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oneiriad. From Blood Offering, the Sanctuary AU fic.
oneiriad. From Blood Offering, the Sanctuary AU fic.Ah! Yes! Of course. Ancient machinery, legacy of his ancestors, there for thousands of years, blah-di-blah, not the point. [Nikola, like a lot of characters in this show, seems to have a pragmatic streak a mile wide. As in, tradition and legacy, important, so important, up until they get in the way of something he wants. As he proved with Afina, the Five top the vampires for him, every time, when it comes down to it, when they're threatened] The point was iron, and wire, a makeshift torus ... He'd experimented enough for the others to know he needed ... Yes! [Nikola is ... very manic, under pressure. It's ... hard to keep up with, at times. Also? That word, 'torus', I've no idea if that word actually applies. The pronged thing he was using in 'The Five' to resurrect the vampires, somewhere in my head that crossed with dimly remembered chemistry lessons, and that word floated up. *shrugs* I don't even know]
They stared at him as he all but vaulted back across the floor, dropped to his knees. The younglings [Strange word, not sure where that one came from], the protege and Nigel's get, in macabre fascination, horror [If we're only at Revelations, these two haven't seen so much yet. Not like the Five. Also, I'm not fully sure why Clara is 'Nigel's get' here]. Helen, with furious disapproval, with something he thought might be desperation, even grief, maybe hope. She hated him, he thought. She hated that he would ask for this. But she wanted it too much to deny him. [Hates that James, that she, is helpless enough to want it, even when morally she disapproves] And Johnny ... oh, the desperation in Johnny's eyes. The violence a hair from lashing out, the need, the thunderous promise that if Nikola should fail him now, should fail them, in this ... [John just got him back. After so many years of hate, this is the first time they've really talked, really gotten somewhere, clawed something back, and then James dies. John is ... not in a good mood, about this]
Not the point. Still not the point. [Emotion, not the point. Getting shit done, THAT is the point. Worry about the rest once we've got him back] The point was the still and fragile chest beneath his hands, the point was the friend still visible beneath the sudden mask of age, of death. [This is ... a stream of input, really, with a web of connections attached. Nikola is a very ... direct-yet-webbed thinker, I think] The point was the knife in his hand, and the blood dripped between James' lips, and the coursing of electricity from his hand, through copper and iron and muscle and bone and blood. [It's always blood. Everything in their world, in one way or another, comes back to blood. Blood taken, blood shed, blood inherited. Family, the Five, vampires, abnormals, wars. Sanctuaries built on a dead man's blood. Families killed. The Source. It's all blood. All the way down the line] Always. Always, blood. The point was the sudden scream, the thin rush of air through spasming lungs, the monstrous, beautiful youth that spread along wasted limbs in the wake of blood and electricity and pain. [It's only monstrous in James because James wasn't meant to have it. It's only monstrous because James, 19th century man that he is, thinks it is. To Nikola, it's the beautiful part. Mostly because, whatever his form, it's James] The point was the friend, recognisable once again, in perhaps more demonic but no less precious guise. The point, my dear ones, was James. [I wish they'd dwelt more on the reactions to the loss of Nigel and James. Ashley's loss, we get a lot of that, but the show doesn't seem to explore what it's like to lose people who've been family for over a century. *shrugs*]
Hushed stillness reigned as James' spasming form grew still. Desperate hope, desperate fear, from all of them, every one, as black eyes opened and staring blindly past them. As a vampire's eyes opened in James' face, and stared at them blankly. No. No! Come on. [It's the loss of his mind that terrifies them. The loss of James, not the fact that he's now a vampire. Nikola's early attempts at vampires did not inspire confidence, after all. And Nikola never wanted slaves, most definitely not ones wearing the bodies of his friends]
"James!" he snapped. Hard-edged with fury, with fear. He had promised, he had sworn, but he had hoped, too, had wanted not to have to ... "James! If you don't give me a sign, right now, you know what I'll have to do ..." He couldn't bear to wait. He couldn't bear not to, his desperation echoed on every face that surrounded them. The Source Blood had to make a difference. James' own abnormality, his own fierce, glittering intelligence, his will ... It had to matter. It had to make a difference. Please, please, let this not have been for nothing ... [Because if it didn't save the important parts, the mind, the will, the memory, the man, then it was for nothing, and they're lost him anyway]
And then ... James turned. Lifted his head, turned it to meet Nikola's eyes. Intelligence slowly seeping up from behind the darkness, that familiar gleam sliding forward beneath the hunger, and James' voice, rasping and guttural around a vampire's teeth:
"Is this ... How do you live with this? Every day? Are you always this hungry?" [We don't get to see Nikola's initial transformation, but since they worked on his 'medicine' so fast, it was probably fairly traumatic. James, though, has an idea what to expected, more than a lifetime (if we take Holmes as borrowing from him) dealing with addictions and keeping control ... so all we get from James is this]
And Nikola collapsed. Slumped sideways off his knees, sitting in a sudden heap, and watched the others near-fall after him. Helen, head suddenly bowed in insupportable relief. [People tend to die on Helen. It's nice when they don't] John, tipped against the pillar, head resting against ancient stone and looking down at a now-youthful head in undisguised, tremulous joy. [John ... doesn't get to keep a lot of things. Doesn't get second chances. I've a feeling it hits him pretty hard when he does] The protege, hands fisted and uncertain, nonetheless reaching to touch a slumped shoulder, to feel the life in it and realise it was real. [Will ... clicked pretty quickly with James. Heh] Nikola, almost absently, reached out to still that hopeful hand before it made contact, the warning implicit. [Never quite losing the pragmatic streak. Rampant hopeful idealist though he is. Don't-poke-the-hungry-vampire. Like not standing in front of the Source-blood-blocking weapon when you're a vampire. He DOES have some common sense, our Nikola ...] Not yet. Not just yet. James saw. James blinked at him. [Not that the rest of them would believe it. *grins*]
They stared at him as he all but vaulted back across the floor, dropped to his knees. The younglings [Strange word, not sure where that one came from], the protege and Nigel's get, in macabre fascination, horror [If we're only at Revelations, these two haven't seen so much yet. Not like the Five. Also, I'm not fully sure why Clara is 'Nigel's get' here]. Helen, with furious disapproval, with something he thought might be desperation, even grief, maybe hope. She hated him, he thought. She hated that he would ask for this. But she wanted it too much to deny him. [Hates that James, that she, is helpless enough to want it, even when morally she disapproves] And Johnny ... oh, the desperation in Johnny's eyes. The violence a hair from lashing out, the need, the thunderous promise that if Nikola should fail him now, should fail them, in this ... [John just got him back. After so many years of hate, this is the first time they've really talked, really gotten somewhere, clawed something back, and then James dies. John is ... not in a good mood, about this]
Not the point. Still not the point. [Emotion, not the point. Getting shit done, THAT is the point. Worry about the rest once we've got him back] The point was the still and fragile chest beneath his hands, the point was the friend still visible beneath the sudden mask of age, of death. [This is ... a stream of input, really, with a web of connections attached. Nikola is a very ... direct-yet-webbed thinker, I think] The point was the knife in his hand, and the blood dripped between James' lips, and the coursing of electricity from his hand, through copper and iron and muscle and bone and blood. [It's always blood. Everything in their world, in one way or another, comes back to blood. Blood taken, blood shed, blood inherited. Family, the Five, vampires, abnormals, wars. Sanctuaries built on a dead man's blood. Families killed. The Source. It's all blood. All the way down the line] Always. Always, blood. The point was the sudden scream, the thin rush of air through spasming lungs, the monstrous, beautiful youth that spread along wasted limbs in the wake of blood and electricity and pain. [It's only monstrous in James because James wasn't meant to have it. It's only monstrous because James, 19th century man that he is, thinks it is. To Nikola, it's the beautiful part. Mostly because, whatever his form, it's James] The point was the friend, recognisable once again, in perhaps more demonic but no less precious guise. The point, my dear ones, was James. [I wish they'd dwelt more on the reactions to the loss of Nigel and James. Ashley's loss, we get a lot of that, but the show doesn't seem to explore what it's like to lose people who've been family for over a century. *shrugs*]
Hushed stillness reigned as James' spasming form grew still. Desperate hope, desperate fear, from all of them, every one, as black eyes opened and staring blindly past them. As a vampire's eyes opened in James' face, and stared at them blankly. No. No! Come on. [It's the loss of his mind that terrifies them. The loss of James, not the fact that he's now a vampire. Nikola's early attempts at vampires did not inspire confidence, after all. And Nikola never wanted slaves, most definitely not ones wearing the bodies of his friends]
"James!" he snapped. Hard-edged with fury, with fear. He had promised, he had sworn, but he had hoped, too, had wanted not to have to ... "James! If you don't give me a sign, right now, you know what I'll have to do ..." He couldn't bear to wait. He couldn't bear not to, his desperation echoed on every face that surrounded them. The Source Blood had to make a difference. James' own abnormality, his own fierce, glittering intelligence, his will ... It had to matter. It had to make a difference. Please, please, let this not have been for nothing ... [Because if it didn't save the important parts, the mind, the will, the memory, the man, then it was for nothing, and they're lost him anyway]
And then ... James turned. Lifted his head, turned it to meet Nikola's eyes. Intelligence slowly seeping up from behind the darkness, that familiar gleam sliding forward beneath the hunger, and James' voice, rasping and guttural around a vampire's teeth:
"Is this ... How do you live with this? Every day? Are you always this hungry?" [We don't get to see Nikola's initial transformation, but since they worked on his 'medicine' so fast, it was probably fairly traumatic. James, though, has an idea what to expected, more than a lifetime (if we take Holmes as borrowing from him) dealing with addictions and keeping control ... so all we get from James is this]
And Nikola collapsed. Slumped sideways off his knees, sitting in a sudden heap, and watched the others near-fall after him. Helen, head suddenly bowed in insupportable relief. [People tend to die on Helen. It's nice when they don't] John, tipped against the pillar, head resting against ancient stone and looking down at a now-youthful head in undisguised, tremulous joy. [John ... doesn't get to keep a lot of things. Doesn't get second chances. I've a feeling it hits him pretty hard when he does] The protege, hands fisted and uncertain, nonetheless reaching to touch a slumped shoulder, to feel the life in it and realise it was real. [Will ... clicked pretty quickly with James. Heh] Nikola, almost absently, reached out to still that hopeful hand before it made contact, the warning implicit. [Never quite losing the pragmatic streak. Rampant hopeful idealist though he is. Don't-poke-the-hungry-vampire. Like not standing in front of the Source-blood-blocking weapon when you're a vampire. He DOES have some common sense, our Nikola ...] Not yet. Not just yet. James saw. James blinked at him. [Not that the rest of them would believe it. *grins*]
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