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Kindred Spirits	By : RedelliaValentinos Category: +1 through F > Danny Phantom Views: 206 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, I don't own any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from writing this story, I write this purely for the enjoyment of writing. It's just me and a keyboard and my wild brain.

Chapter List
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"Little невеста?"
Danny is at something of a loss and is feeling significantly cornered. Watching them both stare into the brush, at him, though he's well hidden...
This moment is overdue. Deep down and upon the surface, Danny knows this. He never meant to hide his form from them. Never meant to spin an air of secrecy or mystery. It just sort of happened that way. There hasn't been a good time, until now, to show himself. There hasn't been an opportunity to just go out and fly together. Ever. The last time he flew with Vlad, the only time he flew with Vlad, he didn't look like this.
When his form changed in the Far Frozen, the reaction had been largely uniform. Frostbite had been curious and even thrilled, to a certain extent. But the villagers had been terrified of him.
When he presented himself to his friends, they weren't bothered by it in the slightest. Tucker had shown the same surprise and fascination as Frostbite. He has yet to show his sister. The concept of showing Jasmine renders him so nervous that he's saving her for last.
But Vlad, and Plasmius, by extension, are due. They've earned it. And in order to proceed any further in this thing that they have, he can't keep himself hidden anymore.
It's not shame. It was never about shame. He's always liked his form.
But having had an entire village respond with fear and spears, and then cracking their island when he couldn't contain his frustration anymore, has a way of scaring him into being cautious.
"Come on, it's alright."
'Now or never.'
'Now or never.'
Worst case scenario, he has a few fun memories and his dreamscape.
He's too nervous to trust himself to walk. So he puts one hoof out, into the snow and light, and gently kicks off the ground. Gently pushing past the bushes, into the air in a silent glide and tail loosely swaying behind him.
He proceeds to circle them slowly, allowing stray beams of light catch his skin. Go big or go home, after all.
...Plasmius reaches for him first, its face stricken bare of the foul denials that birthed it and instead emoting curiosity, fascination and amazement. And wanting, first and foremost, to feel the crystalline flesh. It decides to try for a hand, eyeing long talons sculpted solely for imparting death.
Danny visibly hesitates to reciprocate. Aware of the nature of his hands, he worries about causing potentially irreparable harm. He stares at the outstretched appendage for a moment before drifting just a little closer.
As carefully as he can, Danny unfurls his fingers and offers his hand forward. Taking care to keep their sharp points angled towards himself and refraining from shaking.
Plasmius, overzealous as a starstruck child and far too much in awe, doesn't pay attention. As it takes Danny's frozen hand into its own, its palm is pricked open. Super-heated ectoplasm weeps from the wound and hisses when it contacts the frozen digits. But so quickly comes the puncture that it doesn't feel the pain.
Even if it did, the beast is far too focused on the talons themselves to care.
They're solid and flex at the same time, and unforgivably cold. They move with a strange finesse that's equivalent to their beauty. Their lethality holds no ill will towards the rest of the youth, but instead compliments him.
Plasmius, gently clutching his talons, gazes up at his face. The mask obscures all facial features, hiding emotions and expressions away behind a shimmering barrier that stares back with empty eyes. The raven colored hair he came to know hangs longer, white, and flows as if it were submerged in water.
A hidden homage neither of them are privy to.
Danny quietly chitters at him before pulling his hand free. He drifts away, the tip of his tail brushing against soot colored strands and the demon shudders.
...there's a small modicum of pain in Vlad's left hand, but it goes largely unnoticed. A mere prick of the palm is hardly of any importance when his eyes have been too busy soaking in the strangely primal design of Danny's form. And with so much to look at and study, his voice is just as lost.
The pure sheen of frozen skin curves and sharpens. Flexes with each movement. Danny's tail seems just as fluid in ice as it does in flesh. Vlad reaches a hand out for it and misses as Danny swerves around him. A fluttering tone not unlike the ring of small metal wind chimes echoes into the forest. It's reminiscent of laughter in its inflection.
And Vlad should feel frustrated at having missed, yet he doesn't. He reaches again, wanting to feel the tail's external structure because the spines look sharper than before and he wants to find out. The younger halfa simply turns in flight again, chiming laughter trailing with him.
Vlad gives up on the tail.
There's a sharp point to the younger's elbows that sparks interest. The crystalline mask, devoid of traditional orifices and flush to the skin underneath, somehow lets sound through and he wants a closer look. Danny's legs, digitigrade and oddly bent, seem too thin and impossible to stand on. But tracks in the snow indicate otherwise. Briefly, Vlad catches a glimpse of those hooves. He just barely makes out the details before loosing sight and the scientist within him jumps up and down in a tantrum.
Danny seems more interested in amusing himself. Twirling and flitting about, his tail just ghosting their shoulders in a way that would be absolutely irritating at any other moment. But in this instance, with the spinning and turning and looping, neither end of the chain is even remotely annoyed. Both simply can't help but focus on what equates to a display of grace.
The sounds he makes, the amused chimes and chitters, they all suddenly make sense to Vlad. Having been on the receiving end of more feral behavior, it all falls into place.
While he is troubled, to the degree of his ghost half gaining sentience and some morbid sense of wit, he is ultimately a gargoyle at heart. That is to say, he looms and watches. And defends when necessary.
In contrast, this creature that shimmers in the sun, that's free as a bird, playful and lighter than air, is also a hunter. A killer. One of a kind, on both sides of the veil. He already knew him to be a danger to the living. Their lunch was certainly proof enough. But seeing this side of the boy just further ingrains it, sets it into marble and gold. Vlad decides he won't envy anything that crosses the youth's path. Ancients help the poor soul that does.
Further, to picture something so delicate, so timid, so precious and unique as Daniel tearing a human apart, shattering bones and severing limbs... It would be messy. But he wagers it would be a grand and frightening show. Alluring, even.
And he'd flow in his movements just as smoothly and easily as the blood that would be drawn.
On a particularly steep flit, Vlad finally catches a hold of Danny's hand. He humors the boy in one more spin to earn more chimes of laughter before he slows to a stop.
Danny seems to calm and hovers, sensing a change in the mood. For the hand Vlad took, he curls his talons inward towards his palm to keep the points away and avoid causing harm. Resting knuckles down in the older halfa's open palm, he lets Vlad reach up to him.
Gloved fingers faintly nudge at his jaw, tilting his head into the light.
Danny lowers and rights himself, planting his hooves on the ground awkwardly as he shifts his tail to gain balance. When he stands as straight as he can, he finds himself looking down at Vlad. His legs put him a whole head taller than the elder halfa, which is new to him. Inside, something purrs.
'Interesting.'
'Interesting.'
They both decide to set it aside for later. Vlad is looking up at him with a mix of captivation and kinship and something else. Something Danny knows there's many names for. It spins many threads to life, new ideas that he has to pile away in addition to everything else.
White light projects, forcing Vlad to turn his head away. When it fades, and he faces the younger halfa again, he's shorter. Smaller. Human. But he understands, only to a point. The creature within can only be masked so much and has a habit of still managing to bleed through its living shell. Manifesting a tail, eyes that thin in response to light, fangs that don't retract, and ears that come to a point. Realistically, there isn't much actual humanity left.
In response to the silence, having expected the man to say something, anything, Danny's eyes drift downward. Along with his self-esteem.
"It's not what... It isn't really..." he sighs, "I don't know if... I know... I don't think 'imp' is right. I... It's not normal."
Nervous, fluttering squiggles of blue and orange and yellow bounce Vlad's vision. Strange awkward blends of lines and splatters that have very little rhyme and reason, make up the array of emotions practically pelting him in the face.
"...'normal' is rather passé, at this point."
Danny winces, and Plasmius swats him in the back of the head.
Vlad glares over his shoulder and rubs at his skull, "What I mean i-"
"-I know what you meant," the teen says quietly, "I just figured you'd have a little more to say than...that."
A hand comes under his chin, urging him to look up. Danny resists at first, sternly keeping his head down so he can assemble his thoughts better. But it's an insistent nudge.
"Daniel, look at me."
Slowly, questioning his judgement, the boy picks his head up. Hesitantly raising his eyes to meet him, afraid of whatever else might be said.
Vlad focuses, deep into those cyan rings like he's been hypnotized.
"I'm not very good with attachment. My few attempts at even basic companionship, well, you've met two of them. The rest did not end with anything so spectacular as altering my genetic code. They ended poorly, nonetheless. So, when it comes to communicating my feelings, I've not had much practice."
A glimmer of pity sparks in the youth's eyes.
The elder halfa cups Danny's face with both hands, gently running his thumbs over his cheeks, "But, please, forgive me when I say, I can't describe what you are. I can't put words to your shape. I can't tell you what you want to hear, because the languages that we have are all insufficient."
Ice crackles and scrapes along the grains of thermal shielding. Vlad hears it.
"You probably have some ideas assembled of what you'd like me to say, and I'm not going to use any those locutions because they're not enough."
'You could try,' Danny thinks, but doesn't speak, for fear of being considered self-centered. Especially as he understands what Vlad is saying. It's plain English, fanciful yet basic. But he still feels... Incomplete? Cheated? Jilted? He feels like Vlad could try a little harder, put more effort into it, just say what Danny wants to hear, and where the hell did this insecurity and need to be praised come from?!
Mentally, he shakes it off and the creature within does the same, both of them hating both of those sensations. They're faulty, flawed, inaccurate, incorrect, erroneous, and just plain wrong. For the simple reason that Vlad is trying to communicate. In his own way.
"To appease your obvious doubt, I will, however, tell you this..." his eyes darken, first from blue to a bruising purple, then to an ominously pulsing red, yellow streaks glitching to shape thinning pupils...
"You will complete your schooling in full. College included. I won't deprive you of your education. But once you've graduated, you are moving in to my home."
Danny blinks in surprise and blood rushes to heat his face.
Vlad quirks a brow at the silence, "Am I clear?"
Plasmius then looms over them, glaring red down at him in frightening unison.
"Well, little невеста?"
Danny's heart jerks in his chest and proceeds to work far harder than it should. He gulps in response.
"I think I got it, yeah."
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Kindred Spirits