Luka Rhys Delaney (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
desperatebeliever) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
noirenewyork2014-02-26 10:38 pm
desperatebeliever) wrote in noirenewyork2014-02-26 10:38 pm
@ muserevival // 057.1. Muse prompt
HERE @ muserevival
"Sleep will not come to this tired body now
Peace will not come to this lonely heart
There are some things I'll live without
But I want you to know that I need you right now."
In The Arms of Sleep, Smashing Pumpkins
Luka had lost track of the days and especially the time of day. His own body clock had been up the shit for months now, and in that sense, he would probably make a very adequate Kindred because he seemed to be up all night and all day and only crashed out when his body couldn’t handle the exhaustion any longer. That was one of the biggest arguments for the fact his brain just really wasn’t functioning how it should these days. But despite his second attempt to end it all, his apparent soul mate wasn’t going to have a bar of it.
When he woke slowly now and still finding himself extremely disoriented every time he woke. A bi-product of your own mind being your biggest demon. It was impossible to tell whether it was night or day. Though the blinds tightly drawn in the bedroom was his first hint, closely followed by a realisation that Seamus was sleeping behind him, spooning him, an arm wrapped protectively around his waist. It wasn’t really ‘sleeping’, though, and looking over his shoulder, Luka could see Seamus wasn’t breathing. All of this was one hell of a mindfuck, but ironically, it was less of a mindfuck than his life had been recently.
He knew it was day, though. He had very easily gotten used to having Seamus sticking to him like glue. There was no feeling that he was invading his personal space, no desire to be alone, not even a faint annoyance of spending too much time together like many couples could face. It just felt right for Seamus to be with him, and that was the part Luka was trying to wrap his head around. He had become so used to either going everything alone or only having Jett there to support him, that this felt surreal. There was this person - albeit not human - who wanted to be with him, no questions asked. Seamus made him feel like he wanted to open his heart up and pour all the pain out into his arms. He was still learning how to talk about how he felt, though.
As tempting as it was to just stay here and enjoy the feeling of being held, but his knee was really sore and he was forced to get up and move a little. He also only realised how strange it was that he got up, and made sure not to wake Seamus or pull the covers off him so he didn’t get cold. This guy was Kindred, he didn’t feel the cold and he wasn’t going to wake up from an undead sleep in the middle of the day. There was a tiny crystal dish by the bed containing the next couple of doses of Luka’s daily medication. He had overdosed as part of his attempt to shut off the awful feelings inside, so now Seamus had one of the housekeepers controlling Luka’s medication for him. He took the pills with a sip of water and then exited the bedroom, limping quite badly for the moment.
He ended up outside the manor and walking a short distance into the gardens. They were immaculate and sprawling further than the eye could see. He squinted his eyes, feeling them sting from how long he had been indoors and he felt drawn to a path that wound off to the left and into a walled part of the garden. He discovered the most amazing rose garden filled with shrub roses in many, many different colours. They were so beautiful, that his mouth dropped open just a little as he looked around. He was overcome with a distinct sense of serenity and rather than just gaping, looked closer at all the detail. Right in the middle, there was a large, stunning fountain of stallion running through the water below and intricately carved marble benches were dotted all around the walled area. It was unlike anything Luka had seen before and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.
He walked in a little further, taking his time without rush so he didn’t have to pressure his injured knee. Those who owned the estate and resided here could never see this beauty in the sunlight, and that was a puzzling train of thought for Luka. Sunlight seemed like something to be truly taken for granted, and especially being Australian. Seamus hadn’t seen it in over 100 years and when Luka looked around the interior of the rose garden again, it was in a different light this time. Would it still look this beautiful in the moonlight? Maybe people had been wrong all along… maybe the moonlight was more beautiful than the sun? He raked his curly hair back out of his eyes and approached a looming greenhouse further along the path. A small push of the door, and he stepped inside…
It was filled with the most beautiful, perfect roses he had ever seen. Rows and rows of them, the colours so vibrant it was almost overwhelming. The smell was unbelievable, but yet again, he was comparing all of this - his human response to it - to how a Kindred must experience it. They didn’t smell, they senses. Were roses just as sweet if you couldn’t smell the perfume? What if Shakespeare was Kindred and all his poetry observations in his work were just his brain working overtime linking the human world to the world of darkness? He was starting to feel shaky on his feet and a little dizzy, so he moved over to another of the marble benches in the middle of the greenhouse. He nursed his hand under his knee, fruitlessly trying to encourage it to stop hurting. It was dead still in there, a thick silence reigning and he was hit with a somewhat claustrophobic loneliness. It was never really gone. It just seemed to amplify the further away from Seamus he got.
He had sat down by a bed of roses that seemed to draw his attention. They were so starkly unusual that he found himself mesmirised by their appearance. They looked like they were white roses that had been dipped in blood, their petals a deep crimson around the edges. Without even thinking, he reached to grab one of the stems, wanting to know how they smelled, his mind trying to tempt him that they may actually smell like blood if he was close enough. He didn’t think, and as soon as his fingers touched the stem, a razor-sharp thorn pricked his finger and he pulled his hand away with a small gasp. Blood pooled at the tip of his index finger and trickled down the side. He looked at the rose, the intense contrast of red and white staring back at him. His gaze was wary, and he was hesitant in putting his finger to his mouth to try to staunch the bleeding from the prick.
He froze then, realised what he was doing. The taste of blood was on his tongue and where this could have been such an innocent act before he learned of this world intertwined with their own, it now had him pausing and focusing on the taste of blood and wondering what it would like to only ever taste that again. Did kisses taste the same? Did you miss the food you could have as a human? Could you distinguish the taste of your lover from everybody else? His finger was stinging now and he went to rub the tip to try to ease the pain a little, but got distracted by the ring that was now adorning the ring finger on his right hand. He had only come close to removing it once since he discovered it on his finger, but then an overwhelming urge not to take it off set in. He hadn’t thought about taking it off since.
It had been when Xavier had looked in on him to see if he was okay, Seamus off in the kitchen with the resident chef (for their non-Kindred guests, of course). “What is this?” he had asked the sagacious Kindred, warily holding his hand away from him as if it might harm him. “This isn’t mine,” he had added emphatically, even almost slightly disconcerted.
“The Celtic knot. It symbolises protection,” Xavier had told him with a veiled smile.
“But it’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before,” Luka had argued and that was when he had almost gone to take it off, but he had stopped, looking up at Xavier who was standing in the doorway.
“It is now,” Xavier had confirmed and then with a small gesture to Luka’s hand. “It was to shield you when you brushed close to death, darling.”
Luka had blinked looking from Xavier to the ring. “It’s got a cross. I’m not religious.”
“Neither is he.”
“What does it mean…?” The question came warily, but his curiosity was more than piqued.
“That is dependent on who is in its possession. The Celts are a very spiritual bunch, much ancient intricacy in their heritage. I am but an infant in comparison to their Lore. Seamus may not be as old as me in years, but his blood far surpasses mine.” Another smile, and this time Xavier gave him a polite nod and bid him sweet dreams before leaving Luka alone with the ring… and his thoughts.
Luka felt out of his league, out of his depth, confused and overwhelmed. He looked at the rose again, feeling like it was distinctly taunting the difference between night and day, dark and light… or even him and Seamus? But something inside was telling him that Seamus belonged inside him. He had no idea how this Kindred person from ancient and spiritual Celtic blood was supposed to be his soul mate, but there was no denying it inside anymore. That urge was still there for him to harm himself, to try to just stop it to cease the pain. But now it was being drowned out by something that - for the first time in years - was overtaking those painful feelings.
And that something was Seamus.
"Sleep will not come to this tired body now
Peace will not come to this lonely heart
There are some things I'll live without
But I want you to know that I need you right now."
In The Arms of Sleep, Smashing Pumpkins
Luka had lost track of the days and especially the time of day. His own body clock had been up the shit for months now, and in that sense, he would probably make a very adequate Kindred because he seemed to be up all night and all day and only crashed out when his body couldn’t handle the exhaustion any longer. That was one of the biggest arguments for the fact his brain just really wasn’t functioning how it should these days. But despite his second attempt to end it all, his apparent soul mate wasn’t going to have a bar of it.
When he woke slowly now and still finding himself extremely disoriented every time he woke. A bi-product of your own mind being your biggest demon. It was impossible to tell whether it was night or day. Though the blinds tightly drawn in the bedroom was his first hint, closely followed by a realisation that Seamus was sleeping behind him, spooning him, an arm wrapped protectively around his waist. It wasn’t really ‘sleeping’, though, and looking over his shoulder, Luka could see Seamus wasn’t breathing. All of this was one hell of a mindfuck, but ironically, it was less of a mindfuck than his life had been recently.
He knew it was day, though. He had very easily gotten used to having Seamus sticking to him like glue. There was no feeling that he was invading his personal space, no desire to be alone, not even a faint annoyance of spending too much time together like many couples could face. It just felt right for Seamus to be with him, and that was the part Luka was trying to wrap his head around. He had become so used to either going everything alone or only having Jett there to support him, that this felt surreal. There was this person - albeit not human - who wanted to be with him, no questions asked. Seamus made him feel like he wanted to open his heart up and pour all the pain out into his arms. He was still learning how to talk about how he felt, though.
As tempting as it was to just stay here and enjoy the feeling of being held, but his knee was really sore and he was forced to get up and move a little. He also only realised how strange it was that he got up, and made sure not to wake Seamus or pull the covers off him so he didn’t get cold. This guy was Kindred, he didn’t feel the cold and he wasn’t going to wake up from an undead sleep in the middle of the day. There was a tiny crystal dish by the bed containing the next couple of doses of Luka’s daily medication. He had overdosed as part of his attempt to shut off the awful feelings inside, so now Seamus had one of the housekeepers controlling Luka’s medication for him. He took the pills with a sip of water and then exited the bedroom, limping quite badly for the moment.
He ended up outside the manor and walking a short distance into the gardens. They were immaculate and sprawling further than the eye could see. He squinted his eyes, feeling them sting from how long he had been indoors and he felt drawn to a path that wound off to the left and into a walled part of the garden. He discovered the most amazing rose garden filled with shrub roses in many, many different colours. They were so beautiful, that his mouth dropped open just a little as he looked around. He was overcome with a distinct sense of serenity and rather than just gaping, looked closer at all the detail. Right in the middle, there was a large, stunning fountain of stallion running through the water below and intricately carved marble benches were dotted all around the walled area. It was unlike anything Luka had seen before and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.
He walked in a little further, taking his time without rush so he didn’t have to pressure his injured knee. Those who owned the estate and resided here could never see this beauty in the sunlight, and that was a puzzling train of thought for Luka. Sunlight seemed like something to be truly taken for granted, and especially being Australian. Seamus hadn’t seen it in over 100 years and when Luka looked around the interior of the rose garden again, it was in a different light this time. Would it still look this beautiful in the moonlight? Maybe people had been wrong all along… maybe the moonlight was more beautiful than the sun? He raked his curly hair back out of his eyes and approached a looming greenhouse further along the path. A small push of the door, and he stepped inside…
It was filled with the most beautiful, perfect roses he had ever seen. Rows and rows of them, the colours so vibrant it was almost overwhelming. The smell was unbelievable, but yet again, he was comparing all of this - his human response to it - to how a Kindred must experience it. They didn’t smell, they senses. Were roses just as sweet if you couldn’t smell the perfume? What if Shakespeare was Kindred and all his poetry observations in his work were just his brain working overtime linking the human world to the world of darkness? He was starting to feel shaky on his feet and a little dizzy, so he moved over to another of the marble benches in the middle of the greenhouse. He nursed his hand under his knee, fruitlessly trying to encourage it to stop hurting. It was dead still in there, a thick silence reigning and he was hit with a somewhat claustrophobic loneliness. It was never really gone. It just seemed to amplify the further away from Seamus he got.
He had sat down by a bed of roses that seemed to draw his attention. They were so starkly unusual that he found himself mesmirised by their appearance. They looked like they were white roses that had been dipped in blood, their petals a deep crimson around the edges. Without even thinking, he reached to grab one of the stems, wanting to know how they smelled, his mind trying to tempt him that they may actually smell like blood if he was close enough. He didn’t think, and as soon as his fingers touched the stem, a razor-sharp thorn pricked his finger and he pulled his hand away with a small gasp. Blood pooled at the tip of his index finger and trickled down the side. He looked at the rose, the intense contrast of red and white staring back at him. His gaze was wary, and he was hesitant in putting his finger to his mouth to try to staunch the bleeding from the prick.
He froze then, realised what he was doing. The taste of blood was on his tongue and where this could have been such an innocent act before he learned of this world intertwined with their own, it now had him pausing and focusing on the taste of blood and wondering what it would like to only ever taste that again. Did kisses taste the same? Did you miss the food you could have as a human? Could you distinguish the taste of your lover from everybody else? His finger was stinging now and he went to rub the tip to try to ease the pain a little, but got distracted by the ring that was now adorning the ring finger on his right hand. He had only come close to removing it once since he discovered it on his finger, but then an overwhelming urge not to take it off set in. He hadn’t thought about taking it off since.
It had been when Xavier had looked in on him to see if he was okay, Seamus off in the kitchen with the resident chef (for their non-Kindred guests, of course). “What is this?” he had asked the sagacious Kindred, warily holding his hand away from him as if it might harm him. “This isn’t mine,” he had added emphatically, even almost slightly disconcerted.
“The Celtic knot. It symbolises protection,” Xavier had told him with a veiled smile.
“But it’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before,” Luka had argued and that was when he had almost gone to take it off, but he had stopped, looking up at Xavier who was standing in the doorway.
“It is now,” Xavier had confirmed and then with a small gesture to Luka’s hand. “It was to shield you when you brushed close to death, darling.”
Luka had blinked looking from Xavier to the ring. “It’s got a cross. I’m not religious.”
“Neither is he.”
“What does it mean…?” The question came warily, but his curiosity was more than piqued.
“That is dependent on who is in its possession. The Celts are a very spiritual bunch, much ancient intricacy in their heritage. I am but an infant in comparison to their Lore. Seamus may not be as old as me in years, but his blood far surpasses mine.” Another smile, and this time Xavier gave him a polite nod and bid him sweet dreams before leaving Luka alone with the ring… and his thoughts.
Luka felt out of his league, out of his depth, confused and overwhelmed. He looked at the rose again, feeling like it was distinctly taunting the difference between night and day, dark and light… or even him and Seamus? But something inside was telling him that Seamus belonged inside him. He had no idea how this Kindred person from ancient and spiritual Celtic blood was supposed to be his soul mate, but there was no denying it inside anymore. That urge was still there for him to harm himself, to try to just stop it to cease the pain. But now it was being drowned out by something that - for the first time in years - was overtaking those painful feelings.
And that something was Seamus.