168A/N: I'm on my second to last day of spring break after suffering from the flu the entire break beforehand. Upon realizing that one of my problems with my boyfriend was that I had forgotten who I was in the relationship, I remembered that I missed writing. And upon remembering how much I hated this chapter, I redid it. I hope to go back and fix the shitty writing at the beginning, but that'll have to wait until I'm done with the story itself. I plan on finishing it soon, after only fictionpress knows how long. Enjoy loves, and please review.
This is more focused on Joaquin, for those who don't catch on.
"Up up, you fascist bastard!" The words were muffled and heavily accented, much like how one would say water was clear, and not having a head could present a problem. But just like the water could be changed from clear to red with a single drop of blood, Joaquin found the words crisp and heated against his ear within moments.
Swiftly, before more words could be said, he snatched the pillow beneath groggy head and swung it (without much grace, mind you) over his shoulder. A shriek. Giggle. Then harsh language intertwined with the infectious sound that flourished into laughter. Taking a deep breath, Joaquin could smell fresh rosemary and jasmine seducing his senses. But he still did not move; the day was young, barely birthed from the horizon, and even if he closed his eyes the rising sun pierced through the thin layer of his lids.
"Think you can ignore me, Emberwheat?" No, Joaquin thought as he slid his arm underneath his head, trying to find the warmth of the thin sheet that he had felt moments ago. Shifting his legs about the bed, he found a comfortable spot and groaned with both relief of finding it, and the frustration of knowing he would lose it very soon. But I can act like I can.
Just like that, the position was gone. It was not even a moment before he found himself forced into a fierce kiss. The lips were like cashmere against his own, which were sandpaper in comparison. There was no intentional love in the embrace, although their deep passion towards one another always shone through even the most minor of actions. She had wanted attention, and as he reciprocated sluggishly, she knew her companion had been seduced again.
Joaquin moaned quietly against her, his slender fingers staring to travel up and down the body that was lying next to him. So tiny she was, so petite in frame that it could only explain why her heart compensated vigorously. He could hold her arm in one hand alone, and let middle finger and thumb touch without incident. But he'd never hold her so...
Their lips parted, and their personal heaven returned up to the sky. Breathing heavily, Joaquin slowly opened his eyes and found another pair staring back at him with a glisten of amusement. The eldest tree could hold no candle to her eyes, a breath-taking mix of the tree and its freshly budding leaves. And her gaze squinted slightly as the owner of those eyes grinned.
A porcelain hand reached out and caressed his cheek, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Against him, she was a fire, burning and fierce like an eternal flame that would never diminish. "Want to ignore me again, Joaquin?"
Joaquin slipped away from her despite how much it hurt just to no longer be up against her tender skin. As he stood, the window behind her brought forth the sun, glowing behind her as if she herself was an angel. The light slithered into her dark golden strands and let the subtle fire burn around her head like a halo.
A sheer ivory nightgown covered her sprawled out form, accenting the sheen of sweat already on her skin. He felt a hunger burn inside him as he stared helplessly at her, a fallen angel that held no modesty. A moan of lust escaped him as her hands traveled down her body, letting her fingers caress places he longed to. Reaching her inner thighs, she slipped between them and slowly spread her own legs, letting the gown slide up to her hips.
"Never again," Joaquin managed out hoarsely before gently moving back on the bed and pulling her into a loving kiss. Unlike the last one, there was only love and passion, which long to be sated. Again, and again. Pulling her hands up above her head, his already naked form slipped over her shaking body, deepening the kiss. "Josephine, to ignore you is a sin."
Joaquin.
He heard his own name inside his head, slowly feeling his mind being forced back into his body. This body had housed the damned soul for literally centuries, and his thoughts had never hesitated to re-enter. The reason why was simple. An ancient soul inside a mortal body was like housing a princess in a shack. Things that are ancient are quite often known to be delicate, just as things in modern time were made cheap and were broken so easily.
"Glass," he whispered as his lips parted dryly into a solemn grin, "Should not be stored in glass."
Taking the first deep breath since awakening, Joaquin's grin turned into a quiet curse and grimace as he felt the ache of a stiff mortal body course through him, much like how something not quite chewed well enough goes down the throat in all the wrong angles. The chair creaked beneath him as if to agree, which brought the grin to his face once more as he slowly opened his eyes. A chair was made for sitting, just as a mortal body was for living, and yet they both didn't quite agree with the arrangement they had been put into.
At least I'm not talking TO the furniture, he thought as he glanced to his left, blinking to attempt to settle those damned eyes of his into focus. Why were human senses so dulled? Well, back in his day, everyone appreciated the fine arts and the masterpieces they were able to create. For the most part, that's all they did - appreciate. There was no need to do much else with art and music, dancing and etiquette. Now all humans seem to do as far as he could see was staring at the same screen as it waiting for life to come at them, shooting at one another for reasons he could never quite understand...no, he found himself lying. He's fought for territory more than a handful of times, and women and even drugs. But swords and hand to hand combat was always more...
Terrorizing. His mind stopped mid-thought as he stared at Kaelin. He had caught himself staring at her plenty of times before, but never so fast as he felt adrenaline rush through him, causing his heart to seemingly pound inside his brain and stop at the same time. That dream...he cursed violently as he pushed himself from the chair, reaching for the barely damp and bloody cloth resting on Kaelin's forehead. Memories are such poison to the present!
He could barely feel the dampness on the top layer of the cloth just before dunking it into the basin on the night stand. How long had it been, an hour at the longest? Even so far along into human life, his mind had never quite grasped the concept of how quick a human body can turn on itself and fall into exhaustion. Mind and body rarely communicated properly in the mortal world. And soul? Even if he was brought back into a body that craved light and air, a soul was not a concern. Joaquin still was immortal as long as his body was not fatally wounded. A soul can't stay in a body as long as he has.
Resting the cloth back on her forehead, he finally allowed himself to physically assess Kaelin's body. Joaquin felt his jaw clench as the cold sense of reality swept through him, but looking at her, truly looking at what Death was taunting him with, made him realize how brutal reality was. His hands, barely lifted, could feel the heat sweeping from her frail frame which trembled at times so violently that he swore she had to be laying on nothing but ice. Quickly but with complete caution he brushed strands of her hair away from her pained face, as for a moment instead of reminding him of a puppy's fur as it had so many times, it was like the dirt of her grave dusting her cheeks. Touching her burned him in so many ways, even for a second..
Jerking his hand away, fist clenched at his side, a groan of frustration escaped from him, eyes locked on Kaelin as he leaned on the wall. There was no doubt in his mind that she was dying. It was obvious after a moment or so, although he had known it beforehand. He's seen a woman in a lively state of life, and he's seen the same woman very much dead not much later. Kaelin seemed to fit what most would look like in between the two stages, leaning towards the latter. Joaquin had not been a man to let Death linger at the door in his vampiric life - he had always thought of it as something he had escaped and was never tempted to let it realize or let it care.
But now it was something that he wish he could distract for just some time, to make it look some other way! Just to leave the poor girl alone, just to let her heart just a bit calmer...
Inhaling sharply, Joaquin felt his hand move to his heart, leaning on the fist as he gasped for air. Without warning or reason, his heart was pounding against his chest, seeming to tear at his insides in desperation, grasping for something that oxygen could not seem to give it. He felt his lungs fill and empty as he tried to breathe, but it was a fruitless labor. There was a familiar sensation, floating at the top of his brain as he felt his knees start to buckle. Trying to grasp for something, anything to grab onto, his eyes darted to the first thing that caught his eye.
As he fell, slamming his head into the night stand as he lurched forward, the necklace almost seemed to wrap around the palm of his hand as if he was the treasured gem and it was the ribbon. The pain blew through his entire body, starting from the gash in his forehead down passed his bruised knees into the tips of his toes. Although, only his still open eyes saw the black flood over him before the floor could.
It could have been minutes or even hours later, but a strong overwhelming scent flooded Joaquin's senses as he groaned. Trying to turn away from the scent that was making his gag reflex work against him, Joaquin instantly regretted it. Clenching his teeth, he let the brief white wave cross over his closed eyes, the pain churning his stomach. He wasn't one to forget what a swift hit to the face felt like, but the human body never seemed to quite get used to it.
"I knew a knee to the stomach would have woken you up just the same," he heard a voice a few feet in front of him say with a little bit of regret in tone, "But you looked too pitiful." It was too soon to process, and as Joaquin started to open his eyes, he began to realize how much slower the brain was to restart from unconsciousness. Even though he knew his thoughts were faster than this, a body so unevolved...his OWN body, downgraded back to its original model.
As his stormy eyes finally focused, it didn't even take the ex-vampire even a second to recognize who was crouched in front of him, a pack of smelling salts in hand. Even though he had a mortal frame did not mean he could not appreciate, recognize, and envy the simple grace of what he used to be. Two pairs of eyes met, locked in what morphed from a glare on both sides, to defeat and muted surprise. "Brother," Joaquin sighed as he propped himself back against the wall, breaking the look and moving past him. "She's dying."
"No thanks to the both of us," Nicodemus said in return, turning and standing in a swift but somehow hesitant motion. Looking up at him, Joaquin realized that the vampire was a bit worse for wear. While he couldn't smell whose blood was whose, he knew that his blood brother was splattered in it, and that with the tears and slashes in his clothes, not all of it had to be his. Now was no time for questions; he couldn't even think fast enough to ask why he was here, let alone how he got to be there. All he knew was that Kaelin's time was wearing so thin that one of the undead confirmed the approaching of her crossing.
He knew that he could not cross with her, and that startled him like nothing had in a long while.