Moonless - The Eternal Night

The Fallen

Orion

He had seen many injuries before. He had experienced many himself. He had seen people die, seen them torn apart, with organs littering the ground. People being eaten alive by ghouls, humans being smashed by the massive stone claws of gargoyles. So many wounds.

And yet, what he saw before him shocked him. The man in the doorway. Clad only in trousers and slave shackles, nothing covered his upper body. The completely scarred, abused, injured upper body. So many scars. Burn scars. Cuts. Gunshots. Even more that he couldn't place. Unimaginable torture, captured from a living, breathing body.

Just enough healthy skin remained to discern the proportions. Above it was a face. One with clear, distinct features that seemed almost chiseled. A statue. With long blond locks and eyes.

Sweet dawn, those eyes.

They were black. Not like the vampires'. The iris, the pupil, both were of an absolute black, indistinguishable from each other, and the expression was so... empty. Dead. Soulless. No light reflected in that gaze. No glow. No emotion. Absolutely nothing.

New wounds marred the scarred torso. Clear welts. Dark spots. Cuts oozing fresh blood. And bite marks. On the neck. On the chest. On the stomach. So many bite marks.

As if an entire army of ghouls had descended upon him.

Or one vampire.

One who must have beaten him until he could barely stand, as the man leaned against the door frame.

"Someone's in a good mood," Virion remarked into the silence.

Kenji rose, all aggression gone, and allowed the silver-haired one to come to his feet, murmuring as he did so: "Or a bad mood."

"Or just a mood," came from John, who also got up.

The man in the doorway raised his hand in a silent greeting and took a swaying step into the room.

Instantly, Virion was at his side. "Whoa, easy there, big guy, careful. I've got you."

The shifter began to lead the giant to the sofa corner, Kenji appeared on the other side, wrapped an arm around the blond's waist, and helped to gently guide the man to the sofa, John was already there, ready to attend to the injured.

The elf gave instructions: "Kenji, my case. Viv, drinks and cooling gel are in the fridge."

Orion had slid to the other end of the sofa, silently watching as both shifters rushed off without even a half-hearted protest, dark seriousness on both their faces. John, on the other hand, began to feel the blond's side under the blue bruises that stretched across the entire side of the scarred skin.

"Is something broken?" he asked.

The big man neither flinched nor showed any other reaction, instead, he raised his hands and began to form signs in the air.

He can't speak.

Orion felt different. Again, it balled up in his stomach. Hate. Not the bright roar, but a knot in his stomach. A weight. One that settled in him. Grew roots.

John nodded. "I can't feel anything, but if the pain doesn't ease up, let me know."

"An X-ray machine wouldn't be a bad investment," came from Virion, who climbed over the back of the couch and sat between Orion and the strangers, although he himself was a stranger as well. The human was grateful for the barrier between himself and the injured, yet he felt bad because he hardly dared to look at the guy.

"Here," the silver-haired one held out a bottle to the larger man and tossed a tube to John. "Doc."

The elf nodded and unscrewed it, while the injured man poured the entire bottle down his throat. Shortly after, Kenji returned with a case, which he handed to the elf, who placed it on the table and opened it.