| She had always been a stunning creature, enchanting, and frightful all at once. People fumbled and stuttered whenever she addressed them, and they would gladly inconvenience themselves for just a smirk of contempt from this Hadean harlot. She's the one who convinced me that I should let go of all ties to my former existence, and join their sanguivorous crew. In fact. 'twas she who turned me, since Mori and I were fairly weary of each other's company by that time and he knew of my infatuation with Azraelle. She was a tall girl, but Mori was a tall man, so it was not noticeable at first, until she stood beside one. Her skin was albescent, almost devoid of any flush of life. I understood that she possessed this trait prior to becoming a vampyre. Her hair was shoulder length, thick and wavy, and black as mourning sables. Her heart was hardened by her past sufferings and, in moments of fury and rancour, could be as black and implacable as the dreams of Death. Occasionally, she shewed a glimmer of her past humanity, but very rarely, and not for long. Mori had a way of bringing out the worst in her, which he did with alarming regularity. "To keep her on her toes," he would jest. "You must keep them in a constant state of flux, Scriv old man, or they will quickly lose interest," he would advise me, them being the female of the species. Fortunately for me, she was in good humour this particular evening, and particularly amused with her new role as genetrix to her Hell-spawn. Initially, I didn't take to my new state that well so she nursed me for a night. I was too weak to move because of my fragile condition, having just been drained near to death, as well as my conflicted state of mind. She came to me that first night, and sat beside me on my bed. She sat me upright, and placed her long, cool, white fingers on either side of my face. Looking into my eyes with great intent, she reached into the folds of her dress, retrieving a kerchief and, with the tips of her lancifrom nails parted my locks whilst sopping up the sweat from my brow. She came in close to me and made an osculatory movement, which I mistook for a precursor to a kiss. My heart pounded with expectation, and I broke out in a fresh sweat. I felt a rush of emotions: desire, fear, and hunger, mostly hunger. She told me to relax, and open my mouth. She then placed her lips over mine and I felt a steady stream begin to trickle onto my tongue, warm, salty, and pungent. Realizing it was blood, I threw back my head, gagged, and commenced to cough it back up. She grabbed me firmly by the loose flesh under my jaw and sank her nails into my throat, pulling me up with a hostile strength that contrasted greatly with the tenderness she had shown me heretofore. She set a gaze on me, fierce and feral, hissed through her blood spattered lips. Crimson spittle flew as she assibilated. "Never waste the blood! Blood is your sustenance now, your slaker, your aphrodisiac, and your elixir vitae. From this day on, blood is your life!" Then, pulling me up by my jowels, she planted a cold hard kiss upon my lips, and gave me life eternal. I swooned, losing consciousness, in nigrescent afterglow, on the threshold of eternity. |