Needless to state, having a goddamn stake shoved through his body has weakened the vampire, for it was taking more than a little bit of effort to even move the weapon only slightly without being too obvious. It may not have pierced his heart, which spelled death instantaneously, but it caused a great deal of trauma to his body – that kind of damage had dire effects and took a toll on him immediately. He knew he wouldn’t be able to heal properly once the stake was removed, whether by his hand or his attacker’s (in that case he predicted he wouldn’t have much time to recover to begin with, as the other would no doubt strike another blow – perhaps a more fatal one next time) and his enhanced abilities were be severely crippled, so an inhumanly quick escape wouldn’t be an option. But Ethan wouldn’t be able to fight for his survival either, not when his attacker had a definite advantage over him.
Despite his earlier dull expression, pain seeped onto his features, his jaw tightening and facial muscles twitching as he cringed from the tantalizingly slow burning. He stared the other down, not blinking even once, the ‘artificial’ breath he drew to blend in with humans non-existent. Not even his growling was proper, the sound coming out of his throat as a mere trembling groan. “When you have lived for two hundred and fifty years,” the vampire replied, his voice strained a bit, as he tried not to focus on the pain. “The fear of death – the question of whether or not you are truly ready – matters little anymore.” He rolled his head back to rest against the wall, though his eyes never left the other man, taking a very brief break from his attempt to pry the stake free – the vampire’s stamina beginning to dwindle. “My care for my fate ceased to exist after the first century I walked on this Earth.” That was partially true; while Ethan would still fight for his survival upon mere instinct alone, a part of him really did start to welcome the idea of dying – the vampire has seen and done terrible things in his long life, one day long ago coming to a conclusion that there was a fate worse than death.
“Humor me,,” he continued, grunting softly while cringing in pain after involuntarily shifting a little bit, the wooden dagger thus ripping through more of his flesh, bone and muscle. “
if you would so kindly-” even fatally wounded and on the brink of possible extinction, his gentlemanly nature was strong, “-you seemed to be aware of my kind, yet I have no idea as to who you are – your scent is one I cannot place. Nor is your face recognizable to me; who are you? And to what ‘pleasure’ do I owe this…predicament?”
❝ caring for one’s fate is an aspect of survival. ❞ that much was for certain as the demon tapped the edge of the dagger once more,
❝ no matter how much you want to go, there will always be something inside that will prevent your ultimate demise.❞ not that he truly cared about such matters; in his mind, dying was a privilege, and even then there were ways to come back from it.
oddly enough, all of ky’lar’s attempts to die had been unsuccessful, and he wasn’t about to attempt it again. at least, not with out understanding the process. even then, it could take years to ensure that he was never able to completely come back. the only problem to that plan was there would always someone attempting to stop him. it didn’t matter the year, the city, or even if he knew anyone where he tried. humanity always had it in them to value and therefore save life.
it was a foolish endeavor, one that more than likely would result in their own demise, but for now, he wasn’t going to debate that little perspective with the vampire,
❝ as for who i am? ❞ a faint chuckle escaped the demon’s lips,
❝ a friend — if things work out right. ❞ though, he truly doubted the would,
❝ ‘course, if they don’t, you dying will be the least of your worries. i can promise you that. ❞
Hellfirebound 