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The Night	By : mewsomniac Category: Kingdom Hearts > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1695 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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The Night
Chapter IV: Horatio
August 23, 1860

            "Wait!" He shouted; his pace labored by the sand sinking beneath his footfalls. "Do not leave me behind!"

            "Perhaps you should try to catch up before asking me to wait!" The other boy shouted back, "Learn to run better, will you, Sora?"

            Sora laughed, ignoring the twinge of pain in his side. He watched his brother hastily tear his shoes off before running upon the wet sand of the shoreline. The sound of the waves became more prevalent as he got closer, and the humid ocean wind whisked at his face. Just before he caught up to his brother, he stripped himself of footwear as well. His feet smacked across the sodden earth and an icy chill from the cold ground rippled through his small body.

            "Perhaps," He gasped with labored breath, "We should trade places so I may have the same experience you do!"

            His brother could not help but smile, "Now that you're the age of 10, surely mother and father will let you join me on my journeys to the beach. Then you'll have plenty of experience for yourself. That is, if you stop hiding away your missal."

            "I hate those boring old things. I'd much rather read my history books."

            "Oh? The chaplain always speaks of God casting us into hell should be ignore the words of our missals."

            Sora responded with a loud scoff, "I am not afraid of God. Or hell."

            His brother laughed, shaking his head at the smaller boy. "Nor am I. God or no, we should be grateful that our name is noble enough to afford an education and books that aren't religious—"

            "Look!" Sora interjected, suddenly running closer to the water, "A ship! It must be a trading vessel."

            Floating along in the distance, a ship bobbed and weaved over the sea—its masts tall and its sails stark white against the light of the summer sun. Sora observed it with wonder, uncaring of the freezing water now lapping at his ankles. The ship seemed like a beacon in the dark waters of the ocean; a heavenly object shining to him, even as it encroached a wall of fog laying upon the horizon. He watched in silent awe as the vessel made it's way across the Black Sea.

            "You gaze at that ship with such earnest I fear you might jump into the water and start swimming to catch it."

            Joyously, Sora turned to his brother, "Had I the chance, I'd board a ship to-night! All I have ever wanted was to be a historian, sailing across the world, witnessing history." Sora sat down on the sand. "I could cross the sea, kiss the hands of maidens, bury myself in the libraries of the world. Father tells me history is made every day… so I will record everything that happens, and even see it with my own eyes." The boy let himself fall back, his shoulders landing against the wet ground. "I want to leave this place and see the world."

            Sora reached his hand out to the blue sky, fingers obscuring the sun…

June 10, 2025

            …and when he brings it back down, he sees the moon hanging in the night sky.

            Lazily, Sora examines his hand; slowly wiggling his tan fingers in the moonbeams, as if to re-energize his lost spirit. Lately the atmosphere feels thicker. There's a sense of foreboding settling off in the distance like thick smog.

            He could be getting fucked up at a club somewhere, wandering the streets, loitering on the tram systems, maybe picking up some money from an odd job somewhere… but the beach seems ideal. It always does.

            The soft churning of the ocean waves drifts through his head like a lullaby. The sand of Dusk City's beach is cool on his back, and so is the misty breeze on his face. He isn't sure what it is about this place, but Sora always finds himself coming here when there's nowhere else to go. Is it the smell of salt in the air? The soft sand sticking to his skin? Maybe it's his islander blood calling him there? Perhaps… it could be because it reminds him of the time before his "unlife", so to speak. Most of his memory of then is somewhat fuzzy and full of holes, but he does remember most of his time spent at the beach.

            Almost 200 years of life and, no matter where he goes or what part of the world he steps foot in, he always ends up like driftwood on the shore. It's almost as if some kind of ghost is haunting him, or there's an invisible string pulling him; before he knows it, Sora's walking upon the sand and looking upon the waves.

            He lays the back of his hand against his forehead and peers into the abyss suspended above. In the still blackness, faint hints of stars glitter weakly against the city's light pollution. There was a time where he would sit upon the damp wood of a ship and chart the stars—"keys to the world" is what his crewmates called them. Far back then, they shone like lighthouses to those on a ship drifting in the middle of the sea. But that was a very long time ago. Now, there's a sort of feeling of being lost without them guiding the way.

            Shutting his eyes, Sora once more tires to picture running across the beach as a child. Everything is practically crystal clear… all but one thing.

            The face of his brother.

            It's smudged and unrecognizable, like a pastel smear across a photograph. With all the memories that are important to him still intact, it seems so bizarre that one of the few people he ever truly cared about is missing; it's almost as if somebody purposefully plucked him out from Sora's brain. Stranger yet, it took almost 150 years for Sora to even remember having a brother. As more time passes, the more his memory returns—slowly filling up his head like sand in an hourglass. While these memories were precious, their loss wasn't worth mulling over, really. All those people in his distant thoughts are dead, as harsh as it sounds.

            Naturally, the true curse of immortality is watching those you care for wither away and die.

            This is the price I pay for becoming a keeper of history, Sora thinks, his dedicated apathy allowing no emotion to stir in his chest. It's easier to discover new worlds than witness people face their mortality constantly.

            Regardless of their great task, he and the other vampires had gotten lazy. With the integration of supernatural creatures into society being surprisingly smooth, all so-called "nightwalkers" found it less and less hard to stay secretive and alive. As more people wanted to become vampires (for whatever awful reason) the need for diligent recorders diminished as the population rose. On top of all that, despite widespread acceptance, few cities allowed creatures of the night in and even fewer cities had a major populous made up of supernaturals—Dusk City being the biggest of them all. At this point, vampires are known more for their awesome parties and great sex than for their work in history.

            Despite how awesome it is to live his unending days in a blur, Sora can't help but feel he's wasting himself, and whatever purpose he has, away. Somewhere deep down, he can't help but feel his dedication has been squandered by some bizarre need for a mid-unlife crisis. A large part of him wants to go back to how it once was, even though the rest of him has accepted that he simply cannot. Especially not with recent developments in the covenant…

            "If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart," Sora sighs, "Absent thee from felicity a while, and in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain to tell my story."

            "My first guess is right again." A voice cuts through the sound of rolling waves, "You're sitting on the beach muttering Shakespeare, as usual."

            Knowing the voice all too well, Sora doesn't bother opening his eyes. "Well! Now that you're here, let's play Wheel of Fortune." He lets a smile creep to his face. "You've got 50 thou in the pot. So far, the board says: 'I'm not going'. There's one word left in the phrase. Would you like to solve the puzzle or would you like to buy a vowel?"

            There's a laugh, "At least you're cutting to the chase," Sora hears the sifting of the sand as footsteps encroach him. "Also, you say you're not going back as if you have a choice."

            "Who says I don't? 'His Majesty'? Give me a break." He laughs a bit himself, "What a frumpy title, anyway. Royalty in one life and for some reason it carries into the next…"

            "You know that's not why he is who he is. We wouldn't be having this conversation right now if that was the case."

            Sitting up, Sora blinks his eyes open to stare at the tall figure next to him: the only thing clear in the blackness of the night is silver hair catching the light of the moon.

            "Riku, you're my best friend in this whole wide world… but you're wasting your time. You've been sniffing me out for weeks, but look—" He gestures to himself in amusement, "—I'm still here! Still AWOL. What makes you think tonight will be any different?"

            Riku watches as Sora stands and brushes the sand off his body, briefly glancing over said vampire's attire. Hooded leather jacket, red ribbed tank, tattered jeans, beat-up sneakers, infamous crown necklace… typical Sora. Shaking his head, Riku sighs. What a mess.

            "Maybe tonight won't be different." He mutters as Sora picks his knapsack up from the sand and slings it over his shoulders. "But tomorrow night is a full moon." Sora instantly locks eyes with Riku, feeling an expression of realization flash across his own face. The silver-haired man continues, "Then you won't be able to run or hide from me, and I can't guarantee your safety either."

            Sora can't help but let a chuckle out, "Doesn't that piss you off, Riku? 'His Grace' is turning you into his almost-literal foxhound."

            Suddenly Riku takes an aggressive step forward, but Sora doesn't budge; smirking arrogantly at the lycanthrope. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe this isn't about what he wants?! That maybe I just want you to come back and stop all this bullshit because I'm your friend and I care about you?" There is a long pause of unyielding eye contact, and Sora's facetious smile never fades. Under his breath Riku growls, "Kairi cares too, you know."

            That comment must have flicked a switch somewhere, because Sora's grin drops in an instant before the vampire abruptly tears his eyes away and cries out in frustration. "It isn't my fucking fault, okay?! THIS was never my choice! Never did I ask to be a MONSTER! Never once did I ask to be a 'Lamb of Dracul', or whatever the King calls it! Before fifty years ago, I hadn't even the knowledge the fucker was my Sire until my memories returned and they tested my blood to be sure." Noticing the slip in his dialect, Sora runs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to get a hold of himself. "My job was to record history. Out of this whole mess, that was the only thing I wanted. And now they suddenly want me running the whole shebang?"

            "You know it's not that simple, Sora. The King needs—"

            "What? A hero, right?" Sora laughs mockingly, "I'm no hero. I memorialize the heroes. Hamlet dies, but Horatio lives on to tell his story; just like the rest of my bloodsucking brothers and sisters and I." Sora gnashes his fangs at Riku, "So if you or anybody else still wants me to come back, you can fucking drag me."

            There is silence. Both men are still as statues; gazes transfixed on one another. The air around them is heavy with anticipation and sea mist, and Sora knows who will make the first move.

            In a mere blink, he watches Riku jolt forward with his hand out, aiming straight for Sora's throat—

            But it's not fast enough.

            Before Riku's brain can even register the pain, there are four pure silver prongs of searing heat ripping into his gut and he suddenly feels his body go rigid. Sora watches his friend drop to the sand from the 55,000 volts rocking the werewolf's system. Unsympathetic, he tosses the taser next to the convulsing man and takes off toward the city without a second thought.
June 11, 2025

            When Sora opens his eyes, the room is comfortably dark. Hanging in the air are the smells of bleach and lingering cigarette burns, with maybe a touch of cheap coffee. Fancy-looking curtains are drawn over the windows, and barely any daylight seeps out through the heavy cloth. He turns on his side under the stale hotel sheets, glancing at the hovering holographic analog clock on the bedside table: 4:37 pm. Not quite sunset, but it's a safe enough time to leave.

            Besides, the longer I stay the better chance Riku has to sniff me out.

            The night before, he was able to duck into some clubs and hop on a few trams to throw off the werewolf. So far, it's been the best scent-breaker since so many bodies (typically sweaty) in one place at one time are enough to overload any creature's scent trail. Riku has always hated such crowded places anyway, so it's always Sora's go-to option for both his freedom and as food for his outgoing personality.

            Sitting up in bed, Sora resolves to hop in the shower momentarily to help rid himself of his evening grogginess. Plus, there's plenty of stubborn excess sand still clinging to his skin somehow; not to mention the sweat of numerous other partiers. Crossing the crisp carpet of the still-dark hotel room, he drops his pants and boxers before entering the bathroom. Sora stands next to the tub and touches the hovering display to turn the hot water on; pondering briefly over the events of the night before. He's never tried tasing Riku before, and he genuinely hopes the charge stopped before the waves got too close.

            Once the spray is on he steps under it, uncaring of the extreme heat. While sudsing himself down with the lavender scented hotel soap left in the tub, he tries his best not to think about Riku, especially not about Kairi, and absolutely not about the King. As the days pass, it has become harder and harder to accept his newfound "responsibility" to the coven… the longer he runs, the more futile it feels. It's like a ball and chain that just gets shorter and shorter as time goes by; regardless, his feelings are unwavering on the subject.

            If I can't even figure my own life out, and if I could barely even be a sire to someone I care about, He rinses the bubbles from his skin, Then why should I have to wear a crown or be a warrior?

            There's a moment of deliberation, of careful wondering. It's loud in Sora's head, as all his thoughts attack him at once like a barrage of guilt and the unknown. Questions, so many questions, like a murder of crows pecking at his skull begging for answers. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the stress rise quickly in his chest. However, as usual, Sora's positivity seems to break through the clusterfuck in his head and his care for the issue melts away with the thought: Ah, fuck it. It's a new day! I'll deal with all that later.

            Suddenly he feels his fingers begin to tremble, and shakes slowly creep up his body. He curses, remembering that he hasn't eaten in over 24 hours and now he's suffering for it. With a groan, Sora shuts off the shower and quickly darts out of the bathroom whilst drying off with a towel. He reaches for his knapsack with shuddering hands, and dumps its contents out onto the bed. Some weapons, mostly dirty clothes, blood-lancing devices, and…

            "Aha!" Sora feels triumphant as a blood packet and a few vials topple out of the bag, at least until—"…oh fuck."—he sees that they're all empty. He carefully examines the vials, noting that one has at least a tablespoon left and should be enough until he locates the nearest blood bank. He unscrews the small flask and quickly tips it back like a shot; allowing the bitter, coppery goodness to fully coat his tongue before thickly swallowing. As the intoxicating fluid coats his throat, Sora realizes just how tasty this stuff is once he's gone without it for a long time. The tip of his tongue searches eagerly for any excess sticking to his lips while he scoops back up the mess into his knapsack.

            He leaves out his last clean shirt, a black v-neck, and pair of clean boxers before making a note to stop by a laundromat after the blood bank. With his body slowing its trembling, Sora shoves in his old shirt and boxers and proceeds to clumsily dress.

            After leaving his hotel room and traveling to the lobby via elevator, Sora checks out with the nice young woman at the counter. As another careful step in covering his tracks, Sora glamors her into forgetting his face with a sly smile—but not before having her unbutton her top a little, which is one of his many favorite glamor tricks.

            Stepping out into the shady city, Sora feels pretty great. It is a beautiful day despite the fog hanging over the cityscape and the sting of lingering sunlight on his skin, there's a lot to do, and life is looking pretty wonderful.

            That is, before he notices a familiar face right across the street. He stares into seafoam eyes which bore into his soul like two hot stakes in his heart. Sora can't help but grimace as Riku silently scowls at him; watching the tall man pull last night's taser from a jacket pocket and crush it slowly in his grasp before dropping the crumpled mess onto the pavement. Stunned, Sora merely shrugs and awkwardly smiles in a sort of jovial, please-don't-brutally-murder-me manner.

            Without warning, an oncoming tram car passes in front of Sora.

            When it's gone, so is Riku.

            Well, fuck.

            Thinking swiftly, Sora dashes to catch the tram at its next stop—it's his only hope. With the streets mostly empty, there are few obstacles which is a good and bad thing: good because there's little in Sora's way, bad because there is also little in Riku's way. Not daring to look anywhere but forward, Sora feels the twinge of pain in his side and—

Go
Sand
Go
Sea
Go
History
Gogogogogogogogogogogogogogo GO GO GO GO GO GO
"Isn't this what you wanted, Sora?"
Gold?
What?

            Even though there's a sudden crazy blur of thoughts in his head, he doesn't stop. He shakes the bizarre… nostalgia? Reminiscence? Some kind of contact high? Well, whatever it is, he shakes it from his brain and sprints despite the protest of his body. A short distance away he sees the tram slow to a stop, knowing there are only a few seconds to spare. He feels Riku's presence upon him, closing in like a literal wolf on it's prey, so he reaches out…

            And just barely swings himself into the open doors of the tram, the door sliding shut behind him. Sora watches through the glass of the door as Riku's figure, which was merely a yard or two away from him, disappear as the tram glides along. He pants in exhaustion, his good mood returning without skipping a beat, before turning to look at the empty—

            Oh.

            Not empty tram car behind him.

            In the middle of the car there's a blond human sitting there, staring at the window all bored-like. Sora feels a strange, but not unfamiliar, flutter in his chest when he notices how cute this stranger is. Feeling confident, he smoothly strides up to the man; turning on the charm like a light switch in his head.

            "This seat taken?" He gently smiles, but his only reply is a shrug. Sora plops down next to the blond with a pleased sigh, placing his knapsack between his legs. He doesn't let the stranger's movement toward the window deter him. Here comes the quirky small talk. Still exhausted, he asks sarcastically, "It's pretty busy today, huh? This car is packed."

            The blond smiles politely, "I know, I can barely breathe in here."

            Sora lets out a genuine laugh, happy to receive both a smile and legitimate interaction. He notices the human is looking him over in a curious manner, so he himself takes a brief second to give the blond a closer inspection. Gorgeous azure eyes, a white cotton shirt, grey hoodie, a cool silver necklace in the shape of an X…

            "That's an awesome necklace, by the way." Sora comments, smiling once more.

            "Oh," The young man touches the jewelry, and Sora notes how dainty and soft his hands look. "Thank you. Yours is cool too." He points to Sora's own necklace. "Is that silver?"

            "Platinum, actually. It's a family heirloom." At least, from what he remembers. It was one of the clearer memories of his past: his mother proudly handing him the heirloom as a present for his 21st birthday.

            He sees the blond relax slightly, "Mine too actually. It was made back in the 1880s."

            Sora feels himself beaming at the other man, "Hey! Same here! Check it out," He flips the crown over, "1887." This date was something Sora was unsure of. He was 21 in 1871, and he technically "died" in 1873. What happened in 1887? He wasn't sure. He just knows it appeared on his most prized possession around the same time most of his memory had been lost.

            "That's such a crazy coincidence!" The blond smiles, and Sora feels that flutter in his chest again. "You know what they say: it's a small world after all."

            Laughing, Sora can't help but lean in close and eagerly say, "I have to ask, what's your name?"

            Just then the tram stops once more, and the now-nervous human seems relieved. Looking away, he mutters, "Um… this is my stop."

            Sora doesn't let the sudden (and very odd) panic show on his face. "Oh!" He chuckles, sliding out of the seat and grabbing his knapsack. He pulls an excuse out of thin air, determined to at least get a name out of the attractive stranger. "It really is a small world." He bullshits, "It's my stop too."

            The blond gestures toward the door, looking as if he's feigning politeness. "After you."

            It's not gonna be that easy.

            Calling the bluff, Sora enthusiastically gestures himself. "No I insist. After you."

            Sora watches the blond sling a backpack over his shoulders before hurrying off the tram and onto the sidewalk, noticing that the stranger is merely an inch shorter than him. With how nervous the guy seems, Sora decides he's better off saving some time by doing what he does best. He steps off the tram, and the guy turns around to face him. He focuses on those lovely azure eyes, ready to grab hold with his gaze.

            "Well it was nice chatting with you—"

            "Stop." He breathes, watching the stranger go still. The blond looks quite giddy, like a child who just received a lollipop, which certainly isn't a common side-effect of glamor but it's nothing to write home about. "Now," The guy perks up at the sound of Sora's voice, "Tell me your name."

            "Roxas," The blond affectionately sighs, smiling as if in a drunken daze. "I'm Roxas."

            Sora can't help the surprised smirk that tugs at his lips, finding Roxas' reaction both incredibly strange and quite honestly arousing. Still, he remains polite: getting strangers to unbutton their blouses or give their name is enough entertainment, even though Sora knows he's capable of much more.

            "Well Roxas, it's very nice to meet you." He reaches out his hand to shake, making Roxas mirror the action.

            It is in this moment when the most bizarre thing happens.

            Sora's hand is slapped away

            This human—Roxas—has broken free of Sora's glamor. In over 200 years of Sora's unlife and hundreds upon thousands of glamor subjects both human and supernatural, this has NEVER happened.

            What… Sora catches Roxas' gaze again, totally flabbergasted, …the fuck?

            "How…" Is the only thing he manages to splutter out, "How did you do that?"

            He's so shocked that he doesn't even budge when Roxas whips around and books it down the sidewalk.

            Realizing his own stupidity, he shouts. "Hey wait! WAIT!"

            Sora is about to go after Roxas when he realizes just which street he's on: the one with the two Organization members right across the street from one another. The last people he wants to fuck with are the Organization, and if he's spotted—rather, smelled—chasing a human, Lamb of Dracul or no, he could be done for.

            Unsure of his next move, Sora calls out to the fleeing mortal, "I didn't get to tell you! My name is Sora!"

            Knowing the blond was in earshot, he watches as his new acquaintance skitters away, still visibly rattled.

            A strange sense of reality settles on Sora then as he watches the rapidly fading back of the mortal. This is the first person Sora has known of who can resist glamoring since he studied the Salem Witch Trials. A wave of excitement flows through his veins; it's a kind of excitement he hasn't felt since the glory days of his travels. He has to learn more about this curious human… he has to learn more about Roxas.

            This is revolutionary.

            This is history.
           About half a block away from the Organization members' shops, Sora has taken refuge at a small bar with black bricks and dim lights. He'd glamored the bartender to allow him to stay as long as necessary, and to warn Sora if either Riku or Roxas are walking down the street. The bartender also has a clear look at the bookstore he knows one of the black-cloaks owns, so Sora is having him keep an eye on who goes in and out of there too.

            Once the evening rush was over, the bar was nearly empty save for the occasional stragglers here and there. As he waits for any sign of Roxas, Sora is lounging in a half-circle booth tucked into a secluded corner of the bar; as far away from the window as possible, just in case. On a positive note, Riku would probably never follow him down this particular street even if he did catch his scent since the werewolf knows the locations of the Organization even better than Sora does. While unsure where Roxas vanished to, Sora can surmise that if the human has a gift like that, he's on his way to join the Organization (if he hasn't already done so). Either way, the closest tram is the one they both stepped off of so he'll be heading in that direction regardless.

            Slumping in his seat, Sora lets out a long sigh and ponders over the situation at hand. What exactly does he know about the black cloaks—er… the Organization? Other than they act as the police for the creatures of the night… not a whole lot. Magical powers of questionable origin, freaky DNA, and snazzy jackets are the only facts he has. Everybody knows that they were vigilantes until appointed by the city, and some of them are even descendants of some really powerful spellcasters. Having only this knowledge in hand, Sora is disappointed in himself.

            "Some keeper of history I am…" He mutters.

            To be fair, the Organization was only formed a few years after the supernatural became a regular part of society and has done it's best to stay under serious wraps since. They're almost like a leap-of-faith en carnate: just trust that they'll keep you safe from the things that go bump in the—

            "Pink hair," The bartender suddenly blurts out, "Tall, no cloak. He's leaving the bookshop, crossing the street… and entering the flower shop."

            Sora nods in understanding, "Must be one of the members." Before Sora can contemplate this further, the bartender speaks again.

            "Shorter and younger man leaving the bookshop, no cloak… blonde hair."

            Sora can't fight the instinct to stand suddenly. He scrambles for loose munny in his pockets and slams the makeshift tip out on the table. On his way to scurry out the door he splutters out, "Thanksforyourhelpmuchappreciatedsorryforanytroubleyou'refreefrommyserviceforgetyoueversawmeandhavealovelynight bye!"

            As he leaves the bar, he spots Roxas heading back toward the tram and, after channeling his inner sneaky vampire, starts to tail the human at a comfortable distance.
            Some time passes and the rainclouds still hang threateningly in the sky, although no droplets have fallen to the ground. Standing at the tram stop he'd gotten off of a couple hours ago is Roxas, looking lost in thought as he waits for his ride. From the cover of an alleyway corner, Sora can't help but take a moment to watch. Now that he's encountering the human again, he isn't quite sure how to approach him. He clearly can't just glamor the mortal into staying, and at the first sight of the vampire Roxas would probably take off. He has to come up smoothly, in one fluid motion, and make sure he can't run.

            Fuck it, He shrugs, I'm overthinking this. Let's just roll with it.

            With one long deep breath, Sora swiftly strides up to Roxas, grips him around the bicep and forces him to turn around. Sora isn't prepared to be captivated by azure eyes, and his brain goes quiet. He feels a wayward smile appear on his face, and all he can really muster is a "Boo."

            "You…" The mortal hisses, and Sora sees a fist rocketing toward him.

            "Woah there!" Sora barely dodges it, "Just calm down!"

            "Calm down?! Fuck you!" Another failed punch.

            This is not the reaction Sora was expecting… though he’s also not sure what he was honestly expecting eiter.

            Unsure of how to deal with Roxas' rage, he attempts to reason with him. "I'm just here to talk," He assures, "I'm not gonna hurt you!"

            "What the fuck did you do to me?!" Roxas bites out.

            …huh? Sora suddenly finds himself incredibly confused.

            "You made me see fluffy clouds and happy bunnies or some shit!"

            …fucking huh? "Fluffy what?" Sora is lost as all holy hell. "Roxas, what are you talking about?"

            There's a brief pause, and Sora watches the interesting process of balking realization turn into utter rage on Roxas' face. The blond blindly swings toward him in vain as Sora continues to dodge the hits like they're butterflies catching a gentle glide off the evening breeze.

            "I can do this all night, you know." Sora sighs and in one fluid motion catches Roxas' fists as they propel toward him. He figures it's time to cut to the chase, as reasoning is getting him nowhere. "Listen, I just want to know how you resisted my glamor. That's all!"

            Now Roxas looks confused, head tilted slightly and lips pursed in a questioning matter. "Your… what?"

            Sora feels the frown on his face, more puzzled now than ever before. This guy is living in Dusk City and he doesn't know glamor? This is… an even stranger predicament than he realized. Sora attempts to clarify, "It's the thing I used to make you tell me your name. Do you not know what glamoring is?"

            Roxas sheepishly turns his gaze away, pouting and muttering a "No, I don't actually…" Just then, the blonde lights up as if he remembered something important and he looks back to the vampire. "That's what I was telling you about with the clouds and bunnies! When you did that it was like you slipped me ecstasy because everything turned pink and…"

            Woah. WOAH. FUCKING WOAH.

            "Wait, wait, wait…" Sora lets go of Roxas' hands, more baffled now than he has been in an incredibly long time. "You're telling me that not only could you resist the glamor, but you could also see and feel it?"

            "I…" Roxas pauses as if searching his brain for details, "I'm not sure what else to tell you, blue-eyes."

            "Blue-eyes?" Sora scoffs, both mildly amused at the nickname and slightly saddened his actual name did not stick with the human. "I told you my name, remember? I'm Sora. And you can at least tell me how you did it."

            After opening his mouth, Roxas's gaze drifts as he pauses in thought for a long while. Though the sight is somewhat silly, he's still fascinated to hear what his companion has to say and waits patiently for a response. Is it a spell? A magical ability of some kind? Does Roxas even know what he did? The guy doesn't know what glamoring is, so the likeliest result is that he just doesn't know how he resisted it. But does anyone know what it is any more? Now that he thinks about it, it is basically just mind control. In fact, he’s now realizing only he really knows it as “glamoring”. Sora feels like an idiot, but keeps a straight face. Fake it ‘till you make it, right? Still, this is a peculiar situation and it would be interesting to find out how Roxas resisted; perhaps an experiment would be in order? Roxas' eyes snap back to Sora's, and said vampire feels the eagerness swell in his chest.

            "Well," The human starts, "I guess the best way to put it is that I used my willpower. Nothing seemed right, and I knew I had to stop it somehow." He rubs the back of his neck. "At least, I'm pretty sure that's what I did. I really just don't know." Roxas sends Sora a bemused look, "Why does it matter to you anyway?"

            "Why does it matter"? Sora repeats in his head, incredibly frustrated, Fucking really? Then he remembers the situation at hand. "I almost forgot you don't know what glamor is…actually, I don’t even know how many people know what it is anymore, it’s such a rare trait." Sora can't help the laugh that sneaks through his throat.

            "Are you going to tell me what it is then?" The blond bites out, cutely crossing his arms and pouting in agitation.

            Sora can't help the thought, It's like negotiating with a cranky puppy, as he looks to the clouds and taps his cheek in consideration. "Well, it's a bit tricky to explain." He starts. He's never had to really explain this to someone, not since about 70 years ago. "It's like mind control, but usually it’s more of an influence, I guess. Depending on who you are, you can't have people do your bidding, but you can encourage their will or actions one way or another. Typically someone can feel the sensation of being glamored, but definitely not as extreme as your case. It's kinda like the feeling of trust or solace in a human's heart—you can suddenly confide in the one glamoring you, and everything they say makes sense."" He makes a gesture to Roxas, "Like getting someone's name. Some say the most powerful of vampires with the ability can completely bend the will of anything, not just humans." An honest and confident smile curls at his lips. "You're interesting to me because, through all my years of complete success in glamoring almost anything, not a single one has had the ability to resist like you."

            Sora watches Roxas' eyes go wide and jaw go slack. The human says nothing, only stares, and Sora is momentarily unsure of why the other man is so awestruck. Both men are quiet, the only audible sound is the gentle buzzing of the streetlamp overhead and the distant rumble of thunder over the ocean.

            Suddenly, it hits Sora.

            "You really are new here…" Sora can't disguise the mischief in his voice, "You wanna see 'em?"

            Uncaring of a response, Sora lets his fangs come down and grins widely. He can feel the fear and excitement through Roxas' gaze as the human gawks at him. Then, Sora briefly holds his hand over his mouth before retracting his fangs and removing his hand. He runs his tongue over his now-normal teeth in amusement, still enjoying the look on Roxas' face.

            "Neat trick, huh?" He refrains from adding something along the lines of 'I'd like to try it against your neck' so as not to be too forward and scare his new friend off too soon.

            There is a moment of silence, and the vampire isn't sure whether or not Roxas is going to hightail it right then and there. Feeling giddy, Sora genuinely smiles and says "You're pretty odd. I haven't done something like that in forever, I'm just so used to people keeping to themselves in this city." Unsure of the blond's current mental state, he asks, "Are you okay, Roxas?"

            "Uh…" He watches Roxas halfheartedly shrug.

            Satisfied, Sora thinks back to their conversation before and remembers his thoughts about experimentation. "I have an idea!" He blurts out, "Let's see how well you can break out of my glamor!"

            "W-what?" Roxas scowls and as if reading Sora's mind replies, "I'm not an experiment! If anything you should be telling me more about all this vampire stuff since you've been giving me so much grief!"

            "Hmmm," Sora figures a bargain on Roxas' terms may be in order. After all, this is historical and it is not to be ignored. It's been a long time since he's experienced something of this scale, so it's worth milking it. "How 'bout this, if you break out of it at least once I'll tell you anything you want. Deal?" He holds out his hand out to shake.

            Roxas hesitates, but Sora waits patiently for a response. He hopes dearly that Roxas will accept, and a fucked up part of him wants to push his own limits. His greatest talent as a vampire is his impeccable ability to glamor people, so if he really is a Lamb of Dracul, what is he capable of? Can Sora himself really bend the will of a human to his liking, especially one with such a powerful resistance?

            Maybe now is the time to test this.

            Sora is snapped from his thoughts when Roxas reaches out and shakes his hand with a cocky "Deal."

            Excited by the challenging smirk on the human’s face, Sora lets go and steps back a bit; allowing his own confidence to show. "Fair warning, I was going easy on you before. Glamoring is my specialty… so I'm gonna give you all I've got."

            Roxas takes a deep breath, bracing himself, before locking eyes with Sora again. "I'm ready." He says, and Sora doesn't hesitate to reach his conscious deep into those azure eyes. Down, down, down… he grips onto Roxas's free will like a malignant tumor, boring into the human's mind deeper than he's ever gone into anyone before. Sora waits until his soon-to-be mindslave looks high as a fucking kite before speaking.

            Let's start with something simple.

            "Now Roxas," Sora watches the eagerness in Roxas' face, "Do you remember my name?"

            "Sora." Roxas moans so perfectly, and Sora feels the heat pooling in his gut.

            I might have gone too deep… He jokes internally. Next request.

            "Tell me something about yourself, Roxas."

            This time the human stays quiet, and Sora somehow feels an unfamiliar struggle against the mental constraints. Though it’s a foreign sensation, it’s nothing too tricky to fix.

            "Please," He demands, gripping his influence on Roxas a little tighter, "Tell me."

            With only a brief hesitation and a quivering lip, Roxas mutters "I ran away from home."

            "Really?" Sora wonders aloud, "Huh, I didn't take you for the runaway type. You almost got it, Roxas. Well, third time's a charm, right?" Feeling wicked, and also with consideration from the earlier reactions, it may be time to try something a bit more… interesting. "How about we kick it up a few notches?" He smiles, and with one hand beckons the blond closer to him. "Kiss me."

            He feels Roxas fighting his glamor as the blond's body inches slowly toward him. Sora wrings Roxas' will with all his might, struggling more with simple mind control than he ever has in his entire eternal life. It's exhausting, but he won't stop until Roxas breaks free or he's kissing those delicate-looking lips. His sudden insatiable hunger plunges him deeper into Roxas' conscious, making him want to desperately ravage the human under his slipping control.

            It seems like a long while later, but Sora feels their noses touch and can't help the victorious smile as Roxas' lips close in—

            And a sudden slap to the face knocks him from his focus.

            Déjà vu.

            Taken aback, Sora feels his eyes go wide. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roxas leaning on his knees and wheezing loudly. The human looks to him, and they share the gaze for a while as Sora feels a raindrop or two land on his head.

            Smugly, Roxas grins and breathlessly mutters, "I win,"

            Laughing, Sora grins himself while remarking "I like you, you're spunky."

            In the distance, the Dusk City tower bells clamor—the sound spanning across the city like a bad omen across the mind of a saint. Sora unconsciously looks up and he finally notices the giant orb hanging in the pure blackness of the sky. It was carefully hidden behind the looming rainclouds that are just now shedding their weight.

            A full moon.

            Well, fuck. No wonder the tram is taking forever… it’s not coming back tonight.

            Then, there it is: Riku's howl.

            It is unmistakable, as Sora has known that same one for so long that he cannot possibly be wrong. He knows who it's calling for, and Riku's words echo in his head:

            "You won't be able to run or hide from me."

            "We have to go. Right now."

            "Wait, why should I got with you?" Roxas spitefully asks, "Why should I even trust you after that stunt you pulled?"

            True, Sora could just leave the human behind as it could slow him down… but putting another's life—mortal, at that—in danger is simply not who he is. He could never abandon somebody like that, no matter what. It would be Sora's fault if any harm came to Roxas at the claws of Riku, and he simply will not let that happen. Plus, he almost made it to first base with the guy; it would be rude to just take off.

            Suddenly Sora feels his fingers begin to tremble, and shakes slowly creep up his body.

            Oh fuck. He hasn't eaten since he left the hotel. Not now… fuck…

            "I get where you're coming from Roxas, I really do," Sora pleads with him, voice low and concerned, "But would you rather trust me or a ravenous wolfman who will probably turn you into ground beef then eat you on sight?"

            Sora knows he's right, but all it takes is another one of Riku's howls to convince Roxas and the human sends the vampire a nod of approval. The howl sounded closer than before, much closer, so Sora grabs Roxas' hand.

            "Listen up, Roxas, 'cause I'm only going to say this once…"

            Roxas nods again, "I'm listening."

            "Run."
Exuent
A/N: I hope you enjoyed Sora's introductory chapter! I apologize that his chapter isn't too terribly different from the last… I just thought it would be interesting to get Sora's perspective of the whole thing rather than forgo it. Just in case some of you are wondering, it is NOT a coincidence (or me being lazy) that Sora has an incredibly similar thought process to Roxas. But more on that later!

References and Inspirations:
- All the inspirations for the creatures of the night are drawn from multiple fictional universes, most notably Bram Stoker's Dracula and the 2011 Magic: The Gathering set "Innistrad".
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Please favorite, follow, and review! I will also happily take positive constructive criticism! I am always looking to improve my writing. Thank you!
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The Night