Work Text:
X sits alone on the beach. It’s so late at night that it’s practically early morning. He's watching the moon, full and silver, as it hangs low over the western skies over the Pacific.
X lays alone, chained in a box, deep under the sand and ocean muck. The cold, endless ocean presses down above him. It's impossible to tell if it's night or day. In his dreams, the moon is a waxing crescent sliver in the empty skies.
X's shoes are off. He pushes into the sand with his toes. In the distance, there's the yelp and snarl of feral dogs fighting over some dead thing the tide has washed in. X keeps one eye on them, but he's not worried. He has bigger things to worry about.
Under the water, X has no concerns. He doesn't know how long he's been there, nor how much longer he'll have to remain. Perhaps he's always been there, under the Pacific, just offshore of Santa Monica. Perhaps the pieces he remembers of his existence in Los Angeles are just dreams. The salt water is starting to make his clothes decay.
X makes a mental note to call Jasper tomorrow night. It’s always good to check in on him and make sure he’s still alive.
X is waiting for Jasper to return. He… will return… right? When he figures out how to help him? That's what he promised X.
Sometimes X dreams about being underwater and looking up at the moon from below the waves. It’s happened often enough now that it never surprises him anymore more. Like, oh, it's Monday, time to dream about the moon and the sea. He's heard others argue that it's impossible for vampires to dream, but clearly, X didn't get that memo when he was embraced. He dreams all the time. Maybe it's a Malkavian thing. He doesn't know enough others from his clan to do a survey.
X’s dreams have come true. He's below the moon, under the waves. Now he dreams of the sky, vast and empry and free. It feels so far away.
X knows he’ll have to get moving soon. The sun is going to come up, as it always does, and he really doesn’t want to be caught outside when dawn breaks. He doesn’t have a set haven, not at the moment. He’s going to have to ask around a bit to find a couch to crash on. Or a closet to hide in, maybe. Or under someone’s bed. He’s not picky. He can’t afford to be picky.
X is sheltered from the sunlight by the sand and the deep water and the secure lid of the man-sized box. This is good, because he couldn't move even if he wanted to. He is weighed down and imprisoned by cuffs and chains. They're not there for his safety, but to protect others. If he is somehow awoken, they’ll stop him from killing anyone. A boat passes by up above, the sound of its motor faint, then loud, then faint again. What would the people think if they knew about the monster sleeping in the sand right below them?