eleazar-the-devourer-blog
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Eleazar | Eden Shepard | Vampire | 1630
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Dad. Children, children, why did he ever have children? Some part of him locked down deep knew the answer to that, knew it was because he wanted them, loved them, because they were infants who needed care and hands that needed held. Yet, Eleazar couldn’t find it in him to pull at that love, that want to make better, and instead he was left empty, cold.
Something was wrong, yet something was right in the worst kind of ways, and Iskinder would have been so damn proud.
“Booker,” His voice was a throaty coo, a mouthful of fang and the blood of his children. Marlowe’s hair was soft between his fingers, matted wet as it was, and he dropped it with a semblance of care to rest in his daughters arms. “You’re late, thought you would have been home hours ago.”
The thing that bothered him most was perhaps not the strange feeling that crawled across his skin, a level of depressive that destroyed every bubbling happy thought filling his heart, but instead the simple silence that filled the Shepard estate.
The smell of blood was thick in the air the moment he stepped out of the car, reeling back from the impact of it. His heart beat heavy in his chest. Silence and blood were both suspicious things. But as his numb fingers pulled open the door, things became clear.
Blood painted the entryway, the halls, a slaughterhouse in his own home. His muscles clenched tightly, and he tiptoed through the blood. Such a comforting thing, usually, but he knew the outfit of the the body in the doorway. He knew the smell of Arcade’s blood, he knew the smell of Lottie’s blood, Marlowe’s blood, his father’s blood. It was all sour.
“Dad?”
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@bookofleslie
He’d left the werewolf in the entryway, torso torn open with his entrails exposed. Over an hour ago, and the boys blood had already started to dry, the scent of it think in the air. The boy hadn’t even fought him, hadn’t even cried out, and Arcade had fallen quickly.
Charlotta had fought him, with shrill screams on her lips and panic in her grey eyes. Her nails had pulled at his skin, scratching at him until he had bled. He had twisted her head off then, even though he had only intended to pull her heart from her chest and had Eleazar sat on the table, fingers caught in her black hair even as her body lay crumbled on the kitchen. She had painted her lips that day, traced delicate makeup around her eyes that had since run with tears, and beneath the sweet smell of her blood, she smelled like that human boy.
Marlowe, bless him, had given just as much of a fight. His body was in pieces in the dining room where the boy had tried to run from him. He had twisted an arm off first, tearing the boys daylight ring from him at the very base before grappling at his legs. The blonde’s head had gone last, with his face contorted in a scream and his golden curls matted with blood.
Hearing the front door, Eleazar turned, fingers still curled in Marlowe’s hair.
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nicknames according to booker zywick-shepard;
kai leventis as mab, queen of the fairies | marlowe shepard as wendy darling | lottie shepard as princess tigerlily | josiah sokolov as nibs, the brave lost boy | salem wilson as tootles, the sweet lost boy | augustus leventis as john darling | eliza leventis as tinkerbell | eden shepard as nana | maolmordha o’cruadloch as captain(e) hook(e)
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“Better not be mud on my floors Booker, your Mama’ll take what hair I have left.”
His children could poke at him all they wanted, for things that he did and the way that he dressed, but Eden had just scoffed at his son, rolling up the sleeves of his mint green shirt until they were pooled above his elbows.
Turning enough to see the figure of his son and their guest, Eden waved with the spatula he held.
“Hi.”
Pancakes |Jinx, Leslie & Eden
As Jinx was ushered in they laughed. It was good to be back in their friends presence. Jinx hugged him back. “It’s so good to see you,” they smiled. “Oh no,” Jinx said gutted that she would not meet mother Shepard. “I guess I will have to catch her another time,” Jinx told her. “Your dad still about though? I am so psyched to meet him,” Jinx quickly asked. Wondering what he was like.
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Vampire blood.
A taste he was familiar with, but that familiarity didn’t make it any less unnerving. Expression falling flat, Eden stared down at the other vampire. He found that he wasn’t afraid, not in the slightest, but there was still a thread of unease that coursed through him.
“I’m glad he feeds you well.”
“Do you plan on killing anyone else in my territory?”
Head tipping, Fox’s grin fell then, almost instantaneously. He wasn’t about to irritate him further, and that much was evident. A pursuit best left as it started to fail.
“Plenty,” he responded slowly. “Vampire blood.”
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“I’ve never been hand fed, humor me.”
Tilting his head back to stare down at the younger vampire, Eden watched the sudden, sharp expression that filtered through his doe eyes before it was gone. Clearing his throat, nodding slowly, he remained where he stood, letting Fox invade his space once more.
The same feeling he got from Leslie was there then, the notion that the boy would just do it anyway even if Eden tried to distance himself. The fruitlessness of trying to run from a situation that he had walked into of his own accord.
“Your Salem.” Every vampire had a sire, surely, since the beginning of their kind. Such thoughts brought about the cycle of question though, who had sired the first vampire if not another vampire, and he shook his head clear before those thoughts could consume him. “Does your Salem feed you enough?”
“Is it?” Fox questioned, turning slowly to face him fully. Sensuality was not something he had ever thought he was good with, but his new job said quite the opposite, and in a calculated manner, he folded his arms, head tipping to one side. Surely blood alone couldn’t draw such a reaction from a vampire, one as old as Eleazar seemed. “Or, wolf, is it perhaps you have been caught in a trap by a cleverer creature?”
Rolling his lips together, he stepped back down to the place he had held in front of the other, always one to push his own boundaries. “Sire is a word I do not know. I don’t have one. Salem is–” Irritation crept up his spine. What was Salem? Eyes flickering down, he could think of no better finish to his sentence. “–Mine.”
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He was too old to be ashamed of himself and the things that his body did. The reaction was normal, an offering had been given to him, and the base, warrior part of his psyche that still resided in his mind had reared its head at the action.
“Not like that, no, this is because of that.”
Gesturing uselessly at the discarded heart where it lay, already covered in dirt, Eden cleared his throat. He couldn’t cup himself and shield his physical response from view, but all the same he couldn’t very well adjust himself, not with Fox staring like that. So he scowled faintly, sighed, shifting his weight on his feet.
“Salem your sire? I don’t want anything from you, Fox, just want to make sure someones feeding you.”
Tiptoeing through the carnage, as if it was little more than a bed of flowers around him, Fox let out a low hum. He tipped to one side, wishing there was more now to pilfer from the dead girls, whipping around as the other spoke.
“I know they’re broken,” he responded lowly. This all meant he would need to hunt again before the night was out – he wasn’t going to let Salem go hungry. “I broke them. But no, no. My Salem waits.” Eyes flickering over the stranger, pale blue slipped farther down, a curious grin growing on his face. “You’d like me to stay.”
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Watching where it landed, licking the red from his teeth, Eden resisted the urge to pull it from the ground just so he could sink his teeth into it once more. There were still a few drops left, surely, but Fox distracted him with a hot, wet tongue pulling across his skin. Twisting his head for a second to catch it, he was distracted instead, and Eden glared down at the obvious tension in the front of his joggers.
He hadn’t expected to react like this, not when he’d just come out to check on the little group of college campers. Instead, there was blood on his skin, hot and sweet where the night air had already started to cool it, and his flesh hung heavy between his thighs.
“They’re broken now. Fox, do you-”
“Do you need somewhere to go?”
“Keen.” Head tipping to the side, he pulled the heart away, ripping it open further and sipping at what was left of it. Quickly, though, disappointed, he cast it aside. That simply wouldn’t do for Salem, he deserved something full, something richer than a college girl.
Discarding it, he stepped forward, tongue drawing unabashedly over the stranger’s cheek to clean away the smear of blood. Then, as if it hadn’t happened at all, he stepped away, picking her up and digging in the cavity of her chest again. Everything was empty, empty, empty, and she was quickly discarded like an empty bag.
“Broken girls, broken girls, broken girls. They’ll fuck anything that walks and touches lips to their necks,” he sang, voice lilting as he stepped around them. “Broken girls.”
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He hadn’t expected to be touched, even as close to the shorter man as he was. Still, he didn’t flinch at his grasp, too used to the fleeting touches to be bothered by the grasp. Fingers sticky on his skin, Eden tipped his head back with the gentle prompting, and his lips formed against the tough muscle pressed to them.
He drank deeply, black eyes falling heavy lidded. There was enough left to his vision that he could see the younger vampire, through the fringe of his own lashes.
“Fox,” Voice thick with blood, muffled faintly by the pressure of the organ against his teeth, Eden turned away from it, felt it smear blood against his cheek. “Your name is Fox?”
Close now, so close, and the scent of cologne, of a small woman, a young vampire rolled off of him. Shifting then, a delighted smile slipped across the corners of his lips, and his free hand went out, grabbing at the back of the man – Eleazar – ‘s neck. Blood slipped across his dark skin like paint on a canvas where his fingertips touched, but curiosity roiled heavily in his stomach, and he pressed the open heart to his lips, urging him to tip his head back and drink from it.
“If you forgive the Fox for stealing your chickens, he will take your sheep,” he whispered, watching him.
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He smelled older than Eden’s children, even if his habits said otherwise. That was enough to pull away some of the guilt that he felt, because the boy wasn’t so young, wasn’t so clueless, not if he smelled that old.
“Eleazar. My name is Eleazar.”
Shaking her head until her hair came unknotted, her skull bounced quietly on the forest floor. He crept forward, close enough that he could almost taste the blood on the slender man’s skin, and he found that he wanted to.
“Your name?”
“Lovely eyes, now I can see them,” Fox drawled, though it was clear his comment was not directed toward the dead girl. His arm withdrew slowly as the stranger approached, as if luring him closer with it, and slowly, his head tipped back. “Closer.”
Shana. Shana, what a strange name, but then, he had no idea what had truly happened to the English language over the years, or the names that were in it. Instead, his mouth hung open curiously, watching the older vampire draw closer, wondering just how far he could drag him like this. He cared nothing for the girl.
“Yours is more important. Prestige rolls from you like smoke, bitter smog, and it’s suffocating me.”
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Watching the other move, he wasn’t supposed to react like this, wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was an ancient, a demon in his own right despite the fangs within his gums, a boy no better than a fledgling shouldn’t have affected him so. Eden found himself swaying forward though, and the woman’s head still hung in his grasp, her hair tangled around his fingertips.
Dark eyes darting from the boys face to the steaming heart in his hand instead, Eden found that he was hungry. Just what he hungered for was difficult to discern, even for the ancient vampire, and he drew closer with a thick swallow.
“Name was Shana. She was flirty, college gir-what’s your name?”
Wandering as the other spoke, Fox’s head tipped to the side, whimsically stepping through the carnage. He stopped at the rather still-together corpse of a girl whose hair had been blonde, when it was still attached to her skull. She’d tried to run, and her scalp had been the one to suffer. With a wet squelching sound, he dug into the cavity of her chest, fishing and finding her heart. The almost-empty veins snapped easily, and he ripped it free, coddling and petting the steaming organ.
Teeth sinking into the hard muscle, it cracked and snapped until pieces of it were free in his mouth, and he let out a soft sound of delight from the refreshing taste of her blood, irony and sweet and so strong for such a small woman. He milked what he could out of he single bite, offering the rest of it up to the stranger. Perhaps he could take it home for Salem, something warm for the other.
“Was she this sweet when she spoke? I think I would have liked her. It’s fresh. Warm. Smooth. Come here.”
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His fingers tangled in the sticky black of her curls as he caught her head, and Eden held the weight of her skull for a moment before sighing. A head, of all things, still hot to the touch, smelling like sweet perfume and the sickly, copper tang of blood. It should have disturbed him, how unbothered he was holding a woman’s severed head, but Eden just stared at it even as he spoke.
“Already ate.”
“Right, right no fledgling. You always eat like this, kid, or do you just-do you need fed?”
Booker was going to have his head for this if the boy ever found out.
Another vampire, then. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he grinned broadly, uneven fangs evident under pouty lips.
“But they didn’t even sing for me. The whores. I’m no sapling, no fledgling, no. I’m not dust like you, either. Ripe, like them.” And the thought of another vampire’s blood sent a gluttonous growl to his stomach.
Kneeling down, he picked up one of the girls’ heads. A pretty little thing, barely twenty-two by the looks of her, with a tattoo behind her ear and black curls he had done so well to preserve when he tore her neck out, left her to scramble while he snapped the other’s legs. There were still tears on her face, and he smiled slowly, turning to the man behind him.
“There may still be honey left, if you’re willing to paw at the hive,” Fox laughed, tossing the head to him.
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The voice that answered him was all wrong, from the male tone to the lilt of it. Skidding to a stop, dirt catching in his shoes, Eden stared at the younger vampire. There was blood all around, their heads rolling and their limbs torn asunder, and his teeth bared at the sight of it.
“Fine? How is this fine, they’re dea-this is sloppy.” A strange vampire, young by the scent of him, underfed by the look of him. Eden didn’t know if he wanted to strangle the boy then, or feed him. “Are you a fledgling?”
Easy pickings. Warm blood throbbing in the midnight air, pulses of drunken college girls, just enough alcohol on their breath to giggle at him when he arrived with a sharp-toothed and flirty grin, and they thought something kind of him. Five years without feeding, without real blood, five years without a lot of things had made him weak to his own impulses, and in the first week alone, Salem had seen plenty of his breakdowns.
But now, their corpses were strewn like tinsel across their own camping grounds, and his thin chest expanded deeply. An unfamiliar scent from somewhere behind him, but there was a warmth flooding through him, and Foxglove stood resolute.
“They’re fine,” he answered with a chime in his voice.
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@filthy-faerie
His children were either asleep or gone, with Marlowe as the only Shepard child still under his roof for the night. Leslie had gone off to the ancient vampire that he could always smell on the boy, Charlotta to her human, and there had been a quiet in the house. Such quiet was reason enough to check in on the campers who had taken up residence on the border of his property and the forest.
There was blood in the air though, sharp and sweet, and the jog that he had taken toward their flickering fire turned into a run.
“Ladies? Everything alright out here?”
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“And I’ve got a lot of skeletons,” If only she knew, the words he spoke carelessly weren’t a figure of speech. Instead, there was an honesty there that only those that knew him would understand. “I’ll tell you about them some day.”
“We’ve all got lots of luggage here, and if you ask? I know that Leslie and Charlotta might talk to you about it. You’re a Shepard, we take care of each other.”
She looked up at him, a nervous desire from some sort of approval in her brown eyes. “You sure? Because I’ve got a whole lot of crazy trailing behind me in my luggage.” She laughed at that—a spent, tired laugh but a laugh nonetheless.
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“Black forest pancakes tend to go over better, so how about you start with one of those cakes?”
“There’s my girl. Now, lets get up, call your child because he comes and beats down my door.”
“I can make a black forest cake! Ooh, or a red velvet one. Which would they like more?”
“If I must, I suppose I will.”
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“Louise, honey.”
Eden scooted forward where he sat, and he clasped his hands together between his knees.
“You have a family too, if you’ll have us.”
“She’s no longer in danger though is she? I mean, seeing me won’t hurt her.” But then again, maybe it would. Louise was a time bomb. Sooner than later, she’d be dead, and her mother would lose her again. Maybe it was best that they never saw each other. But, that left a hole in Louise’s heart that left her incredibly lifeless. The realization drew the spark from her eyes, and she accepted her loneliness.
“Well, that’s good for you. At least you have a family,” she bit, sounding more sad than cruel. But cruelty was what she wanted. She wanted to be mean, but that overarching kindness was what kept her words softer.
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