Florian didn't understand why this was happening.

He didn't understand why he had woken up in the dark, why he had woken up bound to a flat surface made of cold metal that bit into his skin...
And when he had discovered where he was, when the lights had been flipped on... He understood even less.

Had he made some mistake, some fatal blunder that meant he deserved this horrific punishment? Had he disappointed or embarrassed his father? It didn't make sense -- he hadn't done anything different from what he had always done, hadn't made any more of a scene than he always did. And Nikolai had never been angry with him before. But the look on his father's face is not anger or disappointment. There was almost nothing to Nikolai's expression, save for a cold curiosity. Even as Florian cried, struggling against the bonds and begging to be let go, apologizing and making promises to be better, to do better, to not be so much of a fuck up and disaster. That he would be a good son if only, please God, if only, he would be released... Still, there was only that faint curiosity.

"This is not a punishment, Florian." Nikolai's voice was measured and calm as he pulled the latex gloves onto his hands, looking over the tools laid out on the metal table beside his son.

"Th-then why? Why am I here?" Florian couldn't make sense of it at all. Didn't...Didn't understand.

Nikolai spoke as he took a permanent marker from the table: "You have not aged at all in the last decade or so -- physically or mentally... It appears what extent of your inheritance there is has fully presented itself, and it's necessary for me to document precisely what that extent is." He uncapped the marker now and leaned over Florian's body.

Florian winced away as Nikolai drew a long, straight line down the center of his chest and belly. "What? I don't--"

Nikolai sighed. "It is necessary for me to discover precisely the extent of your vampiric abilities -- you are the first child that has ever been born of the union of human and Nightkind, the result of a grand experiment stretching nearly five centuries in its conduction." He pulled a blade from the table now. "I think first, it would be wise to discover precisely how much you can heal without additional blood...I would have used some form of anesthetic but I need you awake for this. Your input is vital."

Florian stared wide eyed at his father as the scalpel was pressed to the skin of his chest. It hadn't cut into the flesh yet but the cold metal sent an even colder chill of terror through his body. "No-- please! You-- you can't! I'm not--"

His words were cut off by a scream as the blade glided through flesh like butter -- splitting the skin and down into the layer of fat beneath. Blood flowed freely from the wound like the tears down Florian's cheeks.

No, he didn't understand. How could he understand this? His father had always been...Distant. Cold. But never cruel -- at least, not to Florian. Some part of him had always known that he wasn't exactly a person to his father, but he had always thought... There must have been some kind of love there, right? There must have been some affection... It wasn't even pain that made him scream, the blade was so sharp and so delicate that the initial cut into the flesh didn't even hurt, it had been the shock of the thing. But pain did follow. Pain that wracked his entire body and made his stomach heave.

"PLEASE--" Florian choked. "PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!"

Nikolai frowned at him. "Please, refrain from shouting like this, Florian. It's distracting -- I do not want to make any errors in this procedure, so you need to stay quiet and stay still."

How could he stay quiet? How could he not cry out and beg and struggle? But God, he wanted to make his father proud. Wanted to prove he was worthy of love, wanted to prove he deserved to be here -- to have been born... He clenched his fists, digging his fangs into his lower lip and trying -- trying so, so very hard -- not to cry out again.