Emiel Regis x Reader

Twelve

You knew little about the laws and sacred customs of vampires. You'd never met one. At least not one whose name had stuck in your head. Sometimes you thought you had a feeling, like a blurred memory.

Then you remembered a face, blurred fangs and weird eyes. Purple eyes.

The feeling of lightning coming down from the sky shattered your mind. Then the memories were gone.
Shocked, you woke up from the short sleep you had fallen into, slapped your hands on the table and lifted your head jerkingly.

"Goddamn it!", you cursed and rubbed your aching neck with a hand.

"A nightmare?", the gentle voice of Regis was like the kiss of the wind during a hot night in the summer.

He had let you sleep and had returned to his book in which he painted pictures and symbols. Sometimes he also wrote short texts into it. Maybe it was a diary. He had a beautiful handwriting and his ability to draw was not bad either.

However, you could see that he was not an artist. The pictures he conjured on the paper were too shaky and chaotic. Somehow it calmed you that he had a normal hobby besides hanging out with a wither. As nice as Geralt was, his job was to kill beings like you. And the sheer thought made you nervous.

With tired eyes, you turned to him, nodded and tried to stifle the sigh in your chest.

Why did everything have to be so exhausting?

The tiredness that had spread in your body felt so forced, so unnatural. It would have been so much easier to go back home and fall asleep again.

Were you asleep at all?

Or was your mind just confused?

Regis had already asked this question several times. Not once have you been able to answer it. There was no memory from before the time of your awakening.

There was only blackness and pain that plagued your head when you tried to remember. So, you avoided remembering anything at all.

But at the same time it made you feel bad because Regis' life depended on results. And if you hindered his research, you would have been responsible for his death. That was a thing, you wanted to avoid at all cost.

He didn't deserve to die. He was a good vampire. Even if he called himself a monster.

"Is everything alright?", carefully, Regis stepped closer and smiled. "It's fine, you can rest a little. I won't bother you with more experiments today. It seems that my curiosity has pushed your limits. Please, I don't want to be the cause of your misery."

Immediately, you grabbed his hand, not tight but persistent. You didn't even thought about what you did.

"Please, don't talk like this. You've showed me the most kindness today, Regis. I am very thankful for that. Helping you with your research is the least I can do.", you squeezed his hand.

It was warm. And big. Bigger than yours but a lot softer. He had taken off his fingerless gloves, that had covered the back of his hands and the inner side. Now, you were able to fully see the pale skin. And the art, that was painted on it, to last forever.

Distracted, you let your fingers run over the fine lines of blue ink, that decorated Regis' spotless skin.

There were two circles, one on each hand. Herbs and flowers danced inside of them, accompanied by runes that seemed familiar. They formed words, words of the vampire language, to form a poem.

You didn't know anything about vampire poetry or their sense of art. But what was written on his skin, sounded beautiful to your ears.

"And if my immortal life will surrender in the pointless battle against time, my heart shall beat again, my thirst for blood shall dry and life will hit me again, with all its sins, its hate and its cruelty. I shall suffer through all the pain. I shall hunger through every crisis. I shall know how it feels like to be thirsty for water when death will embrace me. And if I lived through all of this pain and misery again, I shall remember the true worth of being alive.", you translated.

It was a bitter sweet poem, so cynical yet painful in its truth.

The sound of it enchanted you, caught your mind like a spider caught a butterfly in its web.

"Do you like my tattoos?", Regis asked, smiling amused. "I've got them a long, long time ago. I'd call them a sin of my youth."

He laughed, slightly embraced by the memories of his former self. There was not a lot that he remembered about the past. Mostly because he had been drunk a fair amount of the time. However, he did remember quite clearly how he got those tattoos.

"I shall know again what it means to be alive...", hesitantly, you looked at him. "You've been human before? I wouldn't have expected that."

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you. I am a born higher vampire. But my former younger self thought of it more as a curse than a gift. Or rather a choice that nature made.", he sat down on the chair next to you, not removing his hand from your gentle grip. "I once thought that it would be nice to be a human. Drinking blood wasn't really my thing until... well until I started doing it... and lost control. It was not a time that I am proud of."

Surprised, you raised an eyebrow. Tilting your head, you looked at him, (H/C) strands of your hair fell into your face.

"You were an alcoholic, Regis?", you asked.

Immediately, his cheeks turned red. His hand moved up to the back of his head, where he rubbed his neck a few times, before answering.

"Sort of. But like I said, it's nothing I am proud of. I've quit drinking blood ages ago but the memory of my past lifestyle is still wildly embarrassing. But what am I saying? I don't want to bore you with my past.", he wanted to get up.

But you held him back.

"No, no. Please, tell me a story. Tell me about you. I want to know how it is... being a real vampire."