Lucien Taile's Story

Lucien stumbled into the boundaries of a petite though nonetheless inviting village, cottages scattered across the outskirts, weary and eager for a meal and cosy bed. He had begun his day earlier than he would have liked, the summer sun prompting a rise in the wee hours of the morning, he’d then trudged his way from the clearing he had camped in through the forest, already too exhausted from travelling with little or, unfortunately, no rest. At one point, he had crossed paths with an suspecting deer, but his limbs refused to even reach for his trusty wooden bow and poison tipped arrows; a missed opportunity that now had his stomach growling in protest.

When he'd first spotted the village, a tantalizing speck in the distance, his face split into a broad grin brimming with relief and silent thanks. And now, seeing it in all in its homely, run down glory, Luce's entire body ached for the building he recognized as the inn, his mouth watering as the smells of lunch wafted from the chimneys in his direction.

Lucien slunk into the expansive main room of the inn, the sickening smell of ale, alcohol on the breath of drunks, and the amount of warmth radiating from the customers bodies almost driving him out the door once more. Tucking his white wings tightly, protectively, against his clothed back, he side stepped his way through the masses, avoiding tables and groups of swaying people alike, until he located a deserted booth stashed away, most likely forgotten, in a corner, and he quickly slid into the seat, unnoticed. Shucking off his trusty leather knapsack, quiver and bow, Lucien spread his wings, efficiently stretching them, before relaxing, though his feathers continued to bristle with discomfort at the amount of humans crowding the space.

Running his fingers harshly through his dark hair, Lucien grimaced, willing himself not to fall asleep at his table before he pumped some serious food into himself (And oh god- was that dirt and grease in his hair? He'd need a serious bath once he paid for a room).

Dorian watched the people in the inn. That was when another angel walked in, Dorian ducked his head letting his dark onyx hair fall into his eyes. This was the last thing he needed was a the angel finding out who he was and flipping shit and causing innocent lives to be lost. Dorian didn't take his eyes off the angel as he sat down in the opposite corner from him. He watched as the dark haired stranger set down his pack, quiver and bow. Dorian watched as the angel spread his wings to stretch them just a little. He loathed how white the strange angel's wings where, Dorian wanted to see him suffer the same fate he had, but bit back all his loathing to ward this angel. It wasn't he that caused his life to fall into peaces, it was his family's fault, not that he could call them family any more. Dorian decided that he would ignore this angel for the rest of the night.

Lucien became ill at ease when he sensed a few gazes upon his figure (or perhaps it was just one? He would not find out as he refused to look for those eyes that he had caught the attention of). More uncomfortable than he had been when entering, discomfort pooled awkwardly in his gut though his haggard, once handsome face an unreadable mask, void of anything. Luce resisted the urge to fiddle with his bag and its contents, giving his hands something to do instead by simply removing his trusty jacket, pulling it tenderly over wings, a feather catching on the fabric, to which he winced, ever so slightly. His brows furrowed as an irritating twang of hunger made its presence known again, stomach growling.

But before he can attract the waiter to place an order, the young white haired boy he had seen come to the inn as well, who was seated quite near him, swayed worryingly, before toppling from his seat in a faint. At first, Lucien has the fleeting idea that he had drunk too much, but it was dismissed when he noticed the lack of mugs and jugs on the occupied table. Quickly deciding that the black out was brought on by much more serious circumstances, he rises from his seat, intending to aid.

Dorian almost hit his head off the table do to his bad luck. Two vampires and two angels (one being himself) all in one room. After years of wandering the world he had come to see another paranormal when he saw them. He also had to keep in mind that one of the vampires had just blacked out do to lack-there-of blood in his system. Dorian mentally cursed at the foolish vampire for not eating anything. One of the last things he wanted was to have a very hungry vampire in the room when he woke, it would or could lead to bad things. Dorian watched as the other angel decided that he would help, Dorian then decided that he might as well do something. Dorian removed him self from his chair and walked up to the inn keeper. "One room for the man that has passed out please." Dorian placed the coin for the room on the bar. Before walking back the the passed out vampire, and placing two fingers just under the vampire's jaw. Of course the vampire had no pulse, he was already dead, but for the sake of the human's in the room he did it any way. Huffing and grumbling under his breath about stupid irresponsible vampire's that thought they knew everything, he lifted the one of the arms of passed out vampire over his shoulder. His back immediately protested, Dorian could feel the blood tickle into his all ready bloody bandages, though his face showed no pain. Dorian was more then cretin that the other, wide awake, vampire could smell the fresh blood. He sure as all hell hoped that the vampire had a brain between his ears and didn't say anything about it in front of the other angel, but knowing Dorian's luck the blond of the two would point it out.

Another rushed over immediately to help, Lucien noticed, checking for the thudding pulse he would not find (Was this man unaware he was a vampire, he thought, or was it to keep up appearances?). And when the tiniest wince of pain crossed the blackette's features as he struggled to haul the passed out vampire from the ground, Luce grappled at the creatures limp side, pulling his opposite arm across his broad shoulders to share the weight. The boy was young, little in stature, but the weight, he was sure, was still too great for one person alone to carry across the lobby and up several stairs to the allocated bedroom.

Lucien paused, movements halting as he momentarily panicked over his abandoned supplies and all important weapon. Worries that he pushed frantically to the back of his mind as he dealt with the task at hand. He smelt the copper of bloody nearby, subconsciously realizing that it could not have come from the vampire, that it wasn't simply leftover dried on his clothing, since he was presently passed out from lack of such a substance. But again, it was a matter he would have to deal with at a later time.

Samuel looked at the boy as he seemed a little light headed. He put a hand on his shoulder gently to hold him up, but when the guy completely collapsed, Samuel totally freaked out. He rubbed his face, trying to control his panic. He mumbled under his breath and breathed heavily. "No no no no no o no no no no... Oh dear... please wake up..."

He covered his eyes, afraid to peak through them. Samuel blocked out the world around him, hoping it would all go away. When he felt another presence near, he uncovered his face and looked at the dark haired man pick up the unconscious boy. Samuel heart pounded in his chest. He smelled blood. He looked over the dark haired guy and found that he was bleeding from his back. A former angel maybe. Samuel said nothing, but followed the man as they headed into a bedroom. Samuel bit his lip, holding in the urge to drain the man of his blood, or even just lick the blood that spilled from the wounds on his back. The smell was intoxicating.

At this point in time Dorian was starting to think that the angel didn't know of his existence in the angel world. That didn't bother Dorian in the slightest, he didn't want to be apart of their world just as much as they didn't want him. Dorian could now smell the blood from his back even more so. He would have to replace and wash the old wraps. After fumbling with the albino looking vampire up the stairs and into his room, that Dorian had purchased earlier, with the help of the other angel he place said vampire onto the bed in the room. "Stupid, childish, know-it-all vampires" Dorian cursed, just a little more loudly then he did while down stair in a room full of humans, as he stood tall again. He almost cursed out loud again, but decided to let his face contort in pain in stead, because the fast motion caused his wounds to open more only to seep more blood. He could feel it tickling down his back now. Dorian resisted every fiber in his body to run into the shower, strip and clean every inch of his body.

In his state of unconsciousness Jason could feel himself being lifted up off the ground. It soon settled to him just floating in the air, suspended on,what it felt like,someone's shoulder. Who's carrying me? He heard the voice of a person close to his ear,"Stupid, childish, know-it-all vampires". I guess I caused trouble for someone-

The small of blood filled his sense of smell, his whole body tingled with desire. Shit...This is really bad! Jason would move from the source if he could, but he whole body felt like a pail of lead. This made Jason irritated at himself, and this whole situation. Why did I have to pass out! And why do I have to smell blood at this moment! I wouldn't be in this mess if I hadn't come inside, but if I didn't I would be outside, and sooner or later would have bitten another person. Ever since the day Jason had been bitten, he has held himself from drinking blood, it sounds stupid but Jason hated the aftermath effect he had with blood. He would take it so far to the point only if he was in danger of losing himself, he would drink it. Yet, still he couldn't stand the fact he drank blood. It was true that he was a Vampire,and the fact that blood is like a delicious treat was also very true. That still doesn't mean he enjoys it. He doesn't like losing himself when drinking blood, it feels as if his whole body is being controlled. This frightens him beyond belief, the feeling of losing yourself as he drinks the blood of the person,until they are completely gone.

He felt himself being lifted down onto something soft. He struggled to get up or do anything with his body,but he was as heavy as a boulder, his body just wouldn't budge. He gave up on his body and resorted to his eyes. Praying that they would open for him, as well as his mouth. Finally after a long trail of struggling his eyes opened, to see that three people surrounding him. The first one was wearing a long black jacket, with dark hair and pale blue eyes. Jason could smell the blood coming from underneath his jacket, causing him pain just by smelling it. He must be the one who called me stupid. He then saw the waiter who looked only about a year older, he had blonde hair with red eyes. The third one was next to him, he had on a jacket also. He had blue-black hair and bright aqua eyes.

The blacked hair man was mumbling curses under his breath, "Sorry, I'm so stupid".

Gently lying the now half-conscious vampire to rest in the plushness of the inn's bed (and nodding for the other man to do the same), Lucien stepped back, rolling his shoulder experimentally a few times, working away any kinks that may have been born from the tiny journey. The grim flattening of his mouth was the only reaction telling that he'd heard the self-depreciating words of "I'm so stupid,", but the pity that came with it was regrettably short-lived (and he honestly did regret his lack of empathy towards the pain of others).

Luce backed up further, the smell of blood become increasingly apparent, and there was only one currently in the room it could belong to. "You may want to take care of your...problem, before he regains his strength. He mightn't attack but with the temptation, I wouldn't risk it," he addressed the man opposite, head tilted fractionally in a questioning motion. It had yet to cross his mind exactly where the blood might be oozing from, where exactly the wound (or wounds) were located. Though it was intriguing.

Samuel entered the room, almost jumping out of his skin. The smell was almost unbearable. "You may want to take care of your...problem, before he regains his strength. He mightn't attack but with the temptation, I wouldn't risk it," One of them said. He was so right. Samuel didn't know how long he could last before he attacked the guy. He looked briefly at the vampire, then other angel before looking back at bleeding man.

"I.. agree..." Samuel struggled to say. He was fighting the temptation to just lick his blood. "But I mean... I just... I really..." Samuel stepped closer to the dark haired guy and took his shoulder. "I really want your blood... It smell so nice... Please go... wash yourself before I do anything stupid... please..." He said in a hushed tone.

Dorian almost mentally slapped himself, all of the people currently standing in the room all knew what the smell of blood was, and all defiantly weren't around it 24/7 like he was. "All right all right, give me a hour." Dorian removed the other, but almost as young, vampire's hand from his shoulder. Cursing he opened the the door leading to the bathroom and closing it behind him. He locked the door, of course this wouldn't do much to fight agents vampires or a angel so he quickly charmed the crack between the door and the wall. This sealed it shut they only way to open it would be to erase the symbol witch he made out of soap. Satisfied with his work he removed his long cloak slowly, this was in attempt to keep his wounds opening even farther. He did the same with his low-cut-back mussel shirt. He removed his pants and boxer before stepping over to the sink that had a small round mirror above it, he turned slightly to get a look at his back. He cursed loudly. His blood did in dead seep through the wraps, next time he would think twice about helping a vampire. Dorian then set about the task of showering, cleaning wounds and then making the bathroom blood free.



Dorian was more then sure he had spent the majority of a hour cleaning, weather it be his wounds, his skin or the room it's self. It was a tedious task, but Dorian had to complete it every time he entered a inn or a place of stay. He didn't need anyone thinking he was a murderer. Dorian looked at his back once more. He could just see little nubs of bone sticking out of the wounds on his back. He clenched his teeth, he never did want this. He huffed slightly before going over to his cloak. He pulled out a small pouch. This was his special pouch he had gotten long before leaving the angels. It was enchanted to hold as much as Dorian wanted to place in it, he pulled out a set of clean wraps, he had gotten them in the last village he was at, he placed them on the sink before opening the window to let in some cleaner air. He was more then sure the small room was radiating in the sent of blood. He then started to wrap his wounds after slipping his pants back on.

Lucien paced the length of the room slowly, like a petulant child, keeping his aqua eyes trained on either vampire. The young one, resting peacefully on the bed slipped several times into sleep, and then promptly into awareness, and he assumed he was making a recovery, albeit gradually. The other practically twitched with the urge to leap across the space, break (perhaps violently) into the bathroom, and lap at the potent red he would find there , which, Luce knew, was a pointless endeavor against the charmed wooden door. But the vibes of blood lust put his very core on edge, alert.

When the pitter-patter of the water ceased, Lucien knocked harshly on the wooden door of the washroom. "Do you need help with your bandages?" He asked before hurriedly adding, "I would get one of these guys to do it but..." He paused, not wishing to cause any offense to the bloodthirsty race, nor the beings present, "They're vampires, n'all.". Luce recalled how irritatingly hard it had been for him to dress his own wounds when he had become readily inured at the beginning of his journey, when he had been horribly unskilled at defending himself. "Just let me know," He hummed, more encapsulated in memory now as he moved slowly from the door.

Dorian cursed loudly. This angle was ... annoying. Dorian had just started to slowly wrap his chest, he had only wrapped it once before he had pounded on the door making him drop the perspicuous roll of bandage. Not really thinking clearly he whipped away the seal. "Of course you can help, now that you made me drop the bandages that I had just as I had started wrapping." Dorian spoke very bitterly. He wasn't in the best of moods. Then again over the last three and a half years he hadn't been as cheerful as he used to be. It was only after he had finished wrapping the lose bandages into the tight little ball they where in before he had started wrapping them around his chest did he realize that his back would be entirely exposed to this angel. He made a long line of curses that his mother would have smacked him for and then proceed to send him to his room with out dinner, but Dorian wasn't around his mother any more now was he. Deciding that it was to late to replace the seal, he set the bandages on the sink and sat on the floor his scared and still bleeding back to the door.

Lucien twisted the unlocked knob, pulling at the reasonably heavy oak door. Stalking inside, he considered the vampire, instinctively reaching for the supplied washcloth, dousing it in the cold water available, ringing it out, muttering the gruff words, "I'm sorry- I just- Wanted to help, y'know? Ungrateful little..." while working away, addressing the injured slumped on the cold floor, whom he had not spared a second glance since entering. Walking out, Lucien folded the damp half in his long fingers, approaching the bed, it gently upon the boys forehead, praying it would help, even a small amount, though he had his suspicions it wouldn't, as Luce had a limited knowledge of vampires at the best of times, and mainly because he had possible accepted that he would most likely need blood to revive, be it human or otherwise. Sulking back to once he came, the angel fished the clean bandages from the basin. Luce had the dull idea that he old bandages could be used to feed the vampire, an idea that cleared as soon as he could not located the red soaked, old material (that could have very well been washed and was what was in his hands).

"I'll need you to stand," he ordered, attempting (miserably) to soften his voice, but the result continued to be dark and strained.

"Whatever you say Princess." Dorian couldn't help but reply sarcastically to the bitter tone of the other angel. None the less Dorian stood slowly, back still facing the door. He was mentally preparing him self for what will most likely happen next. His fingers twitched, he wanted to have his guns. Dorian knew things would turn sour when this angel saw his distorted back. Dorian also remembered that he, Dorian, most likely had as few more years of fighting experience. This calmed Dorian slightly. Dorian then lifted his arms away from his sides slightly to give the other angel enough room to wrap the bandages, that is if he actually did want to help after seeing his back. After all little stubs of bone could be seen sticking out of his back. They where all uneven in length do to the painful removal of his wings.

Lucien grimaced upon seeing his ravaged back, his gaze hardening and hands balling into fits by his side as his childhood upbringing and ingrained angel customs fought against the side of him that had developed during his long years of travelling, the side that did not judge. He struggled against the urge scrub his hands raw from merely thinking about touching, aiding the tainted. Slipping his fingers around the pulse point in the wrist of the former angel when he recognized the twitching, he ordered, "Don't worry. Stop panicking." to both of them, as they both seemed to so desperately need it. Swallowing heavily, Luce pulled away, unfurling the bandages silently, beginning to wrap and tie them around the angels chest and back, with especially careful precision regarding the bones that had been hacked mercilessly into. This was not a fate he ever wanted for himself, and had been part of the reason he had run from his own race and their laws in the first place.

Dorian's mind blanked for a few moments after the other angel hadn't ran away or attempted to kill him. How was he, Dorian, supposed to react the a angel, who's wings hadn't been ripped off, helping him? "Why are you helping me? It is clear that everyone else of our race hates me." Dorian supposed that asking this question was a easy place to start, after all any other angel that had seen his back ran for the hills or spat on him for even existing. He clenched his jaw to where it was almost painful as the memories as to why he was cast away resurfaced, it was never his fault and why no one believed him, why even his parents tossed him aside, was beyond Dorian.

Lucien persisted with the tending of the wounds, mind calculating a reasonable and truthful response. "I've lived too long away from angels, I think," he began, "I've created my own ideas and ideals about the world, not ones that are forced upon our kind. Personally, I believe their laws are feral and harsh. So this doesn't bother me like it should," He explained, lowly, tucking the end strand in against the tight crossings of material before it. He was rightfully satisfied by his handiwork.
"Don't get me wrong, I still have the instinct to haul you out to a window and shove you through it. But its masked and faded." He smiled, because he was partly joking, though the upturn of his lips was cold, lacking any warmth or humour, but that barely mattered as the other angel missed the gesture with his back being turned to Luce.
"The name is Lucien, by the way," He added, digging his hands into the deep pockets of his trousers now that he did not know what to do with them.

Dorian understood the hole being away from angels deal. So long as you stayed away from the angels human morals started to rub off on you. Dorian found that humans seamed more willing to listen. "With all do respect, Lucian, if you did attempt to throw me out the window I would have your wings pined in a matter of seconds. I find that this works quite effectively against angels that want to kill me. At least they leave me alone afterwards." Dorian partly joked back to Lucian, after all Dorian told the truth. Dorian moved his arms slowly testing the bandages that Lucian wrapped to make sure they wouldn't fall off in the night or tomorrows events if there be any. After deeming the bandages fit, Dorian walked over to his stuff he had left on the toilet. He pulled out his little pouch and pulled out a rather loose sweater, a sliver cross (blessed by a priest that helped him when he was first banished from the angels) and of course on of his precious guns. This one had a cross etched into, and silver bullets with crosses in them as well. All of this he had blessed. He slipped it into his belt and left the safety on. He turned to face Lucian while he pulled on his sweater and cross. "I apologies for being rude. It's not every day I meet a angel willing to help me let alone fight all urges to kill me. My name is Dorian, Dorian Gray."