From his vantage point atop the spiralled tower, the figure stood headstrong, face in sharp profile as his chin jutted out against the milky moon. Leaves of three carved out grooves in the soft blocks of stone, and the tendrils shifted as the ivy slowly made it’s way towards the man’s feet, but still he stood, silent as a statue, paying no heed to the creeping plants. He made quite the striking figure with his feet set apart, chest out and his hands balled into fists at the side of his body.
A few minutes could have passed, a few hours, or even decades; there was no sense of the trickle of time at all, save for the breeze which caressed his fresh lacy shirt, the breeze which nuzzled his soft cape and ruffled his hair. The slightly wet strands gleamed, being in the state where it mostly soft and feathery, yet still faintly damp. Shaking his head to clear the hair from his eyes, Damien watched the events below him impassively.
A simple touch, a pluck of power and he’d been able to shield his signature scent from everyone present. Of course, if they’d happened to look up they would’ve seen him for he still didn’t have that much power yet. He didn’t even blink when Arashel used his magic to make the Faraday girl vanish from his sight.
Since, he’d dried himself and gotten dressed with the blankness of a soldier. Everything had been done so carefully, so immaculately, and so emotionlessly.
The owls hooted in the distance, joining in with the chorus of cicadas that hummed and throbbed in the still night air. From atop, he was able to see the whole of his garden in its infinite glory. Climbing camellias entwined with the delicate trumpets of honeysuckle, as lilies swayed gently, nodding themselves to sleep. The musical tinkling of the water fountains sent a shiver up Damien’s spine, as for a second he was briefly transported back into his past. Bathed in mystical anticipation, there was almost a quiver of eagerness in the air. Eagerness for what?
Some of the half turned statues in the overgrown sections gave a sense of forlorn hope, of a brief enchantment; yet they had been carefully placed with the utmost attention. Nothing here was out of place. Under the misty moonlight, anything could happen. Damien took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of roses. This really was his garden of forgotten time.
Almost like a teardrop, there was a slight quiver to the air surrounding him, as his magic took on a life of its own. Emotions spilled, from the body that was taut as a string, opening the floodgates. There was such an agglomeration of magical beings here that the air was thick with the pulse of power. And that power had to be channelled somewhere. Gradually, in the background, a slow mournful piano tune threaded through the garden, building up speed gradually until it became that of a lilting waltz. Haunting melodies sang as the notes intertwined, sorrowful and lonely in the sad minor key.
It sent a shiver down Damien’s spine, as he, uncertain, pricked up his ears to listen to the tune that was centuries old. The tune he thought had died with him. And now, thinking about it even more, seemed to breathe more life into it. Like billows on a fire, the melody erupted into passionate crescendos, as Damien’s thoughts were projected into a spinning, twirling, whirlwind mass of dance.
Everything around him became a dreamscape, and faintly, he heard the gasp of those below him, but it was too late to hold back the memory for it washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to overcome him. Blinking back the tears, he saw once again that hall of opulence, of sparkling gold and crystal, where every single person smiled a thousand smiles that were reflected in a thousand mirrors.
And yet, the waltz played on, oblivious. There he was, decked in similar finery, lilting to the beat with other vampires, females whom he hadn’t seen in centuries. He was laughing, making polite conversation, admiring a work of art, and dancing. There was an air about him, a spark which he’d lost over time. Damien couldn’t help but smile at the memory…but then he noticed that something wasn’t right. There were people here who hadn’t been there then- the winged man, the werewolf…the other girl…
Suddenly, with a forceful blast he slammed the memory shut, turning away. It was over, but…how dare they invade his personal thoughts! At once, he was flooded with emotions once again, only this time it was full of rage. Rage for everything he had suffered, rage for the unfairness of it all, rage for being the creature he was.
Taking off he flew through the woods, mind blank, running on pure emotion, even though he knew how dangerous it was. Dimly, he registered other monsters of the night, the hunters from the village tracking him down, but still he flew on, not caring in the slightest.
Just when he’d thought he could’ve attained pure happiness it had been snatched away from him and that had been the last straw. Flames licked at the back of his mind, as he was once again subject to the torture of being burnt by his own kind. He registered coming to a stop, and knew that he was slipping back into madness…he had to hold on…It had been too long since his last bout…he had to keep hold of himself…no more sudden emotions…swallowing painfully, he closed his eyes and let the flames subside, emptying his mind until it was the calm static, the lull before the storm.
He’d landed in a thicket. The lair of the beast is what his senses told him. Home of the infamous sadistic werewolf Chantelle De Rue, if she was still alive of course. She’d had no qualms about killing which he did have in his sane state, and he’d used her before, so he knew she was reliable.
“Chantelle?�
There was a rustling noise, then a yawn, of someone or something stirring.
“Yes, who is it? Who could wake me up at this ungodly hour?� There was a touch of darkness in that voice, of fur rubbing tantalisingly against the neck, and of an East European flavoured accent.
A pair of eyes glowed in the darkness, and then a figure could be made out, half chuckling. “My, my…could it really be our boy Damien?�
She came closer, still enveloped in darkness, which trailed around her like tendrils so he couldn’t quite make her out. Closing his eyes, he let her fingers trail across his face as she mapped out his features.
“You have changed a lot since I last saw you, boy. We all thought you’d gone to oblivion! But not I. I always knew that you would still be here somewhere. So much killing! Oh, there are so many monsters out there baying for your blood Damien, you have been such a bad boy!"
He tried to shake his head, but Chantelle's fingers against his chin held firm.
"Do not deny it! And…your face is blank, it has nothing of the emotion I remember you having.� Her voice rose and fell with the rich accented “r� sounds, each syllable was rolled off the tongue like creamy chocolate.
“Come to me, and let me kiss you better.�
Damien bowed his head, shaking it from side to side. “Not tonight Chantelle. I have a favour to ask of you.�
“A favour?� She laughed richly. “You abandon me for hell knows how long and you expect a favour from me?�
“Yes,� was all he said. Meeting her glowing eyes, which was still the only clear feature of her, Damien swallowed. “I want a being destroyed, quickly, before I come to my senses.�
“Oh yes?� There was a hint of amusement in her voice.
“It is a girl…�
((Sorry for the length of this post!!! And argh...what's going on with Damien? O_o))
