RP: Descended From Darkness
Date: March 6th, 2005
Character(s): Sanguini
Location: The Basement Of Copper Towers
Status: Private
Summary: The past haunts those who have lived to see it.
Completion: Complete
Sanguini lounged on his couch, staring off into nothing. Cheshire, who had been resting on the chair nearby a moment before, had noted the change in his master's mood and trodded off into the bedroom to rest in peace. Sanguini was still as a statue, an ability most of his kind learned after a few decades. While he usually had a pulse, albeit a very faint and often erratic one, he was like living stone now, not even breathing. He was thinking of the past, a terrible thing for a man to do when they wanted peace. The vampire didn't even blink as his mind wandered through centuries of memories at a rapid pace.
Marja was smiling. She was generally a very pensive girl, prone to a sad gaze even when she was happy. Stefan found himself smiling as well, something that was unusual for him as well. Generally he was preoccupied with dark thoughts, but when he had met Marja, it seemed that they had all flown away to some unknown destination. They lay in bed quietly together, Marja curled up against Stefan's chest, her hand absently threading through his hair. In those times, his hair was down far past his shoulders, halfway down his back. It was very dark, almost black. Hers was longer, reaching her waist, although it was a white blonde that matched her pale skin. They kissed briefly, a gentle brush of lips that sent a wave of desire through Stefan's blood...
...Josephine was sitting on her throne, an imperious empress. She was pale, deathly so. It made her look almost ethereal, as if she was about to float away or disappear. The dress she was wearing was centuries out of date, but it was a pristine white, contrary to the black clothes those surrounding her were wearing. It was impossible to tell her pupil from her iris; her eyes were utterly black. The whites of them contrasted against the rest of her eyes starkly. Stefan dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Marja dropped down beside him, oblivious to the rage the elder vampire was radiating. Stefan felt his whole body tense, wondering if it had been a mistake to bring her here. He had trusted Josephine when she said she would like his lover to come to her court, and that she would be unharmed. Unfortunately, Stefan knew that Josephine's definition of harm could be very flexible, and he resisted the urge to pull Marja into his arms, protecting her from the dark gaze of his sire...
...her grave. Stefan, now Sanguini, stared at the still fresh earth by the headstone, although he knew that grass would soon grow over it and her grave would be like that of dozens of others. He laid white roses, her favorite, on the earth, sorrow burning at the corners of his eyes. Blood trickled down his cheeks, a vampiric mockery of tears, and he swore somehow to get revenge. He wasn't sure who had killed her, but he knew Josephine had ordered it. She had become jealous that her child had strayed from her arms, and as such, had removed what she saw as a thread to her power. Sanguini had had to move Marja's body as far away as possible, knowing that it was entirely possible that his sire would continue to wound him by desecrating her grave. Sanguini turned and began to walk away, not noticing the vampire standing by a nearby copse of trees, a triumphant smile on his face...
Sanguini sat up suddenly, his body protesting the quick movement after being still for so long. His body trembled. Part of him was tempted to run far away from this place. Augustus had warned him after all, and the vampire was sure that Josephine would eventually find her way here, simply to torment him. A brief wave of panic went through his blood when he considered that she might believe the relationship he had with Narcissa to be a threat to her, and he would not let her ruin someone he cared about so deeply, not again. But what was he to say? He would not mention Narcissa, that was for sure, but what if Josephine found them on one of their walks, or came down to his home while they were sharing dinner? The vampire honestly had no idea. Should he warn Narcissa, tell her to stay away from him? No, he could not do that. He cared about her too much to avoid her.
Sanguini sat there in the darkness, his mind twisting in panic and confusion. He was almost grateful when the sun came up, stealing away his conciousness. In the moments before his life faded from him, he realized that soon, he would have to make a decision. What that decision would be, he did not know.
Character(s): Sanguini
Location: The Basement Of Copper Towers
Status: Private
Summary: The past haunts those who have lived to see it.
Completion: Complete
Sanguini lounged on his couch, staring off into nothing. Cheshire, who had been resting on the chair nearby a moment before, had noted the change in his master's mood and trodded off into the bedroom to rest in peace. Sanguini was still as a statue, an ability most of his kind learned after a few decades. While he usually had a pulse, albeit a very faint and often erratic one, he was like living stone now, not even breathing. He was thinking of the past, a terrible thing for a man to do when they wanted peace. The vampire didn't even blink as his mind wandered through centuries of memories at a rapid pace.
Marja was smiling. She was generally a very pensive girl, prone to a sad gaze even when she was happy. Stefan found himself smiling as well, something that was unusual for him as well. Generally he was preoccupied with dark thoughts, but when he had met Marja, it seemed that they had all flown away to some unknown destination. They lay in bed quietly together, Marja curled up against Stefan's chest, her hand absently threading through his hair. In those times, his hair was down far past his shoulders, halfway down his back. It was very dark, almost black. Hers was longer, reaching her waist, although it was a white blonde that matched her pale skin. They kissed briefly, a gentle brush of lips that sent a wave of desire through Stefan's blood...
...Josephine was sitting on her throne, an imperious empress. She was pale, deathly so. It made her look almost ethereal, as if she was about to float away or disappear. The dress she was wearing was centuries out of date, but it was a pristine white, contrary to the black clothes those surrounding her were wearing. It was impossible to tell her pupil from her iris; her eyes were utterly black. The whites of them contrasted against the rest of her eyes starkly. Stefan dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Marja dropped down beside him, oblivious to the rage the elder vampire was radiating. Stefan felt his whole body tense, wondering if it had been a mistake to bring her here. He had trusted Josephine when she said she would like his lover to come to her court, and that she would be unharmed. Unfortunately, Stefan knew that Josephine's definition of harm could be very flexible, and he resisted the urge to pull Marja into his arms, protecting her from the dark gaze of his sire...
...her grave. Stefan, now Sanguini, stared at the still fresh earth by the headstone, although he knew that grass would soon grow over it and her grave would be like that of dozens of others. He laid white roses, her favorite, on the earth, sorrow burning at the corners of his eyes. Blood trickled down his cheeks, a vampiric mockery of tears, and he swore somehow to get revenge. He wasn't sure who had killed her, but he knew Josephine had ordered it. She had become jealous that her child had strayed from her arms, and as such, had removed what she saw as a thread to her power. Sanguini had had to move Marja's body as far away as possible, knowing that it was entirely possible that his sire would continue to wound him by desecrating her grave. Sanguini turned and began to walk away, not noticing the vampire standing by a nearby copse of trees, a triumphant smile on his face...
Sanguini sat up suddenly, his body protesting the quick movement after being still for so long. His body trembled. Part of him was tempted to run far away from this place. Augustus had warned him after all, and the vampire was sure that Josephine would eventually find her way here, simply to torment him. A brief wave of panic went through his blood when he considered that she might believe the relationship he had with Narcissa to be a threat to her, and he would not let her ruin someone he cared about so deeply, not again. But what was he to say? He would not mention Narcissa, that was for sure, but what if Josephine found them on one of their walks, or came down to his home while they were sharing dinner? The vampire honestly had no idea. Should he warn Narcissa, tell her to stay away from him? No, he could not do that. He cared about her too much to avoid her.
Sanguini sat there in the darkness, his mind twisting in panic and confusion. He was almost grateful when the sun came up, stealing away his conciousness. In the moments before his life faded from him, he realized that soon, he would have to make a decision. What that decision would be, he did not know.