Where We Fall 10/14 (Legacy of Kain, Janos Audron/Vorador, NC17)

[emerald_embers]

For all his initial grumblings, Vorador took to magic like a fish to water, picking up most of the basics easily even if he was proving, if not quite to the same degree as Jayne once had, to struggle with teleportation. Regardless of that difficulty his position as the first of his kind meant he was also the first of them, once he'd learnt to handle magic properly, to learn a skill unique to them; and that by accident. Janos had been a little alarmed during a sparring session to hear Vorador growl an expletive before following it up with something even more obscene as Janos knelt to retrieve Vorador's sword from where it had clattered beneath a table. And as alarmed as he had been, Vorador was even more alarmed to find that he'd said the words without moving his lips.

It took some practise to master, but whatever this ability was, it could travel far further than words; and after Vorador mockingly referred to it as whispering despite it often being louder and more potent than speech the nickname stuck. All the turned children picked up Whispering with ease, and Janos seemed to have an unexpected talent for it, but generally speaking it seemed to be a struggle for the rest of his kind; something for the mades to hold as their own.



Of the guardians, three had yet to be turned; Annabelle, the conflict guardian, given she had shown signs of being simple despite her position as a Pillar guardian and her immaturity as a result making most uncomfortable with turning her until she felt as mature as the others had been when turned. Mortanius and Moebius too had yet to be turned, Mortanius because it had taken so damn long to find him and the elders wanted him educated in full before being turned, and Moebius simply because he was the third time streamer; his vampire predecessor having killed himself, and the made having... well, it had been called an accident, but Janos suspected the boy had walked outside in broad daylight fully aware of what he was doing.

Everyone had taken a liking to Mortanius. The boy was smart, and straightforward, did not enjoy hiding his stories in riddles as so many of the other children did, even if they did treat it as a game amongst themselves. Strange to see humans, mades and vampires alongside each other, although Moebius did show obvious signs of anxiety with regards to being surrounded by those who would normally prey on his kind. Still, it was unavoidable that the situation would be imperfect, and those who looked after the guardians were handling the finer details as best as Janos could tell.

Moebius provoked... unsettled feelings. Mortanius might be skilled in the darker, more morbid arts, but Moebius' growing up without shaking his feelings of anxiety despite months, years of going without being attacked, did seem to upset the balance a little.

Even Samael finally had something to say, towards the balance guardian's fifteenth birthday and it being time for his turning. "Does something about Moebius strike you as unusual?"

"The boy is a time streamer. I wouldn't will that on anyone."

"Even so," Samael replied, sounding thoughtful. "Earlier I thought I heard him talking outside the temple but he insisted he hadn't spoken. You will tell me of any new developments, won't you?"

"Certainly."

"I hope he doesn't follow in his predecessor's footsteps," Samael murmured, before touching the wall, finding his bearings quickly. "I'll ask the same of Mortanius. They seem to get along despite the age difference."



Janos did not envy those who had to teach the humans of their religion; with God fallen silent it was not a simple matter of preparing children for their one conversation with God and leaving them thereafter to attend Mass and ask the priests if a crisis of faith did happen. Worse was trying to stop the curse from sounding like a curse - the need to hunt for blood meant there was an unavoidable taint, but trying to explain the Wheel without making immortality seem equally tainted was a struggle.

It was more peculiar to see the variety of children summoned by the Pillars; gender seemed to play no part in the choice, nor the sort of family a child was born into or where they were born. There was a child here, the mentalist, if he recalled correctly, brought all the way from Coorhagen; seeking her out had been a nightmare given her parents had tried to hide her up in the mountains despite not being well equipped for the cold. Had they not found the family swiftly enough the girl might have died of hypothermia before even becoming fully aware of her ability. The Pillars rendered one stronger than usual, but not immortal.

He did not like how they had to take the children by force - wished there was another way, something that would traumatise them less. Given the choice he would have spoken out against what were, effectively, kidnappings; but without the education vampires could give the children coped even less. On some level the guardians in the Circle of Nine were drawn to one another and separation seemed to have a negative effect; the mentalist girl in particular had a power that led to all her fellow guardians feeling her anxiety even from so great a distance.

Still, he wasn't short on friends to discuss his worries with; Vorador had become something of a voice of authority given his position as the first made and the only human who had turned entirely voluntarily, while Sianne and Samael both had plenty to say about the situation of their own kind. Gaining a balanced view of the situation was so much easier with sources on both sides, and Janos appreciated the strength of the various arguments.



Samael was not given to having guests often, seemed to find their presence a little irritating without Shia's natural talent for smoothing conversation guiding things along, but he still had a fondness for inviting Janos around. It was a fondness Janos appreciated and often returned, disliking the idea of only using his rooms for work and sex, enjoying the chance to socialise a little. He kept contact with others, yes, but Samael was a good friend and deserved the extra attention.

This night he seemed reticent despite having extended the invitation; lost in thought, but Janos would not fill the gaps in conversation with idle chatter, knew full well Samael would say whatever was on his mind eventually, if he desired.

"Do you miss the Hylden?" Samael asked at last, quietly but not so quiet that Janos could misinterpret the question.

"Almost." It was the closest to an honest answer he could give - he missed certain parts of their culture, certain gestures that he knew would be lost in time, but he had no illusions about what the Hylden had been. He had loathed the war and knew full well God's refusal to speak since the curse was their fault, same as their sterility and the blood thirst. Only the Hylden would be vicious enough to cause so much suffering even in their absence.

"There will be other wars. We were not so different from the Hylden once, same as our made children are not so different from their human brethren." Janos remained quiet, sensing through the familiarity of old friendship that Samael was not yet through. "Vorador will change, as will all of them. Slowly. Over time. They'll become more like us." Samael tilted his head towards Janos, never seeing but knowing the gestures he made well enough. "Why is that no comfort?"

Janos near bit his lip through on realising his own stupidity in not having worked out the reason for Samael's seemingly strange mood, clasped a hand over his friend's in solidarity. Preparations for the anniversary of the Pillars' raising were being made, and while he himself felt a strange relief at the upcoming event, he knew it only celebrated a miserable anniversary for his friend.

Samael said nothing more for the longest time, quiet in his grief and not a man who needed much comfort, but finally flinched violently before getting up from his seat and frowning. "We should go, Janos. There's been an accident."



Samael, as ever, had been quite right; Mortanius knelt by the balance guardian's broken body, Moebius sitting on the steps nearby, both visibly shaken and Moebius in particular unable or unwilling to speak.

Mortanius shook his head. "He was supposed to turn today," he said before looking up at his mentor. "If I had known he was going to -"

Moebius was still quiet, looking down at the balance guardian's crumpled, wrong-angled body, eyes unreadable. Given he had yet to talk no one knew if he had seen the accident though his expression looked pained enough to suggest it, and Janos placed one hand on the time-streamer's shoulder, squeezed gently. The boy was so fragile, scarcely seemed to have any bones at all, curled in on himself as if the streams he could see were crushing him. "Are you alright?"

Still no answer, not to that, but Moebius tensed before politely brushing Janos' hand from his shoulder and getting to his feet, the tension holding as he walked off, clearly anything but alright.



No misfortune would be true misfortune if it did not take more than one form, and Janos found himself torn between his duties and the constant, panicked monitoring of Vorador's health. No one had noticed anything unusual until Vorador simply refused to wake up one evening, only that he had fed a little more heavily than he tended to, and now he seemed to be in the most uncomfortable of comas, curled in on himself as if to change his shape altogether.

The worst part of the coma was not knowing what he could do to help; he prayed every night to a silent God already, kept offering his wrist to teeth that ignored its presence, but there was little more to attempt; Samael was already looking into the problem and he could not spare the time himself, not with the Citadel to attend to.

Fate might be cruel, but Vorador's sense of humour was crueller; when his fledgling finally awoke and Janos was called back to his side, asking how he was, what had happened, could he remember anything before the coma, Vorador remained silent as if struck dumb for the longest time. It was only after thoroughly studying his newly blackened nails and the bed sheets he had shredded while waking that he turned to Janos and grinned with fangs that seemed a little more elongated, ignoring all other questions; "I could do with a drink."



One misfortune had been taken care of, but Moebius still unsettled him.

Mourning was understandable, as was shock, but as much as he wanted to attribute Moebius' ongoing peculiar behaviour to the balance guardian's death he could not help but feel that perhaps Samael was right; something about Moebius' behaviour felt off, even for someone bereaved - even for someone whose health both physically and mentally depended on the stability of the Circle and the balance guardian at its core. For all his wanting to treat the boy like any other child guardian there was a definite sense that Moebius was hiding something, and despite his youth the boy was inscrutable. All Janos could truly pick up was a sense of being looked down on, and an increasingly palpable sense that he was in danger as long as he was in the boy's presence.

It was a strange, unpleasant sensation; the previous time guardian and most of the seers he had known tended to look at Janos with pity or frustration, but he had the distinct feeling that Moebius outright disliked him. Had his future changed since his hand was involved in the crafting of the Reaver? Or did the world resent vampires in some way for passing on the curse?



Still, for all Moebius' oddities the other children seemed to be reacting well to the relatively stable environment, settling down once the newest balance guardian was sourced even if the babe was scarcely out of swaddling clothes when they found him. The children seemed to have an interest in looking after one another, often grouping into pairs or trios and treating one another as siblings, sometimes more. It felt... strangely healthy, and a relief given the unfortunate bouts of violence required to give them that stability.

Vorador too seemed to be enjoying the environment; clearly loved the additional strength vampirism gave him, and he'd taken to showing off skills as he discovered them; Janos felt a little alarmed by a few of them, the ability to flay an animal with his mind a little too violent for his tastes even if it was undeniably useful, but some were entertaining.

He near jumped while writing out notes from his research when fingers tapped his shoulder from behind and he turned to face Vorador, his fledgling's footsteps having gone unheard, and it was only when Vorador took a breath and reappeared on the other side of the table that Janos realised exactly what his fledgling was showing off.

It had been a struggle, and the gestures were slightly different to those he'd been raised using, but apparently made vampires were as capable of teleportation as his own kind. Vorador's curiosity had more uses than he'd ever imagined; he hadn't even needed to offer guidance for his fledgling to master a new skill this time.

"Well?"

"I'm impressed," Janos replied, smiling despite the distraction meaning he had forgotten most of the finer details on his research he'd been trying to commit to paper. "Have you shown the others yet?"

"I'll get around to that. Are you busy tonight?"

"I had meant to -"

"Good, you can reschedule." Vorador grinned, all too fond of showing his fangs off when he smiled, though they were decidedly impressive; wolfish, even. "I've been patient for a week, and it's time you rewarded that patience."

"I Whispered to you last night," Janos reminded, lips twisting slightly towards a smirk as he recalled the exact words of that Whisper.

"And there's no damn comparison between that and your sweat. Tonight, or I'll be very disappointed."



Putting down the last of his research and deciding to follow through with his fledgling's request, Janos walked on, keeping his Whispers to Vorador quiet as he made his way towards his chambers, when he caught sight of activity down by the temple. Strange - there were no night masses scheduled, had been little worship at all given how many survivors resented their god for refusing to talk any longer - and Janos quickly realised it was no vampire, the black against the visitor's back not a set of wings but a cloak. Moebius on one of his peculiar visits, just as Samael had mentioned so many weeks ago.

Feeling guilty for spying but unable to shake a sense that he had to watch, Janos stepped back into the shadows and blew out his candle, hoped his night vision would serve him well enough as he looked down, and swallowed instinctively when Moebius looked around the main hall. Janos knew perfectly well that his feelings about the time streamer were only instinctive - that he'd never been given reason to fear more than the young man's abilities - but even so, the looks Moebius gave and secrecy of his actions inspired a certain sense of nervousness.

While there was nothing outright threatening in the way Moebius pressed his ear against the locked door to the temple, Janos found himself anxious regardless; wondered what Moebius was listening for, or more than that, who he was listening to. Their god was silent, wasn't he?

After what seemed like an age, Moebius walked away from the temple, something in his hand glowing faintly and Janos' heart pounding at the sight of it for reasons he could not explain; still, Moebius had not done anything wrong or even impolite, he had just shown curiosity.

Janos wished he could believe everything his eyes told him and ignore everything his stomach argued in return.



The visit to Vorador's room did little to settle his stomach, but at least it was a pleasant enough distraction for long enough to allow him a little sleep. Only a little; as much as he wished to sleep deeply, to forget everything that had happened, forget everything his gut instinct told him, his body had different ideas and Vorador responded in kind, waking him fully before sunset was even close and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "Your mind wasn't ready to sleep," Vorador cautioned, frowning and moving his hand down to the base of Janos' spine, rubbing firmly where it normally would help soothe the most jangled of nerves. "Care to explain the reason?"

Janos narrowed his eyes for a moment, thinking, the request to word his feelings making them seem ridiculous somehow; insubstantial. "It doesn't matter."

"Then it doesn't matter if I go back to sleep," Vorador grunted before rolling onto his back, leaving one arm around Janos' waist for the sake of offering some comfort as he drifted swiftly back into dreams, even if it took Janos some time to follow back after, the waking and conversation somehow making his fears seem foolish.



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