Apocalypse Please {Viv}

[Scotty Kovac]

Oh God, oh God, oh God; he’d screwed things up royally and that had been poor word choice on his brain’s behalf. Scotty Kovac frowned, word choice about how bad he’d made things didn’t matter, it was the words he’d be telling Vivian he needed to focus on. He still couldn’t believe what he’d done, couldn’t believe that he’d slept with Finlay –one of his best friends. It had been a drunken mistake and now the boy was wandering the path to Hogsmeade still trying to think about how to tell Vivian.

He doubted it would go down well, especially if he told her the part where he’d thought it was her. Even though it was the God’s honest truth, even to him it sounded like nothing more than a pathetic excuse. That was one thing he definitely had to be careful with; excuses. He would offer her absolutely none, not even that he was so drunk he barely remembered most of the night. There was no excuse for what he’d done to her, he was weak and stupid.

The closer Scotty got to the Hog’s Head the more his heart raced and the more his mind went blank. Even though he’d been up all night rehearsing, as well as during lessons and on the walk over, all he’d prepared was gone. Oh God. There was nothing he could do about it, he had to tell Vivian prepared words or not. The guilt over the last day and a half had almost killed him so not telling the girl was definitely not on the cards.

Never before had he dreaded the sight of the pub’s wooden door as much as he did now. The boy took a deep breath, one that could potentially be his last if Ed found out, and walked through the door. Purposefully he walked over to where he’d spotted Vivian was sitting and without hesitation blurted out, ”Vivian, there’s something I have to tell you; I slept with Finlay Mackenzie about a night and half ago. Oh God I am so sorry, I never meant to hurt you like I have. I’m a bastard I know I am and I understand if you want me to leave.” By the end of it all a usually stoic Scotty was on the verge of tears.

[Vivian Nazarova]

  There was something about wrapping cutlery; something almost therapeutic about it. Vivian didn’t know what, nor was she particularly in the mood to analyse it. She was just glad for its effects really. She’d only woken up a while ago and there wasn’t much to do aside from busywork like this, but she was rather thankful for it. It meant she could wake up slowly. The large pile of knives, forks and napkins in front of her was decreasing at a steady pace and Vivian was on the last few when Scotty arrived at the Hogs head.

  She smelt him before she saw him. His scent reached her even through the smoke and classic pub aroma. It was clearer today because he was stressed. Vivian perked up like a hound sensing a rabbit, a wide grin on her face. Ooh he was early. What had she done to deserve such a visit? Cutlery or Scotty? Not really a very hard decision, that one.

  He was making his way over fairly quickly, and Vivian was just pleased enough to see him that she didn’t notice something was off until he got closer. He was fidgety, strained. He smelt stressed. His heart-rate was through the roof. Had something happened at school? Oh well, he was here now, and she gave him a genuinely happy smile as he drew up. Couldn’t be that bad was it?

 ... Only it was that bad.

  Not just ‘that bad’, it was worse.

  The smile slunk off her face as his confession poured out, replaced with an open mouthed look of shock. No. It wasn’t just—

  He hadn’t cause—

  There was no way he—

  Oh my God.

  Vivian’s thought process just stopped. He couldn’t have. And he wouldn’t have. But he did. Her fingers gripped the side of the wooden table so hard the wood was actually starting to crack. There was a feeling in her stomach of outright denial because it was so much harder to accept the truth. A defence mechanism that made her feel like an outsider looking at someone else’s life, like this was happening to a stranger, not to her. Like she’d just detached. But it was the truth. His face confirmed it. That deadened look. He’d cheated on her and he...

  Oh God her chest hurt now. Her head hurt. A wave of tears were threatening to break the surface and she couldn’t look at him anymore. A part of her own brain still wanted her to think this was a sick joke but...

  “Get out,” she managed. She tried to sound strong. Tried to sound composed. But all the came out was the choked voice of a young girl on the verge of tears.

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[Scotty Kovac]

In a sick, twisted way Scotty was glad he’d said outright what he’d came to say. If he’d hesitated even in the slightest he probably never would have told Vivian. Now it was done and he was actually ready to face the consequences of his actions. He stood silently and watched his girlfriend’s reaction; one that was almost exactly like he’d envisioned except in the envisioned version she hadn’t been holding potentially lethal cutlery. In the hands of a human girl the knives and forks wouldn’t have been as scary as they were but in the hands of a supernaturally strong vampire one well aimed throw could see a knife cleave through his spine or something.

Her words, ”Get out,” were exactly what the boy had been expecting to hear but no matter how ready for them he had been they still stung something fierce. Scotty felt his heart break for Vivian and for himself and tears threatened to fall. Even if he’d wanted to say anything before his mind was completely numb now. In fact his entire body felt numb and all he wanted to do was disappear. He knew he couldn’t but he could do the next best thing.

Without another word Scott turned to the door, head hanging low. Silent tears ran down his face as the boy walked towards it but just before exiting it he stopped and looked over his shoulder at Vivian. He wanted so much to tell her he loved her and that he was sorry over and over again but even he knew she needed time. Maybe in time she’d decide that she didn’t totally hate his guts but to Scotty that was just wishful thinking.

[Dacian]

The night was beginning to get bitterly cold, and even th vampire could feel it. He’d caught frost trying to invade his toes when he woke up, and it’d taken some vigorous rubbing to generate enough friction to warm them. He needed a less freezing place to sleep. He could always dig a hole down beneath the permafrost, but there was something degrading about sleeping in a hole you had to build for yourself.

There was a snowball’s chance in hell that he could wrangle his way back into the basement at the Hog’s Head. He could sneak in there, perhaps, but he didn’t trust Edward not to douse him in liquor and set him on fire while he slept. He sighed and fractured a frozen puddle with a heel in the middle of the street. Well, he’d survive no matter what the weather threw at him, so he should really worry about more pressing matters.

He was lurking across the street from the Hog’s, watching the steady stream of patrons come and go. He thought he recognised one of them, but he shrugged it off. Maybe he’d tried to eat them in the past. If he stayed here much longer, he would have drunk from almost every eligible person here. He was so conscious about avoiding attention that he’d even resorted to drinking from men. Ergh. He felt violated.

He could hear the hubbub inside the pub, the voices merged and indistinct. One voice however he picked up, and he strained to catch the barely discernable words. ‘Get out.’ He frowned. Was that really Vivian? He crossed the street swiftly, and as he reached it, the door opened and that familiar person exited. Dacian could have sworn those were tears on his face. If he recalled correctly, this was the boy Vivian clung so hard to Hogsmeade to keep in contact with.

Dacian was no psychiatrist, but something here was not right. Ignoring the boy in favour of checking on Vivian first, he stepped through the door, and narrowly missed a fork as it flew past his face and embedded itself in the wood beside the frame. Dacian backtracked its projection, and was surprised to see Vivian standing across the room looking, well, looking. If Dacian could read expressions, he would say that Vivian might be angry. Now that wasn’t normal. He couldn’t even recall Vivian even raising her voice in anger before.

The sudden violence had shushed the patrons, and they were looking around in some bemusement. Dacian was glad he’d warn warmer-looking clothes. He didn’t want to be recognised for what he was. Striding around in trousers and a dress shirt was not exactly subtle. The hood on his coat was still up since he’d just come in, and after apprising the situation for a few seconds, he grabbed the handle of the fork and prised it out of the wall (with some minor difficulty, he was pleased to note). The prongs were now horridly disfigured, and he shucked the hood as he turned toward Vivian, holding the fork up and raising a brow.

That expression she was pulling now was more familiar, but he didn’t like the watery look to her eyes so to save further attention drawn their way (though from the whispering of the humans, he didn’t see how that was possible) he wove between the tables and chairs toward his emotional changeling. “You are not happy.” He told her, almost as if he was proud that he noticed. For once he was going to find out the reasoning behind all this emotional drama, and if it had anything to do with the boy who had just left – as he strongly suspected – then he was going to break some more bones tonight.

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[Vivian Nazarova]

  That was it. And he turned around and he was walking away and Vivian wanted to stop him; to scream something; to shout something; to cry something; to forgive him; to tell him never to come back. She didn’t even know. She didn’t know anything anymore. She’d woken up this evening and now nothing, nothing was the same as it had been. The information was crashing on her; drowning her; smothering her.

  Vivian wrenched her gaze away from Scotty’s back. She couldn’t look at him and a choking sob forced its way up. Vivian closed a hand distraughtly over her mouth to stifle the sound, body wracked with a pain that wasn’t physical and eyes bright with tears, trying and failing desperately to not cause a scene. Oh God. How could he... Why did he... What fragile resolve she had broke and she began crying. She tried to force the tears away, blinking hurriedly to no avail. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

  She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t just sit still. Vivian got to her feet so shakily she felt like she was going to collapse again. She rested her hand on the table for support. She couldn’t breathe. Her air passages were closing up. If she had of still been human she’d have felt as though she was burning at a hundred degrees. Her chest was so tight it hurt, as though her heart was trying to contract and rip right out of her. She clutched her hand to her sternum desperately, fingers clawing around the fabric of her shirt as she drew in laboured, instinctual breaths.

  What could only be a sick sense of masochism made her look at the doorway again. She caught the tail end of Scotty’s sorry look before he turned around again and an entirely new emotion flared up. Anger. Just... anger. HOW could he have done this to her? Her internal anguish was manifesting outward. Just he... argh! She was stuck by the overwhelming urge to hit him, a subconscious need to force the pain she was feeling onto him by the only means possible, but he was too far away. The forks weren’t though, and before she knew it she had flung one at him. It missed, thudding solidly to lodge in the wall and almost missing—

  Oh God.

  Surprise gripped her and everything was replaced by a feeling of shock. Both hands snapped to Vivian’s mouth as it turned out she’d almost taken her own sire’s eye out. Oh God as if she couldn’t make things any worse.

  The shock lingered as she watched Dacian walk up to her, like she was in a daze. She wanted him to go, to leave her alone, but at the same time she wanted him to hug her and tell her it was going to be okay and to not leave her alone. Just as she was wresting with these two emotions, Dacian opted to pipe up.

  “You are not happy.”

  Well, you could say that.

  Vivan gave a long slow blink but her attempts to maintain composure and save what little dignity she had left was short lived. Images were swirling involuntarily in her mind: Scotty and Finlay tangled in the sheets, the girls hands gripping the bedcovers, Scotty’s groans of pleasure, the look of ecstasy on both their faces and—

  Vivian gave a pained howl, and before she knew it she had grabbed Dacian by the middle in a bone-crushing, desperate hug.

  So much for not causing a scene, because everyone was probably watching now.

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[Dacian]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]Vivian had always been a calm changeling. Not since she’d changed had she given in to fits of bloodlust, and this was perhaps the most distraught he had ever seen her. Whatever had happened had to be more terrible than being killed, brought back as a vampire, and then your sire killed, and miraculously returning. He almost felt annoyed that the revelation of the previous night had been trumped by this one. Something in her life was more important than him? He should have figured, really. Vivian was becoming increasingly angst-ridden, and just as he laid a hand on her shoulder to direct her out, she grabbed him in a tight embrace. It was a testament to her growing strength that the clutching was actually physically uncomfortable, though the personal discomfort surpassed it by a few hundred pascals. He held her to him briefly, because that was apparently what you did, then slipped the fork he still held into a coat pocket and reached around her to pick the remaining pile of napkins from the table. When it appeared she was not going to let go any time soon, he prized her away enough to lift her, and carried her like an oversized toddler up the stairs to the second floor, away from prying eyes. Even if he hadn’t known which room was hers, he would have been able to make a guess from the almost tangible thrum from the thresholds securing the other doors from his entry. Being a vampire, Vivian’s occupancy of a room did not give it the protective threshold barrier, and he was able to carry her in without an invitation. He set her down by the bed, released himself from her clinging arms and sat her down on the neatly made bed. He sat beside her, and leaned forward enough that he could see her face. After handing her a napkin, he put the rest on the bed behind them. Tears were not something he was accustomed to, but Vivian seemed to have a lot to share. “Alright, tell me what happened?” It was very close to an order, but Dacian was being especially careful to be ‘sensitive’ and used a softer tone of voice that was closer to a question. “Are you hurt?” He couldn’t smell blood on her, so he imagined whatever she was feeling was not a physical pain. He wished it were. Physical pain was much easier to handle, and revenge was black and white. And Dacian was very good at revenge.

[Vivian Nazarova]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Vivian/H2/Viv12.png,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Vivian/Viv1_02.png][atrb=style,padding:0px 50px;background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;]   Dacian was holding her, and Vivian didn’t even make a squeak in protest when he detached her from his ribs. She was aware that he had picked her up and was carrying her, and through the blinding smog of self-pity, she was grateful. She needed to get somewhere quiet. Away from eyes. Somewhere where she—No. Not to think. She didn’t want to think. Not now or ever.   She wanted Ed. Needed him to blast her with the most powerful memory charm he knew until the name Scotty Kovac meant nothing.   Vivian just clung her arms around Dacian’s neck like an oversized five year old, crying as quietly as she could manage into her arm. By the feel of it they were moving upstairs. Her room. Okay. That was the best place for her to be.   When Dacian put her down on the bed Vivian wasted no time in kicking off her shoes, flipping open the covers and curling up underneath them. She wanted somewhere warm, and safe. This was the best she had.   “Are you hurt?”   “No,” she whined, digging her face in her pillow.   He wanted to know what was wrong. The only trouble was... it was Dacian. He was far more likely to go and smash Scotty over the head with a cinderblock than say something comforting. Admittedly the mental image was rather appealing right now but it was one thing to visualise it and another thing to actually have it happen. The only trouble was if she kept her mouth shut she was liable to implode.   “It vos Scotty,” she managed to choke out. “He and another girl—” the words wouldn’t come out. Vivian seized up before promptly burying her head in the pillow again, now with a fresh wave of gasps and sobs.

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[Dacian]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;] Well kudos for him, he’d been right. Scotty. Scott... he couldn’t recall the surname, but the face was now lodged in his memory. He gave a rumbling bass grumble, standing and pacing around the bed. He could do with a window to stare out of, but of course there were none in Vivian’s room. He retrieved the gnarled fork from his pocket and inspected it in the light from the hallway. It was a pity she hadn’t hit Scott with it, it would have saved him a job. So Scott had broken Vivian’s trust, and from what he could gather, he had done it by being with another girl. He was like all hot-blooded males, there was nothing special about him. Even Dacian could have told Vivian that. She’d been foolish to attach herself to him. The urge to say ‘I told you so’ was strong, but he was stronger. He was at a strategic advantage. “He upset you, that was his mistake.” He mused almost to himself. Young Scott was going to learn a lesson; what happened to people who hurt his ward. He clenched the fork handle tightly in his fist, and looked over to the bundle in the bed. The girl was utterly distraught, and while Dacian could understand why the boy’s betrayal cut her, he could not see how it was a mortal wound. They were only children; they did not know what heartbreak was. This worked in Dacian’s favour. Perhaps that was the only reason why Scott was not already enrolled in the lesson Dacian had planned. The less attached to this place she was, the less ties she had, the easier it would be to pry her away. Now he only needed darling Edward to make a wrong move, and she’d be hanging by a thread. They could finally leave to safety. Dacian made his way back to the bed, sitting on its edge and laying a tentative hand on her duvet-clad shoulder. “Tell me what I can do?” Aside from break Scott’s neck which he could barely resist himself. If she asked hurt upon the mortal boy, Dacian couldn’t promise he could hold himself back. Killing students was a sure way to get noticed. Again. Not something he could afford in his current situation.

[Vivian Nazarova]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Vivian/H2/Viv12.png,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v321/1300666/Characters/Vivian/Viv1_02.png][atrb=style,padding:0px 50px;background-position:top;background-repeat:no-repeat;]   Dacian got up and paced the room. Vivian watched him walk, only her eyes moving. He seemed to be mulling something over, and when he pulled out the fork she almost seemed to retreat further down under the covers.   Oh God, the fork.   She shouldn’t have done that, but it hadn’t felt wrong at the time and still didn’t feel wrong now in retrospect. If she had of hit anyone with it she would have felt differently, but no harm no foul right?   Dacian looked at her again and in response Vivian’s tear-stained face disappeared under the duvet. She didn't want to be seen - not in this state. The mound she was making quickly rolled into a ball and the sound of crying became audible again.   It was stuffy, and breathing was only easy until the oxygen started running low. She didn’t care, just clutched her knees to her chest and accepted the façade of safety that being covered gave her. The mattress sunk near her and took it to mean that Dacian had sat down beside her.   “Tell me what I can do?” he asked, the weight of a hand descending on her shoulder.   God if he kept that up she was going to have to be forced to believe he was actually capable of being caring properly. Her world had already been turned around enough today without Dacian suddenly being kind and empathetic on top of everything.   “Nothing,” she replied between gasping sobs. It came out a bit harsh, but it was the truth. The only thing Dacian would do was relieve Scotty of a few limbs. Again, a tempting visual, but she somehow couldn’t bring herself to see him maimed. “Just stay.”

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[Dacian]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/daci.png][bg=000000][atrb=style,background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 220px 65px 65px 65px;]Damn, he’d been hoping for an easier way out. ‘Go away’ would have been a nice responce. Dealing with crying women was not his forte. Talking to a lump of duvet was almost mildly ridiculous, and so when he sat down beside her, his hand still resting on her shoulder, he looked at the wall and spoke instead. “Alright, Vivian.” He gently smoothed the cover over her arm. “If that’s what you want.” The longer he sat here, the further away that Scott was getting. And that distance was directly proportional to his anger. Scott would not be getting away with this. He had to pay some how. Vivian’s breathing calmed, and soon stopped altogether. She was sleeping. Relieved, Dacian rose from the bed carefully and after closing the door behind him, he was outside and running after Scott. The boy had hurt Vivian, and Dacian could not abide that. Not at all.