Overwhelming Hostility

[Orestes]

Prompt List

• Silver
• Stars
• Dark
• Fear
• Introduction
• Glitter
• Break
• Thrill
• Wine
• Trust

[Orestes]

T R U S T

Orestes had a history of keeping to himself - and for good reason. Like so many of his line, he was gifted with extraordinary power, but unfortunately with that power came a seeping sort of death. Like his brother, who could not help but trace every corner of the labyrinth that someone's mind held until he knew every move they would make before they made it in just one drop of blood, or saliva, or even sweat (and other less savory things that Orestes didn't think about), it was in every fiber of his being to corrupt the environment around him. He could help it no more than the scorpion could for having a venomous sting; it was just how they had all been made, in their father's eye. Bacchus was well aware of some of the fruit hanging from the trees of his blood lineage, and despite the fact that the relationships with his children were often challenging (impossible), he still had been so proud of them all.

Even Orestes, in his defiance with his brother, his maker, his father, still held some status. His maker was dead at the hands of a hunter, and he thrived, and he credited it all to the fact that he made no waves (as much as no waves could be made given his lineage, his fraternal war that had raged on for years, and other various discrepancies of his that he had to have erased from the written history, with force when it came to it). He had aligned himself with a man of science, surrounded himself with intensely powerful creatures that weren't tainted by his blood or his disease - from men who held the balance of life and death in their hands to Tristes who were far, far older than they appeared, and a healthy sprinkling of some of the best hunters he'd ever come to know, Orestes felt... at ease. Between all of this, there should have been absolutely NO reason in the nine fucking levels of hell that someone would risk the lives of every person they had ever so much as given a passing smile to would attack him.

And yet, here he fucking stood. He held a hand protectively in the way of Zahra, who had tried to warn him of the incoming attack, but unfortunately despite his focus at the man at the front of him, his power channeled where his concern was most directed - and while he was very concerned that this man had come right in to his home and announced his intentions, he was more concerned for the duress his hunter friend was under. The problem, of course, was that even after so long, sometimes his abilities would just get away from him. He was forced to break his eye contact with the man (who looked fucking homeless, by the way) when Zahra began to cough. He already knew what was happening; at the man's insistence, again, that he was not here to hurt anyone, but to help them (and potentially seek refuge of his own), Orestes dropped his guard more, turning to catch Zahra as she dropped to a knee on the ground.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and she nodded, turning her head to cough into her sleeve. She knew that even being in the room with him was dangerous - he radiated pestilence, decay, rot. But she'd taken that chance to warn him, and for that, she had unknowingly earned more endearment to him than she would ever burn out in her short mortal lifetime. "Do you know him? Is what he says true?" He paused, and slipped into her mind. Can I trust him? he asked, glancing back to the man who still stood with his hands up, though his expression of wide-eyed urgency had given way to something more akin to interest - and concern.

"Hey, what's happening to her?" he demanded.

Zahra pulled her face away from the sleeve of the arm he wasn't holding, revealing blood on it. Orestes dropped her limb, recoiling.

"He's good for it," she assured him, clearly in discomfort as she felt the onslaught of what magic had gotten away from him. It was like the worst flu she'd ever had, all at once. Or something worse - like radiation sickness, if she had understood its descriptions, right. At the moment, she didn't have much in the way of choice, so as Orestes motioned for Rafi to come and take her down the stairs, she didn't fight back as much as she wanted. He looked like a fucking rabid, wild animal - the whites of his eyes were exposed more than she'd ever seen them and she'd seen him up close in firefights with South American drug cartels who meant to capture them and torture them instead of just killing them.

"I think it's best if we present this to Cole directly." He paused, looking Rafi dead in his eyes. There was no expression on his face that Rafi could see, and he'd figured at least anger would have worked its way to the forefront of the vampire's thoughts at the very least. But no, he was empty - if Rafi had dared to reach out and look further, he may have gotten a flicker of something, but despite Orestes' line being known for some of the more explosive temperaments on the vampire map, he was clearly far more restrained.

"I'm trusting you, Ramirez," Orestes informed him, plucking his name from the ether of the commotion of minds in the home. "If you damage this trust, it won't matter what Zahra thinks, or anyone else, for that matter." He paused. "I'd offer to bring us all right to his office, but I don't think Zahra needs to be up close to any more of my direct magic for a while. You can take my car. It's right up the road - but you knew that, didn't you?" he asked. "The keys are on the counter."

And with that, the vampire was gone, leaving the magic that had been impacting Zahra to ebb away slowly, like a tide.