Christian St. Michael fic....(damn I posted a lot today)
For my OWBN Brujah Christian.
Christian St. Michael stared at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree (Sapin de Noel) in his haven for long moments. This haven, like all the others, was decorated for the season but this one had the special antique ornaments on the tree that made this really feel like a St. Michael home. The tree reminded him of so many time-honored traditions such as eating the Galette de Rois (Epiphany cake) after New Years and sitting around the tree singing Christmas Carols.
But tonight he chose to honor a tradition of his own creation, one that was fifty years in the making. He clutched two boxes near his breast when he thought that nobody was looking only to have his dark thoughts interrupted by Jason.
“Are you alright sir? Do you need any more wrapping paper?”
“No, this will do Jason. Have you gassed up the Jaguar? I want to leave within the hour and not attract too much attention. Just you and Phillip are coming. Make sure he is awake as I want to leave as soon as possible.”
Christian sat alone in the back seat of the car in complete silence for the hours long trip and he had scarcely felt more alone than he did in those hours even though there were two people that adored him sitting just a few feet a way. The darkness outside the silent car seemed almost palpable, not menacing, but complete. The car passed through the gates and Christian did not even realize they had entered because it was so dark.
The back door of the car opened softly and Christian stepped hesitated inside before he could step out. “No, this is too difficult,” he murmured to himself in French, “it’s even harder this year because of her, her willfulness and sagacity that are so like the one you lost.” While he was mumbling to himself the ghouls had removed some flowers and two old boxes wrapped in Christmas paper from the front of the tombstones.
Christian choked back a blood tear and finally summoned the will to get out of the car and truly face his past. He first walked over to the larger of the tombstones and whispered, “Mon amour, I am sorry I was not strong enough to save you. I know you are resting in peace now but please again accept my pledge that this will never happen again to one who’s hand I take.” He laid the Christmas present at the front of the gravestone and prepared to move on.
Christian paused again. This one was even harder. The regret and shame and fear were even more palpable and threatened to this day to undermine what he had become, to take away the power that he had rightly achieved and now still feared greatly to lose. He approached the smaller tombstone and whispered again, “mon petit, I am sorry that I did not have the power or the moral courage to stand up for you. I know you are also resting in peace and not damned and please again accept my pledge that this will never happen again to any who I take as a ward out of love.” He placed the other Christmas present on top of the grave and slowly made his way back to the car.
All Christian had on the two hour trip home was his own silence to contend with but he liked it better that way.
.
Christian St. Michael stared at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree (Sapin de Noel) in his haven for long moments. This haven, like all the others, was decorated for the season but this one had the special antique ornaments on the tree that made this really feel like a St. Michael home. The tree reminded him of so many time-honored traditions such as eating the Galette de Rois (Epiphany cake) after New Years and sitting around the tree singing Christmas Carols.
But tonight he chose to honor a tradition of his own creation, one that was fifty years in the making. He clutched two boxes near his breast when he thought that nobody was looking only to have his dark thoughts interrupted by Jason.
“Are you alright sir? Do you need any more wrapping paper?”
“No, this will do Jason. Have you gassed up the Jaguar? I want to leave within the hour and not attract too much attention. Just you and Phillip are coming. Make sure he is awake as I want to leave as soon as possible.”
Christian sat alone in the back seat of the car in complete silence for the hours long trip and he had scarcely felt more alone than he did in those hours even though there were two people that adored him sitting just a few feet a way. The darkness outside the silent car seemed almost palpable, not menacing, but complete. The car passed through the gates and Christian did not even realize they had entered because it was so dark.
The back door of the car opened softly and Christian stepped hesitated inside before he could step out. “No, this is too difficult,” he murmured to himself in French, “it’s even harder this year because of her, her willfulness and sagacity that are so like the one you lost.” While he was mumbling to himself the ghouls had removed some flowers and two old boxes wrapped in Christmas paper from the front of the tombstones.
Christian choked back a blood tear and finally summoned the will to get out of the car and truly face his past. He first walked over to the larger of the tombstones and whispered, “Mon amour, I am sorry I was not strong enough to save you. I know you are resting in peace now but please again accept my pledge that this will never happen again to one who’s hand I take.” He laid the Christmas present at the front of the gravestone and prepared to move on.
Christian paused again. This one was even harder. The regret and shame and fear were even more palpable and threatened to this day to undermine what he had become, to take away the power that he had rightly achieved and now still feared greatly to lose. He approached the smaller tombstone and whispered again, “mon petit, I am sorry that I did not have the power or the moral courage to stand up for you. I know you are also resting in peace and not damned and please again accept my pledge that this will never happen again to any who I take as a ward out of love.” He placed the other Christmas present on top of the grave and slowly made his way back to the car.
All Christian had on the two hour trip home was his own silence to contend with but he liked it better that way.
.