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Iris

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Godric gasped in unneeded amounts of air as he broke through the surface of the Earth, damp and smelling of moss. He drew his hands, likely caked with mud and clay, over his lips as he spat. His memories swam, flashes of bright colour danced behind his eyes as he struggled to remember what had happened.

 

There had been men. Angry men with chains. They had taken him. Bound him. They had made Eric watch. He could still hear his child’s screams in his head. They had silver, molten, liquid silver, they had poured it over him, seared his flesh with it until the pain whited out his grasp on reality.

 

But he kept staring at them. Silent and defiant. He watched them as they tried to tear him to pieces.

 

So the silver had been turned to his eyes.

 

They pitted his eyes like cherries, plucked them, plump and ripe from his head and threatened to fill the sockets with more of their silver fire.

 

The world had phased from him then and now here he sat.

 

“Godric?”

 

The Roman tilted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement, and shifted his attention to the solid presence of Eric behind him. “I am here.”

 

He heard Eric walk, his footfalls heavy and thick in the wetness of the mud and grass. He felt Eric round him, heard the fold of muscle and bone as Eric crouched to his level. Broad hands settled on his cheeks, thumbs drawing under his eyes, where useless, fresh eyes sat. Godric’s eyelids fluttered shut as he felt Eric press light kisses to the flesh about his ruined eyes.

 

Godric’s hands pressed to Eric’s shirt, clinging into the soft, thick material, no doubt leaving dark smudges of mud in his wake. He felt helpless, for a moment, something he hadn’t felt since he was human all those centuries ago. It was a strange, foreign feeling that was there and gone in an instant, leaving Godric to wonder what it was.

 

He felt his head be guided, his mouth easily found it’s place against Eric’s neck, he sucked at the cool flesh, making quiet noises in the back of his throat. His fangs slipped through the layers of Eric’s flesh into his veins and Godric clung against him, drinking deep.

 

He saw the world once more in Eric’s blood.