From the Bottom of the Fall

“Mickail…what are you doing?” He asked quietly before he stood up and deposited the book that he was reading down on the chair. His light eyes blinked in the sudden harsh light as his body froze in sudden fear as his owner walked around him and it was said that a body could not be fully owned. Like hell. He was tired of people wondering why he never tried to escape, why it was that every order that his owner gave him was obeyed without question. His long brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail and his nails were naturally black. His eyes, normally so expressive, were dull with the repeated attempts at Mickail to breed him, to get a child that was stronger, more powerful, and yet submissive.

He had been a slave for years upon years, for such at that he no longer remembered what it was like to have the freedom to walk from the house to go down the street. To go to the club with Occam and Capella and sing his heart out, to express the emotion that he wished, to vent his anger and his pain. Of course, as a slave, he had no such emotions, at least he wasn’t supposed to.

Well fuck the world.

He had those emotions and he relished them, he knew that he survived only because his spirit refused to be broken. He was beyond the realm of bowing to Mickail. The man may have owned him, violated his body and kept him in gold chains, but his mind, his spirit was all too free. He gave up wishing, he gave up hoping, his plan was almost in action. He saw as his owner walked closer to him, Mickail, the walking corpse, who took the warmth from the air and from those that were around him to keep his flesh at only a cold temperature instead of freezing. Vynzent allowed himself to be pulled into the other man’s arms and gagged quietly at the taste of decomposing flesh as Mickail’s tongue invaded his mouth.

He had to ignore the feel of cold hands on his person, of the maggots that climbed over the flesh, as the eyes that were dead glow with an evil light as he fed off of the warmth from Vynzent. Mickail, when he hadn’t fed was like a drowning victim, the skin was slick and felt wet but wasn’t. The skin could easily fall off of flesh if the man wasn’t cursed for eternity. His skin crawled from the affect that the man had on him, as the maggots that lived in the corpse ran over his flesh. He was disgusted, the man was evil, the leftovers from the Fall, from when the Serpent was cast from the Garden of Eden and cursed to crawl on his belly. Dead but undead, living off of his bitch, his servant, his food source, Vynzent.

Too long the kiss went on, too long was the warmth taken from the room and from the slave until Vynzent was let go and he fell to the floor, his nails dragging into flesh to remove the maggots, the flesh that came off of Mickail was too much to take and he vomited unto the floor. He felt Mickail grab onto the back of his neck and shove his face down. “Oh Elders…” Vynzent moaned as he felt Mickail let him go, he no longer cried, the tears no longer came to his eyes, he merely dragged himself away from Mickail. He hoped that he wouldn’t be called to fully service the other, there were only so many sexual perversions that one could take before Vynzent could wish to Hell below that the Serpent would kill him.

“Bastard.” He muttered before he stood and ran for the door, ignoring the pain that was in his body from the whip marks, the knife blades, the sexual toys that Mickail and the other man wanted to use on him. So was the life of the Sexual slave.

Vynzent couldn’t stop running, he ran to the town that was near to the mansion. He was Vynzent, the son of Irusan, the king of the cats and Chat De’Argent. He had the ‘ability’ to get wealth, it was attracted to him. He was in truth, an Amur tiger, but the metal collar did not allow him to change, he had no ears, no tail… and he missed those greatly.


“Please…allow me to find someone that can help me.” He whispered as he ran, stumbling before he kept running, pleading to whatever God that believed in him.

A loud shriek resounded through the alley. It was the loud shrieking of metal scraping against the pavement and the soft splattering sounds of blood being forcefully whipped from a living body. It was another day that a young man was caught in a trap and unable to defend himself from the attacks. Whores don't get the ability to call for help, because they got what they deserved, right? The victim opened his eyes and stared blankly at the metal rod that had scarred his poor body. They were gone. Finally the pain had stopped. He could ignore the filth and the death that lingered in that alley. He wasn't feeling anything anymore. Had he really hit such a rock bottom? To let his young body he used as a personal fuck toy. Feeling those filthy hands all over him. Their filthy mouths. Allowing them to invade his body without a fight and feeling the shame when they moaned their sick compliments.

He wished he could wash out this feeling of impurity. But no matter how much he scrubbed, there was nothing left to fall back on. He was wasted life. He picked himself up slowly. Now he was without anything. He had no home, but now he had no money either. Another night sleeping in the streets wouldn't hurt him, but his body starved for nourishment. His long brown hair clung to his bloody skin and was a tangled mess of knots and grime. The unusual blonde that framed his face feather his eyes and worked to cover the bruises. His once bronzed, glowing skin, seemed lifeless and almost neutral in color. His spirit was shattered and it shown in his lack luster violet eyes. His uncanny ability to seduce people had left him with no other option.

He walked slowly back toward the center of the town. Ignoring the glances and looks. He wasn't an uncommon sight, but he hated the disgust that was so apparent. He paid no mind to his direction. He could find a catch anywhere he went. Men were such easy targets. Their perversion could make him rich if he'd had the ability to put himself out in a more vibrant fashion. But he felt too dismal to do more than what was necessary. He didn't want to build a fortune by letting others get their pleasure from him. He had little dignity left, but there was that little.

A body collided with his and he didn't have the strength or reaction to stop him from plummeting to the hard pavement again. He couldn't look up without feeling his shame was apparent. "I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." He said quickly, lifting himself to his feet slowly. His feet were bruised and his knees were sore and bleeding. He'd brought this life upon himself. He deserved whatever he got out of it.

Vynzent ran through the town and heard some of the people go back inside to tell their children that they were to not look outside, that the demon was on the lose again and his owner would be coming back. He turned, his light eyes that couldn’t see very well during the day as he was not used to sunlight, pleaded for someone to hide him, but of course, that would never happen.

He felt someone collide into him and he moved back a bit, he was thin and lanky but still, when one hit him, it was like hitting a brick wall. It took a moment for his fogged mind to register that someone was talking to him. He leaned down to help the man stand and he hissed quietly at the marks that were on the other. “May…I help you?” He asked softly as he was glad that for the most part, his scars were hidden. He shivered in the street as his ear quirked back and he shook slightly before he heard the all too familiar step of the Reclaimer, Xouzeiye. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as the air continued to grow cold. He took a careful hold on the man in front of him. Mickail wouldn’t go for this one, it would seem that he was already broken but still…it was a fearful thought. Ever since Mickail grew fixated on a young sixteen year old named Laeninean, he was afraid that he would continue to bring new ones home, new decorations.

“Please.” He whispered, his voice was hoarse as he tried to overcome the hoarseness in his voice. “You much go inside; he cannot reach you if you are behind closed doors and windows. Do not keep your window open until you reach spring. If he fixates on you…” Vynzent bowed his head to the other; his long hair fell in silky waves around him. “Perhaps, if you need help.” He handed him a bloodied business card, but the blood was his own as it snaked down his arm and dripped to the ground.

“Their names are Occam and Capella, they’ll help you. They are the Angels for this town. If you need a place to stay, to find yourself…then by all means…please.” He said before Xouzeiye, a male in his early thirties with shoulder length brown hair and gold eyes came up to him and took a rough hold on his arm, fixing a leash to his collar. “It was a nice to meet you.” He whispered to the man that had run into him. “Forgive me for running into you.” He said, his voice gradually losing the emotion that he had till he allowed Xouzeiye to lead him away and back to his sunless prison.

He sighed as Xouzeiye looked back at him, he thought back to the man that he ran into. A small smile crossed his face. He hoped that he got help, no one deserved to be treated like they had no worth and it was apparent, he hoped that he got better. He probably looked wonderful when he smiled.

Aries stared down at the card. He figured he was beyond help. What good could come of fixing himself if he had no chance of redeeming the vision people had in their mind of him. His body hurt, but his soul hurt worse. He was a misery in the very movements the other man had had. He couldn't explain it, but there was a feeling he got from that man that he knew all too well in himself.

He glared down at the words on the card. He could barely read. He wasn’t educated, but he could relate street names and numbers by reference of the shapes the letter came in. He knew that street.

He didn't really think about it as he let his feet take him to that place. He didn't fear being in the open. If someone took him he didn't think he would care. No one would want him enough to take him and he knew that. He held his arms close to his body. He was down to ragged clothing. Perhaps, if nothing else, he needed to find this place just so he could have warmth even if only for one night. Any wrath at all would feel like a blessing to his cold body.

He wondered about that man. He was the one the town’s people looked down upon worse than he. He knew that pain. Being unwanted by anyone but the sick bastards that you wouldn't want to be with if you could help it. But Aries could help it. And that's what made him such a disgrace by comparison. "I guess that's the place I'm supposed to go..." He muttered to himself, wondering why the hell he would take a stranger's word for anything.

He wondered to himself, "Am I supposed to knock or what?" He felt stupid just standing there. What was he supposed to say? "This is stupid." He shook his head and turned to walk away.

“Wait…don’t go.” A voice rang out, it wasn’t sweet or lyrical, and it was merely masculine. A man walked from the house and held his hand out. “Occam…nice to meet you.” He said amicably. “I see that Vynzent sent you to us.” He said as he motioned towards the card that was in Aries’ hand, “I smelt his blood on it.” That was his explanation before he looked over his shoulder. “Capella, come here please.” He called and his lover walked from the house.

Delicate, that was what the man was, but it was clear who held the reins in the relationship. Tall, with a willowy grace that spoke of a race that was like an elf but no sharpened ears or Lord of the Rings or R.A. Salvatore fetish. His voice was the lyrical one as he held his hand out and spoke: “As Occam said, it is most definitely a pleasure to see you. Please…won’t you come inside?” He asked as he beckoned with one hand to their home. “Make yourself at home.” He said with a laugh.

The interior was lovely as the exterior was more like a normal home for their town. It was light and airy, high vaulted ceilings, arched doorways, but not an open window in sight. “Please, sit where you like, Occam was just going to be finishing making dinner.” He said as Occam bent over to brush a kiss over his lover’s cheek.

Capella turned to Aries with a smile that was soft and welcoming before he started to speak. “Doesn’t worry about your past, we all have them. My question is, do you want this place for only one night or do you want it for however long you need it to get you back on your feet?” He asked simply before he inclined his head back and smiled. “So what did you think of Vynzent?” He said with a smile and laugh before Occam brought drinks back in for them.

“Dinner will be in a little while.” He said as he sat down and allowed his guest to think of what he wanted to do.

"I'm not sure why I'm here..." Aries answered after a long pause. He had been distracted by the house. It was more beautiful than he could have even imagined. He'd never been in a house like that. He was more familiar with the floor than anything, if he ever did end up in the house of his 'customer'. "I don't usually follow instructions of people I happen to meet at a passing glance." He explained. He usually didn't listen to people he'd been 'aquainted' to many times. He did whatever kept him alive for the time, sometimes wondering why he bothered.

"His name was Vynzent? I don't think he told me his name..or I don't remember...but he mentioned yours. That and this card...that's why I'm here...you know that already of course." He said softly. He wasn't accustomed to the light of the room and it was bothering him. He kept his eyes low and avoided the gaze of others while he was in town, here was no different. He had to think for a long time as to what he wanted to do. He hated the idea of people 'taking him in'. He wasn't so completely helpless that he couldn't survive on the streets. He had done well before that. Well...he'd done it...not necessarily 'well'.

"I don't know what I will do." He finally answered honestly. He didn't expect them to aid him. He didn't lie to himself, he came here originally seeking a warm place to crash for the cold night that was expected. He'd heard the talk of the town and how cold it would get overnight. He hadn't thought of how hungry he would be once he got there. He was used to feeling starved. But it was especially intense, now that he was not chilled to the bone. "I don't want to impose upon you." He muttered and fiddled with his bruised hands. For a brief microscopic second, he considered asking them if he could clean up. But his pride in his ability to care for himself, even as much as he failed at that job, wouldn't allow him to actually speak the words.

"My name is Aries..." He said suddenly. Realizing he'd never introduced him. "Aries Reon."