Post by Spooky on Apr 4, 2011 20:11:25 GMT -5
As the last body slid to the floor with a thud of finality, the younger vampire licked his lips though it did little to remove the crimson stains around his mouth. There was nothing like a good feed to leave him feeling satisfied and relaxed. In the beginning it had been thrilling, the chase, the torture, the kill. He had taken to his new life with a great zeal, relishing in every moment, every lesson his maker gave. Many things had happened between then and now, some that he would rather not to think of, but he thought he preferred the contentment he felt now to the thrill of before.
Then again, hindsight was twenty-twenty.
Leaning back languidly upon the floral sofa, he surveyed the room with half-lidded eyes. Two ladies and two gentlemen, all finely dressed, lay haphazardly around the expensive rug and furniture. Dregs of society, those who have misplaced self importance and offer nothing but greed and incivility to the world; those were their victims now. Poorly mannered, new money who spent their fortune on their image and tried to hide from their debt. They would be as missed as the beggars the vampires were sometimes forced to survive upon when the upper class began to get wise and it was time to relocate. Along the road, those less fortunate were easier to obtain and to hide. They did not have the same taste, being ill fed and with such poor hygiene, but it was almost an act of mercy to put them out of their misery.
At least that was what Tulio told himself when they preyed upon his conscience while he preyed upon their blood.
His blue eyes finally falling upon his companion, he allowed himself a moment to openly admire the other man. He was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in all of his existence, this creature of darkness, taker of life, giver of eternity. This man was his teacher, his maker, his lover, is friend; he was everything. He was air, he was sustenance; he was shelter, he was life.
“What do you think? Would another mass murder be believed or should we just burn the place and be done with-” Tulio began to ask, the barest hint of a smile curving his mouth upward, but it froze in place as the words died on his lips. To anyone else the faint sound would have been inaudible, but with his enhanced hearing it shattered the bubble of contentment that had surrounded him. For a moment there was silence, and he could almost convince himself it had been his imagination, but then he heard it again, distinct and piercing...
The sound of a child crying.
There was no mistaking it, no lying to himself that it was a neighbouring house, or a ruffian on the street. The child was in the house, presumably belonging to the master of the household and his not-so charming wife.
Two of the victims staring sightlessly upward from the floor.
His eyes finding those of his sire again, there was no mistaking the haunted look dwelling in them... a familiar look. It was as if he had been transported back in time, centuries ago. The memory washed over him, making the stolen blood in his body, still warm from fresh veins, run cold.
Vladimir Dracula recognized the look as well, and if it was still possible for him to recognize the feeling of fear, he would clearly identify the snaking fingers curling around his vacant soul as such.
You see, he shared the same memory, and it was one of the few in his entire existence that he loathed and regretted above all others.
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A/N: Just a little teaser. more to come. ;D
Then again, hindsight was twenty-twenty.
Leaning back languidly upon the floral sofa, he surveyed the room with half-lidded eyes. Two ladies and two gentlemen, all finely dressed, lay haphazardly around the expensive rug and furniture. Dregs of society, those who have misplaced self importance and offer nothing but greed and incivility to the world; those were their victims now. Poorly mannered, new money who spent their fortune on their image and tried to hide from their debt. They would be as missed as the beggars the vampires were sometimes forced to survive upon when the upper class began to get wise and it was time to relocate. Along the road, those less fortunate were easier to obtain and to hide. They did not have the same taste, being ill fed and with such poor hygiene, but it was almost an act of mercy to put them out of their misery.
At least that was what Tulio told himself when they preyed upon his conscience while he preyed upon their blood.
His blue eyes finally falling upon his companion, he allowed himself a moment to openly admire the other man. He was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in all of his existence, this creature of darkness, taker of life, giver of eternity. This man was his teacher, his maker, his lover, is friend; he was everything. He was air, he was sustenance; he was shelter, he was life.
“What do you think? Would another mass murder be believed or should we just burn the place and be done with-” Tulio began to ask, the barest hint of a smile curving his mouth upward, but it froze in place as the words died on his lips. To anyone else the faint sound would have been inaudible, but with his enhanced hearing it shattered the bubble of contentment that had surrounded him. For a moment there was silence, and he could almost convince himself it had been his imagination, but then he heard it again, distinct and piercing...
The sound of a child crying.
There was no mistaking it, no lying to himself that it was a neighbouring house, or a ruffian on the street. The child was in the house, presumably belonging to the master of the household and his not-so charming wife.
Two of the victims staring sightlessly upward from the floor.
His eyes finding those of his sire again, there was no mistaking the haunted look dwelling in them... a familiar look. It was as if he had been transported back in time, centuries ago. The memory washed over him, making the stolen blood in his body, still warm from fresh veins, run cold.
Vladimir Dracula recognized the look as well, and if it was still possible for him to recognize the feeling of fear, he would clearly identify the snaking fingers curling around his vacant soul as such.
You see, he shared the same memory, and it was one of the few in his entire existence that he loathed and regretted above all others.
---------
A/N: Just a little teaser. more to come. ;D