Post by madascheese on Sept 15, 2007 0:43:29 GMT
Hi all! 
well, here is the last chapter of The Slow Turning (after a rather long wait lol). Hope y'all enjoy 
***********************************************
Karl entered the room slowly, hesitantly, bowing his head as soon as Lord Vakaal was visible in the dim glow of the magnificent office. Dillan, who came in behind him, followed suit without looking at the dark, robed figure stood behind the headteacher’s desk. Murdoch was the last to enter as, with a severe expression and a heavy heart, he seated himself on his mahogany chair.
“Please be seated,” he said sternly yet politely, gesturing to the wooden chairs before him. “Lord Vakaal, an Elder of the convocation, has come here to discuss your future, Dillan.”
The ancient vampire slid from the shadows smoothly, with a fluidity that neither of the young vampires had expected. His face was stony, expressionless and rigid like that of a statue; there was something mesmerising about him, and yet something sinister – old evil.
“I trust that you remember what happened to you, Dillan,” Vakaal said slowly, breaking her fixation on his time-worn features.
“Yes, I do,” she replied demurely, unsure of how to address this venerable being. Her stomach twisted in knots of hunger and fear as she felt his harrowing, motionless stare pierce her very thoughts.
“The vampires who reside here,” he said, turning around and beginning to pace the room, “are part of a vitally important investigation concerning the integration – to some degree – of vampires in human society, as well as an exploration into the deepest realms of the vampiric nature. Our secret was nearly revealed to the world on several occasions, by vampire and mortal alike – you, however, are the only person who is able to remember anything.”
“Of course, this in itself is dangerous; the other vampires, including Karl, have proved themselves trustworthy, and so are not considered to be a danger to our experiment. We must, therefore, contain this information by any means possible.” He paused for a moment, turning round once again to face Dillan, who immediately looked at the floor in fear. “You will be terminated.”
Dillan’s heart plummeted with gut-wrenching, sickening force into her stomach. Her mouth was dry and stale, arid with despair as her deathly breath ripped out in ragged panic. Her time was nearly up. Karl rested his head in his hands, uncertain of what to do or who to turn to. His mind raced with pointless thoughts as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He saw Lord Vakaal turn and walk towards the shadows slowly, as if he was almost waiting for the young maker to challenge him. The pressure of his thoughts was building to breaking point – he couldn’t stand sitting helplessly next to his childe, unable to think, unable to act.
He rose, slowly and assertively as Vakaal, sensing his movement immediately, turned around to face him. He felt the slightest trickle of crimson sweat on the nape of his neck as he fixed his defiant gaze on the imposing figure of his Elder.
“With all due respect, my Lord, I don’t think you should kill her,” he said, pure anguish shaking each word furiously. “I’m her maker – I know what she feels, and I know she can be trusted. She wants to be part of the experiment; she doesn’t want to live life like the other vampires in the world. I know she wants to learn and be like us and I know that she trusts me implicitly. I know that she won’t endanger our situation. She came with me tonight knowing that her future was uncertain.” He slammed his fist on the table as Murdoch, showing unusual nervousness, jumped in alarm whilst Vakaal, unshaken, retained his gaze. “She’s young, she’s tasted the satisfaction of killing and yet she wants to be one of us! I am totally sure that she can do this.”
“She had no choice but to follow her maker tonight, Karl,” Vakaal replied instantly, a tiny note of anger overshadowing his heavy tones. “If she didn’t, she would remain a fugitive for eternity, alone and filled with burning questions. It is obvious that she would choose the easier path.”
“Don’t you think it’s better that we found her rather than the Fury?!” Karl cried in response. “If they had found her, that would be one more vampire fighting against us. Instead, she wants to be part of what we have here!”
“Sit down Karl!” Murdoch said firmly, raising his voice above Karl’s grieving tones as the vampire returned to his seat, beside himself with anger. He turned confidently to face Lord Vakaal. “My Lord, I firmly believe that myself and the others will be more than able to lead Dillan down the right path for her, but the only person truly able to speak on this subject is Dillan herself.” He looked to the quiet, pensive, red-haired vampire sitting still in her chair and addressed her softly. “What do you want to do with eternity?” he asked.
“I…I want to understand this,” she stuttered nervously, feeling the wise, penetrating stare of the Elder look to her once again. She swallowed, feeling the nauseating lump in her throat more than ever as clear thoughts seemed to fail her. What did she want from eternity – another chance to make something of herself? Did she even want this? Arguments for and against stumbled clumsily over each other in her thoughts as she tried to make sense of her feelings. She didn’t want to die, that was for certain; but she couldn’t go on killing as she had done prior to this moment. The lump in her throat throbbed as the blank expression of her dead mother flowed, unforgivably, into her consciousness like poison. By God, she thought, she had not meant to kill her – if anything, she was sickened by the very idea - but seeing those eyes, now empty and hollow, that were once filled with a blue so pure that they seemed to draw their colour from the sky itself, seemed to provoke a curious sympathy within her. Since the act, she had fervently maintained that her mother was probably happier now than she had been in a long time; the one thing Dillan didn’t want was to be happier in true death than in life – even if it was a mere half-life. She would not let the world get the better of her as her mother had allowed it to.
“I don’t want to die, I want to make something of myself,” she continued, feeling her confidence grow slightly as her thoughts began to clarify. “My life was taken away from me before I even had the chance to turn it around,” she said bitterly. “I didn’t ask for this, but I want to make the best of it. I’m ready and wiling to learn. That’s why I came to Mansbridge as a mortal anyway.” Despite the rebellious churning of her stomach and the deep blade of fear penetrating her unbeating heart, she scraped together the small amount of confidence she had left and matched Vakaal’s unblinking stare with her own emerald gaze. As their visions connected, she was sure she could feel him in her mind, exploring the depths of her conflicting thoughts with curled, bony fingers and a deep curiosity.
They continued to look at one another with the intensity that only vampires can portray; the fierce, jewelled green of Dillan’s eyes stared deeper into the inimitable depths of the Elder’s ice-blue irises, as cold and unforgiving as the heart of a glacier. A few seconds passed as they became entranced with one another, though the focus of their entrancement was not as obvious as it seemed. It was Lord Vakaal who looked away first as, with a look of slight satisfaction on his face, he turned to face Dr Murdoch.
“Very well,” the Elder said slowly, surveying the brave young vampire with interest once again. “Dr Murdoch, will you accept Dillan as your pupil?”
Dillan’s heart leapt into her throat with anticipation. Murdoch smiled broadly. “With pleasure, my Lord,” he replied graciously. Karl breathed a desperate sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Lord Vakaal,” Dillan said as blood-tears threatened to taint her pale cheeks. “You won’t regret this.”
Vakaal nodded and, with what Dillan could only decipher as a half-smile, retreated into the enveloping shadows and disappeared. She returned to her seat feeling light-headed, completely elated and yet desperately bloodthirsty. She had been convinced that her walk up those dank stone steps would be her last, as if she was walking to the gallows with the dark, hooded hangman waiting for her. Even throughout their ‘meeting’ she was certain that the odds were against her; in fact, she wasn’t even sure why the Elder had allowed her to live. Was it possible that they had some sort of connection, that he could read her thoughts? Whenever he had looked at her, she had always felt as if something was literally trying to silently drill into the back of her mind, trying to discover what even she could not, buried deep in her subconscious. When she had looked at him directly, it was almost as if there was an invisible connection between them, as subtle as a spider’s thread and yet definite as the buzzing of an electric current between them. He must have seen something that words cannot describe, she reasoned, as the words she spoke before this never once changed the expression on his wizened face.
Karl, who had been smiling quietly in his seat since the verdict, reached out his hand towards his childe, brushing his sleek skin against hers as he tried to wrap his hand around hers; she slowly moved her hand out of reach, shuddering slightly at the cool sensation of his undead flesh against her own. After a slight pause, he slowly folded his arms and focused his attention wholly on his teacher; Dillan mirrored him, crossing her legs in elegant derision.
Dr Murdoch was still smiling at his students, apparently unaware of Dillan’s evasive behaviour. “Now, Dillan, you’ll obviously be required to remain here, with me, for the remainder of the summer. We will have a few introductory lessons, as it were, and I will be able to fully answer any questions that you may have.” His expression changed to one of concern – “This won’t be an easy journey Dillan. The road to redemption is long and hard, with many challenges you will have to face along the way. I’m here to guide you along the right path but, ultimately, the journey and the choice is your own. Are you sure that you’re ready?”
“I am,” she replied firmly. “I want to change.”
“Excellent. Karl, you are free to go – though, of course, you are welcome to stay here during the rest of the summer vacation if you wish to do so,” he said, smiling kindly. He noticed that both of the young vampires seemed slightly agitated and uneasy, stirring in their seats; they could both feel the deadly sunlight creeping from just below the horizon, zinging sharply through their taut, pale skin. “You’re both free to get some rest now,” he said softly. He addressed Dillan with a sympathetic voice. “You can choose any of the coffins downstairs – I understand this is very new to you, but I can assure you that it’s not as difficult to get used to as you would think.”
Dillan smiled sarcastically, her brilliant white teeth flashing beautifully in the soft light of the office. “I’m sure I can get used to it,” she said dryly. “It is pretty appropriate after all.”
Murdoch glanced at his newest student with a slightly puzzled smile, as if he was not quite sure yet how to weigh her up as a vampire – after all, living with as a vampire will, more often than not, completely change the person intrinsically and irreversibly. He clasped his hands together and rested them on his desk as he bade the two vampires goodnight; he watched as, without saying a word, Karl led his enigmatic childe into the enveloping darkness leading to the basement.
He lifted himself from the comfortable chair and closed the door behind them, all the time curious as the why Vakaal had allowed Dillan to stay. Her words, on their own, did not seem to stir sympathy in the Elder; however, as their eyes met one another, something almost tangible seemed to form between them and, presumably, Vakaal saw something that changed his mind. It was at that moment that his expression softened considerably – the only time his expression had shown real change throughout the discussion.
Pondering on this strange new revelation, he returned to his desk where the large, leather-bound book lay before him. He seated himself once again on the padded velvet cushion of his intricately carved mahogany chair. Opening the large journal and carefully turning each yellowed page, he picked up his eagle feather quill, dipped it in the glossy pool of black ink and began to write as, unbeknownst to the vampires living below him, the deep red sun cast its brilliant rays across the ground before it.
Dillan felt a wave of cool, musty air caress her ashen skin as she descended the stairs behind the silent figure of her sire. After all that time of thinking that he held the answers to all of her questions, he had proven himself to be woefully inept. Until that point she had trusted him to protect her in this new and unfamiliar incarnation of the world, to explain the dangers and the new sensations that she couldn’t seem to eliminate or even understand. All of her trust and dependence on him seemed to have evaporated during the confrontation; she certainly would not make that mistake again.
Karl cleared his throat nervously as they finally reached the entrance to their sleeping room – a large, circular room surrounded by cold stone walls and lined with open coffins. Dillan looked around with interest at the different coffins, all lined with beautiful cushioned satin or silk of different colours contrasting vividly with the uniformly lacquered ebony of the exterior.
“So, uhm, my coffin is over there, with the dark blue lining,” he said quietly as he pointed to the coffin nearest to the door, unsure of how he had upset her but not yet eager to discover that source of her anger. “I guess you can choose any of these. If you need to know how to close it or anything-“
“I’m sure I can figure it out, Karl,” she sighed frostily. Karl was immediately silenced as, choosing not to argue the point (but feeling irritated all the same) he lay down quickly in the cool satin and closed the casket heavily.
Meanwhile, a coffin with a luxurious blood-red, silk interior had caught Dillan’s eye; relishing the bitter taste of irony with a wry smile, she instantly headed straight to it. A large, ornate oval mirror stood nearby to this coffin, the edges gilded in exquisite gold loops and knots that seemed to intertwine effortlessly and yet were infinitely complicated. However, the most noticeable thing about this mirror to Dillan was the object that appeared in the glass itself: her reflection – though not a clear one. She stopped immediately in front of it, entranced by her spectral visage which, only a few days ago, had been non-existent Her ghostly reflection stared, equally in awe, back at her as she began to examine her features, blurred and yet distinguishable enough. Her vivid green eyes gleamed hazily through the glass as her pale skin shimmered like a winter mist hovering just above the ground. She raised her hand slowly, tracking the clouded shape of her reflected hand moving in the mirror as her delicate fingers finally came to rest on the chilly surface. How strange, she thought, that she was able to see some sort of shadow of herself now, when for the last time she had looked in a mirror there had been nothing.
She tore herself away from the pale glitter of her reflection and, looking to the beautifully made coffin, became aware of her intense tiredness and exhaustion. With a deep, steadying breath she sat on the cushioned crimson of the interior, legs dangling slightly over the open side-panel of her new resting place. Then, lifting her legs into the coffin herself, she reached for the side-panel and lifted it closed, hearing the soft ‘click’ as it locked into place. It was with a distinct apprehension, followed by an even more distinct desire to remain resilient, that she pulled the heavy lid down slowly, lying down in the small, pitch black casket as she did so.
She closed her tired, weary eyes slowly and tried her hardest not to think about the events of the night – something which she managed to do quite admirably – though her mind whirred incessantly with images and memories of blood, hunger and death; of her mother gliding vacantly around the house, a ghost of her former self; of her stepfather cowering in intense and palpable fear of the monster standing before him. These images seemed to descend quickly, as though she were in a state of being half-asleep, into fragmented dreams of her loved ones – she remembered Mags, her best friend and confidant for the majority of her childhood who had, luckily, escaped her deathly clutches; once again she thought of her mother, as she dreamt of how the poor woman had her life mercilessly ripped away from her the day that her husband died – until finally her mind rested on the image of her beloved father, just as it had every day since she had lost him.
She remembered, as she had so often (and without difficulty), the last time she saw her dad alive, when she had implored him – as was the case on most weekdays – not to go to work but to stay at home and, on this particular day, help mommy and Dill bake some cookies. Instead, as expected, he hugged her tightly on the doorstep, kissed her and ruffled her hair playfully as she grinned broadly, enjoying the love of someone that she would miss for the whole day. She waved goodbye to him as he walked briskly down the path; he would wave back as he closed the wrought iron gate behind him. Mrs Vanderson then took Dillan’s hand and, with a happy smile and a cheerful final wave to her husband, led her inside their beautiful home. Her mother had not ever smiled in the same way again.
Not a night went by when these thoughts didn’t cross her mind with pain, strong as the twist of a blade, resonating in her heart. Even the awful acts she had committed, and the horrors she was now privy to remember for the rest of her days did not grant her respite from this mortal pain she endured from this profound memory. She had once thought that becoming a vampire meant that she would lose all of her humanity in favour of the ecstasy of blood, though it now became clear to her that this may not be the case after all.
She smiled, despite herself, in the dark cocoon. Some things, she thought gladly, never change.
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THE END!
...or is it? *chuckles suspiciously*
As ever, thanx to all who read this for taking the time to read a story that I've really put a lot of effort into over these past few months.
Just to keep you all updated, I'm currently working on a script (which is in the veeeerrry early stages of development lol) for VH season 2, episode 1. I've decided, for now anyway, to call it 'Full Moon Summer' - it will definitely take a fair amount of time as this is the first time I've written anything other than prose to be honest, but you never know you can do something until you try!
*End of story hugz for all*
well, here is the last chapter of The Slow Turning (after a rather long wait lol). Hope y'all enjoy 
***********************************************
Karl entered the room slowly, hesitantly, bowing his head as soon as Lord Vakaal was visible in the dim glow of the magnificent office. Dillan, who came in behind him, followed suit without looking at the dark, robed figure stood behind the headteacher’s desk. Murdoch was the last to enter as, with a severe expression and a heavy heart, he seated himself on his mahogany chair.
“Please be seated,” he said sternly yet politely, gesturing to the wooden chairs before him. “Lord Vakaal, an Elder of the convocation, has come here to discuss your future, Dillan.”
The ancient vampire slid from the shadows smoothly, with a fluidity that neither of the young vampires had expected. His face was stony, expressionless and rigid like that of a statue; there was something mesmerising about him, and yet something sinister – old evil.
“I trust that you remember what happened to you, Dillan,” Vakaal said slowly, breaking her fixation on his time-worn features.
“Yes, I do,” she replied demurely, unsure of how to address this venerable being. Her stomach twisted in knots of hunger and fear as she felt his harrowing, motionless stare pierce her very thoughts.
“The vampires who reside here,” he said, turning around and beginning to pace the room, “are part of a vitally important investigation concerning the integration – to some degree – of vampires in human society, as well as an exploration into the deepest realms of the vampiric nature. Our secret was nearly revealed to the world on several occasions, by vampire and mortal alike – you, however, are the only person who is able to remember anything.”
“Of course, this in itself is dangerous; the other vampires, including Karl, have proved themselves trustworthy, and so are not considered to be a danger to our experiment. We must, therefore, contain this information by any means possible.” He paused for a moment, turning round once again to face Dillan, who immediately looked at the floor in fear. “You will be terminated.”
Dillan’s heart plummeted with gut-wrenching, sickening force into her stomach. Her mouth was dry and stale, arid with despair as her deathly breath ripped out in ragged panic. Her time was nearly up. Karl rested his head in his hands, uncertain of what to do or who to turn to. His mind raced with pointless thoughts as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He saw Lord Vakaal turn and walk towards the shadows slowly, as if he was almost waiting for the young maker to challenge him. The pressure of his thoughts was building to breaking point – he couldn’t stand sitting helplessly next to his childe, unable to think, unable to act.
He rose, slowly and assertively as Vakaal, sensing his movement immediately, turned around to face him. He felt the slightest trickle of crimson sweat on the nape of his neck as he fixed his defiant gaze on the imposing figure of his Elder.
“With all due respect, my Lord, I don’t think you should kill her,” he said, pure anguish shaking each word furiously. “I’m her maker – I know what she feels, and I know she can be trusted. She wants to be part of the experiment; she doesn’t want to live life like the other vampires in the world. I know she wants to learn and be like us and I know that she trusts me implicitly. I know that she won’t endanger our situation. She came with me tonight knowing that her future was uncertain.” He slammed his fist on the table as Murdoch, showing unusual nervousness, jumped in alarm whilst Vakaal, unshaken, retained his gaze. “She’s young, she’s tasted the satisfaction of killing and yet she wants to be one of us! I am totally sure that she can do this.”
“She had no choice but to follow her maker tonight, Karl,” Vakaal replied instantly, a tiny note of anger overshadowing his heavy tones. “If she didn’t, she would remain a fugitive for eternity, alone and filled with burning questions. It is obvious that she would choose the easier path.”
“Don’t you think it’s better that we found her rather than the Fury?!” Karl cried in response. “If they had found her, that would be one more vampire fighting against us. Instead, she wants to be part of what we have here!”
“Sit down Karl!” Murdoch said firmly, raising his voice above Karl’s grieving tones as the vampire returned to his seat, beside himself with anger. He turned confidently to face Lord Vakaal. “My Lord, I firmly believe that myself and the others will be more than able to lead Dillan down the right path for her, but the only person truly able to speak on this subject is Dillan herself.” He looked to the quiet, pensive, red-haired vampire sitting still in her chair and addressed her softly. “What do you want to do with eternity?” he asked.
“I…I want to understand this,” she stuttered nervously, feeling the wise, penetrating stare of the Elder look to her once again. She swallowed, feeling the nauseating lump in her throat more than ever as clear thoughts seemed to fail her. What did she want from eternity – another chance to make something of herself? Did she even want this? Arguments for and against stumbled clumsily over each other in her thoughts as she tried to make sense of her feelings. She didn’t want to die, that was for certain; but she couldn’t go on killing as she had done prior to this moment. The lump in her throat throbbed as the blank expression of her dead mother flowed, unforgivably, into her consciousness like poison. By God, she thought, she had not meant to kill her – if anything, she was sickened by the very idea - but seeing those eyes, now empty and hollow, that were once filled with a blue so pure that they seemed to draw their colour from the sky itself, seemed to provoke a curious sympathy within her. Since the act, she had fervently maintained that her mother was probably happier now than she had been in a long time; the one thing Dillan didn’t want was to be happier in true death than in life – even if it was a mere half-life. She would not let the world get the better of her as her mother had allowed it to.
“I don’t want to die, I want to make something of myself,” she continued, feeling her confidence grow slightly as her thoughts began to clarify. “My life was taken away from me before I even had the chance to turn it around,” she said bitterly. “I didn’t ask for this, but I want to make the best of it. I’m ready and wiling to learn. That’s why I came to Mansbridge as a mortal anyway.” Despite the rebellious churning of her stomach and the deep blade of fear penetrating her unbeating heart, she scraped together the small amount of confidence she had left and matched Vakaal’s unblinking stare with her own emerald gaze. As their visions connected, she was sure she could feel him in her mind, exploring the depths of her conflicting thoughts with curled, bony fingers and a deep curiosity.
They continued to look at one another with the intensity that only vampires can portray; the fierce, jewelled green of Dillan’s eyes stared deeper into the inimitable depths of the Elder’s ice-blue irises, as cold and unforgiving as the heart of a glacier. A few seconds passed as they became entranced with one another, though the focus of their entrancement was not as obvious as it seemed. It was Lord Vakaal who looked away first as, with a look of slight satisfaction on his face, he turned to face Dr Murdoch.
“Very well,” the Elder said slowly, surveying the brave young vampire with interest once again. “Dr Murdoch, will you accept Dillan as your pupil?”
Dillan’s heart leapt into her throat with anticipation. Murdoch smiled broadly. “With pleasure, my Lord,” he replied graciously. Karl breathed a desperate sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Lord Vakaal,” Dillan said as blood-tears threatened to taint her pale cheeks. “You won’t regret this.”
Vakaal nodded and, with what Dillan could only decipher as a half-smile, retreated into the enveloping shadows and disappeared. She returned to her seat feeling light-headed, completely elated and yet desperately bloodthirsty. She had been convinced that her walk up those dank stone steps would be her last, as if she was walking to the gallows with the dark, hooded hangman waiting for her. Even throughout their ‘meeting’ she was certain that the odds were against her; in fact, she wasn’t even sure why the Elder had allowed her to live. Was it possible that they had some sort of connection, that he could read her thoughts? Whenever he had looked at her, she had always felt as if something was literally trying to silently drill into the back of her mind, trying to discover what even she could not, buried deep in her subconscious. When she had looked at him directly, it was almost as if there was an invisible connection between them, as subtle as a spider’s thread and yet definite as the buzzing of an electric current between them. He must have seen something that words cannot describe, she reasoned, as the words she spoke before this never once changed the expression on his wizened face.
Karl, who had been smiling quietly in his seat since the verdict, reached out his hand towards his childe, brushing his sleek skin against hers as he tried to wrap his hand around hers; she slowly moved her hand out of reach, shuddering slightly at the cool sensation of his undead flesh against her own. After a slight pause, he slowly folded his arms and focused his attention wholly on his teacher; Dillan mirrored him, crossing her legs in elegant derision.
Dr Murdoch was still smiling at his students, apparently unaware of Dillan’s evasive behaviour. “Now, Dillan, you’ll obviously be required to remain here, with me, for the remainder of the summer. We will have a few introductory lessons, as it were, and I will be able to fully answer any questions that you may have.” His expression changed to one of concern – “This won’t be an easy journey Dillan. The road to redemption is long and hard, with many challenges you will have to face along the way. I’m here to guide you along the right path but, ultimately, the journey and the choice is your own. Are you sure that you’re ready?”
“I am,” she replied firmly. “I want to change.”
“Excellent. Karl, you are free to go – though, of course, you are welcome to stay here during the rest of the summer vacation if you wish to do so,” he said, smiling kindly. He noticed that both of the young vampires seemed slightly agitated and uneasy, stirring in their seats; they could both feel the deadly sunlight creeping from just below the horizon, zinging sharply through their taut, pale skin. “You’re both free to get some rest now,” he said softly. He addressed Dillan with a sympathetic voice. “You can choose any of the coffins downstairs – I understand this is very new to you, but I can assure you that it’s not as difficult to get used to as you would think.”
Dillan smiled sarcastically, her brilliant white teeth flashing beautifully in the soft light of the office. “I’m sure I can get used to it,” she said dryly. “It is pretty appropriate after all.”
Murdoch glanced at his newest student with a slightly puzzled smile, as if he was not quite sure yet how to weigh her up as a vampire – after all, living with as a vampire will, more often than not, completely change the person intrinsically and irreversibly. He clasped his hands together and rested them on his desk as he bade the two vampires goodnight; he watched as, without saying a word, Karl led his enigmatic childe into the enveloping darkness leading to the basement.
He lifted himself from the comfortable chair and closed the door behind them, all the time curious as the why Vakaal had allowed Dillan to stay. Her words, on their own, did not seem to stir sympathy in the Elder; however, as their eyes met one another, something almost tangible seemed to form between them and, presumably, Vakaal saw something that changed his mind. It was at that moment that his expression softened considerably – the only time his expression had shown real change throughout the discussion.
Pondering on this strange new revelation, he returned to his desk where the large, leather-bound book lay before him. He seated himself once again on the padded velvet cushion of his intricately carved mahogany chair. Opening the large journal and carefully turning each yellowed page, he picked up his eagle feather quill, dipped it in the glossy pool of black ink and began to write as, unbeknownst to the vampires living below him, the deep red sun cast its brilliant rays across the ground before it.
Dillan felt a wave of cool, musty air caress her ashen skin as she descended the stairs behind the silent figure of her sire. After all that time of thinking that he held the answers to all of her questions, he had proven himself to be woefully inept. Until that point she had trusted him to protect her in this new and unfamiliar incarnation of the world, to explain the dangers and the new sensations that she couldn’t seem to eliminate or even understand. All of her trust and dependence on him seemed to have evaporated during the confrontation; she certainly would not make that mistake again.
Karl cleared his throat nervously as they finally reached the entrance to their sleeping room – a large, circular room surrounded by cold stone walls and lined with open coffins. Dillan looked around with interest at the different coffins, all lined with beautiful cushioned satin or silk of different colours contrasting vividly with the uniformly lacquered ebony of the exterior.
“So, uhm, my coffin is over there, with the dark blue lining,” he said quietly as he pointed to the coffin nearest to the door, unsure of how he had upset her but not yet eager to discover that source of her anger. “I guess you can choose any of these. If you need to know how to close it or anything-“
“I’m sure I can figure it out, Karl,” she sighed frostily. Karl was immediately silenced as, choosing not to argue the point (but feeling irritated all the same) he lay down quickly in the cool satin and closed the casket heavily.
Meanwhile, a coffin with a luxurious blood-red, silk interior had caught Dillan’s eye; relishing the bitter taste of irony with a wry smile, she instantly headed straight to it. A large, ornate oval mirror stood nearby to this coffin, the edges gilded in exquisite gold loops and knots that seemed to intertwine effortlessly and yet were infinitely complicated. However, the most noticeable thing about this mirror to Dillan was the object that appeared in the glass itself: her reflection – though not a clear one. She stopped immediately in front of it, entranced by her spectral visage which, only a few days ago, had been non-existent Her ghostly reflection stared, equally in awe, back at her as she began to examine her features, blurred and yet distinguishable enough. Her vivid green eyes gleamed hazily through the glass as her pale skin shimmered like a winter mist hovering just above the ground. She raised her hand slowly, tracking the clouded shape of her reflected hand moving in the mirror as her delicate fingers finally came to rest on the chilly surface. How strange, she thought, that she was able to see some sort of shadow of herself now, when for the last time she had looked in a mirror there had been nothing.
She tore herself away from the pale glitter of her reflection and, looking to the beautifully made coffin, became aware of her intense tiredness and exhaustion. With a deep, steadying breath she sat on the cushioned crimson of the interior, legs dangling slightly over the open side-panel of her new resting place. Then, lifting her legs into the coffin herself, she reached for the side-panel and lifted it closed, hearing the soft ‘click’ as it locked into place. It was with a distinct apprehension, followed by an even more distinct desire to remain resilient, that she pulled the heavy lid down slowly, lying down in the small, pitch black casket as she did so.
She closed her tired, weary eyes slowly and tried her hardest not to think about the events of the night – something which she managed to do quite admirably – though her mind whirred incessantly with images and memories of blood, hunger and death; of her mother gliding vacantly around the house, a ghost of her former self; of her stepfather cowering in intense and palpable fear of the monster standing before him. These images seemed to descend quickly, as though she were in a state of being half-asleep, into fragmented dreams of her loved ones – she remembered Mags, her best friend and confidant for the majority of her childhood who had, luckily, escaped her deathly clutches; once again she thought of her mother, as she dreamt of how the poor woman had her life mercilessly ripped away from her the day that her husband died – until finally her mind rested on the image of her beloved father, just as it had every day since she had lost him.
She remembered, as she had so often (and without difficulty), the last time she saw her dad alive, when she had implored him – as was the case on most weekdays – not to go to work but to stay at home and, on this particular day, help mommy and Dill bake some cookies. Instead, as expected, he hugged her tightly on the doorstep, kissed her and ruffled her hair playfully as she grinned broadly, enjoying the love of someone that she would miss for the whole day. She waved goodbye to him as he walked briskly down the path; he would wave back as he closed the wrought iron gate behind him. Mrs Vanderson then took Dillan’s hand and, with a happy smile and a cheerful final wave to her husband, led her inside their beautiful home. Her mother had not ever smiled in the same way again.
Not a night went by when these thoughts didn’t cross her mind with pain, strong as the twist of a blade, resonating in her heart. Even the awful acts she had committed, and the horrors she was now privy to remember for the rest of her days did not grant her respite from this mortal pain she endured from this profound memory. She had once thought that becoming a vampire meant that she would lose all of her humanity in favour of the ecstasy of blood, though it now became clear to her that this may not be the case after all.
She smiled, despite herself, in the dark cocoon. Some things, she thought gladly, never change.
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THE END!
...or is it? *chuckles suspiciously*As ever, thanx to all who read this for taking the time to read a story that I've really put a lot of effort into over these past few months.
Just to keep you all updated, I'm currently working on a script (which is in the veeeerrry early stages of development lol) for VH season 2, episode 1. I've decided, for now anyway, to call it 'Full Moon Summer' - it will definitely take a fair amount of time as this is the first time I've written anything other than prose to be honest, but you never know you can do something until you try!
*End of story hugz for all*
Hehe!
) - and I'm getting a really positive response for it. And, just like you said, there's so much I wanna use that I've come up with, but I'm somewhat over-committed with site building and other things at the moment. *eyes cross*
Sorry, Mad!