Entry 06 : Revenge
Title: "Revenge"
Entry Number: 06
Author: saraste_impi
Original: Before Dawn - series
Rating: PG-13 (some low-graphic violence)
Genre: Angst, Vampires, Femmeslash
Word Count: 1267
A/N: This one follows Wish You Were Here.
The time that she had first seen the girl, wondering idly for a moment why none of them had sought her out before, Priscilla was stunned. Fair hair the colour of straw, only lighter and more golden, like the sun-kissed late summer fields of Priscilla's human life, was framing the girl's pale face. Blue eyes, not quite the shade of Iris' smoky pale grey, the colour of morning sky instead of rainclouds, looked at Priscilla as Morgan introduced the girl. Jonathan had not said anything to her as he had come to fetch her, he had just told Priscilla that her presence was required, insisted, by Morgan. One did not disobey Morgan, as Priscilla had come to know through very personal experience. For a fleeting, mad moment Priscilla had been deceived, had rushed to the girl, had embraced her, only to come crashing down to reality.
“Iris? No, it can't be?! IRIS! Thank you God!”
Priscilla still remembered Morgan's laughter, she had hated her Mistress then, had nearly snapped the girl in two like a twig, just because she was there, because Priscilla could not kill Morgan. Morgan had promised her revenge. It had been a test, not even Jonathan, who had been behind her, just by the door to Morgan's sumptuous drawing room, had stepped in to stop Priscilla as she had nearly lost her grief. The girl had looked up at her with that painfully familiar face of hers, her blue eyes filled with terror. Priscilla had walked away, unable to stand it. She had hurried through the corridors of the little place in the country just miles from London, an old country seat of some peer or other, jerked open the door to her room, their room, and thrown herself on the floor, crying. Because the girl had been too much. An eerily spitting image of Iris. Too cruel.
All the girl seemed to want from them was the Blood, their immortality, a vampire's eternal kiss. She had been brave, not even flinching when Priscilla could easily have killed her. Her coming to them had been the first step in Gwen's doom, Priscilla's retribution over Iris' death.
Priscilla still saw her lover in her dreams, dreading the nightfall every night, because it meant waking into a world without Iris. Sometimes Priscilla still forgot, having dreamed of being with Iris again. When she rose, pushing off the lid of her coffin, swinging her legs over the edge and standing on the chilly hardwood floor, she remembered. She was always on the brink of going to Iris' coffin, still there as a haunting memory of her own betrayal, to wake up her love, and then she remembered. And wept.
“I want to go into the sun like you did... But first, my revenge. I swear, Iris. I swear you'll be avenged...” It was a mantra of hers, hissed into the empty room, every time after she had forgotten and then remembered.
But after Celia, it got much worse. Priscilla forgot more and more.
Though not related by blood, the girl's features evoked memories of Iris, a translucent image of her features dancing over Celia's. Priscilla found herself reaching out for a caress, her body moving of it's own accord, desperately trying to not let herself be deceived, fall to the illusion of what was not there... Still, she succumbed. It was her and Gwen all over again.
Her revenge was over all too soon. Priscilla had relished the sight of Gwen's anguish, the emotions running over Gwen's face when Morgan had presented her with an impossible choice. For a moment, Priscilla had thought that Gwen would choose the little girl. Instead, Gwen had faced her sister, Celia, who had chosen to seek them out, seek out the blood... and chosen her. Still, given everything, the panicked sobbing of the little girl in green, held by that handsome man who was Gwen's husband, Priscilla scarcely heard it, for her mind was fully fixed on Gwen, the hold she had on her sister, the look on Gwen's face as her fangs pierced tender flesh of Celia's freely offered neck.
“Suffer, suffer like I did...”
Priscilla had whispered the words ardently, mocking Gwen, relishing every single moment, not caring that the young man turned the girls eyes away and covered her eyes, telling her to close her eyes. Not caring that Gwen had murmured apologies to Celia before she had bit her, begging for her forgiveness. All Priscilla cared about was that Gwen had to kill someone she loved. That Gwen had to bite and tear into Celia's flesh, that she had to not care about her sister's life-blood flowing into her, that she had to taste Celia's death, feel her body jerk, her heart beat in desperation. Priscilla revelled in knowing that Gwen's husband had been there, that he knew and saw what she was, a killer.
“Thank you, sister...”
Those three words had followed a teary embrace and Gwen had left, taking the humans with her, not answering her sister. Priscilla had gotten her revenge. Having seen Gwen's suffering, getting drunk on her misery had been a heady experience. Morgan had kissed Celia and welcomed her to their Family of Blood. Priscilla herself had gone through the motions, her mind still lingering on the bloodied tears on Gwen's face, and down, staining the ivory lace of her blouse, the way Gwen's body had shuddered, how Celia's had contorted as she'd screamed in pain, however-much easier her sister had tried to make the transition for her. Celia had received a kiss, as was proper, from Priscilla, and Jonathan and even Christian, who had watched it all impassively, none of them knew if he begrudged Morgan for not choosing him. Priscilla had not cared.
“Oh, it is you, Celia. What do you want?” Priscilla had asked, later, days later, as Celia had appeared on the door to her bed chamber.
She had smiled, Celia had smiled, the girl in her gone, a predator looking through her baby blue eyes. Blood in her hands, blood on her clothes, a most unsettling smile on her lips. Priscilla had slipped in the days following Celia's rebirth. She had thrown herself into the Hunt with the girl, observing the blonde's personality being consumed by the inherent darkness in her, which the Blood had awoken. The girl had struggled, but by the end, it seemed like there was nothing left any more of her original self. Just a cold-blooded killer without a conscience, without any morals, without any caution. Even Morgan had seemed somewhat concerned by the girl's reckless nature.
“I killed them. I killed them and she found them. Mommy was so happy to see me, she did not even see the blood, father's blood. The servants were tasty, even nanny Phillips...I watched outside the window as she came to visit. She found them and screamed. She cried...” Celia had explained, walking to Priscilla, embracing her and kissing her. Something in Priscilla broke and she sobbed, holding Celia close, kissing her back through bloodied tears.
That night, Priscilla had held Iris in her arms, wondering why she had changed so much from the sweet girl whom she had once known, so long ago now. Iris had killed an entire house-hold, creeping into their house like an angel of death, butchering them all. Without remorse. But as Iris kissed her once more and then many many times more, all was forgotten. It was like Priscilla had waken up from a nightmare and plunged head-first into the wonderful reality.