korraly - Tumblr blog

korraly · 3 years ago

Text

Marine

Marine Limin Garret - Born May 12, 1993. A former drug addict, used things to help “alleviate boredom.” Was bogged down by her constant stream of thoughts, by failing to meet the expectations of her family and teachers. She hated being intelligent, and hated being perfect. So she escaped into a world of drugs. Anything to help keep her thoughts from running on and on. She never wanted to grow up, to have to face the realities of the real world. This changed for her in 2014 when the news that the Others existed, that there were dangerous creatures in the world. Something about that sparked something in her. A sense of fear or something else

Marine felt a spark of something blossom in her that had been neglected. A sense of wonder in the world that had been snuffed out by wanting to meet the expectations of her family.

Marine gets into rehab before she could get sent to prison. She gets out after three months and moves on with her life. She attends East Central College taking different types of art classes and a few on advertising. She seeks to complete a degree in graphic design with a minor in advertising. Marine doesn’t know if it’s her passion in life, but the bits and parts that she was introduced to during her rehab enthralled her. The idea that she could be at the head of different artistic ventures she saw, akin to the advertisements on billboards in Times Square. She wants to share her visions with others.

Marine didn’t care that much about the Others. She thinks at most someday one of them might be her clients or co-workers. She keeps going about her life and in 2015, a chance to be screened comes to her community college. She submits to the screening, having heard whispers about the added protection that some were able to receive. Marine had zero expectations or hopes when it came to the screening. She felt that it was easier to know as a “just in case” verus staying willfully ignorant like some choose to do.

The screening was a relatively fast procedure and she was in and out in a short time span. She was informed that she had a gene which made her compatible with vampirism, but due to her history there was a chance her petition for a Turning would be denied. Marine had snorted under her breath at the information. She had merely wanted to know if there was anything and she got what she wanted. It was just ironic that a road, one she didn’t know about, would be denied because of her past. She was content with having the information, knowing if she was ever bogged down with a terminal disease and that desperate to live, she could request a Turning. She had a feeling a Turning would be like being on an organ transplant list. The only visible new quirk was that she had something on her license that indicated her compatibility with the gene. Another benefit she supposed.

Marine went about her life. The information that she was compatible with the gene was none of her concern.

Chapter 1

Rolla, MO, USA

Wednesday, Dec 16, 2015

Under ten days until Christmas and Marine was still determined to spend it alone. It wasn’t that she was avoiding her family. However, considering that her maternal grandparents would be making a special trip from Beijing to the middle of nowhere USA to see the expensive house her father had built meant that she should steer clear. It still amused her that the highly sought after architect Aymeric Garret chose to settle not in his ancestral French home nor his penthouse in Paris, but he selected 10 acres of land in the Missouri countryside and built a nice little house for him and his wife.

Marine had a room, though it was more of a favored guest room, in their four bedroom home. She spent more nights on a pull out coach when visiting then in an actual bed. Despite nearly two years sober, she still hadn’t gotten back in the graces of her parents, specifically her stern mother. She found that while her father would look at her in concern when she picked up a glass of wine, her mother couldn’t help but let a backhanded comment loose. She knew that it was a risk to drink when she had once used drugs, but her therapist and doctor had cleared her to partake in small quantities. For her, the stress from arguing with her mother was more likely to cause her to fall back on old habits than a glass of wine.

Which was one of the reasons she was on the phone with a pre-recorded voice guiding her through breathing exercises. If she died all of a sudden, it wouldn’t be porn she wanted deleted from her computer, it would be her recorded list of meditations and therapy appointments.

Marine paused the meditation and glanced at the clock. It was only reaching about 8 pm and she still had a chapter of her textbook to read. She wished she could toss it to the side, but she had delayed it enough as was. Marine let slip a groan as she extracted herself from her bedroom and into her office. She had dedicated a corner in her modest apartment for a desk, assembled herself from IKEA, and her school supplies. It was an eclectic mix of art and business. Notebooks filled with notes and smears of pastels and charcoal on the corner of spreadsheets.

She sat down, lighting the parchment scented candle on the side table next to her. Marine pulled the long strands of her black, blonde-highlighted hair from her face and considered for a few moments before letting her hair back down.

It was cold and she had no intention of paying a higher heating bill. There was a reason she had an excess in woolen sweaters and fuzzy socks. Marine opened her oversized bottom drawer and pulled out the mentioned items. She slipped the sweater over her head and tugged the socks on, once she was settled she tucked her feet underneath her and focused on her school work.

Marine had an ability to be completely absorbed in her own world and at the moment that included her work. She didn’t notice the time slip by until the shrill of her ringtone pulled her from her inner thoughts. She reached out for her phone and was surprised at the name listed: Amelia Schwarz. Marine hadn’t spoken to her since their high school graduation.

“Good evening, this is Marine,” she answered, an old script she remembered from a business etiquette class resurfacing. She felt it was better than the bitterness she wished to spew.

“Mar,” Amelia heaved. “I…I didn’t mean…He didn’t…It’s not like that…” She was barely getting her words out between the muffled background of club music and what sounded like tears.

“Deep breath,” Marine instructed, her voice cutting.

The sound of it was harsh due to the proximity Amelia had to have been holding the phone. It ended with a loud sniffle and the sound of hands rubbing her face free of tears. “Miguel and the crew were going to party. To celebrate his release from prison, ya know. And…and he’s slumped over and…and we think he’s dead.”

Marine’s lips thinned and she took a deep breath through her nose. The sound came out high pitched, revealing a hint of her stress to Amelia. “Dead? An overdose?” It would make the most sense. “Miguel and the crew” were the people she used to hang out with. The burnouts of her small town high school. The ones who bordered the line between hardcore and rebellious.

“No…he…um…found out he was gay in prison…and…ya know the new place…the one owned by an actual vampire…” Amelia stammered out, rushing to explain and defend all at once.

“You went to be Donors and you suspect that Migeul’s dinner guest went too far,” She filled in the gaps. Marine didn’t know if she should be angry, annoyed or apathetic. The three big A’s for her when it came to people from her sordid past.

“Ye-yeah. Mar, you were always the responsible one,” Amelia answered, hope surfaced in her voice. “You could always…ya know.”

What Marine could always do was charm or fuck her way out of trouble. At least with the locals. She hadn’t had to cajole Others in their place of business. “Has the staff been alerted?”

“N…No,” She admitted, releasing a stuttering breath. “Can…can you come get me at least? You know my parents.”

Marine frowned and knew that Amelia was getting her emotions under control. She and Miguel used to be fuck buddies and she knew the girl sometimes fancied herself in love with him. He gets out of prison and she thinks it's going to be some romantic reunion instead he lays it on about how he found himself in prison, hell he might’ve even decided to clean up his act. Amelia, being the “sweet and easy” girl that she is, acts all supportive despite her hurt and jealous heart. The night moves on and the next she sees him, he’s seemingly dead all of a sudden. First, there’s the hysteria of finding the boy she loved almost dead. Then, there is the self-centered preservation everyone “Miguel and the crew” had.

It was that toxic little concoction that helped Marine hold few regrets from cutting ties with them. None of them were killers, but she knew each and every one of them could be held responsible for manslaughter with the right evidence. She hadn’t said anything, but she had become a practical ghost to them in the past two years.

“This is the last time I bail you out. Afterwards, I won’t answer another call from you,” Marine stated her terms in a terse voice. When it came to influences that could push her to old habits “Miguel and the crew” qualified as prime triggers.

Amelia sniffled at her harsh words, but she could hear her head shake. It seemed that they had a deal.

“Hold tight. I’ll be there within a half hour,” Marine assured her and hung up. She didn’t pause to change clothes and instead slipped on the worn bunny slippers she kicked off underneath her desk. She wore only the warm sweater over her satin chemise and the floppy-eared slippers on her feet. She looked ridiculous. If she had a few lines in the corner of her eyes, she might’ve been able to pull off the deranged housewife bit.

She hooked her fingers around her key ring and spun them around. Marine felt that some might judge her for the casualness of her actions as she walked down to her Lexus LS, but she knew there was little she could do. She had done the research, especially when her mother screeched about it opening up “just down the road” from their home. Marine had considered informing her mother that she paid the place a visit before stopping at the house for Sunday dinners, even if she hadn’t.

Regardless, the place required all Donors to sign a contract that in the event of accidental death that the business would not be held reliable. A common contract for places that catered to the type. It wasn’t much different then what a drug dealer would want their clients to sign, if anything they did was actually legal.

For that reason, Marine didn’t feel hard pressed to speed down the 72 in the midst of the night. She would arrive when she arrived.

Chapter 2

The Delirium was situated in a converted barn and the pulse of the bass could be felt from the dirt parking lot. She didn’t immediately get out of her car as her hands tapped rhythmically on her steering wheel. She had so many memories about clubs, entering underaged and plying men too old for her for drinks or a hit of something more. This was the first time she had been in close proximity to one since she had gotten sober.

Marine didn’t know if the fact it was a Vampire club made it worse or not. She remembered her sponsor warning her about these clubs. She had been told that the experience of being fed on by Vampires was euphoric and irresponsible establishments didn’t screen their Donors. It was what led her to understanding that “Miguel and the crew” went there in hopes of trying out a new high. She noticed how some were more willing to try it because it was supposed to be controlled. That there were “safety precautions” in place. Nobody talked about the waivers you were supposed to sign before consenting.

She wondered briefly if she was supposed to feel some sympathy for the might-or-might-not-be-dead Miguel. She figured that a normal person would feel something besides the annoyance that clung to her heart and mind. Would’ve felt bad that someone so young had their life ended because of addiction. It’s weird.

“Just admit the truth to yourself, Marine. You’re more angry at yourself than anyone else. Angry to be reminded of who you were just a few years ago. Angry that when you started to slip away that your mother didn’t reach out for you, instead she pushed you further.” She looked up towards the club. “Just like how I suspect Amelia did to Miguel when he rejected her.”

Marine wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep sniff. She glanced at her reflection in her rear view mirror and tried for a smile. It looked wrong on her tired and emotional eyes.

She suddenly hit the horn of her car, managing to make a couple people walking past jump. GOD! She flicked herself in the middle of her forehead, a gently probing to get over herself. “Let’s just get Amelia and leave. I’ll drop her emotional and possibly wasted ass on her front lawn and call it a fucking night!”

#trashbin #writing #abandoned #Subducere #drugaddiction #vampirism #christmas #rollamo

1 note · View note

korraly · 3 years ago

Text

Out of My System

Idea One: I’ll Be Anything You What You Want Me to Be

Narcisse Lebohang Baarsma - True Shapeshifter

Maddeson - Wood Elf?

Bunnie - Jackalope Spirt Shifter

Background: Beginning

Alrun School for The Magically Attuned, established in 1632 by Minke (m) Vossius and Henny (f) Barlaeus. It served to educate the children of any race with a spark of magic in their veins. It was a little shocking that the Vossius family played a part in running the school, but it was later explained when Minke Vossius and Henny Barlaeus had children and produced a few Spirit Shifters, shifters capable of magic. Or at least, that was what those of the more modern era understood of the school’s history. And, I was sent there when I was 12.

It was sometime in 2014 when Vine captured the sight of something unimaginable. A teenage boy’s older brother turned into a giant dog. The kid was named Haze Sanna and he was a mildly popular creator on the platform. A funny guy with an above average face. I remembered watching a video of his once or twice as I was only in the 6th grade when the news broke out.

The media went into a frenzy for weeks. Some claimed that it was superb editing, many messaging the kid for a connection to who made the alleged “man turns into giant dog” effect. All of the jokes and speculation turned into dead silence when the Head of the U.N. stood alongside a stout woman and introduced her as the Procurator of the Concilium and the Primum Nomen Eius of the Order of Seers. It was later reiterated to me that it was fancy talk for head honcho to a council of every Other species on Earth and that she was a very old and very powerful oracle.

I didn’t think that something like that would affect me much. Didn’t care to think how the world would change because of it. I was still a kid. Still carrying around daydreams that some sexy vampire would fall in love with me someday and I’d live out my own Twilight. And most of my peers didn’t think much differently. The romantics held similar dreams like mine. About turning into shifters or becoming magical. A fantasy world come to life. The more pessimistic would pull up articles that speculated on the dangers of these Others and even more were still taking it all in.

Things only felt different after my entire collège was forced to watch a broadcast. The Procurator of the Concilium, Madame Deianira Barr, addressed the Norms:

“Hello, my name is Deianira Barr. A name is something which is sacred in my world, so I hope you can understand the importance of my speech. Your leaders have already given addresses concerning their prior knowledge of our existence and you’ve been introduced to a few ranking members of the Concilium. While I understand the outrage and confusion this truth has caused the world, I am not here to address those concerns. I am here to explain what will be happening in the coming months.

In the past, it was your connections and your bloodline that gave you power and status. It has changed to be money as the rise of capitalism has spread across the world. But, the revelation of my people has added another source of power and status some will seek to find.

I am talking about the existence of Magicae which is inherent in all of my people to varying degrees and displays. Some will find ways to illegally obtain which they don’t have. Instead of denying outright the access to Magicae the Concilium and I have decided to screen for it.

This will not be mandatory but highly suggested. This test will allow us to inform anyone of their Magicae potential or if they have a genetic compatibility for new statuses such as becoming a shifter or a vampire. This test will be equal parts magicis and scientific. The magicis part of the test will allow us to connect you to established members of my community, who will have the option to contact you and invite you into their fold. This will ease the transition for those who wish to connect to their Magicae side. And for those who test positive but do not wish to change their status, you will be directed to a specialist who will help you lock away your Magicae. There are no side effects to this operation and will be done for those who wish to legally remain as a…Norm as the media has termed it…”

There was much more to the speech, but it devolved into technical speak and introducing the heads of the main races. The palatable ones to the Norm population. There were even Hunters in the meeting. Those dedicated to eradicating the Other population. They would no longer be able to hunt freely without just cause. The ones that were known for only hunting Improbos, an Other who had broken the Lex of the Concilium, were announcing the establishment of their private and public services. There would be new departments in police stations and the training would be handled by the Hunters. Some of the guilds, many of which masqueraded as private security, would be announcing their specialized skill sets publicly in the next coming months.

All of it setting up a new normal for Others and Norms alike to live with. The beginnings of these transitions were crystal clear. I felt it was only once it came to people’s doorsteps that they began to understand how different the world was becoming.

A paper was sent home with me after school that day. A permission slip for my testing to be done at school. My mother and I talked at length about it. There was a sense of hesitation in my mother.

She didn’t know much about her family, and didn't know much about my own biological father. All my life it had been the two of us, settled comfortably on the lower end of middle class. I went to a decent public school and my mother worked a 9-5 job. Nothing too special or extraordinary. I wanted to be tested, my brain conjuring up daydreams of fairies and magic. I wanted to become a real life Elsa. My mother, on the other hand, was inclined to allow it. A chance to connect us to her unknown family or even my biological father.

I believe now that she only signed the permission slip because of that. On the off chance that she had mothered a child that was Other even if she was not. In the hope that I would be a ticket to the family she thought she didn’t have.

The day of the testing was…stressful. The atmosphere of the school was filled with chaotic energy. The adults were uncomfortable by having Others near them and knowing about it. My classmates and I radiated different degrees of emotions causing one major headache for those sensitive to it. Some were excited. Some were fearful. Some were apprehensive. The entire school was being tested save a few individuals who skipped completely. It made sense since the school decided to dedicate an entire day to the event.

We all stood outside in the hallways in a line. Entering in one at a time for the DNA swab. My eyes were glued to the doorway. My nerves or something else entirely had me hyperfocus upon it. I noticed how some would enter and exit within moments before gathering in loose clumps. Others would take several moments that felt like hours before being escorted by a teacher to another area. It was a clear signal. Those who came out quickly didn’t have any Magicae potential and those who did were escorted elsewhere.

I wanted my results to be that I had Magicae. That I was someone special and different. All through elementary school and the 6th grade, I felt dreadfully average. It didn’t matter if I was smart or charming. There was always someone who had some quirk about them. Something that made them stand out to teachers and friends. I suppose my predicament was due to my standoffish shell. Something I learned to use when confronted with strangers, people I wasn’t sure would be good to me. Or perhaps, the mere fact I wasn’t happy with myself. That seemingly silly feeling some grew out of in collège or didn’t.

I wished we had been allowed to talk whilst waiting. It would’ve made the next moments of my life easier. In fact, I sometimes wonder if it would’ve made the next six years of my life easier. But what ifs and maybes can only be useful for drunken stupors and daydreams after all.

When it was finally my turn, the hired security officer opened the door and the teacher across from him gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded back at the teacher before being ushered in. The testing was being held in the gym and I looked to my left to see the pop-up lab they had constructed over the past week. There were a number of officers guarding the entrance to the gym and the lab. All of them seemed…different to me. It was the first time I had been that close to an Other and I could feel it. I didn’t know if everyone could, like it was some buried natural instinct in humans. The thought only made me more nervous. Nobody had talked about what would happen afterwards.

It was easy to think that if I didn’t have any Magicae potential that I would return to my classmates. A few jokes, a little bit of teasing were to be expected, but in the end I would return to being me. A simple 6th grade girl with fewer daydreams clouding her head.

It really wasn’t until I stood at the entrance of the gym that I began to think about what it would mean to have Magicae potential. To be one of the few students escorted back to some unknown location. Knowing the only promise we had been given was that at the end of the day we would return home.

I didn’t realize I had stood frozen in one place for several minutes until a woman in a lab coat approached me. She knelt down in front of me and I sensed that similar…offness that radiated from the bulk of the guards. Surprisingly, she didn’t make me nervous. Perhaps, it was the gentleness in her gaze or that she wasn’t in uniform like an officer. That was the first time I realized the power of clothes, the power of one’s image. I know now that she was capable of more harm, magicae wise, compared to the protective instincts which ruled the mostly Shifter guards. However, those wouldn’t be lessons I learned until years later.

She was patient with me. Talking to me like I was a sheltered animal, unsure of myself. And I was. I had enough conviction at 11 years old to go through with the testing, but I was nervous about the results. The excitement and the beauty of possibilities paled in comparison to the raw realness that was in front of me. Magicae was something real. Something that could be felt. Something that could convince me that everything would be fine. It took the shape of a woman who knelt in front of me.

I never did get her name, at least not her actual name. In Other society, it is common for everyone to have knowledge of your nickname and your family name. Your True Name was something sacred. Something that could give certain Others control and power over you. She had a shiny name tag with the name “Dr. Noa Hisakawa” printed in a looping font.

She was the one who guided me through all the procedures, the entire time treating me like a startled foal prone to running away if pushed. I held a begrudging amount of awe and dislike for her during those initial moments. Here was this shining brilliant woman, but she held herself too far from me. Another thing I experienced for the first time, an Other who believed themselves inherently above me. Above any of the people brought beyond the veil during those initial years. In retrospect, she had the decency to be polite about it in front of a kid.

Background Part 2:

The exact procedures that they used in order to test for magicae and the gene capability are lost to me as it has been over ten years since it happened. Despite that, I can clearly remember the exact moment when something strange occurred. I was sitting in front of Dr. Hisakawa as she waited for my results on a computer when she seemed to freeze. As a child, I didn’t recognize the subtle emotions that flickered in her gaze, but I understood that something made her different.

No longer was she this refined woman, this creature of otherworldly power and grace that stood above me. She didn’t look at me like that. She looked at me like I was the different one, the one that was an unknown entity to her normal life. Dr. Hisakawa called over another one of her people. In an instance my hearing was obstructed. It was like someone held my head under water as any sound that managed to enter my ear was echoed and unclear.

I strained to hear them talk as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. I didn’t know what was going on and I came to realize that the fear of the unknown was one of the worst to experience. I was only able to hear the pair of them mention words like “improbable,” “fey,” “bloodline,” and “Alpha protocol.” And, I can say to this day I still don’t understand the specifics of it.

Dr. Hisakawa made a hand movement and I winced as my hearing returned to normal. I stared at her as my body started to come down from the earlier adrenaline rush. I wanted to ask her questions about what she said to the man, but that previous flicker of emotion kept me from speaking then. She turned from the computer and I noted the hesitation she had as she walked towards me.

We both stared at each other for the longest time. I didn’t have a single clue as to what was happening and she didn’t have any inclination to inform me. She broke eye contact with me and walked away. I was left alone for what felt like eternity before another person in a lab coat approached me. The air that they had was much more comforting to me, but I subconsciously couldn’t observe them too closely. As an Unawakened Other, this phenomena meant that that person’s magicae was similar to mine but due to them being extremely powerful my self preservation prevented me engaging them. This was apparently something that should have happened with Dr. Hisakawa and me.

This other person escorted me through another exit of the gym. I didn’t leave the way I came. They were about to leave me in an empty classroom with a couple of guards when I somehow found the courage to ask. “What does Alpha protocol mean?” I had my gaze fixed on the wall, unable to look at them despite seeking answers.

“Alpha protocol here means that you need to be secured for your own and other’s safety,” they explained.

By the time, I was able to move my gaze from the wall to where they once stood. The other person was gone. I stood there and felt a shiver run up and down my spine. It was suddenly extremely cold and I felt exposed standing out alone in that hall. One of the guards guided me into the empty room and made a vague mention of waiting for my mother to arrive.

#trashbin #writing #abandoned #Subducere

1 note · View note

korraly · 3 years ago

Text

Lunorin 2

Chapter II

1871:

“Let’s see,” she mumbled around a bite of pastry. “I can’t walk very far around the city without stumbling across a child selling me a gossip journal.”

Lunorin was still too focused on the plate of warm partries to pay attention to her words. One of the first things she did when he woke up was insist he sit down to breakfast with her. He found it a bit peculiar knowing that her breakfast usually consisted of a glass of pig’s blood and she sometimes added in spices, especially during the winter months. He hadn’t tried one and waited for her to throw up the offending food item like she had done after she had first turned, still in that stage of denial most found themselves. Instead, Camilie wolfed down the pastry with a glimmer in her eyes.

The rich scent of butter and raisins made his mouth water and he found the sensation strange. Unlike vampires, Primum Sanguis were able to stomach regular foods though the taste was usually lackluster in the end. Never had he looked at the treats made by Camilie’s human staff with hunger. It wasn’t as enticing as fresh blood would’ve been, but it was closer than he liked to admit. The food he had in the Realms was able to be infused with the very life essence of the ingredients, something that was nearly impossible to replicate anywhere on Terra. He had partaken in a few rare instances, but it never could capture the memories of his childhood. The scent of the pastries on the table were bringing those memories back to him.

“Camille, bellum. What is in those pastries? I thought that you couldn’t stomach the papery texture,” he expressed, balling his hand into a fist to prevent himself from snatching one and eating it.

“Oh?” She mumbled around another large bite. “That’s right! You would’ve been asleep. Last year, my sire found his mate. She is the most lovely little thing, but she desperately loves food. She fell in love with him the moment they met in Paris and they even eloped before her father could whisk her back to Spain. She is from a mage family and they were quite upset at a vampire taking their heir from them. Regardless, she didn’t object to being turned but she demanded a year to conduct a few experiments. She found a way to infuse foods with blood and it’s made my sire plenty of money. They’ve opened a restaurant in Paris and plan to expand as they go in search of a couple of children to sire.”

Lunorin blinked as he took a deep breath. It wasn’t as rich as the food from the Realms, but it was close. A smile spread across his face and he allowed himself to reach for the pastry. The first bite was akin to the first time he tasted the blood of a mage. It was electric and sent his heart racing. It had been centuries since he tasted anything as divine as it. “And who do I have to thank for this invention, bellum?”

“Oh,” Another swallow. “Her name is Sofía.”

“I think I’ll invest some of my fortune into this venture of theirs. Perhaps, I’ll travel with them as I search for my Swansong,” he commented and took a swallow of hot spiced blood.

Camille wiped the bits of pastry from her mouth and pouted at him. “You slept for fourteen years and want to leave already?”

Lunorin tilted his head, “This is about my search for my Swansong. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, bellum.”

Camille shook her head, “Let me join you. I’ll search as well. I…do not leave Toulouse often.”

Lunorin didn’t comment on her hesitant words or what was left unsaid. He merely launched into his plans for food and travel.

1905:

Lunorin explores all of Europe, going on a culinary tour of the continent. He meets Sofía Cano and her mate Laurentin Gros and helps them find their children, Ashley Leclair and Dallas Dale. He spends some time in Barcelona visiting Qingeiros and his Swansong, Paca Cardoso. He learns that despite Paca not being a Fae that the healers and doctors are certain their child will be a Primum Sanguis, or at least won’t be born a vampire. Lunorin is happy for his friends and feels enriched by the experiences he has gained. It was a happy event to discover so many foods and what makes them different and unique from his memories of the Realms. But he once more feels the call of the Last Sleep, so he hibernates once more.

1951:

“We’ll have to get you new clothes,” Camille chuckles and bounces over to him. “I’ve never been so glad to be a vampire. I lived long enough to wear pants and it’s considered normal.”

“The fashion is much different compared to when I last slept. Though, it does remind me a little of that one girl I slept with last when I was awake,” He mumbled, sleep still lingering in his voice. This time being greeted by Camille reminded him more of a sibling than a lovelorn lover. It was a good change. “There is much you missed this time. Two world wars and so many new inventions in both worlds. The humans are quite creative and more and more mages are attempting to integrate these creations with magicae,” Camille prattle on and called for her personal cook to make some food. “Due to the changing times, I’ve chosen to keep one of my cooks with me. I offered to turn the older woman and told her my own story. We both keep watch over our family generations later here in the Toulousain countryside.”

Lunorin nodded as he recounted that. Camille Moen was the sister to a woman who had married a known mage from the Baarsma family. There had been a conflict and due to Camille being without magicae to assist her then widowed sister, she turned to Laurentin Gros in order to gain vampirism. She survived the process and had since been known as the deadly protector of the Baarsma family ever since. While mages were mortal they tended to live twice as long as a normal human and some even longer depending on their ancestry. She had seen a few generations of her family pass since the 1600s.

“I suppose I should return to university,” He mumbled as they walked from his hidden bedroom and into the main dining hall.

Camille had taken to upgrading his home to more modern standards which were vastly different compared to the last he stepped through the halls in 1905. There was now electric lighting which was brighter and more consistent compared to the gas lights. He found it hurt his eyes at first, but he supposed that was to be expected after being asleep.

They sat down to an impromptu breakfast and he found the food just as exquisite as when he last woke. It probably helped that she had kept on a good cook who had years to perfect the technique of infundir sangre. The newest sight to their table was the introduction of a glass bottle which Camille drank from using a paper straw that had a bent in it. The liquid in question appeared to resemble the blood she once drank from wine glasses.

She offered him a sip of hers and he took a hesitant drink. It was…foul on his tongue. The taste was palatable given that it was similar to the spiced blood she used to drink, but it…bubbled on his tongue. The look on his face must have been amusing as she burst into laughter so hard she gripped her stomach. “I take it that carbonation disagrees with you?”

“If that is what that foul sensation was then it does, bellum,” he scraped the surface of his tongue across his teeth, hoping to rid it of the lingering feeling. “I helped with the recipe for this,” she held up the bottle. “I’ve earned a pretty penny selling the recipe to my sire’s child, Dallas. She left for America after you had slept and found her mate. They created a number of drinks similar to this for our kind. I’ve found that I like my spiced soda.”

“I will stick with my usual spiced blood in its pure form. Please and thank you, bellum,” Lunorin shook his head and took a long drink from his wine glass. He had been amazed at the inventions of the girl’s mother, but carbonated blood was not something his kind needed, in his opinion.

Lunorin looked at the world outside and marveled at all the changes and everything he had missed. There was now a train which could carry you from Toulouse to Paris. There was an ugly little pathway made of

#trashbin #writing #incomplete #abandoned #Subducere

1 note · View note

korraly · 3 years ago

Text

Lunorin

Chapter I

France

1857:

Lunorin cupped his hands in front of him, breathing hard before he tucked them back into the wool-lined pockets of his winter’s coat. Sunrise was approaching and he knew that upstairs a fire was being readied for his arrival whilst a certain woman dressed for the day despite the lethargy building in her breast. He knew that the days he spent inside her home were becoming more and more often. When the call of the Last Sleep pulled at him and fear accompanied each breath, he wanted to remind himself that there were people and things to keep living for. Qingeiros told him that he shouldn’t lose hope and that, perhaps, he needed to hibernate. Hibernation was a common practice amongst the oldest of the True Fae. Immortality had a way of weighing down on them and entering into a voluntary hibernation was a way to help prevent an early Last Sleep.

He wanted to avoid that as he felt it was admitting something to himself. Something that for centuries he had denied and feared, that Lunorin needed to find his mate, his Swansong. A True Fae had a mate also known as one’s Swansong due to them being a reason to stop them from entering the Last Sleep. The Last Sleep was a peaceful way to help ensure that the balance between old and new was kept. That the newer generations of Fae could continue to have children whilst the old could finally rest. However, it was criticized when a True Fae, especially one without a mate or family, chose to enter it early. Lunorin didn’t wish to enter the Last Sleep. The idea that there would be no one besides him, no one to enter the next cycle with together, scared him more deeply than when his family urged him to hide on Terra while they fought the Seelie invaders.

Lunorin walked forwards, his feet making silent sounds as the partially melted snow softened the ground. He hadn’t come to a decision even as he elected to walk the miles from his home to hers. Camille Moen was only his latest lover in his long list of them. She wasn’t human like most had been and it was the first time he had chosen to lay a vampire.

Qingeiros made jokes that he was sleeping with his friend’s offspring, trying to make him feel awkward for his choice in lover. Lunorin merely reminded him that technically Camille was one of Qingeiros’ clan given they both possessed similar powers. Both him and Qingeiros were known as Primum Sanguis and had inadvertently created vampires when they had laid with human lovers. It was believed that their offspring were stillbirths, but instead they would rise the next day as undead. Some of their kind left their children to fend for themselves whilst Qingeiros and him elected to prevent as many offspring as possible while teaching them how to survive. The vampires were unable to reproduce and any “children” they created were those they chose to turn. There were clans of vampires that were separated by the types of magic they possessed and each could be traced back to a specific Primum Sanguis. On the other hand, the Primum Sanguis couldn’t be classified as undead. They had slowed bodily functions, like any of the True Fae, and they were able to have children. They were creatures made of magic whilst the vampires were considered products of dark magics.

But his lover being a vampire wasn’t enough to ward off the desire for the Last Sleep. Lunorin leaned against the cold brick of her country house and let the cold seep into his clothes and skin. Vampires were cold unless they had recently fed. It had been centuries since he felt warmth whilst holding someone’s hand. It was even longer since his soul felt warmth. What was it that Qingeiros said? A Swansong was nothing compared to their past lovers. It was someone who, if accepted, would fit into their life with such ease it would feel like they’d been together for centuries and not hours. The magic that would flow between them would fill that daunting emptiness that grew larger year after year. He wanted that. He needed it in fact.

A door was open and the flushed face of Camilie’s personal maid peeked at him. “Sir Roussel?”

Lunorin turned his gaze towards her and a faint smile crossed his face. It was the kind of smile he wore whenever he had to deliver bad news. “Could you tell Camilie that I’ve come to talk?”

The maid nodded dutifully and darted back inside the warmth of the heated home. No doubt that she would be informing her lady of that peculiar smile on his face.

Lunorin let out a sigh and straightened back out. “I’m sorry old friend.” With that, he entered the home.

---

Camilie didn’t relax back into her seat like she usually would, instead she perched, back ramrod straight. She could feel the ache in her ribs as her mind fought the desire for sleep. She had expected a number of conversations she might have with Lunorin especially when her maid had warned her of his expression. Never did she expect to be told, in the most polite way possible, that she wasn’t enough for him. Wasn’t enough of a friend and lover to keep him away from the effects of the Last Sleep.

“And you wish for me to watch over you?” She asked and could feel the warm wetness of liquid run down her face. Blood tears, no doubt.

“Do not cry, bellum,” He whispered, his warm hand taking hold of hers. “I am sorry, but I had…talked about this before. I do not wish to burden you, but I trust you to keep my secrets and estates in order.”

Camilie wiped the tears from her face and nodded. It did make sense. She was one of the few who knew about him and they had been friends much longer than they had lovers. “How long will you be asleep?” She asked, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

“I do not know, bellum. I will wake up every few decades, talk with you and learn of what has happened. I will stay awake until the Sleep calls me once more and I will be searching for my Swansong. Otherwise…” He didn’t finish his thoughts. Lunorin was good at comforting her, his voice falling between a mother’s reassurance and a father’s reliance. He could even make the death of a loved one into something to be celebrated instead of mourned.

“I am sorry I wasn’t enough,” She whispered.

“Ach,” He sighed and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “It has nothing to do with you. It is merely the nature of what and who I am. I’ve been alive for too long, bellum. Too long without someone to fill my soul.”

Camilie didn’t answer him and instead let him comfort her. He was the one who shouldered much more than her. The one who doubted his ability to wake each morning, to keep going. Instead, she was simpering like a child over the loss of what she considered hers.

“You’ll find your own mate without me hindering you, bellum. I expect to wake up sometimes and meet yours. It shall give me such strength to see you happy,” He added, his smile that bittersweet comfort.

“Don’t worry, Lunorin. I’ll help you and I shall greet you with a smile. You told me that I helped you last another decade, so I’ll carry that with me instead of your love and attention,” She whispered, the ache in her chest only a dull sensation.

#trashbin #writing #incomplete #abandoned #Subducere

1 note · View note