Cry for Help, Reserved

[Damien]

The screech of a hurt animal was heard, causing the birds in the trees to fly off and scatter. A man sat on the ground some 15 feet away from the large tree in front of him. He held something to the groud and struggled with it for a moment. "Hold still!" He yelled at it and a moment later he held the struggling animal in his grasp. He took hold of one of the long needles that was embedded into the feathers of the bird and pulled it out. The bird made a sound somewhat like that of a dying cat and then tried to take part of the man's flesh in its beak. The man pulled his hand back quickly, just in time to avoid some of his skin being torn off.

"Hey, watch it! I'm trying to help you! Calm down, all right?" He said. He gripped the last of the needles and then pulled it out, tossing it to the side. He then laid a bandage on the ground and put the bird ontop of it, wrapping the bandage around with quite difficulty. He finally managed to get it and he let his grasp on the bird loosen, in which the bird took the opportunity to wriggle out of his grip completely. He then shook it's feathers and hopped up to the man, jumping on his shoulder and nipping at his ear affectionately.

"Yeah, I know. I know. You love me only when I'm not hurting you to help you." The man sighed and then leaned up against a tree. "Well, I guess we won't be going anywhere near that tree, will we Aren?" He put his hand up and stroked the raven's soft feathers before sighing again and shutting his eyes, folding his arms in front of him.

[Endymion Wolfe]

Endymion was asleep under the trunk of a pine tree, curling between two roots that dove above ground before they buried themselves back in. His head rested against his balled up jacket, his face in a rather peaceful look as he dreamed away until a sound pierced through his black dreams. Eyes that were his original eye color, blue-green, opened. He watched as the birds scattered, high pitched screeching pounding at his ears. He winced slightly. It sounded like a bird was being tortured. Endymion shrugged it off at first, thinking it was just a few high school kids; caught a bird, having fun with it. You know, kid stuff. Though, as the screeching continued, Endymion found himself growing a conscious.

Sitting up he looked into the direction of the screeching, giving a cat-like stretch before he gracefully brought himself to his feet, snagging a leather-bound folder and holding it against his side. The folder held various scores of music he had created, but something that was usually at his side was missing; his violin. Endymion, during one of his nights of furious playing, broke a string, and realized with disbelief that he didn’t have another to replace it. The strings for his violin were special ordered, and now he had to wait in agony as they were delivered.

His sparking blue-green eyes narrowing slightly to try and get a good visual of the man’s figure under the tree before he himself was viewed between the leaves. He stood there for a moment, realizing that the man really didn’t look like a high schooler. Though, with the age of some of the vampires that were enrolled in the school you could never really be too sure anymore. Pressing his lips together he leaned against the same tree that had given the bird those sharp needles, studying as the bird was being wrapped in a bandage. So, it seemed the bird wasn’t getting tortured at all. Tilting his head he watched the bird jump up onto the man’s shoulder, Endymion blinking slightly as he heard the man talk to it. Deciding that the unknown man wasn’t hurting the bird Endymion decided that his noble moment of the day was dashed. Still rather sulky about his violin he decided that it would not be a good idea to approach someone.

Turning around he brushed the wrong was against one of the leaf bushels, letting out a little gasp as a needle imbedded itself right into the milky, soft flesh of his arm. A faint trickle of blood dripped down his arm before he pulled the needle out, giving a little hiss. The smell of his own blood overpowered his senses, and he hoped that the man with the black bird wasn’t a vampire, or a mutant with a wonderful sense of smell. Licking the blood from his fingers he decided to find another, more comfortable spot to rest in, maybe get more inspiration for a new piece of his. Nope, Endymion didn’t feel like drawing attention to himself at the moment. All he wanted was his violin back.

[Damien]

The bird had settled into the crook of the man's neck and was now rubbing against the man's head. The man smiled and then moments later he felt his stomach twist slightly. His nose twitched and he breathed in, sniffing. It was unmistakeable; he smelled fresh blood. He stood up quickly, causing the bird to dig its claws into his shoulder. He winced slightly at the pain, but then again it was nothing that he wasn't used to. He could feel a faint trickle of blood run down his shoulder and then sink into his shirt slightly, but he ignored it. He was more interested in that new scent of blood.

He walked quickly towards the tree that had shot those needles at the bird. Now, it seemed immobile. Perfect. That was exactly where the blood was coming from. The man quickened his pace, the bird on his shoulder holding onto his shoulder as if it would fall off at any moment. The man turned his head and looked at the bird. "Aren, fly ahead. See if you can see anyone." He whispered to it. The bird rubbed up against the man's face once more and then took off, flying ahead of him and circling the large tree. It then faultered slightly and flew back down, landing on the man's shoulder. It cooed in his ear, her signal for having seen some movement.

The man walked forward, reaching the trunk of the tree. He then reached his hand into his pocket and took out a small flute. Maybe if he played it he would catch the attention of whatever it was that was hurt and bleeding. The man's fangs started to grow and his eyes were filled with the want of food. He had missed a meal or two and was starving. He craved to feel that liquid run down his throat again, sending him a satisfying feeling throughout his whole body. Putting the flute to his lips, he started to play a soft tune.

[Endymion Wolfe]

Endymion found himself twirling a few strands of his hair behind his ear, eyes looking for a nice little spot on the forest floor to take a nap in. While Endymion didn’t have his violin he was always looking for new inspiration. He could always write a few bars of music down even though he didn’t have his violin. While he had a collection of other instruments at his disposal he always found himself composing and playing the violin most of all. The forest was alive all around him, his own senses dulling to any type of danger that might be around; a thing that Endymion really needed to get out of. He put himself at great risk at times, but when it came to his music and his muse he thought it was justifiable. It was alright to go through some pain when in the end the music would cure you of it and do even more than that.

He heard the flapping of a bird overhead, tilting his head upwards to see a black bird in the sky. As he thought about the black bird he saw before he really didn’t think it would be the same one. There were countless black birds in the forest, and as soon as the black bird wasn’t seen in the sky anymore Endymion’s mind was once again off of it. He weaved and zagged through a few of the larger trees, finding a rather perfect spot to curl himself up in. Endymion knew exactly why he was acting like this; but he wasn’t going to let himself say it aloud or admit it. The scene with Seth and Akasha upset him; and it reminded him of things in his past that he just didn’t want to remember. Endymion got too attached too quick, and while he said he would not do such a thing when he came to Blood Grim he failed himself. But, Endymion wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Pursing his lips together he stopped beside one of the trees, pressing his fingers against the bark. Then, the soft sound of a flute entered his ears, peeking Endymion’s attention. Furrowing his eyebrows slightly he became in-tune with his senses again, telling where the sound was coming from, and feeling the initial power and energy of the one who was making it. Taking in a small breath Endymion realized that the creature producing the sound was far more superior than he was; and that was something Endymion hardly ever ran into. As far as Endymion knew he was the eldest of the vampires at the school. But, it seemed that was no longer the case.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets they sagged further down his body, revealing the milky, pale flesh above his pants and below his fishnet shirt, a few musical notes visible in that line of skin. Looking over his shoulder he then turned around, making a note to place his score folder down, along with his balled up, wrinkled jacket in the spot he was going to lounge in before he decided to confront the Flutist. The cut that had been made from the needles had since closed, but the smell of the blood was still fresh along his arm. It seemed that the creature did pick up on that small amount, and because it was moving towards him, it seemed that they might be hungry.

[Damien]

He knew the flute was heard, and yet nothing responded. The man sighed, stopping the soft tune and then he made his way towards the smell of the blood. He spotted, moments later, the pale-white flesh of a man. He hopped up into a tree and moved silently along the branches. Having spotted his victim, the man sat down on the branch above him. He looked down at the man. Sniffing the air once more, he concluded that this was, in fact, the source of the blood.

At the angle he was at, it was hard to get a good look at the man beneath him. He tilted his head a little to see if he could get a better look and his eyes fell on the musical note tattoos near the man's pant line. A smile formed on the man's lips. Aah, so he's a fan of music, is he? The man thought. He then looked more closely at him. He sniffed and smelled the scent of blood once more, but then held back a hiss as he tried to use his mind to penetrate the other's, only to find that he was also a vampire.

The man on the branch then grinned and sat back against the trunk. He put one leg up and rested his arm on it, the raven on his shoulder flying to rest on his upper arm. He then looked down at the man. "Not a good time to be bleeding, is it? Not with all these vampires and lycans around." The man grins. "Tsk, tsk. I would have thought you'd have more sense than that, vampire."

[Endymion Wolfe]

Endymion, leaning against the tree, heard the man speak above him, slightly disturbed at the fact that he could get so close, and yet Endymion hadn’t noticed. He was getting out of shape and rather careless. Maybe he just needed to lock himself in his room for a few days and go with some intense training. That would do him some good; get his mind off resent events. Hearing the other’s slightly demeaning words he help back his usually boiling temper and sharp tongue, swallowing any comment he could make.

Giving a slight arch to his back he angled his head up to look at the man above him, studying him the best he could from his position. He could feel the push of the other’s power as he tried to get into his mind, and that darkened his expression. “A mind is a rather private place; a place where strangers don’t belong.” His voice was soft, and still held a calm lilt to it, that seductive French accent something that Endymion couldn’t get rid of even if he wanted to. Licking his somewhat dry lips he tried to calm his mind before he spoke to the other once again.

“Mistakes happen,” he shrugged. Yeah, he bled; so what. He wasn’t bleeding anymore. What was the big deal? “I can hold my own.” Though, when the stranger spoke about how he should have more sense than that he slipped down the tree trunk, curling his legs underneath him. “Maybe I just thought bleeding would get me some attention.” Ah, well, normally Endymion wouldn’t go to such extremes to get himself attention, and while he was trying to avoid people it seemed the opposite happened. Why was it when Endymion wanted attention he never got any; and now when he didn’t want attention he got it? Musing on that fact he made sure to concentrate on keeping his mental blocks up, confident in the strength of his own mind.

Placing his folder in his lap he refrained from opening it, not really in the mood to share the pieces that he was currently working on. They were rather depressing; rather deep. Some times he just wanted to keep his work and his vision to himself.

[Damien]

((grrr... I hate my internet... >< always messin' up on me. Had to write this twice. be happy.))

The man watched all the movements Endymion made, watched him lick those dry lips of his. As he spoke and that rich French accent flew through the air, the man felt himself grin. In all his years he had yet to hear that kind of accent. And now, hearing it right in front of him, he couldn't help but want to hear more of it. As Endymion continues to speak, the man found himself turning his head away, that soft grin turning into a soft smile instead. He waited until he heard all that he would out of that accented mouth and then he took a deep breath, composing hisself and then speaking.

"True, a mind is no place for someone else to enter. But how else would I have figured out you were a vampire, my friend?" He jumped down off of the branch and landed in front of Endymion. He kneeled and held out his hand. "Let us make it so that we are strangers no longer. Damien Dumitru." He said. "A pleasure to meet someone other than me with a passion for music." His eyes fell to the tattoo on the man's abdomen and then rose back up to Endymion's eyes. "What, may I ask, do you play?"

Bending his head down slightly, he looked into the man's eyes. He scanned them and then rose his head up. "You say you did it to draw attention to yourself. Yet your eyes hold that look of despair. Something happened to you, and that caused you to want to be alone, not to get attention." Damien sat back, one leg raised and his arms hanging on it. He looked at the man in front of him. "Could it be that somehow you have seen something that broke something inside? Or is it perhaps that you have witnessed something that would have better been left unsaid; better have been left private?" Damien bowed his head slightly, looking back to the other man, scanning his eyes. "It hurt you, didn't it? Hurt you like nothing hurt you before."

[Endymion Wolfe]

The grass that Endymion was sitting on was soft, and he found himself taking his hand from on top of the folder, running his fingers against the blades of grass. He shrugged slightly as Damien spoke about figuring out he was a vampire. “Do you really need to know?” was his softly spoken question, his eyes staring at the shadow Damien cast on the ground. When Damien jumped off the branch Endymion looked up, catching the man’s eyes only for a moment before looking down to Damien’s hand. “Endymion Wolfe.” He took the man’s hand for a brief moment, letting his fingertips linger on Damien’s palm before drawing his own hand away. “Everything,” he stated as a matter-o-factly, giving a little shrug. “Violin in my passion, though.”

Endymion saw as Damien kept looking into his eyes, and he just gave his head a little turn to the side, avoiding eye contact. When Damien started to speak Endymion’s face held a little sneer to it. “Who are you, a psychologist?” When Damien started to draw conclusions about his life or why he was acting the way he was he just rolled his eyes, shrugging it off. “Just because I know your name it doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.” Endymion sighed, pressing his back against the tree trunk, his head turning to the side, staring at a bunch of leaves. “You are right, though. I want to be left alone.” He thought that would be a good cue for the man to leave. But, if Damien was going to still stay around and bug him than he would just have to leave himself.

Was he hurt? Yes, he was hurt. Had he ever been this hurt in his life? Well, to tell you the truth, his life was getting to be so long he really didn’t member all of it. After being Endymion’s age an Immortal could get to feeling rather lonely; searching for someone to fill that void of loneliness. Sometimes one could jump to conclusions; and Endymion did just that. It was a mistake, it wouldn’t happen again. Immortals were still learning just like Mortals. To say an Immortal knew everything and acted perfect is ridiculous. They make mistakes just like everyone else. Endymion, though, wished that he didn’t make this mistake. His mind started to wonder off, his eyes closing for a moment as he tried to think of the song he always turned to to make him happy. But, he just couldn’t remember it anymore.

[Aw, computer problems suck ]

[Damien]

(( eh, it happens. I get used to it. ))

Yes, I really need to know. He thought. He shrugged and then shook his head. “Nah, I don’t really need to know. I was just wondering.” Endymion then stated his name and took Damien’s hand and he couldn’t help but smile, even just a little bit. He nodded his head, bowing it slightly. “A pleasure.” He said softly. He then looked back up at the man as he spoke. “The violin? I’ve played it. Once. Though I stopped. Wasn’t what I was used to, so I quit it.” He looked down slightly and then propped up a leg and let his arm rest on it. The raven that had been with him before came flying and landed on his arm. There it perched, looking from Endymion to Damien and then back. Then it remained still, looking off into the forest.

Damien snickered. “A psychologist? Far from. I just tell what I can see, what’s right in front of me.” He looked at Endymion. “And you my friend, have pain and hurt written all over that beautiful face of yours.” Damien pointed out. He listened to Endymion and then nodded. He stood up slowly and looked down at the man. “Sure. I can take a hint, no problem.” Damien said. He brushed himself off and then looked down at the man. “You know, showing that cold exterior would make people not want to be around you. It just makes others feel the same as you.” Damien watched the man and wondered silently if he should even try it. He looked at the ground and then at the bird that had moved to his shoulder and then he silently told himself to just do it.

Bending down, Damien looked the man in the eyes. “Cheer up, love. No one likes to see anyone in a sour mood such as yours.” He bent forward and pressed his soft lips to the man’s forehead lightly. He then stood up and looked down at Endymion. He put a hand to his own forehead and put two fingers together, moving them away from his head in a sort of salute. “Take care.” He said, and turned to walk of. Taking a few steps forward, he turned and disappeared behind a couple of trees. As soon as he was out of sight, Damien stopped, closing his eyes as he took off his shirt. Moments later, two large, black feathered wings emerged from the beneath the skin on Damien’s back, causing some of the skin to peel away and fall to the ground. He winced slightly as blood started to trail down his back from the open wounds. But they would soon heal.

Damien turned around to face where he had just left, face where Endymion was. He turned his head to see his large wings folded behind him and he plucked out one of the soft black feathers. He then held the feather in his palm, raising it to eye level, and then blew on the feather, watching as it danced in the air towards Endymion until it landed right in his lap. Damien smiled and then turned around again, knowing he had to leave before someone was attracted by the smell of the freshly drawn blood. His own fangs had already grown at the smell of blood. He looked up and hopped up into one of the trees, licking his lips and ready to find some small mammal that would keep his hunger satisfied until he could properly feed. Spotting a squirrel, the man grabbed it, biting his fangs into the small creature’s neck and sucking the blood from it. His eyes closed as he sat up in that tree; relaxed, satisfied.

[Endymion Wolfe]

As Damien explained he stopped playing the violin Endymion frowned. Why stop playing such a wonderful instrument. He shrugged the comment off, though; it really wasn’t his place to judge. If Endymion picked up the flute he would probably not like it, either. Endymion remembered playing the flute in his schoolings; and it just didn’t gel for him. Giving a lick to his lips he watched as the raven flew towards them, studying those beady eyes before he returned his attention back to Damien.

Hearing Damien’s snicker to his comment about being a psychologist made Endymion give a small little smile, and then only a frown when Damien said he had pain and hurt written over his face. The comment about his face being beautiful would have spurred Endymion on to getting closer to Damien, to touching him. But, the only thing Endymion could think about was Seth’s words in French to him; how Seth said he was Endymion’s. Well, that didn’t even last for half a day. His thought process was broken as Damien stood up, saying he could take a hint. Endymion was being rather rude to Damien, and Endymion just couldn’t see his rudeness at all. “If they start feeling the same....maybe they should take that as their cue to leave, hm?” Endymion just couldn’t let something go like this. He had to speak out to Damien, and maybe try to defend himself, even though such action wasn’t needed.

When Damien bent down and looked in his eyes Endymion returned it, his true eye color revealed to the man, sparking, deep, and pure. Lips like silk parted ever so slightly as he felt those soft lips of Damien’s press against his forehead, that one kiss, and moment of physical contact doing well to slightly calm him down and take him from the deeper, darker parts of his mind. Eyes fluttered as those lips were taken away, only to see Damien salute him and then walk off. Endymion opened his lips to interject, to make the man stay. But, he never did get his voice to work at times like this.

Eyes turned stoic before he closed them, pressing his head back against the tree trunk before a small gust of wind was felt against his body. The black feather landed in his lap, and his eyes opened, looking down to it. He picked it up delicately, studying it, twirling it between thumb and forefinger. The feather was larger than a bird’s could get. But, well, maybe there was a big bird flying around. Endymion pressed the soft feather against his cheek, letting the tip trail his jawline as the smell of a vampire’s blood caught his senses. The sent revealed this vampire to be old, powerful; more so than him. He knew it had to be Damien’s blood.

Endymion found himself transfixed; he just had to taste it. Fangs grew in his mouth, his senses opening and probing until he got in tune with the man’s aura. He followed Damien’s path like a lost puppy, and soon Endymion was standing underneath the tree Damien was in. He didn’t see the skin on the ground, but the smell of the blood was making his head throb for just a taste. Glancing around Endymion finally realized to look up; and when he did his mouth dropped. He had to get up there. So, with the grace of a cat Endymion climbed the tree, finding himself on the same, sturdy branch that Damien was perched on. His lips opened, taking in a breath as he leaned forward. Endymion reached out, slowly, and then touched one of Damien’s wings. The smell of blood was overpowering, and Endymion couldn’t remember when the last time he had blood was. So, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Damien’s neck, only to try and sink his fangs into Damien’s skin.

[Damien]

Damien had finished his feast. Or rather, his snack. That was barely enough for a small vampire, a toddler. He tossed the rotting body aside and put his head back against the trunk and sighed deeply. The man that sat in the same position, probably only ten feet away, was the only thing on his mind. The need for blood, his desperate need for it, had completely left his mind.

He could feel the aura of another, right below him. But Damien's eyes were already closed. He needed to take a break from it all. He needed some kind of comfort. Some kind of... vacation. He opened his eyes and looked up into the trees, sighing a bit. His eyes focused on a slow-moving insect on the branch above him and he closed his eyes once again.

He heard rustling next to him and then he felt a hand on his wing. It shivered slightly under the touch and Damien opened an eye. He looked over just in time to see Endymion next to him and pressing his lips against his own neck. His eye fluttered closed for a moment and then he opened them as he felt fangs against the skin.

With practiced movement, the man moved his neck away from the other man. He turned his body so that he was sitting away from the trunk of the tree. Endymion was now in his spot by the trunk of the tree and Damien turned to face him. He then put both of his hands on his shoulders and he looked at the man, looked into his eyes before leaning forward and placing yet another soft kiss on his forehead. "Don't try sneaking up again, love. Doesn't work every time." Reaching around his back he pulled out another feather and put it right behind Endymion's ear.

Lifting up, Damien flapped his large wings and rose up above the tree. He then slowly glided down and landed in a clearing, folding his wings up and then shaking off. Leaves fell to the ground all around him and he brushed his arm off once more. Sighing he fell to the ground, lying in a spread-eagle position and closing his eyes. He had to stop making those close calls like that. They just didn't work. He was about to break, and anything close to that would definately help him break quicker.

[Endymion Wolfe]

As his lips connected to the soft, delicate flesh of the vampire’s neck he now realized that it was really stupid of him to be up in the tree, trying to feed from a vampire stronger than himself. It was rare he ran into someone of this strength, and he was highly drawn to taste the other’s blood, and, in fact, he did get a little taste. His fangs pierced that artery and a good gush of blood poured into his mouth before that neck was taken from it, his eyes swirling with that wonderful red color as he watched a trickle of blood fall down Damien’s neck until the holes closed. Endymion wished that this was an offense punishable by death. Yes, kill him; he really had no real reason to live. He tried sleeping, but he had just been interrupted by one thing or another. TO get into the deep vampire sleep that he so craved he needed to get away from the school to get it. Find a place where no one would get him, wake him from his self induced eternal rest.

He waited to be hit, beaten; he knew a vampire didn’t like another drinking from them; it was something special; at least that is what Endymion felt about it. Endymion only let his lovers drink from him; and a lover was something Endymion would never have again. But, the pain that Endymion was somewhat hoping for never came. Endymion was moved by Damien against the tree trunk, his head bowing, a few black strands falling in front of his face as he felt those hands upon his shoulders. He wanted to feel pain; because something had to be better then the pain that he could still feel coursing through his veins, the emotional pain that Seth had put him through.

His eyes opened after a while to see Damien’s looking into his own. His eyes couldn’t hide his emotions that he was trying so hard to forget. Blue-green eyes, his true, brilliant color seemed glassy with his mental anguish, and as he watched Damien pluck a feather to place behind his ear he frowned, feeling those lips upon his forehead. No, he wasn’t going to sneak up on the man again, this was, in Damien’s mind, the last time he would see the vampire. Endymion was out here, really, to look for his ‘final’ resting place, if you will. He wanted to force himself into that wonderful, emotionless sleep. He had tasted the vampire’s blood, even though it wasn’t as much as he wanted. It was delicious, of course, and even though Damien was Fallen, he could still taste that angelic history. Sweet, and yet tangy with the spice of a vampire’s blood. A combination Endymion had never tasted before.

While he was tempted to follow the man as he flew from the tree he decided against it, giving a graceful jump down from the branch as he disappeared into the trees, looking for a nice cave he could block and decorate, bring in a comfortable bed. He wanted to be alone. But, as he gently plucked that black feather from behind his ear he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, eyes set on the beautiful thing as he walked without looking, still able to step over all the vines and roots, all the lower branches. He would have a little piece of Damien with him in his eternal slumber. Even though he didn’t know the vampire that feather would be kept with him. Even though everything about him was telling him to be alone, there was something that would cling onto that feather; it belong to someone, it was Damien’s, and therefore, as long as he had it he wouldn’t be alone. Wouldn’t have Damien himself be better? No, no it wouldn’t. Damien seemed uninterested in him, and he wasn’t even going to try to get attention. It was funny...how he used to go out to look for people, to always want company; he would never get it then. But, now that he wanted to be alone it seemed he was plagued with it. But, was Damien and his little taste of blood unappreciated? No, Endymion thought he was being good in the fact he wasn’t cussing Damien out for trying to guess why he was upset. Or, even calling him love. Endymion used that word on several. But, now? He probably wouldn’t say that word again.

[Damien]

His breathing was somewhat hoarse as he laid there, eyes closed and legs and arms spread. Moments before he had gotten the only intimate touch from another vampire that he had gotten in what had to have been centuries. He felt his stomach curl with regret at stopping what would have probably turned out to be great. But now, even as he laid there, he knew that his chances were slim of ever seeing that man again, ever feeling any touch or hearing any word out of his mouth. Unaware that it was actually happening, Damien could hear everything around him. He could hear the soft steps of a man probably over 50 feet away from him. As he opened his eyes he tilted his head back slightly, straining his neck to look in the direction of the footsteps. Looking past all of the vegitation that lay between the two of them, Damien could see him clearly, not missing a single step and yet looking at the feather that Damien had left with him.

Why was it that he decided to leave a feather with him? Hell, he didn't even know why he did that. It might have been a sign telling Endymion that he wanted to see him again, even though he didn't voice it. It could have just been a sign of friendship. No, Damien didn't know what had come over him and what had caused him to give up one of his feathers. It was impulse. He wanted Endymion to have something of his own, and that was the only material item that he could give. Anything else that Endymion wanted from him he could have; Damien would give it willingly, no questions asked. But he wasn't too sure that Endymion would so willingly take what he offered.

A groan escaped his mouth as he sat up lazily, lifting a leg and putting his arm on it while looking at the ground. For a moment he wondered if he should confront the man that was walking away from him at that very moment. It only took a few seconds for him to decide that he would confront him again. Only this time, he wouldn't do anything. He would let Endymion do it. If he didn't want to do a thing, then so be it. Damien would leave, never to bother him again. Damien loved being forceful, but during the rare occasions like this, he would settle back and let things run as they were meant to run.

Closing his eyes, a veil of darkness surrounded him, covering him head to toe before traveling quickly through the brush. Undetectible, it slipped past Endymion, moving until it was a mere 15 feet in front of him. The veil appeared once more and in a quick moment Damien sat there, his wings no longer visible and his back to Endymion. He was sitting in the same position as before, only this time his head was down. On his back where his wings would normally be was the feint tattoo of two wings, one on each of his shoulder blades. Chills ran up and down his back as he felt Endymion approaching. With his eyes closed, Damien sat there, twirling a bloody feather in his hand as a trail of blood found its way down his bare back.

(( Sorry about the long wait. Hope this helps some. ))

[Endymion Wolfe]

Deeper and deeper Endymion walked, long forgetting the proper route back to the school. He didn’t want to see his students, he didn’t want to think of them. The school would find another teacher to fill his place and he would be forgotten. His eyes seemed to downcast on the ground, and the further he walked away the duller his senses were to Damian. Eventually he couldn’t sense the powerful being at all. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t trying. Did it really matter when it came down to it? Endymion wasn’t looking for a friend, a companion, or a lover. He was looking for a place to rest and to be alone. He’d end up leaving the school once he got all of his things in order.

It was now that he silently walked through the woods, going deeper and deeper until he felt a pang of power. Before the other appeared in front of him he felt him. His eyebrow’s raised as he lifted his head up, looking ahead of him as he saw that veil appear in front of him, the other sitting down on the ground in the same position. The most obvious difference was the lack of those lovely wings. He automatically noticed that blood trail and it caused him to take a few steps forward. He quickly caught himself, though, a hand at his side balling into a fist to keep his restraint under control. He felt a great urge to kneel down behind Damian and lick the blood from his back, a strong urge to run his fingers along the winged tattoo.

He took in a small breath, letting his eyes flutter closed until he stepped forward, kneeling himself behind Damian. He whispered the faintest of sounds as he put his arm around Damian, yet he didn’t touch him at all that arm going around only holding Damian’s feather in front of his face. “Come back to take this?” He started, his voice still rather cold and unemotional. “Well, it just so happens I want to keep it.” He jerked his arm from around Damian and once again tucked the feather behind his ear, that same hand going to Damian’s back, his fingers working and collected all of the blood before he stood to his feet. Lapping and sucking on his fingers he stepped around Damian and looked down to him. “You’re quite the lovely creature.” It was a shame his voice was so blank when he said that. “You’d make any little vampire slut proud to have such a creature to herself.” Endymion automatically assumed the male was straight; but Endymion was far from it.

A rather cruel little grin crossed his face as he kneeled down in front of Damian, his face holding a rather sour, sadistic look as he reached to Damian’s face, his fingertips running along Damian’s lips, tracing a line around them, pressing against the silken skin. “If I wasn’t looking to die I’d court you.” With that he took his lips away, only to lean forward for a final time to give the other a kiss to the lips, his tongue darting out to run across them before he stood to his feet, fingering the feather at his ear before he turned and looked to Damian over his shoulder. “A little piece of you will be with me for the rest of my eternity. You should feel honored.” Was his purr, more expressive than his voice had ever become yet around the elder vampire.