Post by Kenja on Jul 4, 2009 4:44:38 GMT -5
This was an unintentional but welcome bit of character development/discovering of history for a character of mine. It spans from around the early 18th century to modern times. Dara, my character, is a vampire but his family members are all less than half vampire and have mostly human physiology. I never refer to him by name because that's just how it worked out. And yes, it is very short.
He had been called away to Paris for his assistance in matters of the Family. It had gone simply enough and the issue was resolved within a matter of hours and it took less than half that to reach his estate. By the time he got there the attic and third floor had been consumed by the blaze and the screams had already begun.
His family was dying but still he could not reach them.
With the sound of a thunderclap, great black wings were unfurled and he leaped from the horse, intent on saving at least one person. Perhaps his darling Isobel, his sweet child, might yet be saved. Heedless of the glass that sought to shred him, he crashed through the window. Sable feathers fell like snow only to be devoured by the creeping blaze
Life went on yet he did not.
He said nothing when the council urged him to forget, to move on. He gave no response when Dominus status was granted to him. He simply packed what was spared from the inferno that burned his life to ashes and left. Apathy was his constant companion, urging him to do nothing for decades as he had been unable to do anything for his family.
He always remembered, but perhaps too much.
The screams woke him in the night and taunted him throughout the day. He would walk among their portraits, confiding and apologizing in equal measure. He lost them for the second time when those carefully crafted likenesses were taken away, probably burned as he should have been. He was left but one.
They had left the Earth and now remained only in his heart.
As the ages passed, the pain of it, the perpetually raw burn dulled to a sullen ache. He wondered if this was healing or forgetting. As the image of dancing gray-green eyes wove through his mind and the sound of a child's laughter rang in his ears, he decided that he finally might be getting better.
===========================
He had been called away to Paris for his assistance in matters of the Family. It had gone simply enough and the issue was resolved within a matter of hours and it took less than half that to reach his estate. By the time he got there the attic and third floor had been consumed by the blaze and the screams had already begun.
His family was dying but still he could not reach them.
With the sound of a thunderclap, great black wings were unfurled and he leaped from the horse, intent on saving at least one person. Perhaps his darling Isobel, his sweet child, might yet be saved. Heedless of the glass that sought to shred him, he crashed through the window. Sable feathers fell like snow only to be devoured by the creeping blaze
Life went on yet he did not.
He said nothing when the council urged him to forget, to move on. He gave no response when Dominus status was granted to him. He simply packed what was spared from the inferno that burned his life to ashes and left. Apathy was his constant companion, urging him to do nothing for decades as he had been unable to do anything for his family.
He always remembered, but perhaps too much.
The screams woke him in the night and taunted him throughout the day. He would walk among their portraits, confiding and apologizing in equal measure. He lost them for the second time when those carefully crafted likenesses were taken away, probably burned as he should have been. He was left but one.
They had left the Earth and now remained only in his heart.
As the ages passed, the pain of it, the perpetually raw burn dulled to a sullen ache. He wondered if this was healing or forgetting. As the image of dancing gray-green eyes wove through his mind and the sound of a child's laughter rang in his ears, he decided that he finally might be getting better.
