boy through long limp golden locks. They were like bars of a cage that couldn't hold him back, no matter how they tried.

One meaty hand reached for Cellius' foot, while he murmured. "You're mine. You've always been mine."

[The Bloody Son]

The waves crashed against the boat and everything inside lurched violently too and fro. The man slipped on the blood and his words began to creep the boy out severely - the waves having knocked him off balance and to the ground and Cellius maintained himself, leaning back and taking a step out of the way of the man's saucer-sized hand. The brow of the vampire was all sorts of tangled and twisted with wrinkles and creases that would have made an old woman gawk. Cellius' hands slid along the butcher block counter top, moving slowly away from the weird man and his eggshell linen shirt dragging loosely behind him.

Cellius looked around to the walls as they began to roll and morph like the movements of a serpent. As Jager's memories pierced his head in confusion, the walls slithered from standard vertical panels of dense forest cedar to cobbled, egg shaped stones that were mortared into place and every so often a picture frame would emerge with some friar looking fellows. They had devious smiles and twinkling eyes that made Cellius even more uncomfortable than he really was.

"Whoa! Whoa! WHOA! Hold on there, big fella! I'm not who you think I am! I am the Vampire Cellius of the VanGras family. You stay away ... or ... or I'll defend myself!" The boy hadn't any idea what else to say other than that. This titan was easily two feet taller than he was and out weighed him by more than a hundred pounds, at least! He'd hand to slice the man up, if he was to get away from this crazy and get out of this stupid Memory Room. The look in the caramel fleshed man's eyes was that of a wanton hunger - something he'd longed for but couldn't receive - wanted, but couldn't have... and now that he thought he was so close, Jager came for Cellius.

What have I gotten myself INTO?!

[The Collector]

Stumbling to his feet, Jager grinned. Now he had a name. The transfiguration bits of the room was subjected to meant nothing to him. He'd remembered stone, so why wouldn't there be pieces of mortared wall hung with portraits? The most important problem in his mind was the fact that the pallid boy seemed to be afraid of something. Worry seeped deeply into the old sailor's bones. What would he do if his lover was afraid of him? He hated the corpse in the corner even more now, for it was his duty to his love that caused him fear. If only she hadn't come between them! He would curse her name forever, if only he could remember what it was.

"Cellius, Cellius!" Jager cried, holding his hand over his heart. His fingers clutched at the loose white fabric, pulling it into his fist as if there were an ache contained under it more painful than any he had ever felt. True suffering was laced in his voice, deep and endless as the ocean waters he'd sailed in his life.

"Do not turn away from me, for you are the only light I have in my life. Love me as I know you love me!" Tears began pouring from black eyes as he rushed at the vampire, his pleadings having turned to a great roar as he sprung forth.

"You cannot leave!"

[The Bloody Son]

Sorrow and desire etched his harmonic voice and Jager seemed starved for this attention and love. Cellius thought for a moment and just a moment that if he did comfort the man and then gut him like a fish - then it would end this stupid battle and he could remember never to step into these stupid Memory rooms again. Cell didn't want to imagine how crazy his partner would go, if he stepped into the VanGras' past...

Spilling his need for the alabaster prince, Jager moved from what looked to be a crawl to a standing-stumbling-lunge of sorts that sent him rushing in close quarter to Cellius. In the moment that he reacted, the vampire sidestepped and slid his hand across the counter for anything he could get a hold of to fight this man off. His blindly swung digits curled around some sort of handle and as Cell moved to the right to head into the middle of the kitchen, around the large island in the middle - he swung the object.

You've got to be kidding me...

When the object came into view and Jager passed the boy through his lunge, Cellius went to smack the man in his back - but only came around with a two foot spatula that was used for lobster cooking on deck. The metal handle might sting a bit, but the power of the swing might break the skin if it hit right, but the chances are that this spatula wouldn't do shit in the long run...

Cellius took a few more steps into the kitchen and surveyed quickly with his peripherals. Behind him was the frozen fish locker and to his right was the island as he moved backwards away from the blond giant. To his left in the corner was the stairs, which he assumed either went down into the boat or up to the deck...both would get him away from this ... maniac. Cellius didn't think the guy was a homosexual - but his raging intent made him seem that way - but after all, this was a Memory - maybe he was lost in his thoughts.

"Hey ... hey. I'm not leaving. Calm down and talk to me. I don't even know your name!
What is it you want from me - I'm not the person you think I am!" The vampire sighed heavily and raised his hands to calm the beast down and see if he couldn't talk some intelligence into him.

[The Collector]

"How can you not know my name?" he asked, his laugh bubbling up from his chest. Even as Cellius backed away, Jager advanced. It was the slow stalking of a predator now, for he knew exactly in his mind what he wanted. His laughter died quietly, the smile still there. Was his lover playing games on him? He couldn't be serious, after all. Jager had memories in his mind about the vampire. Laying in the moonlight, the salty sea air all around. The tide was coming in, cold water giving his feet chilly caresses and then he'd turn his head and look at his lover in the moonlight. The scene was completing, behind the silhouette of someone, lone wavering palm trees were keeping watch. Jager was sure that the dark shape in his memory was Cellius. Indeed, even as his reveries were completing the picture of lovers curled together under the stars, he could see Cellius' dark hair and thin fingers tracing shapes upon Jager's bare belly.

His footsteps faltered and he stared at Cellius for long moments. Suddenly, it dawned upon the seaman that the boy wasn't joking. There wasn't a hint of humor on the vampire's face, only pity and discomfort. He truly must have forgotten all their love for one another. Jager's face hardened, his thumbs hooking into his belt loops. Cellius had gone mad, out here on the sea where the ocean was one endless wave after another. The only question in his mind was whether he'd burn the body to ashes or let the sea claim his body as it had taken his mind.

"What I do," Jager said, his voice choked and emerging as barely a whisper, "I do for love." He pulled the meat hook from his side. Dark and rusting, it gleamed as something matte black should not be able to do. The red spots of rust caught the light as Jager sprang forward again, swinging the hook towards Cellius' mouth. It was an attack fitting only of a fisherman, and while much had been changing within his mind, old habits died hard.

[The Bloody Son]

As the man spoke, chills ran up the blood thief's spine and he shuddered slightly at the total derangement of this fool. What the hell is up with humans?! Cellius stood wide eyed and a little stunned at the freakish behavior of the titan of a man before him - yet before Cell knew what was going on, the man lurched with a lumbering giant's speed. With smooth action, the hook was drawn from the sailor's hip and swung full speed toward Cellius in a rage-filled fit of misunderstanding, confusion, and delusion.

Out of a stumbling reaction, Cell grabbed both sides of the spatula still in hand and lifted it to catch the hook in mid swing before falling backwards. The spike nearly stabbed the boy in the face, yet the momentum of the giant and the fall of the boy backwards landed Cell on his back. With the sway of the boat and the motions that they'd been weaving too - the ship seemed to rock in favor of Cell's fall - causing him to slide on his back toward the meat locker, but the spatula still gripped by the hook, Cellius tried to kick his feet up into the abdomen of Jager.
If the dance were to complete, Cellius would use the natural roll of his body and the movement of the ship, with the wild deflection of the spatula to throw the man over his body like a flesh missile toward the back cabinets and kitchen utensils. Whether it would work or not, Cellius hadn't an idea nor any idea what he was doing - all he knew was that he had a spatula in hand, that didn't phase the man when he was hit by it and now he was using it as a defensive tool...

Dear Spatula, don't fail me now...