Blood of Your Blood [Isabella]

[Alaric von der Marck]

The words hit him like a wave of numbing cold; sound muffled in his ears as, for a moment, he lost his senses. What he had thought he was imagining Isabella had just confirmed. Isabella. Finally, he had a name. He had a face. All of it neatly fit together, and though he would not have been able to explain why, he simply knew just by looking at her that Isabella was telling the truth. Whether or not he could trust her, he did not know – he did not have the evidence for it.

Nor did he really know how to feel. What to feel. All these years and he had pushed past the curiosity about his sire. He had thanked her for saving his life, often enough, though in the beginning he wanted only to curse her. Her intentions were noble, but he had often found himself making lists of pros and cons. Now, he knew her name. And he knew that turning him was not her intention. His heart keened in his chest just imagining what life might have been like had he simply healed and remained human. He would be long dead, now. But his life would have been full.

Perhaps his Anja could have lived.

Dumbly, without words, Alaric nodded to Isabella’s suggestion that they move somewhere quieter. She did not look as if she were going to take him inside to kill him. But even if she were, it was a chance he would have taken regardless.

He had found his sire. And he would know her, whatever it cost.

[Isabella Drake]

The softest smile fell over her lips even though her sorrow could now be masked. Her heart was ripping apart. She has created another and was not there. She knew the fear that came with new abilities and the loss of others. Nothing mattered to her right now but this Childe lost to her.

She placed her tiny hands in his and walked with him. The tower was only across the street. It seemed no time that Isabella had lead him towards the lift. Her eyes constantly on him. She was far to curious about his life both human and immortal. Isabella was not known for creating making male heirs. An accident here or there; none were by choice. It seemed she were cursed.

When the doors opened on the 9th floor, Isabella moved to exit and spoke softly to him. “Neun hundert und vier .” [translation nine hundred and four.] Taking him by the hand Bella guided him to the door. She lifted her right hand as if asking him to wait. She stepped through and spoke. “Bitte kommen Sie.”[Please come in.]

Too quickly she stepped back and held the door open for him.

[Alaric von der Marck]

Alaric stared at their joined hands even as he was led back across the street. It might have looked strange to onlookers – this big man being led by the hand by such a small woman, stumbling along behind her like a child in a grown man’s body. And yet he was too bewildered, too shocked to do anything about it. Numb, due to what he had just learned, Alaric followed Isabella into the little metal box, only really coming to his senses when the doors closed. Trapped inside, the confusion thrilled, his hand taken back into his own possession, body straightening as he took a step toward the closed doors.

Was it all a trap?

As soon as the elevator jolted and began to lift, a strangled cry broke from his lips, body slamming against the walls, fingers gripping the rails. Before he could gather his wits enough to ask what kind of devilry she had led him into, the doors had opened again. Without hesitation, Alaric was out in the hallway, bolting from the magic box as fast as he could.

Still shaken, Alaric entered Isabella’s apartment with obvious trepidation. The gleaming white surfaces hit him like sunlight and he winced, but would adjust. He preferred brightness to the dark. His attention immediately went to the big double doors that led out to the balcony; they were high up. The magic box had transported them from the ground to here… but the woman nearby was far more pressing than the view.

“ Ich habe für eine sehr lange Zeit tot,“ he said without blinking.

“ Alles ist noch sehr neu ...“ he added, as if he had to apologise for his odd behavior. Though it all seemed to pale in comparison to this, to her. His sire. And now that he was standing in front of her, he was at a loss as to what to say.

TRANSLATION: * “I have been dead a very long time.“
** “Everything is still very new...“

[Isabella Drake]

A soft smile splayed over Isabella's mouth. She was taking genuine pleasure in leading him to safety; this was an act she would have done centuries ago. She knew that once they were alone, he could attempt to end her life but it was an act that she needed to offer.

Totally caught off guard Bella failed again. This time she failed to realize he would not like the elevator motion. However before given too much time to react the door opened. Nodding to him, Isabella moved to the apartment. Watching as he entered and made way to the balcony, she closed the door .

His words made perfect sense. Isabella walked behind him and placed a small palm on his back. “Ich bin auch traurig. Die neuen Erfindungen sind so natürlich für mich geworden.” [Translation: I again, am sorry. The new inventions have become so natural to me.]

The night skyline was her favorite view when she needed a place to reflect. Her dark eyes poured over every inch of his face again. She found herself walking to hold the guard railing. She reached out touched his hand, whispering as she left the night to reenter her living room.

“Ich bin älter als alle die ich kenne.” [Translation: I am older than and I know.”

Isabella sat quietly on her sofa and waited for him to join her.

[Alaric von der Marck]

It wasn’t just the new inventions that threw Alaric off. It wasn’t just the electricity or the gadgets or the magic boxes. Knowledge had crept forward at an alarming rate; science, previously known as just philosophy, had proceeded in leaps and bounds. Alaric had so much reading to do, so much to catch up on. If he had given up on God while still within his human lifetime, he now did not think that God could possibly exist. There was no God. Humanity was its own God. Humans were not ants to be squashed beneath the toes of the immortal; humans were the future. They built cities on top of cities, they forged forward with knowledge as their fuel.

And here Alaric stood at the heights, staring over a city filled with wonders. And behind him sat the past.

Isabella claimed to be older than everyone she knew, and it was Alaric’s turn to take in every small feature of her face. She looked so young! And yet, he couldn’t help but imagine what might have been different had he been with her from the start. Slowly, he made his way to the couch and sat down next to Isabella, turned so that he could face her.

“Haben Sie ... wie alt bist du? Was habe ich verpasst, in den Tod?“ he asked. He did not know that she had died along with the rest of them. For all he knew, she’d been alive since the beginning of time.

TRANSLATION: “Did you... how old are you? What have I missed, in death?“

[Isabella Drake]

His question caused her to reflect on the past. Turning to look at him she reached and took his hand. Isabella sought composure and took a deep unneeded breath. “

“Ich bin nicht der erste der Art. Ich bin geboren im Jahr 1489 menschlichen. Mein Leben war bis 1506, wenn ich behauptete, war, eher bezaubernd. Ich war mit Zweck erstellt. Mein Vater war streng und Heck, er nicht mehr überlebt. Im Jahre 1813 wurden wir alle gelöscht. Es gab ein paar von uns, die die Schatten im Jahr 2011 zu entkommen. "Ich bin der älteste von denen.”

She hoped that she had explained herself and her story as best as she could. She knew that her German was atrocious and hoped that communication would ease.

"Ich wollte immer nur heilen Sie in dieser Nacht, Sie nicht dieses ewige Elend aufdrängen. Ich hoffe, dass du mir verzeihen können. Bitte, sag mir deinen Namen?"

A perplexed expression formed and her lips twisted. After giving great thought to his final question

"Dieser Welt entwickelte sich schneller als ich hätte vorstellen können. Krieg, Waffen, hasse... Alles ändert sich, aber am Ende bleibt alles gleich. "Dinge schneller, lauter, heller, aber am Ende hat es die gleiche Wirkung."

Isabella reached and took a small black box from the table and pointed to the fireplace in the corner of the room. She nodded for him to watch as she pressed a button. After the fire vanished she handed him the remote and waited for his reaction.

"I am not the first of out kind. I was born human in 1489. My life was rather enchanting until 1506 when I was claimed. I was created with purpose. My Sire was strict and stern, he no longer survives. In 1813 we were all purged. There were a few of us that escaped the shadows in 2011. I am the eldest of those.”

“I only ever meant to heal you that night, not force this eternal misery upon you. I hope you can forgive me. Please, tell me your name?”

“This world has evolved more quickly than I could have imagined. War, weapons, hate... Everything changes but in the end it all stays the same. Things get faster, louder, brighter but in the end it has the same effect.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

The physical contact was not expected; Alaric stared at their hands, his much larger than hers. Where once his skin had been rough with hard work, over time they had become smooth like stone. The skin remained hardened, but it had become timeless.

“Mein Name ist Alaric,” he said, tearing his eyes from their hands.

“Krieg, es ist ewig, wie wir sind,“ he said, eyes glazed as history flashed through his memory. “Es wird immer Krieg. Es ist kein Thema,“ he said. He was not interested in war, not right now. Eventually he would come up to speed with the wars that had ravaged the countries, and the way his own nationality was so coloured by acts of disgrace. For now, he was only interested in Isabella.

“Es war 1794, als ich starb. Ich habe menschliche Familie, Blut meines Blutes, brachten sie mich zurück. Ohne sie wäre ich immer noch verloren,” he said, sharing some of his history as Isabella had shared hers. It was only skimming the surface. There was still so much. So much…

For a few moments he couldn’t say anything. History came crashing back. Misery, she said, and he wanted to tell her that it wasn’t all misery. Which was true. There had been moments of clarity, moments of surprising serenity. When one could take oneself out of time, when one could stand on the outskirts, the role of voyeur was taken. Passive observation could be relaxing.

“Sie, Ihr Vater - wie alt waren sie? Gibt es einen Ursprung? Gibt es einen Grund für unsere Existenz?” he asked. When there was so much that he could have asked, these were questions that had plagued him for centuries – he couldn’t not ask them.

TRANSLATION: * “My name is Alaric von der Marck.”
** “War, it is eternal, as we are.” “There will always be war. It is not an issue.”
*** “It was 1794, when I died. I have human family, blood of my blood, they brought me back. Without them, I would still be lost.”
**** “You, your sire -- how old were they? Is there an origin? Is there a reason for our existence?”

[Isabella Drake]

With his name Isabella, moved her lips as if to silently speak his name. She had a Childe, an unknown son and he had waited centuries to know her. Now she needed to know him as well. He had too many questions to be concerned with the fire magic of the remote. She smiled and looked deep into his eyes. His questions were welcomed; she could tell they were based on true desire to know.

"Meinem Schöpfer, er alt war... sehr alt. Ich lernte Dinge, die er nie dazu gedacht, zu rutschen. Er Klang Deutsch. Aber in Wahrheit habe ich gelernt, war er antiken römischen. Er erzählte mir nie, wie er gemacht wurde oder wenn er die Bedeutung dieser kannte. Ich war jung und naiv, ich nie in Frage gestellt, seine Macht über mich."

“My maker, he was old.... very old. I learned things that he never meant to slip. He sounded German. Though in truth, I learned he was Ancient Roman. He never told me how he was made or if he knew the meaning of this. I was young and naive, I never questioned his power over me.”

A soft eased smiled played over her lips as she felt comforted by his curiosity.

"Ich habe kein Menschenblut auf dieser Welt hinterlassen. Ich war nicht mit Kindern gesegnet. Allerdings war jahrhundertelang ich bewusst von anderen aus meiner Familie.

“I have no human blood left on this world. I was not blessed with children. Though, for centuries I was aware of others from my family.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

Isabella seemed so remorseful, so utterly guilty for doing what she had to Alaric, he wasn’t sure whether he should tell her that he’d had children when he’d ‘died’. Three small children whom he was forced to abandon because he was unable to control himself, and the townsfolk were becoming suspicious. Not only that, but he hadn’t trusted himself that he wouldn’t, in an hour of desperate thirst, hurt his family.

He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself.

“Ich habe ein grundstück. Es gibt gründe. Alles ist vor allem wie ich es verlassen,“ he said. It was a home base, and a sanctuary – the latter more so than the former. It was the place to which Alaric fled – the one place he would flee to after this meeting was over. The city was far too overwhelming. Even now he could hear the sirens, he could hear the cars down below and their horns. The sound of revelry punctuated the air, drifting to them through the open porch doors doors. It had Alaric constantly glancing out into the night, as if he expected the noise and the chaos to suddenly come crashing in.

“Du wirst willkommen sein. Sie werden meine Familie zu treffen?” he asked. He had given up, had never expected that he would meet his maker. Despite the fact that she did not know the origins of their species, there’d be plenty else that she would know. There were questions Alaric had, so many that he couldn’t focus on a single one right now. He was still absorbing the shock.

Rather than tell her about the children he had abandoned, he instead referred to those distant children now alive. The children of his children. Despite his wrongdoings, everything had turned out fine. They had lived their lives. In the end, he had been forgiven. There was no point in dwelling on the pain.

TRANSLATION: * “I have an estate. There are grounds. Everything is mostly how I left it.“
** “You will be welcome. You will meet my family?“

[Isabella Drake]

She watched and listened to him. It seemed that interaction was what she needed to be as normal as she ever saw herself being again. He offered her refuge in his estate. She smiled and nodded. He was lucky. Her estate had been defiled and corrupted. It pained her to see her once impressive and courtly estate in ruins now. It was not within her ability to return it to its former grandeur.

“Ich fühle mich geehrt, in Ihrem Haus zu begrüßen. Ich werde gerne Ihre Nachkommen treffen.”
She hesitated for a moment and then asked a ridiculous question. "Sie wissen? Was du bist?"

Translation: “I am honoured to be welcomed in your home. I will gladly meet your descendants.”

“They know? What you are?”