Necrophilia Variations -- with Drag

[TeaPlease]

 

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Shall we Dance?

 

 

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fingers had been working at the cracks and spaces in his wall for near about an hour now. Focused on the task at hand- quite literally- he proceeded, uncaring for the cuts and scratches that came to the tips of the digits. Once the young man had finally managed to dislodge one slab of stones, the others came way easily. The stench that came to his nose was one of unfamiliarity and not distinctly one to put him queasy. The new air that leaked through the now small space created by the displaced stones had a faint tint of color; the foggy wisps weren’t easy to spot unless one was willing to notice.

 

The Gravekeeper peered his head into the self-made entrance. Even his eyes, highly trained to darkness, could not quite make out everything that lay before him.

 

Although he was aware of the misgivings his caretakers had in reference to the area, his curiosity calmed his usual devotion to their word. Taking a moss-eaten jacket (courtesy of Abuelo) and a lantern, as well, he began his slow descent into the giant inkblot restrained by walls of dirt and rock. It was obvious it would be a long walk to find the very ground floor of the place beyond the tomb. The Grave keeper prepared himself for a long walk, holding the lantern above his head and making his way down, the ground becoming more solidified the farther he went. The cracked, aged walkway beneath his feet became to gather a sort of strength, as if it had been built but a year ago, if anything.

 

Pausing to shiver and pull the jacket around his form closer, he took a moment to observe his surroundings.

 

It seemed quite important. This tomb could well be host to bodies. But then, why had he heard nothing?

 

Spirits usually ventured out to greet him, their presence felt in his mind and his body, a faint ghosting over the skin. But there was no sense of disturbance he could feel or sense. It was a tomb devoid of nothing. And that was very odd indeed.

 

The Gravekeeper considered this, pausing in his steps. Maybe he could just continue exploring the place and keep storage if he found any crypts or open spaces. Still, it felt so wrong to him, to disrespect this ground meant for someone else other than him or any clutter he may have.

 

All that permeated the darkness now was the scent of his own body, blood pulsing through and heart beating at an idle pace as the young continued to the ball that would eventually await him...

[Drag]

The evening sky - that ebony canvas holding pinpricks of stars and moon in its vast expanse of comforting darkness - was in his flickering dreams. Always the night. But even that dream was beginning to fade, stolen away by so much passing time, like the dreams he used to have of the humans that had once upon a time paraded around him.

 

Humans . Living, breathing stars. Light and vitality. Sometimes his mind’s eye could almost remember the contours of a face or a body. Sometimes his ears fooled him into thinking a song was playing somewhere far away, or that a voice was calling him, although he owned no true name. Names, like life, were just borrowed for a time, then surrendered.

 

Dreams…

 

The way water always broke apart the sky when he’d toss a stone into the glassy, calm lake…the crackle of a fire and…scent of food...smoke. Dancing. Laughter...desire. Another tease of a dream.

 

He didn’t bother to open his eyes anymore, because here, in this dark sepulcher, there was nothing. Stale emptiness as the tiny pulses of energy from earthworms and other subterranean invertebrates and lesser creatures barely kept him from fading and becoming part of the stone he rested on, his husk melting into part and particle. Little more than dust.

 

Maybe it would be better to let go. Embrace the freedom and the prison of immortality and just…

 

Something was different. No, someone. Someone was near.

 

Closer.

 

Or maybe this is just another taste of a dream. Yes, just a dream. just a dream...just a...dream. Another picture show - nothing more - and soon it would drift away, like names and faces and stars...

[TeaPlease]

The air shifted. It was gathered in one area, and that meant not only a solid structure, but most likely a holding room. Stopping yet again to identify his whereabouts, the young man frowned to himself. What a time had passed. It could quite possibly have been hours since he ventured down into this secret hideaway. He would leave soon. After this.

 

The lantern was dimming. A countdown for the time he had left in this place.

 

With a quickened pace, he set about on his final legs and felt the sudden thickening of atmosphere. The archway was none that he'd ever seen before nor the set of symbols that decorated it. Peering inside, he let his hopes stray away from the dimming flames. This was more than he'd ever hoped to discover. Ever.. wanted to discover, at that point. This wasn't a normal tomb. And he could see the branching ways off that lead to other rooms, more secrets held, almost beckoning for him to give in.

 

But he didn't.

 

There were no records of this place. Not a hint to its existence. He'd pored over documents and records, learning about the locations of graves, burial vaults and more. But this place hadn't been mentioned. So many things were apart of his home, his history. The Gravekeeper couldn't even sense any spirits. How could such elaborate casings hold nothing? The whole space was just.. off. Not wrong, but off. After admiring the area for a moment longer, the young man turned to left.

 

A distinct thump came to his ears. The ground above him shook, and he winced as the sound of music drifted through the crypts and walkways to settle. Even muffled the Keeper could hear the jarring screeches of manufactured noises, gears turning in the sounds with something guttural sounding. Damn dancers. Glaring bitterly up to the high ceiling, he began to leave-

 

and felt it, finally.

 

The spark of awareness. Spirit. But it was so entirely off from all he'd felt with his community, his family, that the man lingered a moment to try and place it. It was off. Not fresh, at all, but not old like Abuelo or Hermit further in the wood. It was beyond ancient. Something he had really never considered before. The Gravekeeper didn't know things older than Hermit existed. Or Abuelo. Or even Ms. (and Ms. was very, very old.)

 

But there was no dating, no names, no identity at all. And he was sure it was the same for the other, connected rooms. Why was that? How could it be? Absorbed by his own reflections, he found himself looking at the tomb again with far-off eyes.

 

A crack had appeared. Oh. The dancing had gotten to them, it seemed. Never wake the dead with dancing. Especially on graves.

[Drag]

The numbness of everything: body, mind; even the scraps of his unfinished soul. It’s time, he thought to himself as he filled his lungs for the last time with the stagnant tomb air he hadn’t breathed in so long he’d forgotten the taste. But this time the air held the slightest bite of smoke and lamp fuel. Fire.

 

A jolt of memory:

 

“Monster!” Children hurled fist-sized rocks at him and men held their crying wives. “Diablo! Devil! Murderer!”

He laughed at them and gnashed his teeth. Laughed as the fire covered his vision, making everything on the other side seem red. Or maybe that was the blood washing into his eyes from the pattern of slashes to the flesh of his skull that the white-robed Holy Man had given him after binding him with an incantation said in a language he’d never heard.

 

Before his throat and mouth burned away, he turned his gaze to the Holy Man and mouthed the words, “You only give me more life through your hate.”

Vibrations. Rhythmic pounding in the stone around him. Music? He quickly exhaled the breath he’d just taken so he could drag more of this energy into himself. More memories awakening..

 

“Play another song for me and I’ll dance for you. No one’s at the docks this late at night. My father doesn’t know you’ve set anchor and have come back to town.”

The coy look from sea green eyes as alluring as the archipelago he’d sailed around not long ago on the way to this tiny village made him pause and grin. Moments like this, the quick beat of a pulse and a hammering heart, could easily make him forget he wasn’t human. “My sweet one, if I play for you…”

 

A heartbeat. He could hear it faintly - feel it even through all the inches of symbol-engraved stone that bound him. It wasn't fast like a nervous rabbits, but the other vibrations happening around him made it hard to tell the tempo for sure. Regardless, someone had found what was never meant to be found in these catacombs long forgotten beneath the necropolis.

 

Closer. Come closer.

He tried to move his mouth to form the words that were in his mind, but he couldn’t remember how. Moving creaking joints and stubborn bones slowly, he pressed the palm of his hand to the side of his tomb, sending out a small wave of energy through the stone.

Closer...

[TeaPlease]

It kept at him, the gnawing of curiosity. The need to have questions answered. He'd drifted toward the tomb, as the pounding kept on and increased. Something was pulling at him and the flare of energy only hardened the resolve in his mind; he needed to quench just a little bit more of his head and then he would leave. This time, for good.

 

Fingers ghosting over the designs carved into the stone tomb, his eyes fell upon the crack of darkness. Should he? No. It was wrong and it was bad. Spirits shouldn't be able to move such heavy things. Spirits shouldn't lie so dormant for long periods of time. Stepping back from temptation, the grating of stone caught his ears. Swiveling around, the Gravekeeper blanched as he saw the rise of a form from a distance in the other room. Even in the dark, the displacement of such ink couldn't be missed. More sounded, far-off and echoed underground.

 

For a moment, he contemplated his options.

 

Slowly, his feet began to go back until his toes were the only things past the archway. And then his lamp went out. Spitting an obscenity the young man backpedaled further and crouched down to try and fumble for the firesticks he'd kept in the pocket of the jacket.

 

He found there was a hole there.

 

Going on memory, the slow, crawling ascension upward would take long. Blind-running could lead him to more mysteries and perhaps his own upgrade to the spirit form. So what was he to do, but stay crouched and hoping for any persons to disregard his form? Well, he could do it while curled up, that's what.

[Drag]

Finally the human was close enough that he could hear the sound of breathing, other than his own, and that heart was beating a little faster than it should have. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when light winked inside the darkness of his tomb and fingertips moved over the grit-smooth surface, finding a fracture in the stone. It was a quiet noise, but better than all the music in the world.

 

He closed his eyes and began to stretch his body, slowly preparing to embrace freedom once more. It wouldn’t be long before he could take what he needed from …

 

No. He froze when he heard the heartbeat moving away - felt the electric pulses of life separating itself from him. No…no! He clenched his jaw in frustration. Free me!

Just then he sensed something new. Something not too far off – a different form. He wondered is that was what was making the human’s pulse he was studying quicken. Was there danger nearby?

 

A low growl began in the back of his throat, rattling like an old bone chime. Past the dry-as-parchment confines of his throat, he rasped the words, “Nothing left in this place of forgetting is more dangerous than me.”

 

Focusing his strength, he pressed hard on the place where lamp light had barely managed to find a way inside his encasement. He pushed and tested until he felt the stone lid begin to separate from the tomb sides. Slowly he slid the lid to the side, gripped the edges of the stone, and stood to face whatever the world had become since he’d seen it last. But there was no light.

 

Closing his eyes, he stood to his full height and really listened to the music, dancing and laughter somewhere overhead. Humanity, you are my Heaven and my Hell. As he listened, he began rubbing his palms together, drawing out enough light from deep within himself so that it slightly illuminated the room with a faint bluish glow. He looked down at the light and smiled slightly...

 

 

 

..After a few moments he let the glow fade and began to walk away from the crypt that had once held him, determined to find whatever manifestation had scared the curious human away.

[TeaPlease]

His eyes were having trouble adjusting in his fear-clouded mind. Convincing himself that these were normal spirits and that no terror should plague him was impossible. Highly unneeded, at that. Senses never lied and these new being were formidable, though enigmatic, forces. The Grave-keeper had hoped that their awakening would be a slower affair. Enough to leave him with a good time to feel his way up and go hide away in another spot. But it seemed that once one was awake the other soon followed suit.

 

A chill ran down his spine and he felt his shoulders hunch in a protective manner, to try and make himself smaller. That voice held ages of disuse quite obviously. He supposed they all would. Just like that, the noises began as more people followed suit.

 

One clunk, two crash, three thumps- four.

 

The nearest one, of the tomb he'd just exited, made him twitch from mild surprise. Flinching back the Gravekeeper tried to keep himself hidden away from the outstretch of light. Upon listening though he could tell the man was heading toward the other chamber. Relived, the young man made his way forward on hands and knees, peeking at the confrontation with the tall, hooded figure. With worn robes and thin hair, the Gravekeeper supposed this individual was one of some sort of... power. It wasn't as if he'd stay and find out.

 

As the two creatures confronted each other, the Keeper began to feel his way around and climb up the walkway. Slow and steady would not win this race. Hopefully, other creatures could.

[Drag]

A delicious spark of fear from somewhere close chased up his spine, spreading out to his arms, legs, fingers and toes. He shivered at the nearly electrifying sensation that he’d missed for so long. It seemed the curious human male had not gone far after all. He could sense him even more without the slabs of stone, or fading symbols the Holy Man had carved into the rock ages ago, obstructing him.

 

Reaching up, he traced his fingers over his forehead to see if he could still feel the marking the Holy Man had gouged into his skull, but they were gone. There was nothing left to shackle him to this place and soon the night would be his again. But first he had a decision to make.

 

He turned his head in the direction of the human, his crimson eyes flashing slightly in the darkness with excitement. There was something…different about the energy he found there. Then again he’d starved for so long on nothing more than minuscule invertebrates that even a rat might seem a feast. He licked his lips, ready to move in that direction, then stopped when he remembered the newly awoken.

 

Who was it that disrupted a potentially fine feeding? He growled again and turned away from the frightened male. If he wanted to, he knew he could easily find him later and sate himself on the man's life force. He headed into the chamber where the other had risen, more than ready to tangle with the being. He noticed the quiet sounds of the human as he retreated, clearly unnerved by the situation. He wasn’t concerned – no one would believe the male’s stories if he told them the dead had risen - they’d call him a lunatic. A madman.

 

Clenching and releasing his fists, he focused his wandering thoughts back on hooded figure before him and said in his still low, raspy voice, “Make yourself known to me.”

[TeaPlease]

With practiced quiet, he began to creep closer- just a shuffle back- to listen to the exchange. His mind created the scene and placed the two figures confronting one another. Faintly, he managed to place the differentiation between the two spirits and closed his eyes to focus on them more. The sound of another voice reached his ears. Quite different from the rasp of the newly awakened creature, this one was faint and slightly carrying. It reminded him faintly of an amplified whisper.

 

"I am already known to you. Reach back into your memories." The rustling of fabric; the hooded figure had a severe face in contrast to his soft voice. "The others are waking, and I think that a much needed stretch is in order." The man licked his teeth and looked upward to the ceiling, as if trying to burn holes into the ground and drag the dancing humans underneath. It was obvious that if he didn't have so much restraint there would already be saliva pooling onto the floor. "There's one here already, isn't there? I can smell him."

 

At this, the Gravekeeper decided that his presence would no longer be needed. Stumbling and feeling his way up the slope he let his fingers graze against the thin walkway. Breathing a sigh of relief at finally finding a firestick- dirty, yes, but still dry enough to spark- he let it light his way. Surveying the ground, the young man quickly collected the other fallen ones and let them light his way.

 

The lamp was too risky at this point. Once he gained some distance, yes. Oh but how would he patch up the hole in the wall? The Gravekeeper could only hope the creatures were lost in their own crypts.

 

Meanwhile, below still, the figure had inched past his comrade to look up the steps. His lips were struggling to make a smile. "You hunger, too.. don't you? There might be a feast waiting above," he wheezed.

[Drag]

The voice of the other sounded familiar, but he couldn’t…place it. Myriad scenes flipped through his mind; eons of peace and war, famine and plenty. Life. Death. A rich tapestry of existence, but the one silver thread of recognition simply wasn’t there. Not yet anyway. He moved closer and studied his comrade that spoke of tempting things involving the merry-makers above, although talk of that one enigmatic human bothered him.

 

Signaling with a tilt of his head in the direction the human had gone, he ground out through his clenched teeth, “Leave that one. He belongs to me.” The crackling, blue energy at his fingertips surprised him and he doused it quickly.

 

Whether what he'd said was fact or fiction he had no idea, but a deep rage continued licking through his veins at the idea of that human’s soul being devoured as if he was nothing more than common swine. Some life forces needed to be savored properly, life fine wine, not swallowed down like cheap ale.

 

“If you know me, you know I’ll accept nothing other than full compliance in this.” Not waiting for an answer, he began moving up the stone carved steps, keeping awareness at his back in case the other decided to attack. The further up he traveled, the less heavy and damp the air felt as it moved past his skin.

How long has it been since I’ve seen the surface world? He wondered to himself. A thousand years since I felt the rain on my face and grass at my feet? Ten thousand? He thought again of the small village he’d remembered earlier…thought of the power of the crashing waves at the edge of the ocean he’d once sailed across. Thought of the one who danced for him..

 

Hunger for life tackled him at that moment and he clutched his gut. Moving faster he didn’t know how much longer he could wait..but he would if he had to. He’d been caught once and imprisoned for his greed before. Never again.

[TeaPlease]

With something equivalent to a sneer, the robed figure paused in his advances and fell back. Although his stomach churned with excitement and hunger the man still knew and had common sense. He wouldn’t be crossing the other’s words anytime soon. “Yes, sir,” he wheezed. Sleeping bodies soon drifted forward- their dress was all varied, but their expressions reflected the same hunger and desire felt throughout the group. Whispers and growls of the feast above circled.

 

It was time to leave. Though they were a collection of different egos and powers, an established hierarchy seemed to fit itself back together like the gears to clockwork. Soon things- when stretched- would run smoothly again. And when the top began to walk, the order followed. The crypt’s slow outpour of history was someone ways below the frantic efforts and attempts to create a blockade.

 

The Gravekeeper had hurriedly alerted his caretakers, but they couldn’t do much of anything. The size of the dancing party had only grown, and split between shooing them away and preventing the creatures from emerging, his nerves were slightly pinched at the moment. Eventually, he thought it best to try and persuade the group to leave and stop their partying ways. And by persuade, it was mostly emerge with legends and gossip surrounding his person to scare them off. It did work; the ballsy youths and others had eventually left, leaving broken bottles and the remains of cigarette butts peppered in the ground.

 

Picking up the litter and disposing of trash was a quick matter. Already he could feel the bodies coming closer to the surface. Returning to his room in a huff, he searched around for something to hold the bricks together now. But it had already been weak; there was no way he could stop the creatures if they truly did try to come up.

 

All the Gravekeeper did, in his last efforts, was to alert the community of the arrival of the mysterious, strange individuals and to be safe. Taking up his lantern and holding the jacket around his form together, the young man waited, lips pursed as he steadied himself. His duty was to protect the graveyard and handle anything that posed trouble to it and its inhabitants. If these creatures fell into anything that threatened his home, the man was prepared to do what was needed.

[Drag]

“How many stars do you think are in the sky tonight? Do you think there are as many fish in the sea as there are stars?”

 

He listened to that voice. Just listened and nothing more. The one next to him was too ill to take from now. She would be dead soon, like the others, and her frail, bone-thin body would become the sand they walked across and the wind that moved the waves. Maybe sometime in the far distant future, once this world ceased to be, she would become part of the stars she was now pointing at, or a comet shooting across the galaxy.

 

“My father thinks I shouldn’t talk to you, you know.” They had to stop walking when she began coughing hard again. “He says I shouldn’t trust foreigners and he doesn’t like your eyes.”

 

He slowly turned his gaze to meet hers. “What do you think?” When her wracking coughing ebbed he watched her smile and was reminded again of how he’d found her - such radiant light in just her smile. Noticing his stare, she blushed, turned away, lifted the hems her skirts and stepped out into the dark sea. “I think my father takes his position as Holy Man far too seriously. Your eyes are beautiful, like garnets and fire.”

 

The water embraced her like he wished he could, but if he touched her now all he would leave behind would be a lifeless husk. He’d find someone else later - someone from the alleyway who would probably taste cheap and carry the scent of a hundred others. Someone no one would miss if he lost control and took everything.

 

From the corner of his eye he saw dark shapes moving swiftly under the water. He felt them then – felt their rabid hunger. They were just like him, but their souls were even less complete than his own, so they were less discriminate. “Get out! Get out of the water now!” She screamed as he raced to where she was. He dove into the inky, cold darkness, but they already had hold of her and were pulling her out into deeper water, tearing her spirit to shreds. Sensing his approach they fled, but not before stealing her last breath.

 

When he reached her he took her limp, floating body up into his arms, disgusted with himself and those who were nothing more than feral animals. Leaning over, he pressed his mouth to hers and tried to breathe air into her, but her lungs were filled with too much water. Pulling her quickly to shore and laying her down in the sand, he tore open her bodice and set his palm to the center of her chest. He closed his eyes as his hand began to crackle with energy and light, and he sent jolt after jolt into her heart, but it was too late. For a second her eyelids fluttered, but never fully opened. There was nothing left within her soul, so her body had nothing to live for.

 

Driving his fists into the sand he bellowed out his rage. At that moment someone from the village, who had heard the screaming from earlier, happened on the scene. “What is this about?” She surveyed the scene. Her eyes grew wide and she set her hand over her heart as she backed slowly away. “What. Have. You. Done?! Murderer!”

 

---

 

Slowing his ascent as more memories came to light, he once again ran his fingertips over the flesh at the front of his skull, like he had earlier. The gouges made by the Holy Man were definitely gone, just like his exquisite daughter. He wished he could remember the name she used to call him, but names were such fleeting things. There truly was nothing holding him here, and…nothing holding back anything else long buried in the oubliette darkness. In fact he could sense them now.

 

More memories awakening...

 

After the village woman ran to get help, he left the body of the Holy Man’s daughter on the shore and tracked down those responsible for taking her from him. Within an ancient rock cave carved into the cliff at the waters edge he wasn't sure how many he ripped apart until he found the robed one who began to call him “Sir”, but there were many. The battle had left them all weak, including himself. Weak enough that when the villagers finally tracked them down, they were able to capture them and…

 

Snarling, he shook his head and braced his hands on the walls at his sides to keep himself from keeling over as he fought past a wave of crashing hunger that nearly brought him to his knees. But it wasn’t just his own he felt now. It was a collective hunger of all those entombed. How many were buried here? Two dozen? Three? A hundred starving husks craving sustenance?

 

The music and dancing above had stopped, but there was still the nearly overwhelming temptation to feast. Control. Show no weakness. Slowly turning, he moved back down the steps to confront the robed one who he had beaten into submission during their confrontation long ago. Did the sneering bastard have an agenda here? Was the soul energy of the curious human so tempting that it had actually awoken not just himself, but an entire fleet of undead? Before setting foot on the surface he needed answers. He wondered if the human himself knew anything.

[TeaPlease]

Others moved on. The winding maze of roadways and thin cracks to slip past caused brief confusion. The group, as a whole, buzzed with contemplation of what would be the right way. The quickest, the surest, the one that would lead to their desires. The collective hunger hit others differently. Some individuals were gnawing on their own fingers and worn clothing with others talking to relieve the stress. The robed man was the mix of the two as he spread his ideas of overtaking the world that so belonged to them. Of feasting and truly building up their rightful positions amongst mere mortals.

 

Feeling his comrade approach, he turned with blood on his lips from words just spoken. "You have remembered?" he murmured with arms crossed behind his back. It seemed he had been expecting the long-coming revelation. Fully turning away to give his attention to the red-eyed man, a cruel look twisted his features. "If you are wanting a killing, let it be when we reach our destination, sir. I'd like to have made an accomplishment on the part of leaving this dreaded place."

 

Voices around him stirred up in agreement. Already the robed man had gained a small following from his words of rebellion and chaos. Setting a hand on the others shoulder, he began to lead him back up, voice dropped to keep their conversation more private amongst the gathered. "What is it you want, sir? I'm here to carry out your bidding and answer any and all questions." As a collective mass, the risen were nearing the wall of the Gravekeeper's quarters. The scent of him and others lingered amongst the air now, coming in due to the wind that whispered through cracks in the stone and brick.

 

Spirits held their own special markings, and it showed now. Or rather was more apparent in scent.

[Drag]

While he took note of the rogues who might cause problems later, was surprised when the robed man casually set his hand on his shoulder as if they weren’t enemies. The thought crept into his mind that moments ago maybe he’d been recalling nothing more than a collection of memories spliced together by too much passing time. But still, the woman who’d died on the beach had been special to him…or had it been a man he’d tried to breathe life into? The son of a shaman? So many faces. So many souls - so much…hunger.

 

As he allowed himself to be lead upward again, in an equally low tone he voiced the question the robe one just asked him. “What do I want?” Feeling distracted by the same amount of starvation as the others, he ran his hand along the wall as they passed. Under his fingertips he could almost imagine the human’s heart fluttering, teasing, tormenting vitality. “You know what I want.” He curled his fingers in so the nails scratched along the stone as he walked.

 

He could sense the trails of other humans, but sub-standard, dull souls wouldn’t be enough tonight. Breathing deep to catch the scents lingering in the moist evening air, and the nearly intoxicating scent of his prey, it was easy to forget control. Only animals think of what sustains them as “prey”. He ran his fingers, which felt more like claws, through his long, dark hair, that was coming undone from the tie that held it at the nape of his neck. More of the human’s scent and spirit essence made their way to the primitive areas his brain. He turned to the robed one and growled, “You will search elsewhere for what you need. As I said, this one is mine.”

 

Not thinking or caring anymore what would happened next, driven by hunger and other undefinable urges, he found the entryway to the place where the human was sheltered. Pressing on the door, he listened to the squeak of the hinges for a second, then stepped slowly inside. Immediately his eyes were drawn to a lantern’s glow, then they traced over to the human who clutched a thin jacket close around his form as if he trusted it to protect him from more than just a chill. Doubtlessly he knew something was happening, which was surprising since most humans were blind to things beyond their simple world. Blind to soul light and death. Fascinating.

 

He stepped closer and studied the human. Short, dark hair and pale skin - eyes the color of green moss and earth shining in the fire light…

[TeaPlease]

Waiting was what they had all done, for so very long. But being free of the restraints of time had made the robed man impatient. He gave a short nod in return to acknowledge the existence of the creature's words. His own desires needed to be addressed and by this time, they'd all caught on to the scent that awaited them. Some were nearly tormented by it and others spurred into even more ravenous states. People drifted off to search for the duller scents- easy pickings- following their noses to where other trails and paths would lead.

 

The robed man merely growled but kept his obedience. Another day- another night. He, too, separated from the pack off in search for the cheaper stuff.

 

A good number of the individuals seemed to recognize power or was bound by obedience, like the robed figure. They drifted behind the man with grim frowns and hungry eyes. But the Gravekeeper met it all evenly. Raising the lamp to see their features closer, he held it there, and slowly reset it to the previous position. All of them were so beautiful. Different from the common, vulgar, weak licentious crowd that walked around. But they were not of the graves; from the tombs, from ancient and whispered secrets.

 

Questions buzzed in his head. So many things to say...

 

As his manners would guide him, and his head would insist, the young man opened his mouth and spoke. "I hope your rest was well." The Keeper swallowed, and looked to the group, beyond and knowing what was happening. "But I think it would be best.. for you to go back." His throat was constricting with each word, voice hoarse from disuse. Speaking was not something he had to do often, as he communicated with the spirits in different ways that did not include vocal-usage.

 

Clearing his throat to shake off the cobwebs of disuse, he rubbed it. "I can always accompany you back."

[Drag]

He didn’t have to turn his head to know the robed one and others were wisely moving away from the shelter he now stood within. He could feel it. It was also reflected in the dark eyes of the man he now watched intently. He was once more surprised by the human when he raised a lantern to get a better look at the undead – his expression holding awe, rather than fear or shock. Who are you that you choose to stand and…and be transfixed, rather than cower at a sight most men would find horrifying?

 

Still keeping part of his attention on those departing, while also waiting until the young man’s eyes were back on him again, he was about ask the question out loud when he was cut off by words coming from a throat that seemed as unused to conversation as his own. He listened intently to that voice. Strange one indeed. Does he not normally speak to his own kind? And…what is this? He greets me as if speaking with the risen is something he does regularly, then he tells me he thinks it best I go and rest. How…amusing. He couldn’t hold back the slow grin at the “accompany back” part.

 

He watched the human rub at his throat and it made him aware of his own parchment-like gullet. He swallowed dryly. “Young one,” he said quietly as he stepped closer into the glow cast by the lantern. The closer he got the more of the human’s subtle aura he could absorb into himself - not enough to cause the other to notice; just enough to get more of a feel for the delicacy standing before him. “I cannot do that so easily. Understand that I’ve been asleep for longer than you can imagine - most likely thrice the lifetime of you and your great-great grandparents combined.” He hid his hands in the sleeves of his robes, feeling the tingling beginning at the tips of his nails. Control! Do not destroy this brave soul because you simply hunger. “You see, I am awake now and that’s how I will stay.” Find out more..

 

Closer still he moved, just to see what the male would do. Would he run? Would he stand his ground? “Tell me your name, brave one.”

[TeaPlease]

Though the expression of the man did not give off anything that would help him, the Keeper found himself further dismayed by the absence of thought. There was no buzzing in his ear to alert him of the mental process. No signs of pondering. Usually the young man could tell when people were thinking- if he wanted to, at least. There was something about the unspoken language of his family that helped him at least catch snippets of the "mood" of other thoughts. But this- this was dead air. He told himself not to fret, though. This was no time to be obvious with his own emotions. Not that he really ever was.

 

Remaining still, the Gravekeeper listened to the apparent leader. His respectful air put off the gathered group of souls. Without the squirm of activity, of comfort or even distress, getting a read on the boy was hard. And so they were both caught in the situation of unknowing and weariness. These games dragging on with pleasantries and questions only hinted at the prospect of this human being alive by the end of it.

 

And that would not do, now would it? However, they did not speak up, only shifting. It was surprising to see the young man's responses.

 

Like now. The Gravekeeper reciprocated the action, stepping up as well as if to meet the man. His face held one of thought. "I don't have a name. But my title is The Gravekeeper. And, by extension, I think that is my name. And what is your name?" the boy asked in response.

[Drag]

Lion-heart or fool. He couldn’t make up his mind which one the human who had just stepped forward was. Regardless, he’d hoped the other would stand tall rather than shrink back – demonstrate courage that matched the strength he sensed within.

 

“The Gravekeeper.” He nodded slightly, weighing the name. “Nameless keeper of the graves.” After holding the human’s gaze a few more moments, he turned his back to him, walked to the entryway he’d stepped through moments ago and looked out over the necropolis.

 

Surrounded by wrought iron, stone tombs, pale in the moonlight, jutted upward as if reaching for Heaven. Marble angels with permanently folded wings looked down from stands, their carved expressions somehow holding both infinite sorrow and immaculate joy. The sound of cricket bows and scuffling movements and clicking teeth of the hungry filled his ears. The night smelled like freedom and death. There was no moon tonight, even when the clouds high above moved apart and went their separate ways, driven by the slight breeze.

 

Turning back to Gravekeeper, he answered his question honestly. “I’ve been known by many names, but have held on to none. It seems lack of a true name is something we share.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the scents from the outside and the inside of Gravekeeper’s lodgings fill his lungs, then he exhaled slowly. Freedom was a drug as fine as the soul standing before him. Keeping his eyes closed, he murmured, “But it seems now it’s my turn to offer you something to call me by.”

 

Opening his eyes, he stepped back into the circle glow of the lamp, closing in on the human’s personal space. “Shouldn’t it be that the one who awakened me be the one to give me a name?” Closer. “Not like I’m to be your pet or the like, but I’m curious to know what your answer would be.” He cocked his head to the side waiting, trying to ignore the thrumming vein beating at the side of the male’s throat.

So. Much. Life. Nameless one. Keeper of the Graves. Such irony that he who watches over Death overflows with so much vitality...

[TeaPlease]

A breath he was not aware of holding suddenly made its presence clear. With the man's back turned, the boy was left to bolster some of his own weakening walls. He had never felt more as one with his room. Broke things replaced to lead to other depths. Letting them in and out.

 

Although he wanted nothing more than to tear his eyes away from the figures looming around, to block the crunching and slurping and sighs and chuckles of the risen, the Gravekeeper kept strong.

 

It felt like the worst invasion. Strangers crawling about the graves, leaving imprints in ground and gravel. Abuelo was probably brandishing a sword, swearing up and down and ready to attack, barely being held back by Mirs. Margarie. And his caretakers were probably in their own shelter with frowns and dismay. The whole community had more or less sunk into their homes with locked doors and closed windows.

 

The tug of reality came with the leader's voice. He only made out the gist of what he said. He, too, did not have a true name. The Keeper almost expected it; something so ancient must have been through an arsenal of the flimsy things.

 

Unfazed by the close proximity of the man, the Gravekeeper shook his head quite sternly. "You're your own being. You choose a name- if you want one. Why add to a dump of soon to be forgotten words that are to hold your identity?" That required more words. He licked his lips and felt himself yearning for something to communicate as he was used to.

[Drag]

Half anticipating what the seemingly fearless human would say, he had already begun running through the languages he remembered and the names he’d been called before. “Murder” and “Devil” had been the last.

 

“Diablo,” he growled under his breath while slowly shaking his head. No, those hadn’t been true names then and they wouldn’t work now. The memory of fire leaping and at his chest, neck and face while rocks stung his body began to surface again, but he pushed it down. There was no Holy Man here any longer - no screaming villagers hurling vile names at him - just a harmless, scrawny human who stood his ground and licked his lips as if he had more to say, but couldn’t figure out how.

 

Assuming Latin still existed to mankind, since he and Gravekeeper were speaking a derivative of it now, his mind landed on the right name. “Origo,” he said outloud. In the root language the word meant “beginning” and it fit for many different reasons. “‘Origo’ will be my name for now, Gravekeeper, until you die and turn to dust and dreams, taking the memory of that name with you.”

 

Origo. He needed to remember to think of himself by that name for now. The more he thought of it though, the more liked it and might carry it beyond the life of this mortal. His attention fully back on the human, who had yet to cower, Origo wondered what he was thinking.

 

The electric sensation at his fingertips, which had never fully left like it usually did, pulsed, matching Gravekeeper’s heartbeat. Reaching for the sleeve of his robe, Origo raised his arm and slid the fabric away from his uplifted hand to reveal the bluish, throbbing light. After watching the light play, he pointed his index finger at the male’s chest.

 

“Gravekeeper, answer me this. Why are you here in this place of the dead and forgotten? Do you understand there are things that could harm you here? Things that could devour you whole, or fragment by fragment, until you’re crying for it all to end?” He grinned, letting a small amount of energy slip away from his hand so it ghosted over the human's skin. "Why do you not run from me or from the ones who walk snarling hungrily past your door?"

[TeaPlease]

His ears caught on to the word, and the Gravekeeper could only imagine what that was in reference to. Probably the man himself. On the subject of names- given or otherwise- it would only make sense for his mind to flick back to his history. What his history held though, the young man was not to know and probably would never fully understand.

 

Half-expecting an eruption of emotion from the subject, the Gravekeeper thought to ready himself for it. But it didn't seem likely to come. Not yet. So he remained quiet and listened still. It was as he was used to after all; people forgot about silence and only filled it up with chatter.

 

Origo. The man couldn't be a complete narcissist; no one's ego could be that inflated. Maybe it went back to the history, still hidden behind dark curtains and dusty sheets. He'd beat both out. At least, if he had the time to. Maybe this would be their only meeting.

 

And now the Gravekeeper spotted it.

 

Intimidation efforts. Or simply stating his role or position in power; the Gravekeeper could not fully decipher Origo's methods. No matter- the man's efforts would amount to nothing. The young man simply remained in his spot and gave a shrug. "I was born here," he answered. "I was raised here. This is my home. And I embrace all that comes with it. As the Keeper, I watch over it and its inhabitants, be them apart of my close community or the West-end, or the tombs and crypts beneath my feet. I have to ensure all are safe and no harm comes to the spirits."

 

The Gravekeeper's eyes locked onto Origo's, voice serious and earnest. "I take my job as a member of this place and a keeper very seriously. It makes no sense to run from work. Not even if it's work I'm unfamiliar with. You and all the others are my responsibility, and I'm not scared of that."

[Drag]

Lit by both the warm, golden lantern and pulses of cool blue light, Origo watched Gravekeeper shrug as if none of this fazed him. This was why he loved humans. The ones he couldn’t quite figure out, such as the one standing before him, he especially liked, because it meant that that which they held inside – soul, life force, spirit – was strong enough to survive his hunger and live on.

 

Fascinating creature, naïve and stubborn. Brave heart. Guiding soul, bright like Polaris. No wonder you were able to find me where I laid buried and forgotten for so long. No wonder all of us…

 

At that moment it hit Origo that if the robed one or any others would have gone after Gravekeeper, he most definitely would have fought to ensure his claim on him, similar to a panther mauling and tearing apart his own brothers to make certain his starving gut would be filled. The need to feed clawed at Origo, making it hard for him to remain patient. However, this was too interesting - speaking with this male and learning more was a nice hors d'oeuvre after so much time spent with only his own thoughts of half-forgotten things to keep him company.

 

“You were born to this world of death then, Gravekeeper, so I can only assume it’s all you’ve even known. The sense of duty you’re showing me by not running away is commendable, especially if you plan to take on the responsibility of ensuring the safety of all held here.”

 

Origo could sense them. He knew there were other weaker souls shifting about, watching. Some were upset over the rising and some were simply terrified. There were other humans close as well.

 

“But know you should be more concerned for your own safety right about now.” Opening his palm, Origo held it up to face Gravekeeper. “There are some recently arisen here who have far less control than I do.” He forced the beating light to fade to nothing but a faint glow, then folded his fingers over the blue. "What do you plan to do here, Keeper of the Graves?"

[TeaPlease]

Though he was not of their king, the Gravekeeper could vaguely sense the hunger that gnawed at the collective group- Origo especially. It didn't bother him too much to be the sort of thing they hungered for. They would've attacked by now if they weren't interested in something and the more time he spared alive, the more he could do to make sure all was well. Perhaps, even, it was Origo who was holding back the starving ones. Perhaps he should be flattered.

 

He saw the pack begin to shift. They were getting impatient. Perhaps their leader was held in high regard due to his own strong will? Considering it, the Gravekeeper could see it. Gaining a position of power due to exceptional abilities- that could hint at even greater abilities. Hmn.

 

No getting lost in thoughts now. That wouldn't do any good.

 

Honing back in on the words of Origo, the young man listened with a respectful expression and nodded his head to acknowledge the compliments. He didn't flinch away, nor did he express any fear. Only nodding once more, he considered his options. The Keeper was not a strong fighter. He possessed no special powers, and only had his wits about him. But even so, cleverness could not beat the speed or skill of the arisen mobs.

 

"I plan to help you all back to reasonable resting places, and I'll bring you food of sorts. That's my plan. If that fails, then I'll keep an eye on you and help you become accustomed to your new home." A pause. "And if that doesn't work out either, I suppose I should begin to mark my own bed of dirt and only nag at your bunch in a spectral form."

[Drag]

“As I said before, I am awake now and that’s how I will stay.” Origo couldn’t help the low chuckle at Gravekeeper’s offer of sustenance. If only you knew.

Grinning slightly, he looked the human up and down, reached back, and began retying his long, raven hair. Blue had begun crackling fiercely at his fingertips again at the idea of what the male had just unwittingly offered, and he didn’t bother to hide the light. “You’re an accommodating host, but for my own reasons I plan to keep you away from the grave as long as possible.”

 

Origo froze. He let go of his hair, which fell back into disarray, let his hands fall slowly to his sides and listened. Something was happening outside.

 

“Human, I hope you’re as brave as you seem.”

 

Screaming in the distance and the scent of blood. The boom-echo of shots being fired…

[TeaPlease]

He didn't bother paying mind to Origo. He didn't care about his position with him or the group at a large. Violence was occurring on the soil of his home- as a citizen, he was worried and angered. As the Keeper, he was bound to duty and sprung into action. With a shove he pushed the man aside and began to make his way to the door. "Out of my way and keep inside." Although the Gravekeeper's expression was still icy, the heat had appeared, cracks sounding at the new emotions.

 

Anger tensed his voice. Shoving his way past the hungry people, they, too, distracted by the sudden onset of violence, the young man stepped outside of his home.

 

The staff in his hand felt less like a beacon of hope and a warning now. Faintly he heard the whispers of the spirits, wishing him safety and casting luck upon his person.

 

The Keeper didn't know what awaited him, but he would make sure it came to an end. Violence wasn't the usual option he went to seeing as how he didn't have the power to use it sufficiently. However, sometimes the moment called for it and as he more or less ran into the fray, he would just have to gauge if it would be needed.