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| {{WIP}}
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| {{Universe|Xanadu}}
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| {{title
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| |name=Revan Saga Part 10
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| |author=Joysweeper
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| |user=Joysweeper}}
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| ...''huh?'' I found myself sitting on the edge of the narrow bed. It felt like I had dozed off for a few hours - maybe more than that, since there was an ache in my muscles. ''Man, why would I take a nap on a day like today? I should... I should probably see about getting back to the dorm, if nothing else... or maybe I should try and find my friends...''
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| I stood up quickly and winced as, for a moment, the room faded almost entirely into blackness. Head spinning, I waited for it to pass, counting to five before I could see again. ''Low blood pressure. Got up too fast.'' I recalled some stuff I'd memorized for an anatomy class back in high school. To a point, it was a good sign - for me, at least, it meant that my arteries were clear and my heart was strong enough that the resting rate was easy to maintain. This had happened before, and often - athletes usually have low blood pressure, and although I wasn't an athlete I prided myself on being at least somewhat active. Particularly last year, when I'd been obsessively trying to get my mile time down.
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| I remembered that. Treadmills or laps and weight machines three times a week at the gym, forty-five minute workouts. The way, when I was running, my spit thickened into slime, the way a dry patch appeared in the back of my throat, the way my skin flushed and my feet hurt and I could never get enough air when I was running. The way I ''felt'' when running - a combination of physical misery and thoughtless euphoria, because I was ''alive'' in a way that I only was when running, a way I barely brushed up against when writing or on the wheel. The way, when I ran, I noticed nothing, felt nothing, thought nothing until I slowed down, and then the world hit me, bright and quick. The rest of the time, I had only felt a difference when I stood up quickly and had to wait out a moment of blindness.
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| But I didn't remember it ever taking more than about three seconds before clearing. This meant that either I'd recently lost blood or heart function or else Xanadu had made me into some kind of monster athlete. I knew which was preferable.
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| Experimentally, I made a fist with hands that were bigger than I was used to. There was hair on my knuckles, hair a bit too long and thick for my liking on my arms and the backs of my hands, I saw, to my slight displeasure. I bent my arm, bringing my fist up near my shoulder and feeling the oddly satisfying tightness of muscle against muscle.
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| Then I made a few exploratory jabs into the air, trying to tell if it was any easier or faster. But I hadn't exactly made a habit of doing that before, so I couldn't tell. My arms did feel lighter, even though I could clearly see that they weren't. For a moment I considered trying to punch the wall, just to see what would happen. Common sense prevailed, luckily.
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| ''So... it was costumes that changed people, right? '' I'd picked up on that much, at least.'' And I was wearing... I was wearing... '' Damn.
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| I couldn't remember. This was more than a little bit disturbing. It hadn't been something that I'd just thrown together or bought for a post-Halloween discount. It had been ''important'' to me.
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| It had been... it had been... It had been yet another aspect of something that had totally taken over my life. For a few months, I had been practically monomaniacal about exercise, and I had been similarly crazy about many other things before and after. But there had been one thing. One thing that had stayed strong and interesting for years and years.
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| But I couldn't quite remember what it was. Probably... no, not a TV show. A video game? A game for the Xbox, I recalled, a role-playing game. I had played it again and again, and I had gone on the Internet and found others who had felt the same, and I had written stories, dozens of stories...
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| And yet, I couldn't remember what it was. I could remember thinking about some detail I had gone into and laughing about it, fully aware that I was going overboard. I remembered the satisfaction of a good job and thoughtful comments, remembered off-topic discussions on forums, I remembered liking the stories some members wrote... but not ''what''. It was disturbing. Jarring. Like an important part of myself had seceded.
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| I stole a glance at my laptop, closed next to the clock atop the little nightstand. Maybe...?
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| There were a pair of little gold hoop earrings next to it. With a little shock, I remembered that I'd taken them off before putting on my costume. I'd left my glasses and my class ring on, and of course they were now missing, but these, ''these'' were still here. I was pretty sure that they had been a present from when I had my ears pierced as a kid, and I'd had a habit of only taking them off when I thought they would get snagged on something.
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| Ever since I'd finished puberty the hoops had never been the right size to slide over my fingers like real rings, but I used to be able to put my fingertips through them. Now, the earrings sat over my blunt, rough fingertips like tiaras over bald royalty.
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| ''Can I even wear these now?''
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| I pinched the soft, fleshy earlobe of one ear, then the other. The left ear was undifferentiated, completely intact. The right ear had a hard spot. When I pinched it gently and moved my fingers it was like holding a tiny rod.
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| I flicked one earring open and began the delicate operation of finding the opening and inserting it. It seemed to get stuck, so I stretched the lobe down and wriggled, pressing insistently. A mirror might have helped, but I didn't feel up to looking into one right now. It hurt, a hot little spark, but I felt it as it punched through, pushing a little earwax with it. Closing the clasp, I smiled in triumph, then sank back down onto the bed, yawning as a wave of lethargy engulfed me. There was barely time to wonder why I was suddenly sleepy before I was out.
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| ----
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| As soon as my eyes fluttered closed, I opened them again and was on my feet, probing my ear and the foreign object impaling it with my fingers. It didn't hurt now, but I could feel its weight. ''What in the hells?''
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| I paced restlessly, pulling and prodding, until I remembered the mirrored glass in the refresher. From there I could see the metal hoop transfixing my earlobe, which had gone bright red from all this handling.
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| Remembering the motions my fingers had gone through to get it in, I fumbled through a reversal of the process, eventually pulling the thing off.
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| Now I could see the tiny dot in the lobe. Force-given insight showed me what it was, not contradicting my observations. It was the remnant of a puncture that had not healed completely, leaving a tunnel of scar tissue that reached all the way through to the other side. It had constricted somewhat, filling in slightly, but the reinsertion of the jewelry had opened that up again.
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| I hadn't really expected anything else. There hadn't been the kind of effort and pain that would have come from puncturing a solid earlobe. If it had been, I could have focused my will on the injury and closed it. But there was pretty much nothing I could do about old scar tissue. Shrink it a little, maybe, but ''the other'' would just repeat the process and I would waste the effort.
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| Fractured personas did ''not'' come with old scar tissue! I didn't know what to make of this. One thing was for sure - I was ''not'' going to reveal myself to whoever or whatever ''the other'' was until I had some grasp of the situation. An accommodating hominid had patiently explained to me something about where I was, as well as what a "furry" was and one or two other useful things, but I needed more information to proceed.
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| ''And now I have been mutilated.'' Not only was ritually pierced flesh a barbaric, uncivilized custom - and no matter how small the hole, ''someone'' was bound to see it - but it meant one more feature that might cause me to stand out. I needed as much anonymity as I could ''get'', damn it!
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| ''I'm getting a little too wild here.'' The ambient Force energy was starting to churn. Performing a calming breath exercise, I watched my reflection shed the slight signs of anger and frustration. The Force was slower to settle, but soon enough it too reflected a stable emotional state. It was important, I knew, to maintain at least a facade of composure and competence. People are easier to handle if they see me in that way - they can see that while I can't do everything, I know how much I can do, and when to stop.
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| It was also important because I knew where passion led. The Dark Side had claimed me at least twice before, and I knew my own nature as well as anyone could. ''Bogan'' and ''Ashla'', Dark and Light, hero and villain. As of now, I was redeemed of the Dark and once again walking in the Light. I might fall yet again, I might not, but redemption was more than the flick of a switch. Safer to suppress emotion; backsliding was ''not'' an option.
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| Even though sometimes I missed the instant respect I'd had as a Dark Lord. The way, even when I disguised myself, everyone watched me, the way they listened when I spoke and told me outright what was needed. I'd liked that. More and more these days, I found myself missing it. They had ''never'' wasted words when I was Dark Lord, and everyone had done as I wished, watching me eagerly in the Force.
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| I'd liked that. Hatred could be disquieting, but with the proper amount of dependence and fear it could be overcome. The fear, after all, was just one aspect of respect and adoration, which I had also had. Devotion, even. It was true that there was very little loyalty among the Sith and my subordinates had always been trying to murder me and usurp my position, but that had at least made life more exciting. Of course, both times there had been a nominal underling but actual coruler who had been outstandingly trusted and faithful right up until the betrayal...
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| ''And here I am, wasting time that could be spent in so many more productive ways.'' All around was a dizzying panorama of the life around me and the possible ways I could affect it, a vast and abstract ever-changing tapestry of light and shadow and darkness. There was much to be done, differences to make. Not doing all I could was the same as approving of what I could have stopped. I owed the galaxy that much.
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| "Hold on. I'm not sure how much I understand here. You say that you are a, ah-" The term had slipped my memory.
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| "A vampire, yes." The way he pronounced the word was odd - the ''vam'' was said very quickly, with emphasis on the ''pi'' of the next syllable. It probably had something to do with his sharp, pronounced canine teeth. I found it interesting how, despite them, his red lower lip was completely intact instead of torn and bleeding.
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| "Thank you. And you need blood?"
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| "''Warm'' blood, yes. Arrangements were made, for my kind - the Red Cross, it has been most accommodating." Clearly the man was dancing around the subject, hoping that I would get it before he had to spell it out. That was too bad. The Force relayed ''hunger need hunger restraint hunger need hunger shame hunger need hunger'' - he wanted something and he wished he didn't, but I wasn't sure what.
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| I settled for asking him to explain to me just what this "red cross" was.
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| "You haven't heard of it?" The man blinked, then shrugged, dismissing my ignorance. "A medical organization. Many of my kind has been able to subside on the blood they have donated - vampires don't care if it's not good enough for transfusion, you see."
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| "Explain to me exactly what a 'vampire' is," I said levelly.
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| "You don't know? We are common in the media, ''everyone'' knows." He was clearly taken aback, just as the equine humanoid earlier today had been surprised to hear of my ignorance about what a "furry" was. Frankly I found it a bit irritating - they had both seen my robes and immediately known me to be Jedi. I hate being ignorant - knowledge is power, when all the speeches are over.
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| Just like the equine, he was shortly over his surprise. "A vampire is a creature of the night, yes? Stronger than mortal men. We are many of us different." The man's oddly-accented voice took on a sort of sing-song quality. "Some cannot bear the touch of the sun. To most of us, holy symbols and garlic and running water are, mildly put, ''unpleasant''. We do not appear in mirrors, and wood is the most dangerous of weapons. Sometimes silver. You are ''certain'' that this is unfamiliar?"
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| In answer I arched one eyebrow higher than the other, and he sighed and went on. "Some are like in a coma during the day - which was ''very'' alarming when it first happened, yes."
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| "It's day now," I said mildly, interrupting during one of his pauses.
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| "Late afternoon, early evening," he corrected. "I am not so badly off as some of them. I am confined to formalwear, which for whatever reason always includes a cravat, yes, but the later hours of the day do not trouble me, if I stay inside." The... vampire continued his explanation.
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| "Some - not I, but some - can become bats, or wolves, or mist. Many are un-dead, many cannot enter a home uninvited, there are many other small things which some have and others lack. All must feed on the living - blood, or life-energy, the like. It is complicated. Everyone's vampires are different," he finished somewhat hesitantly.
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| "And you need warm blood," I prodded. Having heard something about that from the equid, I would have liked to ask him about the "bats" and the "wolves", but I could sense in the Force that he was ''finally'' getting to the point. "You, personally."
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| "Not a great deal, no," he said, wincing a little. "There are some who require vast quantities, yes, and often too. But I am not among them! Yet the provided blood, it does nothing for me! Even heated, it is too ''cold'', too ''sterile''!"
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| "And so you have taken to lurking about, asking strangers?" It did not look like the wisest of plans, to make an understatement. This was a good portion of what I had been doing, all day - pointing out, sometimes subtly, sometimes physically, that someone was failing to think things through. Small gestures often had large consequences, as my teachers had said.
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| "Ah, w-well, you see, the thing is, um, my, my mythos-" I was interested to note that although the vampire was showing all the other signs of an embarrassed human, even dropping part of the accent, he was not blushing. His face was just as corpse-pale as when I had first seen him beckoning me into this room, off from one of the main passageways. "Um, there are some vampires who spread their, their condition to anyone they bi- to whoever they feed on, yes?"
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| I blinked. "Oh, like rakghouls?" Hairless, blind, colorless flesh-hungry monsters that roamed Taris's lowest levels in shambling packs, all the more grotesque because they had once been human. By far the worst part was watching an infected human in the last stages, after their hair and ears and teeth fell away but before the hunger overcame what was left of their minds, scrabbling in the dirt, weeping out of foggy eyes that were starting to seal, mewling in pain as new needle-sharp infected teeth burst through their gums.
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| Shuddering, I shook off the memory in time to hear the vampire saying, "What?"
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| "It's not relevant. You're saying that you are infectious?" Maintaining my heroic alignment only goes so far.
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| "No! No, not like that!" He actually waved his hands as he dissembled, and I noted a patch of hair on each of his palms. "Not ''me'', it is some other vampires!" Again I raised my eyebrows, and watched as he coughed self-consciously and settled himself. Amazing, the way different people interpreted changes in my facial expression. Admittedly, I adjusted myself unconsciously to each person, but still...
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| "No, I am, I am 'old school'. It has to go both ways - ''you'' would need to consume ''my'' blood, as well. And then, it might be me who killed you, or it might be something else, you would have to die before there was much of a change, yes."
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| "Open your mind to mine," I commanded in a soft voice, looking squarely into his eyes.
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| He tried to meet my gaze challengingly, then faltered a little, blinking before I did. "W-what do you mean?"
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| "Just do it. It's easy, just relax. Calm down, I won't hurt you. I just want to know that you won't hurt me." My word choice implied that I could pore through the intimacies of his mind. I couldn't, of course, but if he so allowed I could tell if he planned some subtle deception.
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| Even closed, I could sense the conflict in his mind, hovering between hunger and the desire for privacy. Hunger won out, and he agreed.
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| "Now. Would I suffer any unpleasant consequences for letting you take a portion of my blood? Think about it before replying."
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| He did so. "I don't believe that you would. There would be no noteworthy injury to veins and arteries, or muscles, or windpipe; there never is. The bite would not even get infected - my teeth, they are very clean. There might, perhaps, be a scar, and enough would be taken that you might be momentarily weakened. But there would not be any other ill effects, I truly believe."
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| "You're telling the truth," I observed. Some part of him, the source of the hunger, wanted to come to the fore and just ''take'', stalking this place and taking victims and using them up, then either leaving them to die or converting them. But he was firmly in control of that desire. The longer he went hungry, the stronger it would become.
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| "I hope you realize that this isn't a permanent solution," I warned. He started nodding even before I had finished the sentence.
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| "This is known to me, Jedi. Yes. But, before the hunger becomes too much, I must feed. I truly, truly do not know what to do when I hunger again." ''Still being sincere. Good.''
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| For a few moments I considered, a part of me wishing that he would just solve his own damn problem.
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| ''I do believe that this is the strangest thing that I've done today'', I mused
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| {{series bar
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| |series=Revan in Xanadu
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| |previous=[[Revan in Xanadu (Part 9)]]
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| |next=[[Revan in Xanadu (Part 11)]]}}
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| [[Category:Story]] [[Category:Joysweeper]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Alien]]
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