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Emizel’s not a good person. He’s not afraid to admit that to himself; he’s more rotten than the corpses of those he’s killed in a frenzied hunger, and probably more dirt-ridden too. There’s blood on his tongue that matches with what’s smeared across his knuckles and every look cast at him is a wary one. He likes it that way. In this world, only the fighters survive. Emizel’s bathed in enough violence to bear the crown of a king.
Most would find it lonely. The fear that emanates from most everyone he speaks to, the way he lives on the fringes of society. Not Emizel. There’s power in his existence too, from the way he’s regarded within the Demons, to the tearing of flesh beneath his bare hands. Everyone looks at him like one would a small child, with pity and disgust and fear tangled into something that breeds the phrase “Poor kid, he must’ve been raised wrong if he’s like that. ” It’s something that stopped bothering Emizel a long time ago.
Being turned only pressed this into him further, reaffirming that there’s no place for him to live a normal life. Frenzies, hunger, blood. That’s all he knows, all he’s good for; even amongst vampires he lurks on the fringes and within the shadows, sticking out as wrong . He doesn’t care for their pompous flair or intricate politics, after all. Emizel trails after Arthur for the knowledge he can glean, but lets most of it pass him by unless it’s far more practical than such flimsy things as laws and morals. At the end of it all, he’s not going to fit in here.
Of course, he isn’t a killer; at least, not in the ways he was when he first turned, hungry and afraid. He takes the safe amount, follows Arthur’s lead in hunting and feeding. Still, he isn’t one to avoid a fight, and it gets him killed in the burning remains of Club Crepuscule. He had staggered back to the only home he knows, in the form of Soda and his beat-up car, and then to the hotel Arthur and Shilo have holed up in for the night. The taste of ash fresh on his tongue, he’d stumbled his way up to the room and exhausted himself with too many politics he doesn’t care for. Rotten, broken, bad, that’s what he is and what he does best.
So he’s not prepared for Shilo to hug him with so much force they both end up on the floor of the hotel room; he’s not prepared for tears, he’s not prepared for being called brother , he’s not prepared to have been missed.
All Emizel can do is fumble his way through the motions, hesitating for a few long moments before holding his brother close and muttering half-baked reassurances. Shilo’s small in his arms, curled in on himself and sobbing quietly, fingers curled tight into the material of Emizel’s jacket. It’s a level of emotion and concern that he isn’t used to, and one he surely doesn’t deserve. Still, he holds Shilo, his brother, his family , and pretends he knows what he’s doing.
“I know…” Shilo pulls back a bit, uncurling one hand to wipe at his own face. “I know you’re back, but… Emizel, I just found out I have a brother, and then I lost you. I don’t– ”
“Hey, I’m fine, see?” Emizel grins at him despite the hollow pit in his chest at the prince’s words. “I’m, like, a cat, or something. Nine lives.”
“Eight left…” Shilo’s fist curls tighter into Emizel’s jacket. “Promise me you won’t waste them.”
Emizel turns his head, guiltily letting his gaze settle on the edge of the bed across the room. After everything, with who he is, he finally has the chance to be more. There’s power to be found in this, in the lives he can spend to propel himself forwards and upwards. He’s no stranger to putting himself in the line of fire – isn’t that how he went and got himself turned to begin with, anyway? Better him than Arthur, or Shilo.
“I can’t promise that. But… anything dangerous pops up, you send me in, yeah? I’ll come back… Eventually.”
Silence makes Emizel turn his attention back to Shilo, who’s regarding him with a look that isn’t entirely readable. Emizel doesn’t like the amount of pity he can see on the other boy’s face.
“Even so, I’d rather prefer, you know, not to see my brother killed…”
“Hey, it’s not like I want them to kill me,” Emizel says, flashing him a grin, “But if it happens, better me than you.”
“But —” Shilo looks away, biting his own bottom lip in a way that makes it look like he’s swallowing back words. “Nevermind.”
Emizel turns his gaze to the dark sky out the window, not able to stand looking at Shilo for a moment longer. The hurt, the pity, the fear; sometimes, even for Emizel, the prince is far too much. Too much bleeding emotion and care and softened edges. Too much of it aimed at Emizel, in ways he doesn’t know how to comprehend. At the end of it all, he doesn’t really know that much about family, anyway.
“Oh, sorry, I got, uh…” Shilo pulls back his other hand to gesture at Emizel; the movement catches his eye, but he doesn’t fully refocus his gaze. “Tears, everywhere.”
“I’ve seen worse.” Emizel pauses. “I, uh, I should probably check Soda’s made it back to his car.”
Shilo nods. He still looks so small; the naivety has begun to leave him, and with it has gone the regal air he’d carried when they first met. It makes Emizel feel… Something akin to pity, but not quite. Getting to his feet, Emizel tries to stamp down the feeling, but it digs claws into his chest and stubbornly hangs there. He breathes out slowly, turning back to face Shilo. The prince is sitting by the window, sprawled on the carpet, eyes on the cityscape below. Emizel’s suddenly struck by the fact that, despite everything, the city is still scarily new to Shilo. The feeling in his chest grows stronger.
“Hey, Shilo?”
Shilo turns to look at him, starry-eyed and hopeful. Emizel feels like he’s been winded, breath sticking in his chest as he’s hit with the feeling of being wanted, of being loved, of being family. “Yes?”
“I’ll try my best to come back in one piece.”
Shilo regards him for a moment, lingering in place before darting over to hug Emizel tightly. “Please do,” he says quietly.
This time, Emizel doesn’t hesitate to return the hug, or to promise that he’ll do his best. He might not know much about family, or being a brother, but now’s a good a time as any to start.