†
“Of course, it’s only right if it’s warm… anything chilled, and it’s as if they have been dead for far too long… a meal long forgotten in the dining room… cold and lonely,” Amber hues of fixated interest watched as the other vampire began tending to elegant bottles and fine glasses. Caleb took a few steps forward the instant irons rose to the air, almost as if there was a gravitational pull manipulating him towards the scent of blood, the sight of dark crimson liquid moving from one confinement to another. Pale fingers tightened grip on the doll in their hold. Even after so many years, despite the fact that he was far from being a newborn, he clearly still lacked a proper handle on his craze for blood. He had lived his entire undead life fueled by only his desires, and having to stop so suddenly—being forced to stop—had not settled well with him. Bloodlust was simply part of him, it made him who he was, wrote with its red feathered pen on frayed pages the legend that he was. The infamous. The hunted, for two-hundred years. And there he stood, in the 21st century, already itching from the inside out from just a bottle of substance that wasn’t even one-hundred percent blood. The tip of his tongue showed itself at the corner of his mouth, and Caleb hovered near the edge of the table for a stretched moment. There was a hint of something wild that flickered within amber hues that were locked on filled glasses, and there was nothing else… nothing outside of his line of vision. For a split second, he was nearly similar to a feline that was ready to pounce on its prey, but as quickly as animalistic instinct had written itself all over such a pretty visage, it had faded, and the British vampire turned away from the Hungarian prince, from the glasses, and moved to the plush velvet sofa instead.
How painfully hard it is to go from h u n d r e d s to a few,
Withdrawal only threatens to spiral ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ
Prior to Dominik’s attention averting to the drinks he began preparing, Caleb had noticed and felt the way their cerise gaze had lingered upon him, moved over his body as if they were, perhaps, admiring him. As he took his seat at the edge of elegant and dark furniture, ran a pale hand atop soft fabric, he grinned at his own musings, able to think clearly when he had control, even if only temporary. “Does the view appeal to you?” It’s asked softly, yet boldly, a gentle taunting undertone hanging on to each syllable, curiosity genuine.
Caleb’s view, of someone royal with a gaze unique—a shade of red at neutrality—and raven locks against a pale exterior, was rather desirable, and he would have no qualms admitting such if asked. It was not just the view, but the sound as well, the accent with which Dominik spoke was one that he was already fond of hearing. His own prince, his sire, had a distinct accent as well, but Dominik’s seemed much thicker, much more defined, perhaps because of how young they were in comparison.
Caleb’s own accent was simply English—Cockney, to be precise—though he had a few other languages he could speak in fluently. Russian, French, and Italian. Regardless of residing and settling in South Korea, he was unable to read, speak, or understand any of it. It had only been a few months since he had been in the country, and needless to say, his attention had been held captive by many other things. Still was. Learning another language was the farthest thing from his mind. Caleb still had habits of doing things extremely old fashioned—by the law of his kind, not humanity. So far, he hadn’t needed to learn the language to function in the country his sire had chosen.
But, that too, was bound to change in due time as everything else, wasn’t it?
At the moment, he felt comfortable in the home of the Hungarian pureblood, surrounded by antique furniture and style of class. And of course, Caleb would expect no less from someone of Dominik’s status.
The comfort of his own home always made smiling so much more easy, made being a good host much easier at all times. Simplicity ruled a twisted mind and pride had built a perfect home, a perfect exterior to emit a demeanor that matched the one his status was supposed to provide him with. But he hadn’t grown up with his own parents, nor with his siblings and he lacked royal grace and courtesy. Not too strange considering the circumstances. He had been raised by hunters, and his skills were more than just good when it came to what he had been trained to commit — when it concerned brutally murdering his own kind. But if he were to have tea with someone of higher status, he wouldn’t be aware of how to act. For the first ten years, he hadn’t even known his own name, only the one given to him, the nickname that defined exactly what it was he could do with his bare hands. Ciro.
Like the sun;
Like a million stars, emerging.
Like uncontrollable flames, dancing across an open sky.
It was the sanest description of himself, that Dominik had ever been given. Everything he was, from the flesh covering his bones to the depth of his soul, would always be unpredictable. Mood turning from high to low in seconds, flames changing from yellows and oranges to deep hues of blue. It was, his signum. Those blue flames of his, sprouting from pale fingertips whenever he so desired them to. A desirable weapon, used for many many years. For the benefit of humanity. However, those valuations had been released years ago, and Dominik was closer to his own kind than ever before, albeit differing still. Closer than ever, to finding out the truth concerning his birth — to find his siblings.
The thought made his lips twist for a moment, as pouring some of the velvet-smooth, crimson liquid into the second glass he had brought with himself into the room. “ A wise choice, and a legitimate statement. Seems like we share an opinion.” He stated calmly, before setting the bottle down upon polished wood. He brought both glasses with him, moving across the short space between the table and the sofa, settling comfortably against soft cushions. Observant. as usually, hues of cerise lingered by the vampire again, studying his expression, the way he held his posture while sitting. Another thing he found fascinating, much to his own surprise.
“ So, heated it is. ”
A shrug of slim shoulders, a silent count to five and blue flames emerged from slim, nimble digits, licking over lass and dancing around the rim. As prettily as ever, in the cannibal’s opinion and he almost looked fascinated by his own work for a moment, for several long seconds before he deemed the beverage heated enough. Fire decreased almost as quickly as it had grown, rejoining the flames in his veins, appending back with flesh and bones. “ All warm. ” He grinned, holding the glass out for the English vampire. Caleb was still a very tempting sight for Dominik to behold, not only because of his features and frae, but also because of his scent and the way he walked, moved in general. It held the younger’s interest, and obviously so. Attractiveness was one thing, but there were many other factors that had helped settling the rules for his little game of curiosity. Because after all,
He needed to be close to get somewhere.
Completely unaware of future consequences, his personally given mission was carried out fearlessly, although he had much to actually be terrified of. Things could go terribly wrong after all, and that was a risk unworthy of his attention.
The grin remained etched to his lips, as he reached out for his own glass, keeping the beverage at a mild temperature. He didn’t like it too warm nor too cold. “ I happen to worry…” He began, before bringing the glass to his lips to take a small sip of the dark liquid, warmth and satisfaction settling in his veins — in his chest. “ How come, you came to Seoul in the first place? I thought England was more interesting than this place.Or am I wrong?” He questioned a bit carefully, tipping his head back to enjoy the work of art decorating his ceiling, a pleasant painting really. Considering how much harmony it provided him with.
“ Does it, taste good?”
" The whine I mean. “