The Vampire's Kiss: Act I - Evil Incarnations
The Church was quiet, just like every time he'd complete a sermon. Only his footsteps echoed on the clean marble floor of the big atrium. He took the hallway heading to the other building of the Abbey, turning right, with the silver emblem of the Goddess well showing over his black robe. It hadn't been many hours since the end of the Darksday Mass, and all the clerics and novices were quietly eating their dinner, before heading back to their rooms.
The priest exited into the patio and was struck by a freezing breeze that weakly stroke his face, making him shiver slightly and squeeze into his tunic. Even though it was summer, that sudden cold had gotten upset the whole country, creating, along with the tax increment, a general malcontent.
He, as a priest, tried in every possible way to placate their souls with his sermons. He had become what he was with the intent to contribute to that disarticulated society, to try and lead back the people of his community on the path to Righteousness. He knew every single citizen of the small town, and the Mayor's son was his best friend.
Many people would seek him for advice, especially women who would first confess themselves and discuss their married life with him. They'd see in him not only a paragon of virtue, but also a rather attractive man.
One would've never imagined him as a man of the church, had he not worn his clerical robe. His long chestnut hair were usually kept tied into a long braid that he kept straight behind his back, with tidy bangs framing dark brown eyes that shun with traces of gold, expressing cheerfulness and vivacity. His young face, of a forever-serene expression, was a real temptation for any woman that would visit the Church to hear one of his sermons. His age would've been approximately between the twenty and twenty-five years old, even though he'd hardly show it.
He was now heading to his room in the convent, crossing through the vast hallway that would take him to the spiral staircase leading to the novices' quarters. He walked into one of them, who looked rather in a hurry. Keeping his usual calm and tranquility the priest approached him, smiling kindly.
- Are you all right, son? - he asked politely. - You should be in your room at this late.
The boy gasped slightly, fixing his glasses hanging to the tip of his nose. He bowed, as if apologizing.
- I'm sorry, Father, I was here to inform you that the Mayor is here, and awaits you in the room next to the confessional. -, he stopped to catch some breathe. - He says this is urgent, and that he wants to see you immediately.
The priest frowned. - Urgent, you say?
- Yes, Father. Urgent. - repeated the boy. Then, after performing a reverence, he quickly trotted up the thin staircase, heading to his room.
The priest could do nothing but turn his back and cross the short, narrow hallway the way he came.
Out in the patio, he realized it was snowing again. The snowflakes floated lightly, moved by the wind, and trees and bushes were turning white bit by bit.
He went back to the main building, walking through the cloister's big halls, under the arches, and lastly arriving into the vast room where the Mayor and his firstborn greeted him with respect. The candle holders were lit, placed over a mahogany table next to some ancient paper rolls, spreading into the air a mixed smell of humidity and burned wax.
His two guests were standing, and sat only when he motioned to take two of the chairs in the room, as he placed himself on another one, in front of them. He smiled at them.
- Speak freely, I'm listening.
The Mayor shifted into a more comfortable position, laying his back against the chair. His expression betrayed a poorly hidden anxiety. His blue eyes quickly moved to meet the just-as-blue ones of his son, to then look back intensely at the priest's face.
He took a long breath. - I'm sorry to ask you such kind of favors, Father, I know you have your fair amount of duties but… the town is in turmoil. -, he said, nervously playing with his necktie. - We're going through a difficult period, especially with this hell of ice in full August.
The priest chuckled. - It is the hell of blazes that you should worry about, Mr. Mayor. -, he said smiling, to then look at his friend. - Anyways, Peb… could you explain me what's going on here? I have to prepare tomorrow's sermon and I've got little time.
- See, Father…
- Mirror. -, the priest corrected him promptly, with a grin.
The Mayor's son shook his head, glancing almost in amusement at his father, who had rolled his eyes in discomfort. It was a lost cause for him, to try and be formal with the priest.
- Fine, as you wish, Mirror. - He complied. - We need your help on a rather delicate matter.
- What is it? - He pressed on.
- Someone's started a sort of witch hunt, back in town.
- Um… a witch hunt?
The Mayor jumped in. - That's right, Father. It's all because of this sudden, stingy cold in such a hot month. The harvest is poor and the crops are freezing… the people are afraid this is the result of a curse.
- They should well know that this is foolishness. We already had an early winter in the past. - He said, skeptical. - And honestly, nobody looked as agitated as you claim today.
- That's because something else happened in the past six hours-. added the Mayor, looking at the library behind the priest for a few long instants, feigning interest. The gaze darkened as it returned on the man of the church. - More than eight people … have died, Father.
- Died? Was it natural causes or…?
- Oh, no no. The circumstances are mysterious. -, his voice lowered, turning almost into a whisper. - No heart attacks or anything. No traces of weapons, nothing at all.. only two tiny holes to the side of the neck. The people fear… this may be Evil incarnated.
The priest almost understood. He blinked, startled. He stood up, and started to march ruefully across the room. under the concerned, almost scared looks of his guests, who just kept shrugging at each other.
Evil incarnations…
Even though he was a man of the church, he didn't believe to such things. He raised one hand to clench it around his Goddess's emblem, gripping on it.
- So, they fear…? - He asked, interested.
The answer came fast and painful, whispered with a shaky voice, shocking him.
- Vampires.
The priest fell in silence, enveloping them into a state of mystic contemplation. All he could hear was the howling wind against the window, shaking its glasses. The gaze instinctively fell upon the Holy Book placed on the desk, next to an oil lamp. His facial traits were impossible to read, as well as his thoughts.
- Don't tell me you believe to this kind of folklore, Mr. Mayor. - He said quietly, looking at him.
- You should believe too, Father. You are a man of the church. - He replied.
- I believe in Our Goddess, but I cannot conceive the existence of creatures such as… - he stopped for a second, to then finish the sentence with a trace of disdain. - … vampires.
A sudden rumbling thunder filled the air. The snowy weather had left the stage to an intense thunderstorm. Rain started to drum against the windows with crescent ferocity, as if desperate people were trying to come in and plead for a shelter.
The Mayor's son, who up to that point hadn't actively participated to the conversation, cleared his throat to question the priest. - Then how do you explain the marks on their necks?
- Some psychopath assassin decided to kill his victims with this method to blame some assumed vampires. - He steadily answered.
- They had no traces of blood left in their bodies. - continued Peb, ignoring the ironic tone that he had caught into the back of the priest's voice. - Their skin was shriveled against their very bones, I don't think any normal assassin can do that.
- Just what do you want me to do? I merely bring the word of the Goddess.
The Mayor stepped in again. - We plan to go find this creature and we thought you might join us.
- Do you have any clue? - He asked, sighing. Not even the Goddess of Dawn would've made them change their minds.
- Not exactly. At first we wanted to checkout that ancient mansion to the other side of the forest. - He stood up, nodding to his son to do the same. - Tomorrow evening, in the council room, men and women of the town will gather, and then we'll decide who will go and who will stay. Will you join us, Father?
The priest thought about those words carefully. He was still rather skeptical, but after some hesitations, he nodded. - I'll come.. don't worry.
- Thank you, Father.
After the conversation had ended, the priest was alone in the room, staring in thought at every single rain drop hitting the glass.
Vampires…
The more he thought about it, the more he saw it as something absurd. Unlike the friars and clerics he knew, and those in his same Abbey, he couldn't conceive the idea that such creatures so similar to humans could exist, and feed themselves of people's blood.
He just couldn't, no matter what. It was pointless.
But, if it would've been useful even just to reassure the community he might've as well gone to the meeting.
He found himself roaming his gaze over ancient tomes, and caught some rather interesting titles. He wondered if he should've read them or not. He had entered the Church when he was but ten, and had spent almost all his life in there, but had never carefully read those books.
He stood up with a sigh, crossing the magnificent building again to reach his room. He knelt next to his bed, and recited a couple prayers before standing back up. He laid down on the mattress, without even taking off his robe.
It would've been a long day…
And it was promisingly disturbing.
The Church was quiet, just like every time he'd complete a sermon. Only his footsteps echoed on the clean marble floor of the big atrium. He took the hallway heading to the other building of the Abbey, turning right, with the silver emblem of the Goddess well showing over his black robe. It hadn't been many hours since the end of the Darksday Mass, and all the clerics and novices were quietly eating their dinner, before heading back to their rooms.
The priest exited into the patio and was struck by a freezing breeze that weakly stroke his face, making him shiver slightly and squeeze into his tunic. Even though it was summer, that sudden cold had gotten upset the whole country, creating, along with the tax increment, a general malcontent.
He, as a priest, tried in every possible way to placate their souls with his sermons. He had become what he was with the intent to contribute to that disarticulated society, to try and lead back the people of his community on the path to Righteousness. He knew every single citizen of the small town, and the Mayor's son was his best friend.
Many people would seek him for advice, especially women who would first confess themselves and discuss their married life with him. They'd see in him not only a paragon of virtue, but also a rather attractive man.
One would've never imagined him as a man of the church, had he not worn his clerical robe. His long chestnut hair were usually kept tied into a long braid that he kept straight behind his back, with tidy bangs framing dark brown eyes that shun with traces of gold, expressing cheerfulness and vivacity. His young face, of a forever-serene expression, was a real temptation for any woman that would visit the Church to hear one of his sermons. His age would've been approximately between the twenty and twenty-five years old, even though he'd hardly show it.
He was now heading to his room in the convent, crossing through the vast hallway that would take him to the spiral staircase leading to the novices' quarters. He walked into one of them, who looked rather in a hurry. Keeping his usual calm and tranquility the priest approached him, smiling kindly.
- Are you all right, son? - he asked politely. - You should be in your room at this late.
The boy gasped slightly, fixing his glasses hanging to the tip of his nose. He bowed, as if apologizing.
- I'm sorry, Father, I was here to inform you that the Mayor is here, and awaits you in the room next to the confessional. -, he stopped to catch some breathe. - He says this is urgent, and that he wants to see you immediately.
The priest frowned. - Urgent, you say?
- Yes, Father. Urgent. - repeated the boy. Then, after performing a reverence, he quickly trotted up the thin staircase, heading to his room.
The priest could do nothing but turn his back and cross the short, narrow hallway the way he came.
Out in the patio, he realized it was snowing again. The snowflakes floated lightly, moved by the wind, and trees and bushes were turning white bit by bit.
He went back to the main building, walking through the cloister's big halls, under the arches, and lastly arriving into the vast room where the Mayor and his firstborn greeted him with respect. The candle holders were lit, placed over a mahogany table next to some ancient paper rolls, spreading into the air a mixed smell of humidity and burned wax.
His two guests were standing, and sat only when he motioned to take two of the chairs in the room, as he placed himself on another one, in front of them. He smiled at them.
- Speak freely, I'm listening.
The Mayor shifted into a more comfortable position, laying his back against the chair. His expression betrayed a poorly hidden anxiety. His blue eyes quickly moved to meet the just-as-blue ones of his son, to then look back intensely at the priest's face.
He took a long breath. - I'm sorry to ask you such kind of favors, Father, I know you have your fair amount of duties but… the town is in turmoil. -, he said, nervously playing with his necktie. - We're going through a difficult period, especially with this hell of ice in full August.
The priest chuckled. - It is the hell of blazes that you should worry about, Mr. Mayor. -, he said smiling, to then look at his friend. - Anyways, Peb… could you explain me what's going on here? I have to prepare tomorrow's sermon and I've got little time.
- See, Father…
- Mirror. -, the priest corrected him promptly, with a grin.
The Mayor's son shook his head, glancing almost in amusement at his father, who had rolled his eyes in discomfort. It was a lost cause for him, to try and be formal with the priest.
- Fine, as you wish, Mirror. - He complied. - We need your help on a rather delicate matter.
- What is it? - He pressed on.
- Someone's started a sort of witch hunt, back in town.
- Um… a witch hunt?
The Mayor jumped in. - That's right, Father. It's all because of this sudden, stingy cold in such a hot month. The harvest is poor and the crops are freezing… the people are afraid this is the result of a curse.
- They should well know that this is foolishness. We already had an early winter in the past. - He said, skeptical. - And honestly, nobody looked as agitated as you claim today.
- That's because something else happened in the past six hours-. added the Mayor, looking at the library behind the priest for a few long instants, feigning interest. The gaze darkened as it returned on the man of the church. - More than eight people … have died, Father.
- Died? Was it natural causes or…?
- Oh, no no. The circumstances are mysterious. -, his voice lowered, turning almost into a whisper. - No heart attacks or anything. No traces of weapons, nothing at all.. only two tiny holes to the side of the neck. The people fear… this may be Evil incarnated.
The priest almost understood. He blinked, startled. He stood up, and started to march ruefully across the room. under the concerned, almost scared looks of his guests, who just kept shrugging at each other.
Evil incarnations…
Even though he was a man of the church, he didn't believe to such things. He raised one hand to clench it around his Goddess's emblem, gripping on it.
- So, they fear…? - He asked, interested.
The answer came fast and painful, whispered with a shaky voice, shocking him.
- Vampires.
The priest fell in silence, enveloping them into a state of mystic contemplation. All he could hear was the howling wind against the window, shaking its glasses. The gaze instinctively fell upon the Holy Book placed on the desk, next to an oil lamp. His facial traits were impossible to read, as well as his thoughts.
- Don't tell me you believe to this kind of folklore, Mr. Mayor. - He said quietly, looking at him.
- You should believe too, Father. You are a man of the church. - He replied.
- I believe in Our Goddess, but I cannot conceive the existence of creatures such as… - he stopped for a second, to then finish the sentence with a trace of disdain. - … vampires.
A sudden rumbling thunder filled the air. The snowy weather had left the stage to an intense thunderstorm. Rain started to drum against the windows with crescent ferocity, as if desperate people were trying to come in and plead for a shelter.
The Mayor's son, who up to that point hadn't actively participated to the conversation, cleared his throat to question the priest. - Then how do you explain the marks on their necks?
- Some psychopath assassin decided to kill his victims with this method to blame some assumed vampires. - He steadily answered.
- They had no traces of blood left in their bodies. - continued Peb, ignoring the ironic tone that he had caught into the back of the priest's voice. - Their skin was shriveled against their very bones, I don't think any normal assassin can do that.
- Just what do you want me to do? I merely bring the word of the Goddess.
The Mayor stepped in again. - We plan to go find this creature and we thought you might join us.
- Do you have any clue? - He asked, sighing. Not even the Goddess of Dawn would've made them change their minds.
- Not exactly. At first we wanted to checkout that ancient mansion to the other side of the forest. - He stood up, nodding to his son to do the same. - Tomorrow evening, in the council room, men and women of the town will gather, and then we'll decide who will go and who will stay. Will you join us, Father?
The priest thought about those words carefully. He was still rather skeptical, but after some hesitations, he nodded. - I'll come.. don't worry.
- Thank you, Father.
After the conversation had ended, the priest was alone in the room, staring in thought at every single rain drop hitting the glass.
Vampires…
The more he thought about it, the more he saw it as something absurd. Unlike the friars and clerics he knew, and those in his same Abbey, he couldn't conceive the idea that such creatures so similar to humans could exist, and feed themselves of people's blood.
He just couldn't, no matter what. It was pointless.
But, if it would've been useful even just to reassure the community he might've as well gone to the meeting.
He found himself roaming his gaze over ancient tomes, and caught some rather interesting titles. He wondered if he should've read them or not. He had entered the Church when he was but ten, and had spent almost all his life in there, but had never carefully read those books.
He stood up with a sigh, crossing the magnificent building again to reach his room. He knelt next to his bed, and recited a couple prayers before standing back up. He laid down on the mattress, without even taking off his robe.
It would've been a long day…
And it was promisingly disturbing.
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
The Vampire's Kiss: Act II - A New Victim
The village looked almost silent in the feeble afternoon light, with a bare handful of people still left in the small market to the right of the residences, before heading to the meeting place. The trees' branches were rocking slightly, under the lull of the wind that had been blowing much more weakly than usual that day. Even the cold had faded, and the almost hot and muggy climate was making his black robe's collar rather pointless, suffocating him. Those jumps in temperature had been going on for over a month, it was no news for him to feel hot or cold at the same time.
He took a small road leading to the houses in the village's perimeter, where he could see the municipality peeking between a line of trees and bushes, almost hiding it. Once inside his ears immediately caught the soft humming of all the villagers reunited there to talk, and they all turned to look at him as he appeared in the hall; on most of their faces was a surprised expression, but showing at the same time devotion and gratitude as they saw him.
They were all were aware of his skepticism, and his presence alone seemed to alleviate the community. The priest sat among them, with kind greetings and polite smiles, waiting with them that the reunion would begin. When even the last villager took a seat, the Mayor and his son walked up a small stage at the end of the big hall lighted with torches and lamps, that the benches occupied most of its central surface.
The Mayor cleared his throat. The attention immediately focused on him, talking quietly to his son and a white-haired mithra with a blue dress and a pair of glasses over her nose. Looking from one to the other, he turned to talk to the crowd.
- Thanks to the most of you for coming here, my friends. - He started with a clear and firm voice, almost loud. - Especially to you, Father. - He then added, motioning in his direction.
Then he resumed. - As you are aware, we are here for a very specific reason. - He gave a small cough, bringing one hand to his mouth. - We must shed light over the recent events in town.
Long moments of silence followed. Many people shifted nervously on their benches, looking around. Fear could be sensed in every corner, every soul in that room dreaded the consequences of that desperate expedition.
The Mayor called them back to order. - I don't want to put any of you in danger, but I need at least fifteen men willing to follow. - He didn't look troubled, rather almost excited by the perspective of a possible clash. - These monsters must be punished, we cannot allow them to do as they please!
The crowd started to show some enthusiasm, and one after another, with a clear voice, those willing to participate stood up calling their name. The priest was hardly listening, lost in his thoughts, so distracted the Mayor might've as well been talking to himself.
He was brought back to reality as his name was mentioned. He blinked, and looked up at the Mayor and his friend. Everybody was looking at him, with pleading eyes. He felt uneasy.
- You're in, aren't you, Father? - Had asked the Mayor, studying his face with his washed-out blue eyes.
He had caught little to nothing of the talk, but he knew what the request was. To participate to the vampire hunt. Reluctant on the answer, he forced himself to do it when the question was asked again, with well-concealed impatience.
- I'm with you, Mr. Mayor. - He sighed, giving up. He caught the pleased expression that shown on his face and the one of his friend, and that little victory smile arousing on their lips, as well as on those of the other villagers.
There was a weak scraping noise on the floor, and the fifteen people who had decided to join the expedition stood back up to gather around the Mayor. The priest rushed to follow them, glancing behind his back. All those left sitting, almost a couple hundreds or more, were excitedly mumbling to each other, looking at the small group next to the stage.
They had started to discuss how to move, what they would've done, and more than one of them looked amused, almost excited.
- Let's show those bastards! We should set them on fire! - Exclaimed immediately a black-haired young man with a gun hanging on his right side. - They made enough victims already!
The Mayor's son shook his head, patting his shoulder. - Calm down, Roy. We must first find out where they're hiding.
- I know where they're hiding, Peb!
- We do not know for sure that they're in that mansion, so shut up and listen.
The priest finally got in hearing range, approaching. He knew why that boy was so eager to find the culprit of those massacres: his girlfriend was among the victims. He had celebrated her funeral that very morning, along with those others who had lost their lives.
The white-haired mithra ended the talk, imposing silence to both of them to speak. - I think we should handle this carefully, gentlemen. - She said, strict and calm. - If we act on instinct, we could all fall in their hands. The best thing to do is wait for tomorrow's sunrise, when we're sure they won't leave their coffins. - That last word was spelled with disdain.
The only things they were aware of, about vampires, was that they hated the sunlight and garlic, that they feared the Goddess' emblem, and that they could only be killed with a picked stabbing straight into their heart, but they couldn't even know whether that folklore would be actually right or wrong.
- Easy for you to talk! - Exclaimed the boy, furious. - Those monsters didn't kill anyone in your family!
- You won't solve anything with a heart full of rage, son. - Stepped in the priest. - Besides, Mrs. Hae is probably right, we must wait.
- But… Father… - He muttered, and then sighed as he met his understanding gaze. - You're right, Father… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get hyped like that.
- Errare humanus est [1] - He replied with a polite smile, that was returned by the boy.
The attention went back on the Mayor, who had been in the meantime explaining what was to be done, often getting lost in long digressions of the past, where presumed weaknesses of their foes had been uncovered.
The priest, distracted, wondered how long that would've taken, when all of a sudden a dreadful scream echoed in the hall. All the people turned towards the door, looking around with shocked expressions.
- It came from outside! - Someone screamed.
Following the Mayor and his men, the priest dashed out of the building, his shadow almost gone into the darkness of the night. The light of the oil lamp they were keeping to the front was lighting little to nothing, as all the lanterns to the house doors slowly lit one by one.
They could hear the insisting cry of a kid, and as they turned past a corner, what they saw froze them all in shock, unable to move one more step.
A pair of feral-like eyes, of an azure glow were shining in the darkness with the same intensity of the pearl-white set of canines stained with blood. The creature stared at them, with a weak chuckle, before disappearing in a cloud of smoke, leaving to the ground a young woman in agony, her neck copiously vermillion.
The crying grew louder, and the kid that had been hiding behind some barrels approached the woman, shaking her, calling her, without stopping his mourning. The priest's hand reached to his mouth, unable to speak, as the Mayor's son and two other men approached to examine the body, shedding light over it with the oil lamp.
The brown gold-streaked eyes were wide and shocked, staring blankly to their faces, a voice-less scream rising from her lips, her hands gripping convulsively with the feeble strength left in her to one of their jackets, as if trying to climb on her feet, refusing to abandon life.
- My.. son… - She whispered with a feeble voice, closing her eyes. - … My…
Blood was streaming copiously from the holes on her neck, and her face grew paler and paler, her breathing difficult.
- Do you believe now, Father? - Asked the Mayor in a whisper.
How not to believe, after such a sight? Snapping back into his senses, the priest stepped forth, walking to the kid who was still crying. He lifted him from the ground, trying to calm him down.
The kid could've been around the seven years old, with short curly hair dirty with soil, and his golden eyes were swollen by tears, staring at him in terror.
- It's okay, son. - He murmured, trying to comfort him. - It's all right.
Nothing was right, at all.
He knew who that kid and his mother were, the woman who had just stopped breathing forever. Malay and Aiden Sant. How would he have given such a new to the old mother of the woman? How to do so without murdering her heart as well?
- Mom… mommy! - The kid started to call, in the priest's arms, trying to reach out towards the senseless corpse. - Mommy!
The priest stepped out of the street, carrying away the kid still yelling, trying to get off of him and run to his mother. He entrusted him to the Mayor, who went back to the village with the boy, as the priest walked back to kneel next to woman, placing the Goddess' emblem on her chest.
- Altana et Deam Noster, hanc animam inter tuis brachiis accepi, dona que Eternam Gratiam [2] - He prayed in an ancient language, slowly caressing her forehead. He looked up at his friend, and he took off his jacked to put it over her body.
- I can't believe this. - He then whispered, shaking his head. - Even though I've seen it with my own eyes, I can't believe this.
The Mayor's son stood back up, and motioned to the other men to leave. He put one hand on the priest's shoulder, his washed-out blue-gray eyes betraying his emotions. Concern, sadness, and even anger towards the monsters were well displaying on his face, and this didn't go unnoticed by the priest, who observed him with narrowed eyes.
He stood up, wearing his emblem and looking one last time to the still body of the woman. - Please, Peb… Let's carry her away from here. - He murmured, walking away.
Nine people had died in less than twenty-four hours and there still was no trace of the… responsible vampires.
He could still see in his mind the glowy azure eyes of the creature, and that grin showing sharp teeth.. and that sinister laughter it had let out before fading away like fog. He had managed to catch, in the feeble light, its apparently young form, its alabaster face looked pale and cold, almost if made of marble.
They were dealing with something powerful and unknown, and he felt it wouldn't have been easy to eliminate them… And he felt there were more than one.
No, he knew it.
And as he walked back towards the municipality, with the moon peeking from behind the clouds, lighting their layouts, a cold breeze started to blow, slithering into his robe.
He felt something strange.
As if…
He was not alone.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
[1] To err is human.
[2] Accept this soul into your arms, O Goddess, and grant her Eternal Grace.
The village looked almost silent in the feeble afternoon light, with a bare handful of people still left in the small market to the right of the residences, before heading to the meeting place. The trees' branches were rocking slightly, under the lull of the wind that had been blowing much more weakly than usual that day. Even the cold had faded, and the almost hot and muggy climate was making his black robe's collar rather pointless, suffocating him. Those jumps in temperature had been going on for over a month, it was no news for him to feel hot or cold at the same time.
He took a small road leading to the houses in the village's perimeter, where he could see the municipality peeking between a line of trees and bushes, almost hiding it. Once inside his ears immediately caught the soft humming of all the villagers reunited there to talk, and they all turned to look at him as he appeared in the hall; on most of their faces was a surprised expression, but showing at the same time devotion and gratitude as they saw him.
They were all were aware of his skepticism, and his presence alone seemed to alleviate the community. The priest sat among them, with kind greetings and polite smiles, waiting with them that the reunion would begin. When even the last villager took a seat, the Mayor and his son walked up a small stage at the end of the big hall lighted with torches and lamps, that the benches occupied most of its central surface.
The Mayor cleared his throat. The attention immediately focused on him, talking quietly to his son and a white-haired mithra with a blue dress and a pair of glasses over her nose. Looking from one to the other, he turned to talk to the crowd.
- Thanks to the most of you for coming here, my friends. - He started with a clear and firm voice, almost loud. - Especially to you, Father. - He then added, motioning in his direction.
Then he resumed. - As you are aware, we are here for a very specific reason. - He gave a small cough, bringing one hand to his mouth. - We must shed light over the recent events in town.
Long moments of silence followed. Many people shifted nervously on their benches, looking around. Fear could be sensed in every corner, every soul in that room dreaded the consequences of that desperate expedition.
The Mayor called them back to order. - I don't want to put any of you in danger, but I need at least fifteen men willing to follow. - He didn't look troubled, rather almost excited by the perspective of a possible clash. - These monsters must be punished, we cannot allow them to do as they please!
The crowd started to show some enthusiasm, and one after another, with a clear voice, those willing to participate stood up calling their name. The priest was hardly listening, lost in his thoughts, so distracted the Mayor might've as well been talking to himself.
He was brought back to reality as his name was mentioned. He blinked, and looked up at the Mayor and his friend. Everybody was looking at him, with pleading eyes. He felt uneasy.
- You're in, aren't you, Father? - Had asked the Mayor, studying his face with his washed-out blue eyes.
He had caught little to nothing of the talk, but he knew what the request was. To participate to the vampire hunt. Reluctant on the answer, he forced himself to do it when the question was asked again, with well-concealed impatience.
- I'm with you, Mr. Mayor. - He sighed, giving up. He caught the pleased expression that shown on his face and the one of his friend, and that little victory smile arousing on their lips, as well as on those of the other villagers.
There was a weak scraping noise on the floor, and the fifteen people who had decided to join the expedition stood back up to gather around the Mayor. The priest rushed to follow them, glancing behind his back. All those left sitting, almost a couple hundreds or more, were excitedly mumbling to each other, looking at the small group next to the stage.
They had started to discuss how to move, what they would've done, and more than one of them looked amused, almost excited.
- Let's show those bastards! We should set them on fire! - Exclaimed immediately a black-haired young man with a gun hanging on his right side. - They made enough victims already!
The Mayor's son shook his head, patting his shoulder. - Calm down, Roy. We must first find out where they're hiding.
- I know where they're hiding, Peb!
- We do not know for sure that they're in that mansion, so shut up and listen.
The priest finally got in hearing range, approaching. He knew why that boy was so eager to find the culprit of those massacres: his girlfriend was among the victims. He had celebrated her funeral that very morning, along with those others who had lost their lives.
The white-haired mithra ended the talk, imposing silence to both of them to speak. - I think we should handle this carefully, gentlemen. - She said, strict and calm. - If we act on instinct, we could all fall in their hands. The best thing to do is wait for tomorrow's sunrise, when we're sure they won't leave their coffins. - That last word was spelled with disdain.
The only things they were aware of, about vampires, was that they hated the sunlight and garlic, that they feared the Goddess' emblem, and that they could only be killed with a picked stabbing straight into their heart, but they couldn't even know whether that folklore would be actually right or wrong.
- Easy for you to talk! - Exclaimed the boy, furious. - Those monsters didn't kill anyone in your family!
- You won't solve anything with a heart full of rage, son. - Stepped in the priest. - Besides, Mrs. Hae is probably right, we must wait.
- But… Father… - He muttered, and then sighed as he met his understanding gaze. - You're right, Father… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get hyped like that.
- Errare humanus est [1] - He replied with a polite smile, that was returned by the boy.
The attention went back on the Mayor, who had been in the meantime explaining what was to be done, often getting lost in long digressions of the past, where presumed weaknesses of their foes had been uncovered.
The priest, distracted, wondered how long that would've taken, when all of a sudden a dreadful scream echoed in the hall. All the people turned towards the door, looking around with shocked expressions.
- It came from outside! - Someone screamed.
Following the Mayor and his men, the priest dashed out of the building, his shadow almost gone into the darkness of the night. The light of the oil lamp they were keeping to the front was lighting little to nothing, as all the lanterns to the house doors slowly lit one by one.
They could hear the insisting cry of a kid, and as they turned past a corner, what they saw froze them all in shock, unable to move one more step.
A pair of feral-like eyes, of an azure glow were shining in the darkness with the same intensity of the pearl-white set of canines stained with blood. The creature stared at them, with a weak chuckle, before disappearing in a cloud of smoke, leaving to the ground a young woman in agony, her neck copiously vermillion.
The crying grew louder, and the kid that had been hiding behind some barrels approached the woman, shaking her, calling her, without stopping his mourning. The priest's hand reached to his mouth, unable to speak, as the Mayor's son and two other men approached to examine the body, shedding light over it with the oil lamp.
The brown gold-streaked eyes were wide and shocked, staring blankly to their faces, a voice-less scream rising from her lips, her hands gripping convulsively with the feeble strength left in her to one of their jackets, as if trying to climb on her feet, refusing to abandon life.
- My.. son… - She whispered with a feeble voice, closing her eyes. - … My…
Blood was streaming copiously from the holes on her neck, and her face grew paler and paler, her breathing difficult.
- Do you believe now, Father? - Asked the Mayor in a whisper.
How not to believe, after such a sight? Snapping back into his senses, the priest stepped forth, walking to the kid who was still crying. He lifted him from the ground, trying to calm him down.
The kid could've been around the seven years old, with short curly hair dirty with soil, and his golden eyes were swollen by tears, staring at him in terror.
- It's okay, son. - He murmured, trying to comfort him. - It's all right.
Nothing was right, at all.
He knew who that kid and his mother were, the woman who had just stopped breathing forever. Malay and Aiden Sant. How would he have given such a new to the old mother of the woman? How to do so without murdering her heart as well?
- Mom… mommy! - The kid started to call, in the priest's arms, trying to reach out towards the senseless corpse. - Mommy!
The priest stepped out of the street, carrying away the kid still yelling, trying to get off of him and run to his mother. He entrusted him to the Mayor, who went back to the village with the boy, as the priest walked back to kneel next to woman, placing the Goddess' emblem on her chest.
- Altana et Deam Noster, hanc animam inter tuis brachiis accepi, dona que Eternam Gratiam [2] - He prayed in an ancient language, slowly caressing her forehead. He looked up at his friend, and he took off his jacked to put it over her body.
- I can't believe this. - He then whispered, shaking his head. - Even though I've seen it with my own eyes, I can't believe this.
The Mayor's son stood back up, and motioned to the other men to leave. He put one hand on the priest's shoulder, his washed-out blue-gray eyes betraying his emotions. Concern, sadness, and even anger towards the monsters were well displaying on his face, and this didn't go unnoticed by the priest, who observed him with narrowed eyes.
He stood up, wearing his emblem and looking one last time to the still body of the woman. - Please, Peb… Let's carry her away from here. - He murmured, walking away.
Nine people had died in less than twenty-four hours and there still was no trace of the… responsible vampires.
He could still see in his mind the glowy azure eyes of the creature, and that grin showing sharp teeth.. and that sinister laughter it had let out before fading away like fog. He had managed to catch, in the feeble light, its apparently young form, its alabaster face looked pale and cold, almost if made of marble.
They were dealing with something powerful and unknown, and he felt it wouldn't have been easy to eliminate them… And he felt there were more than one.
No, he knew it.
And as he walked back towards the municipality, with the moon peeking from behind the clouds, lighting their layouts, a cold breeze started to blow, slithering into his robe.
He felt something strange.
As if…
He was not alone.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
[1] To err is human.
[2] Accept this soul into your arms, O Goddess, and grant her Eternal Grace.
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
The Vampire's Kiss: Act III - Observed
A pearl-colored dawn was cutting through the milky sky; the fog coming down from the mountains was slowly pouring into the valley, hampering their quick advance. The snowy peaks, over there by the western side of the woods they had entered, were their only landmark in that white emptiness that was surrounding them. Everything was silent; it would've taken still a couple hours before the animals living in the forest would awaken, and the quietness, along with the naked trees losing their last leaves, was framing an overall gloomy and mysterious environment.
They were moving with difficulties into the snow, accompanied by the weak breeze flapping their clothes every now and then, and the thin shadows standing out in front of them, preceding them. The noise of nothingness was deafening; only the beat of the hearts in their chests echoing into their heads. Their soft breaths condensed into small clouds of steam, their fatigued panting the only sound dominating the surroundings.
They were heading to the other side of the woods, where the ancient mansion awaited, built into a valley between bramble bushes and thick shrubs over three-hundreds years ago, empty, uninhabited. They found themselves into a narrow path filled with plants, slithering steeply between the trees, almost invisible into the thick forest. The snow here had melted, muddying the soil, but they couldn't have fastened their walk anyway because of the gnarled and twisted roots tangled to each other, with their bark covered in moss.
They shuffled ominously over the dead leaves, hearing every now and then the crawling sounds of reptiles leaving their lairs before any other animal. The trees had started to be even thicker, and forced them to struggle even more, while the first whispers started to fill the air between the group.
The priest looked up, beyond the evergreen fronds, where the sky was partially painted of a light and pale blue, slightly striped with white; it meant the sun had almost completely risen. He felt uneasiness throughout his body, blending with an unpleasant emotion he had felt the night before, growing stronger and stronger the more they'd approach the mansion.
Little by little they reached the clearing and the trees got fewer in number, allowing them to see the huge ancient building towering over them. They walked up to it, their hearts violently beating into their chest, into their throats, as they opened the big, heavy ebony door, that creaked ominously.
The entrance hall was enormous, with a dusty floor; it served as connection between two other big doors in chestnut wood to the left and right of the hall, while a long corridor ran along the center of the hall in which they were, spreading and splitting into other rooms. There were several furnitures to the ground, laying over shattered glasses, surrounding a great chandelier that that collapsed, its statuary decorations and details scattered over the marble floor.
All what helped them not to trip into the rubble was the feeble light of the sun coming from the grand windows to the sides of the walls. They all gulped, glancing at each other with lost expression, not daring a step forward.
The priest took the lead, advancing between the furnishings and fragments, followed by his best friend, possibly the least nervous man into the group.
- We should split. - Said the priest, picking up something from the ground with both hands, something that looked to have fallen only recently. - It will take us less time.
He swept the dust away, unveiling an ancient frame containing a picture about as big as an open book. It pictured four smiling persons, dressing medieval clothes. The woman had light chestnut hair cut to the shoulders, and was sitting while keeping in her arms a baby with pinkish cheeks, reaching out to the man standing next to the woman. The man had long chestnut hair, collected into a low and rather loose ponytail, with long bangs framing his face which shown a younger face than the woman's, probably barely in his thirties. Last, with one tiny hand on the woman's forearm, was a chestnut-haired boy with his lips pursed into a sweet, eternal smile, his big and innocent blue eyes looked almost amusedly at the painter that had made the portrait.
The priest caressed slightly the picture, contemplating it. How many centuries past had that family live there? He shook the thoughts off his head, putting down the picture against one of the pillars in the room, feeling a strange anxiety. He turned towards the Mayor, who was walking into the corridor with three other men. He took a deep breath, glancing one last time at the portrait, before opening the door on the left wall, peeking inside.
It was a stone hallway filled with torches that had lost their light centuries past, and old, rusty steel armors corroded by the time, hardly standing over their platforms. He advanced cautiously, by himself. There were things there he could not understand, things he didn't even think he'd want to understand, but that was undoubtedly watching them, in that abandoned house.
He turned around a corner, opening a door, and finding a big room with a four-posted bed in the center, covered with luxurious blankets in black silk, now almost of a pale gray because of all the dust resting on it. The carvings into golden wood were refined and had kept their shape well, almost immune to the flow of time. Undoubtedly a masterpiece of some well-paid woodworker.
The other furniture was composed of only a big oak wardrobe filling the whole northern wall of the room, which was facing a great balcony on the outside of the mansion, with a good sight over the gloomy, sinister woods. Aside those few furnitures, there was nothing else that could indicate that room to belong to one of the members of the family he had seen in the picture. No toys for two children, no drawer with jewelry case for a lady, no razor or bathing area that could belong to the lord…
Nothing. Absolutely nothing…
Hesitantly, he approached the big wardrobe, and opened it. Inside were just a pair of worn clothes, also covered in dust, vaguely similar to what could've belonged to their age. He reached out to touch one of the sleeves, but pulled his hand back, hearing a rustle behind. He turned around, alerted.
There was nothing.
A strong uneasiness took over him as he exited, only more confused, to go check other rooms. He was positive he had heard something move. Maybe it could've been a rat. Or maybe his imagination?
He checked the other rooms one by one, without finding anything interesting. As expected.
The sun was high in the sky when he went back to the others, the light filling the vast corridors.
- Oh, here you are, Father. - Said the Mayor as he saw him, wiping sweat from his face with an handkerchief. - Found anything?
- Nothing. - He said with a sigh. - And you?
- Same… We checked the mansion upside down, but there is nothing. - He replied, glancing quickly behind himself, as if looking around. - Not even a secret passage, or a trapdoor… Everything's normal, there is nothing wrong.
Maybe it was the tone in his voice as he spoke those words that made the priest suspicious, because he looked at him doubtfully, before bringing one hand to his chin. Perhaps it had been just an impression, yes. The whole story had been putting him under pressure, and finding nothing that could lead to a solution of their problems was leading him to suspect of anyone.
- I think it would be bast to go back in town, Mr. Mayor. - He said, suddenly feeling very hot. - Before night falls.
- You are right. - He agreed, turning to face his son and the others, to the other side of the room. - Come, we're going back! It's a long way back home, so hurry!
In the blink of an eye they were outside again, in the open and humid air, the sun ferociously gazing upon their heads. They took the path into the woods while from above, hidden by the fronds, two pair of eyes, with different colors but similar shape, studied them alertedly, distant and amused at the same time.
- Are you sure he is the one you want? - A funny and ironic whisper, from a thin and velvety voice.
- Yes. - Replied another voice, calm and cold.
- Three-hundred years with you, and I still don't get you. - Whispered the other, with a low chuckle that blended into the rising wind.
- I don't need you to understand.
- Nervous, aren't we? You should drink more.
- I don't want to catch attention, and you should do the same. They saw you, last night.
- Unlike you, I don't plan to starve to death. - He snapped with another soft chuckle, before his blue-gray eyes darted snake-like towards the underwood. - How long are you planning to wait, anyway?
There was silence for a few moments, before a soft sigh broke the gloomy silence.
- Until the Full Moon.
- Not too long, then.
- Mhm…
A soft murmur of crushed dead leaves.
A glimpse at the figures advancing below.
The vivid blue pupils, now almost black, dilated by the thirst of blood, observed interest at only one figure amongst those that were slowly fading into the vegetation leading to the small village.
- Be ready… Mirror.
A pearl-colored dawn was cutting through the milky sky; the fog coming down from the mountains was slowly pouring into the valley, hampering their quick advance. The snowy peaks, over there by the western side of the woods they had entered, were their only landmark in that white emptiness that was surrounding them. Everything was silent; it would've taken still a couple hours before the animals living in the forest would awaken, and the quietness, along with the naked trees losing their last leaves, was framing an overall gloomy and mysterious environment.
They were moving with difficulties into the snow, accompanied by the weak breeze flapping their clothes every now and then, and the thin shadows standing out in front of them, preceding them. The noise of nothingness was deafening; only the beat of the hearts in their chests echoing into their heads. Their soft breaths condensed into small clouds of steam, their fatigued panting the only sound dominating the surroundings.
They were heading to the other side of the woods, where the ancient mansion awaited, built into a valley between bramble bushes and thick shrubs over three-hundreds years ago, empty, uninhabited. They found themselves into a narrow path filled with plants, slithering steeply between the trees, almost invisible into the thick forest. The snow here had melted, muddying the soil, but they couldn't have fastened their walk anyway because of the gnarled and twisted roots tangled to each other, with their bark covered in moss.
They shuffled ominously over the dead leaves, hearing every now and then the crawling sounds of reptiles leaving their lairs before any other animal. The trees had started to be even thicker, and forced them to struggle even more, while the first whispers started to fill the air between the group.
The priest looked up, beyond the evergreen fronds, where the sky was partially painted of a light and pale blue, slightly striped with white; it meant the sun had almost completely risen. He felt uneasiness throughout his body, blending with an unpleasant emotion he had felt the night before, growing stronger and stronger the more they'd approach the mansion.
Little by little they reached the clearing and the trees got fewer in number, allowing them to see the huge ancient building towering over them. They walked up to it, their hearts violently beating into their chest, into their throats, as they opened the big, heavy ebony door, that creaked ominously.
The entrance hall was enormous, with a dusty floor; it served as connection between two other big doors in chestnut wood to the left and right of the hall, while a long corridor ran along the center of the hall in which they were, spreading and splitting into other rooms. There were several furnitures to the ground, laying over shattered glasses, surrounding a great chandelier that that collapsed, its statuary decorations and details scattered over the marble floor.
All what helped them not to trip into the rubble was the feeble light of the sun coming from the grand windows to the sides of the walls. They all gulped, glancing at each other with lost expression, not daring a step forward.
The priest took the lead, advancing between the furnishings and fragments, followed by his best friend, possibly the least nervous man into the group.
- We should split. - Said the priest, picking up something from the ground with both hands, something that looked to have fallen only recently. - It will take us less time.
He swept the dust away, unveiling an ancient frame containing a picture about as big as an open book. It pictured four smiling persons, dressing medieval clothes. The woman had light chestnut hair cut to the shoulders, and was sitting while keeping in her arms a baby with pinkish cheeks, reaching out to the man standing next to the woman. The man had long chestnut hair, collected into a low and rather loose ponytail, with long bangs framing his face which shown a younger face than the woman's, probably barely in his thirties. Last, with one tiny hand on the woman's forearm, was a chestnut-haired boy with his lips pursed into a sweet, eternal smile, his big and innocent blue eyes looked almost amusedly at the painter that had made the portrait.
The priest caressed slightly the picture, contemplating it. How many centuries past had that family live there? He shook the thoughts off his head, putting down the picture against one of the pillars in the room, feeling a strange anxiety. He turned towards the Mayor, who was walking into the corridor with three other men. He took a deep breath, glancing one last time at the portrait, before opening the door on the left wall, peeking inside.
It was a stone hallway filled with torches that had lost their light centuries past, and old, rusty steel armors corroded by the time, hardly standing over their platforms. He advanced cautiously, by himself. There were things there he could not understand, things he didn't even think he'd want to understand, but that was undoubtedly watching them, in that abandoned house.
He turned around a corner, opening a door, and finding a big room with a four-posted bed in the center, covered with luxurious blankets in black silk, now almost of a pale gray because of all the dust resting on it. The carvings into golden wood were refined and had kept their shape well, almost immune to the flow of time. Undoubtedly a masterpiece of some well-paid woodworker.
The other furniture was composed of only a big oak wardrobe filling the whole northern wall of the room, which was facing a great balcony on the outside of the mansion, with a good sight over the gloomy, sinister woods. Aside those few furnitures, there was nothing else that could indicate that room to belong to one of the members of the family he had seen in the picture. No toys for two children, no drawer with jewelry case for a lady, no razor or bathing area that could belong to the lord…
Nothing. Absolutely nothing…
Hesitantly, he approached the big wardrobe, and opened it. Inside were just a pair of worn clothes, also covered in dust, vaguely similar to what could've belonged to their age. He reached out to touch one of the sleeves, but pulled his hand back, hearing a rustle behind. He turned around, alerted.
There was nothing.
A strong uneasiness took over him as he exited, only more confused, to go check other rooms. He was positive he had heard something move. Maybe it could've been a rat. Or maybe his imagination?
He checked the other rooms one by one, without finding anything interesting. As expected.
The sun was high in the sky when he went back to the others, the light filling the vast corridors.
- Oh, here you are, Father. - Said the Mayor as he saw him, wiping sweat from his face with an handkerchief. - Found anything?
- Nothing. - He said with a sigh. - And you?
- Same… We checked the mansion upside down, but there is nothing. - He replied, glancing quickly behind himself, as if looking around. - Not even a secret passage, or a trapdoor… Everything's normal, there is nothing wrong.
Maybe it was the tone in his voice as he spoke those words that made the priest suspicious, because he looked at him doubtfully, before bringing one hand to his chin. Perhaps it had been just an impression, yes. The whole story had been putting him under pressure, and finding nothing that could lead to a solution of their problems was leading him to suspect of anyone.
- I think it would be bast to go back in town, Mr. Mayor. - He said, suddenly feeling very hot. - Before night falls.
- You are right. - He agreed, turning to face his son and the others, to the other side of the room. - Come, we're going back! It's a long way back home, so hurry!
In the blink of an eye they were outside again, in the open and humid air, the sun ferociously gazing upon their heads. They took the path into the woods while from above, hidden by the fronds, two pair of eyes, with different colors but similar shape, studied them alertedly, distant and amused at the same time.
- Are you sure he is the one you want? - A funny and ironic whisper, from a thin and velvety voice.
- Yes. - Replied another voice, calm and cold.
- Three-hundred years with you, and I still don't get you. - Whispered the other, with a low chuckle that blended into the rising wind.
- I don't need you to understand.
- Nervous, aren't we? You should drink more.
- I don't want to catch attention, and you should do the same. They saw you, last night.
- Unlike you, I don't plan to starve to death. - He snapped with another soft chuckle, before his blue-gray eyes darted snake-like towards the underwood. - How long are you planning to wait, anyway?
There was silence for a few moments, before a soft sigh broke the gloomy silence.
- Until the Full Moon.
- Not too long, then.
- Mhm…
A soft murmur of crushed dead leaves.
A glimpse at the figures advancing below.
The vivid blue pupils, now almost black, dilated by the thirst of blood, observed interest at only one figure amongst those that were slowly fading into the vegetation leading to the small village.
- Be ready… Mirror.
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
The Vampire's Kiss: Act IV - Insane Doubts
Nothing could be heard in the vast and now empty chapel but his feeble breathing and his footsteps towards the several niches where the candles were kept. He lit the ones that had been extinguished by the drafts, inhaling deeply the sweet smell of incense impregnating the chapel. Away from the woods, the town, all the negative feelings that those places had fueled inside him, in his Abbey he felt serene, as if he was truly home.
Since when they had returned from that inconclusive expedition, he had been haunted by the impression to be constantly observed, as if someone's eyes could be following him everywhere. It was late in the night, and he was the only one awake in the building. The other friar and novices had gone to bed several hours before; he was the only soul to be yet awake.
He sat on one of the benches used by the churchgoers, looking up at the Goddess's carved statue into the wall, resting hands on his lap with a vaguely sad expression on his beautifully young face.
The situation was capitulating, and his faith risked to do the same. He couldn't understand why Altana would do nothing to help them. He shook those thoughts off his head and buried the face in his hands, making amend and immediately regretting for doubting the Goddess.
- Ignosci me, Mater. [1] - He whispered, closing his eyes. He grabbed the emblem hanging from his neck, and started to pray.
In the darkness of the chapel, meanwhile, comfortably sitting on the arches of the Church, where no human eye could reach without looking with intent, two figures kept staring at him. The first was leaning against the small gallery with folded arms, chuckling and humming every now and then. He found that new hunting method quite amusing. He turned his attention to the second figure, who was leaning with his back against one of the beams supporting the ceiling.
- He shouldn't be our target. - He pointed out abruptly, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
The answer was but a small snort, before he'd shift slightly, as if annoyed.
- You think I don't know? - Said the voice, contemptuously.
- So why do you insist on stalking him? - He asked again, letting out a small mephistophelean chuckle that blew gently around them.
- What I do is my business alone, remember that.
- Then let's get this over with and drink his blood… I'm sick of waiting. - Complained with an almost child-like tone, but the cold eyes of the companion started at him in disappointment.
- I don't want to feed myself with him. - He said flat, looking down again.
The first shadow stared in surprise. - How do you mean, you don't plan to feed yourself with him?
- You got what I mean.
The surprise grew more, and he raised an eyebrow. - You don't mean…? - He asked, shocked.
The second one cut him off, shushing him. - Yes. - He folded arms on his chest, walking to him.
- But… You know what would happen. - Getting no answer, he continued. - Our uncle wouldn't be pleased. - He tried to dissuade him. - You know that…
An annoyed snort from the second voice didn't let him continue. The vivacious blue of his eyes grew darker. - I don't care, he will have to deal with it. Whether he likes it or not.
- But… - He tried again.
- Must I remind you that, after all, we're nothing but the same?
That statement struck the first one like a slap straight into the face, to the point that he clenched one hand over the railing of the gallery, narrowing eyes and snarling softly. - That's why I keep drinking. - He said feebly, showing his canins into a snarl. - Just because of that.
The second shadow chuckled softly, careful to not be noticed. - Remember the transition.. - He continued, amused by the anger he could feel boiling into his companion. - … It's all because of his transition.
- Don't remind me! - He snarled in a cat-like hiss. He let the railing go, to turn his back at the second one. - Stay here as you please, I'm going to hunt… - He paused to crack his neck and rotate his shoulders. - … back in the village.
He leaped and disappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving the other shadow to contemplate the focused face of the priest beneath the scaffold. His face had a slight frown, and its traits changed following the regular movements of his jaw, his voice echoing softly in the hall as he murmured his prayers.
Tsk. Foolish humans. So devout to a Goddess that wouldn't even listen.
That priest was no different.
And that very priest, caught by a sudden feeling, raised his gaze to the ceiling without any real reason, staring into the darkness intently. There, between the wooden beams and the gallery, he noticed the sparkle of two blue eyes that widened for a second, unveiled, and glanced at him one last time before disappearing. The priest blinked, and looked away.
An apparition caused by tiredness? Those eyes were terribly familiar. His mind desperately tried to summon the image, the memory. But he couldn't no matter how hard he'd try. He took a deep breath, letting his gaze run throughout the chapel and sighing on and on.
He lost himself, contemplating the nine arcades supporting the dome, the vaults, the trabeation and the tripartite architrave, the fine decorations and bas-relieves climbing up the columns to the side of the naves, displaying pictures that he had learned to heart. Often times, when he was but a child, he'd sneak out of the dorms to venture aimlessly in the cloister and into the Church, hiding into the latter and staring at every single picture or sculpture inside it.
He wondered if his life would've been the same, had he not become a priest. He doubted that. Shaking his head, he took another deep breath.
He quickly exited into the patio, feeling oppressed by a yet louder silence, as he calmly walked towards the Abbey, completely dark into the night lit only by the feeble lunar light. He walked away from the building, stopping to the other side of an enclosure. From there, he could spot the weak lanterns of the town, no sign of life in the streets.. not even theshadow of a dog rummaging into the trash for food. Everything was absurdly calm.
He hesitated and then stepped forward, walking down the small grassy path, heading to the village. What pushed him to do so, he couldn't know. Around him, the light of the clear moon allowed the trees to display their silhouettes, similar to silvery nocturnal specters. He arrived to the center of the city, without even realizing so, and gulped with no reason, once again haunted by the negative feelings that had tormented him that morning.
Before he could even move a muscle, he heard a scream rising into the hair, ripping the silence and awakening the inhabitants who had just started to lit their lamps in their bedrooms.
How could he always find himself in town always at the worst possible moment? He dashed from where the scream came, and in the middle of the street he could see the blood shining ominously over the mangled lifeless body of Zeti-Reti, that dear Tarutaru boy that would collect offerings for the Church. The right arm had almost completely torn away, and his mouth and eyes were widened, his head and and arm turned towards the body of a Hume woman with light chestnut hair, lifeless as well.
Avina Burkhardt.
Sitting on a low wall next to them was the blue-gray-eyed creature, his lips smiling and shining with fresh blood. He made a slightnod to the priest, crossing legs and resting his right elbow on a knee, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. The man of the church widenes his eyes, gulping, as a small group of villagers gathered around him, looking at the scene and screaming in terror.
The creature burst into a loud laughter, amused by the horror in the air. - It's almost time… - He whispered with still voice, hopping off the wall and pointing at the crowd, before spreading his arms wide open and jerking his red-haired head back, looking up at the sky. He looked back at them, smiling slyly. With a single movement of his hand, he pointed at them one by one, letting out one last amused laughter.
Everyone stared at him, their faces pale. Suddenly the creature disappeared, as if fading into the fog, and the crowd stood frozen where it was, unable to look away from that horrible and dramatic scene before their eyes. The Mayor pushed his way through the crowd, approaching the priest and followed by three men, his escort, and their gazes immediately fell upon the motionless corpses of the two youths.
The Mayor shook his head, running one hand between his hair. - From this day on, we're applying a curfew! - He intimated, turning slightly. - Go back to your homes and lock inside until the morrow!
The crowd didn't wait to be told that a second time, and everybody rushed away.
Respectfully, the son of the Mayor placed one hand on the priest's shoulder, biting his lower lip, unable to speak. The priest stared in silence, blinking every now and then. The more time would pass, the more the situation seemed to be getting out of their hands.
He couldn't understand how many those monsters were. What they wanted. They were striking without a real reason, and on completely random pattern. Up to that moment, it had always been the same one: the red-haired reaper.
He had to find a solution, and fast. Before everything would degenerate into chaos. Before others would die. He turned to go back to the Abbey, but his friend stopped him.
- Why were you here, Mirror?
He turned to look at him. Lowering his head, he sighed. - I was taking a walk. - He murmured.
- At this late?
He could sense something into his voice, but he couldn't comprehend it. He looked up at him.
- Are you suspecting me, Peb?
- Every time that monster… - He started, trying to keep a referential note in his voice. - … You happen to be there… too.
He didn't like his friend's tone.
- Peb, think well… Do you really believe I could have anything to do with this story?
- I don't know what to believe anymore, Mirror.
- What is the source of such insane doubts? - He asked, touching the Goddess's emblem to his neck. - Let me remind you that from the very beginning I didn't believe to anything about these vampires.
- I'm sorry, Father. - He whispered back, taking a long breath and trying to be formal again. - I'm speaking a bunch of nonsense.
The priest could well understand his concern. He had a family to protect, and had no clue on what to do. But, now that he thought about it, that monster did look to be stalking him somehow. He always found him, on his path.
- Don't worry, Peb. - He said, waving one hand to end the question. - I know how you feel. I'm worried too.
- Forgive me again, Father.
- I think it is best that I go back to the Church.
- I'll come with you.
- Why? - He asked, blinking.
- I need to confess. - He replied, with a shrug.
The priest pursed his lips into a smile, and nodded to him to follow.
- Wait, Father! - He heard someone exclaim. The two turned around to look at the Mayor approaching. - I'm coming too, if you don't mind. - He said, suspiciously nervous.
The man of the Church blinked, then looked at his friend and nodded before all three would walk up the road, followed only by the indistinct shape of the moon and the low inaudible laughters blending into the sound of the wind.
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[1] Forgive me, Mother.
Nothing could be heard in the vast and now empty chapel but his feeble breathing and his footsteps towards the several niches where the candles were kept. He lit the ones that had been extinguished by the drafts, inhaling deeply the sweet smell of incense impregnating the chapel. Away from the woods, the town, all the negative feelings that those places had fueled inside him, in his Abbey he felt serene, as if he was truly home.
Since when they had returned from that inconclusive expedition, he had been haunted by the impression to be constantly observed, as if someone's eyes could be following him everywhere. It was late in the night, and he was the only one awake in the building. The other friar and novices had gone to bed several hours before; he was the only soul to be yet awake.
He sat on one of the benches used by the churchgoers, looking up at the Goddess's carved statue into the wall, resting hands on his lap with a vaguely sad expression on his beautifully young face.
The situation was capitulating, and his faith risked to do the same. He couldn't understand why Altana would do nothing to help them. He shook those thoughts off his head and buried the face in his hands, making amend and immediately regretting for doubting the Goddess.
- Ignosci me, Mater. [1] - He whispered, closing his eyes. He grabbed the emblem hanging from his neck, and started to pray.
In the darkness of the chapel, meanwhile, comfortably sitting on the arches of the Church, where no human eye could reach without looking with intent, two figures kept staring at him. The first was leaning against the small gallery with folded arms, chuckling and humming every now and then. He found that new hunting method quite amusing. He turned his attention to the second figure, who was leaning with his back against one of the beams supporting the ceiling.
- He shouldn't be our target. - He pointed out abruptly, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
The answer was but a small snort, before he'd shift slightly, as if annoyed.
- You think I don't know? - Said the voice, contemptuously.
- So why do you insist on stalking him? - He asked again, letting out a small mephistophelean chuckle that blew gently around them.
- What I do is my business alone, remember that.
- Then let's get this over with and drink his blood… I'm sick of waiting. - Complained with an almost child-like tone, but the cold eyes of the companion started at him in disappointment.
- I don't want to feed myself with him. - He said flat, looking down again.
The first shadow stared in surprise. - How do you mean, you don't plan to feed yourself with him?
- You got what I mean.
The surprise grew more, and he raised an eyebrow. - You don't mean…? - He asked, shocked.
The second one cut him off, shushing him. - Yes. - He folded arms on his chest, walking to him.
- But… You know what would happen. - Getting no answer, he continued. - Our uncle wouldn't be pleased. - He tried to dissuade him. - You know that…
An annoyed snort from the second voice didn't let him continue. The vivacious blue of his eyes grew darker. - I don't care, he will have to deal with it. Whether he likes it or not.
- But… - He tried again.
- Must I remind you that, after all, we're nothing but the same?
That statement struck the first one like a slap straight into the face, to the point that he clenched one hand over the railing of the gallery, narrowing eyes and snarling softly. - That's why I keep drinking. - He said feebly, showing his canins into a snarl. - Just because of that.
The second shadow chuckled softly, careful to not be noticed. - Remember the transition.. - He continued, amused by the anger he could feel boiling into his companion. - … It's all because of his transition.
- Don't remind me! - He snarled in a cat-like hiss. He let the railing go, to turn his back at the second one. - Stay here as you please, I'm going to hunt… - He paused to crack his neck and rotate his shoulders. - … back in the village.
He leaped and disappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving the other shadow to contemplate the focused face of the priest beneath the scaffold. His face had a slight frown, and its traits changed following the regular movements of his jaw, his voice echoing softly in the hall as he murmured his prayers.
Tsk. Foolish humans. So devout to a Goddess that wouldn't even listen.
That priest was no different.
And that very priest, caught by a sudden feeling, raised his gaze to the ceiling without any real reason, staring into the darkness intently. There, between the wooden beams and the gallery, he noticed the sparkle of two blue eyes that widened for a second, unveiled, and glanced at him one last time before disappearing. The priest blinked, and looked away.
An apparition caused by tiredness? Those eyes were terribly familiar. His mind desperately tried to summon the image, the memory. But he couldn't no matter how hard he'd try. He took a deep breath, letting his gaze run throughout the chapel and sighing on and on.
He lost himself, contemplating the nine arcades supporting the dome, the vaults, the trabeation and the tripartite architrave, the fine decorations and bas-relieves climbing up the columns to the side of the naves, displaying pictures that he had learned to heart. Often times, when he was but a child, he'd sneak out of the dorms to venture aimlessly in the cloister and into the Church, hiding into the latter and staring at every single picture or sculpture inside it.
He wondered if his life would've been the same, had he not become a priest. He doubted that. Shaking his head, he took another deep breath.
He quickly exited into the patio, feeling oppressed by a yet louder silence, as he calmly walked towards the Abbey, completely dark into the night lit only by the feeble lunar light. He walked away from the building, stopping to the other side of an enclosure. From there, he could spot the weak lanterns of the town, no sign of life in the streets.. not even theshadow of a dog rummaging into the trash for food. Everything was absurdly calm.
He hesitated and then stepped forward, walking down the small grassy path, heading to the village. What pushed him to do so, he couldn't know. Around him, the light of the clear moon allowed the trees to display their silhouettes, similar to silvery nocturnal specters. He arrived to the center of the city, without even realizing so, and gulped with no reason, once again haunted by the negative feelings that had tormented him that morning.
Before he could even move a muscle, he heard a scream rising into the hair, ripping the silence and awakening the inhabitants who had just started to lit their lamps in their bedrooms.
How could he always find himself in town always at the worst possible moment? He dashed from where the scream came, and in the middle of the street he could see the blood shining ominously over the mangled lifeless body of Zeti-Reti, that dear Tarutaru boy that would collect offerings for the Church. The right arm had almost completely torn away, and his mouth and eyes were widened, his head and and arm turned towards the body of a Hume woman with light chestnut hair, lifeless as well.
Avina Burkhardt.
Sitting on a low wall next to them was the blue-gray-eyed creature, his lips smiling and shining with fresh blood. He made a slightnod to the priest, crossing legs and resting his right elbow on a knee, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. The man of the church widenes his eyes, gulping, as a small group of villagers gathered around him, looking at the scene and screaming in terror.
The creature burst into a loud laughter, amused by the horror in the air. - It's almost time… - He whispered with still voice, hopping off the wall and pointing at the crowd, before spreading his arms wide open and jerking his red-haired head back, looking up at the sky. He looked back at them, smiling slyly. With a single movement of his hand, he pointed at them one by one, letting out one last amused laughter.
Everyone stared at him, their faces pale. Suddenly the creature disappeared, as if fading into the fog, and the crowd stood frozen where it was, unable to look away from that horrible and dramatic scene before their eyes. The Mayor pushed his way through the crowd, approaching the priest and followed by three men, his escort, and their gazes immediately fell upon the motionless corpses of the two youths.
The Mayor shook his head, running one hand between his hair. - From this day on, we're applying a curfew! - He intimated, turning slightly. - Go back to your homes and lock inside until the morrow!
The crowd didn't wait to be told that a second time, and everybody rushed away.
Respectfully, the son of the Mayor placed one hand on the priest's shoulder, biting his lower lip, unable to speak. The priest stared in silence, blinking every now and then. The more time would pass, the more the situation seemed to be getting out of their hands.
He couldn't understand how many those monsters were. What they wanted. They were striking without a real reason, and on completely random pattern. Up to that moment, it had always been the same one: the red-haired reaper.
He had to find a solution, and fast. Before everything would degenerate into chaos. Before others would die. He turned to go back to the Abbey, but his friend stopped him.
- Why were you here, Mirror?
He turned to look at him. Lowering his head, he sighed. - I was taking a walk. - He murmured.
- At this late?
He could sense something into his voice, but he couldn't comprehend it. He looked up at him.
- Are you suspecting me, Peb?
- Every time that monster… - He started, trying to keep a referential note in his voice. - … You happen to be there… too.
He didn't like his friend's tone.
- Peb, think well… Do you really believe I could have anything to do with this story?
- I don't know what to believe anymore, Mirror.
- What is the source of such insane doubts? - He asked, touching the Goddess's emblem to his neck. - Let me remind you that from the very beginning I didn't believe to anything about these vampires.
- I'm sorry, Father. - He whispered back, taking a long breath and trying to be formal again. - I'm speaking a bunch of nonsense.
The priest could well understand his concern. He had a family to protect, and had no clue on what to do. But, now that he thought about it, that monster did look to be stalking him somehow. He always found him, on his path.
- Don't worry, Peb. - He said, waving one hand to end the question. - I know how you feel. I'm worried too.
- Forgive me again, Father.
- I think it is best that I go back to the Church.
- I'll come with you.
- Why? - He asked, blinking.
- I need to confess. - He replied, with a shrug.
The priest pursed his lips into a smile, and nodded to him to follow.
- Wait, Father! - He heard someone exclaim. The two turned around to look at the Mayor approaching. - I'm coming too, if you don't mind. - He said, suspiciously nervous.
The man of the Church blinked, then looked at his friend and nodded before all three would walk up the road, followed only by the indistinct shape of the moon and the low inaudible laughters blending into the sound of the wind.
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[1] Forgive me, Mother.
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
The Vampire's Kiss: Act V - Disquieting Tales
They were once again into the large rectangular room of the Abbey, both sitting and drinking some tea one of the novices had just prepared. The atmosphere was dense, palpable, the silence so clear it was possible to hear the creaking of the old wooden beams into the hallway.
The Mayor had stayed longer than needed, sending his son back to the village to keep an eye on the situation, and now, with his right hand slightly shaking, he was looking around nervously as if making sure nobody was there to overhear. He knew very well that something was wrong in that Church. Nobody could know better than him.
He took another sip from his teacup, before placing it on the table, under the careful and curious gaze of the priest, who couldn't understand the reason of such a great anxiety. The man of the church shifted into a more comfortable position, resting hands on his lap.
- You said you wanted to talk to me, Mr. Mayor. - He said.
The Mayor sighed, nodding slightly. He stood up, placing both hands on the mahogany table, staring at the priest with narrowed eyes.
- It's a story that dates back to a couple centuries ago, Father. - He said, turning his back at him. - When the land we live today was under the control of mystic creatures.
The priest moved two fingers to his lips, crossing legs nonchalantly. - I've read a couple books that mentioned this legend. - He replied, still skeptical, while rubbing his forehead and making an almost pained expression. It had been quite stressful days, but he imposed himself to keep listening to the Mayor and pretending to feel normal.
- It wasn't a legend at all, Father. - He heard him say, watching him shake his head. - You could see that vampires exist yourself. And they have been living here for many centuries.
- So, why are they coming out just now? - He asked, reaching out to pour in some more tea.
- The reason, unfortunately, is beyond my comprehension. - He said, sitting back down. - I can only tell you what my grandfather told my father, who then told myself.
For a couple seconds, they both were quiet. Then, calmly, the priest took a long sigh, looking at him in the face. - I'm all ears.
Gathering all his courage, the Mayor picked up his cup and took a long sip, then slowly blinked. - You see, once upon a time, all what we're now used to see and consider to be ours was in the hands of a powerful vampire. - He stopped to observe the startled expression on the priest's face. - It was a sort of… hunter to put an end to his existence, killing him after a bloody battle.
The priest nodded calmly, his forehead beaded with sweat. He took a long breath, sensing dizziness. - I don't see how this is related to… - He mumbled, but then held his head in his hands, hissing suddenly in pain.
Alarmed, the Mayor stood up, walking up to him. - Father, what's wrong? Are you sick? - He asked worriedly, but his voice reached the priest as the lapping noise of a waterfall. His temples were pulsing ferociously, as he bit his lower lip keeping his head low; his eyes were burning, and his stomach felt like to be twisting.
- W-what were you trying to do?
- I'm sorry… You're not used to this, forgive me.
Voices he had never heard before invaded his mind. He felt his abdominal muscles tightening into a grip, as if burning, and brought one arm to his stomach to try and ease a part of that pain.
- I'll go find someone to help! - He heard the deep and worried voice of the Mayor exclaim, and before this one could go too far, he grabbed his jacked, shaking his head weakly and looking up. His chocolate brown eyes were veiled by a thin layer of tears.
- I'm… I'm fine, Mr. Mayor. - He swallowed. - Just a passing… illness.
- Here, drink something Father. - The man reached out to grab the teapot and fill the priest's cup with a good amount of tea. - Take it.
Bowing his head to thank him, the man of the church took the cup with both hands, sipping slowly the liquid. He then put it back down, looking at the Mayor. - I'm feeling better now, thank you.
- Don't mention it, Father. - He sat back, glancing at him from time to time, apprehensively. That strange and sudden illness was worrying him. He had seen him in such a state only when he was but an eight-years-old; delirious of fever, he had screamed his father's name, as well as his mother's, that he had never met, even names of people he had never known before.
He saw the priest pursing his lips into a weak smile. - Please don't look at me like that, Mr. Mayor. I'm okay.
- I hope so.
A thunder tore the sky suddenly, making both jump on their chairs. Nervously, the Mayor jumped back on his feet. - I-I think I should go now, Father. I'm sorry. - He muttered in a rush, playing with his own hands, lowering his head to greet the priest and then rushing out of the room.
The latter, still a bit startled by the man's strange behavior, also stood up and exited into the corridor. The figure of the Mayor was quickly stepping away, his back getting smaller and smaller.
- Mr. Mayor! - Exclaimed the priest, trying to call him back. He didn't turn around, and kept walking until he exited into the patio, crossing it and rushing past the main garden, up to the main entrance.
Outside, everything was dark, and the first rumblings indicating the beginning of a new thunderstorm could be heard.
He had to move quickly. The situation was more desperate than he thought.
The Mayor walked down the small road leading to the village quickly, bursting into his house furiously and receiving a shocked exclamation from his son, in the room next to the entrance. Without giving further explanations, he rushed upstairs to his room, where he started to rummage obsessively into his desk's drawers, looking for something.
When he felt one hand placing over his shoulder, he gasped, and several papers and pens fell from his hand and onto the ground.
- Dad. - Murmured his son's voice, watching him sigh in relief. - Is everything all right?
The man moved one hand on his chest, breathing heavily. - It's all right, son. - He took a breath. - It's all right.
He found what he was looking for when he carefully looked into the drawer, and pulled out a small wooden box carved with fine details. His son looked over his shoulder, curiously.
- What do you want to do with that? - He asked, watching the shining blade of a knife. It was the knife that had once belonged to an ancestor, and that had always been conserved as a family treasure. Its handle was perfectly carved, wrapped into luxurious black silk and silvery watermark, with a small diamond embedded, and a thin sheath of smooth black leather; it shown absolutely no wrinkle nor scratches even though it was centuries old.
He had managed to see its blade only once, flat, of an almost crystal-like blue hue, and the two sharp edges converging into a keen tin slightly curved to the left. It was a true masterpiece.
- Nothing. - Whispered the Mayor, pulling out from the drawer also a silver pistol, and turning with a forced smile on his face. - Don't worry about it, Peb. - He patted his shoulder. - Where did you take those two young ones' corpses…?
Peb frowned, confused. - In the abandoned house that we use as a warehouse. - He replied, blinking a few times. - Why?
He watched his father setting the pistol into his belt, picking up a few strangely-shaped bullets. - Cut their heads and bury them as soon as possible.
Peb's eyes widened at those words, hoping that his father could be just messing with him. - Dad, you're creeping me out… Are you sure everything is okay?
- I tell you, I'm fine. - Said the man flat, walking back to the threshold, ignoring the concerned look on his son's face. Before he'd walk out of the room, he felt his hand on his shoulder again, and he turned to him with a sigh. - What is it now, Peb? - He murmured tiredly.
- Where are you going, dad? - The tone of his voice was almost afraid.
The Mayor smiled, seeing that worried frown so similar to the expression he had when he was but a child. Keeping him unaware of his origins had been the best decision he had ever made. - I'm only going to check the surroundings, don't worry.
- You can't go outside, dad! It's still night! - Exclaimed in shock. - Those monsters could..
- We're not safe in the daylight either, my son. - He interrupted him, watching him open his mouth in surprise.
- W-what are you saying!?
- Don't believe to everything you hear from the townsfolk, Peb… These people don't know what these creatures can do, trust me.
- Dad, you are really scaring me now. - He gulped, quietly. That whole story was driving him insane.
- I'm going. Take care of your wife and daughter. - He slowly blinked, settling the knife to his belt and hiding it under a cape along with the gun. - Don't allow them to get hurt.
He headed to the stairs, but he was blocked by his son again, who stepped before him. - I'm coming with you!
- Don't you dare, Peb. - He yelled at him, shoving him away. He started to trot down quickly, and went to a small desk to pick up an oil lantern, lighting it with a match. The flame immediately bursted, spreading light in the house.
- Damn it, dad, just wait! - His son had reached him, and was holding a gun in his hands, holding it out for him. The Mayor sighed, shaking his head. He had no clue on what could be out there, if he was planning to show up with something that pointless.
Shortly after, on the threshold appeared the figure of Peb's wife, holding a sleeping child in her hands. She stared at them curiously, without understanding the reason behind the two's tension.
- Where are you going at this late, Mr. Renford? - She asked in a whisper, trying to not wake up her daughter. The man smiled weakly at her, opening the door, ready to exit.
- I'll be back soon, don't worry. - He said calmly. - But if things were to turn out bad, you and your wife move out to Tavnazia, am I clear?
- Dad, what…?
- Am I clear!?
He lowered his gaze, barely nodding. - Please, take this with you! - He exclaimed, his head jerking back up to look at him with pleading eyes, motioning to the gun.
The Mayor didn't know what to say at that point. He shrugged and shook his head, exiting into the small yard. - That thing doesn't do anything to them. - He whispered, and then started running into the dark night with the lamp tight in his hand, not looking back at the small glimpse of light shedding on the small street. The knife and pistol he had in the belt bounced at every stride, his breathe growing more and more fatigued the more he ran without stopping. He entered the thick woods, heading straight to the mansion. If what he thought was true, the blame for all the massacres was his own alone.
His had always been a family of hunter, and one of them in particular was responsible of eliminating the most powerful and ferocious vampire, after an excruciating battle that had lasted for days long. Nothing was known of that fight, no details at all. Only obsolete methods that maybe could've hurt those creatures. He only knew that to kill them one would need to stab their heart, cut their head off and then burn their bodies, but… he had never faced one.
His thoughts were lost, his mind spinning like crazy, and slowly, just as the day before, the mansion appeared before his sight, threatening and gloomy as always, half-hidden and darkened to the eyes because of the darkness in which it stood.
He entered, gulping, his footsteps echoing into the enormous hall. He opened the lantern's shutter, also pulling out an handkerchief and approaching the center of the room, where the framed picture had been hung back to its place, on the wall to the right of the corridor.
The frame was stained with blood… Fresh blood.
He looked at it for a while, running his fingers on the surface, caressing its faces, thinking of what a beautiful family that could've been, when alive. Especially thinking of those poor kids, forced to such an horrible existence just because of that merciless vampire that had struck his ancestor to death.
Had he not concealed his true identity, taking the place of the brother of the woman that was portrayed in that picture, they would've never had to suffer that life that wasn't life, wandering into the night and hunting human preys to nourish themselves of their blood. But he didn't despise them for that. Only the monster that had created them.
And he would've tried to bring back peace to them, to those poor souls.
The Mayor took a deep breath, pouring the handkerchief into the lantern's oil, letting it catch fire. He threw it against the picture, that immediately caught fire, sizzling like a living being, and releasing a violet smoke, along with a sickening smell that quickly filled the mansion's air.
Stepping back, the man grabbed the gun and shot one bullet, watching his work fulfilling, convinced that that ritual would've concluded something.
It was an artifact, a relic that his ancestor couldn't burn in time after hunting down the vampire, and that now, probably, carried within the spirit full of rancor of that creature.
It wouldn't have been the first time…
In the past, known to him thanks to the diary that had been passed down between the males of his family, it was told that the spirits could haunt items dear to them. And from what he knew, that was the only painting in which he had been portrayed with his nephews and sister.
He was sure that would've managed to accomplish something. Maybe force them to come out. He really hoped so.
From above the mansion a low growl arouse at that sight. It was three shadows this time, each careful not to be noticed; they were looking at the scene in disappointment, almost in disgust, as the Mayor kept setting fire to various objects.
- Uncle… - Whispered a young voice, with an upset tone. - … He's burning it.
A cold hand rested on his shoulder.
- We can't do anything for now. - Replied a more mature voice.
A sort of pained moan filled the air.
- Let's kill him, Uncle. Let's kill that bastard.
- All in good time.
- Let's call the others and kill him. - He insisted.
- Don't rush. - He whispered feebly. - They would take too long to get here, anyway.
- But.. Uncle…
Another low growl made him fall quiet, coming from their right, where the third figure was clenching his fists, his vivacious blue eyes narrowed into thin slits. - He shouldn't have done that… - He snarled, showing his canins. - At all.
There was a tense, silent pause.
The other two shadows looked at him. One of them smiled, pleased.
- Looks like you finally made up your mind.
He was struck by a cold breeze of hatred.
- He burned the portrait. - His eyes stared at him with scorn. - His days were numbered already… now he just signed his sentence.
A low chuckle. The figure approached him, placing both hands on his shoulders, his blue lips very close to his ear.
- About time.
They were once again into the large rectangular room of the Abbey, both sitting and drinking some tea one of the novices had just prepared. The atmosphere was dense, palpable, the silence so clear it was possible to hear the creaking of the old wooden beams into the hallway.
The Mayor had stayed longer than needed, sending his son back to the village to keep an eye on the situation, and now, with his right hand slightly shaking, he was looking around nervously as if making sure nobody was there to overhear. He knew very well that something was wrong in that Church. Nobody could know better than him.
He took another sip from his teacup, before placing it on the table, under the careful and curious gaze of the priest, who couldn't understand the reason of such a great anxiety. The man of the church shifted into a more comfortable position, resting hands on his lap.
- You said you wanted to talk to me, Mr. Mayor. - He said.
The Mayor sighed, nodding slightly. He stood up, placing both hands on the mahogany table, staring at the priest with narrowed eyes.
- It's a story that dates back to a couple centuries ago, Father. - He said, turning his back at him. - When the land we live today was under the control of mystic creatures.
The priest moved two fingers to his lips, crossing legs nonchalantly. - I've read a couple books that mentioned this legend. - He replied, still skeptical, while rubbing his forehead and making an almost pained expression. It had been quite stressful days, but he imposed himself to keep listening to the Mayor and pretending to feel normal.
- It wasn't a legend at all, Father. - He heard him say, watching him shake his head. - You could see that vampires exist yourself. And they have been living here for many centuries.
- So, why are they coming out just now? - He asked, reaching out to pour in some more tea.
- The reason, unfortunately, is beyond my comprehension. - He said, sitting back down. - I can only tell you what my grandfather told my father, who then told myself.
For a couple seconds, they both were quiet. Then, calmly, the priest took a long sigh, looking at him in the face. - I'm all ears.
Gathering all his courage, the Mayor picked up his cup and took a long sip, then slowly blinked. - You see, once upon a time, all what we're now used to see and consider to be ours was in the hands of a powerful vampire. - He stopped to observe the startled expression on the priest's face. - It was a sort of… hunter to put an end to his existence, killing him after a bloody battle.
The priest nodded calmly, his forehead beaded with sweat. He took a long breath, sensing dizziness. - I don't see how this is related to… - He mumbled, but then held his head in his hands, hissing suddenly in pain.
Alarmed, the Mayor stood up, walking up to him. - Father, what's wrong? Are you sick? - He asked worriedly, but his voice reached the priest as the lapping noise of a waterfall. His temples were pulsing ferociously, as he bit his lower lip keeping his head low; his eyes were burning, and his stomach felt like to be twisting.
- W-what were you trying to do?
- I'm sorry… You're not used to this, forgive me.
Voices he had never heard before invaded his mind. He felt his abdominal muscles tightening into a grip, as if burning, and brought one arm to his stomach to try and ease a part of that pain.
- I'll go find someone to help! - He heard the deep and worried voice of the Mayor exclaim, and before this one could go too far, he grabbed his jacked, shaking his head weakly and looking up. His chocolate brown eyes were veiled by a thin layer of tears.
- I'm… I'm fine, Mr. Mayor. - He swallowed. - Just a passing… illness.
- Here, drink something Father. - The man reached out to grab the teapot and fill the priest's cup with a good amount of tea. - Take it.
Bowing his head to thank him, the man of the church took the cup with both hands, sipping slowly the liquid. He then put it back down, looking at the Mayor. - I'm feeling better now, thank you.
- Don't mention it, Father. - He sat back, glancing at him from time to time, apprehensively. That strange and sudden illness was worrying him. He had seen him in such a state only when he was but an eight-years-old; delirious of fever, he had screamed his father's name, as well as his mother's, that he had never met, even names of people he had never known before.
He saw the priest pursing his lips into a weak smile. - Please don't look at me like that, Mr. Mayor. I'm okay.
- I hope so.
A thunder tore the sky suddenly, making both jump on their chairs. Nervously, the Mayor jumped back on his feet. - I-I think I should go now, Father. I'm sorry. - He muttered in a rush, playing with his own hands, lowering his head to greet the priest and then rushing out of the room.
The latter, still a bit startled by the man's strange behavior, also stood up and exited into the corridor. The figure of the Mayor was quickly stepping away, his back getting smaller and smaller.
- Mr. Mayor! - Exclaimed the priest, trying to call him back. He didn't turn around, and kept walking until he exited into the patio, crossing it and rushing past the main garden, up to the main entrance.
Outside, everything was dark, and the first rumblings indicating the beginning of a new thunderstorm could be heard.
He had to move quickly. The situation was more desperate than he thought.
The Mayor walked down the small road leading to the village quickly, bursting into his house furiously and receiving a shocked exclamation from his son, in the room next to the entrance. Without giving further explanations, he rushed upstairs to his room, where he started to rummage obsessively into his desk's drawers, looking for something.
When he felt one hand placing over his shoulder, he gasped, and several papers and pens fell from his hand and onto the ground.
- Dad. - Murmured his son's voice, watching him sigh in relief. - Is everything all right?
The man moved one hand on his chest, breathing heavily. - It's all right, son. - He took a breath. - It's all right.
He found what he was looking for when he carefully looked into the drawer, and pulled out a small wooden box carved with fine details. His son looked over his shoulder, curiously.
- What do you want to do with that? - He asked, watching the shining blade of a knife. It was the knife that had once belonged to an ancestor, and that had always been conserved as a family treasure. Its handle was perfectly carved, wrapped into luxurious black silk and silvery watermark, with a small diamond embedded, and a thin sheath of smooth black leather; it shown absolutely no wrinkle nor scratches even though it was centuries old.
He had managed to see its blade only once, flat, of an almost crystal-like blue hue, and the two sharp edges converging into a keen tin slightly curved to the left. It was a true masterpiece.
- Nothing. - Whispered the Mayor, pulling out from the drawer also a silver pistol, and turning with a forced smile on his face. - Don't worry about it, Peb. - He patted his shoulder. - Where did you take those two young ones' corpses…?
Peb frowned, confused. - In the abandoned house that we use as a warehouse. - He replied, blinking a few times. - Why?
He watched his father setting the pistol into his belt, picking up a few strangely-shaped bullets. - Cut their heads and bury them as soon as possible.
Peb's eyes widened at those words, hoping that his father could be just messing with him. - Dad, you're creeping me out… Are you sure everything is okay?
- I tell you, I'm fine. - Said the man flat, walking back to the threshold, ignoring the concerned look on his son's face. Before he'd walk out of the room, he felt his hand on his shoulder again, and he turned to him with a sigh. - What is it now, Peb? - He murmured tiredly.
- Where are you going, dad? - The tone of his voice was almost afraid.
The Mayor smiled, seeing that worried frown so similar to the expression he had when he was but a child. Keeping him unaware of his origins had been the best decision he had ever made. - I'm only going to check the surroundings, don't worry.
- You can't go outside, dad! It's still night! - Exclaimed in shock. - Those monsters could..
- We're not safe in the daylight either, my son. - He interrupted him, watching him open his mouth in surprise.
- W-what are you saying!?
- Don't believe to everything you hear from the townsfolk, Peb… These people don't know what these creatures can do, trust me.
- Dad, you are really scaring me now. - He gulped, quietly. That whole story was driving him insane.
- I'm going. Take care of your wife and daughter. - He slowly blinked, settling the knife to his belt and hiding it under a cape along with the gun. - Don't allow them to get hurt.
He headed to the stairs, but he was blocked by his son again, who stepped before him. - I'm coming with you!
- Don't you dare, Peb. - He yelled at him, shoving him away. He started to trot down quickly, and went to a small desk to pick up an oil lantern, lighting it with a match. The flame immediately bursted, spreading light in the house.
- Damn it, dad, just wait! - His son had reached him, and was holding a gun in his hands, holding it out for him. The Mayor sighed, shaking his head. He had no clue on what could be out there, if he was planning to show up with something that pointless.
Shortly after, on the threshold appeared the figure of Peb's wife, holding a sleeping child in her hands. She stared at them curiously, without understanding the reason behind the two's tension.
- Where are you going at this late, Mr. Renford? - She asked in a whisper, trying to not wake up her daughter. The man smiled weakly at her, opening the door, ready to exit.
- I'll be back soon, don't worry. - He said calmly. - But if things were to turn out bad, you and your wife move out to Tavnazia, am I clear?
- Dad, what…?
- Am I clear!?
He lowered his gaze, barely nodding. - Please, take this with you! - He exclaimed, his head jerking back up to look at him with pleading eyes, motioning to the gun.
The Mayor didn't know what to say at that point. He shrugged and shook his head, exiting into the small yard. - That thing doesn't do anything to them. - He whispered, and then started running into the dark night with the lamp tight in his hand, not looking back at the small glimpse of light shedding on the small street. The knife and pistol he had in the belt bounced at every stride, his breathe growing more and more fatigued the more he ran without stopping. He entered the thick woods, heading straight to the mansion. If what he thought was true, the blame for all the massacres was his own alone.
His had always been a family of hunter, and one of them in particular was responsible of eliminating the most powerful and ferocious vampire, after an excruciating battle that had lasted for days long. Nothing was known of that fight, no details at all. Only obsolete methods that maybe could've hurt those creatures. He only knew that to kill them one would need to stab their heart, cut their head off and then burn their bodies, but… he had never faced one.
His thoughts were lost, his mind spinning like crazy, and slowly, just as the day before, the mansion appeared before his sight, threatening and gloomy as always, half-hidden and darkened to the eyes because of the darkness in which it stood.
He entered, gulping, his footsteps echoing into the enormous hall. He opened the lantern's shutter, also pulling out an handkerchief and approaching the center of the room, where the framed picture had been hung back to its place, on the wall to the right of the corridor.
The frame was stained with blood… Fresh blood.
He looked at it for a while, running his fingers on the surface, caressing its faces, thinking of what a beautiful family that could've been, when alive. Especially thinking of those poor kids, forced to such an horrible existence just because of that merciless vampire that had struck his ancestor to death.
Had he not concealed his true identity, taking the place of the brother of the woman that was portrayed in that picture, they would've never had to suffer that life that wasn't life, wandering into the night and hunting human preys to nourish themselves of their blood. But he didn't despise them for that. Only the monster that had created them.
And he would've tried to bring back peace to them, to those poor souls.
The Mayor took a deep breath, pouring the handkerchief into the lantern's oil, letting it catch fire. He threw it against the picture, that immediately caught fire, sizzling like a living being, and releasing a violet smoke, along with a sickening smell that quickly filled the mansion's air.
Stepping back, the man grabbed the gun and shot one bullet, watching his work fulfilling, convinced that that ritual would've concluded something.
It was an artifact, a relic that his ancestor couldn't burn in time after hunting down the vampire, and that now, probably, carried within the spirit full of rancor of that creature.
It wouldn't have been the first time…
In the past, known to him thanks to the diary that had been passed down between the males of his family, it was told that the spirits could haunt items dear to them. And from what he knew, that was the only painting in which he had been portrayed with his nephews and sister.
He was sure that would've managed to accomplish something. Maybe force them to come out. He really hoped so.
From above the mansion a low growl arouse at that sight. It was three shadows this time, each careful not to be noticed; they were looking at the scene in disappointment, almost in disgust, as the Mayor kept setting fire to various objects.
- Uncle… - Whispered a young voice, with an upset tone. - … He's burning it.
A cold hand rested on his shoulder.
- We can't do anything for now. - Replied a more mature voice.
A sort of pained moan filled the air.
- Let's kill him, Uncle. Let's kill that bastard.
- All in good time.
- Let's call the others and kill him. - He insisted.
- Don't rush. - He whispered feebly. - They would take too long to get here, anyway.
- But.. Uncle…
Another low growl made him fall quiet, coming from their right, where the third figure was clenching his fists, his vivacious blue eyes narrowed into thin slits. - He shouldn't have done that… - He snarled, showing his canins. - At all.
There was a tense, silent pause.
The other two shadows looked at him. One of them smiled, pleased.
- Looks like you finally made up your mind.
He was struck by a cold breeze of hatred.
- He burned the portrait. - His eyes stared at him with scorn. - His days were numbered already… now he just signed his sentence.
A low chuckle. The figure approached him, placing both hands on his shoulders, his blue lips very close to his ear.
- About time.
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
The Vampire's Kiss: Act VI - Face to Face
Not a single star was lighting the night sky in which roars and thunders were ruling like sparring savages, framing the valley into a gloomy, dense scenery. It had been but a few hours from the disappearance of that creature, and he had learned from his son that the bodies of the two youths had been carried into an abandoned house in town, now utilized as a mourning room.
Now, after he had rushed out of the Abbey, ran home to pick up his weapons and gone back to the mansion, the Mayor walked down the dark streets constantly glancing behind his back, checking the area with the lantern he had been nervously gripping on; he had an oppressing weight on his heart, that was making him struggle to even gulp.
He hadn't let his son to follow, forcing him to stay in town with his wife and six years-old daughter, intimidating that they wouldn't leave their home for no reason, unless things would've turned really bad. However, now that he was alone in the gloomy darkness, he almost felt to be regretting it. He could feel the excited whispers of the night surrounding him, the muttering and rustling that plants and leaves created between his steps and moved by the breeze.
He reached out, so that the lamp could lit the path he was walking in, and slowly moved down the steep road between juniper bushes, almost completely dried out by the cold that had once again taken over the countryside. Distractedly, he moved one hand to touch a scar on his cheek, a wound that he had received when hunting a werewolf when he was young. Every time he had a bad feeling, the scar started to burn and hurt just as when it was a fresh cut, even though it had been years since that day.
He moved his hand running it through his hair, looking around frantically. Had he survived that hunt, he promised himself to do something about the priest too. He wasn't sure what but, had it been necessary, he would've had to kill him too… unfortunately.
His steps stuttered at that thought, and he gulped. How could he even think about killing his adoptive son? How could he have let his son Peb deal with the issue, had things gone for the worst?
He couldn't allow that. Turning slightly he moved the lantern to lit the direction from which he had heard a clearer rustle but, between the shadows, he couldn't see anything. Only small bushes growing around him. He turned to stare back ahead and walk again, wiping the cold sweat beading his forehead from time to time, as the blowing wind kept making him shiver along the path.
He squeezed into his cape, wandering into the woods, his lantern high to show him the way to the village. He was not too far from it when he saw him.
Standing there, smiling, his red spiky hair slightly swaying in the wind, the creature responsible of his villagers' deaths was right in front of him. His shiny canines were showing into a grin, his tongue running over his lower lip from time to time, as if foretasting the moment in which he'd sink his teeth into the flesh of his neck. And taste his flavor.
The Mayor took a step back, bringing one hand to his belt to grab the pistol, ready to fight, aware of what could've happened to him. His father, since when he was but a child, had always explained that even though they had never walked into one of them, those beings possessed dark powers to watch out for, such as charming their victims with their gaze..
The vampire. A charming creature that could fluster and lead its prey into perdition. He had never believed in them but now, finding himself face-to-face with one of them, seeing his image mirrored into his blue-gray irids, he couldn't refuse to firmly believe to everything he had always denied in his youth.
He had only the gun with himself, the gun that a far ancestor of his had crafted out of the fused metal coming from a blessed silver emblem of the Goddes, and the knife; but he wasn't relying on being able to get close enough to him. He had never hunted a vampire, and had no idea about their strength. He was young, but he was well aware that the age he was showing was mere appearance. He gulped again, pointing his gun at him and shooting.
The creature easily dodged the bullet with a graced jump backwards, and next to him another creature appeared; a taller and more threatening one, with an older look. The long chestnut bangs had grown longer than how they were in the picture, now gently resting on the front of his shoulders, framing a pale face with blue, lifeless lips, pursed into a sadistic smile.
A breeze crossed the small clearing and the long loose ponytail moved to the front of his right shoulder, that he moved away nonchalantly. He then slowly advanced, nodding to the younger vampire to follow him, while the Mayor's eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth, horrified, pointing his gun towards the vampire as the light lit his face.
- It… It can't be… - He stuttered, his hands shaking. - My… my ancestor had…
- … Gotten rid of me? - Finished the man, amused, barely staggering backwards when the gunshot echoed into the air. The vampire looked at the hole in his arm without interest, and a low chuckle arouse from his chest, making the Mayor jump in shock, as he looked at his pistol suddenly melting in his hands.
He backed away, moving one hand on the knife.
- You should save your silver bullets for the werewolves, Mayor. It's not that easy to kill me. - The vampire moved his index finger left and right, cleaning distractedly his shirt from the gunpowder. - Although I must admit that your ancestor had gotten very close. So close, I had to wait all this time to get my revenge. - He added thoughtfully, scratching his chin. - But as you can see, even though it took me longer than expected to recover, I'm still here, roaming in these lands. My lands.
The younger of the two laughed, bending his body into an attacking stance, and the Mayor moved one arm to cover his own face, ready to stab his chest with the knife in the hand. But just as if he could read his mind, the older stopped the boy with one hand on the shoulder, shaking his head before looking at the Mayor.
- It is not my nephew that you should fear, Mayor. - He whispered with a mockingly polite tone. - It's me that you must dread, Mr. Renford. - He pursed his lips into a smile. - Or should I say… Jin-Sei-Ahhad?
The Mayor felt invaded by an oppressing terror. He backed away, gulping. All he had now was that knife.. Without something that could really be useful at the moment, even him wasn't an hunter. He was a normal human being, like everybody else.
- Are you… looking for revenge? - He dared to ask, slowly getting a distance from the vampires. - Is that what you want… Aaron S Idavoll?
The vampire kept smiling, looking distractedly at his right hand before staring into the distance. - Your family really thought a simple name change could make it so that I wouldn't find you? - He chuckled, moving hair from his face again. - You can run as far as you want, but I'm a rather good hunter… When I follow a track, I don't let it get away easily.
A rustle in the fronds; the Mayor looked up. Perched on a branch was another vampire, staring down at him with the most vivacious blue eyes he had ever seen; but he didn't look like to be willing to join the feast of which the Mayor was likely going to serve as main dish.
He heard the younger one chuckling, and pointed his attention back at the two vampires. He was surrounded, there was no way to run. He would've never managed to kill them by himself, even running with all his strength, they would've caught up to him. What to do? Call for help? No, he would've only endangered other people. There was just nothing to do for him. He had no chance to survive.
All he could do was await the end. But he wouldn't have left this world by himself. He was going to get some wounds on those monsters, if nothing else. Then why wasn't he moving? What did his body feel completely paralyzed? His mind emptied, and he closed his eyes, surrendering.
- If it's just that, then… - He murmured with a voice that wasn't his, as his hands let the lantern drop. The flame died, and his arms fell numb to his sides. He heard the laughter of the two vampires and the strange snort of the one hidden on the tree, without really understand what could be so funny about that situation.
He was about to die, no?
- Well, well, Mayor. - He heard the older one, sensing his presence but one inch from his face. - I didn't think your life could be this worthless. You won't even try to run? Chasing our prey makes us even hungrier, you know that?
He squinted his eyes forcefully, biting his lower lip. He didn't want to play those monsters' games. Let it end. And quick.
Why was he thinking such things?
- I want to finish him. - The red-haired's voice sounded amused. Tremendously amused.
The Mayor didn't move, even though his brain was desperately trying to get him to move his limps, to back away, to run. It was as if his body was bound, tied by some invisible chains that he couldn't see. He couldn't even open his eyes.
The older vampire's growl filled the air, even though the younger one couldn't realize it, as focused as he was on his prey.
- Come on, will you entertain us a bit? - Asked the red-haired creature, ready to strike again. But once again he was stopped by his uncle, who looked up with disappointment, growling at the figure perched on the branch.
- Stop it, now. - He said flat, almost angrily.
The red-haired vampire stared at him, curious and also surprised. Then he looked up at the one sitting on the tree, snarling himself. - You're doing it again, aren't you? - He hissed, showing his fangs.
The Mayor didn't understand what they were talking about, but he realized he had almost regained control of himself. He slowly opened one eye. The face of the vampire was very close to his: he couldn't hear his breathing, but he could firmly hear the growl at the bottom of his throat. They weren't looking at him, but at the other vampire on the tree.
His eyes fell on the glass of the lantern that had shattered to the ground, and his hand, still gripping on the knife's handle, started to itch slightly, as if trying to remind him of his weapon. If he had to die, he could've at least tried to kill one of them.
He tried to not let the monsters smell his insane idea, as focused as they were on staring at their companion. That was the momentum. With a sneaky move, before Aaron could realize it, he slid the knife out of its sheath, stabbing it violently on his chest, feeling the vampire's ribs cracking.
Wrong aim, damn it!
No second chance, at that point. The vampire looked away from the tree and down at him, then he removed the knife with no effort from his chest, as if nothing had happened, and let the blade fall to the ground, barely stained with blood.
- Mayor, Mayor.. - He chuckled, studying him. - I don't like clichés, but I'll repeat myself: It's not that easy to kill me.
Jin-Sei-Ahhad backed away, and fell, staring up at him. His expression was shocked, unable to believe in what was happening.
- Your offspring will be exterminated, Mayor. - A whisper. Evil and sarcastic.
- Leave him to me, Uncle. You are wounded. - Insisted the red-haired vampire, approaching before kneeling next to the Mayor. - I want to taste his essence.
But he stopped him. - Wait. - He looked back up at the other boy. - Since you had so much fun subjugating him… do you want to be the one to finish him?
The other shook his head, just watching, and the other vampire grinned, licking his lips. Before he could realize it, before he could even run or retrieve his weapon, Jin-Sei-Ahhad felt a sharp pain to his neck, feeling completely sucked away, his very essence abandoning him.
He had been a fool. A real fool.
An hunter such as himself, going out at late night without even proper equipment. He only hoped that his son could find that diary that he had never gotten the chance to finish reading, containing all the secrets of vampires and the other creatures roaming in the darkest hours of night. He was strong, he would've handled it.
His only regret was to not have explained him the true existence of their family and the reason behind that fake last name. But more than anything, of the real origins of the priest.
He started to shake frantically, trying with both hands to push that monster away, but everything around him grew darker and darker, and blurred. He ragdolled to the ground, left with no strength, his arms numb to the ground, letting out a feeble breath, and then bending his head backwards, his eyes closed. He stopped making any noise.
- Give him a break, he is outta blood. - Said the vampire on the branch, looking at the other creature still feeding off of the Mayor.
The red-haired turned slightly to glare daggers at him. - Mind your own business you. You can't even enjoy yourself when hunting. - He hissed back, annoyed.
The other vampire didn't blink, and snorted. - Just because I'm not a barbaric like yourself. - He said, looking distractedly at his hand.
The red-haired one hissed like a cat. - You subjugate your preys and then refuse to finish them, as if waiting for who knows what… I don't get you, brother. - He went back at looking at the still figure of the Mayor, then he pulled away, licking his lips still shining with blood and standing back up.
- I'm a civilized monster. - Said the blue-eyed vampire, ironic and chuckling before hopping off the tree, walking next to his brother.
All he gained was a disgusted glare. - A monster that will nourish himself only once in a while, like a fool. - He snarled, putting his face a few inches from his brother's. - And from the victims he will amuse himself with, too.
- My business, remember that.
- You're disgusting.
- Nobody asked you to watch. - He replied with scorn, feeling an heavy weight twisting his stomach.
- It's not my fault if their blood's smell is so strong. Just get a hold of yourself.
The chestnut-haired vampire snarled, the air surrounding him getting of a freezing cold. The dead leaves surrounding him started to fly around in a windmill, dancing savagely in the breeze raised by his aura. - I'll do as I please when I please, am I clear!? - He roared.
His brother didn't back away, not intimidated at all. - Don't you dare using that tone with me!
- Stop fighting you two. There is no reason to be in conflict. - Aaron interrupted them, walking between the two, still staring at each other angrily. - We moved a big step forward, today. We should be proud.
The two looked at him, and the chestnut-haired one barely snarled, staring askance at him. - What we're doing is pointless. - He said, and the sound of a slap broke the silence of the night.
- Never dare say such a blasphemy again. - Said Aaron, calmly. - I'm still your uncle.
The young one moved one hand to the injured spot, glaring up at him. His eyes were well showing his emotions, at that moment. - You never were an exemplary relative, bloodsucker. - He hissed, receiving another slap.
His brother backed away, looking from a distance. He knew all too well it was not the case to jump in.
- Show some respect. - Said Aaron, bending down to look at his face. - You best remember that I did not like your attitude, in the past. - He whispered very lowly into his ear, freezing the atmosphere. - I have been forced to do what I did, three-hundred years ago; he had become an obstacle to your transition.
The young vampire's canines started pulsing with rage. He felt the insane desire to sink them into the neck before his eyes. - Don't talk about him in front of Kirious. - He whispered back, lowering his gaze. - He doesn't know about this.
- Then you'd best do your job, instead of chasing that person. - He placed one hand on his shoulder, with a mocking smile. - You know very well he's not him, and stubbornly trying to get what you want would only be a waste of energies.
The blue-eyed vampire looked at his face, showing audacity. Something not difficult, for someone who had seen Hell as he had.
- If you want my help my conditions are these, Uncle. - He said flat, without looking away from those hazel-green eyes, so similar to his mother's. - I want what was once mine, and that you wrongly took away from me.
Aaron stared at him for a bit, then his blue lips pursed into a smile. - You can't blackmail me, you know it.
A feeble chuckle escaped the young vampire. - I am the one hunting for you, Uncle. Remember that. - He murmured, as if trying to not be heard by his brother, staring at them a few yalms away. - Your wound is still slow on its recover, or am I wrong? Without me, you wouldn't live long enough to see your revenge fulfilled.
He felt his collar grabbed and jerked.
- You'd best try not to get too cocky. - The voice was deadpan. The sky filled with clouds, readying to rain. The young vampire tried to say something, but the trees surrounding him bended ominously, as if intimating to not say anything more.
He immediately understood what was going on, and he bowed his head in respect. - I understand, Uncle. - He said, surrendering.
Although weak, as of now he had no chances to face him and survive. He noticed his brother out of the corner of the eye, glancing at the still body of the Mayor every now and then, chuckling by himself, often licking his lips.
Kirious felt his uncle's hand on his shoulder, and smiled, looking up at him. - We're going to the village now… right? - He asked, hopeful.
He watched him shaking his head, amused. The young one sulked, then he sighed before following his uncle without waiting the other vampire; he was already about to fade in the thickness of the woods.
He looked between the fronds, letting a low growl out.
- Whenever you feel like returning, you know where to find us, Kenjii.
Not a single star was lighting the night sky in which roars and thunders were ruling like sparring savages, framing the valley into a gloomy, dense scenery. It had been but a few hours from the disappearance of that creature, and he had learned from his son that the bodies of the two youths had been carried into an abandoned house in town, now utilized as a mourning room.
Now, after he had rushed out of the Abbey, ran home to pick up his weapons and gone back to the mansion, the Mayor walked down the dark streets constantly glancing behind his back, checking the area with the lantern he had been nervously gripping on; he had an oppressing weight on his heart, that was making him struggle to even gulp.
He hadn't let his son to follow, forcing him to stay in town with his wife and six years-old daughter, intimidating that they wouldn't leave their home for no reason, unless things would've turned really bad. However, now that he was alone in the gloomy darkness, he almost felt to be regretting it. He could feel the excited whispers of the night surrounding him, the muttering and rustling that plants and leaves created between his steps and moved by the breeze.
He reached out, so that the lamp could lit the path he was walking in, and slowly moved down the steep road between juniper bushes, almost completely dried out by the cold that had once again taken over the countryside. Distractedly, he moved one hand to touch a scar on his cheek, a wound that he had received when hunting a werewolf when he was young. Every time he had a bad feeling, the scar started to burn and hurt just as when it was a fresh cut, even though it had been years since that day.
He moved his hand running it through his hair, looking around frantically. Had he survived that hunt, he promised himself to do something about the priest too. He wasn't sure what but, had it been necessary, he would've had to kill him too… unfortunately.
His steps stuttered at that thought, and he gulped. How could he even think about killing his adoptive son? How could he have let his son Peb deal with the issue, had things gone for the worst?
He couldn't allow that. Turning slightly he moved the lantern to lit the direction from which he had heard a clearer rustle but, between the shadows, he couldn't see anything. Only small bushes growing around him. He turned to stare back ahead and walk again, wiping the cold sweat beading his forehead from time to time, as the blowing wind kept making him shiver along the path.
He squeezed into his cape, wandering into the woods, his lantern high to show him the way to the village. He was not too far from it when he saw him.
Standing there, smiling, his red spiky hair slightly swaying in the wind, the creature responsible of his villagers' deaths was right in front of him. His shiny canines were showing into a grin, his tongue running over his lower lip from time to time, as if foretasting the moment in which he'd sink his teeth into the flesh of his neck. And taste his flavor.
The Mayor took a step back, bringing one hand to his belt to grab the pistol, ready to fight, aware of what could've happened to him. His father, since when he was but a child, had always explained that even though they had never walked into one of them, those beings possessed dark powers to watch out for, such as charming their victims with their gaze..
The vampire. A charming creature that could fluster and lead its prey into perdition. He had never believed in them but now, finding himself face-to-face with one of them, seeing his image mirrored into his blue-gray irids, he couldn't refuse to firmly believe to everything he had always denied in his youth.
He had only the gun with himself, the gun that a far ancestor of his had crafted out of the fused metal coming from a blessed silver emblem of the Goddes, and the knife; but he wasn't relying on being able to get close enough to him. He had never hunted a vampire, and had no idea about their strength. He was young, but he was well aware that the age he was showing was mere appearance. He gulped again, pointing his gun at him and shooting.
The creature easily dodged the bullet with a graced jump backwards, and next to him another creature appeared; a taller and more threatening one, with an older look. The long chestnut bangs had grown longer than how they were in the picture, now gently resting on the front of his shoulders, framing a pale face with blue, lifeless lips, pursed into a sadistic smile.
A breeze crossed the small clearing and the long loose ponytail moved to the front of his right shoulder, that he moved away nonchalantly. He then slowly advanced, nodding to the younger vampire to follow him, while the Mayor's eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth, horrified, pointing his gun towards the vampire as the light lit his face.
- It… It can't be… - He stuttered, his hands shaking. - My… my ancestor had…
- … Gotten rid of me? - Finished the man, amused, barely staggering backwards when the gunshot echoed into the air. The vampire looked at the hole in his arm without interest, and a low chuckle arouse from his chest, making the Mayor jump in shock, as he looked at his pistol suddenly melting in his hands.
He backed away, moving one hand on the knife.
- You should save your silver bullets for the werewolves, Mayor. It's not that easy to kill me. - The vampire moved his index finger left and right, cleaning distractedly his shirt from the gunpowder. - Although I must admit that your ancestor had gotten very close. So close, I had to wait all this time to get my revenge. - He added thoughtfully, scratching his chin. - But as you can see, even though it took me longer than expected to recover, I'm still here, roaming in these lands. My lands.
The younger of the two laughed, bending his body into an attacking stance, and the Mayor moved one arm to cover his own face, ready to stab his chest with the knife in the hand. But just as if he could read his mind, the older stopped the boy with one hand on the shoulder, shaking his head before looking at the Mayor.
- It is not my nephew that you should fear, Mayor. - He whispered with a mockingly polite tone. - It's me that you must dread, Mr. Renford. - He pursed his lips into a smile. - Or should I say… Jin-Sei-Ahhad?
The Mayor felt invaded by an oppressing terror. He backed away, gulping. All he had now was that knife.. Without something that could really be useful at the moment, even him wasn't an hunter. He was a normal human being, like everybody else.
- Are you… looking for revenge? - He dared to ask, slowly getting a distance from the vampires. - Is that what you want… Aaron S Idavoll?
The vampire kept smiling, looking distractedly at his right hand before staring into the distance. - Your family really thought a simple name change could make it so that I wouldn't find you? - He chuckled, moving hair from his face again. - You can run as far as you want, but I'm a rather good hunter… When I follow a track, I don't let it get away easily.
A rustle in the fronds; the Mayor looked up. Perched on a branch was another vampire, staring down at him with the most vivacious blue eyes he had ever seen; but he didn't look like to be willing to join the feast of which the Mayor was likely going to serve as main dish.
He heard the younger one chuckling, and pointed his attention back at the two vampires. He was surrounded, there was no way to run. He would've never managed to kill them by himself, even running with all his strength, they would've caught up to him. What to do? Call for help? No, he would've only endangered other people. There was just nothing to do for him. He had no chance to survive.
All he could do was await the end. But he wouldn't have left this world by himself. He was going to get some wounds on those monsters, if nothing else. Then why wasn't he moving? What did his body feel completely paralyzed? His mind emptied, and he closed his eyes, surrendering.
- If it's just that, then… - He murmured with a voice that wasn't his, as his hands let the lantern drop. The flame died, and his arms fell numb to his sides. He heard the laughter of the two vampires and the strange snort of the one hidden on the tree, without really understand what could be so funny about that situation.
He was about to die, no?
- Well, well, Mayor. - He heard the older one, sensing his presence but one inch from his face. - I didn't think your life could be this worthless. You won't even try to run? Chasing our prey makes us even hungrier, you know that?
He squinted his eyes forcefully, biting his lower lip. He didn't want to play those monsters' games. Let it end. And quick.
Why was he thinking such things?
- I want to finish him. - The red-haired's voice sounded amused. Tremendously amused.
The Mayor didn't move, even though his brain was desperately trying to get him to move his limps, to back away, to run. It was as if his body was bound, tied by some invisible chains that he couldn't see. He couldn't even open his eyes.
The older vampire's growl filled the air, even though the younger one couldn't realize it, as focused as he was on his prey.
- Come on, will you entertain us a bit? - Asked the red-haired creature, ready to strike again. But once again he was stopped by his uncle, who looked up with disappointment, growling at the figure perched on the branch.
- Stop it, now. - He said flat, almost angrily.
The red-haired vampire stared at him, curious and also surprised. Then he looked up at the one sitting on the tree, snarling himself. - You're doing it again, aren't you? - He hissed, showing his fangs.
The Mayor didn't understand what they were talking about, but he realized he had almost regained control of himself. He slowly opened one eye. The face of the vampire was very close to his: he couldn't hear his breathing, but he could firmly hear the growl at the bottom of his throat. They weren't looking at him, but at the other vampire on the tree.
His eyes fell on the glass of the lantern that had shattered to the ground, and his hand, still gripping on the knife's handle, started to itch slightly, as if trying to remind him of his weapon. If he had to die, he could've at least tried to kill one of them.
He tried to not let the monsters smell his insane idea, as focused as they were on staring at their companion. That was the momentum. With a sneaky move, before Aaron could realize it, he slid the knife out of its sheath, stabbing it violently on his chest, feeling the vampire's ribs cracking.
Wrong aim, damn it!
No second chance, at that point. The vampire looked away from the tree and down at him, then he removed the knife with no effort from his chest, as if nothing had happened, and let the blade fall to the ground, barely stained with blood.
- Mayor, Mayor.. - He chuckled, studying him. - I don't like clichés, but I'll repeat myself: It's not that easy to kill me.
Jin-Sei-Ahhad backed away, and fell, staring up at him. His expression was shocked, unable to believe in what was happening.
- Your offspring will be exterminated, Mayor. - A whisper. Evil and sarcastic.
- Leave him to me, Uncle. You are wounded. - Insisted the red-haired vampire, approaching before kneeling next to the Mayor. - I want to taste his essence.
But he stopped him. - Wait. - He looked back up at the other boy. - Since you had so much fun subjugating him… do you want to be the one to finish him?
The other shook his head, just watching, and the other vampire grinned, licking his lips. Before he could realize it, before he could even run or retrieve his weapon, Jin-Sei-Ahhad felt a sharp pain to his neck, feeling completely sucked away, his very essence abandoning him.
He had been a fool. A real fool.
An hunter such as himself, going out at late night without even proper equipment. He only hoped that his son could find that diary that he had never gotten the chance to finish reading, containing all the secrets of vampires and the other creatures roaming in the darkest hours of night. He was strong, he would've handled it.
His only regret was to not have explained him the true existence of their family and the reason behind that fake last name. But more than anything, of the real origins of the priest.
He started to shake frantically, trying with both hands to push that monster away, but everything around him grew darker and darker, and blurred. He ragdolled to the ground, left with no strength, his arms numb to the ground, letting out a feeble breath, and then bending his head backwards, his eyes closed. He stopped making any noise.
- Give him a break, he is outta blood. - Said the vampire on the branch, looking at the other creature still feeding off of the Mayor.
The red-haired turned slightly to glare daggers at him. - Mind your own business you. You can't even enjoy yourself when hunting. - He hissed back, annoyed.
The other vampire didn't blink, and snorted. - Just because I'm not a barbaric like yourself. - He said, looking distractedly at his hand.
The red-haired one hissed like a cat. - You subjugate your preys and then refuse to finish them, as if waiting for who knows what… I don't get you, brother. - He went back at looking at the still figure of the Mayor, then he pulled away, licking his lips still shining with blood and standing back up.
- I'm a civilized monster. - Said the blue-eyed vampire, ironic and chuckling before hopping off the tree, walking next to his brother.
All he gained was a disgusted glare. - A monster that will nourish himself only once in a while, like a fool. - He snarled, putting his face a few inches from his brother's. - And from the victims he will amuse himself with, too.
- My business, remember that.
- You're disgusting.
- Nobody asked you to watch. - He replied with scorn, feeling an heavy weight twisting his stomach.
- It's not my fault if their blood's smell is so strong. Just get a hold of yourself.
The chestnut-haired vampire snarled, the air surrounding him getting of a freezing cold. The dead leaves surrounding him started to fly around in a windmill, dancing savagely in the breeze raised by his aura. - I'll do as I please when I please, am I clear!? - He roared.
His brother didn't back away, not intimidated at all. - Don't you dare using that tone with me!
- Stop fighting you two. There is no reason to be in conflict. - Aaron interrupted them, walking between the two, still staring at each other angrily. - We moved a big step forward, today. We should be proud.
The two looked at him, and the chestnut-haired one barely snarled, staring askance at him. - What we're doing is pointless. - He said, and the sound of a slap broke the silence of the night.
- Never dare say such a blasphemy again. - Said Aaron, calmly. - I'm still your uncle.
The young one moved one hand to the injured spot, glaring up at him. His eyes were well showing his emotions, at that moment. - You never were an exemplary relative, bloodsucker. - He hissed, receiving another slap.
His brother backed away, looking from a distance. He knew all too well it was not the case to jump in.
- Show some respect. - Said Aaron, bending down to look at his face. - You best remember that I did not like your attitude, in the past. - He whispered very lowly into his ear, freezing the atmosphere. - I have been forced to do what I did, three-hundred years ago; he had become an obstacle to your transition.
The young vampire's canines started pulsing with rage. He felt the insane desire to sink them into the neck before his eyes. - Don't talk about him in front of Kirious. - He whispered back, lowering his gaze. - He doesn't know about this.
- Then you'd best do your job, instead of chasing that person. - He placed one hand on his shoulder, with a mocking smile. - You know very well he's not him, and stubbornly trying to get what you want would only be a waste of energies.
The blue-eyed vampire looked at his face, showing audacity. Something not difficult, for someone who had seen Hell as he had.
- If you want my help my conditions are these, Uncle. - He said flat, without looking away from those hazel-green eyes, so similar to his mother's. - I want what was once mine, and that you wrongly took away from me.
Aaron stared at him for a bit, then his blue lips pursed into a smile. - You can't blackmail me, you know it.
A feeble chuckle escaped the young vampire. - I am the one hunting for you, Uncle. Remember that. - He murmured, as if trying to not be heard by his brother, staring at them a few yalms away. - Your wound is still slow on its recover, or am I wrong? Without me, you wouldn't live long enough to see your revenge fulfilled.
He felt his collar grabbed and jerked.
- You'd best try not to get too cocky. - The voice was deadpan. The sky filled with clouds, readying to rain. The young vampire tried to say something, but the trees surrounding him bended ominously, as if intimating to not say anything more.
He immediately understood what was going on, and he bowed his head in respect. - I understand, Uncle. - He said, surrendering.
Although weak, as of now he had no chances to face him and survive. He noticed his brother out of the corner of the eye, glancing at the still body of the Mayor every now and then, chuckling by himself, often licking his lips.
Kirious felt his uncle's hand on his shoulder, and smiled, looking up at him. - We're going to the village now… right? - He asked, hopeful.
He watched him shaking his head, amused. The young one sulked, then he sighed before following his uncle without waiting the other vampire; he was already about to fade in the thickness of the woods.
He looked between the fronds, letting a low growl out.
- Whenever you feel like returning, you know where to find us, Kenjii.
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
The Vampire's Kiss: Act VII - Reflections That Won't Reflect
The funeral has just come to an end.
The people slowly exited the chapel, suffocating sobs into their handkerchiefs, watching the Mayor's coffin pass by. His son was on the front of the small procession, his washed-out blue eyes swollen with tears, but keeping a detached demeanor as he stared ahead. That's how his father would've wanted him to be. He wouldn't have wished to see him despair like a little girl, all-fours to the ground, unable to do anything but cry. He had been educated to become a strong man.
His father had been strict, but good. A man who had always cared about others. A man who had taught him about life and that lost his own in that worthless, horrible way. The pain Peb Renford was feeling right there was stronger than anyone could guess. A pain that he wouldn't have let come out, now that he was in charge of the small town and his family. Strong and determined. That's how his father had taught him to be. And that's how he'd try to look, as soil was thrown over the coffin hosting John Renford's eternal rest.
The flowers, the hymns, the commemoration, everything seemed to have gone in a flash, and as he thought back of his childhood beside his father, everything had ended before he could even realize it.
He stood to contemplate the grave for the longest time, lost in his thoughts. Condolences had reached his ears as undecipherable muttering over the rain that had been endlessly falling over their heads. He didn't really know how many hours had passed, but at some point he felt one hand resting over his shoulder, and he turned to stare into the gold-streaked eyes of the priest, looking at him. He smiled weakly at him, before looking back at the grave.
- I think it is time you go back home, Peb. - Said the priest. His voice was thin and muffled. Sympathetic.
- Yes. I think I should, Mirror. - He whispered, lowering his head. - I need some time.. to recover.
The priest ran one arm behind his shoulders, leading him across the graveyard on the back of the Abbey, dominated by the tall, majestic bell tower. As they crossed the courtyard he opened the heavy door to walk through the side nave where the lit lanterns were feebly lighting the path, and they walked into the clerics entering the Church's chorus for one of the masses, their hands clasped and their heads low, silent and disciplined. They walked through the galleries of the cloister with the vaulted ceiling until they reached the main building, exiting the main door.
The cold had intensified in that brief meantime, and rain had subsided to small white snowflakes, falling slowly around them.
- Shall I take you home, Peb? - Asked the priest, glancing at his friend and then at the village ahead.
- There's no need to, Father. Don't worry. - He replied, formal again, as he started to walk away with a quick step.
- Peb, wait. - He ran after him and put one hand on his shoulder. - If you need anything, just call me, okay?
Peb sighed, and looked at him. - Really, Mirror… I don't need anything. - His voice's tone was cracking. - I just want to be alone with my family for a while.
The priest contemplated the sadness into the blue irids, and lowered his gaze. - I'm as pained as you are for your father's death; he was like a father to me as well, but.. just let me help you handle this situation.
- Help me? And what can you do, to help me? - He asked, shoving away any formality. - Can you maybe make those monsters disappear? Can you perhaps bring my father back? You can't do neither of these things, so let me do my job as a Mayor now, and mind your own business! - He exclaimed, letting the pain he had built inside him take over.
The priest took a step back, blinking perplexedly. - Peb, listen… - He tried to say.
But Peb intimated silence, raising one hand and looking away. - No, Mirror. Things have started to go wrong in this village since when you became a full-fledged priest. - He took a deep breath. - Everything was almost normal at first, but then the strange winters occurred, and now this. It's almost like you are what made these vampires come here.
- Just what…
- Good day, Father. - He whirled around and walked down the path to the village with long strides, leaving the priest staring at him in shock.
Did he really think it was his fault? How could he? Sighing, the priest went back to his Abbey, and was welcomed by the songs that the clerics had been tuning since before dinner. They finished almost immediately, and he watched the clerics leave the chorus to head to the eatery, where the friar cook had surely prepared a meal for them. He walked past them, getting a few greetings, and exited into the garden, seeking shelter next to the great Goddess's statue situated in the center, sitting on the rock beneath it, burying his face into his hands.
He wanted to be alone.
It wasn't easy for him; he had dedicated himself completely into serving Altana, and to think that in such a short time the same Goddess he had been so devoted to had allowed such horrible things to happen to all those innocents. Once again, he found himself thinking what would've happened if, rather than becoming a novice when he was but ten, giving up to all the amusements and plays allowed to any other child, he had married just as his friend had, experiencing what Peb … those few times they had a chance to speak freely… had called pleasure. Often times, during the first period of his novitiate, when he was but eighteen, he'd sneak out of the Church's dorms and go see Peb into his house; his friend would speak excitedly with the other boys attending, trying to make him join the conversation. And almost always, someone would let out topics about sex, and he'd bow his head, excuse himself and leaving, even though a part of him was tempted to stay and listen.
Such thoughts should've never crossed the mind of a man of the church. What kind of priest was he? Luckily, as time passed, he had grown conscious of the situation. Chastity. Nothing else.
Sighing, he rested his head against the statue, looking at the night sky, the snow still falling and painting of white the environment surrounding him, and himself too. He shook some of it off his hair, and just stared into the sky with melancholy, as if awaiting a sign.
He then distractedly glanced to the few trees next to the building, seeing the fronds barely moved by a weak breeze, that reached him to play with his hair.
- Why do you test us like this, Altana? - He whispered, talking to the wind. The great scheme of the Goddess was beyond his reach, just as her actions. And as others before, even a priest just as himself couldn't be as arrogant as to try and understand it. He sighed one last time, before walking through the garden again and past statues, bushes, and roses stubbornly fighting the frost.
The flowers' smell was blending into the air, almost muffled, along with humidity and the stingy smell of soil and grass. Those small moments of quietness were pleasant, after all. He walked where a few small torches were lit, illuminating the area more than the surrounding zone, hardly covered by the almost-full moonlight, showing him the few trees nearby and the warehouse to the right.
He stopped by the fountain, staring into it, with only the whispers of night surrounding him. The water was as still as a mirror and reflected the rather feminine face of a brown-haired boy with gold-streaked eyes, perfectly visible thanks to the hair tied into a braid and the well-cured bangs framing the delicate, neat traits of his cheekbones. The priest looked more closely, blinking, and the boy blinked as well.
He frowned. Was that really him? How could it be? He had seen his own reflection into the glasses of the Abbey many times of late, often staring at his image longer than needed, almost sinning of vanity, and he had never seen that face.
Yet the boy he was seeing now was almost identical. Completely, if not for the strange tattoos on his cheeks and the younger face. He placed hands on the fountain's edge, leaning forward even more.
He frowned, and as before, his reflection imitated him.
He made a face, and that was copied as well.
What was he doing? He let out a sigh, still staring at the image. He looked intensely at it for a few seconds until, without him changing his expression at all, it pursed its lips into a grin, showing two sharp, white canines.
His head started to suddenly hurt as the night before, as his mind started to show him a quick sequence of images and words he couldn't understand.
- I can't make you feel these emotions… we shouldn't even be together.
- That's why I never asked. I don't want you to get jailed or condemned.
- But I love you, that's all what matters.
Stone streets, luxurious mansions and castles, rich satin clothes, curtains and blankets made of expensive silk of a thousand colors, faces he had never seen…
- I hate this lifestyle, you should know better than anyone.
- Your uncle would scold you, if he heard that. And, he wouldn't want you to be here.
- I don't give a damn about that old man at all.
- He's still your uncle; treat him with respect.
More confused images with quotes and words, places he had never seen, smells he had never known…
- After Mother's death he became even stranger than before.. It's as if he were constantly looking behind his back.
- Hahah, you think he's growing paranoid?
- Who knows… But he's really weird.
- Weird? Now, now.. I thought all you people from Bastok were like that.
- Hmph. My uncle, as you can see, is an exception! But don't go around saying we're from there… You know how people are, no?
- Sorry, you're right.
Nostalgia, anxiety, fear, joy for something he couldn't explain were taking over his heart bit by bit, as faded faces tried to rise from his memory, paining his head dreadfully.
- Why are you here in Tavnazia, anyway? I thought you were in Grauberg, in your summer estate. Didn't you say that's where you were practicing your lessons?
- Actually.. I should've been on the way to Windurst…
- Windurst!? So far away?
- Yeah.. My uncle wanted to go back to his estate to restore his Landlord title.
- So… we'll.. never see again?
- I won't allow him to make us apart. After all, he already decided to stay a bit longer. I'll manage to impose myself and stay here with you. I'm old enough to marry, so I'm perfectly able to start my own life. And I want to live it with you… Aren't you happy?
- Very happy.
And lastly pain to his neck, to his chest. Two beautiful blue eyes looking at him, weeping with tears..
- Do you… love me?
- W-words wouldn't… wouldn't be enough to tell you how much…
He jerked back in shock, falling to the ground, one hand holding his head, the pain fading away. Only a disturbing pulsing to his temples was left. He took several long breaths, his head spinning more and more weakly. What had just happened? Whose voice did he hear? The night before, when he was with the Mayor, he had been feeling the same way. What was going on?
He swallowed soundly, going back to look at his reflection. The boy was gone now, and his usual reflection was back. He hesitantly reached out to touch the water, his hand creating small waves as it moved over the surface, blurring the image. He gulped again, pulling away, his heart was racing. He was probably tired and seeing things that weren't there.
There was no other explanation. Or perhaps it was because of those monsters. They had traumatized him so bad he'd just see vampires everywhere, even where they were not.
- Matris in Aurora, et ad portas paradisi. [1] - He whispered, making a reverence to the statue without realizing to be observed again.
But a few yalms from him, on the warehouse's roof, something was carefully watching him with his vivacious blue eyes, almost nostalgic, one hand resting on his leg and the other on the roof, his head tilted to one side. He had only managed to scare him more, when he showed him how he once was for those very few instants before the end. He couldn't save him, and had lived with that grief for three-hundred years.
He was now more and more determined to fulfill his wish. He wouldn't have lost him again. He wanted him for himself, at least in that death-like state that now was his life.
- I could've bet I'd find you here. - Whispered a voice behind him; he looked over his shoulder, seeing the darkened face of his brother, his blue-gray eyes were shining ominously in the moonlight.
He looked back ahead, not minding him. - What do you want, Kirious? - He whispered, with a sigh. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want to hear another predicament.
- Keep an eye on you. - Replied the red-haired one, sitting next to him. - Our uncle doesn't want you to try something risky. He received an askance glare and a bothered snort, as if his brother wasn't appreciating his presence.
- I never needed someone to control me. - He pointed out, with the same quiet tone.
- Yet as you can see, I'm forced to look at what you do, rather than going to the village to hunt. - Huffed his brother irritatedly, making sure not to speak too loudly. - Our uncle doesn't trust what you do. You should be careful and get a hold of yourself, when you talk to him.
The chestnut-haired vampire crossed his legs nonchalantly, fixing his white shirt and folding arms. He was resisting the urge to cuss him out. It would've been a problem if they'd be seen at that point.
- I know why I'm acting like this, you keep out of it. - He said quietly, checking carefully the movements of the priest, still next to the fountain, praying. A sigh escaped his cold lips, and the sky seemed to get cloudy.
- How long has it been since you last drank, brother? - Kirious questioned, examining him closely.
He shrugged, keeping his gaze down. - A while, I suppose. - He said, adding nothing else. All the blood servants he had had in the past two months hadn't lasted a single day, and for now he didn't wish more.
- Talkative as usual. - Said Kirious with irony, resting one elbow on his hand's palm. - Could you at least explain why you keep to stalk this priest? We shouldn't even be near this place. You know what the Church is hiding.
This time, he got his brother's full attention. He felt a shiver running down his back, nearly causing rain to start falling down.
- You mustn't remind me… And for now, you need not to know. - He hissed, resting his hand back on the building's surface. - Let us let Father Mirror enjoy his fake faith just a little longer.
The younger creature looked at him askance, letting the shadow of a smile rise on his lips. - Mmh… Mirror. - He licked his lips. - I remember when I broke our mothers' on accident and cut myself… His name makes me want to see his blood even more.
The blue-eyed youth made a low noise from the bottom of his throat, similar to a growl. - Don't you dare, Kirious. - The roof on which they were sitting shook briefly and seemed almost to lift, before filling with cracks. - I told you he's mine alone. Don't you dare to lay a single finger on him.
Struck by the sudden burst of anger, the younger brother looked down, staring at his legs as if paying him no mind. - So, when do you think to make your move? - He asked.
A smile took over the chestnut-haired's face. - Soon… Very soon. - He murmured.
Below, next to the fountain, a strange shiver climbed up the priest's back, and he gulped, squeezing into his black robe and looking around nervously. He staggered towards the Church, feeling even more troubled than he was when he got there, after that vision and the strange emotions it had caused.
But there was no need to worry. He and the clerics were on an holy land. Those monsters wouldn't have dared to get that close. And until the problem would be solved, he would've made it so that the village's community would move into his Abbey; he was sure it would've managed to contain them all.
Also, if it was really his fault, he would've returned to the mansion again, crossing that clearing.
That very morrow.
And if needed, he would've gone alone.
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[1] In name of the Mother, of Dawn, and of the Gates of Paradise.
The funeral has just come to an end.
The people slowly exited the chapel, suffocating sobs into their handkerchiefs, watching the Mayor's coffin pass by. His son was on the front of the small procession, his washed-out blue eyes swollen with tears, but keeping a detached demeanor as he stared ahead. That's how his father would've wanted him to be. He wouldn't have wished to see him despair like a little girl, all-fours to the ground, unable to do anything but cry. He had been educated to become a strong man.
His father had been strict, but good. A man who had always cared about others. A man who had taught him about life and that lost his own in that worthless, horrible way. The pain Peb Renford was feeling right there was stronger than anyone could guess. A pain that he wouldn't have let come out, now that he was in charge of the small town and his family. Strong and determined. That's how his father had taught him to be. And that's how he'd try to look, as soil was thrown over the coffin hosting John Renford's eternal rest.
The flowers, the hymns, the commemoration, everything seemed to have gone in a flash, and as he thought back of his childhood beside his father, everything had ended before he could even realize it.
He stood to contemplate the grave for the longest time, lost in his thoughts. Condolences had reached his ears as undecipherable muttering over the rain that had been endlessly falling over their heads. He didn't really know how many hours had passed, but at some point he felt one hand resting over his shoulder, and he turned to stare into the gold-streaked eyes of the priest, looking at him. He smiled weakly at him, before looking back at the grave.
- I think it is time you go back home, Peb. - Said the priest. His voice was thin and muffled. Sympathetic.
- Yes. I think I should, Mirror. - He whispered, lowering his head. - I need some time.. to recover.
The priest ran one arm behind his shoulders, leading him across the graveyard on the back of the Abbey, dominated by the tall, majestic bell tower. As they crossed the courtyard he opened the heavy door to walk through the side nave where the lit lanterns were feebly lighting the path, and they walked into the clerics entering the Church's chorus for one of the masses, their hands clasped and their heads low, silent and disciplined. They walked through the galleries of the cloister with the vaulted ceiling until they reached the main building, exiting the main door.
The cold had intensified in that brief meantime, and rain had subsided to small white snowflakes, falling slowly around them.
- Shall I take you home, Peb? - Asked the priest, glancing at his friend and then at the village ahead.
- There's no need to, Father. Don't worry. - He replied, formal again, as he started to walk away with a quick step.
- Peb, wait. - He ran after him and put one hand on his shoulder. - If you need anything, just call me, okay?
Peb sighed, and looked at him. - Really, Mirror… I don't need anything. - His voice's tone was cracking. - I just want to be alone with my family for a while.
The priest contemplated the sadness into the blue irids, and lowered his gaze. - I'm as pained as you are for your father's death; he was like a father to me as well, but.. just let me help you handle this situation.
- Help me? And what can you do, to help me? - He asked, shoving away any formality. - Can you maybe make those monsters disappear? Can you perhaps bring my father back? You can't do neither of these things, so let me do my job as a Mayor now, and mind your own business! - He exclaimed, letting the pain he had built inside him take over.
The priest took a step back, blinking perplexedly. - Peb, listen… - He tried to say.
But Peb intimated silence, raising one hand and looking away. - No, Mirror. Things have started to go wrong in this village since when you became a full-fledged priest. - He took a deep breath. - Everything was almost normal at first, but then the strange winters occurred, and now this. It's almost like you are what made these vampires come here.
- Just what…
- Good day, Father. - He whirled around and walked down the path to the village with long strides, leaving the priest staring at him in shock.
Did he really think it was his fault? How could he? Sighing, the priest went back to his Abbey, and was welcomed by the songs that the clerics had been tuning since before dinner. They finished almost immediately, and he watched the clerics leave the chorus to head to the eatery, where the friar cook had surely prepared a meal for them. He walked past them, getting a few greetings, and exited into the garden, seeking shelter next to the great Goddess's statue situated in the center, sitting on the rock beneath it, burying his face into his hands.
He wanted to be alone.
It wasn't easy for him; he had dedicated himself completely into serving Altana, and to think that in such a short time the same Goddess he had been so devoted to had allowed such horrible things to happen to all those innocents. Once again, he found himself thinking what would've happened if, rather than becoming a novice when he was but ten, giving up to all the amusements and plays allowed to any other child, he had married just as his friend had, experiencing what Peb … those few times they had a chance to speak freely… had called pleasure. Often times, during the first period of his novitiate, when he was but eighteen, he'd sneak out of the Church's dorms and go see Peb into his house; his friend would speak excitedly with the other boys attending, trying to make him join the conversation. And almost always, someone would let out topics about sex, and he'd bow his head, excuse himself and leaving, even though a part of him was tempted to stay and listen.
Such thoughts should've never crossed the mind of a man of the church. What kind of priest was he? Luckily, as time passed, he had grown conscious of the situation. Chastity. Nothing else.
Sighing, he rested his head against the statue, looking at the night sky, the snow still falling and painting of white the environment surrounding him, and himself too. He shook some of it off his hair, and just stared into the sky with melancholy, as if awaiting a sign.
He then distractedly glanced to the few trees next to the building, seeing the fronds barely moved by a weak breeze, that reached him to play with his hair.
- Why do you test us like this, Altana? - He whispered, talking to the wind. The great scheme of the Goddess was beyond his reach, just as her actions. And as others before, even a priest just as himself couldn't be as arrogant as to try and understand it. He sighed one last time, before walking through the garden again and past statues, bushes, and roses stubbornly fighting the frost.
The flowers' smell was blending into the air, almost muffled, along with humidity and the stingy smell of soil and grass. Those small moments of quietness were pleasant, after all. He walked where a few small torches were lit, illuminating the area more than the surrounding zone, hardly covered by the almost-full moonlight, showing him the few trees nearby and the warehouse to the right.
He stopped by the fountain, staring into it, with only the whispers of night surrounding him. The water was as still as a mirror and reflected the rather feminine face of a brown-haired boy with gold-streaked eyes, perfectly visible thanks to the hair tied into a braid and the well-cured bangs framing the delicate, neat traits of his cheekbones. The priest looked more closely, blinking, and the boy blinked as well.
He frowned. Was that really him? How could it be? He had seen his own reflection into the glasses of the Abbey many times of late, often staring at his image longer than needed, almost sinning of vanity, and he had never seen that face.
Yet the boy he was seeing now was almost identical. Completely, if not for the strange tattoos on his cheeks and the younger face. He placed hands on the fountain's edge, leaning forward even more.
He frowned, and as before, his reflection imitated him.
He made a face, and that was copied as well.
What was he doing? He let out a sigh, still staring at the image. He looked intensely at it for a few seconds until, without him changing his expression at all, it pursed its lips into a grin, showing two sharp, white canines.
His head started to suddenly hurt as the night before, as his mind started to show him a quick sequence of images and words he couldn't understand.
- I can't make you feel these emotions… we shouldn't even be together.
- That's why I never asked. I don't want you to get jailed or condemned.
- But I love you, that's all what matters.
Stone streets, luxurious mansions and castles, rich satin clothes, curtains and blankets made of expensive silk of a thousand colors, faces he had never seen…
- I hate this lifestyle, you should know better than anyone.
- Your uncle would scold you, if he heard that. And, he wouldn't want you to be here.
- I don't give a damn about that old man at all.
- He's still your uncle; treat him with respect.
More confused images with quotes and words, places he had never seen, smells he had never known…
- After Mother's death he became even stranger than before.. It's as if he were constantly looking behind his back.
- Hahah, you think he's growing paranoid?
- Who knows… But he's really weird.
- Weird? Now, now.. I thought all you people from Bastok were like that.
- Hmph. My uncle, as you can see, is an exception! But don't go around saying we're from there… You know how people are, no?
- Sorry, you're right.
Nostalgia, anxiety, fear, joy for something he couldn't explain were taking over his heart bit by bit, as faded faces tried to rise from his memory, paining his head dreadfully.
- Why are you here in Tavnazia, anyway? I thought you were in Grauberg, in your summer estate. Didn't you say that's where you were practicing your lessons?
- Actually.. I should've been on the way to Windurst…
- Windurst!? So far away?
- Yeah.. My uncle wanted to go back to his estate to restore his Landlord title.
- So… we'll.. never see again?
- I won't allow him to make us apart. After all, he already decided to stay a bit longer. I'll manage to impose myself and stay here with you. I'm old enough to marry, so I'm perfectly able to start my own life. And I want to live it with you… Aren't you happy?
- Very happy.
And lastly pain to his neck, to his chest. Two beautiful blue eyes looking at him, weeping with tears..
- Do you… love me?
- W-words wouldn't… wouldn't be enough to tell you how much…
He jerked back in shock, falling to the ground, one hand holding his head, the pain fading away. Only a disturbing pulsing to his temples was left. He took several long breaths, his head spinning more and more weakly. What had just happened? Whose voice did he hear? The night before, when he was with the Mayor, he had been feeling the same way. What was going on?
He swallowed soundly, going back to look at his reflection. The boy was gone now, and his usual reflection was back. He hesitantly reached out to touch the water, his hand creating small waves as it moved over the surface, blurring the image. He gulped again, pulling away, his heart was racing. He was probably tired and seeing things that weren't there.
There was no other explanation. Or perhaps it was because of those monsters. They had traumatized him so bad he'd just see vampires everywhere, even where they were not.
- Matris in Aurora, et ad portas paradisi. [1] - He whispered, making a reverence to the statue without realizing to be observed again.
But a few yalms from him, on the warehouse's roof, something was carefully watching him with his vivacious blue eyes, almost nostalgic, one hand resting on his leg and the other on the roof, his head tilted to one side. He had only managed to scare him more, when he showed him how he once was for those very few instants before the end. He couldn't save him, and had lived with that grief for three-hundred years.
He was now more and more determined to fulfill his wish. He wouldn't have lost him again. He wanted him for himself, at least in that death-like state that now was his life.
- I could've bet I'd find you here. - Whispered a voice behind him; he looked over his shoulder, seeing the darkened face of his brother, his blue-gray eyes were shining ominously in the moonlight.
He looked back ahead, not minding him. - What do you want, Kirious? - He whispered, with a sigh. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want to hear another predicament.
- Keep an eye on you. - Replied the red-haired one, sitting next to him. - Our uncle doesn't want you to try something risky. He received an askance glare and a bothered snort, as if his brother wasn't appreciating his presence.
- I never needed someone to control me. - He pointed out, with the same quiet tone.
- Yet as you can see, I'm forced to look at what you do, rather than going to the village to hunt. - Huffed his brother irritatedly, making sure not to speak too loudly. - Our uncle doesn't trust what you do. You should be careful and get a hold of yourself, when you talk to him.
The chestnut-haired vampire crossed his legs nonchalantly, fixing his white shirt and folding arms. He was resisting the urge to cuss him out. It would've been a problem if they'd be seen at that point.
- I know why I'm acting like this, you keep out of it. - He said quietly, checking carefully the movements of the priest, still next to the fountain, praying. A sigh escaped his cold lips, and the sky seemed to get cloudy.
- How long has it been since you last drank, brother? - Kirious questioned, examining him closely.
He shrugged, keeping his gaze down. - A while, I suppose. - He said, adding nothing else. All the blood servants he had had in the past two months hadn't lasted a single day, and for now he didn't wish more.
- Talkative as usual. - Said Kirious with irony, resting one elbow on his hand's palm. - Could you at least explain why you keep to stalk this priest? We shouldn't even be near this place. You know what the Church is hiding.
This time, he got his brother's full attention. He felt a shiver running down his back, nearly causing rain to start falling down.
- You mustn't remind me… And for now, you need not to know. - He hissed, resting his hand back on the building's surface. - Let us let Father Mirror enjoy his fake faith just a little longer.
The younger creature looked at him askance, letting the shadow of a smile rise on his lips. - Mmh… Mirror. - He licked his lips. - I remember when I broke our mothers' on accident and cut myself… His name makes me want to see his blood even more.
The blue-eyed youth made a low noise from the bottom of his throat, similar to a growl. - Don't you dare, Kirious. - The roof on which they were sitting shook briefly and seemed almost to lift, before filling with cracks. - I told you he's mine alone. Don't you dare to lay a single finger on him.
Struck by the sudden burst of anger, the younger brother looked down, staring at his legs as if paying him no mind. - So, when do you think to make your move? - He asked.
A smile took over the chestnut-haired's face. - Soon… Very soon. - He murmured.
Below, next to the fountain, a strange shiver climbed up the priest's back, and he gulped, squeezing into his black robe and looking around nervously. He staggered towards the Church, feeling even more troubled than he was when he got there, after that vision and the strange emotions it had caused.
But there was no need to worry. He and the clerics were on an holy land. Those monsters wouldn't have dared to get that close. And until the problem would be solved, he would've made it so that the village's community would move into his Abbey; he was sure it would've managed to contain them all.
Also, if it was really his fault, he would've returned to the mansion again, crossing that clearing.
That very morrow.
And if needed, he would've gone alone.
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[1] In name of the Mother, of Dawn, and of the Gates of Paradise.
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
The Vampire's Kiss: Act VIII - Encounters
Snow danced before his eyes, swirling slowly and silently, spreading a soft veil over the landscape around him. It was early in the morning, and from where he was he could clearly hear the mass that the clerics had begun after the bells' morning ring. He could also here some hesitant chirping from the thick layer of leaves above his head, letting but a few fragments of clear sky out despite the snow.
His night had been sleepless because of the continuous nightmares that were haunting him, showing him shadows, bloody faces of unknown people, alternating to cruel images, troubling his sleep. He could barely remember the words he had heard in his sleep, but what had shocked him the most was what the blurry and confused dream he had in the end; that one forced him to make amends from the very beginning of the day.
How could one such as himself dream such things? He had awakened in shock, screaming without apparent reason, covered in cold swear, his hair glued wet on his forehead, his breath fast and short. He had looked around as if he feared Promathia himself could be there staring at him, trying to make him fall into temptation, and had gulped fatigued, his stomach feeling sick; he had completely ignored the novice that had ran to see what the screaming could be about.
What had that weird feeling been, that one morning?
Even his headaches had grown stronger, and sleep for him had not only become impossible to have, but even dreaded. Sighing, he shook his head to free it from those thoughts, roaming into the monastery's garden, shivering slightly under the breeze blowing through it. He sneezed and sniffled like a kid. A cold was the last thing he needed.
He turned right to take a secondary road and leave the Abbey, without really knowing what to do. His first sermon would've begun soon, and he could already spot the first churchgoers walking up the road, looking around, as the sun slowly rose to irradiate over the village. He greeted with a bow those that had reached the great doors, following them inside the Church where the service would've taken place.
He start to talk slowly, stopping every now and then to let them sing, for the blessing rituals, to then resume his sermon, sensing in the air a tension throughout the process. When the moment of the offerings came the priest took a deep breath, nodding to one of the altar boys behind him, sitting to the the right side, to make them pass by with a small plate along the benches, to collect donations from the churchgoers.
Noon came by quickly, and everybody went back to their home, to keep going on their traders before the sunset, taking advantage of the sun's brightest hour. The one to remain for the longest time was the son of the Mayor, who called the priest aside in a more private place.
His behavior was suspicious, as if he was trying to say something. The two sat in front of each other in silence, listening to their breathing and the wind outside of the window. The tea that had been prepared from one of the novices was ignored on the mahogany table, steaming all its heat away bit by bit. Neither of them had touched it yet.
After taking a long breath, Peb Renford decided to speak, pulling out a small worn-out book from a pocket of his jacket, and handing it to the priest.
- It belonged to my father. - He said quietly, with another sigh.
The man of the church examined it for a bit, turning it upside down in his hands. Then he handed it back, shaking his head. - What is it? - He asked.
The dense atmosphere between the two was weird. They had had a small argument the day before, but the priest knew all too well that everything would've been all right between them, in the end. It wasn't their first fight.
- His diary. - Whispered Peb, placing it in his pocket again. - My father wasn't who we thought he was.
The priest blinked, confused. - What do you mean?
- He… my grandparents… they all were hunters.
- What are you trying to say, Peb?
The man shook his head and retrieved out the diary. - It's all written in here. - He said, drumming a finger on the cover. - There's pages that date back to 612 C.E. The most recent ones, dated 877 C.E. … they're all signed under the last name of Ahhad. - There was a strangely sad frown on his face. - My father's name was John Renford.
- You mean… all this time… he's been using a false name? - He asked, startled.
The Renford family had moved in that zone back during the early 700s, all the elders of the village knew that story. Honest workers, they had brought peace and tranquility into town, bringing back fertility into that arid land with the water-related magic abilities that ran through some of its members, and easing life for everyone in general. That is why it had been unanimously decided to have them take the leading role in the village. It had been years since the town's lead had been passed down amongst that family's firstborns.
- From what I've been reading here, yes. - He whispered, opening the diary onto a page.
There was a strange a strange sketch in red chalk showing half of a rather young man's face, with hair brushed backwards and a strange light in his eyes, thanks to the light effect the pencil had created. The other half was transfigured into a mask of pure hatred, the lips pulled to show a canine reaching down to the lower lip; on its tip the pencil had been pressed down harder, maybe to represent something hard to recognize with the lone copper color. To the side were some notes, written with a very neat calligraphy that he didn't recognize, but was sure to be very old, even ancient. Even so, it was easy enough to decipher the writing.
- Read it yourself. - Said Peb, turning the diary towards him. - Right here.
The priest leaned forward and took the book in his hands, looking for the paragraph he had pointed at and starting to read.
- « It's been one full day since when I started this hunt; I've been following by the moment he moved in this small area near Tavnazia from Windurst.”»-, he slowly read outloud, shifting position on his chair, gulping at the mention of the cities. He had heard both of them the day before from those strange voices and blurred memories. He still didn't know what they meant, but he was sure those vampires had something to do with it, or maybe even more he believed himself. He cleared his throat, continuing, trying to not let his nervousness be detected in his voice. -« It's almost as if he wasn't alone. He probably has some allies, because the population is disappearing quickly, faster than I thought… He's really clever; he knows how to hide, and he even got a cover, starting to make business with one of the families around here.»
The notes were a little smudged and couldn't be read, so the priest turned the page, and resumed his reading. -« And that's not all. He knows he's being hunted and often times is keeping one of his nephews with him. I would rather to spare that boy from the sight of his uncle's violent death, so I'm holding back when he's around. He'll usually wander around the streets in Tavnazia along with the lone son of the man the uncle deals with to not let his false identity be uncovered.»
Peb interrupted him, retrieving the diary. - Now read here, an exact month after what you've just read. - He flipped a few pages, where a strange sketch in red chalk was surrounded by other notes. - Right here.
The priest took a deep breath, and swallowed in. - « I've managed to destroy most of those creatures; I think he's the only one left, along with a few others that managed to escape. Unfortunately, the methods I've used on the others seem to have no effect on him. I must figure out a way.» - He stopped reading, to look at his friend, his gold-streaked brown eyes veiled with fear. - Peb, what is the whole meaning of this? I don't get it.
The son of the Mayor took a deep breath before shrugging. - I told you, Mirror. - No formality was left in his voice. - I come from a family of hunters.. well… werewolf and vampire hunters.
- This is madness. - He murmured, confused.
- I know, what do you think?
The priest glanced at the window, where the sun was slowly setting. He was missing the whole meaning of this. He was determined to fulfill his goal from the other day. He would've gone back to the mansion. He was a priest. He would've done something, in the name of the Goddess.
It was his friend to bring him back to reality, and he focused his attention back on him, blinking.
- There's more. - Peb whispered, showing him one of the last pages of the diary. - My father never got to read the end of this, it seems.
The man of church leaned forward to glance at the pages, curiously. There was a sketch showing the face of a woman, her eyes closed and her lips stained with what could've been blood, considering the color used. It was in charcoal this time, and the only blood-like stain was on the woman's lips. She was really gorgeous, with her hair cut to the neck; he was sure he had seen her before.
- She's the woman that was in the portrait, right? - He asked immediately to Peb, looking at him. He nodded, showing him other sketches on the following page.
It was the faces of servants, much likely, people belonging to a gone age, but what shocked him the most was the face of a boy with long hair tied in a braid resting on his shoulder and a set of tattoos on his cheeks. His slightly-round face was horribly similar to his own.
- The owner of this diary, the hunter, had an extraordinary memory. - He explained, seeing how shocked Mirror was by the sketches.
- It's… It's like a window facing the past. - Murmured the priest, his throat feeling dry, comparing the image to the one he had seen in the water for a few moments. - The realism in these pictures is… astounding.
- Did you notice how much this boy resembles you? - He touched the page where the long-haired boy was portrayed. - I may have been an ancestor of yours.
The priest lowered his gaze, gasping. He couldn't tell him that he had already seen that face before, but… Goddess… did that mean he was involved in the whole scheme?
- I don't know what to say, Peb. - He said lamely, discomforted. - I don't know anything about my family tree, you know I was living in the streets and knew almost nothing of my early years, before your father adopted me. - There was a sad tone in his soft voice.
Peb looked at him, knowing that it was a touchy topic for him. He had never met his mother, she had died when giving birth, and little was known of his father. He had lived in a town at the feet of Grauberg up to his four-years before, for a reason or another, Peb's father had gone there for work and decided to take him with him, without giving any real explanation.
He had watched him wandering around the town streets aimlessly, alone, between the stands of the market where he'd try to steal something to keep on living. He had been caught by a vendor and Peb's father had jumped in, paying for what the child had tried to steal. From there on, he had joined the Renford family, even though ignoring his origins. The child felt to have weighted on the family for too long when he reached the ten years old, and decided to become a novice to redeem himself. A rather sad childhood.
- I'm sorry, Mirror. I didn't mean to bring that up. - Whispered Peb, clearly concerned.
The priest waved off absently, trying to cut off the matter. - Don't worry. - He said pulling a smile. - Can I read more? I would like to shed some light on this story.
A little hesitant, Peb handed him the diary, and watching him browse through the pages, examining the sketches and the notices, curiously. His sad frown hadn't disappeared, but he seemed to have calmed down. As the priest flipped the pages, he'd feel a slight ache to his head whenever his eyes ran through the inscriptions; he then stopped, noticing a few folded papers falling from the diary. He immediately picked them up, and placed the diary on his lap before opening them, glancing at the new owner for permission. He stared at them, blinking.
- Hear this, Peb. - He said, coughing to clear his voice. -« My hour is near, my body tells me so. The poison of that vampire is powerful, and I'm not completely sure my attack has taken any effect. I'm sure I was able to strike him to the side, and I don't believe it to be a letal blow, even though the silver blade was poured in holy water and cursed blood.» - he paused, staring at his friend. - What do you think "cursed blood" means?
Peb shrugged, shaking his head. - Is there anything else?
He nodded, looked back at the ripped pages of the diary. - « My only worry, at this time, as I write even though my sight is getting blurrier and blurrier, is the bound fate between those two boys.»- He was shaken by a sudden shiver, and his head spun a little, but he ignored it, keeping to read, slowly. - « Even though his powers were weaker in the daylight, he could perfectly walk around the streets of the foggy Tavnazia. Could it be the same for them as well? Or will they be cursed to roam in the shadows? Will they have to abandon all their affections to become hunted monsters? If that were the case, I cannot help… my time, unfortunately, is over.».
Shaken suddenly, he stood on his feet, and the diary fell to the ground with a deaf sound. He gulped, staring at his friend, inhaling a breath that couldn't hide his fear. - Peb… who are we dealing with, in the name of Altana? - He asked in shock, with one hand on his mouth and a frown on his face, as he picked up the diary. - Who?
- I don't know. I don't even know why they're hunting us. Or how many they are. - He slammed one hand on the smooth wooden table. - I don't know a damn! - He cursed, even though he was in a church.
The priest said nothing. It wasn't the time to predicate. He blinked, startled by his language. Then his traits relaxed. - We must do something, Peb. - He said, calling his friend's attention back. There was no detail to be ignored in what they had just learned, even though it would only bring even more doubts in their minds.
- And what can we do? - He asked, shaking his head weakly. - Even here, in this very church, there's something that I cannot understand.
The priest's face changed into a politely alert expression. He placed one hand on the mahogany surface, trying to ease the dizziness, examining his friend in thought, daring to ask.
- What do you mean? - His voice was slightly cracked.
Peb shrugged, but his expression grew more intense. - I'm still trying to understand. - He confessed quietly, glancing nervously at the window. The dusk was imminent and the sky, still filled with clouds, was pouring with dark hues, creating a gloomy atmosphere.
The priest also looked outside, in silence. How much did they not know? Why so many deaths and tragedies after five years since when he had become a priest? The more he thought about it, the more his head would hurt. And that was bad. Because that's when he'd start hearing those voices again. He sensed a sharp pain to the temples, and let out a weak hiss in pain, even though it was not as bad as days before; he gripped convulsively on the table, bringing the other hand to his head.
He could see a long stone corridor with lit torches to the walls, and heard light steps of two people moving carefully across it…
- Where are we going?
- Sst… Quiet, they could hear us.
He narrowed eyes, gasping for hair. It was happening again, and he didn't know why. He held his head with both hands, trying to shut those voices up, but they just kept haunting him.
The steps continued, and he didn't understand where they were heading. An intense smell of wild roses filled his nostrils as he took deep breaths…
- What, you don't like it?
- You said you didn't want to.
- Yeah, I know.. but you're a damn temptation. If you don't want me to, though…
- You're not going anywhere… Show me what you call with such passion Pleasure.
- Of course, my little Lord.
- Mirror? - Peb called him, standing up to place one hand on his shoulder. - What's wrong?
The priest turned his head weakly, without really looking at him. His eyes were veiled by a sort of dark layer, and he could only see blurred shadows, barely sensing the warmth of his hand, as if his whole body was sinking in a cold pond. The voices grew more and more feeble, becoming confused whispers without any real meaning, as he slowly tried to recover the sight of his friend, looking concerned. He closed and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to chase away that strange, oppressing emptiness inside as he had heard those words.
Pleasure… how can a priest like him know Pleasure? Why wouldn't those voices stop tormenting him?
- Mirror? How are you, Mirror?
Once again, from somewhere far away, he heard his friend's voice. He could still only see a blurred dark silhouette, slightly white in color. He focused on the image, then shook his head to chase away the disarticulated whirl of memories in his mind, still spinning wildly with distant words. He swallowed noisily, and looked at the man in front of him, trying to smile. Little by little he got back to his senses, even the smell was gone.
He pointed the chair at him, as if intimating to sit, and he reluctantly obeyed. - I've just been suffering with migraine of late, it's nothing. - He lied, tried to reassure him as he massaged a temple before reaching out to the teapot to fill a cup. He sipped the tea. It was cold.
- Are you sure about that? - Asked Peb, concerned. After what had happened and was happening, he was even more fearful. Should he had listened to his father's advice and take his family to Tavnazia? But had he done that, what would have happened to the priest and his people? He didn't know, and didn't want anything else to happen. That's the only reason he was still there,in that Goddess-forsaken land.
- You think I'd lie to you? - Replied Mirror, smiling weakly. He got a small snort in reply, and a raised eyebrow. The priest let out a short breath. He hadn't forgotten his difficult task. If finding the vampires would've solved something, and if it was really his fault if they had appeared, he had to move quickly. He couldn't remain in the safety of the church while the churchgoers were mercilessly hunted by those creatures. He would've gone to the mansion, as promised. It was stupid, he knew it. He couldn't have done much and..
- Go.
He shook, blinking. He looked at Peb, who was filling his own cup. - Did you say something, Peb? - He asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
The man put the pot down and took a small sip, staring at him with narrowed eyes. - No, why? - He asked, taking another sip.
Confused, Mirror lowered his gaze, his mouth opened slightly. - I could've sworn… - He sighed. - No, it's nothing.
Putting the cup down, Peb leaned forward towards him, studying him with his blue-gray eyes as if trying to find something specific past his glasses. He narrowed his eyes, scratching his chin absently, caressing what little of a beard he had.
- Are you sure you're okay as you say, Mirror? - He asked suspiciously. - I don't want to meddle, but since yesterday… - He trailed off. He hadn't been a good friend to him. He wanted to help, and he would've done so. He was caught off surprise by the small smile he received as an answer.
- I'm glad to know you still worry about me as when we were but children, Peb. - He murmured softly. - What happened yesterday is a gone memory, don't worry.
They looked at each other for a while, before the Mayor's son decided to let that skeptical mask of doubt fall off. He sighed weakly, placing his back against the chair, his arms folded.
- Sorry anyway, Mirror. - He whispered.
The priest let out a small chuckle, but there was no mocking in it. Just… tenderness. He placed one hand on his friend's shoulder, smiling. - Stop apologizing, you have no reason to. - He closed his eyes for a moment, before turning his back at him to go back sitting to the other side of the table, where glanced at the window.
The sky had grown even darker now, and it was difficult to recognize the shape of the trees and the small warehouses next to the church. The idea of going to the mansion was still there, although it had grown feebler. Especially after he had heard that voice. He focused back on the man still looking at him, trying to guess his thoughts.
- What? - He asked quietly.
The man shrugged, biting his lower lip. - I'm just wondering if you're as okay as you try to make me believe. - It was but a low murmur. - You look pale.
- Tha mi math, Peb. [1] - snapped the priest, shrugging, not realizing he hadn't spoken English.
Unlike Peb, who had suddenly turned very serious. - What!? - He blinked, perplexed, and stood up to grab the priest's face. - Mirror… what kind of language was that!?
The man of church stared at him, confused. - What language? - He asked, feeling his friend shaking.
Peb's arms fell limp to his sides. - Mirror… - He gulped, backing away slowly. - … You can't not have heard what you've said and in what language.
The priest looked at him for a while, not understanding his behavior. Once again, he heard that voice ordering him to go. He ignored it, without looking away from his friend.
- Peb, I spoke as I always do. - He said, perfectly calm despite the voice hammering in his mind, as he slowly stood. - And I also have an urgent matter to solve. - He grabbed on the pendant on his chest, taking a deep breath. - I plan to go to the mansion, Peb. - His tone was quiet, almost not his usual one, as he walked to the door. - You're with me?
The son of the Mayor temporarily forgot the strange talk of the priest, shaking to walk up to him quickly, placing one hand on his shoulder. - Are you crazy? You can't go at this hour! - He exclaimed, in shock. - I can't let you go, Mirror! I can't! I don't want to lose you too!
- And what do you plan to do to stop me? - He asked calmly. Without an answer, he opened the door, smiling bitterly at his friend. - Farewell, Peb.
He left the church followed by the man's protests, and began to ran towards the center of the forest, without stopping, not looking back. He knew he wouldn't have continued, had he turned. He still wondered what had gone through his mind. Maybe, deep inside, he believed to Peb's words. It was his fault if those vampires had killed so many people.
And, if he was the true prey, he would've served their desired meal over a silver plate. Maybe it was also because of the voice he had heard, so pleading and imperative at the same time, asking him to go. The reason would've become clear once arrived.
Le tree fronds seemed to be closing in over him, night almost completely over the sky above, bringing the first candid snowflakes. Careful not to trip in the roots, he quickly arrived into the clearing, where he stopped to catch some breath, looking up to check his surroundings. A breeze forced him to close his eyes, and when he opened them again, the moonlight peeking through the clouds lit the features of the vampire standing before him.
Shorter than him, yet sinuous, he vaguely resembled an angel.
An angel of death. Of terror.
He was the incarnation of terrestrial fear, of everything a human being could dread.
To cross his gaze meant to part from life itself.
Those hypnotic vivid blue eyes were intensely magnetic; they had the power to make one forget their identity and thoughts.
Even forget what was about to happen to them.
But that was not enough to wish to gaze away from them.
They'd attract you against your will.
It was like to be bound by something ferocious and powerful that had been waiting for nothing else but your death.
A joyless smile surfaced on the creature's lips, showing white canines.
- I've been waiting for you, Father.
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[1] I'm all right, Peb. (Bastokan)
Snow danced before his eyes, swirling slowly and silently, spreading a soft veil over the landscape around him. It was early in the morning, and from where he was he could clearly hear the mass that the clerics had begun after the bells' morning ring. He could also here some hesitant chirping from the thick layer of leaves above his head, letting but a few fragments of clear sky out despite the snow.
His night had been sleepless because of the continuous nightmares that were haunting him, showing him shadows, bloody faces of unknown people, alternating to cruel images, troubling his sleep. He could barely remember the words he had heard in his sleep, but what had shocked him the most was what the blurry and confused dream he had in the end; that one forced him to make amends from the very beginning of the day.
How could one such as himself dream such things? He had awakened in shock, screaming without apparent reason, covered in cold swear, his hair glued wet on his forehead, his breath fast and short. He had looked around as if he feared Promathia himself could be there staring at him, trying to make him fall into temptation, and had gulped fatigued, his stomach feeling sick; he had completely ignored the novice that had ran to see what the screaming could be about.
What had that weird feeling been, that one morning?
Even his headaches had grown stronger, and sleep for him had not only become impossible to have, but even dreaded. Sighing, he shook his head to free it from those thoughts, roaming into the monastery's garden, shivering slightly under the breeze blowing through it. He sneezed and sniffled like a kid. A cold was the last thing he needed.
He turned right to take a secondary road and leave the Abbey, without really knowing what to do. His first sermon would've begun soon, and he could already spot the first churchgoers walking up the road, looking around, as the sun slowly rose to irradiate over the village. He greeted with a bow those that had reached the great doors, following them inside the Church where the service would've taken place.
He start to talk slowly, stopping every now and then to let them sing, for the blessing rituals, to then resume his sermon, sensing in the air a tension throughout the process. When the moment of the offerings came the priest took a deep breath, nodding to one of the altar boys behind him, sitting to the the right side, to make them pass by with a small plate along the benches, to collect donations from the churchgoers.
Noon came by quickly, and everybody went back to their home, to keep going on their traders before the sunset, taking advantage of the sun's brightest hour. The one to remain for the longest time was the son of the Mayor, who called the priest aside in a more private place.
His behavior was suspicious, as if he was trying to say something. The two sat in front of each other in silence, listening to their breathing and the wind outside of the window. The tea that had been prepared from one of the novices was ignored on the mahogany table, steaming all its heat away bit by bit. Neither of them had touched it yet.
After taking a long breath, Peb Renford decided to speak, pulling out a small worn-out book from a pocket of his jacket, and handing it to the priest.
- It belonged to my father. - He said quietly, with another sigh.
The man of the church examined it for a bit, turning it upside down in his hands. Then he handed it back, shaking his head. - What is it? - He asked.
The dense atmosphere between the two was weird. They had had a small argument the day before, but the priest knew all too well that everything would've been all right between them, in the end. It wasn't their first fight.
- His diary. - Whispered Peb, placing it in his pocket again. - My father wasn't who we thought he was.
The priest blinked, confused. - What do you mean?
- He… my grandparents… they all were hunters.
- What are you trying to say, Peb?
The man shook his head and retrieved out the diary. - It's all written in here. - He said, drumming a finger on the cover. - There's pages that date back to 612 C.E. The most recent ones, dated 877 C.E. … they're all signed under the last name of Ahhad. - There was a strangely sad frown on his face. - My father's name was John Renford.
- You mean… all this time… he's been using a false name? - He asked, startled.
The Renford family had moved in that zone back during the early 700s, all the elders of the village knew that story. Honest workers, they had brought peace and tranquility into town, bringing back fertility into that arid land with the water-related magic abilities that ran through some of its members, and easing life for everyone in general. That is why it had been unanimously decided to have them take the leading role in the village. It had been years since the town's lead had been passed down amongst that family's firstborns.
- From what I've been reading here, yes. - He whispered, opening the diary onto a page.
There was a strange a strange sketch in red chalk showing half of a rather young man's face, with hair brushed backwards and a strange light in his eyes, thanks to the light effect the pencil had created. The other half was transfigured into a mask of pure hatred, the lips pulled to show a canine reaching down to the lower lip; on its tip the pencil had been pressed down harder, maybe to represent something hard to recognize with the lone copper color. To the side were some notes, written with a very neat calligraphy that he didn't recognize, but was sure to be very old, even ancient. Even so, it was easy enough to decipher the writing.
- Read it yourself. - Said Peb, turning the diary towards him. - Right here.
The priest leaned forward and took the book in his hands, looking for the paragraph he had pointed at and starting to read.
- « It's been one full day since when I started this hunt; I've been following by the moment he moved in this small area near Tavnazia from Windurst.”»-, he slowly read outloud, shifting position on his chair, gulping at the mention of the cities. He had heard both of them the day before from those strange voices and blurred memories. He still didn't know what they meant, but he was sure those vampires had something to do with it, or maybe even more he believed himself. He cleared his throat, continuing, trying to not let his nervousness be detected in his voice. -« It's almost as if he wasn't alone. He probably has some allies, because the population is disappearing quickly, faster than I thought… He's really clever; he knows how to hide, and he even got a cover, starting to make business with one of the families around here.»
The notes were a little smudged and couldn't be read, so the priest turned the page, and resumed his reading. -« And that's not all. He knows he's being hunted and often times is keeping one of his nephews with him. I would rather to spare that boy from the sight of his uncle's violent death, so I'm holding back when he's around. He'll usually wander around the streets in Tavnazia along with the lone son of the man the uncle deals with to not let his false identity be uncovered.»
Peb interrupted him, retrieving the diary. - Now read here, an exact month after what you've just read. - He flipped a few pages, where a strange sketch in red chalk was surrounded by other notes. - Right here.
The priest took a deep breath, and swallowed in. - « I've managed to destroy most of those creatures; I think he's the only one left, along with a few others that managed to escape. Unfortunately, the methods I've used on the others seem to have no effect on him. I must figure out a way.» - He stopped reading, to look at his friend, his gold-streaked brown eyes veiled with fear. - Peb, what is the whole meaning of this? I don't get it.
The son of the Mayor took a deep breath before shrugging. - I told you, Mirror. - No formality was left in his voice. - I come from a family of hunters.. well… werewolf and vampire hunters.
- This is madness. - He murmured, confused.
- I know, what do you think?
The priest glanced at the window, where the sun was slowly setting. He was missing the whole meaning of this. He was determined to fulfill his goal from the other day. He would've gone back to the mansion. He was a priest. He would've done something, in the name of the Goddess.
It was his friend to bring him back to reality, and he focused his attention back on him, blinking.
- There's more. - Peb whispered, showing him one of the last pages of the diary. - My father never got to read the end of this, it seems.
The man of church leaned forward to glance at the pages, curiously. There was a sketch showing the face of a woman, her eyes closed and her lips stained with what could've been blood, considering the color used. It was in charcoal this time, and the only blood-like stain was on the woman's lips. She was really gorgeous, with her hair cut to the neck; he was sure he had seen her before.
- She's the woman that was in the portrait, right? - He asked immediately to Peb, looking at him. He nodded, showing him other sketches on the following page.
It was the faces of servants, much likely, people belonging to a gone age, but what shocked him the most was the face of a boy with long hair tied in a braid resting on his shoulder and a set of tattoos on his cheeks. His slightly-round face was horribly similar to his own.
- The owner of this diary, the hunter, had an extraordinary memory. - He explained, seeing how shocked Mirror was by the sketches.
- It's… It's like a window facing the past. - Murmured the priest, his throat feeling dry, comparing the image to the one he had seen in the water for a few moments. - The realism in these pictures is… astounding.
- Did you notice how much this boy resembles you? - He touched the page where the long-haired boy was portrayed. - I may have been an ancestor of yours.
The priest lowered his gaze, gasping. He couldn't tell him that he had already seen that face before, but… Goddess… did that mean he was involved in the whole scheme?
- I don't know what to say, Peb. - He said lamely, discomforted. - I don't know anything about my family tree, you know I was living in the streets and knew almost nothing of my early years, before your father adopted me. - There was a sad tone in his soft voice.
Peb looked at him, knowing that it was a touchy topic for him. He had never met his mother, she had died when giving birth, and little was known of his father. He had lived in a town at the feet of Grauberg up to his four-years before, for a reason or another, Peb's father had gone there for work and decided to take him with him, without giving any real explanation.
He had watched him wandering around the town streets aimlessly, alone, between the stands of the market where he'd try to steal something to keep on living. He had been caught by a vendor and Peb's father had jumped in, paying for what the child had tried to steal. From there on, he had joined the Renford family, even though ignoring his origins. The child felt to have weighted on the family for too long when he reached the ten years old, and decided to become a novice to redeem himself. A rather sad childhood.
- I'm sorry, Mirror. I didn't mean to bring that up. - Whispered Peb, clearly concerned.
The priest waved off absently, trying to cut off the matter. - Don't worry. - He said pulling a smile. - Can I read more? I would like to shed some light on this story.
A little hesitant, Peb handed him the diary, and watching him browse through the pages, examining the sketches and the notices, curiously. His sad frown hadn't disappeared, but he seemed to have calmed down. As the priest flipped the pages, he'd feel a slight ache to his head whenever his eyes ran through the inscriptions; he then stopped, noticing a few folded papers falling from the diary. He immediately picked them up, and placed the diary on his lap before opening them, glancing at the new owner for permission. He stared at them, blinking.
- Hear this, Peb. - He said, coughing to clear his voice. -« My hour is near, my body tells me so. The poison of that vampire is powerful, and I'm not completely sure my attack has taken any effect. I'm sure I was able to strike him to the side, and I don't believe it to be a letal blow, even though the silver blade was poured in holy water and cursed blood.» - he paused, staring at his friend. - What do you think "cursed blood" means?
Peb shrugged, shaking his head. - Is there anything else?
He nodded, looked back at the ripped pages of the diary. - « My only worry, at this time, as I write even though my sight is getting blurrier and blurrier, is the bound fate between those two boys.»- He was shaken by a sudden shiver, and his head spun a little, but he ignored it, keeping to read, slowly. - « Even though his powers were weaker in the daylight, he could perfectly walk around the streets of the foggy Tavnazia. Could it be the same for them as well? Or will they be cursed to roam in the shadows? Will they have to abandon all their affections to become hunted monsters? If that were the case, I cannot help… my time, unfortunately, is over.».
Shaken suddenly, he stood on his feet, and the diary fell to the ground with a deaf sound. He gulped, staring at his friend, inhaling a breath that couldn't hide his fear. - Peb… who are we dealing with, in the name of Altana? - He asked in shock, with one hand on his mouth and a frown on his face, as he picked up the diary. - Who?
- I don't know. I don't even know why they're hunting us. Or how many they are. - He slammed one hand on the smooth wooden table. - I don't know a damn! - He cursed, even though he was in a church.
The priest said nothing. It wasn't the time to predicate. He blinked, startled by his language. Then his traits relaxed. - We must do something, Peb. - He said, calling his friend's attention back. There was no detail to be ignored in what they had just learned, even though it would only bring even more doubts in their minds.
- And what can we do? - He asked, shaking his head weakly. - Even here, in this very church, there's something that I cannot understand.
The priest's face changed into a politely alert expression. He placed one hand on the mahogany surface, trying to ease the dizziness, examining his friend in thought, daring to ask.
- What do you mean? - His voice was slightly cracked.
Peb shrugged, but his expression grew more intense. - I'm still trying to understand. - He confessed quietly, glancing nervously at the window. The dusk was imminent and the sky, still filled with clouds, was pouring with dark hues, creating a gloomy atmosphere.
The priest also looked outside, in silence. How much did they not know? Why so many deaths and tragedies after five years since when he had become a priest? The more he thought about it, the more his head would hurt. And that was bad. Because that's when he'd start hearing those voices again. He sensed a sharp pain to the temples, and let out a weak hiss in pain, even though it was not as bad as days before; he gripped convulsively on the table, bringing the other hand to his head.
He could see a long stone corridor with lit torches to the walls, and heard light steps of two people moving carefully across it…
- Where are we going?
- Sst… Quiet, they could hear us.
He narrowed eyes, gasping for hair. It was happening again, and he didn't know why. He held his head with both hands, trying to shut those voices up, but they just kept haunting him.
The steps continued, and he didn't understand where they were heading. An intense smell of wild roses filled his nostrils as he took deep breaths…
- What, you don't like it?
- You said you didn't want to.
- Yeah, I know.. but you're a damn temptation. If you don't want me to, though…
- You're not going anywhere… Show me what you call with such passion Pleasure.
- Of course, my little Lord.
- Mirror? - Peb called him, standing up to place one hand on his shoulder. - What's wrong?
The priest turned his head weakly, without really looking at him. His eyes were veiled by a sort of dark layer, and he could only see blurred shadows, barely sensing the warmth of his hand, as if his whole body was sinking in a cold pond. The voices grew more and more feeble, becoming confused whispers without any real meaning, as he slowly tried to recover the sight of his friend, looking concerned. He closed and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to chase away that strange, oppressing emptiness inside as he had heard those words.
Pleasure… how can a priest like him know Pleasure? Why wouldn't those voices stop tormenting him?
- Mirror? How are you, Mirror?
Once again, from somewhere far away, he heard his friend's voice. He could still only see a blurred dark silhouette, slightly white in color. He focused on the image, then shook his head to chase away the disarticulated whirl of memories in his mind, still spinning wildly with distant words. He swallowed noisily, and looked at the man in front of him, trying to smile. Little by little he got back to his senses, even the smell was gone.
He pointed the chair at him, as if intimating to sit, and he reluctantly obeyed. - I've just been suffering with migraine of late, it's nothing. - He lied, tried to reassure him as he massaged a temple before reaching out to the teapot to fill a cup. He sipped the tea. It was cold.
- Are you sure about that? - Asked Peb, concerned. After what had happened and was happening, he was even more fearful. Should he had listened to his father's advice and take his family to Tavnazia? But had he done that, what would have happened to the priest and his people? He didn't know, and didn't want anything else to happen. That's the only reason he was still there,in that Goddess-forsaken land.
- You think I'd lie to you? - Replied Mirror, smiling weakly. He got a small snort in reply, and a raised eyebrow. The priest let out a short breath. He hadn't forgotten his difficult task. If finding the vampires would've solved something, and if it was really his fault if they had appeared, he had to move quickly. He couldn't remain in the safety of the church while the churchgoers were mercilessly hunted by those creatures. He would've gone to the mansion, as promised. It was stupid, he knew it. He couldn't have done much and..
- Go.
He shook, blinking. He looked at Peb, who was filling his own cup. - Did you say something, Peb? - He asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
The man put the pot down and took a small sip, staring at him with narrowed eyes. - No, why? - He asked, taking another sip.
Confused, Mirror lowered his gaze, his mouth opened slightly. - I could've sworn… - He sighed. - No, it's nothing.
Putting the cup down, Peb leaned forward towards him, studying him with his blue-gray eyes as if trying to find something specific past his glasses. He narrowed his eyes, scratching his chin absently, caressing what little of a beard he had.
- Are you sure you're okay as you say, Mirror? - He asked suspiciously. - I don't want to meddle, but since yesterday… - He trailed off. He hadn't been a good friend to him. He wanted to help, and he would've done so. He was caught off surprise by the small smile he received as an answer.
- I'm glad to know you still worry about me as when we were but children, Peb. - He murmured softly. - What happened yesterday is a gone memory, don't worry.
They looked at each other for a while, before the Mayor's son decided to let that skeptical mask of doubt fall off. He sighed weakly, placing his back against the chair, his arms folded.
- Sorry anyway, Mirror. - He whispered.
The priest let out a small chuckle, but there was no mocking in it. Just… tenderness. He placed one hand on his friend's shoulder, smiling. - Stop apologizing, you have no reason to. - He closed his eyes for a moment, before turning his back at him to go back sitting to the other side of the table, where glanced at the window.
The sky had grown even darker now, and it was difficult to recognize the shape of the trees and the small warehouses next to the church. The idea of going to the mansion was still there, although it had grown feebler. Especially after he had heard that voice. He focused back on the man still looking at him, trying to guess his thoughts.
- What? - He asked quietly.
The man shrugged, biting his lower lip. - I'm just wondering if you're as okay as you try to make me believe. - It was but a low murmur. - You look pale.
- Tha mi math, Peb. [1] - snapped the priest, shrugging, not realizing he hadn't spoken English.
Unlike Peb, who had suddenly turned very serious. - What!? - He blinked, perplexed, and stood up to grab the priest's face. - Mirror… what kind of language was that!?
The man of church stared at him, confused. - What language? - He asked, feeling his friend shaking.
Peb's arms fell limp to his sides. - Mirror… - He gulped, backing away slowly. - … You can't not have heard what you've said and in what language.
The priest looked at him for a while, not understanding his behavior. Once again, he heard that voice ordering him to go. He ignored it, without looking away from his friend.
- Peb, I spoke as I always do. - He said, perfectly calm despite the voice hammering in his mind, as he slowly stood. - And I also have an urgent matter to solve. - He grabbed on the pendant on his chest, taking a deep breath. - I plan to go to the mansion, Peb. - His tone was quiet, almost not his usual one, as he walked to the door. - You're with me?
The son of the Mayor temporarily forgot the strange talk of the priest, shaking to walk up to him quickly, placing one hand on his shoulder. - Are you crazy? You can't go at this hour! - He exclaimed, in shock. - I can't let you go, Mirror! I can't! I don't want to lose you too!
- And what do you plan to do to stop me? - He asked calmly. Without an answer, he opened the door, smiling bitterly at his friend. - Farewell, Peb.
He left the church followed by the man's protests, and began to ran towards the center of the forest, without stopping, not looking back. He knew he wouldn't have continued, had he turned. He still wondered what had gone through his mind. Maybe, deep inside, he believed to Peb's words. It was his fault if those vampires had killed so many people.
And, if he was the true prey, he would've served their desired meal over a silver plate. Maybe it was also because of the voice he had heard, so pleading and imperative at the same time, asking him to go. The reason would've become clear once arrived.
Le tree fronds seemed to be closing in over him, night almost completely over the sky above, bringing the first candid snowflakes. Careful not to trip in the roots, he quickly arrived into the clearing, where he stopped to catch some breath, looking up to check his surroundings. A breeze forced him to close his eyes, and when he opened them again, the moonlight peeking through the clouds lit the features of the vampire standing before him.
Shorter than him, yet sinuous, he vaguely resembled an angel.
An angel of death. Of terror.
He was the incarnation of terrestrial fear, of everything a human being could dread.
To cross his gaze meant to part from life itself.
Those hypnotic vivid blue eyes were intensely magnetic; they had the power to make one forget their identity and thoughts.
Even forget what was about to happen to them.
But that was not enough to wish to gaze away from them.
They'd attract you against your will.
It was like to be bound by something ferocious and powerful that had been waiting for nothing else but your death.
A joyless smile surfaced on the creature's lips, showing white canines.
- I've been waiting for you, Father.
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[1] I'm all right, Peb. (Bastokan)
last edited 631 weeks ago by Blue KJ
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
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632 weeks ago