A fresh start (anyone)

Camille sat at a desk, bent over his sketchpad. His hand moved swiftly over the paper, the paints creating an incomprehendible mass of swirling, red, black and blue strokes, tightly spun in the centre of the page, slowly radiating outwards, becoming further apart, distant. It was when he had showered and dressed that the fear had returned. His hand quivered in its movements for a brief moment, and he faltered. No matter how hard he had scrubbed himself, he couldn't feel clean, couldn't feel pure as he had before. He had killed his master. His master had corrupted him. He tried to persuade himself that his response was understandable, and he knew, deep inside, that it was. But he still felt tainted. He stared down at the painting blankly. The darkness, spreading outwards, gowing distant. Yes, that is what it would feel like. Eventually this would pass. Eventually, everything would feel almost normal again. And now that he was here... he gulped... maybe he could learn to trust someone again. Maybe he could start anew.

But this was ugly. He gave a sigh, frustrated at himself, and screwed the paper up, dipping his paintbrush in the water. Something beautiful. A fresh start.

Looking at the ... unsuited painting his-He claimed the boy- Camille made, Hellsing gave a little comment. “They can use a little orange. That color suit the picture as it's not too bright and not too dark. Then again, that color really made a brand new start modestly , like your awful hair. “ He commented.

It was no joke the heterochrome had his eyes interested in the man. Not in a love way or a caring way, but in a term, he could be his slave.He wanted domination over the man, but his ways are too shrouded to know.

He looked at the paper finally be scrapped. He took it using his familiars and opened it back. " I told you, orange color...” He clenches Camille's wrist, forcing the little man to take an orange color. It's his way to show interest. Very odd in normal people's point of view.

He force the man's hand to make a portrait of a person, using the brush. It was a little child, looked very calm and beautiful. Her eyes are dull but, there's something about the woman. She could use a tiny bow.

Hellsing was very good in drawing, other than reading and pissing every people till they explode completely.Then again, he never draw a self portrait. The portrait now looks kinda blurry by the previous color used.



This is my way to repay for your kindness. Master Hellsing Guilliaume, my dear. Thank you for existing...




Ugh! Hat was that ?! He brushed his face away. A memory ? A memory that was sleeping just now has awaken. He remembered a girl, an odd girl. Who is she ? Never mind that! He looked straight at Camille's gaze.He doesn't look like the girl. The girl knows no fear, Camille, he fears everything about him,he guessed. He know Camille can't trust the heterochrome.

The boy jumped, startled at the man's surprise appearance, and scrambled to his feet. "I...um....hello." He blushed a little in embarrassment at the insult, but largely ignored it, guessing that this was probably the blond's way of greeting everyone.

He jumped a little as Hellsing seized his wrist, forcing it to paint, half tempted to snatch it back, but instead allowed the other vampire to guide his hand, sitting back down obediently. He watched the taller vampire warily from under copper curls, chewing his lip nervously. The man's grip was tight around his wrist, and he felt a little anxious at the physical power that Hellsing held over him, fidgeting slightly in his seat.

Camille looked up in surprise to see Hellsing looking... emotional? He felt a little uncomfortable, unsure of how to reassure the man, or even if he would take reassurance well. But the picture... it was...

"It's beautiful." he mumbled.

"Good." He muttered. Having a little smile when there is actually a little boy who listens to him once in a while. The sketch was done now, but Hellsing just got a feeling to scrap it back in.So he did.

"The drawing is not very good. I may have to redo somewhere else."He commented himself. It's not an ideal picture for the heterochrome. He used to paint better ones.A great potrait of those idiotic people who wishes him to by using praises and such.

"The girl could need a bow. She looks nice with them,yes? A white ribbon, bow." The heterochrome didn't notice he was wearing one too. A white ribbon bow, but a very old one.

Camille nodded mutely, staring at the table as the man scrapped it. He had liked the sketch. There had been something quite peaceful about it, and though the taller man's emotional reaction had made him uncomfortable, the picture itself seemed to show a side to Hellsing that he had not expected.

"I...I like it..."

But then Hellsing still scared him.

"...Not that it is my place to judge your work or anything!...Ignore me." he avoided the blond's gaze, chewing his lip.

Hellsing stared at Camille. He liked the sketch, it's ugly for him. " Take the trash if it has became your treasure..." he commented. He didn't want to see the picture anymore. It reminded him of someone. She was blind. He knew she was. To be able to touch a Hellsing Guilliaume without fear or anger, to be able to reach into his heart, able to... be important to someone.

Camille wants to be ignored, so he did. "I won't ask what happened if you're not telling. Take the picture and critic as a gift from me. You did something to me, the day before..."The heterochrome was referring to the day he was taken. Anger felt among all, he loved it. It was all because of a Camille. he was to blame for the incident, so he was grateful. A little compensation of respect.

((gah posted on wrong account by accident DX))

Camille squirmed slightly in his seat. He did not know what he had done wrong, but the blond's words carried a bittersweet sentiment to them that he did not understand. His hand tentatively touched the corner of the paper, before taking it gently, his grip reverent.

"Th-Thank you...and..." his breath caught in his throat. "I'm sorry."

He was not sure what he was apologising for, but somehow, it felt right. Perhaps because Hellsing wanted him to? Or did he need to himself? Was it because this man, who he had never met before reminded him of... Sergei? Did he want to apologise for all that had happened between them? Or was it Hellsing that he wanted to apologise to?
His thoughts were spinning, and he did not notice his nails digging into the scar on his leg subconsciously. A sharp pain brought him back to his senses, as he realised he had reopened the wound. "Oh."

Hellsing glared at the man. Now clenches his chin, quite hard. " Do not apologize all the time like a pathetic sap. That's annoying! Have some pride in yourself or I'll be the one who will teach you to have it!"
He dislikes the fact this man hasn't got any pride at all. It was a good personality of a slave, but he disbelief if that's the only personality this wimpy person had.

Hellsing noticed the wound. The first thing that came up in his mind was to lick it clean,naturally ,but he has such pride of not doing so. "Vampires get over that wound easily, You'll be fine. In a few months." He commented. He was aware the rapier he used was an impure silver or such. He didn't even understand the material. It was a lethal combination to kill both vampires and humans.

Camille squirmed slightly under the harsh grip, but quickly submitted. He forced himself to meet Hellsing's gaze, gulping as he shot out a quick, "Yes, sir."

He was not sure where the "sir" had come from, and he immediately feared the man's reaction. Hellsing was unpredictable... it might please him....or he might be angered. He fidgeted, wiping away the blood impatiently, but continued to meet the taller man's gaze, hoping to show some sign of guts in that, at least.

Hellsing sighed. He wanted to yell at the man but It will make him more scared, annoyingly scared."I'm not a sir neither British. I am A pureblood Lithuanian who lived his entire live in German." He pushed Camille's forehead.

A few moments later, he glanced at the man. " Do I... look like someone from your past? " I could see that in your gaze.He wanted to add, but sooner or later He'll ask why. He shrugged and focused back on the boring scenery.

"You're quite the masochistic type... " He commented.

"Maso-?" He wasn't sure what happened, but something snapped within him, and suddenly his quiet attitude vanished, rage bubbling up. "If I was a masochist, I would never have left that place! I would have stayed there and wasted my life away while he used me! Don't tell me I like pain after how I've had to live for these past decades!"

His mouth snapped shut, suddenly realising how much he had revealed, and he lay his head on the desk in resignation. He closed up his feelings again, hands curling into a ball.

"It's not your fault, I'm sorry. I just... I don't know."

Surprised by the reaction, Hellsing gave another reaction without another second thought. He slapped the little boy using his bare thin hands. " I don't need to know more about you, then. Shut up,payat..."He muttered.

"You wanted your world to change ? Start something new ? " he laughed. "You can't run from that man, and can see it. You'd better off as a slave then!You hated pain now, the ?! Should I shower you with love,now ? Is that what you wanted ?! What's your purpose here anyway ?! Start a new life ?! Desperate ?! " Hellsing shut his mouth.

He never felt this... uneven before. he was supposed to be calm at handling situations. Now, his feelings are mixed between his anger and his new found memories.Yes, it is Camille's fault.

"Go after the future. That's what you want ? I am not going to the future. I'm looking at my past. " he added before he let out a little gasp of air.His head hurts.

No.

His heart hurts.

The slap did not come as a surprise, and Camille barely flinched. He had suffered worse. Yes. Hellsing did remind him of Sergei, the boy thought to himself bitterly. Sergei had been exactly the same towards the end of their time together. Nothing that he could do nor say could ever be right. He got up quietly, ignoring the man's rage.

"What do you want from me? You clearly hate me, yet you were the one who sought me here."

You are just like him, after all.

"Sought you ?!" He tried to kept his temper. He pulled out his Estoc now, he didn't use it to often to people. he used the Rapier to show a warning but an Estoc... means he's willing to kill.This Camille, he is complicated unlike any others he met. Now the little petite thinks that HE it the one that needs Camille ?!

He was blinded in quite and anger. He wielded his Estoc to the boy.Shouting something In Lithuanian.

"Jūs ... Jūs nesuprantate ne visi!Jūs šiek tiek apgailėtina vaikas!Man nereikia asmuo!Man nereikia savo egzistavimą!Aš maniau, kad tu suprasti jausmus norėjo tylią būtybę rankose.Mažylis, kuris nekalba atgal ir parodyti mažiau kenksminga reakcija.Jūs dabar manau, kad man reikia tavęs?!Turiu daugiau nei tai!Aš bandžiau būti atvira!Kvailai aš bandžiau!"

He grabbed Camille's sketchbook, throwing it away, far away.

" Hate you ? I though I don't. I THOUGHT. You were no different from those other people! The one who wanted something from ME! If I owe somebody, I'll return the favor. I thought I may return the favor now to you. You're not different. It's a shame, Camille. You're almost as good as the one who killed me---"


He stood in shock.



Wait.


He was once, tried to be killed.


He was... It's true.

He was...


deceived.


By who ?! A person... with the same personality...


Not Camille but...

Yes. He was once... murdered. He wasn't fully dead, that's why... he was alive. A little fragment went another to his memory. Not a pleasant one, but... an important one.


***

Google translation :

(not always correct... but here's the meaning anyway >.>; )

You... You don't understand at all! You little pathetic child! I don't need a person! I don't need your existence! I thought you understand the feeling of wanted a silent being in your hands. A little one who does not talk back and show less harmful reaction. You now think I need you ?! I have more than that! I tried to be open! Stupidly I tried!


***

OOC : Camille's history... and Hellsing's... I see a different POV here...

Somehow, it's similar.

He stumbled backwards as the man pulled out his sword, tripping over to land in a crumpled heap on the floor. He stared up at the man in confusion.

"You... don't hate me?" He could not understand why anybody would not hate him. He was weak, dull, untalented... he admired other people because he knew he could never possess their qualities and he was dirty. That was the one he felt most of all. How could anybody say that they didn't hate him? He gazed up at the man, perplexed. He was afraid.

He was terrified, but that was not the point right now. Hellsing reminded him so much of Sergei. But Sergei... somehow Camille had understood him more. With Sergei, the quiet voice and the signs of submission would work. With Hellsing... he hated it if he was submissive, and yet, he hated it if Camille defended himself. He simply did not know what to do. But he did not want Hellsing to hate him. He was the one who scared him most, the one who had threatened him most, and yet... he was the one he had felt the most for. Maybe he was a masochist, afterall.

"I don't know why I exploded like that. It is most out of character for me. You just... sounded like somebody for a moment. Please don't hate me now."

He was fully returned to his gentle demeanor now, and deeply regretted what he had said before. He curled into a ball again, resting his head on his knees. Tears would not spill. He almost wished they would. He just felt... empty.

" I thought I didn't. A few moments ago , I thought I didn't. I won't do what others have to say. You're asking me to not hate you, if there's a benefit to not hate you I will not hate you. I thought you might be a doll, to me. I was wrong. I didn't hate you because you didn't disobey me. I hate you because you aid that I wanted something from you. If I do, I won't ask permission. I WILL TAKE what I wanted."He didn't dare to look at Camille.His memories are flowing. From that time, but, flowing straight.

Guilliaume, you always speaks like a child would.

No I'm not! A Child would never ...

Show his Rapier in public for self defense ? Mock people into anger ? That's very childish of you. Have you gone into fights again ?

No I'm not.

I can feel your wound. You're still a child,yes ? You have a characteristics a child would. Devilish, Cruel, Egoist, Pitiless,and tough. Very funny the way you won't admit it.

I'll do what I want!

Of course you would.

The fear running through Camille is what he had expected. He come for that reason, to feed emotions. But then , he didn't take a single one of them. As if food running away and he stood in awe. Fragments, fragments of memories flowing through. He didn't cry. All he did was approved by himself.

" Your eyes are fake. " He commented to Camille.

That was it. His hopes crushed. "You hate me. Of course you would."

He did not mind the fact that Hellsing had been planning to use him. That was all anybody had ever done with him, he did not expect anything more. He had not meant it like that, but,

"You were right. You don't want anything of me. I've got nothing to give."

What could he give him? He, a pathetic little child, who could not even stay strong himself, much less support anyone else? He was weak. Self-absorbed. He had no talent, or anything special about him, really. You are a waste of air. Sergei's words came back to him and he gave a bitter smile. Who would have thought that he would have to face Sergei even here?

"Yes, my eyes are fake." he muttered. "But sometimes it is necessary to be fake to survive."

If he had cried like he wanted to, he would be even weaker in Hellsing's eyes. He would have made himself vulnerable in front of the one person he could not afford to be vulnerable with. And he would not do that.

He turned around."Everyone has something to give. That person wouldn't want you by his or her side if he didn't. Everyone has a worth, that's the reason you exsist. at least, have pride in your exsistence! " He shealthed his Estoc, putting it back at the back of his coat. He wanted a doll to be an ornament, he thought it was possible for Camille to be a decoration in his room, just sitting like a marionette. Yet, no. He didn't need a talking sob marionette. He wanted one who responds at the exact timing. NOT this person.


Hellsing laughed at Camille's statement. " Fake to survive ? You really are just the same as any ordinary person! Both vampires and human all of them! Fake! But it's that facade that keps them alive. Pathetic! "He didn't see Camille's face once more.He looked at the stars shines so brightly today.

"I do what I want. I will not let the world drag me into it's game. I am me. Myself. I didn't do what the world demands, I demand the world to be like my image. Starting from you, Camille... " He stroked his left hand on the man's cheek.

"I'll start teaching you how to be yourself. Then, you will someday pay the conpensation..." He smirked. It's his way of showing an offer of help.

((This thread is starting to break my heart ))

Camille blushed as fingers brushed his cheek, his head fuzzy with confused emotions and thoughts. He admired Hellsing's strength, his heart fluttered as Hellsing reminded him of how Sergei used to be, he was terrified as he did not want to be drawn into the same savage story that had consumed him before... and something within him clamoured to give in. This man had told him that he had something to give. He doubted it, but he was the only person who had ever told him that, except...

"You're a beautiful painter." Sergei's voice had been low in his ear, making a shiver scuttle up his back. Fingers traced the nape of his neck, where scars were still visible, even now. "At least you're not completely worthless."

He shook away the memory, hands tightening into fists by his sides. He met Hellsing's gaze, lower lip trembling.

"Thank you, herr." Camille replied, hesitantly. Hellsing had objected to "sir", so he hoped that this would please him. It seemed that every word had to be chosen carefully around him.

But how could he be himself when he had never been himself to begin with?

((Why ? ))

Hearing the response, it's enough to convince him that Camille is actually ready for a first lesson. Hellsing let out a little smirk. "Now, I let you do anything you wanted ... to me. " He opened his hands. Just standing while looking at Camille.

"I give you a simple choice." He pulled out his rapier, throwing it to Camille's side. " Choose. Stab me in the left eye, or stab me in the right eye. Which color will you stab? " He smirked darkly.

Camille stared at him in shock. Was this... hypothetical? Was it reality? He could never tell with the blond. He couldn't hurt him... no, he wouldn't... Even if he did remind him of Sergei... there was no way that he could bring himself to hurt him. His mind flashed back to the fire, as he had hit Sergei over the head with the candlestick, the stench of burning flesh... the complete absense of screams as he brunt to death without even knowing...

He never wanted to do that to someone again. No matter how much they had hurt him, he could never, ever do it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself. He would rather go through the whole ordeal again than do that.

"N...no... I wouldn't... I won't!"

He knew Hellsing would be angry at him, and he shut his eyes, ready for the blow, trembling, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach.

Having feared by the little boy seems to be quite a personal enjoyment to Hellsing. As Camille shrugged and refuses, all he did was stand up in a proper way while insisting he is hit.

"Lesson one, then. Make YOUR own decision. You mustn't follow me. that's the point, but then again, I'll do everything to make you do what I say. It's like a bet." He explained, a bit laughing too.

"Now, you have made the first step to your own will, the rest surely be easy... " he smiked. "Now bring me some blood pills so I can quench my thirst... " He ordered the man. He was speaking in contradiction. No normal per would understand. Anything the boy does, will have the same severe consequences.

Camille looked at him quizzically. "Blood... pills?"

He had never come across blood pills before. Otherwise he would have fed more often. "I'm sorry...I don't have any pills... I can get you some blood from the kitchen? Or..."

The young man glanced down at the cut on his leg, which was still bleeding from when he had accidentally reopened it. He felt slightly sick with nervousness.

Hellsing glared at the man. " No! Blood pills, not blood. Sweet scented, made by the Cobalt family. Eliael's house critic, preferably this one." He pulled out a pack of blood pills from his pocket. There's a rose crest mark, a blue one with the name on it.

"This one will do. But as you can see, it's empty..."He sat down looking a bit lowering at the man.He wanted to kick the man's leg since it's unable to stand properly, but then it will make him more angry at him.He has no interest in Camille's blood, he tasted him before. Adequate but, still, it's a blood scented one. He prefers the man to be crushed as a blood pills instead, which probably will not happen.