Blood Moon: CH 2

Chapter 2

Morning comes with the gentle warmth of the sunlight, rising slowly from the horizon. Birds chattering as they fly out of their nests to wherever they may find food.

It is the very picture of a peaceful morning. However, the same can't be said elsewhere.

Earlier than even the sun, he woke up from a dreamless sleep. Out of routine, regardless of his condition. The feeling he got was akin to climbing out of a deep hole; he woke up sluggish and disoriented. What more the moment he opens his eyes he was greeted with unfamiliar environment. Looking around, he found himself in a bedroom that wasn't his own.

Squinting his eyes against the headache shooting through his skull, he slowly adjusts his focus. The room is simply furnished with the bed he's lying in, a wardrobe and a work table. Heavy curtains adorning the windows are tightly shut, blocking stray sunlight.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position which much difficulty. Shaking his head once, he tried to rid himself of the headache. Looking down on himself; looks like nothing is out of place..-

Eh?

 

The shirt he's currently wearing is definitely not his own.

Beads of cold sweat start to form.

What- what happened last night?

Frantically, he searched his memory, navigating through the thick haze clouding them.

 

 

He remembered trudging through the thick forest at the outskirts of the village. The cold night air bites at his skin, however it wasn't enough to quell the fire burning from inside his body.

Wolves howling in the distance sound much closer than they really are. Every single brush of the leaves is acutely sharp to him, grating on his already frayed nerves. His eyesight is similarly strange with red tingeing the corner of his fields.

 

It was hard to breathe.

 

The next thing he noticed was how terribly enticing the scent of human blood was to him.

That alone was enough for him to lock himself in out of fear he might attack someone.

He didn't know how much time passed until it became unbearable. Slowly he's losing his grip on reality. Something was threatening to claw its way out of him.

Somewhere in between then and after, he found himself tumbling outside of the church's hall. Sound judgement was no longer with him at the time, simply moving forward on pure instinct.

It didn't occur to him just how easily he tore open the heavy wooden door.

He didn't know why his feet brought him here. By then, he can only pray.

 

Maybe it was his prayers that brought the priest to him.

 

"Where have you been?"

 

The familiar timbre of the priest's voice brought some clarity to his mind.

 

Though he's not sure which part of his prayers that was answered to when the priest cut himself.

The scent of his blood was strong enough to send him reeling.

He was weakened enough to be easily man-handled by the priest, powerless against his unyielding presence. He was thoroughly stunned by the action he could only brace himself for whatever may happen.

"Don't struggle too much, or else you'll get hurt."

The priest's eyes glowed yellow from the reflected moonlight, the sharp gaze seem to pierce right through his soul.

His faint protests that follow was effectively silenced when his lips were sealed with the priest's own.

 

 

His hand flew over his mouth at that particular memory.

Oh my-

He still can taste the priest's blood on his tongue.

A soft groan to his right startled him out of his musings. Looking to that side had him stifling a shriek.

The man in question is just right beside him, lying prone with his face half buried in his pillow. Shirtless.

What is this situation?!

Brows drawing in, grumbling as if telling him his thoughts are too loud.

Sucking his breath in he chose to stay as still and quiet as possible so to not wake the sleeping man up.

 

Soft breeze blows through a slight crack in the window, fluttering the curtain. Birds singing in the garden just outside the room, sounds of their flapping wings audible as they pass near to the windows. An inordinate amount of time passed spent watching the steady rise and fall of the priest's back. His usually slicked back hair mussed up from sleep.

 

Gradually letting the tension out, calming himself down. The terrible headache he woke up with is more or less bearable now.

Now, what to do?

 

Last night was no dream, and neither was whatever he had gone through long before that. Again, looking down on himself he really couldn't see any differences at all.

(However, he can immediately tell the slight coldness to his skin and the pallor to it. But none hits harder than when he places a hand over his chest only to feel nothing.)

 

"What are you doing?"

He almost jumped out of his skin when a deep, gruff voice suddenly came from next to him.

"Father! Yo-you're already up-.."

The man simply scratches the back of his head - still groggy and half asleep. The action brought his attention to the wound from last night.

"-Your wound?"

"Hm?" Pulling the arm down, he took a look at the injury. "Looks good."

"Eh?" Scooting closer, he similarly inspects it. Sure enough, only a thin line remains of the cut. 'It's healed..'

"Huh, I guess your saliva has healing properties. Hm. My tongue's doing fine too."

His skin may have become colder but that single line effectively heats up his face in mortification.

"..I am truly sorry for my misbehaviour.."

The priest heaves a long sigh as a response. "As far as I'm concerned, you were dying of starvation. Although my action was not exactly excusable too."

Rolling the words around in his mind, one thing occurs to him. "..I'll have to feed on blood from now on."

"Just feed on me, then."

Looking at the priest in disbelief at the suggestion. "I can't do this to you!"

"Look-"Rubbing a hand down his face, "-You're the only one who managed to return right. You're the only clue we have to this problem. Also, a mild blood loss won't kill me."

He's pretty sure anyone with a sound mind wouldn't discuss this matter with such nonchalance, like he was counting the number of pillows on the bed. "Still, Father, to burden you with this-"

"Mikage."

"-Eh?"

"Mikage Eisuke. My name. It's easier later on, so you can drop the 'Father' thing."

"Well, it is your title, so-" The priest's eyes narrows just a tad bit. "-I, I get it.., Mikage."

"Now that's more like it." The wide lopsided smile he gave is strangely charming. "I suppose I can call you Murasame in return? Don't look so surprised, everyone around here talks about you."

"I..didn't expect to be quite famous.." One after another. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Mikage rolls out of bed, facing away. "Whatever you feel like doing." He gave a shrug to that. "Just watch out for sunlight and silver-based items. Also don't stray too far from here."

'From me,' so his piercing gaze say. And Ryo found himself trapped in those eyes.

Their little conversation falls at that. Mikage left shortly after leaving Ryo to roll around with his thoughts.