Sometimes you just wanna write, y'know? (TB story part 2)
Typed this out in the office, updating from home. Since it was mainly written to avoid The Great Demon of Boredom and to look 'productive' while everyone else types their reports while secretly watching YouTube, forms follows function. Don't expect great literature. Don't expect literature. Don't expect this to follow the usual Trinity Blood story at all.
It's my version, as with the NANA story the only things that remain the same are the names. But I'm writing it for fun and to keep in shape so yeah.
Comments always appreciated.
“Vampire!” Cain whirled around to see a figure running out the door, the cry loud and shrill on his lips. He cursed, hearing it echoed by trader and craftsman alike as the sleepy bar suddenly became energised with fear and hatred. So much for his drink… not like he’d needed it anyway - for him, food was more a recreational habit, much like the occasional cigarette or drug, than anything else.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two young toughs inching towards him, hands open, knees slightly bent to spring. Behind them, others gathered, though whether to gawk or to fight he didn’t know. The smells of drink and disease, already so thick in the air, mixed with the human’s fear into a potent sensory cocktail - Cain could feel his jaw beginning to ache with the temptation to feed of the banquet before him.
The youngsters were almost on him now, and the hand in his pocket curled around his gun as his eyes began to turn from silver to red.
******
It was a case of misrepresentation, Cain reasoned. If people bothered to learn, they would know that it simply wasn’t possible for a vampire to drink the blood of as many as forty people in a night. The reason why so many people died during vampire sightings - involving, generally, discoveries of depraved individuals with other people’s necks in their mouths - was that invariably sighting led to shouting, which led to attempts at killing, which led to… a bloodbath.
The tavern was littered with carcasses now, bodies lying across the tables, the smell of blood so thick in the air he was practically salivating. But it cooled rapidly as life left the patrons and he fancied their souls travelled to some saner, better plane. Dead blood was of no use to him, and the only person left alive in here was probably that nun…
“No!” the shout roused him, and he turned to see her struggling with the bartender, who had one of her thin wrists clasped in a vice-like grip. The other, Cain was alarmed to see, clutched a burning taper of candles. “The Lord would not forgive…”
“You brought him here, little nun!” the man’s eyes rolled madly about in their sockets as the flames danced, illuminating the rage in his eyes. “You brought a vampire here! So you will burn! You and him both!”
And he flung the candles in Cain’s face, hot wax splattering onto his dead skin.
But the fire itself fell not on a dark trenchcoat, but on a white habit. The nun screamed as flames ate her clothes and licked at her skin and clutched at her robes as though to beat them out with her bare hands. Cain raised his gun, aiming it at the innkeeper’s heart. It wouldn’t do much for his bar or his life, but at least it’d give him a bit of satisfaction.
“No!” Again, the girl gripped his arm strongly. He moved to shake her off, when a terrible burn spread through his rotted flesh - her rosary, which she had dropped into his palm so long before. He growled and dropped his hand, cursing.
Pretty piece of work indeed…
*******
When he next opened his eyes, the night sky was blessedly cool above him, and there were no innkeepers to be seen in the vicinity. Only the nun, her white habit stained with blood, her eyes shut and hands clasped in prayer.
“If you’re praying for me…” his voice came out like a croak. “I’ll snap your neck, little lady.”
“I am praying for the souls of those who have lost their lives this night, and I pray in thanks that mine was spared. If you have a soul, then I pray for you, my Lord.” Illuminated by starlight, she should’ve looked holy and transcendent or something, but all he saw was a girl with her eyes closed and blood in her hair and face.
Worn belt-leather creaking, he pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. “Just ‘Cain’, please.” Resting one gloved hand on the stone below him, he quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“I was waiting for you to rise. I wanted to ask you where you are going.”
“What for?”
“To bring those tidings to the Church.”
He heard himself give a bark of laughter. She was so small and solemn, sitting there pretending the cold night wasn’t making her shiver. “I go where the wind takes me, little lady. Tell your church that.”
“Where the wind takes you…” the words sounded strange from her mouth, and she seemed to realise it as well. “I have been taught that all goes according to God’s plan, but I do not know where the wind goes.”
“Come,” he said in reply, but the accompanying shrug made it seem like he did not much care for her reply or dissent. “We’ll go over the Desert - there’s wind enough to tear that habit from your face.”
She looked up at him, hands still outstretched as though to grasp a cross she no longer held, making no move to wipe the blood from her eyes and face. Cain smirked, and tossed the pendant to her, his hand charred and blackened. Away from his skin, the metal no longer burned like the sun’s rays, but to his surprise the nun only smiled serenely, like a maiden at her first baptism.
“The desert?” she echoed sweetly as a child. “I would travel with you, my Lord Vampire.”
Cain lifted an eyebrow. “With me? What for?” He waved his glove vaguely in the direction of the smoking village and its fleeing villagers, who didn’t pause to look back at this strange nun and her vampire companion. So much for bravery, Cain thought as he watched the so-called ‘warrior priests’ flee with the rest of them, shrieking decidedly not God-friendly curses. And so much for self-sacrifice, protecting others, and serving your fellow men…
So much for religion. Bunch of nutcases.
From the corner of his eye he could see her standing up, brushing out her habit and skirt like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her eyes remained closed, and blood had gathered under the fine auburn lashes of her face, spilling down her cheeks like she was crying. He wondered why she appeared to feel no pain when there was so much blood, so much fresh, virginial, womanly blood - the type vampires like best.
She looked in his direction and cocked her head ever so slightly, studying him with a puzzled frown. He wondered why he was still standing here, his gun cocked and at the ready. As though I’m standing guard, he realised.
“I am not wounded, my Lord,” she began.
“I was born blind. The Sisters told me, when I opened my eyes and saw only darkness where they spoke of light and colour, that my sight had been given as a gift to the Lord. And so in darkness I must look for him, and never waver or fear this path with no beauty - this is the sign of the Lord’s blessing upon me, that in his service I may walk the harder road.”
“I did not believe them. I believed I was like all nuns. But they spoke to me of mothers who wailed when I only heard sounds, they journeyed to cities of power and majesty - but all is the same blackness to me.”
She stepped closer to him, and he met her eyes which did not see.
“But you spoke to me in darkness and told me you journey where the wind takes you. Never before has woman or man told me of a road which I can follow. I cannot see the dirt paths in the forest, or the paved tiles of cities, or the black iron roads of the walled castles. But I can feel the wind on my face and it will guide me.”
“My name is Esther Blanchett, Sister of the First Convent. I would be your servant, my Lord of Vampires.”
******
My personal feeling? Not great shakes man - definitely skimpy stuff, my description's no longer in good shape and when I'm not looking carefully I tend to favour bombastic dialogue over actually explaining/describing anything. Cain's characterisation also gone down the drain - he's in serious danger of falling into Heero Yuy I-didn't-kill-her-because-???? territory. But should make a palatable ten minutes or so of reading.
If you're here, you've probably read it, so thank you for reading! *bows*
It's my version, as with the NANA story the only things that remain the same are the names. But I'm writing it for fun and to keep in shape so yeah.
Comments always appreciated.
“Vampire!” Cain whirled around to see a figure running out the door, the cry loud and shrill on his lips. He cursed, hearing it echoed by trader and craftsman alike as the sleepy bar suddenly became energised with fear and hatred. So much for his drink… not like he’d needed it anyway - for him, food was more a recreational habit, much like the occasional cigarette or drug, than anything else.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two young toughs inching towards him, hands open, knees slightly bent to spring. Behind them, others gathered, though whether to gawk or to fight he didn’t know. The smells of drink and disease, already so thick in the air, mixed with the human’s fear into a potent sensory cocktail - Cain could feel his jaw beginning to ache with the temptation to feed of the banquet before him.
The youngsters were almost on him now, and the hand in his pocket curled around his gun as his eyes began to turn from silver to red.
******
It was a case of misrepresentation, Cain reasoned. If people bothered to learn, they would know that it simply wasn’t possible for a vampire to drink the blood of as many as forty people in a night. The reason why so many people died during vampire sightings - involving, generally, discoveries of depraved individuals with other people’s necks in their mouths - was that invariably sighting led to shouting, which led to attempts at killing, which led to… a bloodbath.
The tavern was littered with carcasses now, bodies lying across the tables, the smell of blood so thick in the air he was practically salivating. But it cooled rapidly as life left the patrons and he fancied their souls travelled to some saner, better plane. Dead blood was of no use to him, and the only person left alive in here was probably that nun…
“No!” the shout roused him, and he turned to see her struggling with the bartender, who had one of her thin wrists clasped in a vice-like grip. The other, Cain was alarmed to see, clutched a burning taper of candles. “The Lord would not forgive…”
“You brought him here, little nun!” the man’s eyes rolled madly about in their sockets as the flames danced, illuminating the rage in his eyes. “You brought a vampire here! So you will burn! You and him both!”
And he flung the candles in Cain’s face, hot wax splattering onto his dead skin.
But the fire itself fell not on a dark trenchcoat, but on a white habit. The nun screamed as flames ate her clothes and licked at her skin and clutched at her robes as though to beat them out with her bare hands. Cain raised his gun, aiming it at the innkeeper’s heart. It wouldn’t do much for his bar or his life, but at least it’d give him a bit of satisfaction.
“No!” Again, the girl gripped his arm strongly. He moved to shake her off, when a terrible burn spread through his rotted flesh - her rosary, which she had dropped into his palm so long before. He growled and dropped his hand, cursing.
Pretty piece of work indeed…
*******
When he next opened his eyes, the night sky was blessedly cool above him, and there were no innkeepers to be seen in the vicinity. Only the nun, her white habit stained with blood, her eyes shut and hands clasped in prayer.
“If you’re praying for me…” his voice came out like a croak. “I’ll snap your neck, little lady.”
“I am praying for the souls of those who have lost their lives this night, and I pray in thanks that mine was spared. If you have a soul, then I pray for you, my Lord.” Illuminated by starlight, she should’ve looked holy and transcendent or something, but all he saw was a girl with her eyes closed and blood in her hair and face.
Worn belt-leather creaking, he pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. “Just ‘Cain’, please.” Resting one gloved hand on the stone below him, he quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“I was waiting for you to rise. I wanted to ask you where you are going.”
“What for?”
“To bring those tidings to the Church.”
He heard himself give a bark of laughter. She was so small and solemn, sitting there pretending the cold night wasn’t making her shiver. “I go where the wind takes me, little lady. Tell your church that.”
“Where the wind takes you…” the words sounded strange from her mouth, and she seemed to realise it as well. “I have been taught that all goes according to God’s plan, but I do not know where the wind goes.”
“Come,” he said in reply, but the accompanying shrug made it seem like he did not much care for her reply or dissent. “We’ll go over the Desert - there’s wind enough to tear that habit from your face.”
She looked up at him, hands still outstretched as though to grasp a cross she no longer held, making no move to wipe the blood from her eyes and face. Cain smirked, and tossed the pendant to her, his hand charred and blackened. Away from his skin, the metal no longer burned like the sun’s rays, but to his surprise the nun only smiled serenely, like a maiden at her first baptism.
“The desert?” she echoed sweetly as a child. “I would travel with you, my Lord Vampire.”
Cain lifted an eyebrow. “With me? What for?” He waved his glove vaguely in the direction of the smoking village and its fleeing villagers, who didn’t pause to look back at this strange nun and her vampire companion. So much for bravery, Cain thought as he watched the so-called ‘warrior priests’ flee with the rest of them, shrieking decidedly not God-friendly curses. And so much for self-sacrifice, protecting others, and serving your fellow men…
So much for religion. Bunch of nutcases.
From the corner of his eye he could see her standing up, brushing out her habit and skirt like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her eyes remained closed, and blood had gathered under the fine auburn lashes of her face, spilling down her cheeks like she was crying. He wondered why she appeared to feel no pain when there was so much blood, so much fresh, virginial, womanly blood - the type vampires like best.
She looked in his direction and cocked her head ever so slightly, studying him with a puzzled frown. He wondered why he was still standing here, his gun cocked and at the ready. As though I’m standing guard, he realised.
“I am not wounded, my Lord,” she began.
“I was born blind. The Sisters told me, when I opened my eyes and saw only darkness where they spoke of light and colour, that my sight had been given as a gift to the Lord. And so in darkness I must look for him, and never waver or fear this path with no beauty - this is the sign of the Lord’s blessing upon me, that in his service I may walk the harder road.”
“I did not believe them. I believed I was like all nuns. But they spoke to me of mothers who wailed when I only heard sounds, they journeyed to cities of power and majesty - but all is the same blackness to me.”
She stepped closer to him, and he met her eyes which did not see.
“But you spoke to me in darkness and told me you journey where the wind takes you. Never before has woman or man told me of a road which I can follow. I cannot see the dirt paths in the forest, or the paved tiles of cities, or the black iron roads of the walled castles. But I can feel the wind on my face and it will guide me.”
“My name is Esther Blanchett, Sister of the First Convent. I would be your servant, my Lord of Vampires.”
******
My personal feeling? Not great shakes man - definitely skimpy stuff, my description's no longer in good shape and when I'm not looking carefully I tend to favour bombastic dialogue over actually explaining/describing anything. Cain's characterisation also gone down the drain - he's in serious danger of falling into Heero Yuy I-didn't-kill-her-because-???? territory. But should make a palatable ten minutes or so of reading.
If you're here, you've probably read it, so thank you for reading! *bows*