The ride to the court was a solemn one, and not just because of the untimely death of their master. Requiem felt that surely the road must be shorter, and the coach faster, than the last time he had come to pay a visit to Belle Morte. His fear and dread made the journey seem too short indeed. At last she would her exalted collection of blue-eyed lovers would be complete. He knew their names already, though he had not met them. Asher, with the eyes pale blue as a cold winter day, and Jean-Claude, with midnight blue eyes and said to hold the ardeur himself, and soon he himself, Requiem, would be cast alongside them in the trophy case of Belle Morte's bed. A trophy, a play thing, and instrument to be used when the fancy strikes, but nothing else.
Requiem had already been well trained in the art of seduction, and had long since given up ownership of his body and discounted his soul for lost. His hands were not his own, and his heart had long since gone silent. Silent, or dead, and he no longer cared. The only emotion he felt was fear, but even that was washed over in the numbness that he wore as tightly as any cloak or mask. He was well hidden, even from himself though he did not have feeling left to discern this.
~ ~ ~ ~
Belle knew her art well, and she played the part as if she were born to it. Her cast of players, her vampires, were all dressed appropriately for their roles, and the trap was baited and set for all the newcomers. The dinner was lavish. A long table dressed in ivory cloths, laid all about with silver. Human servants and the wereanimals sat at the floor, waiting to get scraps from a table that had never seen a crumb of food. Their food for the night was rolled out in a spectacular show, naked and silent, already bespelled by some vampire or frightened senseless - Requiem did not approach close enough to tell. One after another, the food was spread out before them, and Requiem felt his hunger rise despite himself.
Only when their hunger reached its apex, when they felt all civility must surely vanish before the crippling waves of hunger, did Belle at last appear. She spotted Requiem immediately, and called him forth to sit beside her. His hands shook slightly as he made his way down the long table, past the watching eyes of the others. Two men sat on her right and left, and Belle motioned for one of them to move so that he might sit closer to her. The man in question seemed to look pained at her request, but did not look at Requiem with any bitterness as he moved. Requiem, meeting the man's eyes, did not need an introduction.
"Jean-Claude has been selfish of late," Belle pouted, her voice ringing with supressed laughter. "But I can hardly stay angry when my collection is at last complete." She laid a tiny hand on the each of the men's hands, in turn, saving Requiem for last. "It's such a shame about your Master. Carriage accidents are so ...dull," she murmured, her eyes glinting wickedly.
"Christopher?"
He looked at Belle first, his mask slipping away to reveal some of the fear locked away inside. Fear that she had seen inside him, that she was a demon that could assume the voice that had been the very death of his soul. But Belle's eyes were not on him, but instead cast beyond him. He turned, following her gaze, and jerked his hand free of Belle Morte's reflexively. He had never thought to hear that name again...nor did he ever think he would look upon her face again.
"That name is long dead, and buried in a nameless grave. Requiem is all that is left now." He felt Belle's reaction at their words...curiousity seemed to be strongest, but annoyance was riding closely behind. His late Master's voice rang out in his memory... Do not let Belle learn your weaknesses, be on your guard when we are in her lands - always on guard. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, forcing himself to hide all the emotion inside him. All the hate, all the longing, all the bitterness he pushed deep inside, and felt his face go still at last. Only when he had himself under control, did he look back towards her.
"You have me at a loss, I fear." Here he felt his eyes burn with anger, but quickly hid it once more. "I fear I do not know your name. "
~ ~ ~ ~
The ride to the court was a solemn one, and not just because of the untimely death of their master. Requiem felt that surely the road must be shorter, and the coach faster, than the last time he had come to pay a visit to Belle Morte. His fear and dread made the journey seem too short indeed. At last she would her exalted collection of blue-eyed lovers would be complete. He knew their names already, though he had not met them. Asher, with the eyes pale blue as a cold winter day, and Jean-Claude, with midnight blue eyes and said to hold the ardeur himself, and soon he himself, Requiem, would be cast alongside them in the trophy case of Belle Morte's bed. A trophy, a play thing, and instrument to be used when the fancy strikes, but nothing else.
Requiem had already been well trained in the art of seduction, and had long since given up ownership of his body and discounted his soul for lost. His hands were not his own, and his heart had long since gone silent. Silent, or dead, and he no longer cared. The only emotion he felt was fear, but even that was washed over in the numbness that he wore as tightly as any cloak or mask. He was well hidden, even from himself though he did not have feeling left to discern this.
~ ~ ~ ~
Belle knew her art well, and she played the part as if she were born to it. Her cast of players, her vampires, were all dressed appropriately for their roles, and the trap was baited and set for all the newcomers. The dinner was lavish. A long table dressed in ivory cloths, laid all about with silver. Human servants and the wereanimals sat at the floor, waiting to get scraps from a table that had never seen a crumb of food. Their food for the night was rolled out in a spectacular show, naked and silent, already bespelled by some vampire or frightened senseless - Requiem did not approach close enough to tell. One after another, the food was spread out before them, and Requiem felt his hunger rise despite himself.
Only when their hunger reached its apex, when they felt all civility must surely vanish before the crippling waves of hunger, did Belle at last appear. She spotted Requiem immediately, and called him forth to sit beside her. His hands shook slightly as he made his way down the long table, past the watching eyes of the others. Two men sat on her right and left, and Belle motioned for one of them to move so that he might sit closer to her. The man in question seemed to look pained at her request, but did not look at Requiem with any bitterness as he moved. Requiem, meeting the man's eyes, did not need an introduction.
"Jean-Claude has been selfish of late," Belle pouted, her voice ringing with supressed laughter. "But I can hardly stay angry when my collection is at last complete." She laid a tiny hand on the each of the men's hands, in turn, saving Requiem for last. "It's such a shame about your Master. Carriage accidents are so ...dull," she murmured, her eyes glinting wickedly.
"Christopher?"
He looked at Belle first, his mask slipping away to reveal some of the fear locked away inside. Fear that she had seen inside him, that she was a demon that could assume the voice that had been the very death of his soul. But Belle's eyes were not on him, but instead cast beyond him. He turned, following her gaze, and jerked his hand free of Belle Morte's reflexively. He had never thought to hear that name again...nor did he ever think he would look upon her face again.
"That name is long dead, and buried in a nameless grave. Requiem is all that is left now." He felt Belle's reaction at their words...curiousity seemed to be strongest, but annoyance was riding closely behind. His late Master's voice rang out in his memory... Do not let Belle learn your weaknesses, be on your guard when we are in her lands - always on guard. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, forcing himself to hide all the emotion inside him. All the hate, all the longing, all the bitterness he pushed deep inside, and felt his face go still at last. Only when he had himself under control, did he look back towards her.
"You have me at a loss, I fear." Here he felt his eyes burn with anger, but quickly hid it once more. "I fear I do not know your name. "
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