MARCEL WATCHED GRAYSON SLOWLY GAIN CONSCIOUSNESS. Awaiting him to fully awaken, as he awaited just a mere distance away from him. He never got too close to him, not unless he had to, when his hands where forced to.
Grayson had been out for days. Laying in his bed he once slept in, unaware of everything. Sleeping his days away. Titan really did a number on him, as much as he wanted to be pissed at his brother's extreme methods, he was also glad. They were never on the same page, ever. They were far too different. But even with their obvious differences, Marcel was grateful for this gesture, for the first time in a long time he felt a sense of warmth towards his brother, a fullness of soul and breath that is thankfulness.
But knowing Titan, that would be short lived. He had a mind of his own, and no matter how much Marcel kept him on a leash, he always got what he wanted. No matter what the cost was, but question was, what did he want? Titan would never help anyone without a cost, not even his own blood. Especially Marcel. So what was his agenda? There had to be something he wanted. What was he scheming?
But Titan had to wait, for in this moment his focus was only on Grayson. In the dark room, even the ticking had a relaxed feeling, as if it was a heart-beat at rest. Marcel felt as if the air moved like a cool water and the aroma of the scented candles infused him far more deeply than it did in the light of day. In the twilight the fabrics were muted hues, as if to awaited dawn to ignite their colours for all to see.
He watched him, like a hawk. Waiting patiently for him to awaken, but Grayson seems to really be taking his damn time, 'I bet he isn't even making an effort, he never wants to awaken. I don't blame him,' he thought, what else would it be? He wasn't gonna stand here and say that it wasn't true, he knew that he was the main character in his nightmares.
Marcel felt time move for the first time in a long time. Time had once stood still for him, never moving, always still. But now he realised it to be a thief, it stole everything from him. Because in fact time had suddenly made him realised how Grayson had grown over the years, he no longer was a small infant he had once raised and held within the grasp of his hands. He was a man now. Grayson had lost the traces of boyhood.
Marcel for once took the time to really take in his appearance, from where he laid fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the world around him. He took in the growth of his strength, from his muscular built, the clean shaven square jaw and his tuned into his voice as he muffled in his sleep, groaning as he attempted to move but couldn't. It was deep as any man. Even though Marcel had never seen Grayson smile he knew that if he imaged him to smile with ease and made fluid arm movement to exaggerate his buoyant speeches he would give, he had one hell of a mouth. He looked no more than a little over twenty, in fact he was twenty-three, he turned it a few days ago. Never once had he celebrated a birthday, and for that he was to blame.
Grayson had that Clarke Kent look about him, the dark hair but his eyes never matched Clarke Kent's as his were forest green, but when angry they would shine bright, red and bloody just like his own. Even if Grayson didn't know it yet, they were one of the same. But as much as they were one of the same, he now realised further his command on him was useless, he wouldn't be able to teach him of things anymore, things that were important to him. To simply control him as he had done. If they knew what he was, they would completely obliterate him, use him as a weapon. 'Isn't that what you have done?' He asked himself.
"Alison..." Grayson suddenly whispered, stirring his head. Alison? Who was she? Was that his mate? It defiantly spiked an interest, Marcel focused on the two, his curiosity building like a cat fixated upon his prey. Just like a snake, he slithered closer towards Grayson, slowly towering his helpless, sleeping form. He defiantly had to wonder though, what could Grayson possibly be dreaming about? To make him want to never wake up.
'Alison huh? So that's her name.' He smirked.
Marcel raised a hand towards Grayson's forehead, placing it gently on top. Vampires had one speciality, a gift. Not many knew of this gift and not many knew how to use, to wield it. Telepathy was something he had obtained after his transformation, he'd mastered it centuries after centuries, it was a neat trick in to gaining information on his enemies. The witch that had cursed him to this form. To a life of vampirism, she had made a true mistake for he would rather burn them. And that's what he wanted, every witch to burn. Painfully and in agony.
As he turned his head, closing his eyes feeling his way as he slipped through Grayson subconsciousness, breaking his barriers bit by bit. It wasn't long before he fully submerged himself into his mind, seeing everything through Grayson's eyes. Marcel felt everything.
Pain seared through his abdomen better than a branding iron, his mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion. Without meaning to he saw Grayson's body curl into something fatal, something primeval and all the while it burned and radiated. It was puzzling, was this just him dreaming? Or was he reliving a memory? But he'd been in Grayson's mind before, he had never seen this before. It was new.
In a moment's flash, he saw him stand in the midst of a vast darkness. There was a dull spotlight on him, and on his clothes. Glancing down at his hands and feet, finding himself wearing a white shirt and pants, which he never choose. 'What was going on?' Marcel thought. Nothing seeming to make sense, flashes after flashes appeared within his mind.
That fear Grayson felt, he felt it also. Fear hitting him like a falling tree in an ice storm. Grayson stood barefooted, and the soles of his feet were hot. The hair on the back of his head stood up.' Where are you?' Marcel watched in the distance, making sure not to interrupt. Worried by the vast, empty, wasteland which surrounded the both of them. It's pitch black. Grayson eyes couldn't penetrate the darkness no matter which way he turned, it was complete shutdown of light, except for the dull light that surrounded him. That darkness weighed heavily on his shoulders, feeling as if it were brooding and rotating about him. Then, the loneliness, and the sheer depth of his aloneness takes his fear to a level he never knew.
But just before him there were streams, the smell of...sulfur? The pungent vapour filled his nostrils, turning his stomach. 'What the...' Confusion was far from what he felt, 'Gray where the hell are?'
As Marcel dove deeper into his subconscious, forcefully. Muffled voices spelling out from his left and from behind him, hearing a ripple of mocking laughter. Waves of rejection and hatred sweep through him like the heavy stream from a fireman's hose. Suddenly he had realised where Grayson was, where his soul was taking residency while his body slept away the days. Hell, he was in Hell itself. But he never got the chance to properly see, nothing but glimpse of his past, flashing before his eyes until everything inside Marcel had suddenly turned and twisted inside of his stomach, dread suddenly filled him to the brim.
There stood the only person he had spent centuries hating; her skin was flawless just like before, her youthfulness shone through. She wasn't dead, she was very much alive, never having aged a day. The image of her, had him pull out of Grayson's mind.
"Emily." He seethed her name with hatred. A hatred that masqueraded as an ointment to hurt when in truth it is no more than gasoline for the flames. More hatred only guaranteed more enmity, more pain, more death ahead. He had found her, and he was thirsty for the spillage of her blood. A promise he vowed to keep.
Sweat was dripping down from his skin, entering someones mind wasn't easy, it was draining and he didn't do it often but this time he was glad. For he had found the one women responsible for his misery. 'I'm coming for you Emily. Sooner than you think.' An unholy voice spoke within his mind, he narrowed his eyes once again glancing at Grayson, who remained asleep still.
"Let me guess, you saw her." In the shadows of this room, Titan lingered. Mischief twinkled within his eyes. 'Of course he knew.' He thought.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" He spoke, as his jaw tightened and his fisted bawled into a tight fist, eyeing his brother in the eyes.
"And what would've been the fun in that." Titan smirked wickedly, he just couldn't help himself. 'What game are you playing?' Marcel thought.
"I'm curious. Now that you know where she is, what do you plan to do with her?" Titan asked, leaning against the wall that stood next to him, folding his arms across his chest.
"Like you said brother, what would be the fun in that." And with his last words spoken, Marcel gave Grayson, one more glance as he walked out his room. Leaving the both of them behind, with echoing footsteps that interrupt the silent hallway, sounding overly loud in his own ears, like the booming heartbeat of a condemned prisoner.
He stalked, his dimly lit hallway making his way to his room. If he had painted the walls black the room couldn't be any darker. The once frilly net curtains at the window are thick with over a decade of grime.
The light that struggles through fails to reflect from the once beige carpet that is more like a forest floor in both colour and texture. The walls could be any shade at all, he couldn't tell anymore. There was no chance at all he took another step further until he reached his bed.
Whatever his brother was planning, he had to beat him to the chase. He needed to keep a closer leash on him than he had thought. Something didn't feel right...
"You called." Misha entered his room, shutting the door behind her. He knew he could trust Misha, no matter how afraid of she was, she was compelled, bound to him and only him. Vampires turned others for one reason only, to have someone they could trust.
"Yes I did." Misha followed him as a sheep is a pestilence, and that pestilence was the real value in their own turned- he would bring them wisdom and they would lay at his feel. It was loyalty most searched for. Of course some did it because they were lonely but most always did it because they wanted an army, to create something bigger.
"Was there something you needed, Master?" She asked. Marcel never had anyone within his coven that weren't turned by himself, trust was something he struggled to give. Once trusts are broken, lies are told. For him to believe in what he seeks, he needed to trust the people within his coven, on his side. His one regret was Titan, for he was as old as Marcel himself and so his trust was broken between the two brothers countless times.
"Make sure you keep a close eye on Titan." Whatever he is planning, Marcel knew that he wasn't going to fall for his brother's tricks again, not like last time.
There was something puzzling in Misha's gait, enough to want to ask her question. "Was there something he has done?" She continued, etching her curiosity.
"I'm not sure yet, but I'm about to find out." He spoked, quizzical. With that she nodded her head and turned to leave but paused.
"If you find anything, tell no one but me."
"Yes Master." And with that she left.