Theme 08: Erjin - Week 4

Today I feel overwhelmed. Been up for an hour, feel like the world's too much to bear. Interestingly enough, this feeling occurred after I shared a personal post by someone I watch on DA - wondering how people on my FB will react to it, if at all. I'm always the one wondering how people will react because I always feel like I'm supposed to be a specific person (and by 'always' I mean, whenever I feel out of sync with myself); or wondering whether people who can relate to the post will be upset over it. I don't know. I think I simply think/feel too much. Like everything, it'll pass.

Other things worthy of mention:

- I got a cool drawing idea for Nalyn last night; I think that's what I'll be doing right after I try and decrease my DA backlog;

- I made a Tumblr; it'll likely serve about the same purpose as the Facebook page, except with less random/unfinished writings, and more cat photos.

And here we are at week 4! This week, a continuation of Week 2, and an encounter that changed Erjin's perspective of the world and some of its inhabitants...

Morning came all too quickly. Erjin woke with a loud yawn, stretched, and rolled to her other side. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, moaning at the slight headache lodged between her eyes. And then she sat up with a scream, remembering the events of the previous night in a flash. Her heart pounded in her chest as though trying to escape. She let out another small scream and held her hands at her throat, patting and prodding and feeling the marks of strangulation. It wasn't a dream. Nothing was. Oliver… Oliver had used her. The Honorary were supposed to protect the civilians, but he had endangered them both. Endangered her.

Erjin sobbed, burying her face into her hands, screamed then sobbed some more. The emotions raged like wildfire within her, feelings of betrayal, of sorrow, of guilt turned to mourn. She'd really thought… but he was just helping himself…  did he call her a stick ? She held onto this petty insult with what little ire she could muster. As she was about to stand, she heard something shatter, then a man curse under his breath. Erjin froze, thoughts racing through her mind. A burglar ? The man from last night ? No, no, hopefully a friend ??

"… J-Janty…?", she called out, tightening her grip on the bed covers in order to hide herself under them if need be. Her ears twitched to an exasperated sigh, and a single word: 'elves'. She wondered what her elvin lineage had to do with anything, and called out with more assurance to the trespasser.

"… I'm armed!"

She but barely caught sound of a muffled snort of a laugh, and felt vexed. "I am! I— … please don't hurt me."

Though she had but barely seen his features in dim lanternlight, she needed no glasses to recognize him at once. His figure, his stance… the monster, the Varyi that had attacked them in the alley, after the bandit… after… what ?

"Were it my intention," he replied with a wry smile, "wouldn't you already be dead ?"

He was right. She was alive and well, and very confused. Yes, she remembered the bandit, remembered all too vividly those sticky fingers cutting off air. And then… then, the pressure had ceased, and she'd fallen onto the cobblestones. And looked up. And, yes, there he'd stood. Briefly, ever so briefly, and then she was gone. Had he…?

"Did you…?"

"I did," he replied, plain and simple, "Also, I must apologize to you. It seems I've broken one of your… vases, I think it was ? I—"

"You're clumsy ??"

He stared at her, genuinely perplexed. Then he laughed coolly, as though cautious.

"I suppose I am," he said, amused, "being what I am doesn't render me any less prone to awkwardness, social or other."

"And you speak so well!"

"And you speak human," he added with a cutting edge, his smile faltering, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I will take my leave—"

"No, please, no!" she squeaked, crawling across her bed to its edge, "I didn't mean— I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to offend you. It's just— I've never— you… saved my life, didn't you. Really saved me. From— I— My name is Erjin Lorwyck," she finally said, extending her hand, "I'm pleased to meet you. Really."

The vampire stared her down, hesitating. "Devon," he eventually replied, shaking her hand carefully.

"I apologize for my reaction, Devon," she immediately continued, "can I offer you something to eat ? Or… oh, my, I am so sorry," she said, a hand to her mouth, "I didn't mean…"

Devon's lips curled into a tense but kind smile. "I've helped myself to a cup of tea, but thank you. Bread will do just fine."

* * *

"I must admit, I am speechless," Erjin mentioned in between two bites, observing Devon's ravenous eating habits. She didn't dare mention it, but he reminded her of a starving animal given a treat. The mess he left was unfathomable.

"I didn't know the Varyi –Vampires, ate solid food. Or drank… tea."

Devon wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "How many Vampires have you met ?", he said after swallowing, a hint of sarcasm duly noted.

"Well, just the one… and, you."

In reply, Devon gestured to her, stating with a wave and a glance 'there you go then'.

"Yes, but, I have been studying your kind, and no one ever mentions you subsist on more than blood alone."

"And you must be one of the most talkative elves I have ever met," he groaned, ripping a loaf of bread in half and swallowing it whole, "From what I have read, elves are usually reserved, eloquent, noble, and 'as beautiful as the evening sun setting over the vast forests of the Meer'", he added with a wide and graceful wave of his arm, "I have seen elves with hearts as ugly as a human's, and humans more beautiful than elves. Books do not reflect the truth, not always. Furthermore, I… oh." Damn.

"… how old are you," Erjin whispered with unbridled excitement, "You quoted Gerald Huntings! But it isn't called the Meer anymore, because—"

"—the Meer no longer exists, and is now referred to as the—"

"—Woodlands of Malmernian!"

A heavy silence burdened the air between them. After two millennia, he still hadn't learned to shut his mouth in time to avoid any means of suspicion. But then, he never did meet many literate people. He didn't expect her to read novels to begin with.

"At least," she finally added, breaking the ice, "it's called the Woodlands of Malmernian around these parts. According to Auctur, who compared several versions of this novel, every country has a different name for those elvin, and their woods. It's a popular novel, I've read. I mean, I haven't read it, but I know of it. Huntings believed the Meer was as ancient as the world, and it was an ignominy that they used its trees to construct homes. Auctur himself believes that the original novel wasn't a novel at all, rather an official report on the destruction of a unique environment. And… I'm boring you, aren't I."

"Hmm? No!," he mumbled, realizing he'd started falling asleep, "I'm sorry, I'm usually the one telling stories. Unfortunately, I'm now realizing how boring I must have come across."

Yet, he smiled. Erjin wondered what he was thinking, but decided not to pry. Now that she looked closer, he did seem exhausted.

"Do you need a rest ? There's a couch…"

Devon silenced her with a dismissive handwave. "Thank you, I'll be alright. In fact, I should be leaving. Thank you for breakfast," he said, standing up, "Perhaps we'll meet again…"

"Can I… ask you something else ?", she added meekly, ignoring her own rudeness, "The Varyi who attacked me – you must've heard, was it—was he…"

She thought a moment while he waited patiently for her to form a coherent sentence.

"Was he… like you ? I mean, —"

"Possibly," Devon replied casually, seating himself, "I am sorry he attacked you. This you must understand, Erjin: he was young. A few days, perhaps. To keep them, us, subdued, they bled us almost dry. The problem is," he slammed his hand on the table, indistinct emotions twisting his face, "when we are bloodstarved, we lose control. We gain strength. And we kill. Were I starved right this instant, I'd kill you without hesitation. Do you understand ?"

"… I… think I do…," Erjin gulped, reminded that she was not speaking to a human, but to a creature that required blood in order to survive.

"Still," he added in a calmer tone, removing his hand from the table, "even bloodstarved, a vampire must be able to contain his or her madness. What you saw yesterday…"

"I… didn't," she promptly added, reluctant to try and remember, "See, anything, yesterday. I don't know what happened. Except that you must have saved me."

"… oh," Devon said, confused. He then sighed, relieved, "Well then, I will tell you this. We are not 'people', nor are we beasts. We are a disease, a plague in living form, proliferating as we feed," and, as he spoke, he lifted a side of his upper lip to show his fangs. Erjin caught a quick flick of a muscle, and stared in awe when a nearly transparent extension as thin and sharp as a needle popped out from the tip of his canine fang, dripping with what she imagined to be venom.

"I choose not to contribute, nor to murder lest necessary," he continued evenly despite Erjin's horror-stricken face, "I could have chosen suicide, many times over. I would never have suffered, nor caused any suffering."

His voice cracked, and Erjin thought she'd seen a tear.

"However", he continued with force, "I have chosen to live, to wield this curse as a weapon rather than an excuse. Who can say what life that vampire had led as a man ? Whatever his choices were, are none of your concern, nor mine. He's been free to live his own life, and he has. Do you understand ?"

"Yes," she lied. His words upset her without clear reason. Perhaps it was the cold, matter-of-fact way with which he was explaining his point of view. Or perhaps it was too much talk after a mild hangover. He seemed to notice her uneasiness, and simplified.

"You chose to accompany that human, Oliver. Why ?"

Her head snapped up. "That is none of your concern!", she objected, her cheeks blushing.

"Do you understand, now ?"

She was angry, upset and hurt at the same time, but she finally did understand his point, which frustrated her further. She had indeed chosen to accompany Oliver, against her better judgment. And she nearly died because of it. Had she died, it would've been her own fault, and no one else's, for it was her choice to be there that evening, with Oliver. The rest was irrelevant. With a thought, her resentment subsided, just in time to ask him another question before he left.

"Do Varyi love ?"

Devon froze in mid-stand.

"I wondered, and… I couldn't ask anyone. I wondered whether the Varyi had a family. The Honorary he killed had a pregnant wife. I…"

Devon straightened up. "You ask whether the man who became vampire had a wife, or children. Would it make any difference to you whether the man who attempted to murder you last night had a wife of his own ?"

Erjin was speechless. She'd never even considered that possibility. Indeed, would it have made a difference ? Should she feel grief ? Regret ? Anything ? Suddenly, Devon's speech on choice made complete sense, but the words that she spoke made her feel ill.

"He… made his choice, didn't he ?", she muttered, gagging, "He chose… to… oh…"

Erjin fled to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Motionless, Devon stared absently towards her distant heaving sounds. Perhaps he should have worded his opinion differently. Perhaps, he shouldn't have worded it at all. He knew people like Erjin all too well: sheltered hearts, breaking at the first encounter with the harsh reality of shadows. He easily imagined how she now felt, having to agree with him that, no, it didn't matter whether the mercenary had a wife or not, because if it did, then she'd have to bear the guilt of having caused the death of a man, rather than a worthless reject of society.

And he remembered a time long past, long before his heart had turned to stone. He remembered the Ansai Sorasiehn, who'd rescued him despite her own better judgment by letting him drink her almost dry. He'd tried to rupture the darkness of her heart, never realizing it was this darkness that kept her sane, just as surely as closing off his heart helped him get by and do what he must. He'd saved this girl, but not the other: Teresa, the newborn vampire girl he'd found wounded and beaten by the side of the road, horse and carriage destroyed. He should have killed her – it would have been an act of mercy. Instead, he shared with her his blood and listened to her story. Hunters. They'd taken her 'father', the vampire who'd turned her, but not before he had the chance to critically injure several of them. Run, he'd told her, and she'd ran, far enough for them not to pursue her. She wanted to find him, and Devon couldn't let her do so alone.

They were caught right outside of Malmern. He had no choice but to yield and accept capture, lest they killed Teresa. Her father had already been sold away, but they'd expected her to come after him. They bled and caged them like beasts, along with another newborn vampire they'd run into. Then came the hunger. The madness. They broke loose easily, yet he still kept enough sanity to drag Teresa in another direction, away from the crowds. But the guards easily spotted them, covered in blood, and arrested them after Teresa latched herself onto a guard, trying in vain to bite through his armor. She, along with the other vampire, were eventually deemed a threat to society, and executed. They'd committed no crime. Yet, they were killed. And here he still stood, alone with the memory and the guilt. He failed to save her. He always failed to save her. Close to tears, he shut his eyes and willed the emotions away.

He left Erjin a note on the table. Thank you for breakfast. Take care.