---

No matter his hatred of it, the abhorrence which bloomed within his chest, he could not deny the darker parts of what he had become. While he was not secretive of his nature, of the creature he was, he did not indulge in it like many others of his ilk. He did not revel in the shedding of blood, of the visceral warmth that ebbed and flowed with it. No matter the silken delicacy - he loathed it. No matter the necessity and craven madness that came, he refused to be ruled by it once again. To lose himself to that primeval disregard. An incident that had happened all of once before, halted prior and immediately after his change by the cuffs of silver that had marred him. A particularly volatile time within his life, one of the last times as well.

So it had been with measured disregard that he had walked the venues of the traveling merchants. His cold stare masking none of his distaste for their choice of temporary settlement and the unwanted attention and groups that had likewise come with the announcement. However, it did provide those within the encampment a worthwhile distraction besides seeing just how far they could press his patience.

It was on this normal patrol that he came across another, a far enough distance that suspicion was given to the figure. Silver narrowed and watchful as the last shops began to pack up and depart for their caravans for the night. The others thinned, and soon the rebuilt streets were eerily quiet. Silence a thin veneer in days since order had been restored and those who would otherwise resist either captured or executed. A task he painstakingly committed himself to ensure those whos moments were ending were indeed given something akin to honor in their final breaths.

But it was getting to him.
All the blood was beginning to weigh on him.

Distraction was sought as he began to clear the distance between he and the lingering wraith. One who had sought the salvage of the encroaching mists obscuring the burdened heavens. Through distance, there was no telling the identity, but the face remained unrecognized even at his approach. He was younger, and the telling signs of mortality had him tightening his jaw slightly as arms crossed. He remained quiet, his presence seemingly unnoticed as the young man toyed with the dagger in his hand before lifting the patch that he assumed had covered his face - an easily dismissed detail from this angle.

His brow quirked as his attention hinged upon the jar and its contents. Bemusement slowly becoming clarion as he watched the lad raise his weapon, only to hold it there. Hesitance clear. "Well?" He inquired, and in some morbid, macabre sentiment, he had almost wanted to bear witness to the havoc that would undeniably ensue. However, after another glance over him, a slight semblance of recognition lit within his cerebrum - not of the person before him, but the craftmanship of his blade. Thoughtful hum abandoned him, a different perspective taken as he held into account the flaming locks that poured from that crown and an almost dreadful sigh fled him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess, another of Alexandria's?"

---

“You’re askin’ me that like I’ve done this kind of shit before.” Perhaps a vague sense of amusement would have aligned itself to him upon such a spitfire retaliation on any other day. However, admittance would have to come that he found it... grating this evening. Many small and trite inconveniences today had wormed their way under his skin. The large meandering groups, the potential risks of smuggling and other unsavory possibilities that the merchants had drug in with them. He knew them to sell weaponry among their various trinkets, and he didn't want new access to such a thing to breathe life into the flames of the rebellion once more. A poison that he had finally cauterized from the ruins of the city.

"The more you hesitate and think about it, the less likely to commit to the action you are." His arms crossed over the breadth of his chest, his gaze narrowing to match the irritated sluice of attitude the youth posed. However, recognition soon found the boy's face, though it did little to soften the vampire's own visage. “What’s it to you old man?” The edges of his lips would quirk upwards, the motion slow in consuming his mouth, one that didn't fade as quickly as a genuine smile of mirth. It also did nothing to soften the predatory scowl in his eyes, ravenous mercury that they were. “Gonna go tattle on me or something if I say yes?”

Lips parted slightly, allowing the breath of a low sigh to depart them, an unnecessary remnant of life that no longer lingered. He would take several steps forward, lowering himself to nearly be level with the boy's features, but hovering just above. His hands folded in the space betwixt his knees. Patience. Control. While air was no longer fundamental to his survival, these two things were. They were the vital foundations of who he was - of what he had become in face of the avid hothead he had been in life. One that would perhaps match the boy's ferocity, however all that was left behind was ice.

"There's a lesson to be learned here." He would begin, a slight hum leaving him as the echoes of magic reached out in attempt to ensnare the boy, focus laying primarily upon the faulty eye and where it rested within its socket. If success came, at first, it would merely be to still the motion of the orb. His own searing stare seeking to hold that which could behold him. If success had found the first threads, he would begin to apply pressure upon them, pulling, a jagged tug. "You see, I do not owe you or your mother the luxury of a mere message. You trespass here." The words were almost enough to make his teeth grit, those lightly pressed together. No threat of enthrallment passed from him, a charm he found no humor and little use in. "And my favors to her are paid in full." His brother had certainly made more than certain of that. A headache that was barely more than he could stand. Maybe it wasn't too late to teach this one a lesson in civility. "Luckily for you, it was me who found you. I'm going to help you with your little problem here." The frigid simper would return to his façade, more pressure applied should the bindings remain. This time enough to cause the beginnings of pain. "All you have to say is please."

---

“If I’m trespassing that means you are too!” He was beginning to be even further irritated. Was it annoyance, or fear hidden under the cloak and dagger of that waving banner? Many found it easier to brave things they found fear in if they only buried the terror below pointed anger and frustration. Something else he knew from example. The first time he had encountered one of the undead from beyond the wall, he had been horrified. His fingers shivering along the pommel of his sword. He had bitten it back, dissolved it by fixating upon the friend the monster had assaulted. As long as he had focused and breathed life into that rage, he believed he could have faced anything.

He may have been right, once upon a time.

Now, however, animosity only turned into visceral bedlam and carnage. Strength that his own in mortality could never even hope to contest. No longer did his grasp waiver. either. Nothing had sparked fear within him for quite some time now. Part of him missed it, perhaps another would think him depraved, but he yearned for that simple mortal whim. He did not miss the way that blade shifted towards him, an unspoken threat, one he would nearly dare were he not teetering upon the tightrope of his own restraints. The back of his throat burned. Ash and smoke that he could nearly taste rolling within the confines of his mouth. If he was truly to hold any manner of aid to the youth and remove the broken link of sight without further harm, he could not afford to spill further blood of his own. A risk he also hoped the youth would realize.

“If I’m trespassing that means you are too!” His head would tilt, slightly. "No, I am a conqueror. Would you like to be also?" The words were accompanied by the ghost of teeth, a presence softly announced by the plight of a shallow smile that pulled too tightly at his lips. Regardless, the young man seemed to note the presence of the magic that pooled within his body, filling the fine strings of his veins, his very blood threatening to betray him.

“I’m not going to beg,” he spat, and Theo would apply just a bit more pressure to the eye within its socket, useless tissue reverberating with the inklings of patient violence. “Never asked for your help anyways.” He would roll his shoulders in a vague shrug. "There is a difference between having manners and begging. Saying please does not always mean the later option." He would maintain the level of pressure, prepared to rip the organ from its socket. "Being polite, or not, simply decides how much this is about to hurt."