"A burden to keep, through their inner communion, Accept like a curse an unlucky deal." The Eternal, Joy Division
He's cold, so cold. His naked body left barely resting on the stone floor, hands shackled above his head. Listening closely, as his vision has been robbed by a firmly placed blindfold he can hear the steady drip of water somewhere nearby.
The sound is almost as maddening as the stale scent of corpses long since removed.
There are cold hands exploring his flesh, no telling how many and he kicks out with what little strength he has left. Inhuman giggles surround him.
"He reacts not to our touches, sisters." One of his unseen visitors hisses. "He lies dead to our hungry lips!" Another wails.
"Mayhaps one of our brothers shall please him?" "Nay, his body hungers the flesh that is female. Where's our little sister?"
"Yes! She's the one who felt the connection! Bring the little whelp!" "She has yet to reach her thousandth birthday. She's not ready."
"But yet she loves....." He's left in blessed silence, and in this silence the memories arise......
An undetermined time ago:
He lies broken and bleeding on the battlefield, the haze of pain leaving his vision a blur as he tries to view the activity around him.
Inhuman shrieks fill the air along with the screams of the dying. It is then that he feels her cooling touch. Cracking his unwilling eyes open, he sees the beautiful face of his savior and her sheer terror at the sight of him. Red eyes stare back at him....