Old dogs and new tricks, tag: Killian

The full moon shone brightly above the streets of Manhattan. It was an unusually cold night for the time of the year as temperature was fast approaching zero degree. Hal has been jogging non-stop for the past fifteen minutes, his rhythmic breathing in the cold, brisk air clearly visible from the distance. The cooler-than-usual temperature had made the run slightly more bearable for someone who had spent decades living indoor. The jog through Manhattan had become a part of Hal's daily route since he moved to the city two months ago. It was the first thing in the list of his rota.

Having spent his last fifty-five years hiding away in a barbershop, Hal decided he was ready for the outside world, especially after the departure of Pearl and Leo. Together they had devoted their whole life showing Hal that he's in control of his demons. For the most part, it worked. Through living a highly disciplined and structured life he was able to fight his control his urges. He had become a different man. He hadn't had a single drop of blood the whole time he was living in the barbershop. But a Southend barbershop with New York City, and Hal knew just that. And he was on his own. It took the Old One some time before he was able to adjust to being around people, but even after a month in the city, he still preferred to stay in his small Manhattan flat for his daily routines and rituals.

If there was one thing Hal liked about New York it's was its city grid. He would run straight down Columbus Avenue before crossing the park and returning through Fifth Avenue. Every single day he would run the same route. The neighbourhood was considerably quieter than the rest of the city and that allowed him to concentrate. He was focused when he ran, both mentally and physically. He kept his eyes straight ahead and kept his sight on where ever he was running to. He was turning into the park entrance when all of a sudden, he heard something from the other side of the park. It was a long, loud howling sound that lasted for at least five seconds. It made him jump. Hal wasn't totally sure if it was from a werewolf. He ignored it and continued his run down the to the centre of the park. Hal was expecting it to hear the noise again. He kept waiting but it never came. And then he started to think about Leo.

Hal never liked werewolves before he met Leo. They're filthy, barbaric creatures that belong in a cage. During his worst years, Hal imprisoned hundreds of werewolves. He chained them up and used them for his dog fights. Most were killed during the fights. The way he made the savages mangled each other to death made him feel powerful, invincible... It wasn't until he met Leo when his attitude changed.

When he heard the howl near the park entrance, he couldn't help but to think about Leo It was as if something had snapped inside of him. He began to see the faces of all the werewolves he killed over the years. His body trembled, he began to sweat nervously... his lips quivering as he ran... he had to shut his eyes and fight this guilt that's slowly creeping up from under his skin. Perhaps the full moon had something to do with it, but something like that would have never distracted him the way it did. It took a few moments for him to regain his focus as he continued to jog down that gravel path in the middle of the park.

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i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
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"Deeper," the woman cooed. Killian pulled his head from her neck and glared at her with obvious frustration.

"I'm eating here," said he irritably, "So would you please ... shut up." She frowned a bit before nodding her head. With a roll of his eyes, Killian's head dove deep once more and his lips wrapped around the wound he'd created when his fangs had punctured her skin. He used his mouth to suck on the wound, filling his throat with the warmth of her blood. After doing this for over a thousand years, one got used to feeding without having to spill a drop. Never once did he make a mess of her blood, his nourishment, not that it truly mattered considering where they were standing.

In the heat of the night, Killian had dragged this tasty young brunette into the depths of the trees for a drink. He'd glamoured her to not only let him have a drink, but to actually enjoy the act of it so that the naked eye might confuse the sheriff for simply sucking on her neck for more erotic reasons. Still, he had her facing away from the path closest to them so that he could use his vampiric vision to see all of those who got close. Like a man who was running by just then.

A man, if his eyes didn't deceive him, he most certainly recognized from several centuries ago. Could it be?

He pulled his head from her neck and stared at the man as he jogged by, trying to confirm that it was exactly who he thought it to be. When he was sure, he brought his hand up to his fangs and pressed his index finger deeply into the sharp edge.

"Is something wrong?" the woman asked with confusion. As he drew blood from the prick, he pressed his bleeding finger into the two holes on her neck. Each one healed immediately, flesh melting back together thanks to the properties of his human blood. He then drew his thumb against his lips, getting the last drop of blood from his lips and swallowing it after kissing it from his finger.

"You won't remember what happened here tonight," he said, glamouring her once again with a deep look into her eyes. The hypnosis compelled her to do exactly as he said, "Go home. Go watch a movie, maybe The Notebook or something. You seem like the kind of girl to like chick flicks."

"I love chick flicks," she said quite spacey, before walking away from him back toward the path. Then, Killian was looking out after her, down the path where the man -- Henrik York who he remembered from Europe -- was jogging away and putting some space in between the two of them. With a pleasant smirk, Killian watched for only a second longer.

In the blink of a human eye, he had tore across the forested area and back onto the path. His legs moved him quickly, much quicker than a mortal could move, his body crossing distances at speeds seemingly impossible. By the time he was back on the path and approaching the man, his hands had both shot out quite swiftly. The speed, and his strength, made it very easy for him to push the man aggressively to the point that he'd lose his balance and topple over on himself against the grassy area of the park to his side. Killian stood where he once had been, a glare at the downed man.

Then, he cracked a half-grin.

"Henrik, you son of a bitch. How the hell are you, buddy?"

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k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

henry york, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

Something was off tonight. It wasn’t the wolves. One would have to be out of their mind to transform in a public place like this. It was something else. Hal couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and he wasn’t able to shake it either. He was deep in the forested area when he sensed something coming his way. It was approaching fast at inhuman speed. Hal couldn’t see what it was, and when it came, it appeared like a blur. And then it hit him… so fast and seemingly out from nowhere. It slammed right into Hal’s side, toppling him off his feet.

“Bloody hell.” Hal lost his balance and fell to the side of the path, his black shirt covered in dirt. For a moment there, Hal was confused. It was a harmless tackle. The attack was not aiming to cause any serious or fatal injuries, yet it was powerful enough to knock him down to the ground. Hal quickly got back up to his feet and Turned around to face the attacker. Hal was ready to teach him a lesson in manners, but when he saw who it was, his body froze. He lowered his defense almost immediately, and involuntarily, when the man said his name.

"Henrik, you son of a bitch. How the hell are you, buddy?"

Henrik… Hal let out a silent chuckle when he heard that name being said. It was a name he no longer goes by. Henry, Henrik, Harry… Hal had been called many things in the past, but no one called him anything but Hal anymore. He had been going by the name Hal for almost a century now. Not Hal York, just Hal. Only someone from the past would address him by Henrik. And there he was, an Old One like him, recognizing him by that name. Hal stood there for a moment. He starred at the man and said nothing, seeming unable to find words.

The man appeared in front of him like an old ghost. The deep yet mischievous voice. The pale blonde hair. The steely blue eyes. Hal could very well remember who the man was. He never forgets anything. The man's name was Killian, and the two of them met in a thriving port city sometime during the Eighteenth century. They had something in common and were well aware of each other’s “condition.” For years, Hal and Killian would hunt together in Northern Europe. They were cruel and ruthless, stopping at nothing to get what, or who they wanted.

Hal wasn't expecting to see Killian again, but when one lived for as long as he did, he's bound to run into someone from his past. Memories came rushing back. Flashes of the two of them, soaked in blood, feasting in a Bavarian manor flooded his mind. Hal struggled to clear his head, when he started to notice something. There were traces of fresh blood off the corner of Killian's lips. He has been feeding and all this was making Hal hungry. His lips were trembled as he starred across to the man standing in front of him. It took him a few long seconds before he was able to pull himself together. To gain some self control.

His old friend’s name was about to slipped his tongue but he managed to restrain himself from doing so. “You’ve got the wrong man.” Hal was finally able to get some words across. Killian was someone from his past, someone he had respects for, but Hal wanted nothing to do with that life anymore. “Look, whoever you think I am…” he continued, every each word were ever so articulated. “I am not him.” Hal brushed the dirt off his shirt and looked away. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that Killian would forget, but he was at least hoping that he'd be left alone.

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i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
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"You've got the wrong man."

Huh?

Killian's brow line rose with quite obvious confusion, unable to understand what this man was telling him. He had the wrong man? How? He'd known Henrik best a few centuries back, of course, when the two of them had made clockwork of hunting innocent prey. The fairest maidens, the tastiest blood they could have come across. They were practically the creators of the 'bromance' before it had ever gone mainstream as it had these days.

And now, he was acting like he didn't know him? He knew it had been a few years, but wow. He really didn't know what to say. It was definitely a first for him to be this flabbergasted, shocked to the point he was speechless. Henrik was dusting himself off and walking away, and all Killian could do was stare.

For a few seconds, anyway. Eventually, he got his act back together.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked him, a little more aggressively than he might have intended to come across. Everything about this man was reminiscent of his friend from Europe, right down to the tone of voice and accent. There was no way he was mistaking him for anyone, especially since Killian could hear the blood pumping in a human and he heard no such beat from this man. He was definitely a dead man walking with a familiar British accent ... Henrik, for sure.

"Hey," he said, appearing in front of the departing Henrik in the blink of an eye. He glared at him. "I know it's been a few years, but I'm not crazy." He gave a brief sniff of the air, and then a nod. "Are you just gonna act like you don't even know me? Kinda hurts, man."

There was sarcasm in that last comment that was quite obvious, but it was true to an extent. He was happy to see his old friend was alive and well, and in New York. Why wasn't he acting the same way?

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k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

henry york, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

This was one confrontation Hal did not want to be a part of. The two men practically dined on the same platter for over a century. Both were very dangerous, and both knew fair well what each other were capable of. Killian, however, wasn’t his main concern. He himself was. The memory of them together was as a reminder for Hal of the ruthless monster he once was, and the demons he tried so desperately to free himself from.

Hal closed his eyes for a brief second, his hands clenched into a tight fist. At that very moment, Hal just wanted to be left alone. He wasn’t ready to face his past, not after having stayed clean for fifty-five years. But he knew he wasn’t going anywhere the moment he opened his eyes again. In the blink of an eye the blonde vampire appeared right in front of him, inches away from his face. Hal wasn’t surprised. Hal knew Killian well enough to know that he was persistent.

"Are you just gonna act like you don't even know me? Kinda hurts, man."

These words, and the mocking tone of the blonde bothered Hal. It was a strange feeling. Just over a hundred years ago the two men were friends. They had hunted together, and had even looked out for each other for more than several occasions. But somehow Hal felt as if he was standing in front of a stranger. No matter how much of a friend Killian once was he’s still a vampire, and at this moment he didn’t want to anything to do with them. Like an old fashioned standoff the two men were standing face to face, just inches away from each other. Hal wasn’t going to back down.

“I know you.” Hal said in an almost whispering voice, having finally decided to come clean and confront his old mate. “I know who you are, and what you do,” he continued and looked down at the corner of Killian’s lips. It was clear that the sight and scent of fresh blood were making him hungry. “But that,” He paused for a moment before he looked back up at the blonde, “I don’t do anymore.”

“So do me a favour, will you?” Hal raised his brows and gave Killian a slight nod. “And forget you saw me. Do we understand each other?” He stated. He was putting his foot down. “Because if we don’t, we‘ve got a big problem in our hands.“

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i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
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"I know you."

Well, that was progress. Killian practically scoffed at the words, happy Henrik would finally confirm that he wasn't losing his damn mind. It'd been some time since they'd seen each other, of course, but it hadn't been that long. Not too long that Killian would forget his friend's face, his accent, his overall demeanor -- though, now that he thought about it, his demeanor had diminished from what he remembered. There was something odd there, something he'd have to ask him about when --

Oh, that's what this was about. As he looked at the invisible traces of blood that remained on Killian's lips, where he had wiped it away with a flick of his thumb, he knew what his friend was getting at. Blood ... he didn't drink it anymore? He didn't get the chance to ask before Henrik was insisting that he forget what he had seen here this evening if they wanted to avoid a big problem. A problem?

He looked at the vampire with a stern face for seconds that passed, but it was only after the tension behind those words had truly settled in that the vampire sheriff did something relatively rare: he laughed, and he laughed loudly.

Killian was tickled by the words, but more importantly, by Henrik's very serious and unwavering nature. He had thought he was kidding at first, because that really just would have been what made sense. More sense than what he was dealing with. When he realized this wasn't a joke, that his old friend was being as genuine with his request as he had been those years ago when they'd brought terror to the street of many villages, there was only one sensible thing to do: laugh. And laugh, he did.

"A problem!?" he repeated, so humored that he was still finding it hard to stop himself, "Henrik, I'd kick your scrawny ass." A shake of his head as he finally began to recover, and once he had himself under control again, he furrowed brows to try and match his level of seriousness.

"So, what then? You're not drinking anymore? Are you drinking that Tru Blood shit these days? You know you might as well be ordering a Cosmo or a Sex on the Beach when you're out at the bar." Killian had to pretend for politic's sake that he was mainstreamed, but when it really came down to it, he could never live off of that Japanese manufactured crap they were trying to substitute for the real thing. Over a hundred years ago, if that stuff had existed, he would have never imagined Henrik would either.

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k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

henry york, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

Kick his scrawny ass? Hal chuckled at the idea of that. He knew all he had to do was to hold him off of a little longer and the sun will do the rest. But Hal wasn’t here to pick a fight, not when there’s no call for it.

"So, what then? You're not drinking anymore? Are you drinking that Tru Blood shit these days? You know you might as well be ordering a Cosmo or a Sex on the Beach when you're out at the bar."

The blonde vampire went on, but Hal was too out of touch to fully understand completely what he was saying him. The Old one remained silent and stood there for a moment, as he was confused by Killian’s choice of words. “What?” Hal exclaimed. Cosmo and Sex on the Beach didn’t quite have the same ring to him than it did for Killian. “What are you talking about?”

The brief moment was all it took for Hal to finally let his guard down. Ancient vampires, especially the Old ones from the Solemus family, have always had an inexplicable affect over him. Killian was no different; Hal was able to hold himself a lot better back when he had blood. Despite the age differece, Hal saw them as equal. The situation was a bit different now that he hasn’t feed for over half a century. He wanted to stop talking. To end this conversation before it went any further, but he was not able to hold his words back in front of Killian.

“I don’t drink, period.” Hal responded in an asserting tone. The debate on the use of Tru Blood had escalated ever since the Great Revelation. Although Hal was aware of it, he didn’t want to have anything to do with it. He has been avoiding news like this for years. He was not sure of the consequences for a solemus like him. He had never drunk off from anything other than a live being for the past five hundreds years. “But I see that you still do,” Hal asked, commenting on Killian’s latest conquest. He took another look at the blonde’s lips again. He couldn’t help it, even if it was only for a very brief second.

“What are you doing here exactly, Killian?” Hal continued, addressing his old friend by his name for the first time in years. They lost touch a century ago, and Hal couldn’t have possible imagined what Killian had been up since . “Were the poor old folks in the old world not good enough for you? Just what are you doing here?” It was more of a statement than a question. Hal was curious, even though he knew he’d better off not knowing. But standing in front of an old friend in Killian, he just couldn’t help himself.

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i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
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It seemed his comments about the weak drinks of the Cosmo and Sex on the Beach had gone misunderstood. Killian would have laughed, but he decided he'd laughed enough for one night. He simply made his explanation heard.

"They're considered pussy drinks for most human men," he told Henrik, "I was saying that Tru Blood is the same kind of deal for vampires." He hoped they could leave that at that. His joke had obviously not worked out the way he planned it, and having to explain a joke typically soured its impact. He didn't want to revisit it.

Luckily, Hal was moving on. His focus had gone to the point of the moment, the Tru Blood, which he insisted he didn't drink. Unfortunately, however, he also made it known that he didn't drink anything. Eyebrows furrowed, quite visibly confused. Well, that sucks. Killian made a bit of a frown at this news, though before he could comment, Henrik went to point out that he was indeed still on the prowl as always. The blonde vampire gave his shoulders a brief shrug of nonchalance, not ashamed in the slightest. It was the very nature of vampires to get their fill on living, breathing human beings. He wouldn't let something like The Great Revelation take from him the normality he had grown used to over the last millennia.

The question as to what he was doing here brought about another faint shrug, though this one was less careless and more of a 'you know how it is' gesture. "After my stint in Nazi Germany, I ended up coming over here to pursue some entrepreneur goals. I tried to find you but I never heard anything more about you. I figured we'd catch up again one day."

Making a step forward, as if inviting Henrik to walk with him, he began to bring their conversation into a move. "I just recently was appointed sheriff of northern New York City. But, enough about me. What's new with you? What brings you across the pond? And ... why aren't you drinking anymore?"

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k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

henry york, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

Hal didn’t think Killian was going to get out of his way to explain the joke. He almost didn’t want him to, as it made him feel his age and out of touch. He paid close attention anyway, and made a mental note to learn those words as soon as he gets back. He’d prefer them to be on the same level when they speak. And then something else alarmed him. “Wait you didn’t…” Hal stopped half way through his sentence when he heard that Killian had a “stint” in Nazi Germany. Hal himself had been a solider many times throughout history. He had ridden a horse, welded a shield, and even fired a gun countless times. But somewhere along the way, he realized that a man like him, or Killian for that matter, had no place in such massive conflicts like the Great Wars. There were great dangers, not only for those humans involved but for them as well. His face grew pale when he heard Killian's fought with the Nazis, but Hal wasn’t exactly surprised. The bigger question was, to what extend was his old friend's involvment.

However, perhaps the biggest surprise of the night had to do with Killian revealing himself to be the Sheriff of Northern New York. Hal laughed, thinking it was another one of his jokes. But when he realized that it wasn't a joke, he responded in a straight face. “You are serious.” Sheriff of Northern New York.. What did that mean exactly. While Hal knew of the Ugenta system, he had never been under one. Hal had always seen Killian as an equal. Now that he's the sheriff, does it mean that Hal’s under his jurisdiction? Hal had a lot of questions clouding his mind, but he was cut short by Killian when he followed up with a question of his own.

Why aren’t you drinking anymore..”

It should have been an easy question to answer, but oddly enough, it was the first time anyone had ever asked Hal that. He didn’t know where to begin. “That…” He paused for a brief second, looking over at the side of the road, “wasn’t me…” Hal was referring to his old self and he sounded ashamed. A tone that even Killian wasn’t familiar with. “That’s not who I am, not anymore.”

Hal took a long pause before he continued. “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know why I am here…” Something was telling him that he would at least own his old friend an explanation. “I spent the past fifty-five years in Britain. I spent all that time living in a barbershop, with a werewolf… and a ghost.” He knew it sounded a bit odd, but it was a fact. If it weren’t for Leo and Pearl, he wouldn’t have gotten to where is today. “Life was different.. but it was good. I have learnt how to control my urges, my conditions.” Hal was lost in this own thoughts, his mind began to ponder as he reminisced his years spent in the Barbershop with Leo and Pearl. The time they had together lasted for mere fifty-five years but it felt like an eternity. It was a strange combination, a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost... but it worked. Now that two-thirds of the equation were gone, he began to wonder if it was just a cycle, or if he’d be able to continue on his own.

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i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
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Well, it was good to see his old friend wasn't on the constant brood and depressed track that most who mainstreamed and stopped drinking blood had gone to. That is, he could laugh and laugh at something without feeling the need to wear eyeliner, or dress in all black, or sit in a quiet, dark corner away from the general public and mope alone about how he was the devil's child. Henrik was still capable of smiling, which at least said he wasn't as dead as his body might lead medical professionals to believe.

Unfortunately, however, the point of his laughter had been when Killian had announced he was a sheriff. And, it stopped the moment he realized, and said aloud, that Killian had not made yet another joke (though this one definitely would have gone over better than the last). The German glared at him, not with anger, but then again he wasn't exactly amused either.

"It's not funny, you douchebag," he said to Henrik, though there was definitely a hint of humor in his tone. Maybe Killian found it difficult to truly be angry with him for laughing. Either way, maybe it was payback for Killian having laughed at him.

Then, he was explaining that he was never a drinker, or at least, he wasn't anymore. Killian, stepping alongside him down the pathway, scoffed a bit. "Eh, I call bullshit, Henrik. We ran village after village, city after city, for a couple of centuries or so. I watched you in action? Drinking from people is definitely you. I'm just wondering when you decided otherwise. Did something happen? Did you get Hepatitis D poisoning or something?" As far as Killian knew, every race was susceptible to it.

He couldn't understand why his friend would stop drinking. Maybe it was the living with a ghost and a ... werewolf. Maybe he thought he should be more humane for some reason, maybe to impress them? He didn't get it, though. It was out of character from him, out of character from the Henrik he knew. It was like he was talking to someone else entirely. Sure, they had all matured, or grown, or become more vicious over the centuries they had lived. But in many ways, Killian was still the same vampire he was after being chased out of his village so long ago ... certainly, Henrik was the same man he had used to know?

But another question came to mind ... more of a concern, really. "You lived with a werewolf?" Killian scoffed with disgust, "What, did you keep a lint roller on you constantly? That sounds like hell, buddy. Did you get stuck in that situation somehow? Did you both work at the shop and you were forced to live with him?" Killian was known to be a little prejudice to other species, most especially werewolves, so his disgust might not be a foreign concept to Henrik.

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k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

henry york, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

"No, I did not get Hepatitis D poisoning." Hal didn't sound too amused by Killian's comment. The German's snarky humor didn't quite translate for him this time around, not when he was being dead serious when he explained that he's changed.

The two old acquaintances continued to walk through the wooded area of the park. Perhaps it had something to do with Killian's attitude, Hal seemed to be less aloof towards his old friend than he was just minutes ago. But it did little to help the fact that he was still struggling to come forth with a coherent response to the questions.

"Yes Killian, we ran village after village, city after city. For centuries, we were invincible." Hal stopped as he continued. "But that feeling didn't last. Not for me." For a moment he sounded like he was trying to preach to his old pal. "And eventually, one by one, they will all come back to haunt you. Remember that noble family in Saxony? Or that farming village in Holstein? All I have to do is to close my eyes for ten seconds, and I could still see their bloodly faces starring directly into my eyes."

Hal waited for a few seconds before he continued to move forward. He knew that he was in no position to lecture Killian. Even after all these years, he still had the bloodlust in him. It has always been with him. It is in his nature afterall. Bullshit or not, Hal has been trying to convince himself otherwise, by living that a life without blood since 1955. His desire for that kind of life, however, came long before he met the ghost and the werewolf. For as long as he can remembered, Hal has always wanted to believe that it was possible for them to change. He wasn’t expecting Killian to understand, but he still has faith in himself. More importantly, someone else had faith in him, and that was what has been keeping him going for more than fifty years. When Killian went on about his situation with Leo, Hal suddenly became slightly aggravated by his tone. He stopped again as he turned and stood in front of the blonde vampire.

"I wasn't stuck with anybody," Hal exclaimed as he was beginning to sound defensive in front of his old friend. It didn't come to him as a surprised that Killian would have such an attitude towards werewolves. He had felt the same way, and sometimes much worse, for many years. But right at this moment, Hal felt like he was on a mission. It felt to him like he was standing in front of his old self, taking a stance and trying to convince himself that he had changed for the better. "I don't know what your plan is, Killian. Or should I address you by sheriff? " Hal furrowed his brow as he asked mockingly. He knew Killian was an extreme dangerous man not unlike his younger self. Now that he's in power, Hal was beginning to worry the potential danger of he could bring to a place like this. "Just... don't cause any trouble. Are you capable of that?"

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i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
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"Just asking. Relax." Hepatitis D was a real problem for Ugentas, one of the many ways humans who were drank from tried to get back at their vampire masters. It had happened to many, and he could understand if that had been the reason for him to stop drinking ... in fear of being poisoned. Apparently, however, that wasn't it.

But then, they were reminiscing. Seeing the past flash before his eyes as Henrik brought up parts of their rampage which lasted for centuries at a time, the families they'd murdered, destroyed, misplaced ... the memories were near and dear to Killian's heart, but for Henrik it seemed as though he was feeling some sort of guilt about it all now. He glanced over at the Brit, the man he knew so well, as he looked to be a shell of the man Killian once remembered.

Where was the rage? The ambition for a good time? The monstrous behavior he had grown to know and appreciate from Henrik York so long ago? Where was the beast that had raped, fed on and tortured innocents for years? Where was the fun in this new version of his old friend?

"Wow, you've really gone soft, haven't you?" He shook his head. There was such disappointment in his tone, something that he didn't even try to hide. Here he was, thinking that by approaching his old friend he was going to be the one ridiculed for secretly feeding on humans while publicly being an advocator for vampire rights and mainstreaming. Here he was thinking he was the one that would be seen as a pussy, when to his tortured surprise it seemed Killian's decisions were made for political reasons while Henrik's were made for redemption.

He scoffed when Henrik insisted that he refer to him as sheriff, "Oh, please. You've known me way too long to start calling me by some sort of title." The two of them had stopped walking, Henrik out of what seemed like offense at Killian's comments about getting stuck with the werewolf and ghost. Killian, because of Henrik's comments about staying out of trouble.

He stared at his old friend for a moment, almost in disbelief, before shaking his head.

"Unbelievable."

He said it so simply, before approaching Henrik so that they were standing directly in front of one another. "I don't know what happened to you. I don't know if someone put a soul or something in you, or if you had your dick chopped off by the mother of the Burke twins." A reference to a very notable set of twins the two of them had ravished and fed on for days back in the 1800s. "But, whatever it is, you need to snap out of it."

"I've been where you were, back in France with Meagan. Wanting to redeem myself, wanting to be less of the monster I have been. It doesn't last, Rik, because you realize the humans you're trying to spare are just as vicious, just as cruel, just as brutal as you were born to be. The only difference? You're better at it." Killian put his hands in his pockets.

"You can't fight nature, old friend. Sooner or later, you're going to realize that. And you know I'm right."

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k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

henry york, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;

Perhaps he had really gone soft like the man had suggested. Hal couldn’t imagine himself saying something like that in front of his old pal just over a century ago. There's no denying that Hal had changed drastically over the past fifty-five years and he acknowledged that fact himself. Hal starred blankly at Killian who was standing inches away from him as he expressed his disappointment at the old one. He knew he wouldn’t convince Killian. It wasn’t his intentions, but at the very least Hal was expecting Killian to understand where he was coming from. Especially when the German vampire had practically gone through the same thing himself.

“People changed.” Hal tried to explain what had exactly happened to him. “I’ve changed. It’s been five hundred years, Killian. Five hundred years.” Hal exclaimed. There's a tone of sincerity in his words some may even find pathetic coming from an Old one like Hal. “I don’t know about you but living the life that we did, day after day, week after week... I have grown tired of it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s in our nature, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t try to change who we are.”

Hal turned around as he was about to finish the little speech of his. He started moving forward again when he halted mid-step. “It’s not easy, and it doesn’t get any easier. It has been fifty-five years since I have tasted blood, but to this day I can still see their faces. Those I have killed. Those I have fed on. Every night before I sleep. Every morning when I wake up. Those we have wronged in the past are haunting every second of my life.”

“Ever since I became a vampire I never forget anything. I can recall every single event of my life down to the details. Yet somehow I have forgotten about what it was like before I became this…. I can’t remember what it was like to be human…” Hal wasn’t trying to convince the German vampire to change. Hal wasn't trying to convince him to do what he thought was right. That wasn't his concern. In an odd way he just wanted some sort of approval and validation from his old friend. He wanted the pat on the back; to be acknowledged of his courage and sacrifices. He wanted to know that he's doing the right thing.

“Maybe by doing this, I will remember what it was like to be a human again...”

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i'll never see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . any side of heaven
i l l . w a l k . f o r . M I L E S
t h r o u g h . a . b l a z e . i n . H E L L
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Five hundred years didn't sound as long to him as it did to Henrik. After all, Killian had lived twice that length and had probably killed twice as many people as well. He had considered the faces of the people he'd killed, but for whatever reason these two were different, it had never once affected him in the way that it seemed to be affecting Henrik. The only time he truly felt remorse for the people he had killed was when Meagan had expressed distaste for him being a murderer when she found out his true nature. She had been like any human, one who hadn't exactly understood why he couldn't just change. So, he tried to change. For her.

And she was killed before he could make her like him.

"'Try' being the key word," he said grumpily as Henrik mentioned that they could change if they tried hard enough. He knew well enough that his German friend had tried to change in the past, he knew all about Meagan, but here Killian was ... drinking fresh from the body, over one hundred years later.

Henrik tried to tell him that there was one thing he couldn't remember in all the time he lived: how it felt to be human. And Killian scoffed, walking after him yet continuing to do so when Henrik had elected to stop again. He kept on moving, he kept on walking, with his eyes facing forward and not remotely in the direction of his close friend from so long ago.

"You want to remember what it was like to be human?" he asked, scoffing. "You won't. Because human life was never what you were meant for. That's like asking you what it was like to be a virgin. You'll never remember what it felt like to be that innocent, because your better years have been on the other side of it."

Always a wise man, Killian continued to bestow his knowledge to Henrik, "There's a reason they call it being 'born again.' The thing you have over humans is the fact that you got a second chance to do it right. You got the chance to be immortal, to be powerful, to live to watch the world change and revert to its past time and time again. History is doomed to repeat itself, and as a human, you'd be walking right in there with the rest of them. But as an immortal, you know better. And you're better for it."

He finally looked back over to Henrik while walking.

"Humanity is overrated," he said quite finally, "The sooner you realize that, the less time you'll waste on this impossible dream."

As if he was over the subject, he abruptly switched it. "So, why New York City? And where are you staying? You never did answer that." Eyes forward toward the open night sky once again.

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k i n g o f m y w o r l d !

henry york, CLOSED ! who;
king of my world by saliva ! lyrics;
an original by danny ! credit;