Draven : Draven

Eternity...

2008-03-01T20:18:57Z

Chapter Eight ~ Eternity

City of Sanguine ~ Ruins of the Acontinum Estate

Six Years after Rome

Draven's eyes opened slowly and her vision came into focus. The room she was in, she recognized from years ago. Close to six now, at least. Sitting up, she pushed the sheets from her. The room was lavish to say the least. There were no real words to describe it. The rich earthy tones, the antique furniture collected over various centuries of traveling, some of which she had personally bought for him. There was movement off to her right. Instinctively, Draven's had reached beneath the pillow, fingers grasping the cool metal of the gun. He remembered that she always kept a weapon of some sort beneath her pillow as she slept. It brought a small smile to her lips.

"Dasani?"

"Of course." His voice was just as she remembered. For a moment, Draven closed her eyes, letting the information sink in. She shouldn't be surprised. This wasn't the first time he had returned from Death. The first time had been six years ago in Rome...

"We have to get away, Draven. They're sending Assassins after us."

She was confused. "Why?"

"I don't know. Just trust me on this." Dasani replied, lifting a hand to rest the palm of it against her face. "The Lycan's want us both dead. I have this feeling that they're helping the Mortuus."

"Fuck."

"We don't have time for that." A smile graced his lips.

"Ha ha. Very funny, Dasani."

"I thought it was."

Draven shook the memory from her mind. Best not dwell in the past. "I thought that this last time was it."

"As did I. I made a bargin. But that bargining was not without its price." He shifted then, pushing himself up from the chair in which he sat. Nothing more than a lounge chair set beside the bed. It seemed out of place in this room. His hair was the same, perhaps a bit longer. The same pitch black as hers, pin straight. It was his eyes that were different. Instead of their ever changing colors, they were now a milky gray, almost silver.

"They took your sight."

"Yes." Dasani closed that distance between them, letting his fingertips trace the curve of her jaw. "I have longed to see your face again, Draven. But alas, I can not. At least not yet." He sighed softly, leaning his head down to hers. "My Snow White Queen." It was a nickname he had called her almost the moment they realized the strength of the bond between them. It was far stronger than the one that had been between her and Karise. Dasani and Draven were truly soulmates in every sense of the word. It was evident in the way he kept coming back into her life when she assumed Absolute Death had claimed him.

Draven reached up with her own hands, allowing them to frame his face. The pads of her thumbs caressed the smooth grayish skin of his cheeks, just beneath his eyes.

"Will you kiss this blind man, Draven?"

A small smile curved the corners of her lips. "Yes, of course. You never have a need to ask that of me."

Further conversation was put on hold, at least for the moment. Draven tilted her head up just enough. At first, the kiss was the barest of contacts. A brush of the lips. But as the past six years of separation caught up with them, it became something much more. Reluctantly, she pulled back just enough to gain her breath. It all came flooding back...

~~~~~~~~

Not even two weeks after leaving the Sanguine Veil, another lover had been burried. Draven stood within the center of Dasani's crypt. The large black marble affair glittered silver beneath the light of the moon. It should have been her that died, not him. Sighing softly, Draven reached out and touched the large marble angel in front of her. It was now time for her to leave Rome. More assassins were coming. This was a battle she had to now fight alone.

"I love you, Dasani. I will join you soon in the afterlife." Draven vowed softly, a few tears slipping from her eyes and trailing down her pale cheeks. Her fingers reluctantly lifted from the angel to slip into the pocket of her leather trench coat. She bowed her head and turned on the heel of her boot, but before she reached the door, a presence caught her attention. Her bright green eyes searched around the chamer, althought she appeared to be alone, Draven knew better.

"They should have killed me, Stratovarius." Even though she still had not seen what her Assassin friend looked like, she had in fact learned his name. Draven didn't wait for an answer, she simply opened the door and joined the rest of civilization beneath the moonlight. She knew Stratovarius would follow her where ever she went, his month wasn't up yet. There was still a good three weeks left. But, to be honest, Draven didn't care anymore. Her emotions, her hopes and dreams died with Dasani.

Draven had not heard the commotion. She was too far away. Dasani's crypt trembled, the marble cracking under intense pressure. He hadn't been dead, merely in a comatose state.

He stirred from within, within such a dreadful tomb, constructed to exhonorate his life, or afterlife. Such a terrible thing wasn't necissary for those who knew who he was. He found himself in the darkness, much as he had been for the majority of his existence, but more curiously, he found himself without his prefered clothing. A simple shirt and pants were what he was garbed in, which simply would not do.

His hand crept up from aside his waist, fingertips tapping quite delicately against the stone surface above him. It was thin, the eerie click resounded about the tomb about him. His fingertips straightened, and once having placed his palm against it, he pushed it slowly upward.

He sat up in unison to pushing, untill the stone slab slid to the side and shattered on the ground.

He turned his head to the left, and placed his right hand against his chin, softly pushing it into a tilt untill a number of pops were heard. He next began climbing out. It took him a few moments, afterall, he had been cramped in there for a few hours, at the very least. His eyes squinted and he stepped into the cool night air, a gentle whisp of the east wind caught against his left cheek and tugged playfully at his hair. He savored the moment. An immortal has nothing in larger a quantity than time, but he found himself amazed at how he couldn't recall the last instant he simply stood in the moonlight and enjoyed the touch of a soft breeze.

He turned to his left, suddenly unable to remember where he was. Taking a few unstable strides forward, he found his feet in a large patch of grass. His eyes immediately turned downward at his bare feet. It was cold, and he wiggled his toes in the grass, which had collected the dew of the night. Then, a feeling came about him, an emotion. A subtle joy began mustering in his stomach before continuing through his entire body.

It wasn't long after it faded that he realized that he couldn't remember his name, what day it was or why he was in a tomb. He knew he was a vampire, but he somehow thought that he could have come up with something far more elegant than a tomb to mask himself in the shadows while the sun assaulted the planet with it's rays. There was a ring on his right ring finger, but he couldn't remember how he obtained it. It was simply a silver band, but it seemed to him that it held some sort of significance.

He looked at his surroundings, hoping for something familiar, but found nothing. Next, he unceremoniously fell into a sitting position upon the grass and looked up at the sky. He saw formations of stars that he couldn't remember the names of, and the moon. He didn't know why, but his current attire seemed to annoy him, so he discarded the shirt. Poor manners it would have been to be walking around in the bulk, so he kept the pants, at least untill he found new ones to take their place.

He got up again and continued walking. Walking toward lights, street lights. It didn't take him long to find a closed shop which boasted clothing that he enjoyed the mere sight of. Suddenly, upon impulse, he punched the window. Naturally, it shattered behind the attack, and he stepped in through the display window, searching through what was in the store for his sizes, which he seemed to remember, even if he couldn't remember anything else.

A white poet shirt was put on along with a pair of fine dress shoes, the dirt ridden pants which he was wearing were replaced with what looked to be black leather pants. He chose them one size larger than his actual size, considering that he didn't feel like being constricted. It took him all of two seconds to decide to take another of the same shirt, another pair of shoes and another of the same pants with him, so he did.

As he began to exit, he heard sirens. It became appearant to him in that moment that he had done something illegal, and authority figures were on their way to detain him for commiting such crimes. He stepped back through the display window, the spare shirt, pants and shoes in hand and simply stood there, awaiting the arrival of the police. The words "Run, you jack-ass." shouted at him from within, but he ignored them and continued to wait.

Draven had heard the sirens, but paid them no heed as they rushed past her in a blur of white and flashing lights. A black carry-on bag was slung casually over her shoulder, containing quite a various assortment of weaponry within. Her eyes flashed their endless bright green, for but a moment as she glanced up. Standing, just a few feet away were those group of Lycanthropes that had ambused the hotel room. She had remembered their faces very well indeed, vowing that she would see them again and put an end to their suffering, shit filled existence. A single hand reached into an inner pocket of her ground length trench coat of black leather, removing but a single explosive device. Carefully, she raised the home-made bomb and turned the dial with a gentle clamp of her teeth. For a moment, she just stared at it, wondering if perhaps she should just wade into the group and take them down with her. Deciding against such tactics, Draven flicked her wrist, sending the device flying through the air like a frisbe. One of the Lycanthropes, the dumbest of the pack, caught it, staring down at it as if he had no clue what it was. However, before the Lycanthropes could turn and catch the source from whence it had came, Draven was gone.

Carefully leaping the width of the alley to another rooftop, she rolled, stood back up, and just kept casually walking. At the right time, merely a few seconds, the bomb exploded. There was yelps as each Lycan was blown apart. The device had been encased in a thin sheet of silver, making any fragments very deadly had they been struck by them. There was no expression on Draven's face, just an utterly, emotionless void.

It didn't take long for them to get from Draven's position to the shop. When they arrived, Dasani was standing there in a way that would suggest either defiance or cooperation. How they viewed it would be revealed as soon as they set foot from the car.

They drew their weapons as they got from the car and began to approach him. "Get on the ground, now!" one shouted. Dasani heard it, but couldn't imagine getting on the ground after being commanded. He didn't know why that was, but he stood. They saw it as defiance and directed the sights of their guns toward Dasani's chest. The other police officer repeated what his partner had said. Something boiled inside Dasani's chest and out came a spurt of slander.

"How about you douchebags get on the ground?"

The first cop opened fire first, the second followed. Three rounds each, scattered aimlessly across Dasani's chest. He looked down at the bullet holes in some sort of astonishment, and brought his hand up to the now melting fabric of the poet's shirt. His hand cupped beneith a wound and it quickly filled with blood, which he slung nearly carelessly toward one of the cops.

The blood had spattered across his face and shortly afterward, his face began to melt. The blood was seeping in with a light hissing sound, but was mostly overpowered by the police officer's screams of pain.

The second cop ran to the car and called for backup before opening fire once more. The thick cracks of ignited gunpowder screamed about them both as the bullets penetrated through Dasani's chest and stomach before exiting from his back. Dasani didn't act, or at least he didn't mean to.

The next thing he knew, he was standing beside the cop, his hand burried into the cop's side, through the ribcage, through the left lung and was gripping a quickly throbbing heart. He retracted his hand and watched the police officer fall to the ground and begin bleeding.

More sirens blared. More cops began on their way.

More sirens caught Draven's attention. She stopped walking and settled the bag down at her feet. Crouching upon the ledge of the roof, she watched as the cars spend past her position and towards a shop not to far away from where she was. Glancing from the cop cars to the mess at the store's front, she nearly fell from her perch. An unseen hand, which she could only guess was Stratovarius pulled her back onto the ledge. It couldn't be Dasani. She had witnessed the mass that had been his body after the Lycanthrope attack.

Before she even realized it, Draven had a small compact rocket launcher slung casually over her shoulder. Popping it out to it's full size, she loaded it, and took aim. Gracefully, her finger pressed down upon the small red button. There was a woosh of air then silence. That was until, the rocket found it's target. The first cop car in the caravan that was making a beeline towards the shop. Almost instantly, Draven was in motion. She had shed the trench coat along the way, but the bag of weaponry she had picked up, just in case she may have need of it. The flames from the wrecked cop cars nearly reached the highest peak of one of the buildings roofs.

There was no sound as she slowed her run to a casual walk along the ledge of the shop, just above the chaos.

He looked onward toward the explosion with an odd calm, as if he had no reason to be afraid of what was going on. What's more, he wasn't fearful of the police. Some dark portion down deep inside him beckoned that they hurried to meet their death, and he tagged along behind.

They did as the darkness asked, and hurried out of their cop cars, ignoring the destroyed car infront of them. None of them saw the rocket, so they assumed that Dasani had done it. They opened fire. Dasani's figure was peppered with standard, police issue 9mm rounds. More blood spilled from his body and began to melt away the fabric of his pants. The darkness was cast aside and Dasani became angry. Soon he would be in the nude because of these infantile police officers.

His fingernails burst outbound from the tips of his digits, metallic tallons bursting through the rot of black that was once housed by his nails. The flesh tore way to the tallons and a meaty gore was flung from his fingers, traveling but a few feet untill falling on the street and releasing a soft hiss.

His iris flattened vertically for a second, almost appearing to be a blink without the motion from his eye lid, before returning to it's normal circular shape. The fingertips on his left hand were torn open as he took stride, the pain was insignificant, and now more tallons. The closest cop was no match, the index, middle and ring fingers on Dasani's right hand tore through the thin layers of flesh across his forehead, splitting the skull open. His arm lashed to the side, slinging the cop's spasticly twitching figure into his partner. The tallons on his left hand fell off into his now free right hand before being tossed toward the next cop in sight. Like large spiked bullets, they shot through the air, and much like what had happened to Dasani, they penetrated the kevlar, entered the chest and exploded from the police officer's hindside.

The next was female, but Dasani didn't discriminate gender, latching his fingers around her throat and raising her into the air before him just in time for her body to catch the bullets that her partner fired. Her frame dropped to the ground and Dasani vanished, reappearing behind the partner. His left hand balled to a fist and was thrown into the cop's side, catching in full his liver. The body stiffened for a moment and then collapsed into Dasani's grip.

His lips spread, revealing the enlongated canines. He lunged forward and burried them into sweet flesh. Fresh blood spilled into his mouth and a nearly orgasmic feeling flushed over his body. His body twitched for a moment and he almost released the cop, but was craving the feeling's continuation far too much to release. He drank his fill and bit down deeper, tearing away a massive section of the cop's throat before discarding his body onto the ground.

He tore away the destroyed clothing and began back toward the shop in the nude. As he approached he collected the spare clothing that he'd dropped on the ground and walked back though the shattered window. He put the clothes on, once more grabbed an extra pair of everything and then walked back out into the street as if nothing had happened at all.

"Fucking humans."

It was him. She couldn't mistake that, however, something was different. Draven silently dropped down onto the awning that shot over the sidewalk and mass of carnage. Like an acrobat, she suspended herself upside down which placed her almost directly next to Dasani who had stepped out from the shop's broken window.

"My my, what a web of carnage we creatures of the night weave."

Without awaiting for a response, she let go of the awning with her legs, dropping down to the pavement below. Draven's body tensed, waiting for a blow, or perhaps a comment of dismisal. She fought the urge to touch him to see if he were real. The evidence of such things lay strewn across the pavement in a carnal mass.

He simply turned his head and looked at her, left eye brow peaking. With almost no hesistation, he simply replied in question.

"Who are you?"

That darkness in him nearly twisted his intestines in a knot as he inquired, but he ignored it and showed no sign of such a hostile internal action. Casually, he slung the spare shirt and pants over his right shoulder and kept the shoes hanging from his left index and middle fingers. His head turned again to see what he'd done and looked onward in near shock. He knew he did that, and it wasn't the dark half, but it still didn't seem like he was capable of it.

Strands of black hair shifted in front of her face as the wind tugged them, hiding a sizable portion of her face, save for one bright neon green eye.

"Draven." She replied simply, bowing gingerly from the waist. "I know who and what you are, but it is entirely up to you on which decision you make. You can either let me help you, accompany me to Egypt, or you can go on your own merry way, and figure out things for yourself."

Draven reached up, brushing those stubborn strands of hair from her face. She shifted the carry-on bag, moving it to rest behind her instead of at her side.

"Now, I know it is an odd request seeing as how you do not remember who I am. But I knew you before you woke up in that tomb. I knew you when you were Human, Dasani."

Draven turned then, stepping over a mutilated corpse of a police officer. "Either decision you make is yours and yours alone." She didn't wait for a response, she just simply, and casually began walking away.

"How do you know me from my humanity?"

He screamed after her quickly escaping outline. He began trotting after her, unknowing of who she was or what she was getting at with saying such things. He couldn't even remember his humanity, couldn't remember his name, it was all a blankness that seemed to suck in everything that he should know, much like a black hole.

"I know you because I was the one who Transformed you. In your Mortal life, you were dying. You came to me, asking me to help you because you were not ready to die."

Draven stopped then, turning to glance over her shoulder, as she did, the wind tugged at her hair again, shoving it back in front of her face. The one, bright green eye visible, just barely.

"It would still appear that you are not ready to die, Dasani. I would hope not. Your Bloodline, which is one of six needs to be reborn. As you have witnessed eariler this evening, your blood, in itself is a weapon. Wounded, it can physically harm, or even kill anyone or anything it touches. However, if someone were to feed directly from the jugular, they would be unharmed. There is much that I know, dear Dasani, and much that you need help in remembering. That is all that I am offering you. Is help."

She sighed softly for a moment and tilted her head to the ground. "You and I, you could say, were lovers before you woke up in that tomb. This is why I help you."

"Much have I to remember, then. Perhaps that man is what lurks in my stomach, twisting at my insides."

He found himself stopping, unable to take another step. His hand crept up to his face and his fingernails, which had already returned, scratched softly at the flesh. It seemed as though the dark half was making sure that it was really there. That everything was intact. It seemed that the dark half didn't know how he died either, and that was it's reason for checking.

Draven chuckled softly.

"It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest."

A small smile crossed her lips, revealing the very fine and sharp points of her canines.

"I must warn you. There are other Vampires after me, trying to kill me. They have been for a few weeks now. They seek to kill me. There's an Assassin friend of mine that follows me, making sure that I stay alive."

She reached behind her and patted the leather carry-on. "I, however, am not without my own means of retaliation, as I'm sure you may have witnessed earlier with the explosion of that cop car that led the second onslaught of police."

"And perhaps they will suffer the fate of those police officers. And are you speaking of that figure on the roof two buildings down?"

He saw the assasin, of course he did. Since the police arrived, he'd been searching around everywhere to ensure that he wouldn't have any more surprises. He did, though, with this woman. He couldn't remember her in the slightest, and his dark half twisted his gut more and more furiously as they conversed.

"That would be the one, yes."

Draven replied casually, almost matter of factly. A smile tugged just at a single corner of her mouth. She glanced up towards that specified building and gave a courtly nod. Draven turned her attention back towards Dasani and gave a small sigh. This was something she had feared, loosing Dasani. Physically, she hadn't, but mentally, and emotionally, her worst fears came true. She didn't know what to say to ease the furiously twisting dark side within him.

"So, what's in Egypt, Draven?"

He wasn't positive as to where that question came from, but he assumed curiosity. Afterall, this was a new world to him. He knew where Egypt was and what it was like, but he didn't know how he knew such things. It mattered little. She said that that was where she was going, and he figured that he'd follow her, perhaps jog his memory a bit in doing so.

"In Egypt, there is another like us. Her name is Jezza. She is the head of the Dimensia Bloodline. Vampires that have the ability to rift, teleport to places that are visible to them. My Bloodline, the Requiem Bloodline, are able to heal Vampires, no matter what damage they may have sustained. However, we Requiem use the feeling of lust, desire and live to heal Some may consider us the Masters of Seduction."

Draven shrugged her shoulders casually and let them fall.

"After living 30,000 plus years, you tend to learn a few things in the evolutionary chain."

Another set of sirens could be heard in the vague distance.

"I don't know about you, but I think we need to get out of Rome before we are detained for the duration of daylight hours. I, for one, am not willing to turn into a crispy critter inside of a steel cage."

"Sun up is, more or less, in six hours. Are you sure we can make it out of the city and to Egypt before the sun rises?"

Ignorance was bliss, and Dasani was dancing in it. He'd forgotten all of the tricks of the trade, all he knew was that he was an immortal, and he had amnesia. He hadn't the slightest clue that planes had shutters on all the windows, he couldn't even remember ever being on a plane. He was going to have his experience with it, though. That was to be sure.

"There have been quite a few advancements in technology, Dasani, that can allow us to travel during daylight hours. We need not worry."

Shifting the bag more comftorable on her shoulder, Draven led the way, away from the carnage, and towards the private air strip where the jet awaited their arrival.

It wasn't long before they were safely secured on the jet, and in the air, heading towards their new point of destination, Egypt. She didn't alert Jezza ahead of time, Draven already knew that once they hit the desert sands, the Dimensia Vampire would know of their presence. Glancing up from her book of notes that she had taken on the experiments of Bloodessence, her eyes traveled over Dasani for a brief moment. There was a sadness that crept into her, one that she couldn't quite place where it came from. It wasn't her sadness. Perhaps it came from Dasani himself, through the connection that they had once shared. If he remembered how to use it, he could gain the knowledge of his life from her memories.

Draven closed the notebook and placed it back in a small pocket of the carry-on bag. "There is a way for you to learn the facts of your life, Dasani, more quicker that poking around in journals and notes. As your Sire, even though you are of a different Bloodline, there is a connection between us, one that can allow us to share memories, emotions, and even thoughts. My walls were down the moment I knew you had no recollection of memory. All you have to do, is let yours down, and the knowledge will come."

"I did notice things, just images, flashing through my mind. But I don't think I want to remember everything all at once. Through amnesia, I've obviously become a different person from this Dasani, who would more than likely be my dark side. What if I discover things too quickly and become disgusted with myself? I've never felt it, or at least I don't think I have, but it must be a terrible feeling."

His fingertips tapped on his knee softly, in rhythm. The soft thuds carried well into his ears, and he soon became surrounded by it and nothing else. He became obsessed with the beat, he hadn't heard it before, but now he was duplicating it. He wanted to know why, but sometimes, things are best unknown. At least for a short while.

"How did I come to be, Draven? I mean, be what I am, an immortal."

"That is a long story in itself, my dear, however, we do have enough time for me to give you, at least, a brief summary."

A small smile crossed her lips. Her eyes, momentarily turned towards her lap.

"You were born Human, in a monistary in Rome some years ago. Close to 17,854 if I am not mistaken. You were dying from an incurable cancer. One that was rare and has a very low survival rate. You came to me, asking for help. My reputation as being a gifted Healer proceeded the reputation of what I actually was. I informed you of my Vampiricy, but it didn't seem to phase you. You told me that you weren't ready to die. You're time wasn't up. You couldn't explain it, but you just knew that you were not meant to give up living just yet. Intrigued, I Transformed you, took your blood, giving you my own in return. My blood, being a rare Healing property on it's own, manipulated the cancerous cells, killing them instantly. However, my blood also manipulated your own, creating it into a weapon itself. Thusly creating a new Bloodline of the Sanguine Veil."

Her eyes shifted up then, taking in the expression etched upon his face.

"Everything happens for a reason. You were sent to me for a reason. Your being reborn this night, happened for a reason. But, what those reason's are, are for you alone to answer. This is not my journey in life. I can only guide you as I have done the best I could in the past."

She laughed then, a snorting chuckle passing her lips. "The fearless, self-centered Draven giving advice on how to make decisions in life. Now that is comedy, maybe even a tragic comedy."

Draven reached up and brushed those stubborn strands of black hair from her face a gentle sigh passing her lips. "After I speak with Jezza, I think it is time I retire and return home to Romania."

"Dying? I wasn't ready for death. I guess I'm still not ready for death. Restless souls stay restless, I suppose"

His hand rubbed softly at his temple for a few moments before there was a smell. Something like burnt rubber. He looked around and saw nothing aflame. He dismissed it. It assaulted him once more. It was a horrible scent. He blinked a few times and looked around once more. Smoke began to rise from the flooring. His eyes widened suddenly and he looked on in horror as what appeared to be an illusion appeared infront of him.

"You miserable fuck, Dasani! Why can't you just fucking die so I can have your soul?!"

It was Keirisin, the demon that Dasani had invited into his body before. Dasani was supposed to die after the attack, not heal, not continue breathing. Keirisin was pissed, Dasani's soul would have greatly increased his power, but low and behold, Dasani was alive and kept his soul.

"Great, now I'm hallucinating."

"You're not the only one. Normally, I can't see him, but then again, when Keirisin got pissed off, the whole world knew it."

Draven sighed softly, leaning her head to rest upon her closed fingers.

"You, Keirisin, never give up. I think it's about high time you learned that Dasani's soul will never be yours. At least not until Dasani is ready to give it up, and by the looks of it, it doesn't look to be anytime soon. Go back where you belong and leave us alone."

There was a seething hatred and anger Draven had for Keirisin, they had shared witty comments far into the night for many years and both never backed down. But this night, she was tired of his pointless interruptions.

"I..I know this...thing? What the hell is it?"

He extended his arm and put his hand directly through what was Keirisin. The illusion-like mass seemed to part so his hand could pass through. He waved his hand through it once, but it didn't make it go away. It was interesting, yes, but what did it want with Dasani's soul, why would it want his soul? These were things that puzzled him. He retracted his hand and waved at the smoky light-show dismissively. He'd had his fill of strange things for the day, and now this thing needed to leave.

"Don't you wave me away, you punk. Give me your soul!"

What would represent it's hand lashed forward, trying to snatch Dasani's soul from his chest, but broke away and scattered just before it reached his chest. Dasani began blocking this thing out, ignoring it. It'd have to leave sooner or later. Dasani wanted it to be sooner, but beggers can't be choosers.

"This thing, in lamens terms is nothing more than a pain in the ass. If it is ignored, then eventually, it will go away. As for the specific's as to what it is, well, it's more like a Demonic leech. It latches onto a host in hopes of gaining its soul."

Draven arched a single brow faintly and sighed once more. The fingertips of her opposite hand fiddled absent mindedly with the sheath of silver needles resting against her upper left thigh. These needles were approximately a foot and a half, two feet in length, maybe half and inch to an inch in diameter. An obscure and rare weapon choice, but none the less, Draven's favorite. She was rather accurate with them, and hardly ever missed the intended target. But, there was a first time for everything. She just pittied the fool that made her miss.

"You can have it when I'm finished using it."

Dasani stated calmly. His left hand waved through the figure a single time, as if dismissal. His right hand moved to his face and scratched at his chin softly as he looked downward at the time piece that was in his left pocket. He pressed the button and the lid flew open. It was around ten in the morning, which meant that the sun was up. After that, he became rather fidgety. Scratching his chin every so often and rapidly tapping the heel of his shoe on the floor. He was in a flying cage that could easily fall and kill him. The sun was on them aswell. What if something happened, and light got in. There were very many reflective surfaces in the plane. It could be made into the equivilency of a house of mirrors. He and Draven trapped inside to be incinerated.

Were he his old self, he simply wouldn't care. But as things were, he did care. There was very little he wasn't taking into consideration.

"Are you alright?" Dasani's voice seemed full of concern. She had fallen silent. He dropped his shields, letting the link between them open. He felt her anguish and tourment and knew that she was remembering the past. "The past is just that, Draven, past. Let it be. Let it lay in its soils and be nothing but memories, some good some bad. Let us live in the now."

"I can't as long as that Leech is still on your tail. I know he's one of the ones you bargined with. He has a strong desire for your soul, Dasani. He has for centuries."

"You're learning everything from my mind."

"Of course. Just as you are learning everything from mine."

He smiled and it nearly tore her heart in pieces. It was a sad smile. "If we go after the Demons, Draven, one of us may or may not come out of this alive."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. If you don't want to do this you don't have to."

"I'm not letting you go alone. The last time I did that, I nearly lost you."

"That was a long time ago, Dasani. I've had alot more centuries of practice."

"I can't help but worry, Draven. I've loved you from the moment I saw you rip their hearts out."

"Somehow that's not a very good visual of realizing you love someone."

Dasani chuckled. "I've never been one for the common things of life."

"Ain't that the truth."

Contemplation...

2008-03-01T20:17:22Z

Chapter Seven ~ Fully Alive

City of Sanguine ~ Black Dahlia

Six Years after Rome

Draven contemplated ending this whole bloody war once and for all. The Mortuus cocksuckers were getting on the last of her nerves. Not only had they taken everyone she had ever loved, but they were still trying to kill her. After forty thousand plus years, you would think they'd find something better with their damn time that to pester the shit out of her, but oh no. They were like a fucking disease. Didn't they take enough in Rome, in Egypt? The Council didn't know what had happened, save for her, Stratovarius, and Dasani. Dasani he was dead, and Stratovarius wasn't talking. Sighing to herself, she rubbed at her temples absent mindedly. The Mortuus Clan, a sect of Rogue Vampires who wanted to rid the world of the Sanguine Veil and prey openly on Humanity. Draven would be damned if she would allow them to do that. She had made a promise centuries ago. She had promised Karise as he lay dying in her arms that she would never let the Veil fall, not as long as she lived. Draven had survived this long. She wasn't about to let some petty Children get the best of her.

The Scrolls of An'ket were strewn about the table before her. They had been found at last, thanks to Jezza and her many connections throughout Egypt and Southern Africa. Vangelo sat across from her, his dark brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wore a white button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the muscled forearms he possessed. The charcol gray slacks looked comftorable enough. He was a business man afterall, dealing mostly within antiquities now a days.

"I am amazed. These Scrolls were thought to have been lost." Vangelo looked up from his translation of the third page. "You have translated this already?"

"Most of it, yes." Draven replied still rubbing at her temples.

"I am impressed. With both you and Jezza."

"This could be the whole reason behind why the Mortuus keep attacking us. It could be why they're trying to take me out of the picture. It seems that from my lovers in the past have passed onto me their gifts when they died. Or it could be exactly what these Scrolls prophisized."

"Do you really think you're the Prophet, Draven?"

"Do you?"

Vangelo considered it for a moment. "To be honest with you, yes I do. You were always different from us all. Equal in intelligence, power, speed and strength, but there was always something about you that screamed different. Something that made you powerful. Now we know why. It is rumored among the Fledgings that you are the sole Prognator for the Vampire race."

"We all know how much bullshit that is."

"Yes, but they will view you as a God, Draven."

"I don't want to be a God, Vangelo. I want to keep this Veil in place."

"It has held for well over forty thousand years, and any time it is tried, the bonds hold tight. They can not break us, Draven. Not after all we've been through."

"I do hope you're right."

"Don't tell me you're loosing faith."

"Loosing faith, no, but look at the new generations of Children we have, Vangelo. They are not ready for this battle. How can we train them like old times when those days are gone? They died with-"

"Don't, Draven. The old days didn't die and you know it. This new generation doesn't understand the Elders. They think we are nothing more than disillusioned senior citizens."

"They need a new lesson."

"Yes, they do."

"Then we must call a Meeting. All of us. The Circle of Six and the entire Nation of our kind. We must train and prepare them."

Vangelo smiled and reached across the table to rest his hand against her own. "They would be proud of you."

A sad smile touched her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I know." Draven reached down and ran her fingers lovingly through her daughters full head of black curls. Radraven had busied herself with scribbling on a piece of black parchment with a black crayon. She was definately her father. Her skin held just the barest trace of gray. She was growing quickly. Six years had passed since she had been born and Radraven seemed to be growing faster with each passing day. Draven was almost afraid to open her bedroom door one night and see a grown woman laying on a child's bed. Somehow it wouldn't surprised her, it had happened to her nearly forty thousand years ago.

Draven prefered the solitude and freedom that a motorcycle had to offer. The feel of the wind in her hair, the open road stretched out in front of her. There was nothing like it. Her long hair was tied back so that it didn't whip in her face. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses, keeping the passing street lights and headlights from reflecting off of her eyes like a cat. She had traded her modest clothing for the uniform of a streetbiker. All leather. The pants and jacket were made from the same black material, bullet proof, fire proof, etc (all modifications created by a dear friend of hers). Draven wore no helmet. She didn't need one. Crashing the bike wouldn't kill her, unless of corse something were to sever her head. Small headphones were plugged into her ears, belting out The Open Door cd by Evanescence, a band that was titled "Gothic Rock". She liked them because most of the songs fit into her life somehow. Radraven was spending time with Vangelo, her current babysitter. He had grown quite fond of the young girl. Even Draven could see a connection between the two and she had a feeling that once Radraven was fully matured, the Vega Elder would make his move.

Draven took the exit off the freeway and reduced her speed as she curved around the off ramp which banked sharply to the right. She wasn't quite ready to go home yet, even though Dawn was closing in. She needed to clear her head and think. This was the best way she knew how. It wasn't too much further until she reached the club, just another block or two.

Black Dahlia. The sign was illuminated in blacklight purple. Just at the boundries of the City Limits. If she stepped beyond this club, then she would be in Mortuus territory. The Black Dahlia was still Sanguine terf and they knew better than to show their faces here. Pulling in front of the club, which already had a long line of waiting patrons, Draven killed the bike's engine and swung her leg over the side of the two wheeled machine. She reached up and pushed the sunglasses off her eyes and onto her head. Many of the men waiting in the line glanced in her direction and did a double take. More than likely they considered her the most beautiful woman they had ever laid eyes on. It wasn't Vampire parlor tricks. It was just the way she looked. Smiling inwardly to herself, she walked directly to the front of the line and flashed the bouncer a smile.

"Evening, Draven." The man standing just behind the velvet rope was large. Not weight wise, but height. He easily towered over her five foot two by at least a foot or more. He was muscular, the body-builder type. His head was cleanly shaved. He always reminded Draven of Goldberg, the wrestler.

"Evening, Rick. How's business tonight?"

"Eh, business as usual. No one's gotten rowdy yet, but now that you're here, I'm sure that will change. One look at you, even looking like a biker chick and they'll start howlin' at the moon."

Draven laughed and this time, it did reach her eyes, her previous self-dobut and loathing fading.

"Might I mention that you look absolutely hot tonight, D?"

"You're lucky you're the only one I let call me D." She replied, slipping past him as he held open the rope for her. He closed it immediately behind her and laughed softly.

"Try not to get the crowd too rowdy."

"I never do. It's just how they react."

"Ain't that the truth."

Draven bid Rick a good evening and slipped inside the club. She removed the headphones from her ears and slid them into an inside pocket of her jacket which she had unzipped, revealing the white tank top beneath. Nine Inch Nails blasted from speakers hidden somewhere among the shadowed ceiling. The calm before the storm. The taste of violence hung heavy on the air. Something was brewing tonight. Perfect, she thought, just what I need to get out my aggression, trouble.

After a few hours, the club began to bore her. Draining the last of the contents in her glass she left a hefty tip on the counter and turned to leave. A hand upon her shoulder stopped her.

"Leaving so soon, babe?" The man was obviously drunk, and obviously Lycan. It assailed her nostrils like the musky scent of the forest. Werewolf, she thought, this can't be good.

Taking a deep breath, Draven reached up and gently removed his hand from her shoulder. "Sorry, not interested." She turned to leave again.

"I wasn't asking if you were interested." He slurred, grabbing onto her upper arm, hard enough to make her annoyed. Draven cast one look at Rick who was making his way through the crowd towards her. She shook her head from left to right once. He wasn't going to make it to her in time. In a move far to quick for the drunken Lycanthrope to follow, Draven had pivoted, directly toward him. The palm of her hand connected with the backside of his elbow. It snapped audibly, painfully. He howeled in agony and slipped to his knees.

"Never put your hands on a lady." The others began to move then. He had come here with his entire pack. Great. Not in a mood to fight them all, Draven dashed for the door. The crowd parted for her, giving her just that much of an edge. Quickly, she ran through the open doors and out into the waiting night. She jumped onto her bike and immediately it roared to life. She didn't bother looking to see if they were following her, she knew they would. Draven spun the bike around nearly in the middle of the road and shot out onto the street, manovering the two wheeled machine in and out of the cars. She dodged opening doors, shot through spaces between pedisterans, and jumped a few curbs.

Still, they followed. Turning the bike sharply to the right, Draven jumped the curb, riding up the deserted sidewalk at neckbreaking speeds. The black SUV followed, mowing down tables and chairs and even a few mail boxes. Bloody Lycans. They were more destructive than Vampires. A traffic jam was up ahead. If she could just get through that light, she might be able to loose them. Draven pulled back as far as she could on the accelerator. The bike shot forward, pulling ahead of the SUV. A black car screeched to a halt just at the sidewalk of the adjoining intersection. The doors opened, and a small army of men with guns filed out. Cursing softly, Draven leapt from the motorcycle. The bike crashed into the large window of one of the closed shops, flames errupting from the ruptured gastank of the bike. Landing easily on her feet, Draven ducked into the closest alley.

"This is utter bullshit." She mumbled softly to herself as to banked to the left, sneaking behind a few buildings. Canal Street. Perfect, there was bound to be some sort of establishment open for her to take refuge in. Just up ahead, a door was open, lights blazing. Pins and Needles Tattoo Parlor. What was a tattoo studio doing open at nearly four am? Fuck it, she thought. Draven ducked into the open doorway, shutting the door closed behind her. The tinted windows would provide just a bit of camoflauge.

"May I help you?" An overly unprofessional voice asked. Draven's attention was finally turned to the occupants of the shop. The man sitting there with a tattoo gun in hand was rather grotesque. Fat, balding, middle aged, and more than likely a pervert. She could sense his intentions even without ever reading his thoughts. Her eyes turned to the man laying on the chair. There was an intricate tattoo design covering most of his chest and curving over his ribs. Definately Human as well, but the mans appearance was slightly striking. His long white hair was pulled back into a thick braid. His eyes were different colors, iradescent. He squirmed slightly and there was blood on his chest from the needle.

"I told you not to move!" The balding man shouted, completely ignoring the fact that Draven was still standing there. "You've just ruined a reputable piece of artwork, you bloody idiot! You're lucky I don't lash the shit out of you again."

The Vampire's eyes widened. There were old scars adorning the mans upper arms and back, but most of them were covered by the ink now. Yup, definately asking for trouble tonight. Sighing softly, Draven reached into the waistband of her pants just at her lower back and slowly slid the Desert Eagle from its hiding place at her lower back. The things she did for Humans..

There was something calling her towards the basement, she had felt it the moment she had set foot in the tattoo parlor. Curious, she opened the door of the backroom that led downstairs. It was definately stronger now. Draven held the gun, barrel aimed towards the ceiling. Just as she was about to decend down, the front door of the tattoo studio burst open. Oh boy, she thought, this can't be good. Thinking quickly, she darted silently towards the bathroom, leaping over the uncouncious body of the tattoo artist. She made a display of flushing the toilet and running the water in the sink. Tucking the gun into the waist band of her leather pants, just at the small of her back, Draven shed the jacket, draping it onto the hook beside the door. Opening the door to the bathroom just as silently as she had closed it, she grabbed a handful of papertowel, making a show of drying her hands as she strode out into the lobby.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" There were four all together. The Lycans had obviously split up. Draven only hoped that the chemical smells of the tattoo parlor would hide the scent of her Vampiricy.

"Just looking." One of them grunted, giving her the once over.

"Interested in couples tattoos?" The two men standing next to one another took a two foot step apart. Inwardly, Draven chuckled. Gets'em everytime.

"No. We're looking for someone."

"Well, there's only the two of us here." This came from the man still laying casually upon the chair. Draven was surprised he was playing along, especially with his boss, Master, whatever the hell he was, laying uncouncious in the back room. Just as she stepped past the Human, she felt his hand reach up, unseen by her body and grip the handle of the gun sticking out of her pants. The other gun was hidden safely, just behind the chair in which the Human, Talon was stretched out upon. Not only did the Human's hand seem to hesitate at her ass, but she could feel the weight of his gaze lingering there briefly. Men and their damn sexual drives. I thought my Bloodline was bad.

"No one asked you, boy."

"Hey. If you're going to come in here and start with the attitude, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I do have work to do."

One of the Lycanthropes stepped close to her. Tensing, Draven didn't move as he sniffed the air beside her head. "Vampire!"

Shit. Not good at all. A shot rang out, biting into her shoulder. It stung like hell. Dropping to the floor, she noticed Talon standing to his feet, using her gun to render the Lycanthropes into piles of writing and groaning tissue. One shot, one kill each. He was good. For a Human.

"You're bleeding." Draven reached out to tend to his wound, but he practically slapped her hand away. "If you're worried about me attaching myself to your wound and sucking on it like a leech, I assure you I have already fed earlier. Your blood doesn't call to me."

"Gee, that makes me feel so much better." She noticed him sway on his feet. Talon glanced down at his chest still bleeding from the wound the tattoo gun had made. His skin turned pale, deathly white and he sank to his knees. Draven caught him immediately, and carried him with ease to the back room. A Human who passed out at the sight of his own blood. Smiling at the ironicness of it, she took the gun from his hands, tucking it back into her pants. The other gun she'd leave here for him incase more Lycan's came.

Draven fixed up his wound as best she could and left him laying on the cot in the back. There was that itch of a presence again, scratching at the back of her subcouncious. Drawing her gun, she silently manovered over to the basement door. It was still open from before. Carefully she took one step at a time. It was dark, but she could make out the shapes of the furniture with her night vision. A light flicked on suddenly, momentarily blinding her. "What in the bloody hell!?" A hand clamped itself over her mouth. Draven's eyes went wide, and her first instinct was to fight, but as her vision focused on the face, her body felt like liquid. The hand removed itself from her mouth.

"Dasani..."

Everything went black as the world around her faded.

A renewed hope...

2008-03-01T20:16:09Z

Chapter Six ~ Snow White Queen

Dasani's Estate

After the Fall

Draven awoke to a vast silence. She sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the sheet to her naked body. She breathed a sigh of releaf. The room she did not recognize, but the person sitting in the chair beside the bed she did.

"You stayed."

Dasani smiled. There was something warm, caring about his expression. It stilled her heart for a moment. "I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Elidamet andam." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper as she spoke those words of her Ancient tongue. A dilect of the Carpathian language.

"I speak Italian and English, Draven, sometimes bad English."

She smiled and looked down at her lap as she translated. "I offer my life for yours."

Dasani rose from the chair. The leather pants he wore barely making any sound as he walked across the carpet on bare feet. His pale chest was bare, showing the spiderweb pattern of veins beneath his skin. Draven was itching for her fingertips to trace those patterns of veins, wondering what his skin would feel like beneath her flesh. She saw him shudder and realized that their metaphysical connection was still open. Slightly embarassed, she adverted her eyes. Since when did she get embarassed? She never did around Rancor, what made Dasani so different?

A gentle touch made Draven turn her head back towards him. His eyes were serious, a vivid cyan color that seemed to send a tingle through her entire body, something she felt all the way to her toes. "You, my dear, have been through much in these past few months. Let someone take care of you instead of you taking care of them." His lips seemed suddenly so close to her own.

"I can't. It's in my nature to protect."

"You did not have to give yourself over to Markus, Draven."

"I did. He would have killed you either way. I had to use that time as a diverson so that you would get away. So that you and the rest of the Council could get away."

"They are all alive. In hiding. Jezza returned to Egypt, Vangelo to Spain, Lavra to Scottland."

"You stayed." She made it a statement rather than a question.

"I knew you were still alive, even without our connection open. Had you died, a part of myself would have followed."

"Soulmate." Her voice was nothing more than a whisper and she didn't know if he had heard it or not.

Dasani's fingertips were gentle, light as they slid into her hair, combing through the tangled strands of black. A small crimson tear trailed from the corner of his right eye. Draven found herself reaching up, her thumb brushing that trail of sanguine away from the perfection of his skin. "Are you sure that is what it is, Draven? Are you sure it's not just the connection between Sire and Childe?"

"Positive. Do you feel this way with any of your Children?"

"No."

"Then there's your answer. As much as I want to love you, Dasani, my heart still grieves."

"I know. That is why I'm reluctant." He snorted, a sort of chuckle. "Reluctant lovers."

Draven rested her forehead against his. "I am sorry."

"Don't, Draven. Don't ever be sorry." He framed her face with both of his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was the gentlest touch but it sent her heart skipping. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You need your time to grieve."

"They took my child, Dasani, my unborn child." The tears that Draven had kept at bay for so long finally slipped free. Her body trembled as she sobbed. Reguardless of his love for his Sire, Dasani held her, running his fingers through her hair as she cried for her lost child, her lost lovers and the loss of the very thing with which she had promised to protect with her life.

"They will pay, Draven, this I promise you. Every last Mortuus will pay with their life." He framed her face again with his gentle hands. Dasani tilted his head forward and tenderly pressed his lips against her own. It was as if he sealed his promise with that kiss. His promise to help her recreate the Sanguine Veil, a promise to destroy the Mortuus, and a promise to love her not matter what fell between them. "Soulmate." His voice was nothing more than a whisper against her lips.

"Forever."

They may have been Soulmates as they claimed, but they would be reluctant lovers until they finished sorting out the rise of their newest Empire. The Sanguine Veil was going to be risen from its ashes, even if it was the last thing they did.

Draven knew they would be there. Dasani had made the call. An urgent matter had come up and he needed the support for the rest of the Council. They were unaware that she was still alive. They all thought she had perished in the fire that ravaged Carpe Noctem. Jezza, Lavra, Darkasha, and Vangelo were escorted by guards of the Acontinum Bloodline and Revanants from the South Docks. It was only a matter of time before they arrived to the Estate that Dasani called home, the place where Draven was calling home at the moment until she established herself again.

The door opened to the bedroom and Dasani peaked his head in. Draven looked stunning. It was as if the past events of these few months had never taken their toll on her. Her hair was kept loose, trailing down her back like a silk waterfall of shadow. Her eyes, bright and full of the intelligence she held shimmered in the subdued candlelight. Her skin was flushed with the recent Feeding. Their admittance to that feelings for one another had given Draven the nourishment she needed to heal her wounds, emotion or otherwise. She wore simple clothes of black suede. Fastened around her slender waist was a new sword, the rapier that Karise had favored. Dasani had saved it for her from the blackened remains of Carpe Noctem. She was the picture perfect image of refinement. It sent his heart racing and his blood boiling.

"They have arrived." It was all he could do to not rush to her and take her in his arms, to keep her with him for the rest of the night by his side. Sighing inwardly, he opened the door for her. Draven's scent floated up to his senses as she passed by and Dasani's knees nearly weakened. He was torturing himself. But it was a pleasureable tourment. He knew she wasn't ready. Closing the door behind him, he walked by her side through the Great Hall.

Draven allowed Dasani to enter the Study first. She took a deep breath, steeled her will and walked in behind him. Silence followed for a moment before Jezza bust into tears.

"Oh my God, Draven." She nearly fell to her knees. If it wasn't for Lavra she surely would have fallen. Vangelo was the first to approach her. He reached out, letting his fingers clasp her chin. He turned her face to his, letting their gazes lock.

"All you have been through, and not one ounce of fear. You, Draven, are a miracle." At one time, she and Vangelo had been lovers, but his appetite for fear had separated them. She knew now just how ruthless and powerful that emotion could be. "You saved our lives by putting your own on the line. You saw Markus intent before it became apparent. We are forever greatful to you, my dear." There was genuine admiration in his voice. She knew he always respected her, but it seemed that his respect had gone up a few notches.

"I had told you all that I would give my lives to protect you. I meant it."

"I had not believed you would until recently. For that, I apologize for my lack of faith." This came from Darkasha who stood at the end of the couch, a delicate hand resting against its arm. Her mightnight blue eyes glittered with unshed tears. The fall of blond hair framed her heart shaped face. Her features were delicate, and she played every part of the Healer that the Spectral Bloodline was known for.

"It wasn't lack of Faith, Darkasha. If I were you, I would have thought it unbelievable as well."

"How did you escape?" This was from Jezza. Draven made her way over to the Dimensia Vampire, resting her hand against the womans face.

"I was able to endure the tourment until the right moment arose. They took my unborn child from me. A child that was apart of your Bloodline, Vangelo." Draven turned to him for a moment before turning back to Jezza. "With my grief and my rage, I managed to trick the guards. I dressed as one of the Mortuus, masking my presence. I felt a complusion to end it once and for all and so I sought out Markus. He is no more, but that does not meant that the Mortuus will back down. If anything they will be more eager to start a war." She let her hand fall away from Jezza's face and she turned to the rest of the Council. "But I will not let the Veil fall again. They have tried to break us, but their intentions only made us stronger. We have survived this long and we will continue to do so. We will rebuild our Empire."

"Do you think its wise?" Lavra asked softly, settling Jezza down upon the couch.

"I do, but we will not rebuild this Empire in a shadow of its former one. This time, it will be different. A turn of the century approaches, a time of change. Each Bloodline will be given its own safe house and the Council will meet in a disclosed location. We will start slowly. It will take time, but the end result will be worth the effort. Trust me."

Vangelo nodded once. "Where and when do we start?"

"We start here and we start now. Dasani has already sent up his own safe haven, now it is time for ours. If need be, we will build with our own hands. Our security needs to be heightened. Vangelo, you and Lavra are in charge of that aspect. Jezza and Darkasha, I'm leaving it to you both in order to find locations for each save haven. Dasani and I will scower the City in search for a base of operations for the Circle. We are to meet back here at Dawn."

"Is it safe to go into the City?" Darkasha seemed worried.

"Protect yourselves by any means necessary. Magick, steel, silver. Anything that you can use against an enemy. If you have any trouble call to us. Any an all that are within range will come to your aide without hesitation."

The night air was cool against her skin. The cobblestone streets of the City were slick with the rain that poured down from the sky. The horse drawn carriage that left the Acontinum Estate made no noise upon the streets. Draven sat beside Dasani, a look of grim determination set across her face. She had argued the point of taking a horse drawn carriage. She prefered to be on foot. But he had insisted, and been right, that she was still not at her full strength.

"Don't look so happy." Dasani teased, reaching out to run his fingers through his Sire's rain drenched hair.

"I would prefer to be on foot than stuffed inside one of these abominations."

He laughed. It was a sound that sped up her heart beat. "I know your preference, but it is more logical since you are not at full strength to be within the saftey of a carriage, no?"

She sighed and turned towards him, reaching up to let the palm of her hand rest against the side of his face. "My heart knows you are right, but by brain is telling me different." Draven lowered her hand and turned her attention back out towards the window. The massive stucture that the carriage was passing by seemed to be abandoned.

"Driver, stop." The carriage immediately haulted just in front of the massive building.

"Draven, what-"

She was already out of the carriage, nearly racing up the steps of the cathedral. "This is absolutely perfect. No one would expect Vampires to congragate in an abandoned Church and the Mortuus, being superstitious bastards, would never have the balls to set foot here."

Dasani could see the ironic yet logical thinking behind her idea. He stepped out of the carriage, almost immediately being assulted by rain. He paid it no heed and hurried up the steps to join Draven. The red brick of the Cathedral seemed grim with no lights, no sign of life visible. The stain glass window above the door had no depictions of any Religious scene, but the colors were remarkable. Vivid blues, reds, greens and even purples. She was right. This was perfect. Just the feel the building gave off called to them both. A sign perhaps, or inevitably an omen.

Draven tested the door to find it locked. Frowning slightly, she reached into her boot and removed a small switch blade. Flicking the blade open, she tested the lock. A slap of her palm against the hilt of the knife sprang the door open. "Let's have a look."

"You know, Draven, I think there's something against breaking and entering against a Church."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I never knew I had one."

"Oh come on, you're always the one rushing into a battle."

"Last time I checked, that was you."

"Hmm, yes, but you're my Childe. It's bound to have passed down."

Dasani couldn't help but laugh. Draven was certainly one of a kind. Caring, loyal, funny. And damn sexy as hell. Frowning slightly, at the latter, he pushed open the door for her. "Age before beauty."

"Funny."

He grinned and followed in behind her. It didn't take long for their perternatural vision to adjust to the inky blackness that engulfed them. The interior of the Catherdal was flawless, save for a few cobwevs strewn about, and about two inches of dust. "The benches will have to be removed, as well as the altar."

"I have a large dining table that we could use here back at the Estate."

"Perfect."

"I was able to save most of your things from the fire."

That was news to her. Draven turned to glance at him over her shoulder. "That is a releaf. I was figuring on having to aquire all new things."

Dasani smiled, and she was able to see it reach his eyes even in the darkness. She turned back around and let her eyes take a sweep over the inventory. "When we get back, I'll talk to my lawyers and see what can be done about the deed to this place." If there was anything he could do to repay Draven for saving his life, not once, but multiple times, this was just a start.

"Thank you, Dasani." Draven turned back towards him and linked her arm through his. Together they walked back out into the comforting embrace of the night. He pulled the door closed behind them and heard the lock snap into place.

"Something tells me that place is haunted."

"A few ghosts never hurt anyone. They may be greatful for the company."

"Yeah right, and I'm a Hunter of the Undead."

"Bastard! You betrayed me!" Laughted sparkled in her eyes as she played along.

"All the better to get closer to you my dear." Dasani moved swiftly and swept her up in his arms. He spun her around once before running to the waiting carriage and ducking inside.

"I was quite capable of walking."

"I know but I wanted to carry you. Call it impulse."

"I can only imagine and wonder what other impulsions you have locked inside that head of yours."

"Sometime, Draven, you will know." He muttered softly as the carriage pulled away and made its way deeper into the City.

Sacrafice...Prt 2

2008-03-01T20:15:27Z

Chapter Five ~ Vendetta

Ruins of Carpe Noctem

The Fall

Pain, agony. She didn't feel it anymore. She was numb, or as numb as a Vampire could get. Closing her eyes, she willed it away. The endless days and nights. Draven hoped that Absolute Death would take her soon. The Mortuus Vampires had taken their time. Cutting her flesh, removing the growing fetus from her womb, the child that had been Rancor's. What they did with that child, she did not know, but the grief that struck her was unmistakable, unshakable. She kept her eyes closed during the rapings, praying for whatever Gods there were to make it stop. This was the night she was going to snap. Draven had shut her mind off completely, severing Dasani from sensing her pain.

It was something she didn't want to share with the rest of the Council. They didn't need to know that their Eldest member was about to break.

Once in a while they released the chains from her wrists and ankles and let her feed. This was a time when she prefered Blood. Mortal or Immortal. She didn't care. Draven timed it perfectly. Her eyes remained closed when they came in. She didn't move when their fingers unlatched the shackles at her wrists and ankles. The moment they turned their backs, thinking that she was too weak to move, Draven attacked. The first one she grabbed had its heart ripped from its chest. Male or female, she didn't know, nor did she care. The Vampire didn't even had enough time to scream. Nor did the second as its throat was ripped out by the canines that had exploded in Draven's mouth. The taste of Blood, especially Immortal sang sweetly against her tastebuds. Already she could feel the shudder of Power flowing through her veins. The sheer pleasure of it was nearly overwhelming. This sensation she openly shared with Dasani. Letting him know that she was still alive.

Her victory was short lived. She needed to get free of this burnt out shell of Carpe Noctem. The heart Draven still held in her hand was brought to her lips. The Blood here was the richest. She would definately have a euphoric high. Grabbing the nearest garment she could find, she wrapped herself in the black silk robes of the Mortuus. Draven shut down her metaphysical shields, blocking her very presence from those Mortuus that she would encounter. Her veins felt like they were on fire after being starved for so long. It was utterly amazing at how powerful she felt right now. There were whispers reaching her ears. Whispers of Markus. Eyes narrowing beneath the shadows of the hood, Draven made her decision.

The hallways were silent. An occasional passerby here and there, but otherwise no one paid her any attention. The tips of her bloodied fingers created a trail of crimson along the stone walls leading into the very room that she sought to find. His presence was like a beacon of light to her darkness. Her nails dug into the wood, talons bursting from the very ends of her fingers. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain that she had been through these past few months. He was the only one in the room. Silently, Draven glided in, making sure that the door shut firmly behind her with a simple telepathic command.

Markus whipped towards the door, emerald green eyes wide in alarm. He was a strinking man. Quite attractive really, or he would have been if he wasn't such an assmongrel. The long strands of black hair seemed to blend in with the shadws edging the room. The very shadows that Draven stood in, masking who she really was. His skin was pale, no lighter than her own. Some say Markus was the very Vampire who had created Reiko. The candle light in the room flickered brighter, the flames shooting straight up towards the ceiling. A flash of bright neon green shimmered beneath the shadowed hood of the cloaked figure waiting in the darkness.

"Draven?" Markus' voice held amusement. "I'm surprised you managed to escape."

"Don't lie, Markus. You're not surprised in the least. You knew I would one day."

"Did we break you so soon? Are you eager to join us?"

Draven shifted in the darkness, letting the cloak fall to the floor, fluttering in a whisper of silk. She stepped forward then, her lithe and pale body seemingly flushed. The Blood that she had consumed and spilled over her, soaked into her very flesh, giving it a more Human quality. Draven slowly closed the distance between herself and Markus, reaching out to let her fingertips trace along the line of his jaw. A shadow of a beard framed the contour. "Eager to join only you, Markus."

His green eyes flashed with something primitive, something akin to desire. He stood from his chair swiftly, his fingers digging slightly into Draven's hips. He pulled her lower body firmly against his, letting her feel the evidence of his desire poking at her stomach. She bit back a wrench of revulsion in her stomach. "Kiss me, Markus." Her voice was a breathy whisper, her lips a mere hairbreath away from his own.

A small growl passed his lips, or maybe it was hers. She couldn't tell. Either way, he took it as permission. His lips crushed against her own. Draven fought the instinct to pull away. Instead she opened her mouth to his, letting her tongue delve into his waiting mouth. Her fingers crept beneath the material of his shirt, a loose linen. Her skin came in contact with hard muscle. The ripple of his abs would have been an enticement if she were feeding, but now, they made Draven want to cringe. Shoving all that loathing aside, even if briefly, she let herself into that kiss. Everything that made her a Requiem Vampire was poured from her body and into his. Markus groaned, his fingers pressing into her hips hard enough to bruise had she been Human. Then, without warning, her had shot through his chest. Her deadly fingers gripped onto that pulsating organ that lay just beneath his rib cage. The bones splintered like wood. Draven ripped Markus' still beating heart from his chest. For a moment, he stood there stunned.

"I told you that I was going to kill you if I survived. I didn't lie, Markus."

He tried to grab for her, but Draven was quick, Powerful on fresh Vampire blood running through her body. It would repair months of damage in a matter of an hour. Lifting that pulsing heart to her lips, she added Markus blood to the mix. Tossing the now empty heart aside, she turned on her heel, returning to the shadows to retrieve her robes.

"One day, I will see you in the afterlife. Until then, give Reiko my reguards. And say hello to the tourment that Karise and Rancor will put you through. I was merciful giving you this kind of a death, Markus. They will not be as merciful."

Draven pulled the hood of the robes up, concealing her visage in darkness once more. "Good Hunting." The door to the room closed as she slipped out into the hall. A sense of releaf asailed her. Her sense were so high. The blood of three Vampires. She would heal quicker than most, more than likely a half an hour instead of the full sixty minutes.

Draven had escaped the Compound, which had been nothing more than the burnt ruins of Carpe Noctem. The Mortuus had built underground tunnels. They had obviously been working underground for years, weaving the pathways through the dirt, setting up rooms. All because of Reiko. That bastard. She hoped he was frying in hell for this. Even though she was elevated on blood, the releaf of having escaped with her life sent her to her kness upon the wet soil of what she had once called her home. She opened the metaphysical connection that she and Dasani shared, hoping that he was not shutting her out. To her surprise, he wasn't.

Dasani...

Draven?!

The ruins of Carpe Noctem. Hurry...

Darkness decended upon her almost instantly. The months of tourment, emotional, physical and mental had taken their toll. It was only when she had aquired freedom did she break.

Sacrafice...

2008-03-01T20:13:56Z

Chapter Four ~ Taste the Silence

Carpe Noctem Estate ~ City of Sanguine

The Fall

A century had passed since the Council lost the Vitae of the Spectral Bloodline and Draven had lost Rancor. Karise's Childe Darkasha had taken his place. She was now the Eldest of that Line. The loss had been a huge burden for them all, especially for Draven. It had taken years to break her out of her depression, her grief. Even still when the anniversary of that night approached, there was hardly anyone who could comfort her, except for Dasani. He had been a good friend to her through the whole situation.

Her inspection of the past century was broken as the door to her study burst open. Dasani stood in the doorway a look of utter seriousness and concern falling across his Roman features. "We're under attack." Although his voice was calm, Draven could sense the underlying tone of fear and even excitement. "The Mortuus have seized the Watchtowers and are making their way towards the center compound. We must move quickly."

Draven cursed. "No doubt Reiko had a hand in this." Before she had a chance to aquire any form of weapon, Dasani grabbed her hand.

A trap had been laying in wait, but Draven moved too fast for the Mortuus to keep track of. The first one she reached seemed to tremble just before her entire hand shot through his chest and out the back. The ribs splintered as if they were nothing more than toothpicks. Draven held the heart in her hand, felt it shuddering with the last spasms of its irregular beating. Another Mortuus rushed at her. No weapon in hand. A snarl of rage had her lips curling back from her enlongated canines. Draven pivoted on her heel, ripping her hand from the chest of the Vampire she had just killed. Dropping the heart to the ground, she grabbed at the rushing figure before her. Her fingers, leathal and deadly curled around the Mortuus' windpipe. With a fierce jerk of her arm, the entire voicebox, windpipe, trachea, everything, was severed. Blood rushed over her arms, the front of her body, but Draven paid it no mind.

She had turned, expecting the rest of the Mortuus Vampires to rush towards her, but the remaining six had already been taken out. A wound was healing on Dasani's wrist. Her eyes caught his, and an understanding seemed to pass between Sire and Childe. Draven nodded once, and so did he in response. Rage, anger and grief just may be able to save them all. A sinister smile seemed to pass across Draven's lips.

"Make sure the others are safe."

"I'm not leaving without you, Draven."

"Do as I say!" Perhaps it was the look in her eyes, the untamed rage or the sorrow. Whatever the case, Dasani turned reluctantly away from her.

"You get yourself killed, I'll remove your soul from the afterlife and replace it in another body."

Draven arched a single brow, but otherwise ignored Dasani's last comment. There was a presence in the shadows just at the edge of the woods. One she knew all too well.

"It didn't have to come to this, Draven."

"Oh, but it did. You've killed four people I cared about. You've killed my parents, you've killed Karise and Rancor. For this, you will pay dearly, Reiko."

He stepped out of the shadows then, a smug smile set across his lips. "I love you, damnit! I was not going to see you in the arms of another man, You are mine."

Draven tilted her head to the right. "As you wish." She didn't have to move, that much she knew. With all the strength she could muster, she hummed the sword the distance between herself and Reiko. It sliced, blade over hilt through the air. There was a look of sheer astonishment that passed over his face as the blade sank deeply into his chest, the exact spot where it had been planted in Rancor's and in Karise's. "An eye for an eye, you cocksucker. Judge, Jury, and Justice. The way of the Veil." She walked slowly towards him and grasped the hilt of the sword. With a swift jerk, Draven yanked it from Reiko's chest. She pivoted on her heel, bringing the blade around with her. There was no scream, no other words from him as his head was severed from the rest of his body.

"Very well played, my dear. I couldn't have done it better." A husky voice spoke from behind her.

Draven turned casually, the blade held at her side dripping with blood. "And you are?"

"Markus." The hooded figure stated simply.

"You're the leader of the Mortuus."

"Ah, you have heard of me. Good. No introductions are necessary, seeing as how I already know who you are dear Draven."

"I figured as much."

"Intelligent as well as beautiful."

"Can it, dickwad. I don't want to hear another word."

"Such a mouth." He rose a single hand, waved to something unseen.

Draven turned her attention away from Markus, only for a moment, but it was all the Vampire needed. He was on her in an instant. One of his hands gripped at her wrist, talon like nails digging into her flesh. His grip was strong, but it was something she could break. The blade of the sword she held bit into her own throat, but didn't quite break the flesh. "What do you want, Markus?"

"Ah, now that's much better. What I want is you. Your life and I will spare the rest of the Council."

She opened the intimate bond between herself and Dasani. That telepahic link that connected them. Get Vangelo, Jezza, and Lavra out of here. When it is safe come back for Rancor's body.

Draven, don't! He had seen in her mind what she planned to do. It's a trap! He's going to kill you then come after us anyway.

I have to at least try. It was my promise.

No!!!

Draven closed the link. "Very well, Markus." Her fingers released their hold upon the sword, letting it clatter to the ground. "Do remember one thing. I survive and break free from you, I will kill you."

The Mortuus took one look into her eyes and believed, if only for a moment, that she meant every word she said.

A love lost...

2008-03-01T20:12:27Z

Chapter Three ~ Lost and Bleeding

Carpe Noctem ~ City of Sanguine

Before the Fall

Draven awoke to a presence standing over her. The look on Rancor's face was hard to place. She sat upright, holding the sheet to her. "What is it?"

"Reiko's body was found mutilated earlier this morning."

A sense of shock asailed her, but beneath it was a huge sense of releaf. "Is it wrong to not shed a tear?"

"No my dear. Especially not after he has treated you." Rancor reached out, letting the palm of his hand rest against the side of her face. There was such releaf in her eyes, so easily readable. He knew that a part of her was saddened by her Mentor's death, but there was a part of her that was greatful. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her. "They say that a pack of wolves attacked him."

"Was the heart in place?"

"The body was too mauled to tell."

"Then how do we know it is him?"

"The brand of the Requiem Bloodline."

"It could be any Vampire of my Bloodline, Karise."

He frowned slightly. Draven had a point. One that they should bring up to the Council. Rancor placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, smiling against her ivory skin. "Come, the Council meets in the Dining Hall to induct Dasani. You get dressed, I'll meet you there."

Draven watched Rancor walk from her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. She sat there for a moment longer, reviewing the information she had just been given. To be honest with herself, there was not a shred of doubt that he wasn't hiding somewhere. She knew the coward that Reiko was. He seemed to be the type to fake his own Death. Pushing herself up from the bed, she dressed quickly. This was perhaps a day that would alter history. Draven just didn't realize how true that was.

The Transformation had been a success. Dasani had survived. However, Draven's assumption had been right. Her blood did not change him into one of the Requiem Bloodline. It had mutated the cancerous cells in his body, embracing the toxin that was eating away at his system and infused it with his own Blood. The damage to his body had been repaired, but now, Dasani's Blood was a weapon itself, a toxic poison that could eat away at any living tissue. It was Draven that had named the new Bloodline, making the Circle complete. The Acontinum Bloodline was the newest addition to the Sanguine Veil and Dasani was the youngest Vitae to ever take a seat upon the Council.

During the Transformation, his skin had turn to an ashen gray, the spiderweb patterns of veins tinting to an even darker gray. His eyes retained a slight orange hue, but could change with his mood. An easy indication on weather or not Draven needed to be weary. No one knew how the Transformation became such a success, they gave Dasani the credit for having a strong will to live and he seemed forever greatful to her for saving his life. He was more than willing to learn everything and anything he could.

"You are given the rights to Sire, Dasani, when you think you are ready to do so. But I don't reccomend doing so without another Vitae present. Sometimes when you are first Transformed, you are unable to stop yourself just before you take too much."

They were wise words, advice given to him by Rancor. The Council had been more than accepting of his relationship with Draven. They had assumed all along that they were lovers. It was a relief to have it out in the open, so to speak. "As Second in Command to the Seat of Vega, I welcome you to the famile, Dasani." Rancor held his hand out. For a moment, Dasani seemed hesitant, then firmly, he clasped the Vampire's hand, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you, Rancor. I am forever greatful to Draven. I will not disappoint her, nor anyone else of this Council."

"You are one of us now, Dasani." Draven commented, leaning casually against the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. The shirt she wore, similiar to the black one she had worn the night previous, was a dark shade of green, emerald green, and it made her eyes all the more alluring. The black leather of the pants she wore seemed to be a customary uniform among the Vampires. Suede, leather and lace. "You are Council just as much as the rest of us. We are the Circle of Six. We act as Judge, Jury and Justice for the Vampire Nation. Karise and Rancor will be showing you how to act as the Executioner. Jezza will show you the rules of our Juistice system. It's pretty simple really. Mostly an eye for an eye, that sort of thing. The Judging, Vangelo will show you the tricks of decifering lies and truths."

"What of you? What will you be showing me?" He turned those odd eyes towards her, and she felt a sense of pride, the kind of pride that every Sire feel towards their Childe.

"Compassion. I will show you compassion. Without it, us Vampires would never learn to realize that we can make mistakes as well. Forgiveness. Sometimes our mistakes need to be forgiven. Love. We are creatures that can love a great deal. We feel emotion much more deeply than Humans. We can not feel pain, not to the extent as Mortals nor Lycan's. It is nothing more than an annoyance to us, and because of this, our other emotions are heightened. Grief. With our existance, there are dangers. We must be prepared for loss, tragedy, chaos. With each experience we learn."

Draven pushed herself off of the wooden frame of the doorway, the silver blade of her sword clinking against the belt of silver chain she wore. "It is a life long lesson, but you are a quick learner, Dasani. Just as I am. You should be able to pick it up in no time." She clasped a hand against his shoulder and felt the bond between Sire and Childe, but somehow, to her, it felt much stronger than any other bond she had felt. Odd, she thought, something I'll have to look into. Removing her hand, she fought the urge to wipe her palm against her pants. Draven gave Dasani a reassuring smile before stepping around him to sit herself upon the large dining table. It's rectangular structure filling most of the Dining Hall.

"There are a group of Rogue Vampires who have dubbed themselves the Mortuus Clan. Their counterpart, the Corpus are aiding them in planning a battle of great proportions. We do not know when this war will take place, nor how many they are going to have in their army. The best we can do is train and prepare those that we have, create more and train them as well. It is a blessing when you came to us, Dasani. Now with the addition of your Line, we can make our army bigger, stronger than ever before." Rancor's voice was hopeful. Draven was always skeptical. She saw things as a double edged sword. Reaction and action. Karma and Effect. "It's not that I don't trust Draven to train you, but I would feel better if I did it myself."

Draven's attention snapped from her thoughts and she turned narrowed eyes to Karise. "I may not be able to best you in fencing, Rancor, but hand to hand combat there is no competition. I can hold my own when it comes to swordplay, and the last time we sparred, it was a draw."

"I do not mean to hurt you, Draven, you know that I don't."

"Funny, you would think that I would know, wouldn't you?" She pushed herself from the table and walked towards both men, Dasani looking quite awkward. "I was born long before you were even a mere thought, Rancor. I managed to survive this far so you would think that I have picked up some skill along the way."

Without another word, she left, leaving them both to discuss among themselves. She had better things to do. Draven nearly broke the door that led outside to the Courtyard in her haste to get fresh air. Her chest felt consticted, tight. She knew that it was pointless to argue with Rancor, but she was hurt. He apparently didn't think her skills with a blade were good enough. Taking a deep breath of air, Draven made her way through the Courtyard and towards the stables. Dawn was approaching, yes, but she didn't care. Not at the moment. She needed to get away, even if it was for a few hours. She picked up one of the cloaks they always kept just inside the doors to the stables and swung it around her, fastening the gold clip at her throat. Pulling up the hood to hide her face and skin from the rays of the sun that would be up in an hours time, Draven grabbed a saddle and reigns. The last stall on the left was where she kept Cian. The black stallion she favored.

"Good evening, Cian."

The horse snorted in response.

"Ready for a ride through the country side, dear friend?"

He pawed at the ground with his hoof.

"Good."

Draven tossed the saddle over Cian's back, belting it firmly yet not too tightly around his midsection. She ran the palm of her hand over his nose and up to that small white star shape just between his eyes. She smiled warmly at him and eased the bridle and bit into place. Grabbing a hold of the reigns, Draven led Cian from the stall and out into the open night air. Stepping into the sterrup, she swung her other leg over the saddle and sat within the cushion of leather. She felt at ease, relaxed.

Draven didn't have to do much urging. As soon as she was comftorable in the saddle, the reigns held firmly in hand, the horse took off at a quick pace, galloping away from the stables and the Estate. This was freedom. The road in front of her, the night tugging at her hair.

It had begun to rain when Draven returned back to the stables. The morning sky was overcast by dark gray clouds. As she hung her cloak on the rack beside the others, she felt a familiar presence behind her, one she had not thought she would ever encounter again.

"Reiko." He had been her Mentor. The one person she turned to the night her parents had died. He had been her Fathers best friend. Draven had always had a suspicion about him, but could never prove it.

"Draven." His accent, utterly sexy sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't from fear, but from loathing. He assumed it as something else.

She didn't want to look at him, but she knew she had to. Draven didn't trust having him at her back. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath then turned. Her eyes opened slowly. There Reiko stood, his long black hair slicked back, wet with rain. His eyes a rare shade of green, a cross between white and sage. He wore all black as usual and blended in with the subtle shadow that he hid in, avoiding what daylight filtered through the heavy clouds.

"You're not dead." She said simply, stating the obvious.

"No. At one point I thought I had been. I was on the verge of Absolute Death, but somehow I managed to heal my wounds and recover."

Pity, she thought, I was hoping the worms were eating your vile flesh. Draven kept that thought locked away, her mental walls sealed tight and firm against any intrusion Reiko wished to use against her. The seat of the Vitae had fallen to her after his supposed Death, and she was going to be damned if she was going to give it up to him. Draven didn't trust him, not as far as she could throw him.

Their reunion was broken. "Madame, Draven!"

"What is it, Trestana?" She addressed the young Human, keeping her eyes on Reiko in case he made any wrong move.

"It is Master Rancor. He is in trouble."

Her attention was immediately diverted. "What?!" Immediately, Draven ran from the stables, clearing the gap to the Estate in record time, even for a Vampire. The crowd parted for her the moment she entered the Training Room. The wound was visible, even through the torn crimson shirt he wore. That shirt hadn't been crimson when she left. Draven knelt beside him, laying a hand against his forehead. His eyes were rolled back into his head, his body convulsing violently.

"He has been poisoned." This quiet statement came from Dasani who stood just at the end of the table Rancor was stretched on.

"Our kind can not be poisoned." Lavra said matter of factly.

"It is a new development." Dasani retorted, his voice held a small hint of anger at Lavra for belittling his intelligence.

"If any of you are going to argue, get the fuck out!" This came from Draven. She wasn't even aware she had spoken. No one else said a word. "You should be able to heal this Rancor!"

He had just enough life, enough energy left to speak to her, and only her. "I never meant to hurt..."

"I know, Rancor, I know." Her voice was soft, tears threatening her eyes. Draven leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "Who did this to you?"

"Someone we all thought w-was dead.."

"That bastard! He will pay for this, I swear to you he will."

He smiled, affection in his eyes. "I love y-you, D."

"I love you." Her lower lip trembled, tears of crimson staining her cheeks.

"P-promise me s-something?"

"Anything."

"Y-you will keep the V-veil in p-place no matter w-what?"

"With my very life, Rancor."

His eyes turned white as they rolled back into his head. His body jerked, spasming off the table. His body stilled, turning into ashes almost immediately upon his Absolute Death. Rancor hadn't been the only one to fall to the blade of Reiko. Karise had also fallen. His body was burried beside his Vega counterpart in the tombs behind Carpe Noctem. It was a devistating time for the entire Sanguine Veil.

A love denied...

2008-03-01T20:10:53Z

Chapter Two ~ Twilight

Carpe Noctem Estate ~ City of Sanguine

Before the Fall

Draven reached up to rub at her temples. Vangelo stood behind her, his hands resting comfortingly on her shoulders. "I apologize for bursting out like that." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper when she finally spoke. The wine in her goblet was gone now, reguardless of the odd taste it held. Reiko abandoned the Requiem Bloodline, the Veil and the rest of the Council, this Circle of Six. Was she to really take his place? There was no other option.

"You did what you had to do, wanted to do for a long time now. We were wondering when you were going to realize you had enough of his- how shall I say this- shit." Vangelo leaned over her and refilled her empty cup. She knew why the wine tasted funny. It wasn't the Bloodwayne she was accustomed to. It was just wine.

"I had had enough of his shit for some time. I didn't want to disrespect the Circle by expressing it."

"In a way, we are all glad that he has stepped down." This came from Jezza who sat across from her now. The Dimensia Vampire reached out and let her hand clasp Draven's. "His votes and methods went against everything that we stood for, but alas, we could not just vedo him out of the Council. You have a Childe now, Draven, and that Childe has a Seat as Vitae for his own Bloodline. You have accomplished far greater things in your existance than Reiko could have ever dreamed of."

She smiled. Jezza was right. She had surpassed Reiko in abilities, she had Sired Dasani, who was now apart of the Circle of Six. Hell, she had even managed to gain the seat of Vitae without any sort of violent mannerism. "I make a promise to you all here and now. I will not let petty grievences nor childish anticts decide my vote on any matter of this Council. I will earn the respect that comes with being Vitae."

"You have already had our respect, Draven." Vangelo commented. When he realized she wasn't touching her wine, he picked up her goblet and brought it to his lips. "Besides, you're the Elder of us all now. I think its about time, especially with your intellect, that we all take guidance from you."

Draven arched a single brow and turned in her chair to look up at Vangelo. The emralds that had been placed in her tightly spiraled hair glittered in the torch light of the gothic looking sconces along the walls. "I have not been Vitae for five minutes and already you're promoting me to Head Vitae?"

"I vote yes. The Head Vitae was me before Reiko stepped down. I am passing it down to you as long as the others agree." Vangelo smiled down at her, his violet eyes searching hers.

"As do I." Jezza gave Draven's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I third that." Karise commented leaning back in his chair to prop his boot clad feet on the edge of the table.

"Feet off the table, Karise. Have some manners." Draven scolded, her brow frowning slightly.

Karise nearly threw his head back and laughed. "First order of business already?"

"I agree with the vote." Lavra interrupted, slapping Karise's booted feet off the table.

"Thank you, Lavra." A small smile curved the corners of Draven's lips.

"Don't mention it, love."

The door to the Dining Hall opened. A young Revanant by the name of Trestana entered, bowing slightly from the waist.

"I am truly sorry to interrupt, but there is someone here to see Madame Draven."

"Excuse me." She stood from her chair and took the goblet of wine from Vangelo just as he brought it to his lips. Draven took a healthy swig and handed it back to him.

"I've always admired a woman who can drink."

"Can it, Karise." Vangelo warned. "The last thing the poor woman needs is you trying to seduce her."

The door closed behind her before she could hear Karise's response.

Draven sat across from this Human considering his words with deep thought. Her fingers were steepled in front of her as she went over the conversation they just had. Her neon green eyes roamed over his delicate Human frality. He was sick, dying from a rare form of cancer, and he had come to her for aid. He wasn't ready to die just yet, and as he put it, his time wasn't up. This Human's name was Dasani. He had grown up in a monistary in Rome, placed there by his mortal parents who could no longer do anything to help him. His black hair fell straight to his shoulders. He was pale, considerably so for a Human. More than likely his illness rearing its ugly head. His lips were thin, but not overly so. His nose, sharp. Definately Roman features and definately handsome. Shifting in her chair, Draven lowered her hands, letting the fingers of her right one fiddle absently with a quill pen.

"How is it that you came to obtain the knowledge that I could help you, Mr. Termen?" Her voice was soft, but it flowed like liquid honey, something you could wrap around you. It held a faint accent, something far older that the Mayans.

"The Revanants that hide in the monistary." Dasani replied simply, his fingers absently fiddling with the torn garment he wore.

"Very well. You have your wish, Mr. Termen. I imagine that you would like to spend one last night as a Human. This time tomorrow we shall meet with the members of the Council." Almost as if on que, Trestana a Human Servant to one of the Requiem Bloodline entered Draven's study. "Please show him to a comftorable room, Trestana. Make sure he has everything he needs and wants. Tomorrow night prepare the Blood Chamber."

"Very well, Madame." Trestana's French accent was almost barely audible. She helped Dasani to his feet and led him out through the open door of the study, closing it softly behind her.

Draven sighed, rubbing absent mindedly at her temples. It was more so out of a gesture of habit that releaving tension. She never got headaches. If she did, they were very very short lived. Pushing herself up from the desk, she left her study. The hallways were deserted. She had to talk with Rancor, and she knew just where to find him. He was always occupying his free time with sparring. Smiling to herself, she pushed open the wooden door to the Training Room. As she speculated, there he was sparring against one of his Brethren.

"I do not mean to interrupt your charming little quarrel, Rancor, but may I have a minute of your time?" Draven asked, leaning her hip against the frame of the door. He turned towards her, rapier pointing down to the floor. His black breeches showing how tone his legs were. The black shirt he wore was slashed vertically downwards, revealing the pale perfection of his chest.

"You may always have my time, dear Draven." Rancor turned towards Ricardo and nodded once. The younger Vampire bowed from the waist and left the room through some hidden passage behind the bookshelf. He turned to her then and leaned against the hilt of his sword. The tip of the thin blade supported his weight with expert balance and ease. The shirt gaped open further, revealing more of his muscled chest. Draven's eyes drifted downwards, roaming over the perfect pale skin. "See anything you like, love?"

Draven arched a single brow, turning her eyes up from his chest to catch his dark gaze. "More than you know."

"Perhaps you could show me." His voice purred with audible seduction.

"A tempting offer, Rancor, but I did not come here for that."

"Pity."

Draven laughed softly. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You are well worth the wait."

Changing the subject before she took him up on that offer, and forgot why she had come here in the first place, Draven turned from him for a moment. "A Human came to me just a little while ago. The Revanants knew of the disease that ailed him, a rare uncureable cancer. He doesn't have much longer to live, a few months at the most. His aura is tinged with black. He was sent here from Rome, seeking a way to be cured. I do not think that the Blood of the Spectral Line has the power to cure this."

"You're thinking of Transforming him."

Draven nodded once. "Yes. But I fear that my blood won't destroy the disease. I fear that it will mutate it. Turning something beautiful out of something that deadly could be dangerous."

"I have to agree with you on that one. Have you expressed this with the Human?"

"I have. That is why I came to you. I need your advice, Rancor." There was slight desperation in her voice. It tugged at his heart. He stood up, sliding the sword in its sheath at his side and stepped up behind Draven. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and urged her to look at him. She turned, and standing this close to him sped up the beat of her heart. The blood rushed quickly in her veins.

"If this Human is willing to take the risks you are laying before him, then fullfill his wish. See what will happen once he is Transformed. I would offer to Transform him myself, but he came to you." He reached up, letting the palm of his hand rest against the side of Draven's face. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. Tongues, teeth, mouths. It was passion fierce enough to consume them both. Draven's back was suddenly pressed against something solid. Probably one of the walls. Her hands slipped through the torn opening of his shirt, coming in contact with his soft skin. It glided like silk beneath her palms as she slid them up, pushing the material from his shoulders. Rancor nuzzled his nose against Dravens, tilting her head upward to let his lips trail a path of fire along the hollow of her throat. Her breathing became rougher, her nails dragging a path of faint lines down his back. He hissed softly, scoring the flesh of her now bared shoulder with his teeth.

Muffled conversation broke the moment. Rancor lowered his forehead to rest it against hers and sighed heavily. They pulled apart reluctantly and adjusted their clothing back to its rightful place. "I will come to you at sunrise." He whispered softly against her ear before pulling away.

"A pleasure as always, Rancor." Draven winked and turned on her heel.

"Not yet, my dear." He returned as she was about to step through the doorway. Her laughter floated back to him, wrapping around his skin and making him shiver.

Once outside the training room, Draven ran the palms of her hands over her face and sighed deeply. Sunrise seemed too far away.

Once inside her own Chambers, there was a feeling of relief that assailed her. She was, without a doubt exhausted. Unfastening the dress, she let it slide to the floor. Walking across the Persian carpet and towards the bathroom at the back of her room, she pulled the pin from her hair that had kept it in place. The long pin straight black strands tumbled down her back to rest just at the curve of her backside. Draven tossed the pin onto the small table beside the large claw foot tub. She drew herself a bath, the water as hot as she could stand it. Into the steaming water she added a few drops of perfumed oil, a musky sensual scent that she favored. A mixture of patchouli and sandlewood. She settled herself into the waters embrace and dunked beneath the surface. Coming up for air, she felt her tensions ease away almost immediately.

"I do wish you would have waited for me."

Draven opened her eyes and turned them towards the doorway. There Rancor stood, his hip leaning casually against the wooden frame. Somewhere in his path from the door to the bathroom he had removed his shirt, or perhaps he had entered her bedroom that way. Either case a smile touched her lips.

"There is still room for one more."

Rancor's smile widened. "Now that is an offer I'm definately not going to pass up." His piercing gaze remained locked on hers as he removed the remainder of his clothing, allowing it to pile on the floor with her own. He was, without a doubt, perfect. Every ripple of muscle, every plane of smooth flawless skin was enough to send her blood boiling. He stepped over the edge of the tub and sank into the water. Was it just her, or did the water get hotter?

Rancor grabbed gently onto Draven's hand and pulled her towards him. "I told you that I would come for you at Dawn."

"It's not quite Dawn yet." She chuckled softly.

"I know. I couldn't keep myself from seeing you."

"You see me every night."

"Yes, but its not quite the same. I can't hold you in front of them. I can't touch you while their eyes watch." His hand drifted over the wet skin of her back. "I can't kiss you while they're in the same room." His voice became a whisper as he tilted his head towards Draven's. "I can't very well taste you while they listen."

That sent a shiver down her spine, and it wasn't from being cold. Rancor laughed softly. "I love the way your body reacts to mine. Do you know what you do to me, dear Draven?"

"Hmm, not quite, but I think that part of it might be poking my leg right about now."

He tilted his head back and laughed. "Oh, that is only a fraction of what you do to me." His eyes caught hers and he reached up to frame her face, his expression turning serious. "Every time you come within a few steps of me, Draven, I loose all rational thought. Everytime you touch me, my blood burns. Everytime you say my name or look my way, my heart stops. You are it for me Draven, the reason why I live, the reason why I breathe. Did you know that before I met you, I was planning my demise? I was tired of this life. When I met you, you gave me hope. You gave me a reason to go on. I love-"

Draven didn't let him finish. The pressure of her lips against his cut off any further conversation. Just as it had been in the Training Room, the kiss became all consuming. Teeth, tongues, mouths. The fire of passion flamed through them both, dancing with intensity until they thought they would surely go up in flames. She pulled back from the kiss slightly, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. "You were saying?"

Rancor smiled, letting his fingers tangle in the strand of her damp hair. "I love you, Draven." Her eyes closed at his words. She savored them.

"I have waited long to hear those words come out of your mouth, Rancor. I have loved you from the moment I saw you." Her eyes opened. There were tears of crimson trailing from his eyes, just as she knew they were from hers. Without another word, the kiss resumed even more passionate than before. With this kiss, they poured into it their emotions, their love for one another.

"I think the bed would be the best place for this, don't you?" Rancor whispered softly. He didn't wait for her response, he just lifted her from that perfumed water and carried her through the bathroom and into the bedroom. Gently, he layed her down on the bed, joining her but a mere moment after. His body was a delicious weight against her own.

Draven reached up, letting her fingers tangle in his short black hair which still dripped beads of water onto her breasts. Without much urging, Rancor lowered his head enough to place a gentle yet passionate kiss against her lips. Lightly he nuzzled her head up, trailing a path of white hot lightning along the hollow of her throat. His tongue swirled over her skin, his teeth nipping playfully. With a slightly sinister smile curling the corners of his lips, Rancor dipped his head lower. His tongue caressed the swell of a breast, tasting the beads of water that had collected there. His piercing gaze peered up at her, watching her expression as that wicked tongue of his flicked across one of Draven's nipples. She inhaled sharply, the intake of breath offering her breast towards his attentions. She was rewarded when the warm carvern of his mouth enclosed around the sensitive peak. The breath she let out was a slight groan of pleasure. That groan turned into a gasp as he blew a gentle breath of cool air across her taunt skin.

Rancor's mouth should have been declared a sin. Any thought was pushed from Draven's mind as his tongue swirled lazily along the flat plane of her stomach, his teeth nipping at the faint toned ripples of her abdomen. His hands trailed down her legs to her ankles. Gently Rancor urged them apart, placing one of them over his shoulder. His tongue dipped into her navel, making Draven squirm against the sheets. His breath was the devil. It teased the core of her body, sending a shudder through her. Karise let his other hand slide from her hip, slowly trailing along her thigh to lift it gently. This leg he draped over his back so that her heel rested just above his backside.

The first stroke of his tongue had Draven's body arching off the bed. The sensation was almost too much. Lazily he flicked the small nub with the tip of his tongue, stroking over and over again. Slowly, prolonging the sensations. He wanted to savor the taste of her, the feel of her body. Rancor slid his tongue in a counterclock wise circular motion around that hardening nub and it brought a deep throated moan from between her lips. He pulled that sensitive nub into his mouth and sucked gently. Draven's fingers sought for something to hold onto. The closest thing she found were the sheets. While Rancor suckled gently, his tongue continued its circular motions, drawing out the inevitable. Just when she felt that pressure building, borderlinging release, Rancor pulled back, crawling up the length of her body.

"You taste so good." He whispered softly against her lips. "But I want you to come with me inside you, Draven. I want to feel your body shuddering around me." Without warning, his finger slid into her slick wet entrance. Her muscles contracted, shuddering around his finger. "Mmm, yes, just like that." His finger sank deeper into her body, curling towards that sweet spot he knew he would find there. "Exactly like that." He withdrew his finger and brought it to his mouth, savoring the taste of her body. Rancor kissed her then, and the taste of her own body on his mouth was almost enough to send her over the edge. Almost.

Carefully, almost as if he were afraid she would break, Rancor eased the tip of his length into the entrance to Draven's body. Then slowly, inch by sweet inch he eased the rest of his body into her embrace. He remained motionless, emotion struggling across his face. Almost as if to reassure him how she felt, Draven reached up to tangle her fingers into his hair, bringing his mouth down to her own. The kiss was tender, passionate and loving. Everything she felt for the man she loved. Rancor began to move then, slowly at first. It was overwhelming. The slide of his body, each curve and detail hitting the right spot. Her hips arched, meeting thrust for thrust. Their movements were insync with one anothers. Their bodies fit perfectly as if they had been made for eachother.

Draven's body convulsed around his and that sweet pressure was building again. Rancor reached down between their bodies, his finger stroking at that sensitive hard nub of flesh. The one that would undoubtedly send her over the edge. She cried out, her nails digging into the flesh on his back. Rancor hissed softly, scoring her shoulder with his teeth. His finger stroked her again and again, matching the pace of his thrusts. Draven's body trembled, shuddering around his as the pressure finally spilled over into sweet release. His name passed her lips as hers did his. She felt him shiver, his length throbbing, pulsing deep inside her own as his release rocked them both into another world, another dance of Twilight.

Deception

2008-03-01T20:09:10Z

Chapter One ~ Bitter Blood

Carpe Noctem Estate ~ City of Sanguine

Before the Fall

The music was loud and upbeat. Bagpipes, horns, all sorts of instruments were being played in rhythum to the cheery melody. Draven Akasha Asmodeos had been born into Vampirism, well over 24,624 years ago in a small village in what is now known as the continent of South America. Many people think that civilization hadn't existed that many years ago. Draven was living proof that it did. Her father, Ceriro had been a Vampire, her mother, Trista had been Human. There wasn't really an answer as to why Draven wasn't born a half-breed, a hybrid of Vampire and Human. It is said that the DNA carried in the Vampire gene cancels out the Human DNA, that it's more dominant. Both of her parents had been murdered. She always had a sneaking suspicion that her Mentor and father's former best friend had a hand in their Death's, but she was never able to prove it. Reiko was the Eldest of the Requiem Bloodline. He held the position of Vitae and Draven was his Second in Command, heir to the Seat. It was something she wanted and feared at the same time.

Sighing softly, she let her fingertips ring around the silver goblet in front of her. Her wine remained untouched. The long strands of her pitch black hair were piled high ontop of her head. The normally pin straight strands forced into spiral curls against their will. The neon green of her eyes peered out from beneath thick black lashes and caught the pale green gaze of her Mentor across from her. He smiled and raised his own silver goblet in her direction. Draven acknowledged him with her own drink, but set it back down without touching its contents. Her eyes never left Reiko's face. He was attractive, but even that was such a frivilous word to use. He was, without a doubt one of the most beautiful men she had ever laid eyes on. His long black hair fell in waves to his broad shoulders. Those almond shaped pale green eyes should have been marked a sin on their own. On more than one occasion, Draven had caught herself falling into them. That had been centuries ago. Now, she was able to meet his gaze unflinchingly. The high cheekbones hinted at something Irish, or perhaps Romanian. It was hard to tell. The fullness of his lips begged to be kissed, tasted. She knew that beneath his clothes he was slender muscle. Taunt smooth skin and musky scent. Such were the ways of the Requiem Bloodline, finding beauty in their surroundings.

Frowning inwardly to herself, Draven shifted her gaze to the rest of the table. Beside Reiko, to Draven's left,was Karise, the Vitae to the Seat of the Spectral Bloodline. His piercing crulean blue eyes were enough to make any woman, and sometimes men for that matter, drown with their intensity. He considered himself a ladies man, but his affections currently, were all for Draven. His long black hair was just as pin straight as her own, but where as hers surpassed her backside, Karise's stopped just below his shoulders. His lips were fuller than Reiko's, but not in a feminine way. Everything about him was masculine, deadly grace bound up into a package that was, for lack of a better word, perfect. Throughout the entire dinner, his eyes had been solely on her, occasionally shifting if he was asked a direct question. At the moment, her eyes caught his and a single brow arched questioningly. Karise crossed his eyes in a gesture of comedy that had Draven giggling. A glare from Reiko ceased her amusement.

Beside Karise was Jezza. The only female Vitae within the Circle of Six. It was rumored that the Dimensia Vampire was an ancestor of Cleopatra herself. Her long black hair was kept in the pleated fashion of the Egyptians. Her almond shaped dark eyes could appear black one minute, and gold the next. Iradecent in a way. Her skin was an icy olive and quite alluring to look at.

Just opposite of her was the Vitae of the Aluka Bloodline, Lavra. His sexual preference for a parner wasn't picky. Men, women, he didn't care. The flame of his curled blood red hair stood out among the rest. His true green eyes were remarkable, even deeper that Karise's if that was at all possible. The well toned ridges of muscles in Lavra's arms and shoulders hinted at hard work, as well as a guess at how good he would be in other aspects. That was the Requiem in her thinking again. His skin tone was just a shade or two lighter than her own.

Last, but surely not least was Vangelo. The Vitae of the Vega Bloodline. He was the opposite of Lavra. His rugged good looks and sheer masculinity had Draven's mind screaming "Fantasy". His dark brown hair was pulled back in a single braid, revealing the hard chiseled planes of his face. High cheek bones, full sensious mouth and crystal clear violet eyes were enough to send her blood boiling. The way he held himself, sitting quietly in that high backed chair of leather had even the darkness whispering dangerous.

Draven pushed herself from her chair, the nearly floor length gown of black silk barely rustled with her movements. The garment clung to her lithe and slender frame, flaring out to a nearly full skirt at her hips. Her feet were bare, much to Reiko's disappointment. If he was going to make her wear a dress, then she was going bare foot damnit. Draven hadn't seen Reiko move, nor heard him until he grasped her upper arm.

"Release your hold on me, Reiko." Her voice was pushed out through clenched teeth.

"You are not to leave this table. I am your Master and you will do as I tell you."

A ripple of Power flowed through her with a violent urge of her anger. It whipped at him and the astonishment at how strong she had become shown in his eyes. "I said release me." This she said lound enough for the rest of the table to hear. Vangelo was beside her almost immediately.

"Let her go, Reiko."

"Stay out of this, Vega!"

Bloody hell. This wasn't going to be good. Draven's Power increased. Where it met his, there was no comparison on who was stronger. Reiko was thrown nearly like a rag doll across the room. "You will never put your hands on me ever again with a violent intent, Reiko. You have hit me one too many times already. I am stronger now, stronger than you ever thought I could be." He landed, ontop of the empty end of the dining table. Embarrassed and humiliate no doubt.

"You will always be mine, Draven."

"I was never yours. Not from the time I was born, and certainly not now. You gave me the gift of my abilities by learning how to control them, and for that I am thankful, but I am not thankful nor greatful with the way you have treated me. I am not a possession."

"I love you."

"You don't love anyone but yourself. I'm an obssession, something you desire to have. But that desire doesn't go past the point of my degree of Power."

Reiko stood from the table where he had fallen and stepped closer to her. Vangelo stepped between them in case he tried to harm her again. "If you think you can do better as Vitae, Draven, then by all means go ahead. I step down."

Shock was thick in the silence of the room. Even Draven was surprised. He said not another word and turned on the heel of his boot. Reiko had entered the Dining Hall as Vitae, but he left as nothing more than a common Vampire. Inside, he was furious. They would pay. Every single one of them. The would pay for his embarassment, his humiliation. A sinister smile spread across his lips. He knew just how to do it.

The past...

2008-03-01T20:06:57Z

Draven's fingers lightly caressed the still burning embers of her fathers body. Poison. She could smell, taste it like an acrid wine at the back of her throat. Tears burned in her eyes, but she would be damned if she shed them now. Her jaw clenched tightly as she took note of Reiko's aloof mannerisms as he gave strict instructions towards his men, the flunkies that followed him around like dogs. The ashes that were now Draven's father, Ceriro; collapsed in a gray heap upon the floor. Gracefully, she stood and held her head regally high, much like she was sure her mother would have if she wasn't lying just as lifeless beside her husband. Trista's body was what gave off the strong scent of poison. Did anyone think that she could not smell it, even with the fires burning brightly just outside the door?

"Come, Draven. We must leave." Reiko reached out and lightly clasped her upper arm. He had been her father's best friend. She should be able to trust him, but deep down, she didn't. Draven found him repulsive. Oh, he was highly attractive, probably one of the most beautiful men that she had ever layed eyes on; if a man could be considered beautiful. His long black hair fell in waves to his broad, masculine shoulders, but it was his eyes that usually captured her with their pale green radiance. Vampires were quite in fact beautiful creatures with their white porcelin skin, their firece exoticly colored eyes. He still bared a scar that bisected his left eyebrow; a mark he had been bestowed before his Transformation, but it did nothing to diminish his beauty. Draven on the other hand, had been born into Vampirism. She knew nothing of Humanity, nor the first thing about being Human. Her father had been a Vampire, yes, and her mother Human, so why didn't she become a half-breed? A mixture of Human and Vampire? It was rumored that she was the Prophet of An'ket, a decendent of the original Vampire's Bloodline, but it was also rumored that the Vampire gene was vastly more dominant than that of the Human gene her mother carried. Whereas Reiko's beauty was an extension of his Transformation, Draven's beauty was virtually flawless. Her long, waist length black hair was pin straight and fell like a silken waterfall down her back. Her almond shaped piercing neon green eyes seemed to flash with seductive allure. Even if she hadn't been part of the Requiem Bloodline, she surely would have obtained their abilities of Seduction.

Carefully, Draven removed her arm from Reiko's grasp. "I will leave when my mother's body is burried and my fathers ashes are scattered." Stubborn to the end. A trait she had inherited from her mother.

"Your parents are dead, Draven and I do not doubt that the killer is still out there. We must get you to saftey."

"As I said, Reiko. I will leave when they are taken care of."

"You are stubborn like your mother, Childe."

"I am not your Childe."

"You are in my care, now Draven. Your father had asked me to be your Mentor if anything were to happen to him. I just never thought it would be this soon." Reiko reached up and ran his fingers with their sharply pointed nails through his wind tangled hair.

Draven turned her gaze towards her mothers gray corpse. She knelt down beside her and lovingly stroked a stray lock of black hair from her forehead. "Leave me." Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but she knew that Reiko would be able to hear her clearly.

"Not by yourself."

"Then leave one of your men outside the door, but leave me!" Her eyes burned a fierce yellow with her rage as she turned her face towards Reiko. He could see something feral, raged filled in her face, and for a moment, it frightened him.

"Fine," Reiko sighed. "But, if you are not back before Dawn, I am coming to get you."

She said not a word and turned away from him. Reguardless of a Vampire's ability to move silently, Reiko and his men gave Draven the curtesy of making at least a bit of noise as they left the Great Room of the castle. The stone was cold beneath her. She was aware of the temperature, but she couldn't feel it. No Vampire could.

"I will find the one responsible and take vengeance." She said softly, vowing to her parents the only thing that she could give them now. "I will live long enough to stake my claim in the world. Your dreams, your expectations of me were so high I can do no other thing than to make sure that they happen, no matter how long it takes me." Draven leaned forward and placed her lips very lightly against her mother's forehead. With her lips pressed against the cold skin, she caught the faint scent of something else. It smelled vaguely like wolves. There was one other Vampire besides herself that was able to call to the wolves, and that was Reiko.

Draven stood carefully, almost as if she were afraid that her knees would give out on her at any given moment. She managed to make her way to the far wall where the sconces burned with dancing flames. Her fingers clasped onto one of the wrought iron torches and she carried it back towards her mother's body.

"I will not stop until I know who is behind this. I will see you both in the afterlife." Draven touched the dancing flames to the edge of the dress her mother had been wearing and watched as they hungrily laped at the material before fully consuming the body. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she turned away and walked through the door that Reiko and his men had exited. One of the guards stood just outside. The glance he cast her was weary, almost as if he was afraid Draven would either snap, or weep.

"I want to know who was responsible for this, Jonner. I want to kill the bastard so slowly that he will beg for me to finish him off. I will make him watch as I eat his *****ing heart."

Jonner, with his youthful face and large cyan colored eyes looked well and truly frightened. Draven could sense it radiating off of him in waves.

"You know who did this, don't you?"

He shook his head furiously. She stepped closer, her green eyes narrowing. "You're lying. Save yourself the trouble of me skinning you alive. Tell me what I want to *****ing know."

"He'll kill me."

"I'll kill you if you don't talk to me, Jonner." She reached out with that perternatural speed that all Vampires possess and grabbed onto the armor he wore. "Talk to me, damnit!"

"Reiko gave the order. It was Stefan and his team that carried it out. Oh God, please don't kill me!" Jonner sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

Draven let him go and felt her body become limp. She knew it. Logically, she knew that she couldn't kill him. She wasn't strong enough yet. Running the palms of her hands over her face, she screamed wordlessly, rage filled and could hear the wolves howl, answering her call off somewhere in the distance.

Vampires of the City of Sanguine

2008-03-01T19:59:55Z

(Vampire) Seething Through the Veins of Thine Enemy

Seething through the veins of thine enemy,

I burn,

Causing them to gasp,

Writhing at my touch.

Seething through the veins of thine enemy,

I bleed,

Letting them drip every ounce of their life force into my body,

Filling me to the core.

Won't this Hunger ever end?

Few creatures of the night have captured our imagination like Vampires. What is it that explains our enduring fascination with vampires? What is it about the vampire myth that explains our interest? Is it the overtones of sexual lust, power, and control, or is it a fascination with the Immortality? What dark and hidden parts of our "psychie" are aroused & captivated by the legends of the "Undead"?

The Six Major Bloodlines in the City of Sanguine:

~Acontinum: The Acontinum Bloodline have a unique appearance. Their skin retains a grayish tint, the veins beneath an even darker gray. Their ability is the most unique out of the six. If their blood is introduced into an open wound of an enemy, it acts like a poison, an acidic poison. It breaks down the nervous sytem, eating away at the host from the inside out.

~Aluka: The Aluka Bloodline was gifted with the ability to shape-shift. They are able to take on the form of an animal that suits mostly to their personality.

~Dimensia: The Dimensia Bloodline has the ability to teleport themselves, or what others would call rifting through time. One stipulation of this, is that the Dimensia must see where they are going in order to teleport. Otherwise they may get stuck in that metaphysical fabric.

~Requiem: The Requiem Bloodline are considered the Masters of Seduction as well as unique Magick crafters. They have the ability to feed off of sexual desire, lust. They can turn the most darkest desires into a physical manifestation, a reality. The Vampires of this Bloodline are remarkable beautiful, even more so than some of the other Vampires.

~Spectral: The Spectral Bloodline have the ablity to heal almost anyone. Vampires, Lycanthropes, and even Humans. Their Blood enables them to do this, but so does their abilites in Healing Magick.

~Vega: The last Bloodline, and the most feared, had been the Vega Bloodline. Like the Requiem, they could feed without having to use Blood. They fed off of fear, using the most deepest and darkest fears against their enemy.

There, however, are two Rogue Clans whom wish to overthrow everything that the Circle of Six have workes hard for:

~Corpus: The Corpus Clan are flesh crafters, able to manipulate the flesh of an enemy into something more sinister. {Think Hellraiser}

~Mortuus: The Mortuus are considered the "Necromancers" of the Vampire Nation. They can not control the dead, but they are able to reanimate a corpse for a short time in order to use it against their enemy.

Although each Bloodline is unique and granted with their own special "gifts" as it were, all Vampires share common abilities:

~Regenerative Properties: The Elder the Vampire, the faster they are able to heal even the most fatal wounds. If they were shot, the bullet would exspell itself from the wound and the skin would reseal without any trace of a scar.

~Telepathy: This is the strongest form of communication among the Vampires. The bond between Sire and Childe is stronger, but with a Blood Bond, any Vampire can communicate with other Vampires, Lycans, or Revanants.

~Animality: A gift among the strongest telepaths. They are able to communicate with a specific animal, speak to them telepathicly to give an order of protection, or of a kill. Those who have this gift are able to give their chosen animal a form of Vampiricy.

~Blood Vision: All Vampires have this ability. This enables their vision to shift. The Vampire will see everything in a blood red hue, but anything living caught in the visions path will be seen as a pulsating white figure.

~Mesmerization: This ability resides in the eyes mostly. Most Vampires retain an alluring eye color when Transformed, and if they are not careful, they can mesmerize anyone they lock gazes with.

~Immunity: Again, only a gift of the Elders; the ability to walk in the light of day. However, their eyes must be covered at all times because it could make them blind if they are in prolonged sunlight.