"You did not just say that." She laughed.
Then a challenge posed itself. “Prove it?”
"Yeah—- about that…
Well, let’s get real: I did prove it to you once or five times in the recent past.”
out of clara: so i decided to go through my old tag (which was soufflegirlclara), and these were some of the beauties that popped up. click on them to make them bigger so you can read the whole post oh my god.
"Oh, well then, I’m looking forward to your magic hands, Mr. Northman."
"That’s me— Eric ‘Magic Hands’ Northman."
Godric gave two looks— the first to Jo which portrayed the surprise he felt, and then to Eric as a warning to not be a pain in the ass about this situation.
"It’s Jo’s choice to share with others what she deems appropriate," he said for both of their sake.
"Unless of course you don’t feel that this is worth sharing with your brother at all," he allowed in an even tone.
Eric’s laughter and the fact that Godric seemed upset that she had kept their relationship a secret only made Jo feel worse. Her lower lip began to wobble and tears misted in her eyes.
"It’s not that I didn’t want to tell Jimmy." She sniffled. "I love you both so very much and want my family to know you and love you as well, it’s just…I don’t know how to tell my brother. I’m afraid of how he’ll react.”
"He’s going to react the same way any older brother would react if he found out his only sister was in a relationship with two dangerous vampires."
That sounded so ludicrous when said aloud that Eric almost laughed.
He didn’t for Jo’s sake.
"Unless he surprises you— which is also possible."
Clara nodded. “So you don’t really have a favourite book, then?” she asked, watching as he dog-eared the page and shut the book before putting it down on the table. She decided not to comment on his choice of how to mark a book page — isn’t that was bookmarks were for? Because quite frankly, folding down the corners of the pages was a travesty, in her eyes. She would rather treat her books with an odd sort of loving respect instead of bend the pages. “I’ll have to read it then, either while we’re here when you’re done with it, or some other time.”
She hopped up from the arm as soon as he stood and then followed him around the cabin, making appropriate nods and noises where necessary to acknowledge that she was taking in where everything was. If there was one thing that put a smile on Clara’s face, was how he referred to each room in Swedish. She’d never been one for Scandinavian or Germanic languages, thinking they sounded too harsh, but coming from Eric it just sounded absolutely lovely. Perhaps it was to do with the fact he was actually Swedish, and not some secondary school student trying to learn for their exams and not exactly getting the accent right.
"I can see why you love it here," she said, grinning up at him. "Also, I think I’d like to hear you speak Swedish more." Never mind the fact she probably wouldn’t understand it — she just want to hear more of his home language. "Anyway… I’ll probably have a look outside when it’s more light. See what it’s like."
"It would be too hard for me to choose one favorite—- almost like a betrayal to every book I have ever enjoyed." Eric grinned again. It was nice to have someone to talk about ‘intellectual’ topics with. He couldn’t say that he had many friends, and it had been a long time since he had had leisure time.
"I promise that you can borrow it whenever you like." He patted the book fondly.
His cabin in the mountains was not large by most standards— especially American standards. It was cozier that way, and Eric enjoyed it more than any ‘McMansion’ that would have looked too out of place here. This was his homeland, and he respected it too must to destroy its integrity by bringing unnecessary foreign luxury to it. This was a place to retreat from all of that anyway.
He realized that this was the first time he had ever brought a human here since building the place. In fact, only two or three others had ever come to visit and it wasn’t exactly on vacation.
Eric debated sharing that with Clara.
"You want me to speak more Swedish?" Eric cocked his head to one side like a human Labrador. "I can do that."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Eric leaned against a support beam. “You are more than welcome to explore the area. There isn’t much for a few miles except for trees. The village is about seven miles south. and you’re not likely to see anyone else around here until you get there.”
That had been the exact purpose of building his get-away in the exact location that he had.
Peace was a lie.
There was simply no such thing; not in life, and certainly not in death. When Godric had met the sun that day, watched by the girl with the dandelion hair, he had done so in hopes of creating peace for his race, and peace for himself. A beautiful afterlife with plenty to drink and a bright warmth to bathe in…
Peace was an utter lie.
The world he’d come to had been nothing more than chaos. A dark Netherworld filled with creatures from every era, dark and light, slipping between trees with sharp little daggers, intent and somewhat forced to hunt for the remainder of their eternity. It would be a long eternity.
And every so often, people would go missing. Grabbed from something above, ascending and never returning… it sounded painful, and with all they had done, Heaven certainly wasn’t taking recruits from that place. Where they went… was a mystery even to the ancient Gaul vampire.
For a long while, running had been the only option. But as expected, that Force eventually caught up to the ex-Sheriff, and up he had gone… every bone had broken, and breathing (albeit necessary), was difficult to say the least. His skin seared, and every organ felt as if it were about to burst;
until that lying peace came crashing down.
Back into the real world.
It had taken a few days but, eventually, the damaged and desperately-hungry vampire had found his way to Fangtasia, vision swirling and body near collapse. “Mitt barn, hjälp mig… [My child, help me…]”
The black device was nestled in his large hand for the first time in over a week. Eric was more surprised that it still had any battery life, and not the seventeen missed calls and six text messages he had.
It was easier to shut everybody out.
Pam had called the most, but there were a few calls from others as well. Either they had heard about the unfortunate event and wanted to give their useless condolences or they were blissfully ignorant and wanted Eric to pay them a favor.
He was in no mood for favors.
He wasn’t sure if he ever would be.
Eric had a mind to return Pam’s calls, at least to lie to her and say that he was taking care of himself.
She was respecting his mourning time by leaving him alone, but eventually she would want to speak, she would want answers.
He let the cell phone slip out of his hand and back into the desk drawer.
Something deep in the pit of his stomach was making him feel wholly uncomfortable, churning and coming in waves so as to cause nausea.
Eric grimaced as he lowered himself slowly into the chair behind him. It was either extreme hunger pains or some badly timed illness.
Strange goosebumps rose on his pale flesh and he had the sensation of a cold sweat but knew it was impossible. Something was definitely not right.
His moping and raging was taking a toll on his physical form.
A voice sounded from somewhere distant—- or was it in his head?
That voice sounded freakishly familiar, and yet he didn’t want to think of who it belonged to.
Calling in his native Swedish tongue— someone was trying to reach him.
Only one being ever referred to him as ‘Child’.
GET OUTOF MY INBOX WOMAN
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE.
;after the resurrection
I will be with you always.
What a weak sentiment.
Eric had never felt more alone in his entire existence, and yet that was the sentiment that his maker had chosen to leave him with.
Not a temporary leave either, no. This was forever, for the remainder of an eternity.
What a weak sentiment.
Eric had spent the previous several weeks in a hazy cloud of anger and spite. He wanted revenge, and it was selfishly brought on. He hated his entire race, the entire loathsome, self-righteous breed of demons that he had once felt akin to.
They had turned his maker into their own personal martyr and let him destroy himself in the name of sanity, in the name of forgiveness. Because that is what they wanted, right? What they needed.
Something as old and as powerful and as inherently dangerous as Eric’s maker could not exist on this planet without having to suffer some consequences for the actions of everyone else.
What a weak sentiment.
Eric was sickened by everyone and everything; dead or alive. He surely wasn’t wise enough, wasn’t unnerved enough to understand these things, the hidden messages that his maker had obviously understood.
Eric would spend the remainder of his eternity in a state of misunderstanding. Now he had to be the one to suffer in order to appease every hateful, egotistical maniac involved.
All he could do was sit in the basement of Fangtasia and fantasize about what his next grand move would be. What would he do in order to extract revenge of the AVL.