#vampire casandra de rolo

[obaewankenope]

Well shit, apparently I can write stuff sometimes when I really like an idea.

.

He's not a vampire, not really, not like the Briarwoods, but Percival de Rolo cannot deny that his family is... Somewhat similar.

Was. Was somewhat similar.

Some of them were born with the taint of vampirism already active the moment they took their first breath, others... Grew into it.

Percy and Cassandra were the only two who grew into what they are.

It's likely why they survived when the rest of their family didn't once the Briarwoods revealed their true nature.

The interesting thing, truly, when it comes to those who grow into vampirism rather than those born or turned really boils down to this: before the first time they feel the thirst, every injury, every bit of damage, left its mark and after that first drink, it remained.

Cassandra, left behind, abandoned, by Percy in the night and snow, bloodied and arrow-marked still bore the injuries from Doctor Ripley's devastating aim. She still bore the scars from the blade that found purchase far more often in Percy's skin than it ever did his sister.

Percy has hundreds of scars from the 'tender' mercies of Doctor Ripley and dozens more from Sylas and Deliah that he will never be rid of. Cassandra has the bite marks on her skin that came before her thirst, ones Sylas took pleasure in reopening each time he drew succor from her veins.

Those that grow into vampirism have a unique sort of blood that turned and born vampires crave in disturbing intensity.

Percy remembers every time Sylas fed from him, every time. Cassandra, fortunately, does not.

A perfect memory is something Percy alone was cursed with and something he is thankful for, even if it meant Sylas could never charm him compliant as he could his sister. For Cassandra, she forgot much of Sylas' feeding from her, blended with compulsion and repressed memories.

Once Sylas realised Percy could not be charmed he relished causing Percy agony for every moment he fed, enjoying each cry, each whimper, every tear and tremor that Percy recalls vividly years later.

It's why he seldom feeds directly, using his own compulsion charm to steal no more than a glass of wine red blood rarely more than a month. A cut is easier to explain than teeth in the wrist, after all. Especially the sense memory of such.

He and Cassandra both require far less blood than other vampires, but the cost is lesser strength and speed than born and turned. The boon, however, is they both can face daylight without burning up and holy water does little harm to them.

Something about not being turned infernal but easing into it apparently lending them some resilience to the blessed water of divinity.

Still, it's not something he's ever going to enjoy or willingly indulge in, not after the first time he fed and sought to end himself after only to fail because a demon stayed his hand with thoughts and dreams of revenge.

Fighting the Briarwoods almost revealed the secret of Percy's nature to Vox Machina, saved at the last moment by their lack of understanding, lack of knowledge, of vampires. They, naturally, assumed no vampire could walk in the day.

Had it not been for the dragons and all that followed, Percy would never have told them. This shame, this thing about himself he hates so viciously he wishes he could carve it out of his chest and crush it with his hands. Unfortunately, Percy is well aware he is cursed in the worst of ways and as such, of course Vox Machina learn of this truly horrid shame of his in the worst possible way.

Exhausted, beaten, with their backs against the wall, they are at their limits and Percy, to keep his friends, his family, alive has to do something he despises and fears more than he ever has the Briarwoods.

He has to drink blood. Directly.

There are no wineglasses to be found in a cave, after all.

"Vax," he says quietly, hating himself for this, for asking the only other of their group who knows what it feels to be bitten and fed from this, but Vax is the only one who has not been affected by the hints of poison in the air, resistant to its effects as both the Raven Queen's Champion and as a rogue who willingly made his body resistant to poisons through time and effort.

There's no one else Percy can drink from without risking failure.

He still wishes be could gnaw off his own arm than ask this of Vax, however.

"What Freddy? If you hadn't noticed, I'm a little busy right now," the rogue says, not glancing up from his work trying to bandage the wound on his sisters leg. She's nearly unconscious, downed and weakening more and more the longer they're trapped here with no way out and facing enemies stronger than their team.

"I have a plan to get us out of here-" Percy begins, cut off by Vax's snort of dry humour.

"Great, get on with it then," the half-elf tells him and Percy sighs.

"I need your help to do it, however," he continues and here Vax looks up at the gunslinger at last. Percy knows the rogue can see the distaste on his face, the clear unhappiness with the plan Percy has and Percy knows Vax assumes it's because he needs the rogue's help. "I do not wish to ask you this, since I'm well aware it is not something to enjoy the prospect of, or something you would ever agree to otherwise, and I do not wish to even ask it but-" Percy clears his throat. "Desperate times call for desperate measures I'm afraid."

"Jeez, Freddy, is asking me for help that distasteful for you?" Vax bites even as his hands are gentle on his sister, finishing tying the bandage and shifting to move closer to the gunslinger knelt a few feet away. "Sorry to have to hurt your pride and shit but-"

"I need blood."

That, at least, shuts Vax up like nothing else. Percy's words are sharp, curt, but quiet. He knows the rogue can hear the shame, can see it in his eyes as the gunslinger looks just to the left of Vax's face. He can still see the expression on the half-elf's face but at least he's avoiding eye contact.

"What?"

"I'm- unfortunately I am rather weakened right now and the only way to get out of this is if I-" here Percy's voice falters, unable to say the words that Vax needs to hear but... Well, he doesn't need words to convey his meaning.

Fangs are much more clear about this sort of this.

The sharp sound of Vax drawing a dagger and raising it defensively, positioned between Percy and his sister is, well, it's both expected and an agony. After so much together, all the things they've been through, to have Vax again acting like Percy is a danger, a threat, to his sister is-

Well, it would kill him if he were a lesser man.

"You're the only one who is resistant to this poison, otherwise I wouldn't ask," Percy continues to explain, quietly and as calmly as he can even as his heart pounds with the agony of being treated like a threat again.

"You're a fucking vampire!" Vax's voice is sharp but not as loud as an out-right yell, the half-elf clearly not willing to draw the attention of the creatures searching for them. "What the fuck?"

"It's a long story, one I swear I will- I will tell you but right now, Vax, I'm sorry but we don't have time," Percy says and he knows he's begging, can hear the pleading in his tone as he still does not look at Vax directly. Does not try to compel the rogue who knows, intimately, how easy it is for a vampire to do as such.

"When?" Vax asks and Percy knows what he's asking. Not when will Percy tell him. No.

"Not all vampires are turned, some are born with it and others... Others grow into it with time." Percy glances at Vax's face, brief and just long enough to see the distrust on his face. "I didn't feel the thirst until I was nineteen. After-after everything happened."

That, Percy can tell, gives Vax pause. Enough for the distrust to waver just enough for the rogue to take in how clear Percy's shame is right now. His hatred of this need is.

"How often?"

Percy licks his lips. "A glass once a month. Never any more than that." Not since the first time at least.

There's a deep rumbling off in the distance, close enough to be of concern, too close to ignore. Vax has to make a decision now or they're all going to die.

Vex will die.

Percy admires Vax, he truly does, for how willing he is to sacrifice for his sister. Percy knows Vax would never have ran from his sister like Percy did. Would never have left her in the snow, looking dead, bleeding out with a monster chasing them both down.

So, as much as he hates it, Percy knows Vax will agree now to save his sister. The knowledge that Percy is forcing Vax to choose to let himself be fed from churns his stomach like he's drank a vat of acid. Compelling him would have been kinder but Percy cannot bring himself to do that to someone he l- to Vax.

"Fine," Vax snarls, shifting to his feet and approaching Percy with the dagger still drawn. "Take your fucking blood but don't you dare look at my sister for any."

"I promise," Percy says, slowly standing from where he's been knelt this entire time. Vax tenses more than he already was, dagger handle creaking in his grip. "I won't drink from your neck, Vax. I don't- I refuse to do that."

"Then where, hmm, de Rolo?"

Percy carefully reaches out for Vax's hand, the one not gripping the dagger, and feels the moment the half-elf flinches at the touch. He doesn't say a word about it, only raises Vax's arm, turning it slightly to angle his hand palm up.

"You wrist," he says, quietly. Still not looking the rogue in the eye. "The injury-"

"Bite."

"-the bite will heal easier and I can- I can control the amount far easier at the wrist than- than elsewhere." Percy risks a quick glance at Vax's face. The rogue is staring at him intently, distrust and suspicion and something more in his eyes. Percy drops his gaze the moment Vax's eyea widen as the half-elf realises Percy is looking him in the eye.

"Fine," Vax says sounding like he's agreeing to have something gut him and resents it. "Do it then, de Rolo, we don't have all day."

Percy swallows back words that Vax will not appreciate or care for. He lowers his head to Vax's wrist, held so carefully in Percy's grip.

Just before he bites, he cannot help but pause and say, almost whispering, "I'm so sorry for asking this of you Vax."

Then he bites.

The rogue let's out a hiss but otherwise doesn't react, tension in his frame holding him still even though Percy knows Vax longs to slash at him and get away away away.

Percy's instincts to hold his prey are strong but his will is stronger. He keeps his touch on Vax light and not restraining in the slightest. It's honestly less than thirty seconds before Percy has drank enough, one, two mouthfuls, a match to a glass, and he's pulling away, licking over the puncture marks to seal them in a way Sylas never did for Percy or Cassandra.

Vax shouldn't have to have scars from this, Percy's greatest shame.

The rogue shivers at the feel of Percy's tongue, the sensation intense after being drank from, but doesn't resist. Percy drops his wrist and steps back, still not looking the rogue in the eye, and nods.

"I will be back in a moment."

Percy leaves Vax there, shaking minutely from what Percy has done to him, forced him into doing to protect his sister yet again from Percy and his mistakes. He leaves and slips through the cave system, taking on enemies with claws and teeth he would not have been able to best before drinking Vax's blood.

He cannot think about that blood, the taste of it, not when his body is facing injury from what Percy must do. He'll crave it and Percy fears he may not have the control necessary to not take from Vax what he has no right to take.

Vax's blood is his own, Percy has no claim to it just because his cursed nature craves it.

It's the work of a half-hour, at most, to dispatch the remaining threats to Vox Machina, the poison in the air clearing with each defeated enemy until its completely clear again. Percy forces the rocks that had sealed off their exit route aside, enough for them to pass through, and returns, hesitantly, to where Vax kneels beside his sister.

Vex's complexion is much improved from the lack of poison in the air. She is unconscious, however, and will need Pike to heal the injuries she sports.

Percy keeps a distance from her, her blood calling to him like a meal to a starving man. Vax notes his return with suspicion but doesn't stop Percy from collecting their bags and shouldering them as the rogue picks his sister up and begins heading for the exit.

"We're talking about this later, de Rolo," Vax says, voice firm like the blade of his dagger, and Percy nods.

He's made sure to keep himself in Vax's line of sight this entire time, walking with twice the space between them than was there after... After Vex's death because of Percy's stupidity.

"Of course, Vax'ildan."

"If you ever hurt anyone on the team, I'll kill you," Vax promises and Percy doesn't let the rogue see the pain that promise causes him even as it relieves a fear at the same time.

"I will hold you to that, Vax'ildan," Percy tells the rogue just before they reach the exit of the cave and the others, mostly recovered from the poison, reach them at the exit.

Vox Machina leaves together but Percy cannot help but feel like an outsider to their team once more.

No one should trust a vampire, after all. Not if that vampire is Percy, at least.

Cassandra would never harm anyone. Her thirst, he knows, was sated under compulsion from Sylas. Percy has no excuse for his own actions.

He's been damned from the moment he was born, after all.

He's just damned a little different now, after Orthax.

The distrust is warranted. Vax'ildan, like Percy, knows just how dangerous a vampire is.

And Percy is a vampire, after all.

Just showed my dad The Legend of Vox Machina (he loved it)

but he was a bit disappointed because he thought that the De Rolo’s where going to be a rival family of vampires to the Briarwood’s

and now I can’t get that out of my head

[ahugenerdynerd]

Just showed my dad The Legend of Vox Machina (he loved it)

but he was a bit disappointed because he thought that the De Rolo’s where going to be a rival family of vampires to the Briarwood’s

and now I can’t get that out of my head