Two Shades of Darkness (Quark)

A figure fell toward the ground at neck-breaking speeds, a cloak whipping madly and engulfing the being's body as it fell through the stale atmosphere. This place was sullen, full of skittish creatures that one would not find anywhere else in the universe. It's not as if each species was alien, just mutated, in other words, genetically superior. The cloaked being fell through the canopy of a gargantuan forest, whose trees stood hundreds of feet tall, and some that had massive thorns extending viciously from their massive branches. The ancient trunks of these elder mutant trees were splattered with a black, luminous substance as the figure fell, and even pieces of flesh and clothing. The person falling could be identified as female, the pale skin of her face bruised, bloody, and gashed in several places. It was clear that she was unconscious, for her body was lifeless and limp. She fell through the thorny branches, her skin tearing with each sickening hit she took from the branches. Her expression was vacant, lacking any and all emotion--though an aura of hopelessness and childish innocence surrounded her.

It would be wise for one to come to the conslusion that looks can be decieving, for this young woman's past was filled with sin, yet so was her future.

She did not hit the ground, and instead was tangled in the branches, remaning silent, still, and lifeless. About an hour passed, and suddenly at that moment oxygen was gasped for, her eyes opening wide to take in the foreign scenery. Her nostrils flared to take in deeper the scents wandering through the air, only to find them--as always--unfamiliar. As her weak body struggled to hold itself up, she gazed beneath her, only to find herself hundreds of feet above the ground. Her name was Knives Eclipses, and she was the last and only living full-blooded heir to the throne of the Abyss. How could a person of her power and stature be so easily intimidated by such a meager height? Normally she would be able to summon the power and feline acrobatics to fall properly, but this was the hardest day of her life: the first day into the fifth month without feeding. Her eyes closed in somewhat of a wince as she heard the branches that were holding her crack, momentarily giving way and allowing her to fall toward the unseen forest floor. In reaction to the free fall, she released something equivalent to a desperate cry, only for her breath to be violently ripped from her lungs by the ground as she made contact.

Upon slamming into the ground she let out an unearthly scream, which echoed through the forest and rattled the trees. Her eyes were as wide as possible, washed over now as she regained the ability to breathe, and did so like a fish out of water. Knives choked dryly, her eyes watering up as the liquid which currently covered her eyes leaked down her cheeks and slid down her chin. Her back arches as she slammed her fists into the ground on both sides of her body, causing blood to rain down onto her face and nearly naked body. The only materials keeping her from being nude were the few shreds left of her top, which could hardly contain her bust, and the shredded remains of what once was her pants.

A slight rustle in a nearby bush caused her to fall silent. Anything alive contained blood, and blood was nourishment. The eyes of the currently berserk woman darted back and forth, attempting to find the source of the rustling noise, but failed miserably and caused her to growl in frustration. A struggle was taking place inside of this young woman, as both souls cried out for control, and blood. She couldn't concentrate, the lust for blood had infiltrated her mind and would remain the only thought and command her body would know until her lust was sated. Without any further contemplation the crazed woman dove into the bushes, missing the creature but catching it in a clawed fist as it attempted to take off in flight from the brush. She dug both her claws and fangs into the screaming, squawking bird, feeling its life quickly slip away. On a controlled scale, she would have stopped and thrown it aside, but her body had been deprived of its life-liquid for far too long. She sucked the life out of the creature, every last drop until it was bone dry, and she had no intention of letting it live, just as she would and did with the rest of the creatures unlucky enough to cross her path. She was on a rampage for blood, draining the life out of every last living organism she could get her hands on.

The last few drops of moxie drizzled from his can, plopping into his dried mouth. He stared up at the empty can for a few moments, upset that the drink didn’t last him longer. What did he expect? He’d been rationing that single can for about a week now.

He was hungry, but overall thirsty. That was his last can of soda that he had on him. He’d have to find a pool of water somewhere; there’d most likely be a mud puddle or something in this forest. Surprisingly, water was extremely common in this world, but he just couldn’t seem to find any. He’d most likely collect a large portion of it before leaving; selling it on the black market back home the moment he came across some. Until that time, though, he was stranded on this world.

His thoughts were cut short. His mind discarded his daydreams, focusing on his surroundings. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A haunting sound reached his ears, most definitely a cry of pain. It threw him a bit off guard; he hadn’t expected anyone else to be in this forest, much less this close. He’d heard cries of death before, and this screech wasn’t unlike one. However, there was something unnatural about it; something… otherworldly about it. Something inhuman, yet he could still tell it was a female voice.

He had no choice but to check out the source. His curiosity was something he couldn’t rightfully contain. He’d have to find the source before venturing anywhere else. He veered off course and into the thickets. Twiddling his machete in hand, he hacked his way through the few bamboo-like stalks in his way.

After a few minutes of traversing the overgrown brush, he could tell he was getting close. He could hear a commotion up ahead. It could have just been an animal of some kind, but he had to make sure. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he needed to know what made that noise.

Finally, he stopped. The creature was there, just beyond a veil of leaves and branches that blocked his vision. The source was several meters away, concealed behind a blanket of green.

It’s funny how one small action can drastically change the future. It happens many times in a person’s lifespan. One action, that one takes for granted, can change the way they perceive life all together. Styx made such a decision when he liberated himself from captivity. Another such decision, only much more subtle, was about to be made.

A swift swipe of his machete tore the veil of leaves and branches asunder. The vegetation fell to pieces, revealing the source of the commotion.

Hunched over on the ground, teeth sunk deeply into a small bird, was a half-naked woman. The first thing that hit Styx’s mind was the fact that the woman was half-naked. The next was the fact that she was damn sexy. Probably the last thing that came to mind was the fact that she had a raw, uncooked bird in her mouth. He just stood there, taking in her nakedness, baring the first toothy grin he’d bore in a full week. He would just take it in until the animal noticed him.

He was wrong, though. This was definitely a human woman, by appearances anyway, but she had apparently gone mad. She must have lost her mind, or maybe she was raised by monkeys or something, but she still looked very human. Styx took a double take. Wait, no… she wasn’t.

For some reason he didn’t notice immediately, but her features… they weren’t human at all. Her teeth, her canines, they were protruding out of her mouth, sunk into the small foul in her palms. Was she the result of bestiality? He felt sick lusting after her now.

Styx let out a half chuckle, one of bewilderment. What a pathetic, yet frightening creature. She definitely at least had intelligence at one point, baring what little clothing she still had, as well as a sword at her side. What drove her to such insanity? She looked much like how he pictured himself back in the Pandora facility, only in sexy naked woman form. That bird probably tasted better than the crap he had back there. Still, he couldn’t help but find the scene funny for some reason. His mouth was still caught in a crooked grin, even as the girl’s dead black eyes locked onto his.

'Whip!'

'Crunch!'

The sounds caused her to freeze, lifting her head from the medium-sized bird in her grasp and taking in a dry, grotesque-sounding breath. Her fangs shrunk back into her mouth the moment her eyes met Styx's. Another humanoid? In this world? She hadn't sensed anything--no, she hadn't bothered to try to sense anything when she had the chance, she had been far too weak and there were more important things she had to worry about at that moment in time.

Knives tilted her head to the side, her lips pouting slightly in confusion and curiosity. Her eyes remained blank and washed over, the bright crimson leaking from the sides of her mouth and drizzling down her chest. It was splattered across the ground, the trunks of trees, the grass, the fallen logs, and the rest of her body. She gazed at him, her eyes fluttering closed as her body jerked. When her eyes opened they were of normal size, with normal irises and the normal white area around them, and slitted pupils. Her eyebrows furrowed, the smell of blood almost too much for her to handle. Grimacing only slightly, she bore her fangs in pain, arching as her eyes flashed black once more, and her expression became void of emotion. Before Styx even expected it, Knives lunged at him, allowing her hands to hold down his arms and her legs to straddle his waist. She hissed at him, leaning down near his face and sniffing before extending her jaw, then freezing.

Her eyes faded back to their oxygenated-blood color, her face contorting in confusion yet again, "Why won't you run? Do you want to die?!?" She called out desperately. The strength that was formerly holding down his arms disappeared, her fingers curling into her palms and away from the sensation of his skin. If there was life on this planet, she didn't need any commotion right now, she needed to get control over herself, she wasn't in her right mind, couldn't he tell? Losing her grip on the soul once more, the strength returned, her claws digging at Styx's skin as she growled and spoke in feverish Abyssal, a serpentine language that was her native tongue. Her body shuddered under the pressure of keeping control, her eyes washed over and glaring deeply into his as she spoke venomous words of how he would die for bringing up such emotion in the body that she controlled.

This chick was crazy after all: Switching from speaking incomprehensible babbling to clear English, acting violent and innocent within moments of each other. However, her eyes were what caught his full attention. When they locked on his, he could tell she was hungry. He thought she might eat him if he’d let her. Then, when it seemed she was about to feast, they’d change from an opaque black to catlike slits. Something was definitely wrong with this chick. The way she moved and was upon him within mere seconds was much faster than he expected from a woman in her weak state. Still, her strength was no match for his, despite her grasp being stronger than the average human’s.

Styx yanked his arms against her hold, breaking free. He jumped away from the crazed girl, guard up and ready for anything she might try next. He was no longer grinning, but he hadn’t lost his carefree attitude. “Damn, you’re feisty for a starving animal.” He taunted, his lips curling upward in a subtle smirk. He mockingly poked one of his pointed teeth out from his mouth. “Maybe you’d like some fresh meat?” He taunted again, presenting his bare arm. “Come now, one bite.”

Well, she was a sad disgrace to humanity in her wounded state, if she was human at all. However, she’d at least serve for some much needed entertainment. He’d play around with her a little; see if he could awake that feeling of power he got from looking in her eyes. There was still some sanity in her, but the insane part was what intrigued him.

Her thoughts were becoming a bit more clear, as the current soul that was in control was stealing consciousness from the lesser, allowing her to comprehend him, but still not have enough control to actually use her voice to speak the same language. Her eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching as she gazed in his direction with a snarl and a few silent hisses. Inside of the young woman's head, a screaming match was taking place between the two souls, vicious words thrown here and there, as always, but the lesser was waiting for a weakness to surface, so that she could jump at it and take full control. No such sign of vulnerability surfaced, so she resorted to constantly screaming, screaming unto deaf ears, for the wicked woman in control payed no mind to her cries.

Knives was beginning to grow tired of this soul, damning both her Father AND her Grandfather and all the men of power in her family before her to the depths of the Abyss for her inheriting this burden. She swore over and over again, making sure to mark every time she could in her memory that she lost control. From that number, would be the days she would keep her Father alive, the tortures he would go through each day becoming more harsh as the days wasted away to night, to morning the day after. Her groans and screams went unheard by Styx, for it was internal, in the place that she could openly express her emotions without anyone seeing, just as it had always been.

A soft growl escaped the crazed demoness' lips as he broke free from her grasp, sitting there in a pushed-back straddling position, still on her knees. She tilted her head to the side at him, not really comprehending that he was indeed physically stronger than her. Rising to her feet, she stood up tall, her back straight and her clawed fingers bent inward and held at her sides. Her body arched as she took a step or two forward, and then suddenly lurched forward with clearly inhuman speed. She swiped at his face as soon as she was close enough, making a conscious effort to keep her balance.

Styx lurched to the side, just enough to barely avoid a scratch from the girl. The claw breezed past his nose, a mere millimeter away from cutting flesh. He watched as she slowed to a stop and turned around to face him again. At such abrupt breakneck speeds he was surprised that she didn’t end up injuring herself from the sheer g-force, of course that was an over exaggeration.

Styx twirled the machete in his hand. He wasn’t sure if he’d kill her yet or not, but he’d need some sort of defense against her either way. He peered from behind his sunglasses, laying his real eyes on her. It truly was a shame she’d lost half her mind. Maybe he’d subdue her and keep her as a pet or something, sick her on random individuals. That’d make for some good laughs.

He’d take the next attack. Just a minor flesh wound might teach her to back off a bit. Styx ducked low and lunged at her, machete pulled back. He swung at a very small fraction of his strength, aiming to cut a small gash in her hip.

A devilish smile crept upon her lips, her pearly whites glistening with extra saliva as she maddeningly swiped at the air. She turned on her heel, only to find that he was farther away from her now. Growling, she yelled serpentine curses at him as she sliced her claws through a nearby tree and caused it to fall behind her. She didn't seem phased by the large cloud of dust, or even the boom that sounded as it fell. Knives watched as he twirled his strange knife, her eyes following it as she fell in to some sort of trance. She ran her tongue across her lips, though she stopped, her eyes becoming wide as his machete sliced across her hip, causing obsidian to leak from the wound and soak her thigh within moments. She fell back a few steps, running her fingers across the wound before letting out a cry of anger and rushing forward, lashing out at him in a blind rage.

The animal lunged at him again, this time more fierce and determined than before. He couldn’t let her get a hold of him. The way she sliced that tree down on a whim meant that her claws were deathly sharp, and that she was deathly strong. She could very well kill him, and death by a mindless animal wasn’t the way he wanted to go. He’d have to fight back for real; forget mercy and forget her attractive body. Just to live, he’d have to either kill or paralyze her. She wasn’t going to hesitate doing the same. He was still smirking, despite the knowledge that this girl could potentially match him in terms of power.

The corpser in Styx’s leg charged as he retreated away from the frenzied demon. With each jump away from her, she jumped toward him. He’d swipe his machete through each tree in arm’s reach, attempting to knock them into her path. He’d made her angry, damn angry, and that gave her power. “Is this all you got?” Styx mumbled as he jumped back once more.

This time, as he landed, he fired the corpser off in his leg, propelling himself forward and underneath his pursuer. He sheathed his machete and pulled Panic from its holster, turning to face her as he slowed to a stop. The crazed woman instantly noticed his shifted movement and changed course to attack again. He flung his arm out, aimed for her legs, then pulled the trigger.

Though she missed yet again, there was no stopping. She was insanely fast at the moment, but she was striking blindly; she was angry, but she could obviously care less. As he swiped at the trees and knocked them into her path, she sliced through them, mumbling strings of curses under her breath as she did so, and waiting until he figured out that his current tactic was just about useless. Finally she got ahead of him, though she stumbled over the trunk she was pouncing over and fell a few steps forward. She had no time to react, so when some sort of contraption fired, she was its deer in the headlights.

The bullet struck her in the thigh, causing the leg itself to jerk as the muscles contracted around the metallic object now inside of her. She blinked, gazing up at the also metallic object in the man's hand. It was something she had never seen before. The burning sensation in her leg was soon forgotten as the blood was beginning to pool at her feet. A laugh emerged from her, softly, and then growing louder, then softening again. A vicious, vixen smile graced the posessed woman's lips as she bore her fangs, biting deeply into the skin of her wrist to allow the blood to flow from her.

Knives stopped for a moment, the stillness soon interrupted by the slight sway of her hips. The feeling was euphoric, the pain was something she hadn't felt in a while. The cold feeling of blood leaking from the wounds across her body, and pooling at her feet, sliding between her naked toes and sneaking in between each and every blade of grass below.

Like posessed serpents her blood slithered its way through the grass toward the unsuspecting Styx, who stood surprised and curious. The vampiress simply smiled at him, the features of her face softening as she tilted her head to the side and swayed her hips a bit more, humming her own soft melody. The blood which was sliding across the ground soon made its way to his feet, slithering up his metal leg and then up the other. The obsidian substance began to pop and hiss, mutating into what looked like some sort of liquid chain, which began to attack him in an attempt to bind him fully. The chains solidified as they wrapped about him, a substance which was unbreakable, like the will of the young woman who it belonged to.

Styx was shocked when the girl didn’t fall in pain. He expected her leg to at least be inoperable from that gunshot wound, but she was still using both legs. He was sure his gun was even loaded with armor piercing rounds. He holstered his weapon, deciding that he’d resort back to his machete. The next time she came at him he’d have to sever one of her limbs.

She began to mumble softly to herself. No, she wasn’t mumbling. It grew in volume, a purely satisfied laugh. She was laughing, sincerely laughing, even after being shot like that. No cry of pain, just laughter. It came as a slight surprise, though. It was the exact way Styx would have reacted if he were hit with some foreign, powerful attack. He would have laughed, much the same way this insane girl did: A laugh respecting an interesting attack, yet simultaneously a laugh of an undeniable victory.

The crazy woman proved her insanity yet again. Her jaw opened wide, bearing her devilish teeth, tearing into her wrist. It was a little weird, but the sight of self-inflicted injury wasn’t anything new. Blood was pretty much engulfing her body like a liquid fire, streaming onto the forest floor. Styx stared at the deranged lady, waiting for her next attack, but he didn’t expect it to be as close as it was.

He felt something grab his leg. His eyes shot down, legs suddenly covered with living chains. He pulled at his legs, shoving with all of his might. He managed to separate the links for a brief moment, but suddenly they pulled themselves back together by an unseen power. He struggled with all his strength, all of his inhuman strength. Every ounce of his strength, all 15 or so years of it, but it was as if these chains weren’t a part of the physical. They were not even reacting.

The links rapidly began tying up his body. Styx tried raising his arms so they wouldn’t be tied by the things, but he only managed to free one. He charged the corpser in his leg, glancing back at the nutcase most likely responsible for this impossible feat. She was smiling, intently enjoying his demise. How the hell wasn’t his strength working against mere chains?

Styx smiled back at her with a mocking air, jokingly saluting once with his free hand. He would have said something rather childishly witty at this moment, but nothing came to mind. His corpser fired with a sudden burst, launching himself off the forest floor and into the treetops above. He felt devilishly badass, as usual, though his victory was short lived. He felt an abrupt snag on his binds, yanking him back toward the ground. He whiplashed by the awkward movement, but thankfully he didn’t hurt his neck. He caught a glimpse of the reddish black chains leading a line into the crazy woman’s hands just before hitting the ground.

He should have known he wasn’t free from her yet, though now he probably never would be. The chains had finished binding his entire body, almost cocooning him due to his strong resistance. He could only move his head and nothing more. He watched helplessly as she moved toward him. He wouldn’t give her the pleasure of seeing him in pain, so his smile remained adamant. She wasn’t going to let him go, and she wasn’t going to let him live. She could kill him, dammit, and he was fine with that. He imagined his last battle a little more satisfying than this one, but why dispute against fate? If he’d die here, he’d die here. He’d only regret never destroying Pandora, never killing Edward, and never groping this chick before she took him down. Oh well, death waits for no man. He chuckled as she stood over him. “So you gunna introduce me to the reaper, sweet cheeks?” Styx chuckled.

An aura of childishness ravished the air about him, his smile securing the lightness in his demeanor as he simply laid there and smiled. To Knives, this was irritating, for she enjoyed feeding off of the fear she induced in people. This man had the nerve to put on the facade that he wasn't afraid of her, and deny her the pleasure of seeing him disturbingly aware that he was seconds away from death. The sudden realization that she, the foreign soul, had attained full control was enough to make her smile widen. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she bore her fangs at him playfully, a frisky growl replacing the laugh as his sarcastic gesture distracted her. When the words left his lips she immediately frowned, understanding since she had gained complete control of the lesser soul, and was able to comprehend and use the common language used by this mortal.

"Ahh..." She cooed softly, "So that is what you want?" Her voice was a soft purr, alluring and sultry as she spoke, "Death? ...But that is a far too common gift."

Slowly she pulled the chains taut, and then proceeded to pull him toward her without any sort of struggle. With a bit of a jerk, she pulled him tightly against her, the chains that were wrapped securely around her hand and wrist being absorbed into her skin. This allowed both of her hands to be able to move freely, with which she spread out her fingers and brought her fingertips across the cold sweat upon his temple. Momentarily she tilted her head to the side once more, lowering her face to the crook of his neck and taking in his musky scent.

"I can give you so much more..." She whispered against the skin of his neck, running her lips over the supple flesh, and then her fangs.

The chains retained their deathlock on Styx, not loosening the slightest bit as his skin became more and more alluring to the demoness. Her fangs enlarged in both length and width and her jaw extended, her fangs digging deeply into the skin of his neck, piercing through whatever layers of muscle there was. The sweet, oxygenated crimson flowed into her mouth, her eyes closing as she began to relax and drink deeply of him. The vampiric young woman lowered him to the ground slowly, feeling the muscles beneath his skin tighten against her own. She heard his breathing stutter, and swore that she heard a groan of some sort escape his lips as the foreign pain hit him.

She couldn't help but allow the sides of her mouth to curve upwards in a vixen smirk as he squirmed in his restraints, but could do nothing but choke on his words as waves of bliss began to wash over him. The effect of her bite was kicking in, and her smile widened as she heard the slight, soft pauses and changes in his breathing and the soft grunts and heavy sighs that followed.

Styx had never felt more pain than he was feeling at that moment. He’d been tortured before, every single nerve strained to test his durability, but this pain was something far greater. He was dying. He may have had a strong body, but his spirit was weak. Now both were fading and his soul was crying out in pain. He didn’t want to show his killer any weakness, but he wasn’t aware if he was screaming or if he was laughing. Screw his pride, this was damn painful.

His blood was rapidly leaving his body, spilling into the insane woman’s mouth. This was impossible for a normal human. She was drinking his blood, all of it, like a chupacabra or a vampire. Such creatures didn’t exist, never have existed, but something was happening to him that he couldn’t comprehend, much less focus on through all the pain. He would die today, that he was sure of. What would happen to him after death was a mystery. Was there a heaven and hell? He had the feeling he was about to find out.

His heart began to slow as his mind began to dim. The pain was excruciating, but now he couldn’t even find the strength to moan. The trees above him were blurry and out of focus, but the portion of the girl’s face he could see from this angle was crystal clear. She was enjoying his blood and his pain immensely. He now knew what that bird must have felt like. He wished he had the strength to tell her to choke on it or something, maybe bite her back, even just spit in her hair, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do so. All he could do was force a cocky smile, teeth bared with no fear. His eyes fell under their own weight as life began to leave him.

The moment his lids closed, they snapped open again. Wow, holy f***. That felt damn good, what was that? Styx’s eyes were open; everything was in focus for a split second, blurring back momentarily. He wasn’t sure what happened, but he swore this girl was a necrophiliac or something. The pain was completely gone. In fact, he’d never felt better. He had a feeling that this wasn’t a part of normal death, if it were he wouldn’t have taken such pleasure in killing. He still felt like he was on the verge of death, but it was no longer a painful thing. Hell if death felt this good, he should have killed himself a long time ago.

The color was draining out of Styx's face as the blood left his body, and as the blood was absorbed by Knives, she grew stronger. Her mind functioned properly, her control became more secure, and she became relaxed. The bonds restraining Styx loosened, since he had no energy and his muscles had no motivation to move. When she moved from his neck her fangs immediately shrunk, and bright crimson was leaking from the sides of her mouth.

"Mmph..." A soft noise of strain escaped her lips, for she discovered that her jaw had cramped and was stiff. She flexed her jaw and her fingers simultaneously as the bonds gave way, and she then lowered her ear to his chest to hear his heart screaming and convulsing for its life-liquid. Uncontrollable shivers racked his body, and his now milk-white skin was cold, like that of a corpse that had been left stationary for a day or two. She hovered over him for a few moments, watching the glassy look in his eyes come, and the painful gaze which was set upon her. Knives had seen this look plenty of times before. It was the look of a dying man, of someone who didn't want to, and wasn't ready to die.

Perhaps...she needed a companion. A companion wasn't a bad idea, for she hadn't had one in millenia--she had killed him. Tilting her head to the side, she studied the strange mortal for the first time, finding that he was oddly dressed, scarred, clearly not in his right mind, and had a metal leg with some sort of contraption built into it. Though he was not traditionally "normal," she found that she could deal with it. He seemed deserving enough, mainly because of the fact that he could irritate her, and seriously make her angry, which was something not many people had been able to do.

Gazing down at him fondly, she leaned close to him, allowing her voice to become soft and as friendly as she could muster as she whispered to him, knowing that his dying body was sensitive to anything and everything. "You are on the verge of death, and I can see how strong and reluctant your body is to die..." She trailed a finger across his jaw, "I can give you eternal life and powers you could only dream of, or I can leave you here and let you die. It's your choice." After a moment passed Knives drew up her wrist, sinking her fangs into the skin and allowing the obsidian to flow from the wounds. She held her wrist above him, the blood dripping in small drops into his mouth; His jaw was slack and his lips were partially open. "Drink of me, and you will live..." She murmured softly, lowering her wrist down to his mouth for him to drink of if he chose life, and to refuse, if death was indeed what he wanted.

Styx stared the woman in the eye, wondering what her game was. Why would she let him live? Even so, why would she offer him promises of such amazing power? She no longer seemed to be as crazy as she was moments ago; in fact she appeared to be completely lucid. She drank blood much like the vampires of legend, but now she was offering that he do the same. Drink of her and he’d live. Not only just live a mortal life, but eternal life. Styx the Immortal definitely sounded pleasing. If it meant that he’d live, that he’d be even stronger than before, then hell yes he accepted.

Styx grabbed the arm extended to him, digging his finger nails in deep. He pulled her closer to his face, smile bared wide with sharpened teeth. He was very weak in this state, but he now had enough strength to lift her if he wanted to. He shoved himself off the ground, simultaneously spinning with the girl in his arms. In the same motion, he fell with her, reversing their position, lying atop of her. He took pleasure in her surprised expression just before he bit deeply into her neck, sinking in every tooth he could manage. His body writhed with ecstasy as he did what came naturally. He sucked deep and hard, pulling the life force from her body. Again, he felt it, that pleasurable feeling from before. It felt so good, it tasted so good, and he had no intention of letting go. While she showed him mercy, he wasn’t so sure he’d do the same for her. He could feel himself getting stronger by the second.

Suddenly, his mind throbbed with a heavy thud. His eyes began to sting and then his jaw began to hurt. He pulled back from her, jumping to his feet. Blood poured both from his mouth and from her neck. Suddenly everything began spinning. He staggered backward, head tilted toward the sky. The trees above him were no longer blurry, but instead came in clearer than ever. He could count the leaves if his entire body wasn’t throbbing with immense pain. Clawing at his scalp, he let out a horrific shout, a mixture of screaming and laughter, caught in the twilight of pain and pleasure. He felt weak, yet so powerful. He was dead, but never had felt more alive. The long-healed stitches on his arms opened again, drizzling dark red blood down his body. Blood even began to swell up in his eyes.

His teeth were thumping with a powerful ache. He flung himself backward, falling hard on the floor. His teeth were growing, they were sharpening themselves. His eyes were also changing, burning as if they were dipped in boiling oil. His head exploded in his tortured state and he suddenly became aware that he was screaming. Everything within him felt like it was dying, yet at the same time was living like never before.

Suddenly everything was black. He felt nothing, saw nothing, he was nothing. His sight was completely black, save for one thing: The image of an hour glass, near empty, the sand draining fast; the image of his life coming to an end. It was just a figment of his imagination, but he could see the hour glass turning on its head, starting anew. However, the sand was no longer moving. He was immortal; the sand would no longer fall on its own.

His eyes opened to the trees once again. He was alive, very much alive, and the one responsible was standing above him. She was no longer just a crazy loon raised by monkeys, she was responsible for everything he was feeling right now. His power had doubled, maybe tripled, and he liked it. However, she was also the one who killed him. She was the only person ever to overpower him; she had his life in her hands and could have crushed him without a second thought. That is why he found her unbelievably attractive.

Gasps and chokes escaped the young woman's lips as she was fed upon, her body arching against the ground as she struggled to shove him off. She was slowly losing control, and the lesser soul was gaining power quickly. The bite had triggered a panic response, which allowed Knives to snatch back her consciousness. As Styx went through his transformation, she laid on her side, her eyes stinging as they always did when she gained control over her body. She ended up rolling over, pulling herself to her feet and standing over the screaming, convulsing, and bucking man. Once his body became limp, and he went into the short state of shock and realization, she inched closer.

This was her first conscious look at this man. While the wicked demoness which shared her body had her fun, Knives was too busy trying to gain back control; She was constantly shoved into feverish states of half-conscious fits, which caused her to have to start her attempt to break the dark soul's control over her body. He was handsome, though the wicked teeth which lined his jaws were disturbingly intimidating. She could still feel the ripping sensation of his jaws against her throat, and the constant sucking which followed. The wound was still taking time to heal, for the bite mark was deep and the muscles below were deprived of blood. His hair was unkempt, but surprisingly neat-looking, as if he had styled it with some sort of product. She was tempted to reach out and touch it, but refrained as he had momentarily opened his eyes.

When his eyes came to rest upon her, she sank down to her knees on the mossy forest floor, and then crossed her feet, which were then followed by her legs. As she sat cross-legged at his side, she looked him over, again finding him oddly dressed, with strange contraptions holstered on his hips, and a metal leg. Tilting her head to the side, she allowed her eyes to graze over the features of his head, again looking at his hair, then carefully tracing over his face, and then down to his body. She didn't seem to notice that she was hardly dressed or that her hair was frizzy with knotted strands and dried blood here and there, but right now she knew that all this man would want was an explanation.

"Whether or not you choose to believe in what you human-born mortals call 'fictional creatures,' such as Vampires, Demons, Elves, and other such things, I advise that you take the time to realize that humans are limited to social constructs and universal definitions. Social constructs create barriers around a reality that is made up of the definitions agreed on by a majority of people." She released a soft sigh and raised her head, then gazed down at him with a look of intent curiosity, "I hope you realize by now that you don't feel the same as you did before, and in saying this I am informing you that you are now indeed, a Vampire." Her expression had softened, and her oxygenated blood-red eyes were focused on his, which were unchanged regardless of his transformation. They were reminiscent of her Father's eyes, but she quickly shook this notion off and continued on. "You are now immortal. You cannot die the way a normal human would die, no natural causes, and age and disease are unable to touch you."

"There are some guidelines that I suggest you follow, but if you don't then you will learn the hard way and suffer the consequences that come along with mistreating these powers of yours. Since you are a fledgling at this point in time, your thirst will be more intense than it ever will be later on in your life." A slight smirk curved the sides of her mouth upward, her pearly white incisors gleaming in the moonlight from between her slightly parted lips. "If you wish, I can teach you how to feed and not kill, for that is the smart way to control the amount of blood you take in, while not causing any trouble for yourself. I can tell you this from experience...I myself learned the hard way."

"I am holding myself responsible for you, and if you need anything, shelter, money, food, anything, I will be here if you need it." She could feel him growing impatient because of all her talking, but she could tell that he was listening intently. He was interested, partially because he didn't know anything about what he was, and another part was because she had nearly killed him, so he knew he could trust her at least somewhat.

Knives watched as he attempted to sit up, and immediately set her hand down on his chest and held him there for a moment. "I suggest that you lie and rest for a bit, new muscles, blood, and bone structures tend to be achy when you first use them. I'd rather spare you the pain I had to go through when I was turned."

Styx listened intently to every word this girl had to say. He was amazed at how different she was from earlier. She still held that certain feeling of malice, but she appeared to be completely sane. Still, regardless of her lucidity, Styx found it ludicrous that he was now a vampire. Such stories weren’t even told anymore where he came from, no one had much use for them. Still, the tale of Dracula was always an interesting one, though it never was one of his favorites.

Everything this woman claimed was rather overwhelming, but he had just experienced so much in the past few minutes that anything she said would have him convinced is the truth. As far as he was concerned, everything he thought to be mere farce was now clear as day reality.

Well, no use in lying around all day. He had the feeling he’d need to stick around with this chick a little while to figure this stuff out completely. The idea of depending on yet another person had him a little disappointed. He actually didn’t mind the idea of sticking with her for a while, but he still felt inferior to her. He hated having to put up with Edward, but at least this time his assistance was attractive.

Styx began to sit up, but the woman’s hand graced his chest, holding him in place. “I suggest that you lie and rest for a bit, new muscles, blood, and bone structures tend to be achy when you first use them. I'd rather spare you the pain I had to go through when I was turned.”

Did she honestly think he was going to take some advice for mere comfort? Styx looked her square in the eye, mouth curled upward in a coy grin. He stood to his feet, face unchanging, eyes unblinking, as she did the same, hand still on his chest. He looked down at her from his taller height. “I’d much rather stand.” He decided.

As soon as he spoke, he realized he probably should have remained on the ground. No going back now, he’d just look like a fool. He remained standing and attempted to hide his discomfort. It wasn’t too bad, though. He’d felt worse back during his mutations. It wasn’t unlike after a muscle therapy test. It’d pass in time.

Styx felt the moment getting awkward by the moment. Her hand remained on his chest, insisting he sit. She was still half-naked, he was still in pain, and they were both still coated in fresh blood. He let out a half chuckle to break the silence, “What’s your name?”

When Styx stood she could feel the muscles in his chest tighten, a teasing, knowing half-smirk curling up the sides of her lips as she pressed against his chest a bit harder, trying to ease him back down but having no real motivation at the moment to do so. Already she seemed to feel fond of him, perhaps because it was the fact that her blood was running through his veins now, and that he was now a part of her life that she couldn't just drop and destroy. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she allowed her hand to lift slightly from his chest, only to feel his body lean forward toward her hand. He was using her hand for support, as to not fall forward. His muscles were still not used to gravity, for it was their first time battling it since being reborn.

A soft laugh escaped her lips as she rested her hand back firmly against his chest, sliding her bare foot behind his ankle and kicking at his achilles tendon. This caused his normal leg to buckle, and after watching him struggle to keep his balance, she pinched the back of his knee, causing him to fall to his knees which was a position keeping him vulnerable enough to push him down onto his back.

"Knives...Knives Eclipses."

Styx felt a little foolish being so easily overpowered by this woman in his state. Still, her forceful nature was extremely compelling. She hadn’t had quite the chance to have a reason to fear him yet, but even so the idea that he had no effect on her courage was thrilling. Even Edward feared him from time to time, and that guy didn’t get scared that often.

Styx looked up at Knives from his vulnerable position, his smile matching hers. Styx slowly leaned himself to the , hands propped behind his head. If he didn’t have the strength to stand, he wasn’t going to settle for the submissive position she’d placed him in. “Knives, eh? Is that some kind of nickname, or did your father have an obsession with weaponry.”

Spontaneous emotions and thoughts were shot from his aura, and Knives could tell that he was excited for some reason or another. Tilting her head to the side, she allowed her hand to slide from his chest once she found that he had become settled and wasn't planning on moving anywhere. Usually mortals would be afraid of her, especially since the color of her eyes, as well as her coloring, body structure, and dress wasn't common in many of the human realms. This realm, however, seemed to be vacant besides animals. The more she thought about everything, the more lost in her thoughts she got, and the more lost she became, the more curiosity formed as to how he managed to travel to this world as well.

"It was my mother who chose the name before I was born. She didn't exactly know whether I was to be a boy or a girl, but she had a feeling it was going to be a girl, and she told my mentor what my name would be." She shook off the mentioning of her Father and gazed down at him in silence.

"And you? What am I supposed to call you?"

Styx’s confident expression didn’t change, though he felt slightly caught off guard that she actually responded to his sarcastic remark. “Well you may call me Styx, Knives. It’s what I’ve been calling myself for quite some time now.” Damn he felt weird lying down like this, but he still couldn’t properly move. It was as if walking for the first time, and with an added mechanical leg it wasn’t any better.

Wait, mechanical leg. Styx suddenly sat up, slightly alarmed. He stared at his artificial limb, mouth agape. Yes, he still had it, but it was no longer attached to him. Instead, it was resting several feet away. In place of it was a brand new leg, just as if he’d never lost it.

“No…” Styx hissed through his teeth, completely forgetting Knives’ presence. “No!” He shouted. He scrambled forward, grasping his mechanical leg in both hands, frantically examining its every piece. “How, HOW?” He was furious, the first time he could ever remember being this angry. There’s no way, he wouldn’t—couldn’t have healed like that!

It had to have been his vampirism. Hell, he knew there had to be a downside. His body must have rapidly regenerated; the combined effects of his mutations and his newly found powers must have forced his body to heal at an amazing rate. There was no way he could go on like this. He needed that leg, he had to have it for the next time he saw that man’s face. He needed to keep this memory fresh; he wanted that man to remember him the moment he laid his eyes on him, just before he would breathe his last breath. He had to have that leg back.

He suddenly found himself on his feet, staring Knives in the eye. “Eclipses, tell me. Please tell me there’s a way to keep a portion of my body to regenerate like this.” He found the fact that he was almost begging shocking the moment the words left his mouth. So much for his pride, once again, but he didn’t care at the moment anyway. He couldn’t remain like this, not until Pandora was crushed. It was more than just a handicap; it was a part of him: The foot that would crush his personal devils. It wasn’t an obsession or a requirement, it was merely art that needed to be finished.