Dedicated to everyone and the world. Especially to alisette, because roleplaying with her shaped Cherosh the most.
Also dedicated to, in no particular order: Nymphicus (aka Temera-Fjera), BondageFox, LoeeShian, MelodySoul, shinychufish, VelvetSilk-Alchemist, crystalcriss, NekoDee, Kaida-Shade, TheSinisterLove, XxZombieChickensxX, AngelicaUmbrarum, blakserenity, BaconRainbow, PeorthMoon, Oracion98, and all of my watchers and roleplay partners. You are the reason I write.

OC one-shot
Characters: Cherosh (who remembers his many lives with all those who ever met him), and that tiny voice
Contents: be prepared for tons of memories

-*-*-*-

He had been here before. Cherosh knew that he had seen this place before, whenever he had made a decision. This time, however, something else had dragged him here. He was immobilized, thorny vines digging into his skin and spilling all over his body in black ink. Bound to this place, it was? How lovely.

While the shades of grey shifted around him, silence embracing him, Cherosh waited. The old game of how long he would endure it this time, it was? He couldn't help but to laugh. Really? He wasn't afraid of what could lurk in this constantly twisting and changing world. It wasn't even real, just a reflection of a broken mirror. But full of traces he had left on this world. He had shaped it. This was the place of his fears, sorrows and the little moments his anger had become overwhelming.

"Enjoying yourself?"

A cold, thin voice, dripping with amusement about his rather helpless situation, whispered close to his ear. He didn't move, not flinch away. Any movement would have sent the thorns deeper into his body. They were as unreal as this world around him, but that didn't keep them from hurting him with every tiniest twitch.

"And stubborn as ever. Has to be the reason why you are here in the first place. What do you even want?"

"Nothing. Maybe destroying this place would help."

A quite bemused chuckling, high-pitched and hurting his ears, came from the bodyless voice. He knew he was sounding a little pathetic, but he couldn't have cared less about that. He had been through much, had lived through the most impossible situations. But he was here, and he was alive. That was what counted in the end.

"You know you never can escape this place for long." the voice stated, still chuckling.

"I know. It's a part of me."

"And it's a perfect example of how much of an idiot you are. You could live happily ever after, but instead, you decided to remember. Why?"

Why indeed? Cherosh had thought about this question several times. He could have decided against it. He could have forgotten about so many things in his life, and lead a much lighter one. Instead, he carried all those little memories with him. And not one time, he had regretted this decision.

"Because I want to. I want to remember all of it, even if some of the memories make me cringe or make me want to hit myself. I have done many wrong things, but just as many right things."

"Oh, please."

Now, the voice sounded definitely annoyed, as well as a little doubtful. Cherosh couldn't help but to smirk to himself, shifting just a little in his bonds. The moment he would be away from here, he would be all too happy. But he had to go through this first, or it would bother him for a much longer time than he would have liked to.

Steps were heard, and finally, a figure appeared before him. It had no face, not anything making it appear like a person. Just like a black blotch which happened to look like a human. Not that Cherosh ever had bothered to look any closer. He knew the voice, and could only think of it as a bodyless thing.

"You have every reason to want to forget. Don't you remember what you did that you became a vampire?"

"Depends on where you want to start." Cherosh gave back all calm, grinning as he noticed the anger in the voice.

"Don't even try to be a smartass. You are a walking catastrophy. It would only help you to forget, and make the others forget about you too."

"Getting angry at me? I'm not afraid of you or the pain, just to remind you."

The voice huffed, and the shadow took on more of a human form. But still, it stayed an undefined blotch, nothing Cherosh could take seriously. If that was supposed to be scary, then the voice was definitely doing something wrong. Maybe it was just him not wanting to be afraid of this tiny, squeaking voice. It was better like that anyway. He had been afraid of it for a long time, and he had no intention to go back to that.

An extension of the shadow, supposed to be a hand, reached out and grabbed Cherosh's throat. He didn't feel much pressure, as if it was fog reaching out for him. Cherosh stayed almost unnerving calm, eyes fixated on the shadow. He wouldn't show any fear. Not now, and never again.

"You were such a naive boy. Trusting that half vampire."

Cherosh remembered...

She had been a charming lady, approaching him without the usual fear. Gods, he had been feared, even by werewolves. Not without reason. He had been mentally instable, and all too easily had snapped at anyone not showing the necessary respect. At least in his opinion. But she, she had been all fearless. She even had come to his room, smiling and moving oh so gracefully.

The metamorphosis, it had been triggered by a mistake. She had fed of him, but never with the intention to turn him. He had cut his arm open with a knife, just above one of the countless scars on his body. The pain? An uninteresting burning. She had licked off some of the blood, and then had left. He had stayed back, and only as it already had been too late, he had realized he was changing.

"An accident, nothing else."

"An acci-?! Oh come on!" The voice hissed, the hand suddenly becoming more solid and choking Cherosh lightly. "You should be angry at her! You should have wished to kill her before she was torn apart by her murderers!"

"Why should I wish for something like that? She never harmed me out of intention."

The shadow flickered and weakened again, retreating a little. It paced around him, as so often before. Should he feel even remotely threatened? Cherosh didn't think so. He had gone through this exact same procedure often before, much too often. It bored him out of his mind.

The vines tightened, digging deeper into his body. A faint shudder wrecked his body, especially as he felt the cold touch of the shadow in his back. It trailed up along his spine, sometimes pushing into his body without leaving a wound. It was trying to get him to shiver out of fear, but that was not happening. Never again, he would feel any fear here.

"Fine." the voice huffed, having become a little firmer. "Remember how you ran into this fox and his vampire. Didn't that make you angry, how they treated you?"

Now, Cherosh had to laugh. "Please, are you seriously trying to convince me to hate them? You must be insane."

"Why, don't you have any reason to be angry at them?"

"No. They have a reason to be angry at me, but not the other way around."

"Oh, such a good boy you are." The voice sounded like it was trying to dissolve something with the acid in its tone. "Not wanting to touch those two. Tell me, what's so special about them? What do you remember about them?"

Cherosh remembered...

They never seemed to be apart. Two dancers, in so many respects. Not only did they work as dancers, but they also were moving so gracefully in the dark. Under the threads of moonlight, their true nature unfolded. Tempting and dangerous, yet so sweet and caring at the same time.

His last meeting with them had been such a long time ago. Taunting and being taunted never had gotten old or boring with them. Nor had it taken the harmful way. No, it was easy, light-hearted, a distraction from the truly dark moments of life. Both kept a secret, a dangerous side, used it for their purposes. He had wondered, was he the same? No, he was different, just as they were different from each other.

It was a time in his life where he had no longer known what he was. He had been unsure what he truly desired. What he wanted to be. The strain of the many sides hadn't kept up for long. Such a shame, though, that it had happened so suddenly that all those sides had dissolved. But what had stayed behind had been his core. The very essence of what he was.

So, yes. He was grateful.

"Well?!" the voice snapped, impatient with his long dwelling in this memory. "Any reason to despise them?"

"No." Cherosh smiled, only shuddering as the thorns yanked deeper into his body. Was the shadow attempting to tear him apart? "There isn't, and never will be, a reason for me to hate them in any respect."

The grey shades around him flickered, and while the voice was screeching and cursing, he was watching how the world around him shifted and twisted. There were shapes in the grey patches around him. Animals, plants, humans, and other objects he couldn't identify. For a short time, he tasted blood, and he could have sworn he felt a metallic ball on his tongue.

A smile curled his lips. Yet another memory he never would forget. He didn't cling to them, he just held on to them. He didn't want to let them go. Those memories, they kept him upright. His soul was, and maybe always would be, a child barely able to walk. Those memories were the hands helping it to stand upright, giving it affection. Even if some of those hands held sad memories.

A trail of blood trickled down along his chin, the strain of the vines on him peaking for a moment, before they became slack again. Well, relatively slack. He watched the furiously flickering shadow, feeling calm and balanced. That never would change.

"Well, do tell me, oh so great nephilim." the voice snarles, the figure becoming more solid again. "What are you thinking about the one having taken your innocence? The one having stolen your love?!"

Cherosh remembered...

It couldn't be called 'stealing'. Hell, their whole meeting was a big coincidence. He had been aggravated, restlessly pacing through the streets. He had literally ran into this man. They had immediately been fascinated by each other, had traveled together. Even if the other had always meant danger for him.

But they had managed. Found a balance where it wouldn't tilt. The change to half vampire had made it a little more complicated, but it never had kept them from being together. He had given this vampire something to hold on to, after centuries of loneliness. In return, he had been given a reason to cease in his restless journey, to finally come to a rest.

They had gone through so many changes together. But they never had stopped loving each other. At some point, though, their worlds had drifted apart. Sadness always clung to him whenever he thought of the unreadable warrior. But it wasn't one choking him. It was a light sadness, a sweet pain.

Cherosh merely shook his head with a small sigh, and a pretty big smirk on his face. "No chance. I never would hate him. In fact, I love him for doing that to me. He stopped me from breaking apart completely."

Something feeling like claws slashed across his body. Ah, they were at that point already. He went through the individual pains of his life again. But whoever triggered them, if intentionally or not, he couldn't hate any of those memories. He had survived many things. Had been shaped by them, grown a shell, lost part of it again. The scars having stayed behind were part of who he was.

"Good, seems like I need something else to make you hate your memories."

Cherosh didn't pay much attention to the voice. The pain had dulled down, and he was looking down on himself with a pretty blank expression. Oh, blood. How very threatening. He couldn't even tell how often he had been bleeding in his life. Mentally, physically, it didn't matter. He had many wounds, but he had survived. Maybe had gone crazy for a long time, but that had been cured again.

While the shadow was occupied with cursing and screeching, he felt a soft hand along his body. No, not only one, but several of them. He knew every single of them. They touched him with gentle carresses, trailing along the ridges and dips of his body. No matter how much had happened in his life, how mangled he was by some of the experiences, he was still loved. Loved the way he was, loved the way he approached life.

"But you were hunted, too."

Okay, now the voice was starting to get on his nerves. He glanced up, though, glaring at the shadow. It had taken on a quite solid form, though there still were so many details missing. The hands hadn't left him, resting against his skin like butterfly kisses. His grey eyes fixated the shadow again, until it began trembling. Rather out of anger than out of fear, though.

"You were hunted, damn it. You should hate the hunter for doing that!" Should he indeed now? Oh well...

Cherosh remembered...

That time had been his total jerk time, really. Besides, he had been just as crazy as ever. Risking to challenge one of the best hunters, what had he even been thinking? But he had been shown that he better shouldn't have challenged this special one. He might have been a halfbreed, but that hadn't been enough to be better than a human.

Not just any human, though. A rough lover, one biting as strongly as him. He never had been able to decide wether he should like that or not. In the end, he had not only liked, but loved that. Even if they had their discussions, there always was a way to come to an agreement.

Cherosh merely shrugged, ignoring the increasing anger of the shadow. So, well, he had been fucked up really good by this one special hunter. But he had fucked the other up just as well. Eye for an eye, it was. Now, the shadow was at the point he smashed a solid wall of memories against Cherosh, and in the surge, he lived through several in succession.

He remembered so much...

He remembered a god. A counterpart to him. They always had matched in their unique way, loved and lived even as they had been the exact opposite of each other. What had it mattered anyway? It had been an interesting experience in every way. Brushing touches, passionate encounters, slow approaches. Everything had been explored. None of it ever had grown boring.

A protector to this god, a lover and a rival at the same time. Tension and attraction, such a delicious mix. And the rivalry, Gods. All the fights they had gone through. But they always had ended with something pleasurable. So many incarnations, none of them quite like the other. And still similar in some respects.

He remembered a little angel. Gods, how had he frightened the poor boy. But there had been trust too. They had found a way to approach each other without fear, without anything between them. Even if it had been close to abuse sometimes, it never had gone to a point without return.

He had been dragged out of one of those little moments of darkness by this very male. Had been taught to laugh and smile after a deep shadow having been casted over his life. And for that, he couldn't be more grateful.

He remembered a quite carnal friend. Dragged him back after one of his many deaths. It had been crazy, really. But at the same time thrilling and exciting. They had met in not only this one way, but several. Ah, but how he had enjoyed it, and he would never want to hate him. Especially not as he was ripped away from an abusive 'lover' through that in the first place.

Sure, it had been dangerous. Not to mention addictive. A dance on the volcanoe, ready to run when it would start to erupt. Though, even if it had erupted, he hadn't run. He hadn't been hit by the heat, lucky him. Just by the heat of something he had enjoyed beyond reason.

He remembered a gentle lover. Ah, how he had teased the other. That hadn't been exactly nice of him, had it? But there wasn't a reason to be ashamed about it, not now, not ever. The teasing had been returned, after all. In more than just one way.

But they also had their fights. Quite physical even. And damn, Cherosh had loved that. Even if it had meant limping and being bruised for some days, it was so damned worth it. Not abuse, oh no. Just a quite intense, heated rivalry, which somehow, maybe because they had wanted it, had turned into something quite different from a rivalry.

He remembered a beautiful performer. How gentle he had been indeed. An understanding one, ready to soothe his worries, and let himself be soothed by him. They shared not only each other's, but many intertwined fates with so many people. It never had kept them from being true to each other, though.

He had awoken the carnal side in Cherosh. The raw desire and passion lurking in him. There had never been a moment of doubt, or regret in this. How could he even regret that? It had become as much of a part of him as the other aspects having shaped him. Nothing this hissing voice said would ever destroy those memories, or rob them of any of their value. Especially not when he could swear he heard the songbird from afar.

He remembered a certain crusnik. They had shared quite some antics, and Gods. How many times had he been too bruised to even sit? He couldn't recall, really. They had gone hunting together, had insulted each other, kicked each other's asses around town and back. Despite all the glares and the cursing, they never would really have hated each other.

They both had their scars. Reckless, they were. Incorrigible, with big egos and a much too short fuse. Their tempers had clashed often enough to let everyone in their neighbourhood know they weren't exactly the harmonic type. As if that would ever have matched them.

He remembered a noble vampire. The catfights over dominance, they always had been a little issue. But in the end, they had respected each other. Not only because they knew they couldn't win a fight against someone with equal strength, but because it wouldn't have changed anything either. Or at least, the change wouldn't have been worth it.

Hey, in the end, Cherosh had thought of it as pretty funny to be this certain vampire's personal bodyguard. Blood slave hadn't been an exactly time-consuming occupiation, and as he recovered just insanely fast, it never had been an obstacle. As long as his brother, as both their brothers, had been safe, there hadn't been a reason to fight over such a detail any longer.

He remembered a good colleague. Together, they had kept up order in the club. Hell, they for a long time hadn't known they had met somewhere before. Not that it had been exactly nice. The cause of both of their scars was a single man, a lunatic, but that never had become a big issue. He was locked up, the past a shadow, but not overwhelming any longer.

He had to admit, he had been a pretty big pest around the other. To the point of them arguing. That it hadn't gone further, with how drunk he had been that one evening, was beyond Cherosh's understanding. One of the very few times he had drunk alcohol at all. Though, the aftermath hadn't been all too bad, admittedly. Maybe even a little too good, almost a reward for a night spent drinking at a bar.

The expectant glow in the now forming eyes of the shadow wasn't satisfied as Cherosh met the look with an almost unnerving calmness. With a howl of anger, the shadow grew, the voice screeching unbearably loud in Cherosh's ears. Not only his ears, his whole body seemed to resonate with the impossibly high screeching of this shadow. Gods, couldn't this damned fucker calm down for just a minute?

Besides, why did this shadow want to make him hate those memories so badly? There was nothing wrong with them, absolutely nothing. Those memories all had taken place some time in the past. They had shaped him. Made him who he was. They had made him the nephilim he was today. However hard this thing would work on changing him, it wouldn't happen. Because the one having changed him the most was someone he couldn't hate in a million years.

Matthew. Once more, a meeting out of pure coincidence, an accident more likely. Dragged back after a quite horrible death, at least for half vampiric standards. Matthew had to go through quite something because of him. He had been a horrible 'servant', the original intention for his resurrected. He had hurt Matthew, over and over again. Almost to the point of being beyond forgiveness. But he had been lucky.

Not so lucky, though, when having broken his vampiric curse. It had killed him, one last time, in presence of Matt. Months passed, with him being trained in Hell. His new master had been unforgiving, and at some point, Cherosh had realized that if he ever wanted to live again, he would have to fight back. He would have to prove that he wasn't, how Azrael had phrased it, just a whining idiot.

One last time, Matthew had dragged him back from the death. It had needed time before they could approach each other without this strange tension between them. As soon as it had come this far, though, it was better than ever before. Cherosh could bid farewell to his past, to all the sorrow. But he didn't forget. He needed to remember, in order to never make the same mistake again. Forgetting would have meant to go through a painful process, to shatter memories of value.

He never had hated any of them. Not the memories themselves, not the people connected to them. He had been quite the jerk himself, and still was one. Hell, he knew it. But that didn't keep him from being happy with the one he loved. That was why he could merely laugh about the shadow's tries. He would keep this place locked in his soul. The Crossroads, where everything, and everyone, met.

He was falling...

"Cherosh? Hey, Cherosh, wake up..."

Someone shook his shoulders, and with a yawn, Cherosh blinked awake. The morning sun was spilling its soft light through the half closed blinds, and on top of him, Matthew was lying, giving him a rather confused and worried look. Cherosh smiled drowsily, rubbing his eyes. Finally. He already had feared he would lose his mind in there.

"Morning, love."

"Are you okay? When I woke up, you were all restless."

"Everything's fine, really."

Matthew gave him a doubtful look, then sighed and laid against the nephilim's chest. With a content purr, Cherosh nuzzled his nose into Matthew's hair, inhaling the other's scent. Home. He was at home, with his lover, and there was nothing to worry about. The memories lingered, making the later morning quite pleasant.

He stroke along Matthew's back, trailing the lines of the phoenix tattoo. His wings looked ruffled, even a little plucked, but he didn't mind that. Surely, Matt had been having some nice dreams, if he looked like he just had been abused as a plushie. Even if it meant that he would need quite some time to groom his wings properly.

"Sure that everything's alright?" Matthew sounded a little sleepy, which could be blamed on the warmth Cherosh radiated.

"Yeah. Just have been dreaming about some memories. No unpleasant ones, really."

"I'm still not calmed down, and you know it."

"Sure I know. You are my worried, but also very cute necromancer."

"Oh psh. Shut up, you oversized chicken."

Laughing, Cherosh pulled Matthew close and muffled any protest with a deep kiss. Matthew repaid that with a short bite on Cherosh's lower lip, which provoked a soft, playful growl. He sat up, straddling the nephilim's lap, looking quite content with his current position. And Cherosh had no objections against some morning loving.

-*-*-*-

This is my, very wordy, way to say 'Thank you'. To the ones roleplaying with me, to the ones watching me and giving me their opinions about my writing. To those supporting me with never ceasing power, and especially to those who helped shaping Cherosh, until he became what he is now. And he still is changing. Who knows what will become of him still?

One thing is sure: without all of the roleplays and the different approaches towards him, Cherosh still would be a flat character. Someone I came up with in not more than 15 minutes. He started as some cheap bad boy, but he has come a long way since.

He has become my main character, my way to express myself in writing. My way to approach other characters, and make sure that I don't fail to depict them properly. For some time, he had so many alternative forms, I almost couldn't play him any longer. Strange that it didn't occur to me for such a long time. But sometimes, it needs someone to tell you to stop and think about what you will do next.

There aren't more or less important characters Cherosh has met. But I have to admit that two of them are outstanding. The first one Cherosh ever interacted with, Kahran, who belongs to Nymphicus (aka Temera-Fjera), and the one being Cherosh's heart and soul, Matthew, who belongs to alisette. Those two contributed a whole junk of his background story and personality.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you all.