søndag 20. august 2017

VtM:B - a story. A memory.

I remember an evening when I brought home a meal, a girl with great looks, mesmerizingly following my steps within a haze of bliss, having already expected Pälvi to be within the apartment. I unlocked the door, opened it wide, and asked the mortal to enter willingly – and she stepped inside as easy as if she was unaware of what awaited her; which, to be fair, she was.

I asked her to make herself comfortable, planting her in the living room, wandering from item to item, admiring my wealth and taste, while I went upstairs to collect Pälvi.
Finding her at the computer, probably writing a report for one of the Elders, I was able to convince her that she looked paler than usual, that she hadn’t fed enough, and that I had found something pretty for her. It took almost no persuasion at all.

As Pälvi and I reentered the living room, the young woman was standing in front of a painting. I can’t recall exactly what had sparked the interest, but I glided over to her, only letting the clicking sound of my heels be heard for mortal ears above the music (I’ve practiced with Kira many times, so I have a fair certainty in how the sound ranges of mortal ears fall – not that I don’t recall it with utter accuracy myself from my own living years), coming closer with assured steps, the one walking with knowledge and want. She turned and smiled towards me, and I in turn gave her a smile that only an angel could present.
Placing my hand at her hip and one at her lower back, looking on in delight as she widened her eyes with an unexpected need, I silenced all her questions with a kiss.

Pälvi moved up next to us, observing, but keeping somewhat distant. I didn’t want her to be distant, I wanted her to share this mortal with me, the mortal I had brought her, brought here, for her, to drink from.
I reached out with a hand, and tried to take Pälvi’s hand, guiding her to the waist of our feast.

The girl didn’t quite seem to be catching on, so I whispered soft reassurances to her, that she would soon experience pleasure above anything she’d ever felt (not really a lie, based on what Kira tells me), drawing a little bit more on my Presence, trying to lull both her and Pälvi into the moment, this beautiful moment.
At what seemed to be forever, Pälvi finally started kissing the girl’s slender neck. Smiling, I joined in on the other side, wanting to taste mortal blood first. Of course, it wasn’t a competition, but I sometimes make one out of nothing – it makes me feel better.

Biting into that soft, succulent flesh, I heard the mortal gasp as I secured my hold on her, waiting only for Pälvi to feast upon her at the same time.
I didn’t want to drain her; I wanted this to draw out, to linger, so I pulled my fangs back from her, licking the puncture wounds, causing her to shiver.

Lifting my head to mentally roll my eyes at my dear partner, whom I loved in life and forever will in undeath, despite her flaws and my own faults and failings, being so stubborn to refuse what I offered her. Taking the hint – she reads me so well – she held my eyes as she put her mouth to the white skin, fangs bared, and bit. The mortal moaned, now not only expecting and experiencing the sensation anew, but also the memories of my teeth, making the delight stronger.
Then the moment changed in the snap of the fraction of a second.

Pälvi pulled back, disgust on her face. Perplexed, I looked at her, not knowing what was wrong.
“This female isn’t fitting.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”

Pälvi wiped the trace of spilled blood from her mouth, making a face. I was at a complete loss: here I, knowing that she’d not want to go hungry upon coming back home, had presented her with the finest of beverages, the most exclusive of the evening, and she not only refused, but found it revolting?
“Get rid of her.”

Pälvi turned and marched away, actually MARCHED! She only does that when she’s all business and no fun. Clearly, this was my mistake, and I had to set things right.

I was furious. Or, not actually furious, but scorned, and far more than mildly miffed.

Having lost the moment, the enjoyment, I grabbed the girl’s hair and pulled it back, not too much – I didn’t want to snap her neck, and bit down into her again, drinking deeply from her. Her surprised and feeble efforts of resisting soon stopped, her heart slowed down, dangerously so.

Carrying her in my arms, I carried her down, setting her on her feet, and played the part of two girls who had simply been out on the town and had far too much to drink.
Dumping her in a safe enough distance to a nearby hospital, but far enough away from my place, I melted into the night as she fell over, face first, not getting up. She was someone else’s problem now; I had Pälvi to worry about.

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