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Part One

Part Two

Part Three

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His thoughts filled with violence as the frenzy of bloodlust took hold of the Eternal and, when he bared his teeth at the Fey, Gairynzvl understood clearly just what purpose his glinting fangs served.  Rather than back away in fear, however; he flexed his powerful wings with equal aggression and delved deeper, listening to the thoughts that filled Jean’s mind even as he rushed forward and grasped the Fey by his neck.  Glaring back at the Eternal with every measure of composure he could manage, Gairynzvl took Jean by both arms with an iron-like clasp and beat his wings forcefully.  Rising up from the ground at a daunting rate of speed was unexpected enough to redirect his attention and Jean paused to look down at the receding rooftop with an evident combination of astonishment and respect for the Fey’s countermove.

“Kill me and you may not live to regret it.”  Gairynzvl hissed viperously as they ascended, continuing hastily before his quick-witted adversary had time to interject some acerbic reply.  “But before you rip my throat out, will you allow me to pose one final question?”   Jean’s black eyes locked with lavender-ice and he growled ferociously in return.

“It’s not like I have a lot of choice.”  The Fey smiled with vexing charm, halting their upward climb and turning them in a slow circle before beginning to descend.  Jean could not silence himself.

“If you wanted to dance, I could have asked the orchestra to play some Strauss.”  Thirty feet from the rooftop, Gairynzvl inclined his head with exaggerated courtesy and let go of Jean’s arms.  He plummeted to the ground amid the fluttering black of his coat, looking every bit the dark raven he was, and landed with surprising agility, neither falling nor staggering.  Regaining his orientation, he glared viciously upward at the descending Fey, the red mists rushing over him, but Jean could not stop himself from laughing.  Alighting several feet from the unpredictable Eternal, Gairynzvl watched his amusement cautiously, probing further into his thoughts in spite of polite decorum.

“If your existence here is as abhorrent to you as you claim, what have you to lose? The Light of Jyndari may not be fatal to you.”  Recovering from his atypical display of mirth, Jean drew a deep breath and stalked closer.

“Light is light and I don’t fancy incinerating myself on a whim.”  Gairynzvl shook his head.

“That is like saying blood is blood, but even now I can hear you debating whether or not my blood will satisfy you.”  The revelation that he could read his thoughts rekindled the flame of his anger, causing the Eternal to move within inches of the brazen Fey with another growl.

“And just how might you know what I am debating?”

“We all have our gifts.”

“You may not want to read my mind.  It just might make me angry.”  Gairynzvl smirked with understanding; for the moment they enjoyed a truce and it was all he required.

“I do not know much about your realm, but you do.  You know enough, at least, to wonder if my blood will satisfy you as a human’s might, which is vastly different than pigs blood or that of the wolf.  I only suggest that Light is no different.  Your body knows only the light of your realm; the Light of Jyndari is an unrecognized source of energy and may not be lethal.”  Jean could not dispute the Fey’s logic, but sneered all the same.

“Yet if it is, I will not live long enough to say I told you so.”

“As I am not from this place, my blood may be equally as deadly; yet it is a risk you seem eager to take.”  Considering the Fey’s argument pensively, his silence provided Gairynzvl a final opportunity, not only to save his own life, but to perhaps change the Eternals as well.

“If you are able to cross and stand beneath the radiance of our Light, will it not give you what you seek most; to breathe life and liberty without the compulsion for violence that you claim to detest?  To gain some measure of purpose through the freedom of choice to live as you wish, rather than as you are forced?”  The intensity of Jean’s glare pierced the Fey. He was certain he was right, but everything he knew was violence.  How would he change that?  It was a question he did not need to ask.

“I once lived a life of violence much as you do, but the Light of Jyndari changed me, allowed me to Prevail over the darkness and find a purpose for my life.  It can do the same for you.”

“Is having a purpose so important?”

“You seem to believe so.”  Jeans glare darkened.

“I asked you not to do that.”  Once again, the Fey smiled with annoying charisma.  Turning to gesture at the slowly undulating darkness of the portal, he questioned without speaking; yet Jean knew precisely what he was not saying.  Looking round him at the garish glamour of the Rhineland and his, as yet, unconscious sometimes-friend, he took a hesitant step forward.  If the Fey was right, then what he offered was as irresistible to the Eternal as blood itself, but the realization sent a myriad other questions tumbling through his mind. What would he do in this new realm and what would he consume if their blood was poisonous?

Gairynzvl reached outward toward the portal and spoke the dark words of Dlalth required to reverse its path, turning back to gaze at Jean with a wry smile even as he indicated that he should step through its dark surface.

“All very good questions, but you have time to debate them later.”  Stopping beside the Fey, the dark raven reached out and laid his hand on his throat.

“If I have time to debate them, I may also have time for lunch.”

The portal opened, darkness pulling on darkness and Jean could not keep his feet from moving forward into the spiraling blackness.  Letting go of the Fey, he stepped inward, hesitation and uncertainty filling every fiber of his being, but there was no turning back and what did he have, after all, to turn back for?  The slurking pitch was utterly disorientating, but, in spite of not knowing which way was up or back, he took another step and felt the unexpected plush of undergrowth beneath his boots.

Light poured into the portal with terrifying velocity and the Eternal, born to death and darkness, stepped out into a brilliant glimmering of sunlight, which streamed through emeraldine branches.  Warmth surrounded him for the first time in his life and the unexpected sensation made him squeeze his eyes closed in horror, certain it was the beginning of the end for him, but nothing happened.  Birdsong filled the air more sweet than any concerto or symphony he had ever heard and the blush of the Light of Jyndari made him sigh profoundly.  The rush of red mists that ever swirled in the depths of his being began to dissipate and the gnawing hunger he had always known was inexplicably quelled.  Opening his eyes, he stared upward at the green canopy of a forest so beautiful he could not combat the tears that sprang from somewhere deep within him.  Turning, he watched Gairynzvl step out of the portal, an insolent smirk upon his face, but the rush of anger he had always fought no longer compelled him to violence.  Still, he had not changed all that much.

“You don’t live in these trees do you?”  Gairynzvl pretended to laugh with marked sarcasm and pointed into the distance where the Eternal, whose vision remained as remarkable as ever, could see a village with clusters of quaint cottages and buildings nestled into the woodland.

“Lunch is at the tavern.”

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~A Collaboration by Morgan and Richard M. Ankers. Richard’s contributions are highlighted for you in italics to set his writing apart from my own.  We hope you will enjoyed this collaboration and debut of Character Interactions.

If you find the notion intriguing and would like to set your own characters in some new and entirely different situation, drop me a line or a comment to discuss the possibilities 🙂

 

 

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Part One

Part Two

“Purpose! I have no purpose, unless it is killing time in awaiting the end? Being alone?

            “You’ll always have me,” whimpered the man on the floor. “Always.” Jean silenced him with a kick.

            “Must you feel the need to demonstrate your superiority in such ways?” Gairynzvl had never once looked away, his stare continuing to break down any barriers between the two.

            Jean sighed, as the Fey shook his imposing wings and cracked his neck.

            “All I wish for is peace and quiet. Unfortunately, violence is often the only way to secure it. Especially where Sir Walter Merryweather is concerned,” Jean added.

            Gairynzvl glanced at the comatose form on the rooftop, then back to Jean. He appraised the brooding form before him and struck upon a revelation. “You do not desire death; you feel it imposed upon you.”

            “Perhaps.”

            “And you brood in the darkness because you cannot smile in the light. I do not know your kind completely, not yet, but I sense this true.”

            “You see much, winged one.”

            “I prefer Gairynzvl.”

            “We all prefer something.”

            Gairynzvl took a long, deep breath, eyes narrowing, and sniffed. “If light is all you wish for, then it is a gift I may bestow.”

            “What?”           

            “I am Fey, and as such may open portals to worlds other than your own, as you have borne witness to. I can give you light, Jean. And I will if you wish it.”

            “I could not stand before it.”

            “Not all light is the same.”

            The raven of a man staggered backwards. If he had sought to impose himself upon the Fey in a brash display of strength, his actions dismissed that persona. Gairynzvl had offered him the one thing that nobody else ever had or could. Yet Jean remained Eternal, descended of the vampires of old, and the promise of that which he imagined a lie tore at him. The Eternal grew troubled, the red mists falling, clouding his vision, his judgment, his sanity.

            Gairynzvl readied himself.

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~A Collaboration by Morgan and Richard M. Ankers. Richard’s contributions are highlighted for you in italics to set his writing apart from my own.  We hope you will enjoy this collaboration and debut of Character Interactions.  Be sure to stop back for the finale tomorrow 🙂

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Part One

Gairynzvl did not need to be empathic to understand the man facing him was dangerous and he did not need to delve telepathically to know that one wrong word or movement on his part and he could be facing oblivion.  It was not a prospect he fancied, so when his lavender-ice stare met the brooding black glare of the stranger’s he lowered his expansive wings in an instinctual indication of deference.  The man bore no weapon, but upon closer examination, he realized the dark raven needed none.  Glinting from his sardonic grin, twin fangs as foreboding as any wolves warned the Fey of his lethal capacity; thus he stood silently to choose his words wisely before speaking.

“It was not my purpose to cross to wherever this is,” he offered as diplomatically as he might contrive to sound, glancing round him with undeniable curiosity; “any more than it is my intention to interrupt you.”

            “It would only have been an interruption if he’d got away.”

            Gairynzvl grinned at that, a swift gesture that drew a matching response. “My name is Gairynzvl,” said the Fey offering his hand. “Might I ask where I am?”

            “Jean,” replied the man in black, dropping his victim to the graveled rooftop. “And I often ask myself that very same thing.”

            The brooding fellow stalked forward, threw his coattails to one side and took the Fey’s hand. Their handshake was swift, but genuine.

            The place was not unpleasant, but neither did it overly appeal. Gairynzvl’s eyes swept the night allowing Jean the freedom to appraise him. Though his wings were distinctly peculiar, his powerful physique suggested, if put to it, he would be a formidable opponent.

            “Why does the water run red?” the Fey inquired, his feathers rustling in the breeze.

            “Because it’s blood.”

            “Blood, you say. Hm, this is indeed a strange and wonderful place.”

            “If by strange and wonderful, you mean bordering on dead, then yes.”

            “First impressions would suggest this a world not bordering on death but of death, albeit a luxurious one.”

            “You should never read too much into first impressions, otherwise I’d be offering you bird seed.”

            Gairynzvl did not rise to the bait; Jean’s smirk suggested he was impressed.

            The two stood together in silent contemplation, gazing out across the Rhineland as though friends for centuries. But Jean could no more hide his bitterness towards life from Gairynzvl than he could the moon from the sky; such were the Fey’s gifts. Hence, the advantage lay with the newcomer.

Twisting round to gaze at the man who lay unconscious where Jean had dropped him, the Fey could not silence the query that escaped him in a markedly sarcastic tone.

“Friend of yours?”

“On occasion.”  Jean’s terse reply warned him to go no further down that path.  Scoffing with a grin, Gairynzvl returned the banter of the raven glaring at him speculatively.

“Then, although I may not be here long, I shall endeavor to not make you my friend.”

“That would be wise.” The blunt honesty of his deprecating remark mirrored the flood of anger and resentment that rushed from Jean so forcefully the insightful Fey could scarce defend himself from it.  The sensation was one the former Legionnaire was all too familiar with and he frowned upon recognizing the other’s pain, but knew better than to remark on it unless he wished to learn, first hand, just what function his fangs performed.

“Where are you going?”

“The Uunglarda.”  Jean shook his head.

“Never heard of it. Beyond the borders of New Europa, is it?”  Gairynzvl shook his head, gesturing at the darkness from which he had stepped and Jean noticed, for the first time, how in that spot the shadows wavered and warped like the despoiled waters of the Danube below.

“Beyond this realm, although it, too, is a place of darkness and death, unlike my own realm of Light, life and purpose.”  Jean sneered.

“Something some of us will never know.”  Gairynzvl’s lavender-ice stare captured Jean’s, piercing him to his core.

“Your lifeforce is certainly unusual, but it is as potent as my own and I suspect your purpose is no different.”

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~A Collaboration by Morgan and Richard M. Ankers. Richard’s contributions are highlighted for you in italics to set his writing apart from my own.  We hope you will enjoy this collaboration and debut of Character Interactions.  Be sure to stop back / watch for upcoming installments.

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