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Chapter Text

Devil & the Deep Dark Ocean

Chapter 1

Mizrak was sitting with his back firmly pressed against the headboard of the four poster bed. The curtains that could separate the sleeping space from the rest of the room were fully drawn, as were the curtains over the windows. Even moonlight was alarmingly bright now… he found his mind wandering even as he forced himself to read through the familiar lines of scripture that had once brought him comfort. It was Isaiah, passages he had memorized thoroughly enough to recite them on command- the way he had on that faithful day they met. Despite still knowing every word, he had still demanded Olrox find him a copy, that it was the least he could do after he- Mizrak felt the new fangs as he ground his teeth.

It had been less than a week since Mizrak had marched into battle alongside people who were barely human, to confront what seemed to be the harbinger of the apocalypse. He had been fully prepared to die, but his restless soul had found a level of peace knowing he could at least stand on the righteous side of the battle. It was a peace Olrox had forsaken when he had appeared before Mizrak to bid him farewell, to tempt him with the coward’s way out just as a devil would. The act should have indisputably proven Olrox’s evil nature, but in that moment, seeing Olrox with the brand still healing on his sullen face and hearing him speak once more of the trauma that had befallen his people while he was human, Mizrak could only wish him the best.

The hope that Olrox would show up to help had never left Mizrak. It had been a foolish thing he had pushed away- a waste of his faith that he reasoned would never be rewarded. But he had come. Seeing Olrox arrive on the battlefield had been like seeing the sun break through the clouds. He had been that monstrous thing, but the sight of him had been unmistakable and seeing the way he ruthlessly scorched Drolta, saving one of their strongest teammates in the process, had made a warmth creep up inside Mizrak and latch onto his very soul. In the heat of everything else, Mizrak had found the vampire’s presence rather invigorating. Just like when they had fought together in the church, Olrox seemed to breathe power into him and support him whether Mizrak wanted him to or not.

“Fear not for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous hand.” (Isaiah 41:10) Mizrak stared at the line he was reading with some conflict. The thought had been so arrogant, it had blossomed in his wicked heart the moment he had seen Olrox shoot lightning from his serpentine eyes, but Mizrak had believed in that instant that Olrox truly could be some kind of God. Mizrak had seen a lot recently, and he could still hear Olrox petulantly informing him that “there were many demons that were once Gods, and some that still were.” He snorted at the idea, no wonder he’d been stabbed to death for entertaining such fantasies.

Mizrak wasn’t dead though. The supposed vampire demon god had claimed Mizrak for his own kingdom, and though it wasn’t Hell Mizrak wasn’t sure how different it would really be in the long run. He was ruthlessly conflicted, he knew his soul was already damned, and Olrox did seem kinder than the devil, but this was still eternal damnation. The first few days had been nightmarish, everything was so bright and so terribly loud and the smell of iron was everywhere. His nails were so long he could barely use his hands and he kept cutting himself unintentionally only to watch in horror as his flesh healed. He had been reduced to a creature of pure impulse, a monster, and would awaken from dreamstates to find himself with his fangs buried in some part of Olrox’s body- or worse something other than his fangs. It was humiliating.

Thankfully, his senses had been returning and apart from finding himself consistently over-stimulated and easily agitated, Mizrak’s thoughts were his own and under control. Mizrak did have questions pertaining to his new nature, but even thinking of them felt sinful so he had only pushed them down. Olrox had tried speaking with him recently on the matter, about hunting in particular, but it had only upset him to the point where he had been hurling more than insults until the vampire left him alone. Yes, Mizrak was -constantly- hungry and he knew he couldn’t simply feed off of Olrox forever, but he didn’t want to cope with it. Was he really supposed to drain the blood from humans just to survive? It was too much! Perhaps Hell would have been a better place for him after all.

The thought alone made Mizrak nearly curl in on himself. Selfish as it was, he reasoned being locked away in Olrox’s commandeered chateau was still preferable to whatever torment awaited him in Hell. He’d already accepted that he didn’t want to die and even if coming up with a reason for doing so was still difficult, it was a powerful instinct to resist. Mizrak wanted to live, he had felt the sinful truth the moment he had felt the sunlight from the window burn him, and then turned to shamelessly drink from the man that could heal him. Hell, he had known it the moment he’d been stabbed- the certain fear of death- the longing for someone to reach out and save him- and the relief when someone actually had.

Mizrak did want to have a civil conversation with Olrox about everything. Particularly what he planned on doing now that their fight was over and the future was endless before them, as well as what he expected Mizrak to do. They had certainly managed conversation in the past, Olrox was alarmingly easy to talk to, but Mizrak was still so angry. Olrox had saved him, he’d proven that he was trustworthy, even that he had a soul- but he’d also made Mizrak into this thing. The implications of all of it were enough to make his head explode, and now that his mind was clearing, even looking at Olrox’s beautiful but unquestionably serpentine face was enough to set him off.

Mizrak felt his pointed ears flick before the sound even registered and it annoyed him to find himself already pressed to the bedroom door straining to hear more and determine the threat. He had barely left his room since he had come to the place but he knew despite the size and location Olrox had kept it completely empty. For what purpose Mizrak wasn’t certain, but he certainly preferred the quiet to whatever he heard moving around the ground floor. Olrox wasn’t here, he’d been gone since sundown, Mizrak could just tell, so he knew it couldn’t be him. Judging from the sound of the footsteps it sounded like two or three men, likely searching empty extravagant buildings for supplies and survivors.

They probably were located close to where the battle took place. Olrox likely hadn’t wanted to move him much while he’d been wounded and they certainly hadn’t left to his knowledge. It made sense that there would be reconnaissance, after all there was still a war going on. The head of the beast had been severed but the wicked body was still writhing around giving the revolution something to clean up as they brought their new ways to the old world. Mizrak recalled a time when he had referred to them as the godless mob, now he only wanted them to succeed. Slowly he peeled himself away from the door, hoping that these intruders wouldn’t be thorough in their search and leave him alone in the dark.

“Are you sure this is the place? Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.” Mizrak heard a voice say. His ears were so sensitive, he could tell the sound was beneath him and some distance away, but it was as clear as if he was standing beside the speaker. He couldn’t ignore it.

“That’s a good sign when you’re looking for vampires. They aren’t like people, you won’t find food or waste. We should search it, orders are to kill them all so people can get back to their lives without fear. They’re vermin and Paris has enough rats already.” Mizrak felt his stomach turn at the words.

“I’d rather be hunting rats,” another replied, confirming to Mizrak that there were three.

He heard them start to move and he started to panic. As much as part of him still agreed that most vampires were vermin, he certainly did not like the idea that the sole intention these people had for being here was to find and kill something like him. Mizrak had no desire to fight who he assumed were members of the revolution just out doing their civic duty. He also knew better than to try and reason with them and was concluding it would be best to just try to hide or try to avoid them until they got bored and left.

It wouldn’t be so easy though, his new body was still strange to him and he was already aware how loud and clumsy he currently was compared to his former grace. He wasn’t like Olrox who could merely dissipate into smoke and fade into the dark as he pleased- where even was Olrox? Couldn’t he just impossibly show up just as he was needed like he always did and deal with this? Mizrak listened to the group draw woefully closer, up the stairs as they chatted, and he did his best to back himself into the most obscure corner and try to be still.

Hiding like this made him disgusted with himself, he really did feel like a rat as he stood stiffly in the shadows. They were getting closer, but they were notably more difficult to hear because the thumping of their feet against the floor boards had gotten so deafening. It was almost hypnotic the way it lulled him into a more relaxed physical state. Mizrak could tell where they were, which doors they opened, and as they drew closer he started to smell them. It occurred to him then, that these men were weak, and that they’d had the audacity to come into his home- with intent to kill.

Their overconfidence had them separate to investigate more rooms and that’s when his body decided to move. He prowled forward and slid through the door with a stealth he didn’t even notice enough to appreciate as he followed the solitary thumping to the closest intruder. Mizrak’s thinking had changed. These were the men that had come from far and wide to burn churches and put priests under the guillotine. They had always been hunting him, the church was the only home Mizrak had and these people had stopped at nothing to raise them to the ground. They didn’t care about who lived within them, or the ideas they cherished, they had simply barged in and treated him and his brothers the same as rats.

This entire situation was -their- fault, if Mizrak was really thinking about it. He had been human then but they had still thought of him as vermin, as something vile to be cleansed from the land. They had cornered him, threatened to burn everything he held dear, and kill him for what he believed. It was because of that pressure he had sided with a madman like Emmanueal to begin with. If they hadn’t started this damn revolution, spilled innocent blood, then Mizrak wouldn’t even be this way. Righteous anger brewed inside of him as he wondered how much people like them would like being hunted.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Blood truly was much better blue. It had been some time since Olrox had eaten so hedonistically, he almost felt sick. It couldn’t be helped- Enough of the wealthy humans had sided with Erzebet, he didn’t really need another reason, and there weren’t any children. All her followers were better off dead, human or otherwise, and the group he’d shamelessly devoured had been rather heartlessly tormenting a beggar in an obscure back alley so… Olrox tried not to chuckle at the terrified look the man had given him after he’d shifted back from his snake form after swallowing four- maybe five? Men whole. At least he would have a good story to tell.

Olrox had also been legitimately starving. He had been injured enough in the final battle and taking the time to feed and heal himself hadn’t occurred to him once Mizrak had been injured. Turning him had also taken an exceptional amount of blood and continuing to feed him had been taxing. Olrox hadn’t wanted to leave him alone for more than one reason, but he knew better than to hunt close to where he was hiding, it drew unwanted attention too quickly. Olrox had still done it, there had been no choice, but Mizrak did seem to be stable enough now for him to venture further. He -had- been reading.

As Olrox traveled he had been lightheaded enough to fantasize the impossible scenario that Mizrak had chosen to come along with him. That a once holy knight could somehow possibly be at peace going out into the night to hunt for blood. Olrox had overcome such a feeling long ago, though he would never subject Mizrak to the kind of torment and humiliation his maker had forced him to endure to make him realize what he was… Perhaps someday, Mizrak could find his own way to determine ‘food’ from ‘humans’, just as Olrox had, and obtain some level of peace. Maybe he could then even forgive Olrox for-

Olrox knew it was selfish to envision, and he really did feel guilty for what he’d done. The idea of turning Mizrak had always teased him, but creating a fledgling out of such a passionate -human- soul had been an experiment he had performed before and it had ended in utter failure. Things were going better than the last time but- Olrox tried not to think about the last time, it was still too early to know anything. At least Mizrak hadn’t run off the first night, and even if he was still technically ‘nursing’- Mizrak was satisfying his appetite heartily enough to show he wanted to live.

Making Mizrak into a vampire was something Olrox had never felt right about doing. He had wanted to, it was simply his nature to preserve and reinforce what he held dear, but after doing it once to another, Olrox could freshly recall what a horror it was for anyone to awaken as such a creature. For him the memory of being turned was ancient. Time allowed many things to fade, but Olrox could still recall how disgusted he had felt to first behold his own undead body.

Nevermind the weight of the grief and humiliation that came with knowing he- a high priest and revered God of a culture that worshiped the sun, would never stand in its warmth again. That he- who had never yearned for or required blood sacrifice, like some of the others, would now thirst for it for all eternity just for the right to exist. It was a cruel thing to do to anyone, but it was better than dying- probably.

Even as Olrox had carried Mizrak- to what was presumably the man’s death bed, Olrox had fought with himself over the decision of turning him. As he stared down at the pool of crimson in Mizrak’s abdomen he kept recalling memories of Mizrak in the sun. His sword gleaming as he trained in the courtyard, his olive skin glistening as he prepared food for everyone under its beams, and when he would turn his back and walk into it, out of Olrox's reach. Perhaps if Mizrak had been walking into the sun, into the light of the God he believed so deeply in, Olrox could have let him go- maybe, but that hadn’t been the case. The man had also confessed his fear of death, a lack of faith that his own God would save him even after what he sacrificed, and Olrox would never reinforce this insane concept that dying for any reason was honorable or meaningful.

Part of Olrox dared to believe Mizrak had wanted him to do it, that somehow the man had decided to trust him with his very soul, but it was far too childish of a dream to lean into. Mizrak had confessed his fear of death, but perhaps he had only been looking for comfort in his final moments, perhaps simply holding his hand would have been enough.

Regardless of the guilt, Olrox still didn’t regret it. Mizrak hadn’t walked into the sun, he’d come back to him and continued to shamelessly use every part of him even as he cursed their very wretched existence. It was delightfully charming, every moment was a surprise with Mizrak, but it was also trying because Olrox didn’t know what to do now.

The obvious thing would be to return to America and take Mizrak with him. There was still a war going on, politics were a mess, but Olrox had a much better standing there. It was his homeland, so his powers would be stronger. He had his own Estates and followers that would be delighted to hear he had spared them another European invasion. There were other vampires there- civilized ones, and others he could trust. However, even if Mizrak wanted to go there would be complications.

Mizrak was still a young vampire and Olrox -could- get them both across the ocean but it would be dangerous for both of them. Ideally, having a few months to ‘raise’ his new fledgling and teach him how to survive on familiar land would be preferable to uprooting him from everything he knew.

Mizrak would still struggle to cross rivers on his own at first, but the ocean was easy enough to cross. It was the sun that was the problem, being out on open water for likely months was daunting on any ship since there was nowhere to go if something went wrong. There was also the question of how to feed them and who to trust aboard since piloting a ship needed many hands and he was a serpent, not a spider. Olrox was mulling over the complications of it, as well as considering the disgusting fact vampires -could- live off of animals- when he felt it.

Olrox had always had a sense of when Mizrak was in danger. He would never admit it but he had stolen just a drop of Mizrak’s blood on their first night together. The man had been too sweet, and doing so would mean Olrox could always find him. He’d always been over protective. Since Mizrak had become his fledgling, this sense had only strengthened. It wasn’t such that he could see into Mizrak’s thoughts, but Olrox could feel the tempest of his heart like an echo inside of him. Mizrak’s emotions had been in disarray since he’d risen, but this was different.

The sharpness of the fear was enough to have him riding the wind back to their current hideout. Olrox was berating himself because he knew that someone must have noticed him hunting. He thought he had disposed of any incriminating evidence but humans were particularly sharp when it came to spotting such things right now. It didn’t help that the culprit could also very likely be other vampires out for revenge due to his betrayal- he never should have left to begin with. As he pushed himself faster, Olrox felt the familiar fear inside him start to shift into something darker and he had to fight the weight of the dread that threatened to pull him down.

~

When Olrox arrived at the house it was quiet and he didn’t like it. Mizrak’s emotions had sparked off in his head like a firework. Fear, anger, hatred- all of the things Olrox wanted to keep away from him, but now they were silent. It made him start to feel sick and the feeling only worsened when he found Mizrak’s room empty. Thankfully it was undisturbed but the smell of blood struck him and he followed it until he found the body.

It didn’t bother him, it wasn’t Mizrak’s, but whoever it belonged to was certainly dead, and fully drained of blood. The scene made him narrow brows and he tried to keep his mind clear as he followed the scent of blood to the next room. Olrox had certainly seen worse, some necks were certainly broken and one body was nearly missing an arm, but it didn’t phase him. He floated around, taking it all in with some reservations about how he felt about it and what it implied happened here. The main objective was still to locate Mizrak, and since Olrox did know he was here, and could confirm all uninvited parties were deceased, he called out to him.

“Where are you, my love?” Olrox was grateful he sounded calm because he honestly wanted to break down and cry, he didn’t want to go through this again. At first there was only the sound of his own blood racing in his ears but he heard something rustle and in seconds he was forcing open a barricaded door. It was simple enough to do. What was difficult was keeping himself from falling to his knees beside Mizrak and dragging that blood soaked heap of a man into his arms and start weeping.

“I’m in Hell,” Olrox heard Mizrak’s voice crack. Olrox had ventured rather close and he did crouch down, but he was mindful enough to keep some space between them. Mizrak had his knees pulled into his chest and his forehead resting upon them as he looked at his feet. As down trodden as he was, he did look remarkably healthy and Olrox reasoned it was best not to comment on it even if it did give him some relief to see the glow in his olive skin. Three grown men was an impressive hunt- the man had quite the appetite even for someone of his size.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he tried, resisting the outrageously powerful urge to reach out and touch him. Mizrak huffed,

“You’re the one that put me here- did you send them here so this would happen?!” he suddenly snapped his head up and his red eyes flashed in a threat.

Olrox didn’t flinch, but he did slightly tilt his head as he dissected the meaning of the accusation.

“That would have been clever,” he answered carefully. “I confess, I did want you to eat something but I wouldn’t have sent so many, and I would have preferred to be present.” Mizrak actually snarled at him, and Olrox tried not to find it completely disheartening.

“Why?! So you could get some sick pleasure out of watching me-” Mizrak cut himself off and jerked his face away. He pressed himself into the corner he had huddled into and Olrox noticed he still couldn’t control his fangs enough to put them away and that the blood in his beard was only his own. Mizrak was chewing through his own lip but when he’d fed he hadn’t wasted a drop and it was somewhat marvelous to behold.

“I would want to watch you, but just to make sure you didn’t get hurt,” Olrox calmly explained. “Are you hurt?” he asked, reaching out only to retract his touch lest he damage something irreparably.
“Can I even be hurt?” Mizrak hissed miserably, still looking away. Olrox was about to assure him that he certainly could be, in more ways than one, when Mizrak seemed to deflate somewhat. “One of them did stab me,” he nearly pouted before he sighed and the glimmer of his crimson eyes connected with Olrox’s for just a moment before darting away. “I think I tore his arm off,” he added far too casually and it was only some miracle that kept Olrox from snorting with laughter once he’d spoken.

“Did it hurt?” Olrox decided to ask as he inched closer. Mizrak noticed he was moving closer and finally did meet his eyes. It was absolutely a glare, but it was comforting to look at him none the less.
“I healed,” he snapped and he really was much too appealing to look at, Olrox tried not to swoon.

“That’s good. How do you feel now?” he asked and he managed to keep his face blank when Mizrak’s lips tightened into a frown.

“Like I’m in Hell. Because of you!” he shouted and Olrox let it blow through him.

“Otherwise healthy though?” He asked kindly, allowing himself a small smile. Graciously it did fluster Mizrak enough that his initial rebuttal was silenced and he fell into what appeared to be one of his long brooding silences. Good, he seemed to be unharmed and remarkably calm for what he had just endured. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Olrox pried as gently as he could because he did want to know, he just didn’t want to escalate things further than they needed to be just yet.

Mizrak was silent for some time but Olrox was patient. Eventually Mizrak did explain the scenario and it made Olrox start thinking more seriously about leaving this place as soon as possible. They could even just return to Machecoul for now, it was right on the coast and it was much less populated.

“I can only say they shouldn’t have come in here looking for trouble,” Olrox replied once Mizrak had recounted the details of his first hunt.

“Probably not,” he muttered hopelessly, sounding very tired. Olrox only wanted to hold him. “I- don’t want to do that again,” he lamented so softly and Olrox nearly wept.

“I have heard of some vampires sustaining themselves off of only animals. It’s not very efficient and you’ll likely be weaker than if you drank from humans, but- if it eases your heart it is an option.” Olrox wasn’t particularly happy to share this bit of information with Mizrak. He wanted his warrior monk to be as healthy as he could be and encouraging him to eat poorly was unappealing.

“Why don’t you do that then?” he curtly asked and Olrox concluded they had better not put off this talk any longer. He steadied himself because he intended to be honest.

“Because I find the taste revolting and I don’t like being weak,” he answered flatly, noting that Mizrak did look somewhat appalled. “I don’t enjoy killing humans,” he clarified, “I find senseless slaughter rather upsetting but I do know what I am and what I need. It may sound arrogant, but when I hunt, I seek out people who I feel the world would be better off without and justify it to myself as such. I won’t lie to you, the thirst for blood will never stop, you can only manage it. If you don’t develop a way to do so, eventually it will consume you and you’ll just end up picking off what’s available- like an animal.”
Mizrak flinched at the word and Olrox had expected him to. Mizrak had thrown that word in his face enough times for him to know that it hurt to be called such.

“I’m not an animal,” he protested but it sounded pathetic and most of his anger had faded. Olrox refrained from mentioning that finally eating properly had probably settled him down significantly.

“Of course not,” Olrox assured him, “but you are a vampire.”

“You don’t need to remind me!” Mizrak cried out, but he did seem looser, almost approachable. Olrox still kept his distance and waited. “Where did you even go? You said you wouldn’t leave me here,” Mizrak whined and it softened Olrox’s heart to hear it.

“I’m here now,” he hummed pleasantly, in spite of his melancholy.

Finally he allowed one of his hands to touch Mizrak’s arm and grip him. It was pleasing to feel a gentle warmth coming off of his skin, the fresh blood had livened his body to the point where it nearly felt human again. More so, it was elating when Mizrak didn’t recoil or pull away from him, and overwhelming when he went as far to softly lean into the contact. “Let me get a bath ready for you, you can wash up and change while I clean up and then we can talk more, or I can leave you alone for tonight.” Olrox squeezed him gently before adding, “I did find you some clothes that should fit, I’ll leave them where you can change and then you can call for me when you're ready. I won’t go far.”

As he moved to stand an iron grip seized the wrist and held his hand where it was. The gesture shocked him so much that Olrox nearly lost his balance and fell into him. That outcome would have been preferable, but he still managed not to even wobble as he stared at the place he was being held. Then he looked at Mizrak who was still hiding his face in his knees. Words had escaped Olrox and he opened his mouth to question it only to hear Mizrak murmur,

“Just- stay here a bit longer,” Olrox would happily stay with him forever.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Mizrak could feel himself being shoved ruthlessly forwards. His entire body ached terribly, like he had been overworked and beaten, even his face felt swollen. There was a tight pressure around his wrists, they were bound and the rope restraining them was dragging him along without mercy. He couldn’t really see, it was dark, but his eyes had adjusted enough that he could tell something had been pulled over his head. All around him he could hear the chatter of what sounded to be a particularly large crowd and as he was trying to make out some of the disjointed words, he stumbled. His ankles were manacled as well.

He was trying to make sense of it as he continued to trudge forward. He gathered that he had somehow been captured, that he was chained within an indeterminably long prison line and being marched toward some inevitable punishment. He could smell smoke and what was unmistakably burning flesh and he remembered with some dread that he was nothing but a wretched sinner, abandoned by even God. It then occurred to him that it didn't matter how he’d gotten here, he was always destined to end up in a Hellish place like this.

Acceptance for his fate possessed him and he let his blocked eyes look only to the ground as he acquiesced to the forward movement. His body ticked side to side, counting the seconds that passed as he was led onward. This ‘just’ fate had always been in store for him: he had defied God in every way. He’d done nothing significant to redeem himself in the battle against the antichrist, he’d run from the judgment that had been meant for him, and now he had killed. He had killed for no other reason than to preserve his own sinful life and penance had at last come to deliver justice, he tried to find comfort in that.

The bag covering his head was suddenly torn off, and the blinding brightness of whatever flames surrounded him blocked out any clear view of his surroundings. Mizrak tried to shield his face from the light, but his hands were so heavily weighted by what bound them that he couldn’t even lift them a few centimeters. He felt so weak, like his body had been starving for a time far longer than he could remember. He remained on his feet and slowly the scene of the crowd surrounding him became visible and Mizrak shook from the loathing they projected. He was on an elevated wooden platform, the type that would normally house a guillotine for an execution, and he already knew why he had been brought here.

The language everyone was screaming was foreign to him, which was strange because he did know a few languages, but he could understand what was being said. That even before he was a monster he was a filthy sodomite that had helped a corrupt man raise demons out of Hell itself. Beside him, in a similar dialect that he couldn’t understand, a priest was reading off a list as he was dragged backwards. Mizrak could only accept his fate, they were all right about him, he should have died, but when he turned to see the method to kill him, a cold fear truly did grip him. Instead of the quick brutality of the french guillotine there was nothing but a wooden stake, staked with hay, and a hooded man that could only be the devil, standing beside it with a lit torch.

“Witch,” was the only word the priest spoke that he could understand, and he said it with such finality Mizrak shook his head in protest and tried to shout. No sound came from his lips though, and his weak body only shook with terror as thunder started to rumble in the dark. As he was wrestled to the post and ruthlessly tied to it the crowd began to chant the word again and again and it was so loud that it became the truth. Mizrak had danced with the Devil, he had drank from his cup of immortal sin because he’d wanted to live, and this punishment-it couldn’t be justice..

The thought sounded like trumpets of hope in his mind but they were much too late to save him. The ropes were impossibly tight and the hay had already been lit and he knew he was crying because he couldn’t even move. Mizrak had tried to repent, to make things right in the end, he just didn’t want to die! It was the same reason he’d sided with Emmanuel- because he wanted to live, was that really his sin? To want to remain in the world God created, even as a shadow?

“Someone help me!” he tried to shout into the crowd of people who seemed delighted to watch him burn. Even the heavens seemed to rage with delight as the clouds rolled in and lighting burst inside of them. Not a single face held sympathy, they chidded him as he choked on the smoke and grew dizzy. It was suffocating him.

The flames were only barely licking him but the pain and sheer panic of knowing his death was imminent put him into a shrieking frenzy. He only noticed the pouring rain because the screams of others around him had suddenly grown louder than his own. The thick droplets were heavy on his skin, dousing the fire and cooling him as all around him it fell as jagged hail that chased all the spectators away. Beside him, those who tied him lie impacted with shards far too large to be natural, and Mizrak had to question everything. The sound of a slash led to the ropes falling away. He fell to his hands and knees on the wooden boards and when he looked up there was only a blinding green light there pulling him up.

~

“Mizrak!” a voice hammered him back into reality as he was pulled up out of what seemed to be a very deep pool of lukewarm water. The first thing he saw was Olrox’s concerned face, his green eyes widened to such a degree that the emotion was unmistakable even being as disoriented as he was. It was madness to think even in that moment, Mizrak found him beautiful, he just always came to the rescue… The weight of something in Mizrak’s chest and the way it rattled when he tried to draw breath in, soon had him shoving Olrox away from him and gripping the sides of the tub to lean over it.

Mizrak remembered he had been in the bath, a rather deep basin of water Olrox had somehow heated for him, and that he must have drifted off, and what had just happened had been none other than a dream. A warranted dream, he reasoned as he lurched over the side of the tub and vomited up whatever had been sloshing around so heavily inside of him. It was miserable to do so, and though Olrox didn’t touch him again Mizrak could feel those emerald eyes on him as he hacked up what he assumed to be the blood he should have never consumed. When he opened his eyes and looked down however, he saw nothing but slightly soapy water with not even a trace of crimson.

The sight of it baffled him, and Mizrak stared at the wet floor as he gripped the edge of the tub. He must have been sitting there too long, tearing himself apart over the fact that already three men had been consumed to preserve his unholy existence, because he felt the water start to drain away.

“Are you alright?” Olrox’s soothingly deep voice called out to him and felt like he had heard it inside of his mind. “You shouldn’t be able to drown, on account we don’t really breathe, but I would rather you not experiment with such things so early, or by yourself.” Olrox told him, and though he hadn’t said it, Mizrak could hear the word ‘fool’ very clearly between the lines. It was such an absurd thing to learn about himself, that he didn’t have to breathe anymore, Mizrak hadn’t even noticed.

“I wasn’t trying to drown,” he coughed out the words, “I just- fell asleep.” Mizrak lifted his head, climbed out of the tub, and tried not to glare at the creature who had insufferably saved him yet again.
Olrox was slowly approaching him, an offered towel resting in his upturned palms, and his eyes politely on one of the far walls. Becoming fully aware that he was still completely naked, Mizrak snatched the towel from him, then dried and covered himself quickly.

“Perhaps next time I’ll join you, if only to keep your head above water,” Olrox teased him, folding his arms respectfully behind his back but leaning forward enough that Mizrak could feel his meaning.
“You managed well enough from a distance,” he countered, trying to press down the heat that came over him whenever Olrox tried to charm him.

“Yes, but you still swallowed quite a bit of water, and now someone has to clean the floor,” he purred, daring to drift closer. Mizrak took a step back.

“I’m certain that such a ‘powerful’ vampire can easily manage that as well,” he warned, pulling his arms close to his chest as if to defend himself. Olrox looked him over, his brows dipped only once, and then relief spread across his face.

“Your faith in me is quite touching,” Olrox answered sweetly and Mizrak cursed the shiver it sent though his entire body. “Did you find the clothes I left for you?” he asked, “Since we could both likely benefit from a change in attire,” as he spoke Olrox gestured to his own clothes that were now completely drenched and sullied. Mizrak felt a twang of guilt at the sight, knowing intuitively that the vampire’s clothes were expensive, unique, and likely precious to him. Now they were ruined because Mizrak was so helpless he’d almost drown in a bathtub, maybe. “Why don’t we take a moment to change, and then reconvene somewhere more comfortable?”

The invitation was too familiar for Mizrak to not think something deeper was implied. He had mixed feelings about the physical space he held with Olrox, the vampire was far too adept at tempting him into something perverse. It was baffling that even now, after what Olrox had done to him, and especially after seeing him transform into that beast, Mizrak still longed for him in forbidden ways. As infuriating as Olrox could be, there was a heavy encompassing warmth that came with standing close to him, a comfort so overbearing Mizrak had never been able to fully trust it.

“And if I wish to retire alone?” he asked, grateful that the flustered energy coming from his infatuation with this demonic beauty sounded more like agitation. Olrox softly smiled, but Mizrak saw his shoulders rise and fall as if he had attempted to hold in a sigh. It made his insides twist and flutter all at once.

“The sun will rise soon,” Olrox breathed. His tone had changed, he sounded disappointed, but resigned, “So I understand if you’re tired and would rather rest alone, but given what happened tonight I would prefer you closer to me. I also feel that we should make plans to relocate as soon as possible. I did clean up and reinforce some things, we are safe, but moving somewhere further from the city would be preferable given our circumstances.”

“Is that so,” Mizrak heard himself mutter bitterly in response. Olrox’s concern was valid, and Mizrak did not like the idea of anyone approaching him as he was now, human or otherwise. It was already clear to him that he lacked the control to restrain himself, and he didn’t need anymore reasons to think of himself as some kind of animal. Moving further from humans was safer for everyone, and it would take them out of a warzone.

Still, it bothered him viciously to know he had no choice but to depend on Olrox, to trust that he was reasonable and kind despite everything he had done, and could still potentially do. “Where- would we go?” he mumbled the question softly.

“If you’re interested, why don’t you get dressed and come find me. Unless you’d rather discuss it as you are. I certainly wouldn’t mind.” Mizrak felt his face grow hot at the words and the smile that came with them. How someone could manage to flirt in such a tense situation was completely beyond him, never mind that they could make it work. Olrox’s gaze was inescapable, it held him so firmly without asking for anything at all and it flickered across his body like sparks he could feel. He shouldn’t have felt so pleased about it.

“Begone from this place, shameless heathen!” he barked because Mizrak was not prepared to cope with any of this. How dare this creature keep storming into his life, saving him from even his own nightmares looking the way he did, and how dare he harbor a soul filled with such wicked love.

Olrox didn’t say anything. His brows did drift upward as he faded to smoke and Mizrak could tell that the insult did hurt him. Olrox was almost ridiculously sensitive to such things, they cut him deeply, and Mizrak used them because they were the only effective weapon he had.

His powerlessness in the face of Olrox had always been daunting to him and Mizrak was a warrior, he instinctively searched for weaknesses in his opponents. Finding Olrox’s had been imperative, and once Mizrak had found it he never hesitated to wield it without mercy. It had a double edge though, and now that Olrox was gone Mizrak felt the bite of it against his heart. Hurting Olrox, seeing him in pain, or God forbid seeing him weep- it was unbearable, and it always had been.

~

Olrox had actually managed to find him two sets of clothes and a banyan for sleeping that all miraculously fit. They were the clothes of average people but they still seemed a bit extravagant to someone like him who had never seen more than the church could give. They contained all the necessary pieces: an undershirt, a waistcoat, breeches, belts, socks and the like. Both outfits had the accompanying overcoats that lacked the embroidery one would see on those belonging to aristocrats, but it was preferable as were the muted colors. There was also one pair of newer looking boots, a heavy cloak he could adorn over everything else. Olrox had also recovered his dagger, sword, and holsters; and left them with everything else.

It was rare for Mizrak to find fitted things that fit his bulk, so he did take his time trying everything on. There had been some impish part of him looking for a mistake, but though all of it was rather snug it did all fit him well enough and it was nice to have clothes that weren’t covered in blood. One of the undershirts was actually rather large so he had committed to that and the black breeches that seemed like the less constricting of the two, for now. The fabric all felt too light, nothing like the chainmail he was used to, and it left him feeling somewhat vulnerable even if Olrox had been generous enough to leave him his weapons.

Mizrak was grateful to have them. He wasn’t so arrogant to believe Olrox would consider him a threat even armed, but the gesture told him that Olrox didn’t think of him as a prisoner. Knowing that much made the idea of seeking him out to hear his plans for the future less daunting, but Mizrak didn’t know if he could stomach it. His own wishes for the future were a blur, Mizrak knew he didn’t want to die but he didn’t want to kill anyone again either. He knew nothing about what it meant to be a vampire and he had never wanted to, but where else could he go? No one would see him as anything other than a monster, he had no interest in mingling with other vampires, and he knew he couldn’t last on his own.

Mizrak tried to distract himself from it for hours. He tried to read, to practice the sword, even to meditate in prayer, but a sense of yearning never left him. The sun had risen hours ago and the soft sounds of Olrox moving around the space had grown silent. It was rather bothersome not to hear him. Mizrak was certain Olrox was present but the silence of his aura was too quiet and Mizrak found the absence of him too disturbing.

Olrox had told him he would wait for him to come, but Mizrak knew the vampire well enough to know he preferred to do things on his own terms and his own timing. Mizrak had been dreading, but also expecting Olrox to grow tired of waiting and come for him. The topics that needed to be discussed were important, he had implied they shouldn’t wait- Plus had he forgotten the horror Mizrak had just endured hours ago?! Had he really just gone to sleep anyway? Or perhaps- could it be Olrox had finally realized that he couldn’t deal with being constantly insulted and attacked by someone so worthless?

Observing himself as acting somewhat childishly, Mizrak opened his door and ventured into the hall. Olrox had cleaned up. The smell of blood was completely gone as he made his way through the house to the room Olrox slept in. It was easy enough to find, like something had been pulling him along, and when Mizrak examined the feeling he hesitated to touch the door at all. This was just like the night he had come to the inn. Emmanuel had released the night creatures into the city after his narcissistic rant and Mizrak had run to the only person that had promised to give him comfort and more importantly- answers. He hadn’t wanted to listen to the truth from a snake’s mouth then either- but Olrox had given it to him, all of it.

“I’m here,” he announced himself softly as he pushed open the door. He wondered if he should have knocked as he closed it behind him. The room was stripped of light, but he could see perfectly with his new eyes. The curtains on the bed were drawn but Olrox was definitely here. The smokey mix of vanilla and chili peppers that was as impossibly delicious as the man himself filled the entire room and flooded into Mizrak threatening to drown him for real. It soothed his tumultuous heart, wrapped around him, and beseeched him forward enough for him to brush one of the curtains aside and look in.

Repressing the hum of contentment wasn’t possible once Mizrak saw him. Olrox was asleep, his long dark hair spread out like wings and a book resting under his hand in the center of his chest like he had dropped it once he’d grown too weary. He was above the covers, and still dressed similarly to Mizrak in his flashy indigo breeches, undershirt, and crisp white stockings. Mizrak found it somewhat amusing that Olrox chose to wear jewelry even when he slept, he could be so vain. As Mizrak crawled into bed, the scent of Olrox too irresistible to not venture closer to, he reasoned the man deserved to be.

Seeing Olrox in such a vulnerable state was something he had never before witnessed with such clarity. They had certainly spent time in bed together, but it had always been a rush to escape once the sun rose. Mizrak had begrudgingly woken up confused in his room every evening since he’d been turned, but Olrox usually rose before him.

Currently Olrox could pass for dead; he was so perfectly still, but Mizrak could see life glowing radiantly off his dark golden skin. His elegant brows had relaxed, giving his exotic angular face the softer and more feminine beauty that had no place being there, begging to be kissed for all eternity. His throat was the same way, without the cravatte it was so delicate and slender for a man of his mass.

The rest of Olrox, just the sheer size of him, was erotically masculine. Mizrak had been staring at his face to avoid even looking at the exposed portion of his chest, leering at his bare throat was already too much. Even with all his power and elegance, if Olrox had been some scrawny waif Mizrak could have resisted him completely. Mizrak didn’t yearn for some slender delicate thing- he was painfully aware of what he liked and Olrox had all of it. He was one of the tallest men Mizrak had ever seen, and even if he wasn’t overly bulky there was no way he hadn’t been formidable even as a human. Just from the defined way his muscles snaked around his physique, Mizrak could tell, Olrox had worked for his strength.

Just another reason to trust him, Mizrak’s heart whispered to him softly and he winced from the way it shook him. Olrox had evidently just been waiting for him like he’d said he would, and he was sleeping so heavily he didn’t even notice another person leering at him so closely.

“-He must be exhausted-,” Mizrak found himself thinking as the memories of the trauma they’d both endured sloshed into him like waves. Olrox always came to save him but his powers weren’t limitless, he had told Mizrak himself. Yet he kept using them, to fight Erzabet, to save him from the devil, and now tonight.

Perhaps after what had happened earlier, it was better for Mirak to be closer to him for now like he’d said. It did make sense logically, but he had made it seem so sexual in the moment and it was much too overwhelming. Mizrak doubted Olrox had sent those men to the house to entice him, he wasn’t so cruel, and nothing was more evident to Mizrak than the fact Olrox did want to keep him safe. That singular truth gave him some assurance, and Mizrak at last settled beside him in defeat.

It was rather challenging not to simply lie on top of him, but Mizrak didn’t want to wake him or allow himself to give into such things. He was still unreasonably close for how lucid he felt, but he was far enough away to have his own pillow. He was on his side, still watching Olrox’s perfectly unmoving face.

“Do you want to talk?” Olrox asked him softly, without moving or opening his eyes. It didn’t even startle him.

“You know I don’t like when you do that,” Mizrak replied, referring to the way Olrox could just talk inside of his head whenever he chose to. It was harmless, his private thoughts were not something the vampire could access, but it was so intimate.

“This is easier right now, it seems my body is still waking up,” the tinder of his voice hummed inside Mizrak once more and a pleasant chill rippled across his body. The words were somewhat concerning though, and Mizrak wanted to know what he meant.

“Are you- hurt?” he asked, this time as a thought, and consenting to such infernal closeness wasn’t so terrible.

“Of course not, just tired. I have been busy as of late.” Olrox hummed.

“Then- shouldn’t you rest,” Mizrak redirected as evenly as he could. Olrox didn’t open his eyes. “You- seem like you need it.” Mizrak fought not to bite his lip as he replied.

“Are you concerned?” It was almost a laugh. “I didn’t hear you come in but you are my fledgling, so you don’t trigger the same threat warnings as others. Furthermore I believe you in particular have always been rather adept at catching me off guard, so don’t worry- I doubt anyone else could get close without me knowing. We're safe.” Olrox reassured him. Mizrak wanted to argue with him, because how could he have known so precisely what to say?! But Mizrak was still worried.

“You don’t think more will come?” he asked warily in his real voice. Finally, emerald eyes fluttered open and though they did look hazy, they reflected nothing but that infernal kindness. Olrox still didn’t move,

“More will always come,” he answered flatly and aloud, “but, not today.” Olrox finished with too much confidence and Mizrak was pressed to demand why, when the answer came on its own. “While I was out taking care of our little mishap I happened upon Alucard who is sympathetic enough to keep the soldiers away for now. He agrees we can’t stay here though, dangerous for everyone. He’ll be here after dark to assist us in whatever plans we determine to move forward with.”

While he was speaking, Olrox’s body seemed to thaw and once he’d finished he arched and stretched it out like he had only just woken. He settled with a groan and his emerald eyes fluttered with some dreariness as he noticed the book he was holding and set it aside. Mizrak stiffened as Olrox rolled languidly onto his side to face him, the shirt he was wearing only pulling and exposing him further as he sank into the fluffy bedding. He did look sluggish, and Mizrak honestly felt guilty about it, but what he had said did spark many unanswered questions.

“You mean- you don’t have a plan already?” Mizrak asked him, torn between the urge to bury his face in that raven hair and scramble away in terror.

“I have my own agenda,” Olrox confirmed as the glimmer in his eyes reflected the way Mizrak was looking at him. “But I assumed you would as well, and even if it doesn’t run alongside my own I would like to ensure you can pursue it without much concern for your wellbeing. I haven’t sired many, but I promise you are not bound to me nor do you owe me anything. You’re free to do what you like, but if you do wish to part ways, I would appreciate you accepting my help in doing so early-on, if only for your own sake.”

Hearing that information was rather surprising, and Mizrak found himself gazing a bit too dreamily into Olrox’s eyes as he spoke. Mizrak had been expecting to simply have to follow his new ‘master’ wherever he went and do his best to survive. The church was somewhat like that, they took you in and gave you what you could, but there were rules to be followed and ideals to uphold, so Mizrak assumed this would be no different. Everything with Olrox was always too good to be true, and it was a feeling he’d never been able to fully trust.

“You would just let me go?” he questioned with some aghast. Olrox wouldn’t even allow death to take him, did he really expect Mizrak to believe him?

“I would take great measures to ensure you could go safely, which could seem invasive, but if that is what you want, I won’t stop you.” Mizrak scoffed at the audacity and Olrox continued, “I would obviously much prefer it if you chose to stay close to me, as it will be much easier to keep you alive, and as I’ve said: I don’t want you to die.”

“You’ve certainly proven that,” Mizrak replied sharply, trying his best not to be blown away by the look of sheer sincerity Olrox wore on his face. He noticed his words were as sharp as always when they struck the vampire, and he tried to ease away from it. “What- is your agenda?” he decided to ask because if Olrox was so keen to give him a choice he wanted to know what it entailed.

“As I’ve told you I’ve always intended to return to North America. It is my home and there are responsibilities and affairs I need to return to. The New World is going through its own revolution, I only came here to stop history from repeating itself. My people have seen enough invading monsters from the East, and since the ‘vampire messiah’ has been slain the only thing left to do is return and plan to confront whatever comes next.”

“You were always here as her enemy then?” Mizrak asked him, feeling yet another surge of guilt upon hearing this. Olrox calmly nodded.

“She knew who I was. I do have a reputation, but those closest to me know it’s mostly for show. Terrifying Gods do defer some threats, unfortunately just not the worst of them. I used her interest in me to get close to her and find out what she wanted. Had I known how powerful she was at the start, or that all my worst fears about her intentions were true, I may have approached her differently. Fortunately it did still work out in our favor- thanks to a Belmont no less.”

“And you,” Mizrak heard himself saying. He was seeing the pieces slide together, Olrox warning him in the courtyard, stealing the book from Emmanuel to put it into the hands of people who could do some good with it, charming his way through Erzebet’s court and spying on her directly, only to risk exposure just to save his life. Richter may have dealt the crushing final blow but he had only been able to succeed because Olrox and the others had helped pave the way for him to do so.

“You as well,” Olrox assured him and Mizrak felt his face scrunch.

“I didn’t do anything,” he insisted, because he didn’t feel like he had. If he had fought back sooner, confronted Emmanuel immediately about how he felt about the workings of that machine, perhaps the worst could have been avoided all together. Thinking about it made Mizrak curl in on himself. “I sided with an egotistical lunatic because I wanted to survive. I knew what he was doing would only offend the heavens, that God would never approve, but I chose to believe him because I was weak and-” Mizrak stopped himself because he had repeated the same mistake with Olrox. He had been shamefully afraid to die, and grabbed the hand of whoever pulled him to safety.

“Wanting to survive doesn’t make you weak, my love.” Olrox told him and the word slammed into his heart with so much force Mizrak nearly sobbed. “I have told you, only fools run knowingly towards their deaths. Deducing when to run away or ally yourself with someone questionable doesn’t make you weak or a coward, it just makes you smart enough to buy the time and collect the resources to solve the problem yourself later. You are strong -because- you survived.” Mizrak couldn’t believe him, he didn’t feel strong at all. Olrox’s voice was just much too comforting and his hand was slowly slithering closer to Mizrak’s own.

Olrox had always preached such ideals to him, that dying for a cause would be meaningless. It was offensive considering that Mizrak, as well as everyone around him, insisted that there was no greater honor than giving one’s life in the name of God. Only a complete egoist would value their own existence enough to preserve it when it could be spent serving a holy mission. However, after Mizrak had confronted Emmanuel in the cemetery and seen his brothers, who had given their lives to God only to be sold to the devil by a madman, slowly decomposing in the earth, he could only think of how their deaths had meant nothing.

“You think you’ve made me stronger then?” Mizrak asked woefully. He already knew that his abilities far exceeded human limits, but the cost- he was distracted when Olrox dared to brush his fingertips over his knuckles and then rest against the back of his hand.

“I think I helped you survive,” Olrox hummed, stroking where he touched so delicately and Mizrak stared, unmoving as he did it.

“Why?” Mizrak snapped, pulling his arm closer into himself and away from the insidious warmth that had been worming its way inside of him. Olrox did give him a rather tolerant glare, but he just let his hand rest where it had been abandoned.

“Selfish reasons for the most part,” he sounded a bit pressed, but he had the charm to smooth it over. “I do find it worth noting that you did convince someone like me to return to a battle I had thought hopelessly lost, to fight when I was certain I would die, and had you not been alive to do that, the outcome could have been less favorable for all of us. It stands to reason that you are still alive because whatever force that rules this world believes it is a better place with you in it. It wants you to survive, and for me to protect you. I don’t argue with such forces and nor should you.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Mizrak huffed at him, but in a way he did. Only God could decide who lived and who died- and Mizrak always did survive. He also knew Olrox had come back only for him, and that he did care. Mizrak could still remember deliriously insisting to the vampire, as he was bleeding out, that he had to go back and make sure it was finished- and Olrox had listened to him.
He’d even returned in time to-

“Just know that as long as you wish to remain comfortably on this earth I will support your doing so, and if you choose to stay close to me, all the better,” Olrox summarized. Mizrak wanted to hold his hand again, and he did eye it with some reservations. The bed covers were so pale, and Olrox’s skin was so captivatingly dark

“I want to keep my faith,” he started

“I assumed you would, I did find you a bible,” Olrox quickly replied the moment he hesitated. “It’s not a problem. I don’t care for the religion myself, personal reasons, but there is no stopping it. It’s rather prominent in the New World as well, but it’s something I avoid rather than actively seek out or meddle with. Optimistically, it would serve me to have an ally that pursued interests opposite to my own, and as long as you don’t plan to lead a crusade against me, you’re free to believe what you want. My only concern is that such beliefs will be damaging to you considering your preferences and what you are. I don’t particularly enjoy knowing you think of yourself as some corrupted, soulless creature deserving of damnation.”

Mizrak hesitated to reply because he did, in most ways, still feel that way about himself. He was certainly corrupted but he always had been. It was that feeling that drove him to prayer to begin with. Mizrak had never thought God was supporting him, just that he was watching. All souls were sinful, that was no secret to him, it was because they were such that God had given those who carried them free will and the opportunity to repent by choosing to do good. Mizrak had seen enough evidence to convince him that even a vampire such as Drolta could carry a soul- he did believe he still had one, and he wanted to think it could still be saved.

“I- know humans aren’t the only ones with souls,” was how he chose to reply. He was still eyeing Olrox’s hand as it rested between them, wondering how much longer he could resist returning to it. “Mine is certainly corrupted, but faith and prayer have always relieved the pain that comes with knowing such things.” He glanced upward and Olrox smiled softly when their eyes met.

“I encourage you to do anything that brings relief into your life,” he answered. Mizrak hadn’t missed the way his eyes deepened as he spoke, Olrox could say so much with just a look. His eyes were also dangerously reflective, and within them Mizrak could see himself and how similar they really were. They were both sinners, they were both killers, but that wasn’t all they were.

“Can we really survive consuming only the blood of animals?” He finally asked once the brooding was starting to make him sleepy. Olrox appeared to roll his eyes, and Mizrak felt his weariness burned away by the spark of wrath that came from beholding such egocentricity.

Olrox had explained his self justified system of choosing who deserved to live or die. It did make sense but Mizrak was having difficulty accepting that anyone other than God had a right to determine such
fate. The notion that somehow Olrox thought he had the omnipotent wisdom to decide which humans were ‘worthy’ and which weren’t- was the most infuriating thing about him. Still, Mizrak managed to hold in his fury and wait for the reply.

“‘Surviving’ would be the correct definition of such a life.” Olrox answered with far more patience than Mzrak had expected. His tone was lilted with annoyance, almost offense, and it was tempting to latch onto that and attack. “As I explained, the blood of beasts would sustain you, but you would be weak and need more protection. Large animals would function as better prey- but I fear you would lack the strength to effectively hunt such creatures using this method.”

“Then help me,” Mizrak growled at him, glaring with so much wrath that he only realized the deeper meaning of what he’d said when Olrox’s expression softened.

“I am helping you,” he replied gently. “Agriculturally, when humans raise animals, they know which ones are for food and which are not and they perceive them differently. Being a creature that sustains itself on humans, I look at it from a similar perspective.”

“What gives you the right to play God?” Mizrak barked at him. He couldn’t stand discussing this, killing other humans was inherently wrong, no one deserved to be hunted. However, even as his thought screamed this logic inside his head, his heart still whispered the bitter truth that- even within his own religion, Priests deemed plenty of humans unworthy and cast them aside for death. Olrox sighed, his brows furrowed and he closed his eyes for a moment in thought before he spoke again.

“Is the life of a mother animal so different from a human one? In most cases, the human has done more evil in this world, and yet no one would accuse the parent of committing evil for slaying a beast to protect or feed her child. However, if that situation was reversed, and the animal fed on a human child, it would be hunted for all time. Does it deserve to die or suffer for taking advantage of the environment it has been born into? If so, then why not the humans who breed animals simply for slaughter? I’m not playing God, only following the laws of nature since I am old enough to know what happens when they are ignored.” As he finished he gave Mizrak a pointed look that served as a reminder to what he had done earlier.

The guilt shook him so much that Mizrak fell into silence and his eyes shifted downwards to his own body. There was logic in what Olrox was trying to explain to him. Human’s did kill animals without remorse- he probably killed a chicken or a deer every few days back in the monastery. There were prayers said- to honor the beast God had blessed them with for sustenance, but there was never a lingering sense of self loathing after the kill. Would praying for the souls of those he took as a vampire make feeding from them forgivable? Was it really just nature?

“I don’t want to be a monster,” Mizrak nearly sobbed as the weight of his thoughts forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. He could almost feel the tears- he had wept plenty of times in this man’s presence,
but they hadn’t fallen yet in this new form. Mizrak couldn’t let them, it was like admitting he was still human and that was an atrocious lie.

His eyes snapped open when long nails raked over his bearded cheek, and he looked into green eyes that should have never been allowed to hold such compassion. Mizrak had always thought it was a trick. Camouflage, the way a snake would hide in the desert, but he knew better now. Goddamn it he knew so much better.

“Am I still a monster to you Mizrak?” The question assaulted his reason and joined the rebellion in his heart and he really wanted to cry. “I did eat a few humans tonight, that is where I went and why I am a bit tired.” He withdrew his touch as he spoke and Mizrak didn’t know if he was grateful for it or not. His confession was appalling but- “Someone’s been draining all my blood, and I did find some nobles roughly harassing a rather haggard old man. Tormenting the less fortunate is viewed as sinful within your faith- is it not?”

“So is murder,” Mizrak replied though his fury had considerably waned.

“Murder would imply they died for nothing. I think of it like- putting their energy to better use.”

“When you murdered the Belmont woman, was that how you thought of it?” Olrox’s eyes darkened.

“No. With her it was more so an act to erase her entirely, in retribution for a life she had erased entirely.” his words felt etched in stone, and Mizrak knew it was that same resolve that likely kept the man sane at all.

They gazed into each other silently for some time after he’d spoken. Mizrak could feel the muscles in his face twitching between the motions of screaming viciously that: yes they were both monsters and how dare Olrox suggest otherwise, and wailing in misery. Even so, Mizrak vehemently held Olrox’s patiently displeased gaze as he ground his teeth to endure the tempest within him. Finally, the vampire caved and emerald eyes fell shut in defeat.

“If you insist on this path, I will help you. I want you to be content, and stay close. All I ask is that you pay attention to your body- and keep an open mind about what I said. In the meantime, I’ll do some research and try to find a more suitable way for you to feed that could avoid the killing.”

“Is that even possible?” Mizrak questioned, feeling some of the storm quiet within him. Olrox tilted his head.

“It’s unreliable. But I have been reading on the subject, and there is record of blood transfusions, and of humans that willingly feed vampires. Such participants are just difficult to locate, and then more so to trust. Also, the control it takes not to kill while feeding is, unfortunately, something one learns by trial and error- I wouldn’t expect that much of yourself for the first half century at least. It’s also very dangerous, since there are now multiple living people that know what you can do to them.” Olrox informed him and Mizrak remembered the book he had found the vampire asleep with.

Was that what he had been doing? Trying to find a better way- just for Mizrak’s sake? It was too revealing of an action for Mizrak not to feel somewhat moved by the implication. As always, it was devastating to see the obvious ‘goodness’ that radiated off of this dark creature. Olrox had told him he could believe whatever he wanted, that he could even leave the vampire’s side entirely, and even if Olrox clearly didn’t approve of his choices he would still help him. They weren't only pretty words. Olrox had observed what had happened tonight, knew the weight of it, and he was already well on his way to solving it in Mizrak’s favor. Olrox really did care about him, it was infallible.

“That’s a medical practice,” Mizrak stated, trying to find something neutral to focus on and balance, if only for a moment. He pressed down the programmed thought that such a thing was unholy science, and that willing or not it would still be human blood. This was an attempt at compromise, which he doubted Olrox offered very often, the man did have his own agenda. Regardless, Mizrak could admit that Olrox was a reliable and thorough man, if he wanted something to come to pass- he could likely make it happen.

“Yes, science has become quite advanced in the past hundred years. I believe the first successful attempt was between dogs in 1665, but removing a large amount of blood for the sake of sustaining another life, without incurring death, is possible. It’s also likely the technology will continue to improve as time passes. Is that something you would like me to look into for you?” It was a life altering question to answer, but Mizrak did find it easier to digest than the thought of beastly murder.

He found himself consciously mulling it over, feeling his body relax somewhat as he did. The bed was soft, it smelled familiar, and the one sharing it with him only projected security. Mizrak didn’t want to be on his own, he felt far too lost to make his own way, and he had woefully always longed for someone powerful and sane to follow. His first day in the church had felt similar- he’d had no idea what was right and he had been pleading for guidance from anyone who looked like they knew -anything- about this mad world God had built for them.

Allowing himself to have blind faith in a superior power was what came naturally to Mizrak. It would be sickeningly comfortable to do so all over again- but Mizrak had learned from his past folly. He wouldn’t let Olrox guide him around on a leash- but he wouldn’t run either. The truth was that he was now a creature that he barely understood, and though there was a man here who could spoon feed him a life at his mere request- Mizrak didn’t want to merely follow him.

“Let’s- look into it together.” Mizrak softly accented as his eyes turned back to the foot of the bed. The idea still didn’t sit well with him, even with consent he would potentially be taking blood from humans. But if Olrox was right- if he would just end up an immortal with a sickly composure, that constantly needed protection or that went feral and killed out of desperation- he didn’t want that either.
“I’d rather enjoy that,” Olrox replied and Mizrak had to meet his eyes

“It doesn’t mean I’m alright with this-

“Of course not,” Olrox interjected calmly. “Merely a curiosity worth investigating. I suppose in the meantime I can teach you how to hunt some of the more dangerous wildlife, you do have a notable appetite.” His emerald eyes glittered as his lips ticked upwards in a half smirk.

“I know how to hunt!” Mizrak insisted as he felt his face flush from the force of that satisfied look.

“I wasn’t implying you didn’t know how, just that I’d like to help you. Perhaps I’ll be the one to learn something.” Mizrak got the impression he was flirting again and he truly was insufferably handsome, he had to scoff. “Can I take this to mean, you’d like to stay by my side, for the time being?” Olrox questioned him and the caution that had possessed his voice was palpable. It was too much to tell him the truth.

“You’re the only one left and there’s nowhere else I can go now that I’m like this.” he grumbled even as he felt his own hands tingle with the urge to reach out and pull him closer. Mizrak clutched them tightly to his chest, fighting the way his body was starting to tremble from what he had already agreed to the instant he’d let this vampire into his bed.

“In that case, I’ll stay with you until that changes.” Olrox answered him without a trace of resentment, or offence and it was much too soothing. “You should rest, if you are planning on joining me, the next few days could be strenuous. Alucard will be here after sunset, to assist our departure- and I’m certain you would rather be present for the conversation.”

Mizrak had to agree, he wanted all the information he could get at this point. This new life before him wasn’t ideal, but it was a life and it did seem better than an eternity in Hell. Olrox would help him overcome the bigger challenges he always had- trusting him just still felt like holding firmly to hot iron and insisting it didn’t burn. He chose not to respond, but he did allow his body to settle for enough time for Olrox to determine he was asleep, and fall into his own state of oblivion.

Cracking open an eye, Mizrak looked the vampire over. It had only been a few minutes, but he did seem to have drifted off, and now that he was still it was easier to creep closer to him. He didn’t go too far, just near enough to comfortably take hold of Olrox’s hand, which was still resting unassumingly between them. The alleviation touching him brought to Mizrak was nothing short of luxury and instinctively his grip tightened so much that it would have been difficult to pull away. He quickly relaxed, too aware of himself, and then sighed as a warmth spread through him.

“Olrox?” he tried, only to feel relief when he heard nothing. He sighed at himself- at this brief illusion of peace that could be found in such an impossible place, and ran his thumb over the hand he held. “You’re not a monster.”

“Neither are you,” was the whispered reassurance inside his own mind. He didn’t know if it was real or not, but he only inched closer to what he knew was shelter. Quietly, he wept until sleep gave his grief a rest.