Path of the Vampire forum

Photography had always been a secret passion of his. With the stampeding pace of the world and the pressure of age and forgetfulness marching mankind ever-forward, forever toward the edge, taking a photo was like creating an oasis in a desert. Looking at a captured moment was the equivalent glimpse of immortality and stillness in so much chaos. And for a time in his younger days, it had been the only opportunity he had to hold onto time, to sequester peace in his dangerous world. It didn’t matter what filled the Brazilian’s lens because he found beauty and interest in everything he would cast an eye over. Henry loved to watch and photograph people most of all, however. Action shots were his favourite; snaps of time where people weren’t prepared to have their soul encased in silver for all eternity. Henry liked it better when they didn’t pose, when they didn’t even know that there was a camera pointed at them.

He hadn’t shared this hobby with Elizabeth yet. At first he’d decided that it was too soon to share something that intimate with anyone. Later, it simply became a case of forgetting to mention it as he’d become enveloped in their fervor. Frankly, verbal communication hadn’t made up a great deal of the time they spent together. That didn’t mean that their relationship was trivial or superficial in the slightest, however. In truth, verbal communication takes up only a limited part of what two people share. Words pass information back and forth, but it's the body language and the way people touch that relayed true feeling. Henry felt so deeply for Elizabeth that it was hard to bear, yet he expressed it through a level of all-consuming attentiveness.

On one of those rare nights that the two were parted, the Brazilian had taken a walk around the docks between Coastside and Westwall with his vintage camera. After a little while of watching the Earth spin nonchalantly on its axis, Henry stopped at the promenade to admire how the inky water glistened, mirroring the dazzling assemblage of lights from the restaurants and designer boutiques that lined the lake’s edge. The night had dressed the city with unexpected beauty in the same way a black sequinned dress transformed a Plain Jane into a Femme Fatale. The Brazilian stared down at the waters of eternity, as if frozen alone in one of his photographs. It was an isolated concept until he remembered that he had new friends and family now. He hadn’t fully been able to exchange one for the other, but he was coming to accept the fact that his life had already made way for his afterlife. The mind is slow to accept death and the heart is a treacherous muscle that clings to old scars like they are fresh, still-weeping wounds.

It was a mark of the truly random nature of the world that not only allowed for every circumstance to exist, but for those circumstances to unite and/or divide mankind. Although it could be said that Vampires were no longer bound by the same rules of man, their psyche suggested something else. For it wasn’t as easy for man as it was the caterpillar: to let go of one life, one form, and one possibility in exchange for another. Man’s life, though invariably short, was not as short as the simple caterpillar’s. The life cycle of a moth or butterfly is a famous one: eggs hatch releasing caterpillars, which pupate to become adult moths or butterflies. The caterpillar stage in particular offers subtle lessons about the ecology and diversity of the estimated 20,000 living moth and butterfly species. Few generalisations can be made regarding the lifespan of such a large group because some species live mere days, and others live for more than a decade. Yet, the average life of a Human that transforms into a Vampire is roughly 25 years; the age where your average adult has started to settle into their own life, has a career, a lover or spouse, several ambitions, and maybe even children.

Henry was 26 years old now, but he’d been turned a year ago in March when he was visited upon by Emerald. He doubted that his sire, or indeed his childer, were much older at their respective turnings. Being one form and then being forced to evolve into another was very different to spending your entire life building yourself up to transform into something beautiful. And perhaps the greatest difference between mankind’s transformation into Vampirism and the caterpillar’s transformation into a butterfly is the choice. Not every Human becomes a Vampire, but every surviving grub will pupate. The life cycle for Vampires was brutal and not wholly necessary or exceptional. For Henry, however, the process was often involuntary, because unless he chose to murder every meal, he would ocassionally spawn another childe while feeding.

At that moment, his thoughts returned to those he’d turned without their consent. Mason had been the first and he’d been so startled by it that the only way he knew how to deal with it was to simply not deal with it. After a few months, he’d worked up the courage to face her, but all that bravado turned to silt and washed out of his hands when Henry laid his eyes on her. She’d seemed angry - not that he could blame her for that - so he bided his time until, within a blink of the eye, it had been several months more. Spotting her at the Roaring 20s party reminded him to try again and he’d been trying to find the right words ever since. He’d composed that letter maybe twenty times, but never sent it. Looking over it once more, the Brazilian decided to bite the bullet. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference at all, but there was only one way to find out.

---

Mason,

This is a long overdue apology. What happened to you that night, it was my fault, but it wasn’t my intention. I’ve been looking for the right way to approach you since I realised what had happened, and it turns out that there is no right way to do it.

You cannot apologise for taking someone’s life away. You cannot undo what has been done. The only thing that is left, the only thing I can offer as reparation, is a promise that you won’t have to go through it alone anymore.

Harper Rock is not a safe city and while my companionship might not mean much to you at this time, I do hope you can think it over and in time, we can greet each other as friends.

Sincerely,

Henry Craven.

---

Mason's tired eyes stared at the ceiling as she laid down as the sun got closer and close to rising. Her sword was still in her hand, her gun laid to the side. She just didn't feel like she had the energy. Rampage was not the right word here, but it was as close as one could come to. She was frustrated with her own existence and what she was, and no longer could be. Human, corrupted to this...creature. Unnatural being of eternity.

There would be no end. The very thing she once feared, was now no longer in her grasp. And yet...it hurt as much as her fear had. But this time, there was no change. There would be nothing to alter. No way she could find a way back. This was all she was no. Forever.

She didn't think of the little things often. Sure, the sun was the most obvious one would think of when turned. Yet, she rarely did. She couldn't eat regular food anymore, but thinking on it, had she ever really been that interested? Sure food was good, but it wasn't like she was starving now. She wasn't forced to feed on people which was a slight comfort. She could feed on animals, or pay people for their blood.

No, that wasn't it. It was like being abducted into the arms of the enemy. Called a citizen of a nation you were at war with. They couldn't make her fight. And yet merely being one of them hurt. And it would never change. She could only be as human of a vampire as she could be.

Her eyes were forced shut and the sword fell from her grasp as the sun crested, "Why...".
Her eyes opened, and she looked around the room. Listening. Not that there was anyone to listen for. Except maybe Warren. Man that guy was-"Fun little reading. I can see you grieving. Observe." she heard Warren's voice and rolled her eyes, she still couldn't see him. One day perhaps she could remedy that. "What do you want Warren." she asked sitting up and rubbing her eyes, stretching by instinct more than necessity.

She stared at the message. Furrowed brow. and clenched fist. Her word was quiet as she read the first paragraph, "Sire." it came out like a hiss, hurt and anger at once. But he was admitting guilt. And he was also admitting the importance of the change, of what had happened to her.

This wasn't a return policy. But...it was still an offer. She sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and looking at the letter, "Henry Craven" she repeated the name.

She heard a humm, Warren again. "A second long misstep traded for eternity." his voice was clearer than normal. Mason rubbed her forehead, "He's changed me forever. How can I forgive that."

"The past is limited. But the future will be forever." Warren spoke, "The sooner you make a mistake, the more of the past it will take up."

"So I should forgive him?"

She heard a laugh, she could practically feel him slipping away again, "It doesn't really matter. None of it does."

Mason groaned and stood up. "Fine." she said, "At least if I feel like it I can scream at him...or lop his head off." she didn't mean that last bit seriously...completely. She'd get herself ready for the day night.

Then came the first issue. How she should contact him. She really didn't care much right now, just get him to meet somewhere. That was all. Just do that, while she still had the resolve to do anything at all. She reached out telepathically to speak to him, "Just name somewhere to meet. I don't want to talk like this. If not, I'll be in the Quarantine Zone, Corvidae flats." she tried not to show any emotion in the...telepathic voice. If that was a thing people could hear. She never knew. She didn't care if he had the power or not. He'd answer one way or another, or he'd meet her there.

She wasn't sure if she cared or not how, or if, he responded. With that, she left. Her arms crossed as she crawled through the night making her way to Corvidae Flats in the Quarantine zone. Maybe she could kill something while she was there. Blow off steam. If she got a response back, then she'd just have to go there.

Screw it if it turned out to be a trap. At this point, she wasn't afraid of death.

There was silence and stillness that complemented the slow-rippling waters and the loafing breeze. Henry didn’t know what to expect of Mason, whether she’d reply or not, but he’d given them both the chance for closure and that was enough for him. It was the only olive branch he could pick up and offer, afterall. There was no way to undo what they’d become, to reverse the transformation, or to unstitch the tapestry of the past and make a better picture of the future. The past was as permanent as a photograph. Henry lifted the camera, squared his eye to the viewfinder, and framed the cityscape against the dark horizon and the jet waters. With a snap and a flash, the present was captured and preserved as a memory. A smile crossed his lips as the camera was lowered and he watched the past drift away as clouds scooted across the horizon. Was he asking too much by seeking forgiveness?

The sudden tingle in the back of his skull, which felt like a jolt of electricity leaping up from the back of the neck to hit him square between the eyes, was to be his answer. Mason’s telepathy had pierced his conscious mind as gently as an icepick. Squeezing his eyes shut, the Allurist raised a hand to his brow as if he could push the pain of the voice away. It was no use and although the invasion lasted seconds, the sensation rippled for seconds more. The foreign sound echoed in his head, bouncing over the inner caverns of his mind, until it reverberated into recognisable words. Only then did the discomfort abate and Henry opened his eyes again. Much to his relief, the world had stayed very much the same as he’d left it.

“Oi,” the Brazilian muttered to himself. “That was rather sudden.”

He laughed at his own reaction, his hand lowering from his brow to cradle the vintage camera he was carrying around his neck. Of course, with Elizabeth being a Telepath, he knew well that Vampires had the ability to speak to one another without physically being present, but Mason’s utility of the power had been so significantly different to what he was used to. It was impossible to discern a tone to the voice, but the robotic delivery had given him the impression of her discomfort and anger. Still, she wanted to meet. This was progress. He composed another email, confirming that he would meet her at Corvidae Flats, and instantly proceeded in the direction of the Quarantine Zone.

Wasn't too long before she got confirmation that he'd be there, she was already on her way so she just kept going. Wasn't like it'd take her long to get there. When she did, she wouldn't pay much mind to the zombies or other revenant here. She had thought about it, killing something so she didn't do something she'd regret. But she just didn't feel like she had the energy for it. The anger and frustration was definitely there, but the determination just wasn't.

She sat down against a wall on her own, looking at the weapon in her hands with a furrowed brow. So he would be coming. But what would that ultimately mean? She tapped the barrel against her hand taking in that unnecessary breath, still unsure what she was going to do when he got here.

"Now what," She muttered to herself, staring at the door, "Oughta kill him. Not that I necessarily can. He's been a vampire longer than I have, could have been one before I ever became a paladin. He could probably kill me if he wanted." she growled to herself, "Doesn't make it less tempting to try."

She still didn't plan to try, even if she wanted to. She knew he'd come back. But Warren's warning had some value to it. If she broke now, if she made enemies of her sire she'd sever any security for an eternity. And while she might be growing more reckless, she hadn't completely lost her mind just yet.

She hadn't really gotten herself ingrained into vampire society after turning, some had been more recognizing of her she noticed. But that wasn't the same thing. She didn't really think she wanted to be a part of their culture. There was a great deal of uncertainty in her. Something which might take awhile to dissipate.

By the time he’d arrived in the Quarantine Zone and found Mason out in the open, Henry was feeling a little nervous. The awkwardness of the past, and how that must have felt to Mason, combined with any potential expectations he’d given with his email, left the Brazilian uncharacteristically sheepish. When their gazes met across the short distance, Henry raised his hand in greeting and offered her a small smile. Although he’d been practicing what to say for a little while now, the right words had never felt right or good enough. The only thing that remained was to offer her the truth, which he had done. And she’d wanted to meet up to discuss things, which was what they were doing, but… Henry had to admit that his plans hadn’t exceeded that far. He honestly expected Mason to not respond or, worse yet, to try to kill him on sight. He could handle aggressive women, or so he told himself, but to find himself standing two feet from her and still very much in one piece, was to also find himself at a loss.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck before his jade eyes wandered, looking at any area that wasn’t filled with Mason’s image. There was always that voice in the back of his head telling him that if he backed out now, then at least he wouldn’t have to live with the embarrassment of failure. Fortunately, Henry had a countermeasure to such self-deprecating attacks. Not being satisfied with the logic that not trying meant not failing, he decided that giving up at all was a worse kind of failure. More than that, he was going to do his best, be friendly and helpful and understanding, and not look like a complete prat if he could help it.

“So…” he began softly. So far so good, but as Henry continued, the more awkward he felt. “Thank you for… seeing me. I appreciate it.” Eventually his words came out far too quickly and his accent smothered each one of those words until he wasn’t certain he wasn’t making any kind of sense whatsoever. “I know it’s not easy on you with you being what you were before and I’m grateful you came out anyway. I haven’t been here in a long time. Ha… Zombies. I mean, do you come often? Not like that. But, you know…” A choked laugh. A sharp inhale. A pained sigh, and then he reached to cradle his slightly glistening brow in his palm. “Oi, Santa Maria.”

Mason narrowed her eyes for a moment as she saw him. It was hard not to feel some level of anger immediately. She however, only gave a slight nod in response to his wave and smile. Her face was rather solemn. It was clear she wasn't happy but exactly what emotion was a bit unclear even to herself. The only thing that was, was that she was definitely stressed. She still wasn't sure if she wanted to just try and hurt or kill him or not. She wanted to do something but exactly what that was she hadn't decided.

Her hands were at her sides, not sure where to go. For now, she only watched him as he spoke. Her eyes going only between his and his mouth as the words came out. Teeth. Part of the equation. He thanked her for meeting him. She could only manage a quiet, "Yeah.".

He referenced what she was before, that it wasn't easy. That was very much accurate. It wasn't easy, even standing still wasn't easy. But she couldn't think of doing anything else at the same time. It was like having a very large splinter, deep enough that pulling it out was excruciating and just wasn't able to happen just yet, but leaving it in still hurt. He mentioned the zombies, made an accidental innuendo, and tried to correct himself.

Mason could tell he was perhaps stressed too. Or, at least he gave off that impression. Her own distorted instincts told her it was only an act. Told her that this was all just a ruse. All just to make sure she didn't come after him at some point. It was just to keep her out of the way. Make sure he didn't have to make up for it.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again. Thinking. She stopped looking at him. Instead looking to the side and up with her eyes. Though she was still facing him. And then asked a question that she thought was very important, "Why do you care what I think of you now?"

Her eyes returned to try and see his, not that she could tell for sure if he was going to lie to her or not. But maybe if he was going to, just maybe it'd show. "You said in the email. You hope we could greet each other as friends. Why? Why would you want that? And why should I?"

Her voice clearly had emotion in it, anger, pain, uncertainty. She felt like she was bargaining or something. Not sure what with. Peace maybe.

Why did he care?

It was a good question, one he would strive to answer even despite his own uncertainty. The Brazilian brought down the shield of his own hand and took another deep breath. A gust of confidence filled him suddenly, providing the perfect tailwind to recover from his faux pas. He had become an Allurist for good reason and effortlessly adopted a magisterial demeanour. The emphasis was visible by Henry’s mouth, which was wide and hard set; by his voice, which was assertive and genial; by his eyes, which were focused and set on the Vampire in front of him. He took up a stance that mirrored the distinguished poise of a celebrity at the Oscars; his hands crossed loosely in front of himself and his shoulders squared. His appearance and behaviour directly juxtaposed the vivid, angry shell of his childe, and perhaps it would be enough to convince her that he was genuine.

“These are all very valid questions, Mason,” he began. “You do not trust me, and I understand, but I do not have any ill will toward you. What I did… it was a mistake. An accident. A consequence of youth and selfishness on my part, but I did not mean to cause you pain and I did not mean to change you into something that you hate.”

Henry was a simple man, and to possibly spite his upbringing, he preferred things to be that way at all times. While things had become a lot more complicated recently, Henry was determined to disentangle the roots that sought to strangle him and everyone he cared for. Sure, it was a stretch to say he immediately cared about Mason. He felt guilty about what he’d done to her, but that feeling did not equate to genuine, altruistic sympathy. He knew nothing about the woman besides the fact that she had been a Paladin, and what the Brazillian knew about their kind could probably fill a thimble too. They were angry at Vampires, saw them as filth to be washed clean from the Earth, and that was that. It was simple. It was something he understood. And so he thought he understood why Mason was really angry with him.

“I can say that I am sorry. And I can try to make life less insufferable for you by helping out in whatever way I can, by being there now when I wasn’t before, but this is all I can offer to make amends, Mason.” Henry paused and considered her for a moment, his brow creasing with the thought and the consequences of his next words which echoed solemnly. “What would you have me do?”

Mason waited for the answer, though she wasn't sure what exactly she wanted him to say. If there even was a good answer to it. His demeanor changed in its entirety before he answered. All the apparent issues practically vanished. Which was in truth somewhat impressive. She wasn't exactly a strong actor in situations like these. She usually just preferred to say what she thought, or to just not say it. Maybe even to outwardly refuse to say it. Then again, maybe it wasn't acting, maybe it really did just change that fast.

He said he didn't have ill will to her. She wasn't sure she believed it. But she thought, even if it was an accident as he said. But was it really? He still chose to feed outside of any agreement. And that choice cost her humanity. Was that really something that was an accident? Or just an unintended consequence? Or it was an accident, but was it on par with something like negligent homicide? These were the things that raced through Mason's mind. How much she wanted to just go backwards to before she had them.

He was saying he wanted to at least make things easier for her. What somewhat cought her off guards was the final question. 'What would you have me do?' She wasn't really expecting it. And she realized, she didn't even have an answer. She stood quiet. Trying to think. I want you to stop existing. were her thoughts. But she avoided speaking them. She was upset, but she wasn't completely insane...or maybe just a little bit.

"I don't know yet. But I have another important question." Even as she spoke the question she was already thinking on what singular request she could make. If only there was one thing that she could hold him to. What would she choose. But first, the question. Or questions. "Have you done to others what you did to me? Was I the first accident? And is there any chance from you there'll be another case?"

To her, if the answer, especially to the final question, was yes, then she wasn't sure even if a semblance of forgiveness was something that could be remotely considered. It didn't mean if he answered no she could forgive him, or at least not immediately. But if the answer was yes, at least in her current mindset, it was off the table entirely.