tampered | On-going Log;

Current Location: edge of the underground

On-going Log;

When; Feb 24; past midnight
Rating;PG-13
Characters; Divia

rokuro_makube
Summary; Rock and Divia meet. At the entrance to the underground, there is an exchange.
Log;

He was almost blind with his sunglasses on at this time of night, almost morning - if it weren't bad enough his senses were shot to begin with. Only children were scared of the dark, Rock told himself, even as he clung to the state of anonymity his shades gave, like a security blanket; when they were on, he was outside himself, and not a vulnerable dead thing. The gun's weight in his hoister was a heavy reminder.

The Underground was uncharted waters, for him. Red lamps lit the stones like blood or burlesque, something tempting and forbidden and sickeningly sweet that laid waiting, down the endless parade of artificial light and cobblestone. Rock's steps were unsure as he closed the distance between the him and Hades; he scrolled his sunglasses carefully down the bridge of his nose to get a better view of his surroundings. Was she here yet? Mistrust pounded in stead of a hearbeat.

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Technically speaking he was dead, she was unsure if she would be able to turn him but she willing to try. The turmoil she sensed in him was a thing of beauty. He could cause such havoc if given the right incentives...and the power to back it up.

Stepping out of the darkness, Divia walked into his view. "I am here. As I said I would be," she said, her tone amused and her gaze sharp. "Are we reaady to embrace the dark?" she asked with an coy little smile.

Rock surpressed the very unbecoming urge to yelp in surprise, swallowing it in a little gurgling sound. His sunglasses slid back up to cover his prying eyes. "Yeah... you did, didn't you." Breathe it out, steel the fear shivering in your gut - even he could feel the presence of an ancient being. What's done will be done. His head bowed, slightly, in acceptance, his gaze just below hers.

"So... now what?"

Divia offered a chilling smile as she held out her hand to him. "The fear you feel will subside very soon," she said in a motherly tone. "Come and I'll show you what is to happen next," she added, her voice surprisingly gentle.

So submissive all ready. Of course once she had bestowed upon him, her gifts that could likely change. She was willing to gamble that he would take full advantage of the power she was about to entrust to him.

His hand clasped hers, still smooth and pale, like a child would hold his mother's. There were still calloused skin from the years before on Rock's own fingers, but it felt comforting - even if the face it belonged to looked ages younger.

Hidden eyes fluttered upwards to join hers as well. A hypnotic quality resonated from her - was that a power of this small goddess, or just the taste of his own longing? Rock's voice no longer felt like his own. "Yes..."

She held his gaze as she stepped closer to him, still holding onto his hand. This part was always painful but it was necessary. Gently placing her other hand upon his cheek, her cool finger lightly brushing his cheekbone she stepped even closer.

"This may hurt but it will be worth the pain soon enough," Divia said, pulling Rock into her embrace while her fangs bit down into his neck.

This would be the moment of truth. She would take his blood and soon replace it with her own. Very soon he would be one of hers.

"Gnuugh!" Incisors sheared flesh, and Rock could feel as his jugular vein was pierced - squelch, pop - between her jaws. Reflextively, he gasped for air, shuddering as a dying animal would. The pain ran its way through his body - Rock braced himself, held his beath - just bear it for a little longer, a little longer.

Long-stagnant blood began to flow once again, through the stillness of his unworking heart and bleeding from the wound to Divia's lips. His brain was beginning to go light-headed (how? there'd been no circulation of oxygen to feed it in the first place) and queasy. Lungs burned - another impossibility. Through clenched teeth he forced himself to breathe, though the intake grew shaky, unsteady and panting.

How much more blood did she need? It felt like she was emptying him. She was emptying him.

Empty and cold here. Hand in his hand - soft, cool; he hadn't realized how hard he was squeezing it. Clinging, as if for his life. It was his rock.

Shh, it will be over soon. She spoke soothingly into his mind. This part was always the hard part. The human body could not help but to fight a little against the darkness. It was just nature after all a vampire was unnatural and deep down a human heart knew as much.

Though Rock was dead, his response to her taking his blood was the same when she feed off the living. Perhaps it would work and he would turn. She pulled back wiping the blood from lips with her free hand. It was time. Bringing her own wrist to her lips she bit into her own vein and the blood began to pour forth.

"Drink and become one of us," she said, lifting her bloody wrist toward him, urging him to drink. Drink and become family.

His head spun. Carefully, Rock brought a hand to his own wound, wiping away a small trail of the still-oozing blood. Through the haze, he tried to examine the feel of it between his fingers, rubbing it into skin, as if to convince himself of what had just transpired.

Now she offered her own blood. A fleeting thought: this could be just a really strange fetish - but he found himself taking her hand nonetheless.

"Shared blood... taking it too literal." Mumbles through shaky lips and hands; first taste through a kiss, then hungrier, drinking it in.

She smiled as she allowed him to take in her blood. The blood that would bring him across...would change him...would tranform him into an eternal creature.

Unsure of how his body would react to the change; Divia let him take a little more of her blood than she normally would allow one she was turning. After all his body was dead and she was aiming to make him undead.

After a few more moments she roughly pulled her hand away. The wound on her wrist healing almost immediately.

"This part will be more painful than the blood exchange..." Divia warned.

She knew only too well the pain that accompanied the transition from human into vampire. If he survived it then it meant she had successfully turned him.

Drunkenly, when her wrist pulled away, Rock half toppled, half hobbled forward, almost onto the ancient being herself - a combination of blood loss and consumption? He struggled to stay on his feet, still wobbly, until a few seconds later - it hit.

A sudden stagger backwards, up against the wall; mouth, tongue, throat, stomach, gut - the blood left a trail of unnatural cold, so cold it burned into him, a digestive brand. An alien beast in his chest clawed and shrieked and squeezed and it was then he realized that was his heart, burning and swelling with her disease, revived to infect and defect and he couldn't stop that one fatal beat--

--Buh-Bump, that was all, and the sharpnel flew, faster than it could, should, everywhere inside him and he slid to the ground, knees afflicted, unsure what his name was outside of himself (inside it was twisted, turning, churning, and all that was him), only wanting to sink, back into the grave he belonged and down in the ground where the dead men go.

Divia stood by watching the transformation take place. Sheer will alone shall see you through the change.

Her eyes glowing yellowish green through the darkness. A smile played at her lips as her tongue lightly brushed against her fangs. Such pain...so delicious. A new son, a new fledgling...a new dear one.

She glided over to him and bent down beside Rock fallen form, her cold hand maternally brushing against his cheek. "Cross the threshold and embrace the power of the dark," she whispered. "Come to me, dear one."

Rock's eyes were open, but all he could see was blinding, hot white, the inside of his eyelids inversed, unnameable colours flashing in the corners of his vision. It hurt to see, but he couldn't shut his sight away, nor summon the voice to scream, nor the substance to purge. When a sudden darkness reached forward and touched him, immediately there was panic. With a small, choking wheeze, he turned his head from Divia's touch, away - fingers uselessly tore at his face, but left only streaks of red skin, no cuts. He didn't notice the clatter as his shades were torn off, but underneath the white of his eyes had gone completely bloodshot.

Little more than a small huddle on the ground, now - something like a fetal position, racked by laboured breathing. Boiling blood - anything to leave his husk behind, even the shadow's touch. Where had she gone...? He was sorry... "Please..."

"Fight through it," she answered simply.

She could not ease or take the pain away. It was something that he would have to conquer. To fight off the pain and embrace the change ws something that each vampire had to do. Death was painful, undeath more so.

Once the strength of the powers began to take hold the pain would fade away. Fade away only to be replaced by the hunger for the first kill. Once again Divia spoke, "Come to me." Her tone forceful and compelling. She would not allow him to give up, he would cross over.

Too far away to make out the words, but that voice - still blind, his blank blue eyes fixed themselves to the direction of the sound. Familiar...

Hope wasn't quite the word for this feeling. He just didn't want to be swallowed alive (?) again, and death wasn't an option he allowed himself. (But he was already dead, what other options did dying dead men have.)

One: breathing evened out - still deep, hungry inhalations, but calmer. Two: spasms, a jolt that shot through the spine, waking up the dreaming cells from their nightmares. Three: still shaking, a hand reaches out and takes its grip in the wall - a second one soon follows. Pull yourself together, onto your feet.

He's either hallucinating, or he can feel dead weight flaking off his skin as he, stumbling, climbs his way back upwards. He can't feel his fingers, numb, but they're piercing solid brick.

Such a struggle but at least he was fighting. It pleased her to see that there was still some determination left within him.

Hopefully her gamble would pay off and he would be an apt pupil. One that she could unleash unto the City. One that she could introduce to her other dear ones.

"Embrace it...come across."

(The only option left was rebirth, of course.) The voice was louder now, calling him out from the light and into cool dark. Shapes began emerging into sight, but still too bright, like an over-exposed picture. Someone standing before him, he could feel the awesome force of her presence so much clearer - it cleaved through his confusion until all that was left at the core of him was awareness of her - his source and maker.

Sensation was creeping back into his limbs again, and pain dripped off his joints like so much melting fat, leaving him lighter - feeling hollow-boned, weightless. The excess had burned away: human mortality, a memory.

Testing out this new body, he pushed away from the wall (imprints of where his digits had unknowingly penetrated rock remained, a tiny testament in stone) and settled his weight on his own two feet. They held. And he was still standing.

A feral desire stirred, just waking, in the back of his mind. Rokuro Holmes bit the inside of his lip, impatiently. "Mm... Mother?" I'm hungry.

And there is was the hunger. A thing of beauty rest assured. The smile that crossed Divia's lips was one of immense pleasure. A test of his new found powers in order. Turning to walk further into the Underground, Divia motioned for her new son to follow.

"Come, let us feed that hunger of yours," she said, her tone slightly amused.

The Underground was full of foolish mortals that liked to embrace the darkness and any one of them would make a suitable meal. After all she was never one to let a hungry vampire go unfed.

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