[fic]: Carmilla's Party (Darla/Dru) R, Part 1
Title: Carmillia’s Party
Author: Ersatz Fiction
Parings: Darla/Dru
Word count:2166
Rating: R for language, violence and descriptions of femslash vampire style.
Disclaimer: not him.
Spoilers: Tiny ones for 'Angel','Becoming part 2', 'To Shanshu in LA', 'Lullaby', 'Beneath me', 'Chosen', and 'NFA'
Summery: In which Darla attends a party she wishes she hadn’t, Drusilla has a rough night and Carmilla learns to let sleeping sprites lie.
AN: Written for zoesmith in the whedonland fic giving challenge using the prompt magic. Carmilla, the original lesbian vampire, predates Dracula by at least twenty years. All inappropriate word usage, spelling mistakes, tense confusion and poorly constructed MacGuffin devices are mine.
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Darla wondered, as she sipped blood and champagne, why she didn't leave. She hated Carmilla, with her overly extravagant parties and her over inflated since of importance. Just because someone wrote a penny dreadful or two about her doesn’t make her a vampire queen. She wandered out of the parlor and over to the ornate sweeping staircase, tapping on the banister with a nail.
Still. She has not met with many of her own kind in this city. It would be most impolite to refuse an invitation to such an exclusive party. Especially, as she accept another flute of Daybreak from a women wearing only gauze and pearls, one with such lovely appetizers.
“Darla, you look so modern! I love what you've done with your hair.” Carmilla came down the stairs in a cloud of silk and perfume, kissing both her cheeks.
“Thank you, Carmilla, it's all the rage in the states you know.” She accepted the kisses with ones of her own.
Carmilla caressed the fringe of her hair, just grazing her cheek. “Yes, yes, I know. All the girls in Vogue are wearing their hair this short.”
“I do like to keep up with the times, makes blending in much easier.”
“Naturally. I daresay the ladies love a women who's in fashion. Though your Childe seems to be doing quite well without doing either.” She felt something small and hot like a small crucifix at those words, before she looked up to the next floor where Carmilla’s gaze was.
Drusilla. Dressed as she was last time she saw her, in a long ivory and onyx velvet dress, talking to some little redhead fledge who looked like she wanted to devour her. Darla’s smooth expression dropped to blatant surprise. Two decades--at least two decades had passed since she’d seen any in her family aside from her sire. To find Dru, without that idiot boy, smiling prettily at a fledgling, who frankly was beneath her, stirred possessive feelings long since buried.
“Excuse me,” she hissed, Carmilla’s tinkling laughter angering her more. There would be time later to jab a broken flute into the other vampire’s eye, but for now, she needed to talk to her crazy vampire.
“Ohh I knew you’d be here-nine magpies screamed it to me,” Dru said as she ascended the stairs.
“Leave us,” she told the fledge, who bowed her head a few times in supplication and left. She hated Carmila, but she instilled unflappable discipline in those she created.
“Drusilla, what are you doing here?” She must be out of practice, that question sounded less demanding.
“A little nymph came to me and asked me to attend,” she leaned in, whispering in Darla’s ear, “Can’t cut the cake without me.”
Some things never change: the smell of cloves, blood, coal smoke, the idiot boy and talc power were the same.
“She’s right,” Carmilla said, sanding on the stairs, “Drusilla has graciously agreed to be my medium this year. Isn’t that great?”
“Drusilla, tell me you didn’t.”
“She asked so nicely.” Drusilla took a sip of her blood filled glass.
She didn’t want to even ask but-“The fool didn’t try to stop you?”
The lovely smile on Dru’s face folded up into a cold expression. Maybe she finally rid herself of him.
“I am very cross with my knight. He is off stalking the slayer in the grass and has left me waiting under the hornbeam trees.”
With any luck, the slayer will end him. More pressing was getting Dru out of whatever cockamamie séance ritual Carmilla planned this year. Snake oil and chancery in the times before, but Dru wasn’t just a pretty face. Drusilla and magic rituals, no matter how made up, did not mix. Taking her by the wrist, Darla asked in her most promising tone, "Wouldn't you rather go find some orphans with me, my dear?"
"And miss the main event? Come now Darla, stop trying to ruin my fun." Carmilla snapped her finger and the redheaded fledged came up next to them.
"The little ones will still be wrapped in dreams when we are done," Dru said, " I have missed hunting with you, grandmum." Darla just knew Carmilla was sporting some wicked smile, she could hear it as she addressed Dru.
"We are ready if you are, Darling." Darla pinched Dru's wrist tight, but they younger vampire shook off her grip and extended her hand to the redhead.
"Lead on, little vixen." Dru blew her a kiss as she walked down the stairs on the arm of the redhead. The audacity!
"You can't leave now Darla, you’re my fifth. Besides, it looks like you want to keep and eye on your girl, so you might as well stay. The festivities are about to begin."
She allowed Carmillla to lead her down the stairs and through the French doors to what looked like an empty dinning room. Fine china lined three of the wood paneled walls, with a forth papered in pink. A chalk circle with a pentagram and other symbols was drawn on the floor, where the other women were seated cross-legged on the floor. She nodded to the women with her dark hair coiffed upward--one of Dracula’s former brides. Carmilla sat down across from Drusilla, who was on head point of the pentagram, leaving her to sit at the other foot of the pentagram across from the redheaded fledge.
"Darla, can you light that candle near you? Iiona, could you move that bowl a little closer to the middle? Good."
From a beaded bag slung over her shoulder, Carmilla placed a daguerreotype of a sullen faced girl right in the middle of the five candles and the bowl of blood. Darla rolled her eyes. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could take a bottle of champagne and abscond with Drusilla.
"Everyone join hands. We shall begin." Darla took Carmilla and Iiona’s hands in hers as Carmilla began to speak.
"My beloved Laura, I offer you gifts from undead existence into death. Commune with us Laura, walk among us."
The other women echoed her words as one: "Our beloved Laura, we offer you gifts from undead existence into death. Commune with us, Laura, walk among us."
A minute passed. Another. Then another. Carmilla repeated her words and so did they. She noticed she had chalk or powered bone or whatever Carmilla used to draw the circle, on her hem and stockings. If her silk stockings got filthy--
"Our beloved Laura, we offer you gifts from undead existence into death. Commune with us, Laura, walk among us."
They waited. Nothing. Why didn't she have another Daybreak?
"My beloved Laura--" Darla's fingers tighten as a feeling like touching frayed wires went through her, straighten her spine. The candle flames jumped.
"Carmilla," Dru said, in a voice much lower then her normal breathy tone. Shit.
Part 2
Author: Ersatz Fiction
Parings: Darla/Dru
Word count:2166
Rating: R for language, violence and descriptions of femslash vampire style.
Disclaimer: not him.
Spoilers: Tiny ones for 'Angel','Becoming part 2', 'To Shanshu in LA', 'Lullaby', 'Beneath me', 'Chosen', and 'NFA'
Summery: In which Darla attends a party she wishes she hadn’t, Drusilla has a rough night and Carmilla learns to let sleeping sprites lie.
AN: Written for zoesmith in the whedonland fic giving challenge using the prompt magic. Carmilla, the original lesbian vampire, predates Dracula by at least twenty years. All inappropriate word usage, spelling mistakes, tense confusion and poorly constructed MacGuffin devices are mine.
-----------
Darla wondered, as she sipped blood and champagne, why she didn't leave. She hated Carmilla, with her overly extravagant parties and her over inflated since of importance. Just because someone wrote a penny dreadful or two about her doesn’t make her a vampire queen. She wandered out of the parlor and over to the ornate sweeping staircase, tapping on the banister with a nail.
Still. She has not met with many of her own kind in this city. It would be most impolite to refuse an invitation to such an exclusive party. Especially, as she accept another flute of Daybreak from a women wearing only gauze and pearls, one with such lovely appetizers.
“Darla, you look so modern! I love what you've done with your hair.” Carmilla came down the stairs in a cloud of silk and perfume, kissing both her cheeks.
“Thank you, Carmilla, it's all the rage in the states you know.” She accepted the kisses with ones of her own.
Carmilla caressed the fringe of her hair, just grazing her cheek. “Yes, yes, I know. All the girls in Vogue are wearing their hair this short.”
“I do like to keep up with the times, makes blending in much easier.”
“Naturally. I daresay the ladies love a women who's in fashion. Though your Childe seems to be doing quite well without doing either.” She felt something small and hot like a small crucifix at those words, before she looked up to the next floor where Carmilla’s gaze was.
Drusilla. Dressed as she was last time she saw her, in a long ivory and onyx velvet dress, talking to some little redhead fledge who looked like she wanted to devour her. Darla’s smooth expression dropped to blatant surprise. Two decades--at least two decades had passed since she’d seen any in her family aside from her sire. To find Dru, without that idiot boy, smiling prettily at a fledgling, who frankly was beneath her, stirred possessive feelings long since buried.
“Excuse me,” she hissed, Carmilla’s tinkling laughter angering her more. There would be time later to jab a broken flute into the other vampire’s eye, but for now, she needed to talk to her crazy vampire.
“Ohh I knew you’d be here-nine magpies screamed it to me,” Dru said as she ascended the stairs.
“Leave us,” she told the fledge, who bowed her head a few times in supplication and left. She hated Carmila, but she instilled unflappable discipline in those she created.
“Drusilla, what are you doing here?” She must be out of practice, that question sounded less demanding.
“A little nymph came to me and asked me to attend,” she leaned in, whispering in Darla’s ear, “Can’t cut the cake without me.”
Some things never change: the smell of cloves, blood, coal smoke, the idiot boy and talc power were the same.
“She’s right,” Carmilla said, sanding on the stairs, “Drusilla has graciously agreed to be my medium this year. Isn’t that great?”
“Drusilla, tell me you didn’t.”
“She asked so nicely.” Drusilla took a sip of her blood filled glass.
She didn’t want to even ask but-“The fool didn’t try to stop you?”
The lovely smile on Dru’s face folded up into a cold expression. Maybe she finally rid herself of him.
“I am very cross with my knight. He is off stalking the slayer in the grass and has left me waiting under the hornbeam trees.”
With any luck, the slayer will end him. More pressing was getting Dru out of whatever cockamamie séance ritual Carmilla planned this year. Snake oil and chancery in the times before, but Dru wasn’t just a pretty face. Drusilla and magic rituals, no matter how made up, did not mix. Taking her by the wrist, Darla asked in her most promising tone, "Wouldn't you rather go find some orphans with me, my dear?"
"And miss the main event? Come now Darla, stop trying to ruin my fun." Carmilla snapped her finger and the redheaded fledged came up next to them.
"The little ones will still be wrapped in dreams when we are done," Dru said, " I have missed hunting with you, grandmum." Darla just knew Carmilla was sporting some wicked smile, she could hear it as she addressed Dru.
"We are ready if you are, Darling." Darla pinched Dru's wrist tight, but they younger vampire shook off her grip and extended her hand to the redhead.
"Lead on, little vixen." Dru blew her a kiss as she walked down the stairs on the arm of the redhead. The audacity!
"You can't leave now Darla, you’re my fifth. Besides, it looks like you want to keep and eye on your girl, so you might as well stay. The festivities are about to begin."
She allowed Carmillla to lead her down the stairs and through the French doors to what looked like an empty dinning room. Fine china lined three of the wood paneled walls, with a forth papered in pink. A chalk circle with a pentagram and other symbols was drawn on the floor, where the other women were seated cross-legged on the floor. She nodded to the women with her dark hair coiffed upward--one of Dracula’s former brides. Carmilla sat down across from Drusilla, who was on head point of the pentagram, leaving her to sit at the other foot of the pentagram across from the redheaded fledge.
"Darla, can you light that candle near you? Iiona, could you move that bowl a little closer to the middle? Good."
From a beaded bag slung over her shoulder, Carmilla placed a daguerreotype of a sullen faced girl right in the middle of the five candles and the bowl of blood. Darla rolled her eyes. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could take a bottle of champagne and abscond with Drusilla.
"Everyone join hands. We shall begin." Darla took Carmilla and Iiona’s hands in hers as Carmilla began to speak.
"My beloved Laura, I offer you gifts from undead existence into death. Commune with us Laura, walk among us."
The other women echoed her words as one: "Our beloved Laura, we offer you gifts from undead existence into death. Commune with us, Laura, walk among us."
A minute passed. Another. Then another. Carmilla repeated her words and so did they. She noticed she had chalk or powered bone or whatever Carmilla used to draw the circle, on her hem and stockings. If her silk stockings got filthy--
"Our beloved Laura, we offer you gifts from undead existence into death. Commune with us, Laura, walk among us."
They waited. Nothing. Why didn't she have another Daybreak?
"My beloved Laura--" Darla's fingers tighten as a feeling like touching frayed wires went through her, straighten her spine. The candle flames jumped.
"Carmilla," Dru said, in a voice much lower then her normal breathy tone. Shit.
Part 2