3am...and not so lonely.
3am
la Terreur.
It was a dangerous time to be in France, though Percy seemed to suffer no ill effect. He and Alex walked the streets of Paris as though murder and death were not a common place sight. The distant bells of Norte Dame counted the hour of three, the city silent in its deep slumber.
It seemed ironic to Percy that not but a year King Louis XVI had been executed for crimes against France, and countless other horrors that Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre visited upon the people of France daily. Indeed, there was hardly need for a vampire to worry for food, the ground soaked with the sweet nectar as though it can to the Earth what water could not. That was the arrogance of the French, to believe themselves righteous in every way while dipping their hands in blood as freely as any king. More so given that a king ruled by the Will of God, and Robespierre claimed to rule by the Will of The People. Fickle though that will be, it promised much in the way of anarchy.
“Attendez, citoyens! Monsieur, l'heure est en retard ... pourrions-nous parler?” A voice called from behind, catching both vampires’ attention as they stopped and turned confused expressions toward an unwelcome guest. The smell of American tobacco swirled about the air, leading the man a full twenty steps as he approached the pair. “ Ah, parlez-vous français bon seigneur? Forse italiano?”
“English.” Percy said with a gruff voice finally, tension building his in thin frame as he took in the French Loyalist appearance. Such men as these, at such hours, were particular dangerous.
“Ah, Anglais.” He took a long puff of his pipe, stepping forward into the light. The man was chubby, clothing fighting tightly over his barrel chest as though he had swollen up mysteriously through the nights celebration. Stiff, ruddy fingers twiddling as his eyes sparkled dangerously. “Not the place we find many Englishmen, Paris.” He laughed, as though the thought amused him before he glanced about the street. “Are you a spy?”
Alex looked at Percy suddenly, worry clear in his eyes as he licked his lips. This was how death usually came upon many of the unsuspecting of France.
“Blunt…”
“Ah, well…I do not see a reason to beat around the bush as your people say.” The man smiled, wide, chubby cheeks puffing out as his teeth glinted in the lamplight. There was a smell to him that seemed off putting, though it was heavily masked of bad perfume and smoke. “Tell me, English, what brings you to Paris streets so late?”
“The same that brings you, I suppose.”
“You hunt royalist spies? Ho-ho, I find that hard to imagine, Little English.” He laughed, barking out wheezing chuckles in the manner of a poodle choking on a bone. He pointed a stubby finger at Percy, and beamed. “You are funny, English. Very funny. I will hate to discover you mean ill to my France.”
“Have you become Robespierre, or have you always been thus? I imagined him to have a more regal stature…”
“Oui, sir, Robespierre does have a more regal stature…” He grinned, grimy in his mannerism. “But, uh…we have no need to discuss out honorable Robespierre.”
Percy scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tugged irritably at his velvet coat. “Forgive us, sir, we arrived late in the city. We are only passing through…”
“Oh?” This news seemed to delight the piggish man even more, reaching out to grab Percy’s arm to stop the man from turning. “So you would have…uh, papers, oui? If you are just passing through, surely you have travel papers?”
Three in the morning, Percy thought, was not the time to deal with such tiresome company. Papers. Papers to travel? Whatever happened to a free world that was not governed by rules and spies?
“You are loyal to the Revolution, sir?” He asked suddenly, turning his keen eyes from the grubby hand on his arm, to the man’s eyes.
“I am. I was there when Louis was killed, and when his bitch wife died. I soaked my cloth in both their bloods….so I might remember I was there.”
“Admirable, to remember the deaths of kings.” Percy smiled darkly, leaning in. “I heard that Louis prayed for France before screaming like a stuck pig.”
“Indeed, he did.”
“And I heard that Marie Antoinette was incestuous with her bastard, royal son.”
“Aye, so she did. So did I hear it, for I was there when the boy did say it.” The idea that Percy knew such things seemed to please the Frenchman.
“If only you could make King George spew his screams like a pig. Finish what the Americas did start. Destroy all that is just in the eyes of God, and replace him with another pig who does nothing but murder freely. I quite like the idea. Anarchy for the common man…”
The Frenchie’s face began to contort, as if the idea was repulsive all while he considered it so seriously for a moment. As though he questioned his own faith. “What is this?”
“Quite simply? God willed that Louis ruled, and the Satan laughed when you beheaded him. I mean, simply sir, France is damned and all that she spawned with it.”
His face was turning red in that moment, eyes glaring at Percy with a singular purpose of inflicting pain upon the vampire. And he was so absorbed in this, that he hardly took notice when Alex began to move, shifting until the fat man was firmly between himself, and Percy.
“By what right do you make such claim!?” His voice carried a note of dismay and distress, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his pistol and flint.
“Because, monsieur, I am of the devil….” Percy smirked, laughing as the man cried out suddenly, a petite blade blossoming through his chest.
”I thought he’d never shut up,” Alex remarked snidely, pulling the blade free and cleaning it with some disgust. “Why’d you have to egg him on? We could have been done with this a lot sooner…”
“Wouldn’t have been as much fun…”
“Fun?” Alex gave him a skeptical look, “I am always happy to face the gallows in the name of ‘fun’…I’ll remember that when we cross into to Germany and the Saxon’s mean to burn us for being French. It will be in the name of ‘fun’.”
Percy paused a moment, watching as Alex moodily started down the Paris streets again, a pool of warm blood collecting about his feet. “Well, burning at a stake…could be fun if were a witch…”
“Percy…”
“It could…” Starting off again, Percy trailed behind the younger vampire, head canted to the side thoughtfully. “They could cook their meat while she screamed.”
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 1,133
la Terreur.
It was a dangerous time to be in France, though Percy seemed to suffer no ill effect. He and Alex walked the streets of Paris as though murder and death were not a common place sight. The distant bells of Norte Dame counted the hour of three, the city silent in its deep slumber.
It seemed ironic to Percy that not but a year King Louis XVI had been executed for crimes against France, and countless other horrors that Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre visited upon the people of France daily. Indeed, there was hardly need for a vampire to worry for food, the ground soaked with the sweet nectar as though it can to the Earth what water could not. That was the arrogance of the French, to believe themselves righteous in every way while dipping their hands in blood as freely as any king. More so given that a king ruled by the Will of God, and Robespierre claimed to rule by the Will of The People. Fickle though that will be, it promised much in the way of anarchy.
“Attendez, citoyens! Monsieur, l'heure est en retard ... pourrions-nous parler?” A voice called from behind, catching both vampires’ attention as they stopped and turned confused expressions toward an unwelcome guest. The smell of American tobacco swirled about the air, leading the man a full twenty steps as he approached the pair. “ Ah, parlez-vous français bon seigneur? Forse italiano?”
“English.” Percy said with a gruff voice finally, tension building his in thin frame as he took in the French Loyalist appearance. Such men as these, at such hours, were particular dangerous.
“Ah, Anglais.” He took a long puff of his pipe, stepping forward into the light. The man was chubby, clothing fighting tightly over his barrel chest as though he had swollen up mysteriously through the nights celebration. Stiff, ruddy fingers twiddling as his eyes sparkled dangerously. “Not the place we find many Englishmen, Paris.” He laughed, as though the thought amused him before he glanced about the street. “Are you a spy?”
Alex looked at Percy suddenly, worry clear in his eyes as he licked his lips. This was how death usually came upon many of the unsuspecting of France.
“Blunt…”
“Ah, well…I do not see a reason to beat around the bush as your people say.” The man smiled, wide, chubby cheeks puffing out as his teeth glinted in the lamplight. There was a smell to him that seemed off putting, though it was heavily masked of bad perfume and smoke. “Tell me, English, what brings you to Paris streets so late?”
“The same that brings you, I suppose.”
“You hunt royalist spies? Ho-ho, I find that hard to imagine, Little English.” He laughed, barking out wheezing chuckles in the manner of a poodle choking on a bone. He pointed a stubby finger at Percy, and beamed. “You are funny, English. Very funny. I will hate to discover you mean ill to my France.”
“Have you become Robespierre, or have you always been thus? I imagined him to have a more regal stature…”
“Oui, sir, Robespierre does have a more regal stature…” He grinned, grimy in his mannerism. “But, uh…we have no need to discuss out honorable Robespierre.”
Percy scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tugged irritably at his velvet coat. “Forgive us, sir, we arrived late in the city. We are only passing through…”
“Oh?” This news seemed to delight the piggish man even more, reaching out to grab Percy’s arm to stop the man from turning. “So you would have…uh, papers, oui? If you are just passing through, surely you have travel papers?”
Three in the morning, Percy thought, was not the time to deal with such tiresome company. Papers. Papers to travel? Whatever happened to a free world that was not governed by rules and spies?
“You are loyal to the Revolution, sir?” He asked suddenly, turning his keen eyes from the grubby hand on his arm, to the man’s eyes.
“I am. I was there when Louis was killed, and when his bitch wife died. I soaked my cloth in both their bloods….so I might remember I was there.”
“Admirable, to remember the deaths of kings.” Percy smiled darkly, leaning in. “I heard that Louis prayed for France before screaming like a stuck pig.”
“Indeed, he did.”
“And I heard that Marie Antoinette was incestuous with her bastard, royal son.”
“Aye, so she did. So did I hear it, for I was there when the boy did say it.” The idea that Percy knew such things seemed to please the Frenchman.
“If only you could make King George spew his screams like a pig. Finish what the Americas did start. Destroy all that is just in the eyes of God, and replace him with another pig who does nothing but murder freely. I quite like the idea. Anarchy for the common man…”
The Frenchie’s face began to contort, as if the idea was repulsive all while he considered it so seriously for a moment. As though he questioned his own faith. “What is this?”
“Quite simply? God willed that Louis ruled, and the Satan laughed when you beheaded him. I mean, simply sir, France is damned and all that she spawned with it.”
His face was turning red in that moment, eyes glaring at Percy with a singular purpose of inflicting pain upon the vampire. And he was so absorbed in this, that he hardly took notice when Alex began to move, shifting until the fat man was firmly between himself, and Percy.
“By what right do you make such claim!?” His voice carried a note of dismay and distress, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his pistol and flint.
“Because, monsieur, I am of the devil….” Percy smirked, laughing as the man cried out suddenly, a petite blade blossoming through his chest.
”I thought he’d never shut up,” Alex remarked snidely, pulling the blade free and cleaning it with some disgust. “Why’d you have to egg him on? We could have been done with this a lot sooner…”
“Wouldn’t have been as much fun…”
“Fun?” Alex gave him a skeptical look, “I am always happy to face the gallows in the name of ‘fun’…I’ll remember that when we cross into to Germany and the Saxon’s mean to burn us for being French. It will be in the name of ‘fun’.”
Percy paused a moment, watching as Alex moodily started down the Paris streets again, a pool of warm blood collecting about his feet. “Well, burning at a stake…could be fun if were a witch…”
“Percy…”
“It could…” Starting off again, Percy trailed behind the younger vampire, head canted to the side thoughtfully. “They could cook their meat while she screamed.”
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 1,133