Path of the Vampire forum

The young Telepath was agitated. He loathed being awake and was dissatisfied with reality beyond his own imaginings. It was just better to sleep, to dream, and to believe in a world that had no restrictions. In his head, the long since deceased and the freshly born could exist simultaneously. In his head, the sky could be pink and the stars could be neon beams of light that would summon him onto their alien worlds with just a wish. And in his head, all manner of fauna and flora frolicked with sublime sentience, inviting him to tea parties and raves that had no end. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t control the events or that few of them made any kind of sense, being in his own mind was just far more entertaining than being in the real world. Nevertheless, Myk woke against his will each time the sun would set.

On this night, he woke feeling sore, groggy, and rather warm. In fact, he was unnervingly hot as if he had been shut into an oven during his sleep. The air was thick and smelt funny, like breathing in lavender soup, and he coughed as he sat up; his eyes adjusting to the dreary dark. To his surprise and confusion, he found his surroundings spacious and absurdly normal. It was a bedroom festooned with all the typical features: a leather sleigh bed with a side table and lamps on either side, a fitted wardrobe with mirrored doors reflecting back at him, and a partially open door that led away to an ensuite. The lights were off, but Myk could hear the sound of a dripping tap over a wide basin. The pops of water bouncing off the ceramic surface were in tandem to the ticking of the clock above his head.

On the second survey of the room, Myk noticed that there was a second door past the wardrobe; a door that purportedly led into a hallway and eventually to an escape. There was a light on behind that door, but it did not look overly beckoning. The faint sound of footsteps also came to the Telepath’s attention, particularly when they approached the door and halted. He felt like he was being studied. Myk shifted, his left arm finding extra ground across the space of the bed. It was when his palm fell flat across the duvet that he noticed how much cooler and differently textured the space was. Lifting his hand away seemed to take some of the cotton material with it too, provoking the impression of stepping in gum. Myk looked down, first to inspect his paw and then to inspect the bed. His pretty facial features knotted into a look of disgust when he realised what had pooled on the bed.

“Eww,” the Telepath growled.

Not wanting to look at the puddle of grey-green slime with floating, fleshy white chunks any longer, he folded the duvet over and skipped off the bed. When his bare feet hit the floor and he felt the shag carpet compress between his toes, he finally decided to perform a self-scan. Although his shoes were missing – and he never, if rarely wore socks – he was relieved to find himself still otherwise outfitted in what looked to be something he would pick out for himself. Of course he was dressed all in black. His shirt buttoned to the neck with a stiff, tight collar, and clad his torso and arms like a second skin woven with jacquard embroidery. His trousers were equally well-fitted; the faux leather added its own flattering texture around his androgynous curves. And while Myk had no idea about the state of his make-up, he was at least able to detect his hair. The platinum locks fell over each shoulder and down to his navel in beachy waves, but were somewhat frazzled at the back by a day’s sleep.

Satisfied, but still very much confused and nauseated, Myk’s very next priority was to wash off his hand. He was at the sink, scrubbing his skin into a rosy hue by the time the door to the bedroom opened. The sounds of footsteps were barely audible past the running water, but he had heard them early enough to look the person dead in the eye when they came into view. He was actually surprised to find that he was standing – face to shoulder height – with a young woman.

“Oh, you’re awake now,” she murmured.

Her voice had a glassy quality to it and the way she hid behind her long auburn hair reminded him of a porcelain doll he once knew. He’d called her Brandy and she was apparently haunted. That same dull yet impassioned stare could be seen in the eyes of the Human equivalent. Myk hadn’t noticed how much he had tensed until he opened his mouth to say something and found the process somewhat difficult.

“Obviously,” he said snarkily. “I’m not sleepwalking.”

She cowered and Myk’s nose twitched nervously. He turned off the faucet and then sighed; but he doesn’t take his pewter eyes from her.

“How did I get here exactly?” he asked.

“Well, you kind of… broke in.”

“Broke in?” he parroted, his neck canting. He wasn’t sure he believed her. “And you didn’t call the police?”

She giggled at that. Myk arched a single, sculpted brow.

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh…”

As his velvety voice purred into silence, it finally clicked. Myk understood now why he was here and how he would have to leave this place. He understood that Brandy the living doll had long ago lost her marbles. Perhaps he should have been empathetic, and perhaps he was, because his immediate reaction was to seize her throat. Pewter eyes swallowed up the vision of green orbs and pale skin paling further with shock, and watched how those plain features became ugly with anger, confusion, and pain. She gasped and fought, but even his smaller hand was able to wrap around her trachea and squeeze with very little effort. Myk felt the tugging heat of her skin bruising under his grip and the bite of fingernails as she struggled; he savoured the moment of pure strength for a moment longer before thrusting her into the wall. The mirror cracked as the back of her skull impacted with the glass. He brought her toward him a few scant inches, lifting away shards of glass that clattered to the floor, saw the patch of blood, then thrust her into the same wall. This time, the tiles around the mirror splintered too and her eyes rolled back into her head.

Despite the forceful collisions with the wall, Myk still felt the woman’s heart desperately trying to push blood past his hand. He released his grip and once she had slumped against the floor and the wall, he realised that she looked more like the porcelain Brandy now more than ever. She too would come back to haunt him if he didn’t deal with her. He took a piece of the broken mirror as he knelt down beside her. As he slit her throat, he placed a hand on her forehead in a soothing manner and cooed. The Vampire relaxed into the choking, gasping sounds that gurgled through the crimson trench in her neck. She bled out in moments, redecorating the white room with a deep scarlet. He waited until her heart stopped beating before he stepped away from her corpse. After washing off the blood on his hands, Myk found his boots tucked in beside the bed, put them on, and swiftly left the house.

What a way to start the night…

Time ticked by without the woman ever realizing just how much had passed by her. Things and people faded into distant, hazy memories that drifted just out reach if one tried to reach for them. If they had been physical beings or objects the fingertips of the reacher would just barely graze them, lightly caress the skin as they drifted ever further away. Jezebel, or Jeze as most would have normally called her, was certain that there were people and events that had long since disappeared from her memory that left her feeling somewhat happier without the recollection of their existence.

The manor had fallen into a state of disrepair while its owner sealed herself away in a self-imposed isolation. Abigail, the Necro’s lovely servant, did her best to maintain everything, including the destructive forces that were Trigger and Xander. There was only so much she could manage though, and the structure was just far too large for her handle on her own. Every once in a while the human had found herself banging on the door to her master’s room, screaming and begging for her to return. Those pleas fell on deaf ears.

Jezebel had locked herself away in the master bedroom. Oftentimes she just sat there in silence, staring blankly at a spider’s web. Every once in a while though, her lips would curl into a twisted grin as she watched the spider work; painstakingly trapping its prey and preventing escape before devouring what it needed to survive. Other times, she would stretch out on the bed and just sleep a dreamless sleep. Darkness enveloped her; welcomed her with open arms and the empty promise of peace just on the other side.

She wasted away in a sense. The ability to prevent such things was there, but the will to use it was not. Hunger, starvation really, ate at her every moment she was locked away. During the first few weeks or months, even the smallest change didn’t go unnoticed. Like the way the cats, just on the other side of the door, eventually gave up on trying to get in there with her; or the way the air staled. It didn’t take long for her to become accustomed to the eerie silence. Eventually even the gnawing hunger faded as she spent more and more time sleeping. The outside world didn’t need her. None of them, none of her own kind, needed or wanted her around. So why should the woman stay awake?

Perhaps the others had forgotten about her. Maybe she was just as distant of a memory to them as most of them were to her finally. There were a few though, a very small, select few that she went out of her way to keep alive in her memories. Did they forget though? One could only hope that was the case after all that time; and maybe, just maybe, it was time for her to reemerge.

It started off slowly. A subtle stirring. A twitch to be honest. Her finger twitched ever so slightly before she turned over. Part of her was afraid to open her eyes. What if she left the safety of her sanctuary only be greeted with the same glaring hate filled eyes that often met her gaze? What if she had managed to accomplish what she had wanted and become nothing more that a faded memory even to the ones she loved the most?

None of that mattered. It was time to leave. It took a great deal of effort for her to leave her spot. It had been so comfy there, but even that got old. Her bare feet touched the wood floor for the first time in a while, and the sensation was a mixture of foreign and familiar. It was nice though. Slowly, the small woman stood so she could cross the room to the nearest window. Even that short distance required a significant amount of energy that left her feeling spent. There was no way she was giving up that easily though. Still, she persisted and after a few moments Jeze managed to open the window to let some fresh air seep in at last.

The cool night air touched her skin; caressed it as a lover would after being apart. Out of everything she had did to make herself feel comfortable, the gentle breeze did more than anything else could have. Jeze reached for the brush on the nearby table. Tugging that thing through her tangled raven locks would be a fight, but a much needed and welcomed struggle. After some time struggling and the breaking of the brush handle, she had successfully tamed the black strands for the time being; at least until she washed up.

She had inched her way to the bathroom. The room quickly filled with steam as the tub filled. Even the heat felt amazing to her skin as she slid beneath the surface. Despite how tired the small woman felt, she scrubbed her body and washed her hair as though she was prepping for a big event. All the noise that came from the closed space was all Abigail needed in order to know she would soon be needed.

Jezebel spent so much time soaking in the water and washing that the water was already going cold by time she exited the bath. She wrapped a towel around her small, almost fragile, frame. It was soft, comforting even as she searched for suitable clothing. Water dripped from the tendril like locks onto the floor, leaving in her wake a trail of water, and the only proof of the almost erratic movements she made.

Everything she touched in the wardrobe reminded her of days long gone; of laughter, happiness, and of the eventual depression that claimed her so easily. She had friends, though very few, but to her, in a blink of an eye, everything she had ever wanted, needed, and dreamed of was ripped away. Slowly, over time, the Necromancer had withdrawn from everyone and everything with certainty that she wasn't wanted or needed.

The small goth yanked out a random band shirt, ripped black jeans, and boots. She would go shopping later for clothing that didn't remind her of what little bit of her past she could recall. Getting dressed was just as tiring as everything else she had managed to accomplish but her hunger gnawed at her. Her head was starting to pound from the hunger, and she knew that despite the pain she would still need to go out to feed; Abigail and her on and off again partner wouldn’t be able to get the Necromancer back to where she needed to be at without risking their own deaths. Jeze would not risk that for them, despite desperately needing to feed.

She paused for a moment, taking a break before moving on to lacing up the boots. It was a much needed break to stop the room from spinning. A few deep breaths out of habit and she was okay again, for the time being. It was time to press on and do everything else that needed to be done, not that she was prepared to venture out after all that time, but it was a necessity.

Abigail, meanwhile, had been rushing about doing her best to get things tidied up as best as she could after the last antics of the cats, and trying to get Jeze’s favorite tea prepared. The redhead knew the woman wouldn’t drink it but she did at least enjoy the aroma that came from the liquid. It was one of the few things that often helped ground her master and help her calm down when she felt like she was starving. There was one last thing for her to do to assure that the volatile creature remained as calm as possible upon her emergence, and that was to play music. Abigail rushed to turn on the violin music as she heard her master’s door opening.

The music started right on cue as Jeze stepped out of the room. Abigail muffled a startled gasp as her withered appearance as best as she could. The vampire paid no attention to the reaction as she followed what little bit she could remember of her routine that included going to the dining room to sit with the cup of tea for a bit, at least until it cooled off and the scent of it faded into a not so fond memory of her human years. Still, the music played softly in the background, acting as a soundtrack to her hazy thoughts. No doubt everything outside around her and the manor would have changed some, but she didn’t know to what extent. None of that mattered though. The only thing that truly mattered to the woman, was feeding; temporarily silencing the beast within so she could focus on getting everything back on track.

She didn’t sit at the table for long, probably no more than a couple of minutes before she was up and heading out the main entrance. The cool night air hit her face causing the small woman to pause so she could enjoy the way it felt.

“Will you be back before sunrise?” Abigail's voice called out to the Necro, but the question went unanswered. The door slammed shut behind her. “Well, fine then. I just wanted to know whether or not to wait up.” The redhead grumbled as she went on about her business.

Those first few steps out into such a public space were somewhat intimidating and daunting, but much needed nonetheless. She reminded herself quite often that all it took was one step in front of the other. At first, just like any other time she was out, she wandered aimlessly. Familiar paths and those not so familiar to her passed by with her barely noticing them at first.

Sounds of laughter and conversations soon caught her attention. A cafe or a bar. Either way, that meant people. People meant the possibility of a decent meal, but it also meant things could go horrible, horribly wrong.

Jeze found a seat near the building. Patience wasn't something she had much of anymore, or at the time, but it was a necessary evil if it meant surviving a bit longer. One hand found its way to her face as she propped her head up. Hopefully she wouldn't doze off while waiting for someone to stray from their group or for a drink to stumble out on their own.

((Sorry for any typos or anything like that. Most of this was done from my phone.))