Chapter Text
The chill of water automatically makes Techno pinch his eyes shut, but that doesn’t help the burn of his sinuses or how his teeth chatter painfully in response.
It’s a short downpour, which drips around the water collecting at his ankles. Techno dares to blink the water out of his eyelashes when the dripping quiets, shivering all over and raising his hands to his face to wipe at the moisture. They’re caught before he has the chance though and tugged away.
Perhaps it’s for the best that he doesn’t get any of the water off of him, since something extremely fragrant is quickly dumped over his head. The scent is like flowers mixed with medicinal herbs. He doesn’t quite manage to close his eyes in time to prevent them from stinging. At least his eyeballs are clean now.
There’s enough time to see hands moving towards his face before he blinks. He bites his tongue not to flinch and manages well.
The fingers in his hair are gnarled, old and wrinkly. The age certainly makes the skin softer, water soaked paper over plump veins. It could almost remind him of another vampire, ages and ages ago. One of Techno’s first covens he worked for? Maybe.
These hands are rough as they scrub his scalp and the tangled hair hanging from it.
For good reason, he supposes. There’s some blood caked into his hair, he knows. This house doesn’t have running water like he’s used to, and the taps confuse him. Apparently none of them come out hot, or the vampire scrubbing him just didn’t care to bother. Either way, his hair had nearly been dyed a dirty pink from the few months of stewing in the iron and crimson.
In that way, the hands practically feel nice. The dirt and blood getting scratched off of his scalp, it’s nice.
Water escapes his eyelids, but it’s surely from the soap. Or maybe just water caught in them from the first pour. Salty and hot, rewetting his cheeks so that they’re extra clean. Either way, his nose is too cold to sniffle and his fingers have grabbed onto the stool forcibly to keep him in place as his hair is pulled and pulled. It’ll probably shine blonde like never before. Get even the dirty out of the dirty blonde.
Neat, or something.
There’s scarcely a second after the fingers leave his hair that another bucket is poured over his head. Techno just about takes a gasp of air till he’s trapped under the flow of freezing water, shaking too hard to have control over his bones. With the ache settling into them, he hardly wants to give it a try.
One of his arms is pried upwards where it was frozen. He gives it to them once he realizes it’s happening, since the bones are doing him no good. Something sharp sings over his skin, rough enough that he peeks at it. It’s a brush with yellow bristles, dragging over his arm and leaving behind soap bubbles and red raised skin.
He closes his eyes again and breathes, forcing himself to feel only the fingertips touching his arms. Especially when the brush ventures over the bite marks, then he really focuses on the fingers only.
Old skin, old veins, cold in the way that vampires always are. Digging into his flesh.
It’s quite nice of this coven to take such an effort to clean him up. Polite. They are not the sorts of vampires that are prim and especially focused on cleanliness. Dust lines every bookshelf and windowsill, and Techno often counted the mice running along the walls at night. They made good company.
In a way, that was nice, since he didn’t have to worry about being proper for them and offending their senses. Fanciness isn’t quite in his blood. Or bones. Or appendix. Or fingernails. Just assume any body part of his? No fancy in it.
But most covens like their feeders to look nice if they’ll be skulking around the place. After all, no one would buy an ugly lamp or refrigerator.
There are no lamps in this house and the refrigerator is old and flicks off often. The mice like visiting it.
The new place he’s going to and vampires within it may be different. So, it’s best to be the most proper and see what they want from there. If he looked lousy, no one might want him and then—
Another bucket of water douses his skin, forcing a gasp out.
After his skin is scrubbed red and his fingers frozen solid, like the opposite of being boiled in a pot, a towel is finally dropped over his head. The fluff on the towel is old and stiff, feeling almost the same on his skin as the brush did. Maybe that’s because the hands waste no time dragging him out of the tub and squeezing him with the towel like a wet ferret.
It is a small flavor of embarrassing, to be shoved and pulled every which way like a doll that doesn’t even know how to dress itself. Or perhaps more accurately, like a stubborn dog that doesn’t like bath time.
Techno thinks he's at least competent enough to keep himself proper.
But vampires always have a different view of things—must be those red eyes. Also of Techno as a person with capabilities, though. He’s not exactly good at many things, he’ll admit, so he can’t quite blame them. It’s just also natural for his cheeks to flush as he tries to hide behind his wet hair.
The vampires in this coven don’t see much purpose in interacting with him beyond bites and business. That’s really his whole job description, so it’s just fine. And it leaves far less chances for him to do something poorly and upset anyone. But it also means that when they need anything done, someone makes quick work of fetching and dragging and doing to him, before he even has time to think about it.
All the better. What’s there to think about in the drafty bedroom with drafty towels?
As he tugs on the clothes handed in his direction, almost fully by himself, thankfully, he can’t help sighing silently. Just the chill. Better to be dressed when it’s cold and his hair is wet, obviously.
Though a glance down shows that the clothes he’s in haven't seen this century. Or the last. Or even the one before, probably.
It’s a dress, poofy and maroon purple in color, victorian-ish in style, if Techno gave a wild, slightly too uneducated for living around century old vampires all his life, guess. It’s like a slightly oversized dress shirt with a sort of corset thing around his center, down into the patterned skirt. At least the fabric is smooth, expensive and nice. This is a nice dress, someone might have worn it to their funeral (high praise with the undead).
Techno quickly shoves the skirt part into the waistband of his pants, leaving only a bit of fabric poofing out. The vampire pulling on his hair doesn’t say anything about it, or make a move to undo it. Because it’s fine. ‘S just clothes.
The tugging of his hair comes to a conclusion: another brush is grabbed to drag through him. This one hurts far brighter, since his hair is a mess even without the filth in it. Every brush through lets out a terrible snarling noise, a wounded, angry beast would recoil. It covers up his heavy breathing.
Eventually, the old hand comes up and grabs hold of his jaw, holding it tightly so his head can’t move. His scalp screams louder, but he presses into the touch. Lets all the weight on his neck rest on it, and then some.
How many times has someone bothered to brush his hair for him? Not many. Well, he has hands and if he’s given a brush, he can do that much. So it’s nice that they bother.
The coven he’s in right now, it is nice in all the ways that matter. Techno likes living here, and he’s… not sad to leave, because he’s done all that he can do for the silver knife through a hand and the young vampire who wasn’t healing quite fast enough on his own yet. Those have been all fixed up, because of Techno. He’s helped how he could, and has been helped, and then he’ll go to the next people that need him.
What he’ll have to help with next and how he’ll be taken care of in return? Techno stays still, because he’s being straightened up, though his insides wish to squirm a bit.
Right, so that’s why he’s thankful for this! It’s helping those possibilities.
That’s what he thinks about as a throbbing takes up residence within his skull. It’s probably not from the brushing, he gets headaches all the time. It must just be how his brain is. The thinking about it helps him get through without flinching or flunking too much.
Eventually, his hair is straight enough, and probably lightened half a pound, for the brush to be put away. Techno sighs silently, relieved. Though the air is caught as a length of cloth suddenly wraps around his throat and tightens.
It’s a dull pain, bruise like, all across his trachea. And truly it shouldn’t be able to cut off his airflow at all, since it’s just some wimpy cloth. But Techno struggles slightly with his mouth all the same, useless at breathing in or out. The moment of flopping like a deadened fish drags out, till the cloth tightens around his whole neck. The pressure becomes even, steady.
Techno imagines that it is a hand, holding him still and down. Then he can breathe again and relax, in the ways in which itchy fabric does not allow.
Those gnarled hands are messing about, long enough for him to realize that it is a length of ribbon, similarly purple. A large, tight bow is tied. Like a glob of bright, dripping paint on an empty canvas, it hangs down his neck garishly. Streaking blood would look more at home, truly.
It’s not pretty, and Techno can’t imagine that any vampire would find it so. But then he takes in just how much of his neck is covered up by the thing and it becomes obvious that it’s not for pretty.
The only bite, new or old, that a vampire likes to see on someone’s skin is their own. You don’t make a profession out of feeding vampires without bites, though. Covering up is best.
There’s a second where the old vampire before him steps back and seems to really look Techno over. Not just at the individual parts of him with flaws needing to be shined out, but the finished product. He can’t help looking up, trying to catch a glimpse of their face so he can know what they see.
But, their face is blank. Not a single emotion penned across the black and white and gray.
“Thanks,” Techno says quietly, tipping his head and trying to balance sincerity and quietness.
The vampire doesn’t respond, but they do lean forward and grab his wrist. His feet are below him suddenly and he's being dragged away. A positive response, he thinks?
In the corner of the room is a mirror. Dust and fog cover the thing, till it can hardly reflect. But Techno catches a snatch of himself all the same.
The person mirrored back is pale, almost as much as an actual vampire. The only color on his face is the dark purple and black smudges below his eyes and the red rimmed inside of the water lines. Shoved within ribbon and fine dressings, he looks a dreadful porcelain doll, one that would be shoved inside a chest and buried. No amount of prettying up the cruddy present could add worth.
The hand on his arm never loosens, as it pries him from the old manor and out of the precious coven which he could only serve as much as a human is capable.
—
The vampires in the room talk in small groups, eyes always on the move and scanning the other bodies. Rarely do they stop on the person directly before them, like they’re a second thought. Or like the words they are saying are from five conversations ago. Words that mean more in their presence than their substance.
Techno doesn’t quite get it, but he’s sure to flick his eyes down to his feet whenever anyone looks in his direction. It’s better to appear at least a little respectful around the people who are deciding whether to take him in or not. That doesn’t stop his fingers from fidgeting, but he has to at least that. Otherwise, he would explode.
Still, his legs wobble from how he’s been standing so long. It really hasn’t been that long, but he gets tired easily. There’s a reason he can’t do much beyond this. He wants to sit, or maybe lay down. But he can’t do that till a new coven picks him out to have.
His mind tries to stray towards that topic, naturally. What will the next place be like? And the people within?
Will he have a room? A bed? Clothes or food or television?
Techno doesn’t know and there’s no way to know. There’s no point in guessing towards it either. However it turns out, it’ll be fine. The coven will take care of him how they see fit and he’ll have a home another day. That’s better than most humans have.
Don’t ponder on what could be. Be thankful for what he does have.
Eyes closed slightly and nodding at the thought, Techno almost jolts when he opens his eyes and sees a man before him. Quickly, he looks towards his toes. The short moment that his eyes pass over the bright red of the vampire’s before him, through the scowl and wrinkled nose, the hair on his arms stands up. A slight shiver goes through Techno, threatening to topple him over except how stiffly he locks his knees.
Vampires usually have to try to make his nervous system wig out like that nowadays. Maybe Techno really needs to jump back into feeding for different vampires, if he’s getting rusty.
Not that rust matters. Stuff like panic or fear doesn’t matter except that the blood flows faster. Some see that as a perk.
The blond vampire continues on without much more than a quick look, examining the other humans standing against this wall. Some of them meet his eyes, which feels stupid. Especially since most of them get a look like they’ve touched an electrical outlet afterwards. But they’re older feeders, people who might have human families they could return to if they don’t get rented or bought by a coven.
Though, Techno doubts that would be any good for them. Surely it’d end up with their whole human family in ruins, and themself too. Why make that risk, just to bother the vampires who could be opening their home to them?
It doesn’t make sense to Techno. But he supposes it’s one of those things he shouldn’t bother thinking about.
“What was his problem?” One of the humans whispers to another.
They do that sometimes. Like being human is reason enough to talk and interact. Techno thinks it’s improper, the thought brings a flush to his face. But ignoring them always does the trick, he’s great at dodging human interaction.
Still, his ears do work and he can’t help but hear.
“Maybe an older one. They get pissy towards humans with time.” A human snorts. “I only work with the ones under 200.”
“I don’t see much of a difference.” Someone answers.
Techno picks at the reddened, puffy skin around his fingernails. It peels and bleeds too easily. He pinches his finger instead and glares at the floor.
“Those anti-vampire zealots are trying to lobby the government again. Always makes work scarcer, it’ll pass,” A new human pipes up, voice aged but unconcerned.
A couple murmurs go through the group of humans, but then a vampire walks past and everyone is wise enough to quiet down. Techno keeps himself still and his face calm, hoping it’ll look less awkward than he always feels under the eyes that haven’t picked him yet.
Auctions like this aren’t particularly common or uncommon for Techno. It just depends how the coven he’s leaving does business, who they know and what’s happening in the vampire world. Techno doesn’t know about the specifics, he gives vampires his blood, he doesn’t do their taxes for them. But he knows that there are hours left and his socked feet hurt. Maybe he can sit down during the jewelry part, everyone’s eyes are always drawn to those goods even more than the living bloodbags.
It doesn’t come to pass, since a vampire dressed in the perfect balance of clean and subtle to be a worker walks up to Techno a few minutes later.
“Philza Craft of the Soporatus coven has deigned to purchase your live-in services,” The vampires says.
A slight bit of shock goes through Techno. He’s not really the sort that covens seek out eagerly, usually. Maybe the ribbon trick worked, one can never know how vampire brains really think.
Seeing no point in making them wait, Techno nods and steps out of the line to follow. The humans behind him watch with a mixture of apathy and frowns, but they’re already fading from his mind. If they're jealous or whatever, they should have behaved better. Instead he clutches his hands behind him and straightens his spine as much as he can before his shoulders ache too much. His hair has dried with a bit of a messy wave to it, and he has half a mind to grab it and yank it straight again. Like it might listen to him for once if it knows what's on the line.
They arrive at an obviously important looking vampire before Techno can make a go of it. In fact, a short glance shows that it's the severe looking vampire that had walked past shortly before.
Okay, so Techno has somehow made a good impression with old scowly. Maybe the slight barring of the man's fangs were in excitement to bite Techno?
Considering how the vampire outright scoffs at him, it's seeming slightly less likely.
Carefully, Techno unclutches his hands and holds them at his sides, bent at the elbow and wrists raised and pointed frontwards. Then he bows slightly, neck showing off as much as it can with the ribbon choking it. He pretends that his brain doesn't swoop with the motion and hardly dares to breathe.
“It's small. That's not going to be a problem, is it?” Philza asks.
“It shouldn't be, sir. They're more obedient at this age group too,” The worker says.
“Fine.” Philza sighs. “I'll take it now, then.”
“Of course, sir!”
Oh. Nice. He's passed some sort of test. Acing it as always, his bow must not be as rusty as he feared.
Standing slowly, Techno scarcely meets Philza’s eyes. He still looks displeased, but less like he's tasted something nasty, and more like he's just disgruntled. Techno can work with that. As long as he's perfect at his job, obedient, he can make this work for Philza's coven.
“I'm not paying the upfront fee, though. It's scrawny and bitten to hell.”
Techno's lips flatten out. Okay, extra extra perfect. Easy, since this is what he's good at.
The worker nods in agreement, which he's thankful for. No need for some random guy to haggle his new employer into an even worse state over a few dollars neither of them will even see. Apparently for the best, as Philza turns on his heel and walks swiftly towards the exit with that.
Techno’s socks slip on the floor in his haste to follow.
Philza is not a particularly tall man, as some vampires like to be. There's a few towering forms splayed around this very room, looking like matchsticks in their all black garb—too common to be unintentional. If Techno guessed, Philza is average adult man height. Very reasonable, really.
Techno is not average adult man height. Perhaps the lack of being an adult, a logical conclusion. And if he is shorter than children his age? The growth spurt he's owed is going to be very big. Obviously.
Either way, he practically has to jog to keep up with the man. It feels unbecoming for the moody lighting and starch stiffened clothes, like he’s a rowdy child kicking up the plush floor runners to show off how plucky he is. Techno is not plucky and he forces himself to fold into the smallest form possible to show it.
Despite how closely he is policing his body and posture, somehow, Techno still almost runs right into Philza when he comes to a sudden stop. It’s only jumping onto his tip toes so hard that they feel half broken that he stops himself. His pounding heart can't be tamed so quickly.
Being the perfect hired hand is going amazingly.
“Phil! I’ve been looking for you all evening, you’ve been scarce as anything,” Another vampire says.
They are planted right in front of Philza, and from how the blond looks around slightly, as though judging the possibility of getting past without any contact, it’s the only thing keeping him in the conversation.
“Yes, well, I’m here on business. We’ve all been very busy in my coven,” Philza says dully.
“Of course. Actually, I was going to implore you to stay for a bit of a meeting with—”
“Unfortunately, I must be going now,” Philza says, taking a step to the side.
Belatedly, Techno takes the same step over. A placating hand is held in front of Philza that impedes him. Techno swears he hears an almost imperceivable growl.
“I understand, Phil. It’s just that, with the increasing violence—”
“Mm, perhaps that has to do with my busyness, so you understand.”
“Well, it’s affecting all of us! I understand that your turned—”
“Do not.” Philza’s voice goes deadly, forcing a shiver up Techno’s spine.
The room seems more quiet, suddenly. Freezing cold quiet.
“Sir—”
“Step aside.”
The vampire does. Philza restarts his quick walk with a flap of his cape.
All the eyes in the room are not on Techno. A few might be, glancing over him in a slight interest over who has to be following the seething vampire, or even some pity. Regardless, Techno feels pinned to the floor. A mounted insect hung on the wall for examination. But there's no museum curator, only a man with pins pointed at Techno and unconcerned how they jab in.
Philza’s head starts to turn the slightest amount, as though he’s glancing back to see if Techno is there. His legs unstick and he outright trots to the man’s back. He’s right there, a respectful but close distance behind, before Philza’s red eyes flick over him for a scant breath. Techno’s chin is to his chest. He can feel his pulse in his jaw bone.
There's no comment or further look.
For Techno, he could never say that a room full of people puts him at ease. Social interactions are not his favorite nor best of feats. He bites on his tongue till his feet don’t stutter in the doorway. The quiet from lost voices and bodies steadfastly swallows him whole.
Nothing he can’t deal with, he is literally bitten for a living. Metaphorical teeth or real ones, all his domain. He's used to walking into sharpened mouths willingly.
—
Sandwiched between a powerful vampire exuding murdery vibes and a rolling landscape of actual city streets and all the things contained in those, Techno finds himself unable to relax. It's good, except that the car ride drags on and on for long hours. He hasn't gone this long without sleeping in… well, he can't remember. Maybe ever.
Look, he gets tired easily! Humans get tired, it's their thing. It comes with the living blood.
His eyes burn and all of his jumpy flinches start to become almost painfully violent, but his spine stays straight all the same. Thickly, he looks out the window and tries to track the buildings.
There's people too, now that the sun is out.
It's weird to see them through the glass. Though surely it'd be far weirder to see them up close. Most are probably human, right?
Techno thinks it feels crowded, even in the car. The buildings touch each other and people walk side by side. How can so many people live smushed together? So many places to go, too many. And everyone walks about them all casually.
There's a child human swinging between two adults’ hands. Techno blinks, long and hard. They're thankfully gone when he opens his eyes again.
It must be because the people don't have much money, having to live packed together like this. That's what causes the discomfort in his chest, he's sure. A sad existence, one Techno works hard to avoid. That his parents made sure he would avoid.
All these humans have no one to take care of them, and it's unfortunate. It’s just how it is, no reason to stare.
Techno's eyes refuse to unstick. Because he's tired.
The longer they drive, things become a bit more sparse. Philza and his coven must live somewhere more secluded. Most do, or at least the well off or old ones. All the better, because all the less people.
His eyes start dragging backwards, towards the signs of human civilization that are disappearing. The sidewalks have more cracks and the humans have droopier shoulders. Even when it's not crowded, they're quite sad. That's how living is for most people though, he reminds himself.
Not a good sight. He should close his eyes.
A few strands of Philza's hair sway as he tilts his head a little. All of Techno snaps, like a joint popped back into place.
He keeps scanning the outside of the window, fingers worrying his clothes.
The nerves in his stomach and beneath his skin and how his anxious eyes refuse to look away from the outside world, Techno feels a bit foolish. Younger than he is and newer to this whole situation. There’s nothing coming up that will be new to him. There’s nothing coming up that will be so bad that he’s not thankful for the opportunity!
It’s never happened before, so he’s not sure why he still gets so anxious about the possibility.
The car rolls to a stop, a red light glaring down like brilliant eyes. Philza's finger starts tapping on the wheel, quick and agitated. Techno can't bear to blink as he swallows painfully.
There's a person staring back at him. Techno realizes it belatedly, embarrassed to focus and find eyes on his.
That's too much contact with his eyeballs, no thank you. Any touching on eyeballs, even with other eyeballs? Nope, not allowed.
Techno can’t bring himself to look away.
There's something on the person's face that he can't quite name. Enough features are twisted up that surely it's a bad expression, but it's none so obvious. Anger is pretty classic, pretty easy, good to fall back on assuming. But no matter how he frames it, the eyes are too sad to be angry.
They're looking at Techno with sadness and disgust and something, one hand starting to raise like they're going to try and pluck him out of the car.
A hand grabs Techno's shoulder roughly so that he jerks around, stumbling under the force. But the same fingers keep him upright, even as he's bustled away. There's a body on his other side too, he's certain even without seeing.
“Be more careful when we're out here.”
“Sorry, mom,” Techno says dutifully, tongue overly careful with the tricky enunciation.
His mom simply sighs.
“I hate it here. I can't stand the city.”
“I know, but what can we do?” His father says, one step away but not touching.
Scantly, Techno peeks over his shoulder. That person is still standing there, still watching him. There’s something clutched in their hands and he swears their mouth is moving. But he can’t make out what they’re saying or what they could want with him.
It’s as though they’re afraid.
“Easy for you to say. You can still work while I’m stuck at home with him.”
Now it’s his dad’s turn to sigh.
“What do you want? It’s just a few more years.”
“Surely there’s some live in positions that don’t mind children. Can’t you ask around?”
“I don’t know. You know how they are…”
Guilt tugs on Techno as he faces forward again, frowning. It feels right to apologize again, but his mouth remains closed. Seen and not heard is always good, so he guesses it’s good.
His mom must have caught his backwards glance, since she gives his arm a tug.
“Don’t look at people so much, it’s rude. And draws them in to talk.”
Techno simply nods. His head feels heavy.
“And don’t talk to people like that, okay? Humans pry into people like us, because they don’t like it. They’re mean.”
His frown pulls stronger.
“Why?” He asks, voice barely audible.
“They’re jealous. Humans are jealous of everyone who is better off than them. Either that or afraid. But they’ll take it out on you.”
Techno doesn’t quite understand. His hand aches and his legs are numb. The whole world around him is a blur. Even the words are a little blurry.
“Everyone would be a vampire if they could be, but vampires couldn’t even live without us. It’s a type of special.”
The words are said not like a compliment, but something far heavier. It’s a duty.
“And everyone that can’t be that hates us for it.”
Surely this is the part where Techno opens his mouth and tries to say something respectful, short, quiet. But no words come out of his gaping mouth. Perhaps because his brain is simmering in his skull, repeating the sentences he heard over and over.
It seems really, really important.
Though all of that is cast away when arms suddenly wrap around him and pull him up. His father, certainly, but that’s more odd. This has never happened, and he’s not quite sure what to do or what it means. The lack of words is right, at least. But Techno is confused as he sinks in the hold.
Hair long enough to tickle his cheeks does just that. He turns his face into a shoulder, close to where it meets a neck. Warmer than the surrounding air, just barely. Softer than rough hands could be.
The arms around him are tight. That just makes him want to fold into it more. Techno doesn’t feel like he could fall or hurt or have the chill bite at him.
It’s nice. His fingers are persuaded to curl up and his face huddles in.
“Wilbur?”
The voice is far away, but also right beside his head. Techno’s face twists, the body against his coming into sharper focus just as he starts to open his eyelids. He’s set on something soft before they have the chance to fully open.
What? It’s—
Techno looks around sluggishly. The room is dark, cast in shadows and curtains. In fact, it reminds him of a nest—
Philza is standing before him, red eyes reflecting the smallest amount of light within the room. Though the man isn’t looking at him, instead shifting the blankets about with whispers. The acrid smell of vampire blood drifts into the air as Techno struggles to sit up and fully drag his brain back down within reach.
Before he can, another sharp hand ends up grabbing him and yanking him quickly, brain kicked far beyond reach. Splayed onto his side, Techno looks towards the stuttering, quiet growls above him. He sees the shining fangs before the eyes. Both are vampiric, obvious to him quicker than thinking. Knowing.
It’s obvious to Techno at least. In the same way that his heart knows to stumble and pick up as the ribbon on his neck is grabbed and pulled. The cloth tightens momentarily, enough to choke his arteries still and trachea blocked. Panic pierces his chest just as the ribbon is finally torn free.
Techno pulls in a single breath.
Teeth pierce his throat.
A short noise, pain and shock, leaves him as his body bends with the bite. It’s all just pressure at first, hardly painful in any real way. But Techno still pulls away slightly, his body knowing what’s to come and trying to avoid it at any cost.
Next, it’s bright.
One hand grabs onto his shoulder and the other knots up in his hair, pushing his head hard and away. His skull digs into the bed, if he had any awareness of that. His skull could explode to pieces right now, and he wouldn’t know. There’s far too much tearing, piercing, pain fighting to blot out his existence to notice little things like broken skulls.
It’s a star rubbed into a stab wound. The light and the energy and the heat and the power, all of it jams into the space under his jaw and sinks in. Slinks through his veins and arteries till the pain spreads out.
Another little nebula takes home inside his heart, making the organ shake. Wobbly cries leave his mouth in response, as he kicks and pushes away with his hands.
There’s no way not to convulse and claw under the imploding star. A human body isn’t meant to hold it all. That’s why it burns so bad, too bad, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—
With a wheezy noise, the cries from his mouth die. Techno will be glad for it later, when he can feel emotions. Same for the way that the spasms of his limbs slow and stop. Even his eyes roll upwards, resting against his open lids. All of his body stills, except for the blood pouring through and out of him.
There’s a wet squelching noise followed by a raw stab in his throat. Slightly, his chest jolts, but he can not move beyond it. The paralysis is a tad too heavy for that.
It doesn’t touch the pain, but his lungs and his heart slow under the stinging venom. In some ways, it makes the pain worse. Tears drip down his face unimpeded, quick and fat. But the natural fear at it, that dies along with the agitation of his body. Numb to everything but the churning star at his neck.
“Calm down,” A voice whispers.
It’s calm and firm. Techno could almost sink into it, if the teeth in his neck didn’t sink in further at the command. A rolling growl vibrates against Techno’s spine, almost enough to shake a yelp out of his lungs. But they don’t have the force to do it.
“Wilbur, it’s alright.”
Philza’s body casts over them, holding the vampire latched onto Techno. The jostling drives the pain deeper with every minute movement. Imperceivable needles, but a million of them. Really adds up, especially next to the massive razor fangs.
Shushing fills the air, soft as a breeze. It’s in time with an almost rocking of the vampire, and thus Techno’s body hanging from his hold. Saline crests over his eyelids with every sway.
A click shakes Techno’s bodies as the jaws around him unlock.
Air seeping into his torn skin stokes the flames ever higher. At least when the teeth are in, it’s like fingers pressing on the wound, keeping some of the injury together. But now there’s nothing to stop the flow of blood and venom and fusing gas.
Just barely, something between a gasp and a squeak escapes the very top of Techno’s vocal cords.
Techno can’t quite turn his eyes to see, but he knows that a vampire is looking at him. Cold, beneath the fire of the agony. Though his body doesn’t have it in him to send a chill, it’s everything but.
A hand grabs his elbow, tight and lifting him from the joint. All of his body is as flimsy as liquid between fingers, dripping from the point of contact. There’s the deafening sound of blood falling onto wet cloth. Splattering, at this point.
The breath in Techno’s throat grows weaker.
With a single twitch of his wrist, Philza sends Techno’s body off of the bed and falling onto the ground. His limbs bounce, then still. All of him stills. But the blood and the breathing.
Techno’s eyes are stuck looking upwards at the bed. Large and covered in velvet cloth and holding the vampires within the softest of embraces.
The floor is shined wood. It steals any of the warmth still clinging to his blood. At least the star dies too. The nothingness left behind is almost worse. Sucking and empty; collapsed stars become less than nothing.
Since there’s so little within Techno, but the inklings of pain itching at the cotton fluff, he can only take in the view between the growing black splotches. Philza is holding the other vampire in his arms, rubbing a hand over his back and enveloping him completely with his body. He traces a thumb over Wilbur’s face, as though checking on the bones beneath. Or ensuring that all of them are held with the same kindness.
It’s horrifically gentle.
When the dark spots clear enough, Techno can make out Philza’s face. Finally, the lines have smoothed away. In their place, there is something extremely obvious.
Fondness.
The vampires go back to rocking slightly, held tightly and bound together. It’s nothing more than a black and white silhouette in his eyes now, fading at the edges and more dark than ever. But now Techno doesn’t want to not see.
It’s nice. Even being this close to such affectionate touches: it is nice.
He can almost feel the warmth.