Chapter Text
Sanguine semper ligamur
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It was a small town nestled into the Italian countryside, it was safe, wholesome, impossible to find a stranger. Built around the outskirts of an old church they dared not approach, life was relatively peaceful.
Well.. that is what they wanted you to believe. Their town belonged on a postcard, picture perfect on the outside. Rolling hills, green grass, small farms dotting the landscape. Though… it wasn’t always perfect. It was home to many, a prison to others. To grow up an outsider within your own hometown, to be a prisoner of circumstances out of your control.. alone, ignored. It was inescapable.
This was a paradise, a Tuscan dream come true. Well.. that is what they chose to believe, looking the other way as the decrepit church’s dark shadows hung over their homes. Ignoring the shadows creeping in the night, looking the other way at the inexplicable. The abbey was nothing more than an afterthought now, its history faded, long forgotten and ignored. A superstition. A ghost story.
That was just how they liked it .
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Copia was perhaps too curious for his own good. He was not the type to let sleeping dogs lie, not once it caught his attention. He had been far too curious for too long, wandering closer and closer to the abandoned church to catch a better glimpse before scurrying back home. He’d made it as far as the courtyard before a sinking feeling in his stomach called for him to retreat.
That feeling, that dread it had to be coming from something. Or maybe the ghost stories of his childhood still poisoned his mind. Old tales of shadows that followed you, the spirits bound to the old building snatching up whoever dared to wander too close… Those were all just stories, right? Right?
Copia continued to return, never wandering further than the courtyard. He would sit and read, finding a nice patch in the sun, staying until it was much too late. He enjoyed the quiet, it was peaceful, and.. unsettling at times, but he opted to ignore that, convincing himself he was being dramatic.
He needed the escape, the change in scenery. Everything had always been the same. Choosing to be alone certainly felt a lot less lonely than being ignored. He never asked for this, he hadn’t done anything to deserve their treatment, the isolation. The solitude. So, he chose to escape it however he could. Wandering to the old church, reveling in the moments of intentional independence. It was freeing.
During his visits, he never wandered any closer. Never stepped foot into the old buildings, never strayed from the path when coming or going. He assured himself he was being careful, that it was old and dangerous, something might collapse if he got too close, he certainly wasn’t afraid of what he might find inside.
Visiting the courtyard became a little ritual of his, his safe space. He’d even started to slowly clean up the overgrowth, revealing a nice stone bench, clearing the walkways, pulling the weeds. He took pride in the little patch he’d restored, perhaps next season he’d plant flowers.
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Terzo was bored . Spend a couple centuries pent up in an old satanic abbey and see how you like it, hm? Every day was the same, his only form of entertainment consisted of picking fights with his brothers. Even that grew old after long enough.
They clung to the shadows, only venturing out during the late hours of the night. It was too easy, truthfully. The townsfolk blamed the nonexistent pack of wolves when livestock, or perhaps a shepherd or two, disappeared.
They didn’t even put up a fight.
Boring . Dull. Routine. Habitual. A nightmare. His eternal damnation was simply sameness , bound to this ridiculous town and its stupid inhabitants.
He much preferred when they were worshiped as gods. Stupid Catholicism ruining everything. The eucharist was not the body and blood he was looking for.
On what must’ve been the millionth day of wandering the halls, Terzo spotted him.
No one had approached the abbey in decades. Decades! And there sat a peculiar man, reading a book in the courtyard.
Terzo could’ve watched him for hours, and he did. Hiding in the shadows, safe from the fading sunlight. He stood and watched, enthralled by every turn of the page, every little break he took to watch the ravens as they flocked to the dead trees.
He hated to watch him leave.. but it would seem he did not have to wait long for his return. They became more and more frequent, and Terzo would sit and watch. The little bastard was even cleaning the place! He watched with unyielding curiosity, absolutely captivated.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to a month… and he could take it no longer. He had to have him, in every sense of the word.
On the evening of his most recent visit, Terzo was dressed to the nines, donning only his absolute best. A poet’s shirt with a well fitting red vest, his favorite black suit, a black lace jabot, his finest gloves. Not a detail was overlooked.
He was going to have him. There was nothing in his way now, not after the sun had set, not after the man grabbed his bag and turned to leave.
Terzo let him get a head start, counting down five minutes before following after him, salivating at the idea alone of what was to come.
A proper meal, a game of cat and mouse. It was entirely too easy, the man was clumsy and rather oblivious as he followed after him.
It was late, the streets were empty. Now was his chance.
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Something was off. Copia couldn’t pinpoint how or why, but the hair on the back of his neck stood up, he felt a chill run down his spine, every sense shouting danger. Danger. Danger. Every glance over his shoulder was fruitless, there was nothing there. He was fine . He was alone. He just.. he just needed to make it home. Then everything would be fine. Everything is fine. He was fine.
He was prey.
He started to walk faster, he was only a few blocks away… and before he could process what happened, he was yanked into an alleyway. He was pinned against the wall, it all happened so fast. He was left reeling, vision blurry, heart racing. He couldn’t even think to cry out. He just stood in stunned silence as his vision cleared, finally focusing on the man in front of him.
“Ciao, bello,” he purred, a gloved hand caressing Copia’s cheek. He recoiled at the touch, expecting a harsh blow.. but it never came.
“I-I… I ah, don’t… I don’t, eh.. have any money. I-I’m sorry, please. Please let me go, I-I won’t tell anyone. Sì? You have my word.” This had to be the weirdest robbery he’s ever heard of. A very handsome stranger pinning him against a wall, petting his face so delicately… but it felt off . Cold.
“Shh, shh. I am not trying to rob you, hm? I would never do such a thing,” he hummed.
Terzo had been patient for so long, simply watching and waiting, but now… now he could no longer take it. He was right there, and he smelled so deliciously sweet. He’d grown lazy over the centuries, tired of people poking in their business when one too many locals disappeared. He and his brothers adapted, overcame.. no one seemed to miss a few sheep here and there. And it was fine, they survived, but it could never compare to the real thing.
His hand moved lower, down from his cheek to the man’s throat. Terzo grinned, feeling his pulse racing beneath his touch.
Copia’s eyes widened, his blood ran cold when he saw fangs . This couldn’t be happening. He felt faint.
Before he could process anything, the man pressed closer, closing any distance between them. His face tucked against Copia’s neck.
Copia shut his eyes tightly, praying to whatever god might be listening that this was some sort of dream.
There was a sharp stinging in the side of his neck, somewhere between ice cold and white hot… and then numb.
His gasp melted into a mumble, his head lolling to the side, eyes lax and half lidded.
Terzo had expected symphonies, fireworks, the nectar of the gods… anything but whatever the hell this was.
He recoiled, pulling back. He looked disgusted, a drop of blood rolling down to his chin.
“What is that? ” He questioned, eyes wide. It had fallen so flat.. it was dull, acrid, wrong . It lacked that perfect metallic tinge, rich and full bodied and everything he craved. He’d chased this man down expecting a fine pinot noir and got a mouthful of watered down grape juice. It was absolutely repulsive. Rats provided a more satisfying meal than whatever that was.
Copia was dizzy. He was barely standing up on his own, everything felt foggy and distant. He hardly registered the question being asked.
“Hmm?” He mumbled in return, head lolling back against the wall.
“Are-are you anemic ? Porca miseria, that is dreadful. Are you okay? That can’t be healthy, are you eating properly?”
Copia blinked at the bombardment of questions, slowly gathering his wits about him.
“What? I-I… m’fine. Is… is.. ispensive,” he slurred. It’s expensive. And it was the truth. Even for their humble town he was dirt broke, so perhaps he was lacking here or there in eating properly, but he made it work. He was fine. He’d made it this far on his own.
“Oh, no. No no no, that just won’t do,” Terzo tutted. “Expensive? Here? Bello, I refuse to hear it. You must take better care of yourself. There is more than enough to go around, and-and they let you live in squalor? Those pigs.”
Terzo went quiet for a moment before making a split second decision.
“That just won’t do,” he repeated, shaking his head. He carefully scooped the man into his arms and started the walk back home.
Copia let out a huff in protest, but was limp in the man’s arms. He felt heavy. He was tired. His mouth was so dry .
“What’re you doing?” He finally asked.
“I am going to get a proper meal in you, and then you are going to rest, hm? Don’t you worry, topolino. You are in good hands. The venom will wear off soon, sì? You may get a bit of a headache, but you will be alright,” he assured him, his voice gentle.
This certainly wasn’t how he expected the evening to go, but he somehow preferred it. It would’ve been a shame to kill such a gentle soul, he’d certainly miss watching him putter about the courtyard. Perhaps he’d gotten a little ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help it. Everything about the man in his arms was absolutely captivating.
“What is your name, bello?” He asked softly, pausing to look down and catch the man’s gaze.
“Copia. M’Copia.”
“A pleasure to meet you properly, Copia. And I do believe I owe you an apology, hm? We have much to discuss.”