Trouble Will Find Us || Mihai [VDA]

[Lukas Iversen]

"I’m trying but I’m graceless
Don't have  a sunny side to face this"

Mihai + Lukas

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It was getting dark already, the night creeping in earlier and earlier each day as winter neared and bringing with it the cold and the rain. It was raining now too, a soft drizzle that would probably die off in a few moments but made the air feel that much more freezing, people’s breaths forming small clouds of steam as they hurried back to their homes or wherever it was they were headed.

He’d forgotten to take his umbrella, or maybe he’d left it on purpose. It didn’t really matter. He was a creature of water, used to the life in the ocean, and a little autumn rain hardly bothered him. If anything he found it refreshing, the air feeling lighter in his lungs and the water soothing on his skin. Even the cold didn’t bite him as hard as it did the humans. For that, he thought as he watched a girl walking by shivering, he was grateful in this moment, even if it also meant that there would be no sweetness of relief once he finally made it back. Curling up in front of a fireplace to warm up after a chilly walk was something he could only enjoy conceptually. Even if his home had a fireplace to begin with.

Home was also a concept that was new to him. He did not remember much of his life before, when he’d still been a human with a beating heart, but he sometimes thought about it and If he focused hard enough he might catch a glimpse, a memory perhaps, of a small house by the sea. He liked to think that house had been a home, a place where he and his brother had been happy. Here, in his new life, he’d realized that merely existing in a place did not make it home. The ocean, though it was where he’d died and been reborn and hid for most of his existence, wasn’t his home. It was just something that was essential to his existence, like food or air to humans. His rundown apartment, with its four walls and a tub and not much else, had also not been home. Maybe it still wasn’t, he still didn’t feel like he entirely belonged, but there had been a definite change ever since Mihai had moved in. Apart from the obvious improvement in the cleanliness and the increase of furniture, there was something comforting in knowing that there was another being sharing the space with you. It was a little less depressing, a little less lonely. Mihai was a quite lively individual as well, rarely still or quiet for extended periods of time, and he didn’t really mind acting as a form of entertainment for the other if it meant he could have that warmth of companionship in return.

Mihai hadn’t only made staying in more tolerable, he had also been encouraging him to actually get out more, to try and mingle with humans and the other creatures in the city. And he was trying to do that. Even though he’d preferred not to think about it, even before Mi had come along he’d been aware that he couldn’t keep hiding in the flat forever; he’d been running out of money and had been two months behind paying his rent. And though the landlord hadn’t seemed to be in a hurry to kick him out, it had probably only been a matter of time. Mihai had helped him out then, but he needed to find employment if he wanted to keep living in the city. He couldn’t just make Mihai pay for everything. But so far, he’d had little luck in finding anything suitable; people tended to get suspicious when he couldn’t present them with a pile of fancy paper documents or phone numbers he understood nothing about.

Sighing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the empty street, walking for another minute before taking a left to a smaller alley littered with restaurants and clubs and their flickering neon signs. He looked forward to seeing Mihai again, but what he wasn’t as excited about was telling him that he’d just blown another interview a couple hours ago. Knowing Mi, the other probably wouldn’t say a bad thing to him but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was letting him down, and that feeling was planting doubts of other kind in his head. He really couldn’t go on like this much longer.

He stopped on his tracks when he arrived at his destination; the backdoor of one of the restaurants Mihai liked to perform at sometimes. He wasn’t sure if Mihai was done yet, but it shouldn’t be long now so he leaned against the damp brick wall to wait, watching a couple laughing inside a diner across the street for a moment before he sighed and closed his eyes.

---

Mihai Roșu  

[Mihai Roșu]

He was in a good mood after the performance. Getting to sing and to feel rhythm running through his veins always left him feeling bubbly and warm, an emotion he was usually hard-pressed to find in the suffocating concrete of the city. Plus, the owner here paid well; he’d built enough of a reputation that the higher-end places would book him enthusiastically, and never dare to sell him short. He (his voice, his physique) brought in good money, and the weathered entrepreneur knew that losing his patronage now meant losing the little spike in finances whenever he was scheduled to perform. You let them book you once, then you hook’em, and you kept hiking the prices from there. It was a good little deal, a stunt that padded his wallet whenever he was out of meaningless little jobs to take. The downside was that he needed to build up a clientele every time he moved, and that made things rough and patchy at first–quite unpredictable–but since he thought he might be staying here a while longer… Why not? This was much more fun that being a logger or a sales clerk (and he’d tried both, among several other things).

Humming contentedly to himself, he unfastened the pins that held up his hair and let it fall into a single braid down his back. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes–uncomfortable as his performance outfits might be (so much glitter and sequin that scratched at all the wrong places), he enjoyed the way he turned heads in the street. As long as no one tried to bother him about it. Such luck was unfortunately rarer than it should be, and it proved again to be lacking when he stepped out of the dressing room with his tote bag over his shoulder. He knew that he was attractive–even without stage make-up (or any make-up, really), with red fabric still draped over his frame–and he certainly was not the only one who thought so. Unfortunately, the nuisance desired to make its presence known–appreciation from afar was an under-appreciated art among human men.

“Hey,” said the nuisance, in the form of a younger man. And, well, while Mihai hated anyone who tried to hit on him with any bit of obnoxiousness, he didn’t (on principle) hate people. Hopefully this one would leave him alone after a polite chitchat. “I saw you perform–you looked good up there.”

Mihai’s smile wasn’t entirely plastic; he did like being complimented. “Thank you. And what can I do for you? An autograph? A kiss on the cheek?” he asked, tone holding much more honeyed mockery than suggestion.

“Well, I was hopin’ I could get you a drink,” the other man said, “but I wouldn’t complain about the second option.” He laughed as Mihai looked down at the glass he was holding, half-filled with a golden liquid (whiskey, probably), and took in the slur of his words, the way he leaned against the wall.

“I don’t think I need to join you for you to buy enough drinks for two,” Mihai said with a smile as pleasant as it was blank. “Besides, someone is coming to pick me up. Thanks for your compliments.” He gave a little wave as he wandered off, but he didn’t get far before his arm was grabbed. There was barely a pause as he contemplated how much he hated people touching him without permission, before he jerked his arm away with a force that sent the man stumbling.

“I didn’t invite you to touch me,” he said, any pleasantness giving way to acidity, with a sharpness in his voice that would’ve warned off any more sober man. Even in a less-than-irritable mood to begin with, some people really had a way of spoiling it, and Mihai had learned over the years that he was more temperamental than most, much less inclined to giving second warnings.

With a last grimace and pithy upturn of the chin, he strode towards the back exit of the restaurant. Apparently the cold response wasn’t hint enough for his pursuer, however, and when Mihai reached for the door handle, he suddenly found himself being shoved forward by a weight. The momentum sent them both out into the rain (the drunk muttering something like ”I just wanted to talk, you don’t have to be such a bitch”), and Mihai’s shoulder slammed against the steel of the door. His temper flared as the pain did, dull shockwaves of ache that traveled down his arm and back. He was glad that he hadn’t passed anyone on his way out–his anger wanted an outlet now, and it never favored witnesses.

“I warned you not to touch me,” he snarled, baring his teeth. His fingers snaked around the man’s wrist, returning the other’s grasp at many times the force. His nails broke skin, and he finally saw doubt flicker through the drunken haze of the man’s eyes. It didn’t stop Mihai from reaching for the blade tucked into the bottom of his bag.

---

Lukas Iversen: He hasn't seen Luk yet :x

[Lukas Iversen]

He might have dozed off a little as he waited—or not as much dozed off as zoned out—shutting the rest of the world outside, letting his skin soak up the rain and trying to find some peace of mind. He would not tell Mihai about his botched interview until later unless he was asked. No, he would try to make it up to him first. They would go back to the apartment, and he would let Mihai hog the bath tub for once, and maybe offer to wash his hair for him. Or rub his feet, Mihai always seemed to like when he did that, no matter how graceful and weightless the iele appeared in his steps. And then, when Mihai was warm and content and happy, he would break him the news, assure him that next time he would get the job , that he could finally take some of the load off Mihai’s shoulders and make things right.

In retrospect, he should have known that wouldn’t happen. After all, he hadn’t made anything right ever since he’d crawled out of that wretched ocean.
His eyes snapped open when he heard voices, too muffled by the door to recognize until they weren’t, the back door flying open with such force it was surprising it didn’t fall off its hinges and Mihai stumbling out into the alley. Only he wasn’t alone. He watched as the stranger grabbed at Mihai’s shoulder as he tried to straighten himself, entirely too close, clearly unwanted. Unworthy.

How dare he lay his hands on Mihai.

“I warned you not to touch me.”

Maybe, if he’d stopped for a second to think, he might have realized that Mihai had things under control and there was no need to intervene. He knew Mihai was nothing but helpless and could fend for himself. But the anger surged through him, sudden and searing hot, drowning out all reason and thought of consequence until all that remained in his world was the man, and his filthy hands on Mihai, and the jealous thought of ‘mine’.

His fist connected with the man’s face with enough force to send him falling backwards, and if his knuckles tore open at the impact he didn’t notice. He surged forward, getting the man away from Mihai not nearly enough to satisfy his rage, and fell to his knees, hitting him again. And again, ignoring the hands moving to shield his face, the pleas to stop. There was blood on the man’s face, staining the front of his shirt, and it was calling out to him; something sharper and simpler than jealousy starting to take a hold of him, and in the back of his mind he knew he was slipping.

He hadn’t killed a person since his resurrection, neither had he paid much thought or memory to those who’d died by his hands. But now, as he wrapped his fingers around the strange man’s throat and the memories came flooding back. Not in the way of remorse or regret, but the deep satisfaction of getting back at those who had wronged him, the feeling of power as their lives faded away, the sweetness of their warm blood dripping down his throat. Everything else gave way to the anger and the hunger gnawing at his gut, the notion that this was neither the time or the place completely forgotten, all thought of consequence vanishing as he dug his blacked fingers into the man’s skin. The iron smell of blood filled his nostrils, mixing with the tang of seawater and rot, and had he still been alive his heart might have skipped a thrilled beat at the fear that flashed in the man’s eyes, the scream that barely made it out before he tightened his grip and felt bone snap beneath his fingers.

The man went lax beneath him but he could still feel his pulse, his body warm and alive and so fresh. He couldn’t remember ever being so hungry as when he bit into the softness of the man’s cheek, the flesh hot and sweet on his tongue like no food he had tasted in years.

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Mihai Roșu  

[Mihai Roșu]

It happened so quickly.

He hadn't even noticed that the date he'd mentioned to the unfortunate miscreant was already here. If so, he might have been more careful to manage the temper of one draugr, not particularly because he cared about keeping this particular human unscathed, but because there was a delicate balance in this world—one which a vicious mauling in an alleyway might upset. He only had time to think this much before Lukas was on the poor man. There was blood, there was almost a scream... Then nothing. Predatory creatures worked fast.

Mihai blinked down at the scene before him. An entity somewhere between human and undead crouched on the cement, digging into a broken corpse. Slowly, blood wound its way from beneath the body, across the cracks and crannies of the ground. For some time, Mihai just watched, equally mesmerized by the sight as he was troubled. What had been done had been done... But now there might be consequences to deal with. He shook his head, bringing himself out of the reverie.

After more than a century of living amongst humans, he'd gotten quite familiar with damage control. The advantage he had, however, was that situations which displeased him ended up as accidents, rather than assaults. At the very least he had a clue what to do. Within a blink of an eye, he was gone—vanished into thin air—and the security camera pointed at the lounge's rear entrance cracked, sparked, and dropped to the ground seconds later. Mihai didn't know if a digital copy had been logged, but this was the best he could do—he just hoped that no one would be able to find record of this incident. Nothing would bring hunters and regular law enforcement on their heads quicker than such concrete evidence.

He materialized again next to Lukas. "We have to go," he said calmly, accompanying the instruction with a light touch to the other's shoulder. He would have preferred to have some way to get rid of the corpse as well, but that was beyond his abilities: he could vanish himself, but not others, and there was no way he could inconspicuously move the body of a grown man. Unless Lukas could devour it fast enough, there was no option but to leave the corpse and hope no evidence led to them.

"Wear this," he added, unfastening his bag and pulling a long coat from its depths. He tossed it at Lukas before heading to the end of the alley, towards the street home. He wasn't reeling with worry quite yet. Mihai supposed he was what one would call 'stunned,' moving them on autopilot to get away from the crime scene. Any emotions associated with the incident were slow to come to the fore, and though he knew he wasn't going to feel any particular sense of loss for the gutted man on the ground, the anxiety, the anger perhaps... They were momentarily repressed by the more human parts of his mind in the immediate aftermath.

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Lukas Iversen : A FULL YEAR LATER