ꜱ1ᴇ1　　north quarter

@✧　Valor Rosewain ↳ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 15, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: villain of my own story - unlike pluto

The sound of Valor's voice drew Kivari's attention down, and his sigh was fond when the vampire lilted out a phrase in French, his smile brilliant. Even despite the situation, the fire all around them, it made some of Kivari's tension leave. "Valor, you /know/ I don't understand you when you speak French," he murmured.

Perhaps the vampire's injury was severe enough that he didn't know he had slipped into his native language. The thought sent panic coursing through Kivari. He couldn't allow any harm to come to Valor. The wound in his abdomen had the phoenix worried even despite all of Valor's attempts to convince him that he was fine. He wanted to utter a promise to keep Valor safe, to not allow him to die, but the inside of his mouth tasted like sawdust—dry and uncomfortable in the face of the reality that he might have failed in his self-assigned job to keep Valor safe from harm. Bitter at the realization that he had been late to come to Valor's rescue, and that he could have costed Valor his life with the fire that blazed around them and seemed to rain from the sky.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling for the fire around them, attempting to navigate through a path that had the least flame and heat—for the benefit of Valor. Surely the heat wasn't helping his injured state. Kivari only wanted to protect him, to save him, to never lose him.

Kivari started walking again, determined to get Valor out of the north quarter so that he could feed and heal. Hopefully heal. Deep down inside, a part of Kivari knew that if he lost Valor, nothing would protect the world from his pain. The city would burn and the rest of the world would burn with it.

Valor touched him, and his fingers were cool on Kivari's heated skin. The phoenix's heart stuttered, gripped with a sudden fear though Valor didn't burst into flame, didn't show any sign of discomfort from the heat, the fire that Kivari grappled with just beneath the barrier of his skin. His sigh of relief was shaky, unable to let go of his fear that he was going to be the one who brought Valor his end—no matter how many times Valor touched him and the fire didn't touch the vampire.

He feared that what he was always being told would turn out to be true, and that he would lose his fragile control and hurt the closest friend he had. The only person who didn't treat him like a failure, no matter how many times he lost his grip and fire roiled through the city unhindered until he was held under water by the Mer of Vos.

It seemed a miracle to him that Akaedi and Jinhai had yet to accidentally kill him by holding him under, but Kivari didn't know if he'd revive if he drowned. He didn't yet know what could truly kill him.

But it wasn't him that he was worried about. It was Valor, a snowdrop in the smoke and ash, heat and flame that raged around them. All because of Kivari, spurring from his anger, from how he released his power to obliterate the intruders of the city and from how his anger had overtaken him when Valor was attacked. Kivari was the very essence of everything that was a danger to Valor and yet the vampire trusted him to get him out of the burning north quarter safely.

But something felt wrong.

Kivari could still taste smoke in the air, but he could almost taste an undertone of salt. Salt, and something else. For a moment, the phoenix couldn't put his finger on what it was, what was bothering him so.

And then the wall of water broke through the buildings, and that was the last thing that Kivari remembered.

@♆　Kivari Ae Valor was more than happy to entrust himself to the phoenix. Really he'd already been doing it for the past fourteen years or so; Kivari always claimed that he couldn't control himself, that he'd hurt Valor. And yet.

And yet he never had, and the vampire never once felt threatened or in danger in Kivari's presence. If anything the phoenix made him feel safer. Kivari's warmth was one of the few things Valor could /feel/. Feel and enjoy. Whenever Valor wore his charmed ring that kept him from burning in the sun, he could not feel the sun's warmth. It was merely taunting light, the promise of warmth but the withdrawal of it like some sort of sick joke. But Kivari he could feel. He had never held Kivari, but the brief moments of contact always made him want to sigh, though he wasn't sure why. Relief? Perhaps. Contentment? Maybe. Valor liked to think that the warmth he felt from Kivari was the warmth that being human used to make him feel; he couldn't remember what that was anymore.

In this moment, Valor was unable to think of any possible danger, for he was in the world's safest place: Kivari's arms. A line of poetry floated into Valor's mind, and he smiled. "Tes baisers ressusciteraient / Le cadavre de ton vampire!" Your kisses would resuscitate the cadaver of your vampire. Kivari was not kissing Valor, merely holding him, but--oh my, how would it feel to kiss Kivari?--the vampire wondered.

It was a dangerous thought, one that came unbidden and from the dark recesses of his dead heart. He swallowed the thought, the fantasy, down. It was probably just his hunger, confusing itself with lust in his wounded state. An intrusive thought. Nothing more.

Opening his eyes in hopes that what he'd see would banish forbidden thoughts of intimacy with the phoenix, Valor noticed the way the surrounding fire cast a warm, orange glow on the world. It lit parts of Kivari's face, casting others in shadow. Valor smiled ever so slightly, one hand lifting to brush the backs of his fingers against the male's cheek. "Si jolie," he murmured quietly. How lovely.

But of course he was lovely. Kivari was like fire itself to the vampire; bright, warm, capable of destruction. But people often forgot that fire was more than destruction; it was life. A bringer of life and a savior, capable of holding off the deepest of chills.

Valor sighed, but it was a mistake; he could taste ash on his tongue. Luckily it would not effect his lungs , but the dry heat of the air reminded him of his thirst. He had been trying to sate it, but likely all the blood he took from the human he hunted had already spilled out of him from the stake wound, and the rest was being used to stitch himself back together. He was thirsty, and Kivari's exposed throat looked incredibly inviting. Valor wanted to laugh. Despite the phoenix's worries and concerns, right now he was not the one who was a danger to the vampire; the vampire was a danger to him.

Valor would not feed from Kivari, though. Not even if he began to shake and convulse and grow weak. Even with his thirst gnawing at him from the inside out, the vampire knew he could never bring himself to harm Kivari any more than Kivari could bring himself to harm Valor. It was out of the question.

Instead, Valor shut his eyes again and did his best to ignore the growing urgency to feed. Once they were out of this part of the city, he would find someone to feed off of. He would even accept blood bags at this point. Anything to keep himself from hurting Kivari. His beloved Kivari.

@✧　Valor Rosewain ↳ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 15, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: free the slave - kaleo

Perhaps it spoke to how well the vampire and phoenix were accustomed to one another, that Kivari knew the shift in Valor's eye color meant he was thirsty. Kivari wondered how long it had been since Valor had eaten. He knew it was dangerous, for his close friend to go long periods without blood. He knew Valor dealt with addiction and withdrawal in his unlife, just as he had when he was alive. And while Valor seemed to view it as a punishment for his past actions, Kivari simply found it to be unfair, for Valor was a good person.

Anyway, Kivari would have to be sure that Valor drank. And get him to safety. And ensure that he would remain safe, despite the war that was raging all around them. And—and the fire. The fire that was Kivari's fault.

/You will not hurt me./

Valor always had such faith in him, and Kivari wished he could believe it himself, but it always was a lingering thought—the pain he could cause the vampire, how easily Kivari might accidentally kill him. The vampire's words made his throat dry in a way that heat never could, for heat had never bothered Kivari and yet the fear of losing Valor was crushing—it gripped at his heart with cold fingers, biting at the center of his warmth. In a way, Kivari wondered if this was what mortality felt like, except he was concerned for someone else's death and not his own; for he had never feared death, but when it came to Valor it felt.... different.

Holding the vampire in his arms, Kivari's worry stuck thick in his chest, disbelief even when Valor tried to assure him that the stake in his abdomen had not been enough to be a fatal injury. It was a cold, clammy sort of fear that wrapped around him, tight enough to choke him. The last thing that the phoenix wanted was to lose Valor. "But what if it isn't temporary," he whined out, as his hold tightened the subtlest amount—he clung to Valor as he carried him from the building, out into the thick smoke that was beginning to settle over the north quarter. "I am so glad," he whispered, "that you don't have to breathe." It was too thick; the smoke in the air made it difficult to breathe, and had Valor been of a species that required oxygen it would have only concerned him more. Kivari was a creature of fire, and so smoke didn't bother him when he breathed it in, filling molten lungs with contaminated air. Everything around them was burning.

But the precious, precious vampire he held wouldn't burn. Kivari would make sure of that, if he had to overreach and potentially die to do it. (He'd just come back, anyway. Or at least, he thought he would.)

There was so much fire. It had spread, since Kivari had raced to find Valor after first smelling his blood, billowing throughout the quarter. The smoke was thicker, making it near-impossible to see much beyond the flicker of orange flames. Kivari heard and saw no life, walking through streets that were quiet aside from the crackle of ravenous flames, devouring that which they could set upon. Flames reached toward the phoenix and vampire and Kivari pushed them away, his energy diverted to pushing them away when usually he would be drawing them in and unleashing them on whatever he wanted to destroy—and even that which he did not, when he lost too much of his control.

He wanted Valor to be safe. No matter the cost.

He wanted Valor to keep his faith in him, even if Kivari himself thought that it was misplaced.

A soft weight rested on Kivari's shoulder, bringing the phoenix's gaze down from where it had been fixated in front of him. Valor had settled his head on Kivari's shoulder, eyes closed, relaxed in his arms despite the dangers they were in. A burning heart skipped a beat, watching dark flecks settle in Valor's snow-white hair as Kivari carried him from the wreckage that the phoenix himself had wrought upon their city.

And even amidst that wreckage, Kivari thought that Valor was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He couldn't let himself destroy Valor as he destroyed everything else he touched.

At the same time, however, Kivari knew that he was incapable of letting Valor go. Their friendship had become quite a bond over fourteen years, and Valor had filled a void that Kivari didn't know he had—a void that came from a lack of people who believed in him. A void that came from Kivari's conditioned belief that he was nothing more than a hunter, a killer, a weapon of mass destruction. And yet in Valor's company Kivari felt like he was a person, like he could be himself to some extent—even if he was always afraid that he would burst into flames and lose the one true friend he had made.

So he walked through the fires that he had set, pushing flames out of his way so that they would not touch Valor, carving a swath through the flames that were ravaging the city. Kivari's body was hot but he did not burst into flame, his veins were throbbing and hot with fire but he did not burn his vampire and he did not let the fires around them burn him either.

Kivari had to get Valor out of the north quarter.

Around them everything burned, and yet there was a sense of calm, settling over Kivari; a coolness that reached his head, if not to his body. His mind was clear, operating with enough clarity to know the way out of the north quarter, toward safer areas of the city. And yet Kivari did not allow his thoughts to linger on these facts, for they would require him to open his eyes and see that he was capable of /control/, that he would never allow himself to bring Valor harm.

Valor, who was showing how much he trusted Kivari even now.

Valor, who was potential at death's doorstep and yet still entrusted himself to Kivari, peaceful in his arms. Kivari's greatest fear was that Valor might pass on in his arms and he wouldn't know, for the vampire was undead and had no pulse, no heartbeat, no warmth; he wasn't quite living and yet something told Kivari that Valor was still with him. That he was still hanging on, even if he might slip off the edge.

But not before Kivari got him out of the north quarter. It wouldn't happen before then.

He wouldn't allow it.

@♆　Kivari Ae Valor watched the panic in Kivari's eyes and wanted nothing more than to place his cool hands on Kivari's warm cheeks, to make Kivari look into his eyes so he could tell him to breathe. Despite the stake, Valor was alright. Only stakes to the heart were fatal. This just paralyzed him, and once it was removed he would be able to recover fairly quickly. Quicker if he were given blood to speed up the healing process. All the blood that he had just fed was probably already out of his system. Luckily the paralyzing effect from the stake was keeping him from feeling any of his usual shaky withdrawal symptoms. Even the smell of the human's spilled blood did not make him salivate.

"Yes, Kivari. The stake," Valor repeated back, nodding solemnly. "You can just pull it out. I am quite alright. I promise. I do not lie to you."

But Valor could see the hesitancy in Kivari's eyes. The worry, the uncertainty. He was still very warm and was probably scared of lighting the stake on fire and making it nothing more than a wick that would lead up to Valor. But Valor knew he wouldn't--he just wished Kivari knew that, too. Valor had more than enough belief in the phoenix for the both of them, but Kivari refused to ever listen to him. It hurt Valor, seeing how Kivari was scared of himself. And as Kivari backed away from Valor, the vampire could not help but feel a pang in his chest, in the empty cavity where his heart once sat. Now and then, when Kivari smiled, or when he shut his eyes against the sunlight, Valor swore he could feel it beating again. Loud, heavy thumps that resonated throughout his entire being.

Valor wanted to call Kivari back, to tell him to just go ahead and pull the stake out and prove that he wouldn't catch it on fire because he did not want to, but Kivari wouldn't listen. He never did. Sighing, Valor waited for the phoenix to calm himself. But then he heard him make an explanation of pain and frowned. "Are you alright?" he asked just as the spicy-sweet scent of the phoenix's blood hit his nose. Now that was enough to make the vampire feel a sharp pain of hunger, his throat burning and mouth feeling incredibly dry. But he swallowed the feeling away, wishing he could assess the phoenix's damage.

And now Kivari had come back and Valor's eyes fixated on him. The color of the vampire's eyes had changed. If he was well-fed they were the color of honey. But thirsty and with a stake in his abdomen they had darkened to the color of maple syrup.

"You will not hurt me," Valor whispered in reassurance, smiling ever so slightly. He did not bother looking at the phoenix's hands when they grasped onto the piece of wood. It would not go up in flames, and likely wouldn't even change temperature. And in a tug it was out and Valor gasped in relief. The discomfort was gone and already his skin was beginning to stitch itself back together. The feeling in his limbs had returned, but he would not be able to move them for a few more minutes.

Fully expecting to be allowed those few minutes, Valor sank down in the chair slightly, his eyes slipping shut. But Kivari had placed his strong arms underneath him and lifted him up, and the vampire's eyes flew open in surprise. "I--" he started, blinking at him. Valor could not bring himself to protest. In a sick way, he wished he had been grievously injured prior to today if it meant he could feel the warmth of the phoenix's body engulfing him like this. It reminded him of being alive, of being human. Bittersweet memories that were fading faster and faster these days.

"Kivari, I am not dying," he said firmly. "I will heal on my own. A stake to the heart is fatal, but not to the stomach. Anywhere but the heart is mostly just annoying, though the stomach will paralyze. That's all, mon petit phenix--I was only paralyzed. If it had been through my heart you would have found a corpse. I would not be talking to you right now, alright? Besides--look." Valor lifted an arm, waving his hand in the phoenix's face. "My mobility is already coming back. It was only temporary. I am fine."

If the entire northern part of the city wasn't on fire he would have demanded Kivari put him down so that he could lift his shirt and demonstrate to the phoenix that his skin was already healing. If he could show Kivari his skin sealing with no evidence of any wound to begin with, it might have convinced him. But there was fire everywhere and the heat that hung thick and heavy in the air was almost nice to the vampire. But even surrounded by flames, he was not scared. Valor knew in the very core of his being, in the deep recesses of his dead heart, that Kivari would not allow him to come to any more harm.

So instead Valor relaxed. He would need blood as soon as they were out of the city's burning rubble, but that could wait. For now he allowed himself the guilty pleasure of placing his head on Kivari's shoulder and closing his eyes. Ash and soot fell all around them but Valor could imagine it was snow. That he and Kivari were somewhere far, far away. Somewhere where monsters and hunters didn't exist and it was just the two of them having tea and looking out of a grand window, lounging on couches and watching the snow blanket their world in silence.

If only.

@✧　Valor Rosewain ↳ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 15, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: i'm dangerous - the everlove

Valor was so calm, a calm that would be unnatural for anyone else, but Kivari over the years had grown used to Valor's ever-present calm, merely another constant in the phoenix's lives. And Kivari more than made up for the panic anyway, especially when the vampire laughed off his worries, making a ridiculous claim that he wasn't dying. Kivari didn't find himself believing him. Weren't wooden stakes the weapon of choice to kill vampires? And this one was buried amid his vital organs, by a hunter brave enough to try and take Valor from him.

(If Valor died, Kivari would go to hell to kill the hunter again.)

"Oh. Right. Stake." Kivari hesitated, looking at his hands that were still warm, his body still heated from all of the anger. He didn't want to do anything that would risk hurting Valor—the stake was wooden and wood was flammable and Valor was flammable and Kivari was running hot, liquid fire pumping through his veins and heating his skin enough to burn a man from the inside out and could he really do this? Could he help Valor, without being the one to hurt him in the end? Would he—would /he/ hurt Valor?

Could he live with himself, if he did?

"I need... I need to cool down a little more first." Kivari wiped sweating hands on the legs of his pants, backing quickly away from Valor's chair. In the process, his heels struck the dead body behind him and, without the time to regain his balance, Kivari careened backward to land in a very undignified heap on the dirt floor.

"Ow," he groaned.

Picking himself up off of the floor, Kivari dusted himself off, gritting his teeth when he realized his palms were still bleeding from how tightly he had clenched his fists, and dust had gotten in the little cuts. Oh well, he'd be fine, he could clean them later. In the meantime, the important thing was Valor, who was sitting in his chair still, waiting for Kivari to take out the stake.

Right, the stake! The whole point of moving away from Valor had been to give himself time to cool down and yet Kivari felt no cooler, the blaze settled beneath his skin like it was going to stay there. The phoenix truly didn't want to risk harming Valor, and he didn't trust himself. Not with his track record of setting accidental fires and burning everything around him.

Outside burned the north quarter, a testament to what happened when Kivari lost his control.

A testament to the danger he posed.

And in that, it was a testament to the danger that he posed to the vampire. In his eyes, at least. Valor had this habit of arguing with him, as though Kivari hadn't lived through all of those lives of burning and hurting and destroying, as though Kivari didn't know that he was a /danger/, whether Valor wanted to admit it or not.

He always wanted to ask why he didn't scare Valor, and never had the courage to hear the answer.

He was afraid of hearing Valor confess to fearing him.

And still he had moved no closer to the stake, or to Valor.

Kivari swallowed, eyes fixated on the piece of wood that stuck out from Valor's abdomen, stained with the vampire's blood (could it be called Valor's blood if it was taken from the bodies of others? It came out of his body, so Kivari thought so) but otherwise unassuming, if one ignored that it was brutally speared into a man's stomach. But that was another line of thought that just heated his blood again, when it might have been cooling.

And he really needed to get that stake out, before Valor, too, decided he was only good for killing and burning. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth, acrid and bitter and ashy on top of that.

Everything had to start with a first step, and Kivari's was hesitant, shuffling slowly back to the vampire's chair. He wasn't glowing with heat anymore, thankfully, and his veins weren't white-hot through his skin even if his body still /felt/ like it should have been. But still, the danger was still there, and Kivari absolutely wasn't going to hurt Valor; not if he could help it, not if he could avoid doing things that would put him in danger.

Even if what he was going to do probably wasn't going to feel too good for the vampire.

Silently, Kivari uttered an apology to Valor, his hand hovering over the piece of wood. As soon as his fingers were wrapped around it, the phoenix ripped it out, hasty from his fear of the wood catching fire as soon as his skin made contact.

Fire. No fire. There was no fire. The stake slipped between Kivari's fingers to thump on the dirt floor, relief lifting a great weight off of the phoenix's shoulders. The stake hadn't burned, even though it was dry wood, perfect for creating a flame in the hands of a phoenix who lacked control.

(Kivari ignored the voice in his head that sounded like Valor, reprimanding him for his thoughts.)

Reminded of the flames that were beginning to devour the north quarter—his own flames, desolation that /he/ had caused and only caused to worsen with his discovery of Valor—the phoenix reached out for his vampire, sliding his arms under his legs and behind his back to lift him out of the chair. "Do I take you to get medical attention? I should take you to get medical attention. Is there even a place for vampires /to/ get medical attention? A vampire clinic? Or do vampires just take care of their own injuries?" he inquired. Not his usual line of nervous ramble, but ramble all the same as Kivari stepped over the foolish human's body and carried Valor out of the factory, dark eyes sweeping the area around them for the best, least firey route that they could take.

Somehow, something told him that Akaedi would be displeased, even if he had been the one to tell him that he could let go of his powers.

But Valor was safe. Safer. Potentially safe. Kivari was worried about the wound in his abdomen, left behind by the stake. Everything he'd ever heard about vampires, all of the research that he'd done, had told him that staking a vampire was fatal. And the last thing Kivari wanted was for Valor to die. The vampire was too precious to him for that. He was like the calm within the storm, a place where Kivari didn't have to be angry, where he didn't have to be a killer.

Until now—but Kivari had /wanted/ to kill the human, without any commands to do so, without anyone's words to influence his feelings. This had been an absolute choice, not a job, not an order.

Kivari hoped he was still more to Valor than a mere killer.

@♆　Kivari Ae Blank eyes. Valor could tell he was boring this human but that the human was not quite sure what to do about it. Valor could almost see the question dancing in his eyes; should he gag Valor or move the stake into his heart? So Valor kept going. "You see, when people speak of the French Revolution all they speak of is how the nobility lived and reacted, or how the citizens involved in the overthrowing. No one speaks of those who were opposed to the revolution: people who seemingly had nothing to gain from this system. So why did they not join in? Why did they not scorn the nobility that stole from them and left them to starve?"

This human was obviously not very bright. He /should/ have gagged Valor; vampires had quite a few enhancements that made then excellent predators. Strong, fast, excellent sight, hearing, and smell. But vampires were beautiful. Their looks, their scent, and especially their voice were all meant to lure their prey in. Valor's voice was no exception; as long as he could talk, he could keep the hunter in a trance.

While Valor lectured him about the complexities of middle and upper-middle class French citizens who hoped to join the ranks of the nobility through wealth, Valor picked up on something--or rather, someone. He heard the heartbeat first. It was faster than a human's, thrumming with anxiety, perhaps. Fear. Excitement. And then the scent hit him and Valor immediately knew it was Kivari; no one else quite smelled like that. Like ash and soot and destruction and burning, yet sweet like sugar and cinnamon. Like the first sip of absinthe, or the last hit of opium flooding your veins with intoxication that was just as sweet as it was deadly.

Valor thought he might have felt relief, perhaps, at the thought of being rescued. Or maybe anxiety, worry for Kivari. Yet he felt neither. A calm settled over the vampire like a thick blanket of snow, hitting the ground soundlessly in the dead of night.

Valor trusted Kivari. It was natural, like knowing the sun would rise the next day. Kivari would not hurt him, and would not let himself be hurt. Especially when the human hunter was this dumb.

The vampire did not make any indication that anything had changed. No turning of his head, no change in his tone. He remained still and even and lecturing this man. It seemed a bit cruel, to be lecturing him about the French Revolution when his time left on this earth had begun to tick down. But Valor supposed it was like staring at the clock on a timebomb. Once it had started, all you could do was wait; it would go off no matter what, especially when no one knew it was there.

Briefly, Valor wondered if Kivari would sneak in. He didn't know why he thought that--it was Kivari. And in a very Kivari fashion, he had blasted the doors off their hinges with a line that made Valor cringe. Too many action movies, the vampire thought. And that wasn't even mentioning the glaringly obvious misuse of "fire department". Valor sighed.

The vampire inclined his head towards Kivari to let him know that he was, at least, not dead. And then he watched the phoenix's eyes /glow/ with fury. Valor blinked, slightly taken aback. He had never seen Kivari use his abilities firsthand. Kivari was always very careful around Valor, who was a walking piece of dry kindling that could catch fire with the tiniest spark.

The first thing that struck Valor was Kivari's /control/. People (read: Vos) often berated Kivari for his lack of control, for setting everything on fire. Yet here Kivari was, literally burning white with rage, and yet Valor saw not one flame. Not a spark, not a of it.

Idly Valor wished he could turn himself away as Kivari destroyed the human. The hot rock was fine, but Valor could not help but think the tearing of the man's arm from his socket was a bit unnecessary. Though he should perhaps not be surprised at Kivari's theatrics when he had made an entrance with a cheesy line like he was some ex-special forces hero in an over produced action flick.

Valor's nose crinkled up when he smelled the undeniable scent of burning flesh. It was sickly sweet with an edge of smoke, and Valor was glad that he did not have to breathe in and continue to inhale it. But still the vampire did not say a word as he watched Kivari place his hand against the human, hands glowing. The human also began to glow, and his screams grated on the vampire's eardrums, making him wince.

But he was dead, and Valor turned his attention back to Kivari. He had cooled down, and Valor could not help but smile at him, feeling incredibly proud despite everything.

A laugh bubbled past his lips as he shook his head. "No, mon petit phenix, I am not dying. Merely paralyzed. Speaking of which..." Valor looked down at himself. "This stake does not hurt but it is /terribly/ uncomfortable and I am unable to remove it myself, so if you don't mind...?"

@✧　Valor Rosewain ↳ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 15, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: the phoenix - fall out boy
↳ ᴋɪᴠᴀʀɪ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b9/2b/07/b92b07c0908f65f86caee0cd8c212c13.jpg

Kivari stood in the epicenter of the devastation that his flames had wreaked, the air thick with smoke, ash fluttering down from the sky like it was snow. It was hard to see far, through the clouds of smoke and the rain of ash, and the flicker of flames that were audible as they greedily devoured what was in their path. Despite the low visibility, Kivari knew that he was alone; he had already left one enemy broken, obliterated those who came in his path, leaving only a trail of ash and soot in his path.

At least half of the city's north quarter was burning, enveloped in the flames of his rage. Akaedi had told him to let go if he felt the need, and Kivari had listened. And yet there was still a restless simmering just beneath his skin, more fire waiting to be unleashed, as though there was something more that he needed to do—yet he had pushed back the enemy, laid them to waste, decimated their ranks as they appeared before him.

He walked through the rubble, through flames and ash and smoke that had been brought on by his own hands, through the skeletons of buildings, burning with the phoenix's righteous anger at the injustices wrought upon his kind. And still there was no sign of life, no one else emerging. There were only the bodies, some of his own kind slaughtered by hunters and others the hunters who had been cut down by Kivari and his brethren.

But as he walked through the destruction, alone with his thoughts, Kivari caught a faint whiff of blood. The further he walked, the stronger the scent grew, until he could discern more than just the metallic scent of blood. Until he could pick out the finer details of the scent, the undertones and currents that he had come to associate with someone dear to him. Someone that Kivari kept even closer than some of the members of Vos, someone who Kivari had vowed—to himself—to allow to come to no harm.

And it was his blood that the phoenix could smell, growing thicker in the air. With it grew the feeling of fire, surging through his veins, ready to wreak havoc upon the city once more. Kivari's pace quickened until he found himself running, pursuing the scent, over a pool of blood and down an alley, twisting and turning and hopping over a wall instead of bothering with taking the gate.

He would find Valor. He had to.

It wasn't as though he was even leaving his assigned quarter. He was still in the north, and he had found no other enemies to scorch into the earth. But even if he had to leave the north quarter—Kivari would accept the consequences, once he had found Valor and ensured that he was safe.

But in the meantime, he was chasing a scent, scared of what he would find when he reached his destination. The scent was stronger now, like he was practically on top of the source; looking around him, Kivari found that he was in an industrial area, standing before a sprawling factory.

And within was the smell that had brought him running.

Now, Kivari wasn't the smartest of men—everyone, particularly Vos, loved to point that out. However, Kivari had /some/ common sense, and he had common sense enough to know that this was a trap. Not a clever one at all, oh no, it hadn't been well thought out; but it had to be a trap all the same, and so he would do something Akaedi thought him incapable of: he would proceed with caution.

Kivari crept through the gates of the factory, slipping cautiously after the smell until it lead him to a building with no windows. No windows meant there was no way for him to properly sneak in—not that he was good at sneaking either way—and so he would have to enter through the door. Crouching beside the building, considering his options, Kivari could hear a muffled voice, familiar even through the wall between them. He knew the rise and fall, lilt and descent of Valor's voice, just as well as he also knew the monotonous drawl that Valor had whenever he was lecturing. And it sounded like he was lecturing.

Maybe Valor was trying to buy time.

Kivari rose to his full height, passed a hand through his silver hair, and decided that there was nothing he could do but walk in and see what was what. It wasn't as though this person would be prepared for him, Kivari, the phoenix, the one who no one knew how to truly kill. All the same—Kivari would try not to be hit with anything that would temporarily kill him. He had to be careful, for Valor's sake.

But he would make a flashy entrance. Standing in front of the building's bay doors, Kivari raised his left hand, heat coalescing in his palm. The blast of fire flung the doors from their hinges, but the flames were pulled back before they could roll into the building and kill the man he was there to save. No, Kivari redirected the flames toward a different building, a problem that he could deal with later.

"Did someone call for the fire department?"

He thought it was funny, until his eyes fell on the stake in Valor's abdomen.

And then his blood /boiled/, eyes flashing white-hot as he struggled to keep himself from blasting the human who had dared to attack the vampire. His fists curled, head tilting violently to the side and popping his neck, locking his stance so he didn't /incinerate/ the man and put Valor in harm's way.

"You," the phoenix ground out, tearing his eyes off of Valor so he could fixate them on the human, the foolish human who had thought it was a good idea to target /Valor/ of all people, "have a lot of nerve."

/Don't use fire. Don't use fire. Don't use fire. Valor is right there./

Hot blood dripped down his palms, fists clenched so tightly that he was hurting himself. But he wouldn't use fire. No, Kivari wasn't going to risk that. Instead he scooped a rock off of the ground, heating in palms that were burning with heat but no flame; the rock turned red-hot and Kivari hurtled it at Valor's kidnapper, the smell of burning flesh filling the air when it struck his cheek. The resulting scream was painful to Kivari's ears, but appeasing to some of his anger, though there was more to make him pay for. The phoenix saw him reaching for a gun, and knew it was time to move; he launched himself at his enemy, colliding with him and taking him to the ground, sprawling out in front of the chair that Valor was tied to.

It reminded him to be cautious, even as glowing hands wrapped around a shoulder and a wrist and jerked with force that a mere mortal wasn't capable of achieving. With a terrible sound and another pained scream, Kivari had torn arm from socket, another forceful tug separating even the flesh under the phoenix's enraged power. Blood spattered his face but he could have cared less as he tossed the limb aside, letting the blood spray.

He could barely hear the screams that turned into choked noises, as he wrapped a white-hot hand around the man's throat and let his skin burn while his grip stole his breath. All he could hear was the roaring of fire that wanted to be unleashed but he restrained, for fear of what life that would take. And yet outside he had already started another raging fire, one that would grow and blaze another trail of destruction through the north quarter.

Kivari leaned over the man to peer down at his purpling face, silver eyes still blazing with rage. "You should have never harmed him," he hissed. "Now you will burn alive from the inside out."

A cruel smile on his face, Kivari clasped his hand over the man's nose and mouth, pouring heat into him through that hand and the one on his neck, until he could feel the fire starting in his veins, could see the glow like lines of lava ready to spill forth. Kivari sat back and watched him burn alive, his weak little human body lacking the resilience to last for long.

And when the man fell still at last, even his dying twitches ceased, Kivari turned his eyes on Valor, fading from silver to a concerned warm brown, feeling some of that heat fade away as he lifted himself off of the human's corpse and stumbled to Valor's chair.

Wood. Wood wood wood. Vampires were... they were weak to wood.

"Please tell me you're not dying," Kivari blurted.

@☠　Beau Reivana ↳ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 15, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: phoenix - cailin russo

Dark hair, dark pants, white shirt, black straps, dark eyes, freaky black and white mask that was little more than a human's parlor trick, likely an attempt to scare her foes. The details meant little to Kivari but he absorbed them anyway, filed for later thought should someone like Akaedi question him about the foes that he had faced. This woman spoke with bravery, uttered words about boredom and asked for entertainment like Kivari was something she could play with, a toy fresh off the shelf. She could never understand what she was really getting herself into.

Vos' bloodhound did not smile, silver eyes trailing with ghastly flames. His veins throbbed, blazing white hot with fire he was scarcely holding in, Kivari's flames already over what it could devour behind the woman who had narrowly avoided his attack.

Akaedi, however, had given him permission to let himself go.

He stalked toward the girl, flames up where his feet touched the ground, his jacket discarded and devoured by the flames as Kivari rolled his sleeves up, exposing more of that glow, the light of fire within him turning his skin translucent, shining through bright eyes and flickering through his body. How anyone could mistake him as anything short of a phoenix was beyond him, for the fire was within him, hot and potent and ready to erupt.

The flames over his fingertips first, more than ghostly apparitions now, lighting across his body with a fierce rush of heat. Crackling and popping hungrily, the flames danced across Kivari's frame. He held his hand out in front of him, and a lance of fire came to be, white-hot and whipping in the wind.

/Let yourself go, my phoenix. Burn them to ash./

Kivari would bring pride to Vos.

He launched the lance, letting it distract the woman who was his enemy as it whistled toward her, fire screaming in glee. As it flew, Kivari closed his eyes, shifting his posture so that his feet were planted shoulder-width apart, weight centered, stretching out his arms so that he held his hands out to either side of himself, palms facing outward.

He let the walls collapse, the barely-there control falling through.

And then there was fire, exploding around him, devouring at whatever it could find. There was fire, over the walls of the building, at the bodies that lay in the street. Glass windows shattered, flames spreading quickly, jumping from building to building and seeking that which it could burn and burn and burn—and living creatures were no exception. The flames raced toward the woman, singing their glee, a song that only Kivari could hear.

At the last moment, Kivari made a splitting motion with his palms.

Instead of devouring her as they so desired, the flames split, circling her in a tight ring, threatening to draw ever closer, to over her body and burn her alive. They danced and jumped, trying to reach at her arms, her feet, whatever she might move; Kivari knew if he relaxed his hold, it would take only a moment to set her on fire. But with the control off of the rest of the fire in his veins, flowing to burn that which it could reach, Kivari could focus his attention on her.

And finally, he spoke.

"Entertained yet?"

@♆　Kivari Ae ??? ???????: saint-seans, "le cynge (the swan)"

Valor knew he should not leave his home. He knew the city was burning and being torn down and that people--people like him--had been hurt. The vampire understood, and yet he had not fed in over a week. For any other vampire this would not be an issue. However, Valor's addiction had followed him into his new realm of live, haunting him. It seemed to punish him at every moment possible, and today was one of them. He had tried to stay inside. To bunker down and bear the pain and wait until it was safe to hunt. Even bags of donated blood would suffice and yet...he had none. Valor wanted to laugh at the cruelty of it all.

If Valor did not feed he would go into withdrawal. He would shake uncontrollably, his throat would feel like he had set fire to it from the inside, and he would eventually go on a mad killing spree, only to regain himself once his hunger was sated. It had happened once, and he refused to let it happen again. That was how Valor Rosewain ended up outside of his home, roaming the streets. Valor never killed his victims, only ever taking what he needed. Today he would have to take a little more though--just in case. He was not sure how long the city would be unsafe.

Valor was usually very careful. He had better senses than any human, better than most other supernatural beings, even. Yet with it being more than a week since he fed, his senses were dulled. By the time he had someone hidden in between two buildings and his teeth sank into their flesh, he did not notice an approaching figure. The vampire suddenly got a whiff of someone unfamiliar, and by the time he turned his head he had a bag tossed over it. Valor was quick, but his weakened state made him vulnerable. He had already exposed himself as a vampire, and the male had stuck something--likely a wodden stake--into his stomach. It would not kill Valor, but it would paralyze him. And paralyze it did, making the vampire's limbs go limp.

--

Valor was a vampire and did not sleep. By the time the bag had been removed from his head, he wanted to laugh at the scene in front of him. It looked to be an empty factory, perhaps a very large storage unit. It was so dingy that Valor found it comical, as if he had been transported into a Holmes novel. He eyed his captor, unable to move anything but his head with the stake still in his stomach. It did not hurt, but it was wildly uncomfortable.

This male was human, by the scent of him. Young, perhaps a bit older than Valor had been when he was Turned. The vampire sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I am unsure what you are wanting from me. You did not kill me, which leads me to believe you find some sort of value in me. I cannot imagine what that value is, but I suppose I am grateful for being given a few more moments of existence."

The human scowled and walked over to him. "You're bait," he said, and Valor could not help but notice the slight strain on his voice. The stench of stale cigarettes on him made it obvious that he was a heavy smoker, and Valor crinkled his nose as the man leaned forward. "Someone will come for you and then I'll kill 'em both!" He puffed his chest out, looking quite haughty.

Valor rolled his eyes. "Ah yes. Why didn't I realize? The good old fashioned bait tactic. Well then, while we wait for my supposed savior, would you like to hear the material for my latest thesis?" The human looked confused, so Valor smiled and continued. The vampire was unsure if anyone actually /would/ come save him. Perhaps Kivari, if the phoenix even knew he had been taken. In any case, Valor was not going to bet on it. Until then he planned on hopefully boring his captor into a sleep. The stake had paralyzed him, but he was confident he could manage to get it out with enough maneuvering.

@♆　Kivari Ae beau's mask: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/39/4f/7d/394f7d5d6df4f7ffb8883e4ecefd32a8.jpg
beau: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/99/76/9e/99769eac31e6fdbafb828ca8295d55f0.jpg
music: i did something bad by pros & icons

she promised ailell, lio, and mu lian she wouldn't do anything reckless. but by the heavens and the gods above who looked down upon mortem, the heiress could not contain her excitement. death. blood. it was what she desired. and what she desired, she will have. after all... she was beau reivana. and beau reivana was the heiress to mortem, herself.

she promised. and she usually kept her promises.... unfortunately, today just wasn't the day.

if the other members of mortem hadn't wrecked havoc yet, beau was surely crafting a hell. telltale by the piles of ash, dust, and sand gathering a trail leading towards the reivana heiress, beau's burial ground circling the one building. an apartment complex containing monsters... beasts to the human's mortal eyes. so they claimed to be as human as her, it was at that moment--with the crazed, sadistic glee twinkling within the french woman's eyes did beau appear as monstrous as she felt. she was mortal, yes.

but her bloodlust was unlike any other.

tongue darting out to at the golden ichor of an angel she had thoroughly ripped apart in glee, the burn of the hot fluid upon her tongue had earned a low moan of bliss. adrenaline coursed through her veins in an effort to numb the burning sensation of the angel's blood searing in through beau's body. normally, beau would've had the mind to not injest the bodily fluids of the beasts she was slaughtering--but unfortunately, this wasn't beau. this was death.

it had all happened within a rush, a rush of which beau had no intention of remembering once she had set a building on fire. but by the strong smell of gas igniting the air and throwing the human within a moment of disgust at the scent of natural gas filling the air. the sweltering smell of smoke, cooking flesh, and gas-- it was a penchant for trouble.

unfortunately, the trouble was the phoenix.

just barely tumbling out of the blast's way, reivana gathered her resolve before she laughed. the crimson splattered masquerade mask beau bore muffled beau's laugh of joy. the phoenix. the pure, vibrant phoenix. "finally!" beau growled out "just when i thought things were going to be boring... i'm looking forward towards you, phoenix." adjusting the black and white mask to tighten around her head, beau's dark eyes curved into crescents.

"entertain me, phoenix."

@BEAU REIVANA ↳ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 15, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: phoenix - cailin russo
↳ ᴋɪᴠᴀʀɪ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/97/78/c4/9778c4ef0562c5e9b9ad132bdcb26747.jpg

"Fight for the city and protect our people. We are under attack."

Those had been Akaedi's words before he had sent Kivari on his way, and here the phoenix was; eyes that glow silver are narrowed when a body slams against his. A moment later the man that had attacked him screams as his skin begins to literally melt, Kivari's body temperature rising and rising and rising until heat shimmers off of him in waves and his very skin is glowing white-hot. /"Monster!"/, he hears someone cry, as though it is something Kivari hadn't heard before.

His head snaps to the side, sensing the explosion a moment before it occurs. The resulting blast pushes at Kivari's body, pushes him back as fire rains from the sky and smoke floods through the street. It would be a bother for someone else, but this is Kivari. Kivari is fire and smoke and ash and heat, terrible blistering heat. He cannot be stopped or deterred by the heat or the flames.

No, instead Kivari is drawn in, stooping to curl fingertips over the dancing flame that is clinging to a board. He draws the fire up, up, dancing over his fingers until he drops it in his mouth like the most delicate of candies and swallows the fire. His veins glow white, power building in his core. It is a good thing, he thinks, that no one he cares dearly for is in this area, or they would be in danger.

His lips part, and he inhales, in the flames that he walks into as he approaches the person who had set the explosion off. The more fire that he devours, the brighter his body glows until he is a paragon of light, the fire in his veins setting his entire body to glow, ghostly flames trailing behind him when he moves.

Kivari raises his hand, fire building in his palm, and unleashes a blast right toward the person who had inadvertently fed his flames.