Date: 6/11/2001 11:04 PM Central Daylight Time
From: AngelinaDarkling
The evening was cool, the light dim as the moon had already gone to bed hours before. Her mind rested as did her appetite, the evening had been fulfilling. Arianna had brought home a new plaything, and although her own addendum had gone missing, they made due with the three of them that night. The other two rested now, but Angel was not one for letting moments of darkness slip by ... not in the summer when her
allotted time out of doors was cut so short.
Wrapped in a long, silky black cloak, she perched in the alcoves of a crennelation adorning one of the inns along Main Row. Unless one was searching for her, they might be hard put to distinguish her crouching form from that of the stone gargoyle she leaned against ... that is, if her hair wasn't whipping about so in the stiff breeze that inhabited these high places.
For a moment she allowed herself to once again be that creature, above reproach, above the peasantry that scurried below her. Anything that moved underneath was either food, or an object to be manipulated to suit any of her other impulses. She was a creature apart from the world.
But then she dropped, scuffing softly to the pavement below by virtue of her long-standing heritage. She walked among the few still prancing about on the roads at this hour, one with them, a part of society. She wore clothes like them, spoke and laughed like them, satiated her lust like them.
Either face suited her, for she relished the variety. She was, truth be known, very old even by vampire standards ... there was little new this life could show her. So it was, to live in the moment, to fulfill the very impulses and lusts that drove either part of her desires ... that was her reason for life.
Of course, sacrifices must be made to suit her lifestyle. Unfortunate sacrifices, on the part of others. It was one such other that passed quietly by, headed in the opposite direction of traffic from the splendidly dressed woman. As he did so, crawling silver across his gloves caught the stray light from an inn beacon momentarily, token to his swift movement.
Angel fell there, the screech dead upon her lips ... she hadn't even the time for an intake of breath. Crimson hair cascaded all about, her cloak cast off by the wind. Equally crimson was the blood staining her white suit as it spread from the puncture, its center a wooden spike protruding from her chest.
In all ways, unexpected.
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Re: In all ways, unexpected.
Date: 6/13/2001 9:26 PM Central Daylight Time
From: AngelinaDarkling
There was no sifting of ash, no spontaneous combustion, nothing of the sort most associated with the death of vampires. She lay there, silently bleeding, while the late-night denizens swirled uncaringly by. It was just another body in the street, no unique sight.
But this body moved. Fitfully at first; a twitch of fingers, a shifting of lips... all prequel to that shriek of agony that finally sliced the thin early morning air.
Her body spasmodically folded to the fetal position as she rolled to her side, her hands curled, trembling, into her chest as she sought to pull new air into a punctured lung. Tears welled up and fell to the parched pavement as her left hand caught hold of the bit of shaft left protruding from her sternum.
A coughing, anguished stutter of her torn voice heralded a sharp twist of the spike, and another, and another. She worked it loose from bits of splintered bone and let it clatter to the ground with a hard clacking. Her hand was dripping in thick crimson.
Turning further, she gained all fours, from there her feet. With her right wrist pressed into the wound in her chest to stem the main tide of bleeding, as her hands felt chilled and too weak to try and hold anything to the gaping rent, she grimly set her eyes to the nearest door.
Progress came agonizingly slowly, each step a lesson in willpower and balance. It was a race, she knew not how much time until the sun came by to truly finish her, she must make it to the sanctuary of shade.
As it was, she had plenty of time to get there. But once she had made it to the side of the doorway and to a safe distance from the portal, she broke into choked sobs, sliding down the wall (and leaving a smeared red trail upon it) to sit in a heap against it, her arm clutched with all remaining strength against her, fingers curled about her own shoulder to keep it clamped securely.
From: AngelinaDarkling
There was no sifting of ash, no spontaneous combustion, nothing of the sort most associated with the death of vampires. She lay there, silently bleeding, while the late-night denizens swirled uncaringly by. It was just another body in the street, no unique sight.
But this body moved. Fitfully at first; a twitch of fingers, a shifting of lips... all prequel to that shriek of agony that finally sliced the thin early morning air.
Her body spasmodically folded to the fetal position as she rolled to her side, her hands curled, trembling, into her chest as she sought to pull new air into a punctured lung. Tears welled up and fell to the parched pavement as her left hand caught hold of the bit of shaft left protruding from her sternum.
A coughing, anguished stutter of her torn voice heralded a sharp twist of the spike, and another, and another. She worked it loose from bits of splintered bone and let it clatter to the ground with a hard clacking. Her hand was dripping in thick crimson.
Turning further, she gained all fours, from there her feet. With her right wrist pressed into the wound in her chest to stem the main tide of bleeding, as her hands felt chilled and too weak to try and hold anything to the gaping rent, she grimly set her eyes to the nearest door.
Progress came agonizingly slowly, each step a lesson in willpower and balance. It was a race, she knew not how much time until the sun came by to truly finish her, she must make it to the sanctuary of shade.
As it was, she had plenty of time to get there. But once she had made it to the side of the doorway and to a safe distance from the portal, she broke into choked sobs, sliding down the wall (and leaving a smeared red trail upon it) to sit in a heap against it, her arm clutched with all remaining strength against her, fingers curled about her own shoulder to keep it clamped securely.