Fingers carefully tied the white cloth into place.
She had gone through the process of wiping away the mixture of blood and vitreous humor from her cheeks and jaw, from the steady drip drip drip off of her chin. The fluids had splattered on her dress, so she had changed her clothes. Prudence had been so kind as to restore the blood she had loss, for which she was thankful for. She had shown her gratitude both in word and in the subtle squeezing of the other woman’s hand when she had been lost her sight and needed to find a way to stand. In her room, she had healed the physical damage done, but to her surprise, she still could not see very well. She could make out things like motion and the shifting of shadows around her, but that glowing golden face was etched into her brain in an inescapable way.
Golden bands were curled up her arms all of the way to the elbow, crossed over each other to hold palm pads in place – the function of which were to make it so she could quickly and effectively maneuver her sword’s grip without creating friction. The bands on her arms just offered a little bit of extra support. Her skirt was shorter than she normally wore – mainly so that she could keep her full range of motion – and the sides were split, held together by strands of a darker fabric. She appeared almost like a mesh of the modern with the classic, Greecian goddess and contemporary femme fatale. Hair was pulled back and pleated so that it would not get in the way, and she wore heavy boots as opposed to heels. Her sword was strapped to her side when she returned, blindfold over her eyes so that the other women would not see the tenderness underneath.
She was all business once more. As if the ‘attack’ had never happened. Carry on. She wasn’t about to let personal **** get in the way of her performance, and so when she was back in the main room, she began to hand out orders. “Prudence, my beautiful.” She began. “I’m not sure what the status is with DD and CC, but if you could directly call her or text her to update her on what’s going on, I think she would be interested to join us.” Superbia knew that there had been a tiny bit of bad blood between the two sparkle vamps (as Prudence called them), but Bee also knew that the bond between sire and childe was far more complex than most of the younger vampire generation could really understand. It was easy to be pissed at someone one moment, and then, when faced with their demise, to be at their back. Protecting.
“Does anyone here have any gift with computers?” She asked. Almost as if she could see, her false gaze settled upon Charlie. Maybe it was intuition – or maybe just mere coincidence. “If there is, I’d like for you to cross reference buildings in this area with Greco-Roman architecture, which also employed the use of Talai tiles. Maybe they will have mosaics. There should be a description of the buildings through the Department of Building and Zoning. If we are lucky, the Town Hall’s server will be accessible, and those files will be digital. Otherwise, we’ll need to break in.” She let her shoulders roll back as her hands came together. She had to take in a deep breath, only to exhale a moment later. She didn’t feel like she was strong enough to do everything that was required, and so she leaned into Every. The touch was brief, but it spoke volumes. Superbia trusted the women she was with. Even blind. They were her family, and that meant she knew they would support her just as she supported them.
“Whoever they are…it was. They know that we are coming. We have lost the element of surprise. They have something very old, very powerful on their side, and it is what did this to me. I don’t know what to expect, but it was like looking into the sun. We are facing something none of us have ever come into contact with before, and I can’t promise we’ll come out on the other side unscathed. This is no longer an issue of vampire versus human. The danger is very real.” She paused, her jaw setting. She was going to say something along the lines of ‘I don’t expect anyone to come who might be afraid’, but instead she said “I will be going in regardless.”
And she left it at that.
The being of light and silence had spoken to him, whispered thoughts into his head in the form of images which flashed across his brain and dripped through his synapses. He could see them, a group of women who were all gathered in an apartment. He could see them for what they really were. Underneath the glamour of pretty flesh, they were monsters. He saw their decrepit spirits, and the fangs they used to siphon energy off of the living. They were parasites, spreading a disease. He had nothing but contempt for them. His hatred burned like a fire in the base of his spine.
It had been a year and a half prior when he and his wife had been walking home from the movies. They had been attacked, and where he had made it out alive (albeit in, intensive care), she had been killed. He had remembered every moment of it, the experience darkening his view of the vampires. He had done research, found ways to kill them. He’d hunted the weaker of the beings down, but like a kid dressed up as a super hero, he hadn’t been able to much more than scratch the surface. That is until he’d gone into the forest to pray. Light had poured down on him, had told him the path he should take, given him the names of other men to find.
He had been given the ultimate plan.
“Sir. The prisoners are growing restless.” He heard as he glanced up from where he had been knelt in prayer. There was a seraphim of pure gold, a statue with arms stretched up towards the heavens just under a skylight. Macintosh used the room for his personal meditation. He grunted, disliking having his thoughts interrupted.
“Take one of them out and beat them then. Make sure the others are watching. It’s called making an example. I should not have to tell you how to guard some monsters, Uriah.” The man said. He waved a hand. The matter would be ‘dealt with’.
She had gone through the process of wiping away the mixture of blood and vitreous humor from her cheeks and jaw, from the steady drip drip drip off of her chin. The fluids had splattered on her dress, so she had changed her clothes. Prudence had been so kind as to restore the blood she had loss, for which she was thankful for. She had shown her gratitude both in word and in the subtle squeezing of the other woman’s hand when she had been lost her sight and needed to find a way to stand. In her room, she had healed the physical damage done, but to her surprise, she still could not see very well. She could make out things like motion and the shifting of shadows around her, but that glowing golden face was etched into her brain in an inescapable way.
Golden bands were curled up her arms all of the way to the elbow, crossed over each other to hold palm pads in place – the function of which were to make it so she could quickly and effectively maneuver her sword’s grip without creating friction. The bands on her arms just offered a little bit of extra support. Her skirt was shorter than she normally wore – mainly so that she could keep her full range of motion – and the sides were split, held together by strands of a darker fabric. She appeared almost like a mesh of the modern with the classic, Greecian goddess and contemporary femme fatale. Hair was pulled back and pleated so that it would not get in the way, and she wore heavy boots as opposed to heels. Her sword was strapped to her side when she returned, blindfold over her eyes so that the other women would not see the tenderness underneath.
She was all business once more. As if the ‘attack’ had never happened. Carry on. She wasn’t about to let personal **** get in the way of her performance, and so when she was back in the main room, she began to hand out orders. “Prudence, my beautiful.” She began. “I’m not sure what the status is with DD and CC, but if you could directly call her or text her to update her on what’s going on, I think she would be interested to join us.” Superbia knew that there had been a tiny bit of bad blood between the two sparkle vamps (as Prudence called them), but Bee also knew that the bond between sire and childe was far more complex than most of the younger vampire generation could really understand. It was easy to be pissed at someone one moment, and then, when faced with their demise, to be at their back. Protecting.
“Does anyone here have any gift with computers?” She asked. Almost as if she could see, her false gaze settled upon Charlie. Maybe it was intuition – or maybe just mere coincidence. “If there is, I’d like for you to cross reference buildings in this area with Greco-Roman architecture, which also employed the use of Talai tiles. Maybe they will have mosaics. There should be a description of the buildings through the Department of Building and Zoning. If we are lucky, the Town Hall’s server will be accessible, and those files will be digital. Otherwise, we’ll need to break in.” She let her shoulders roll back as her hands came together. She had to take in a deep breath, only to exhale a moment later. She didn’t feel like she was strong enough to do everything that was required, and so she leaned into Every. The touch was brief, but it spoke volumes. Superbia trusted the women she was with. Even blind. They were her family, and that meant she knew they would support her just as she supported them.
“Whoever they are…it was. They know that we are coming. We have lost the element of surprise. They have something very old, very powerful on their side, and it is what did this to me. I don’t know what to expect, but it was like looking into the sun. We are facing something none of us have ever come into contact with before, and I can’t promise we’ll come out on the other side unscathed. This is no longer an issue of vampire versus human. The danger is very real.” She paused, her jaw setting. She was going to say something along the lines of ‘I don’t expect anyone to come who might be afraid’, but instead she said “I will be going in regardless.”
And she left it at that.
The being of light and silence had spoken to him, whispered thoughts into his head in the form of images which flashed across his brain and dripped through his synapses. He could see them, a group of women who were all gathered in an apartment. He could see them for what they really were. Underneath the glamour of pretty flesh, they were monsters. He saw their decrepit spirits, and the fangs they used to siphon energy off of the living. They were parasites, spreading a disease. He had nothing but contempt for them. His hatred burned like a fire in the base of his spine.
It had been a year and a half prior when he and his wife had been walking home from the movies. They had been attacked, and where he had made it out alive (albeit in, intensive care), she had been killed. He had remembered every moment of it, the experience darkening his view of the vampires. He had done research, found ways to kill them. He’d hunted the weaker of the beings down, but like a kid dressed up as a super hero, he hadn’t been able to much more than scratch the surface. That is until he’d gone into the forest to pray. Light had poured down on him, had told him the path he should take, given him the names of other men to find.
He had been given the ultimate plan.
“Sir. The prisoners are growing restless.” He heard as he glanced up from where he had been knelt in prayer. There was a seraphim of pure gold, a statue with arms stretched up towards the heavens just under a skylight. Macintosh used the room for his personal meditation. He grunted, disliking having his thoughts interrupted.
“Take one of them out and beat them then. Make sure the others are watching. It’s called making an example. I should not have to tell you how to guard some monsters, Uriah.” The man said. He waved a hand. The matter would be ‘dealt with’.
