***The very distant past***
"Father?" A sixteen year old Angalo greeted as he stepped from his room to see his father, a broad statue of man, curled at the door to the room that he shared with his mother.
"My son..." Alpo greeted, "The sun is at its peak. Why are you up?" Angalo tilted his head, his long blonde hair covering his face. "I grew hungry..." The teenager replied, "You stayed too long in the sun, child." Alpo murmured, "Even though you survived the fever, you are still growing, my son." Alpo explained as he ran weary hands through pitch black hair. "The sun killed your grandparents." Alpo gave a wry smile as he lifted his head to look at his first born. "Your mother is bringing your brother into the world." Anglao felt his jaw slack, "My...brother?" Alpo nodded with a genuine smile. "She is so silent... is she well?" Angalo frowned when his father chuckled, "Your mother is quiet for she is strong. It is I who bears her worries and anxieties."
Anglao had no retort for his fathers words, he was outside while his mother was inside...how was he bearing her worries and anxieties? Was this another riddle of his? "One day, child you will meet a woman who will refuse to allow you to see her suffer... and you will sit outside her door, willing all of her pain to go to you so that you can see her smile. That is the blessing from our curse to siphon the blood of those lesser than ourselves." Alpos large hands covered his eyes as his smile grew, making his natural fangs glisten in the sunlight.
"We gain a life partner with whom we share our suffering..."
***Present:
Angalo sat at Atoli's bedside, holding her hand. He was willing her to heal, he was willing her suffering unto himself so that she could rest easy and heal faster...
The moment he got to claim Atoli, his fathers words: 'We gain a life partner with whom we share our suffering...' made perfect sense. Sitting here at Atoli's bedside, willing her to wake up, not wanting to miss seeing her chocolate brown eyes open... He could say that he was glad his father graced him with wisdom while he could.
Angalo's silver eyes were void of any emotion...
Seeing his brother like that- vulnerable.. helpless... it ate at him... in this moment that he watched his mate rest, his mind was plagued with the image of his brother in pain. The quiet sighs and winces pierced his heart, for he knew that his brother resembled and took after their mother. Stoic and gentle, with too big of a heart.
In the many centuries he had been alive... one of the worst things he had seen was his little brother.... almost dead at their parents hand.
Alpo... his father... was a stern man with a gentle heart...Many said that Angalo resembled his father in build and looks. His mother, Calliste, was her name sake. She was beautiful and ever watching. It was a favorite tale of how their father had collected the flowers that only bloomed under the stars deep in the mountains... he called them Calytrix.. 'Star flower' after her. Their love gave birth to many fables revolving around the Calytrix. Many fables that were lost to times merciless flow.
Anglao closed his eyes as he squeezed Atoli's hand. Praying that her eyes would open. Praying that he would get to hold her again.
He was praying. Hoping... Remembering...
When he was a child, Angalo hoped to have a love like his parents. A love that was contagious and everlasting.... The thought took Angalo to the longevity of their blood.
'Your mother is too pure for this wretched life drenched in human blood.' His fathers words haunted him. 'Her heart is too kind. So much so, the act of taking a life would consume her... even if it was to save her so that she can bear this eternity with me...'
Angalo's eyes widened. He let go of Atoli's hand and he ran to his study- on his way he found Axel, who he had personally laid in his bed, curled up at the foot of Myriah's door.
"Axel..." Angalo whispered his brothers name. Axel's knees were brought to his chest and his head tucked between them, "I wont leave her." Axel sighed as he slowly lifted his head.
Some of the color had returned to his cheeks. His eyes showed his exhaustion. "I cant..." The younger vampire whispered.
The sight of Axel curled at Myriah's door took Angalo to his child hood.... seeing his father at the foot of his mother's door...
'Your mother is quiet for she is strong. It is I who bears her worries and anxieties....'
Anglao blinked the memory away as he continued to look at his brother, who resembled their father in more ways than he ever could... More so now that he was at the foot of the door belonging to the woman he desired... The thought brought a sad smile to his lips.
Would his father be proud of him? Would he be sad? Would he worry?
Angalo could not say what his father would feel...and that thought saddened him further.
'Oh dear brother... what have you gotten yourself into...' Angalo wondered as he slowly continued his way to his study where he started to dig in drawers and shelves for his fathers old notebooks.