The Meeting Occurs
I'm hoping to finish this up tomorrow, if at all possible. That'd be lovely, and then I can place Flint on a shelf whilst getting back to The Harming Tree proper.
He spent the night in the cinema house, slipping effortlessly into a small brown rat, one of many of them that the clean-up crew would probably see. After a very productive night of watching a compelling movie, he also supped on a luscious female, who was all too happy to share with Flint the needed nectar from her veins. Spying up from across the aisle, the woman could not watch the movie for stealing more glances with every passing minute. By the time the film was halfway finished, Flint had also lost interest and was sitting next to his new admirer. It wasn't every night that the unassuming Darkling could attract a human without using an almost uncomfortably level of Glamour. He just really didn't have it in him to be naturally irresistible. So when such a opportunity presented itself, Flint always gladly took advantage of it. It would mean that he wouldn't have to kill to eat this night; rather, he could take all the blood he needed and all the pleasure he may want without the inconvenience of having his prey realise what he was doing, and begin an angry protest. Flint just could not be sussed with such, and would bring their lovely little encounter to a close by affixing his mouth to the throat of the unwilling before him, and draw out all the blood, taking the lifeless husk to his favourite hill above Tinsel Town. It was just a pain in the arse, really, and there was no bonus of intimacy to be had, just food.
Flint liked the company of humanity, even if the attentions were brief. He preferred them that way, as oftentimes, the brief encounters were the most intense. For instance, in a dark movie house, surrounded by other people, to bring a person to the desired orgasm for the best effect of taking blood was a feat that Flint was more then ready to attempt. He liked challenges like that, and Flint was not prone to do much of anything that he did not fully enjoy.
And the afterglow from this one...well, it had been more than satisfactory for them both. Blood was enough to bring a Vampire to climax, particularly the Incubi and Succubi of the Darkblood Hive. But to have a human do what this woman did to him after the fact was nothing short of extraordinary. They both floated in one another's orbits, reaching levels of pleasure rarely experienced, especially in public and particularly in utter silence. The happy lassie had left quite fulfilled, but also left Flint profoundly spent.
He really could not bother trying to make it back to the abandoned warehouse where his spent his days. Instead, he decided to stay right where he was, and catch the early matinees while he waited for the night to fall again. Truth be told, Flint could live in a movie house, and never want for anything ever again, but he wasn't really that keen on being a rat every day for the rest of his life, or existence, or whatever it was that he was living now. No, this was merely a temporary inconvenience, a price to pay for a chance to melt into another as they desirously surprise you and do the same to you. He would go home after feeding on the night crowd once again, and start home early, so he could rest in his own humble bed.
He watched the cleaning crew finish up their half-baked attempts at making the dim theatre as clean as possible. One of them stopped and looked directly at him.
“What is it, Vince?”
“Another goddamn rat. When are they gonna call a professional to clean this dump out before someone gets bit on the toe by one of those nasty bastards?”
“Ah, leave it alone. We don't get paid enough to care, remember?”
The man averted his eyes, and Flint relaxed, absently picking up a kernel dropped from a popcorn bucket and munching quietly as he listened to the crew walk out.
“Larry, you are so right.”
Flint smiled inwardly and eased out of the corner of the theatre, looking about and wondering what seat he could curl up on for the rest of the night and tomorrow. Before he could choose, however, there was a stirring in the back of the theatre. Flint stood back on his haunches and gazed strongly into the now completely dark stadium. It was then that the saw the other Vampire. It was undeniable that this was a Vampire. And he was dragging a person behind him with one hand as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with the other.
How could a kill like this have been made without Flint knowing about it? Vampires always knew when another of their kind was close by, or at least Flint had assumed such over the long years of his wandering the night.
The Vampire turned his head, and narrowed his vast eyes when they set upon the face of Flint. Immediately Flint changed back, his clothes manifesting around him as his form moved up and out from the rat to the man.
“Um...Hi?” He said, the greeting coming out as a question, his accent already peeking through, even with such a short utterance. He lifted a hand in a wave and slowly lowered it, letting his too large sweater cover him down to his first knuckles. “Didn't see you earlier. Are you off, then, to dispose of the body? I know a great secluded place right outside Los Angeles. I can give you directions. Eh?”
The other Vampire remained silent and still as stone, looking down at Flint from his higher stair. Flint saw his nostrils flare slightly, and so briefly no one but even the most insightful vampire would have noticed. He felt a twinge of offence at the expression of disgust Cadmus had betrayed with the tiny movement of his nose. He also knew that Cadmus was taking in his scent, that strange combination of tobacco and opium that clouded about Flint like a shroud of senses. The corners of Cadmus' mouth tightened from a mild amusement that was gone almost as soon as the Vampire had given away this still very foreign emotion.
“Oh...I know you,” the dark-clad Vampire said, his voice a deep purr of seduction. Flint felt a blanket of Glamour wrap around him, and he intensified his tight gaze upon the beautiful Vampire before him. And, even though he was quite sated with blood and sex to last several nights if need be, Flint found himself musing over the idea of revolving around this Vampire, sharing Blood and joys only Vampires can truly imagine or appreciate. Ambrosciata was something Flint had rarely engaged in, preferring the unexpected benefits of taking human attentions, and their excited blood, so eager to be drunk in that climactic state. But Flint found himself imagining the darkest and most desirous of acts with this birdlike beauty standing so still and regal in front of him.
Flint lifted his chin a little in order to get a more direct bead on Cadmus' face. He took in the hint of Blood flow in the veins at Cadmus' temple, and wondered at the blue hue that gave the Vampire an undeniable strangeness and otherworldly attraction. His head was fraught with the periwinkle powder, which also touched his ample lips, curling now more noticeably in a deadly smile.
“You are the Waltham Phantom that they all talked about in the pockets of supposed civilisation that dotted along the peripheries of that great wood. I looked for you once,” Cadmus said, surprising Flint with a knowledge few, if any, had about him in these modern climes.
“Once?”
“Just once. I was bored, it seemed, one night or two whilst roaming the wilds of England.”
“Most people don't know that it was called Waltham,” Flint said, something holding him back from approaching the enrobed Darkling before him.
Cadmus tsk'd quietly, his teeth flashing too briefly for even Flint to catch the double fangs that framed his mouth. “Epping, if you will then, young one.”
“I'm not that young anymore,” laughed Flint, who found it a little disturbing that Cadmus did not join him in a much-needed moment of levity between them. He fell silent after a minute of chuckling to himself.
“By my standards, you're nothing but a titch.”
“Um, don't call me that. So why did you want to meet the notorious 'Waltham Phantom,'?”
“I wanted to rid the forest of any unnecessary hauntings,” Cadmus said slowly, letting his measured response sink fully in to Flint's brain, with all its dread ramifications.
He spent the night in the cinema house, slipping effortlessly into a small brown rat, one of many of them that the clean-up crew would probably see. After a very productive night of watching a compelling movie, he also supped on a luscious female, who was all too happy to share with Flint the needed nectar from her veins. Spying up from across the aisle, the woman could not watch the movie for stealing more glances with every passing minute. By the time the film was halfway finished, Flint had also lost interest and was sitting next to his new admirer. It wasn't every night that the unassuming Darkling could attract a human without using an almost uncomfortably level of Glamour. He just really didn't have it in him to be naturally irresistible. So when such a opportunity presented itself, Flint always gladly took advantage of it. It would mean that he wouldn't have to kill to eat this night; rather, he could take all the blood he needed and all the pleasure he may want without the inconvenience of having his prey realise what he was doing, and begin an angry protest. Flint just could not be sussed with such, and would bring their lovely little encounter to a close by affixing his mouth to the throat of the unwilling before him, and draw out all the blood, taking the lifeless husk to his favourite hill above Tinsel Town. It was just a pain in the arse, really, and there was no bonus of intimacy to be had, just food.
Flint liked the company of humanity, even if the attentions were brief. He preferred them that way, as oftentimes, the brief encounters were the most intense. For instance, in a dark movie house, surrounded by other people, to bring a person to the desired orgasm for the best effect of taking blood was a feat that Flint was more then ready to attempt. He liked challenges like that, and Flint was not prone to do much of anything that he did not fully enjoy.
And the afterglow from this one...well, it had been more than satisfactory for them both. Blood was enough to bring a Vampire to climax, particularly the Incubi and Succubi of the Darkblood Hive. But to have a human do what this woman did to him after the fact was nothing short of extraordinary. They both floated in one another's orbits, reaching levels of pleasure rarely experienced, especially in public and particularly in utter silence. The happy lassie had left quite fulfilled, but also left Flint profoundly spent.
He really could not bother trying to make it back to the abandoned warehouse where his spent his days. Instead, he decided to stay right where he was, and catch the early matinees while he waited for the night to fall again. Truth be told, Flint could live in a movie house, and never want for anything ever again, but he wasn't really that keen on being a rat every day for the rest of his life, or existence, or whatever it was that he was living now. No, this was merely a temporary inconvenience, a price to pay for a chance to melt into another as they desirously surprise you and do the same to you. He would go home after feeding on the night crowd once again, and start home early, so he could rest in his own humble bed.
He watched the cleaning crew finish up their half-baked attempts at making the dim theatre as clean as possible. One of them stopped and looked directly at him.
“What is it, Vince?”
“Another goddamn rat. When are they gonna call a professional to clean this dump out before someone gets bit on the toe by one of those nasty bastards?”
“Ah, leave it alone. We don't get paid enough to care, remember?”
The man averted his eyes, and Flint relaxed, absently picking up a kernel dropped from a popcorn bucket and munching quietly as he listened to the crew walk out.
“Larry, you are so right.”
Flint smiled inwardly and eased out of the corner of the theatre, looking about and wondering what seat he could curl up on for the rest of the night and tomorrow. Before he could choose, however, there was a stirring in the back of the theatre. Flint stood back on his haunches and gazed strongly into the now completely dark stadium. It was then that the saw the other Vampire. It was undeniable that this was a Vampire. And he was dragging a person behind him with one hand as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with the other.
How could a kill like this have been made without Flint knowing about it? Vampires always knew when another of their kind was close by, or at least Flint had assumed such over the long years of his wandering the night.
The Vampire turned his head, and narrowed his vast eyes when they set upon the face of Flint. Immediately Flint changed back, his clothes manifesting around him as his form moved up and out from the rat to the man.
“Um...Hi?” He said, the greeting coming out as a question, his accent already peeking through, even with such a short utterance. He lifted a hand in a wave and slowly lowered it, letting his too large sweater cover him down to his first knuckles. “Didn't see you earlier. Are you off, then, to dispose of the body? I know a great secluded place right outside Los Angeles. I can give you directions. Eh?”
The other Vampire remained silent and still as stone, looking down at Flint from his higher stair. Flint saw his nostrils flare slightly, and so briefly no one but even the most insightful vampire would have noticed. He felt a twinge of offence at the expression of disgust Cadmus had betrayed with the tiny movement of his nose. He also knew that Cadmus was taking in his scent, that strange combination of tobacco and opium that clouded about Flint like a shroud of senses. The corners of Cadmus' mouth tightened from a mild amusement that was gone almost as soon as the Vampire had given away this still very foreign emotion.
“Oh...I know you,” the dark-clad Vampire said, his voice a deep purr of seduction. Flint felt a blanket of Glamour wrap around him, and he intensified his tight gaze upon the beautiful Vampire before him. And, even though he was quite sated with blood and sex to last several nights if need be, Flint found himself musing over the idea of revolving around this Vampire, sharing Blood and joys only Vampires can truly imagine or appreciate. Ambrosciata was something Flint had rarely engaged in, preferring the unexpected benefits of taking human attentions, and their excited blood, so eager to be drunk in that climactic state. But Flint found himself imagining the darkest and most desirous of acts with this birdlike beauty standing so still and regal in front of him.
Flint lifted his chin a little in order to get a more direct bead on Cadmus' face. He took in the hint of Blood flow in the veins at Cadmus' temple, and wondered at the blue hue that gave the Vampire an undeniable strangeness and otherworldly attraction. His head was fraught with the periwinkle powder, which also touched his ample lips, curling now more noticeably in a deadly smile.
“You are the Waltham Phantom that they all talked about in the pockets of supposed civilisation that dotted along the peripheries of that great wood. I looked for you once,” Cadmus said, surprising Flint with a knowledge few, if any, had about him in these modern climes.
“Once?”
“Just once. I was bored, it seemed, one night or two whilst roaming the wilds of England.”
“Most people don't know that it was called Waltham,” Flint said, something holding him back from approaching the enrobed Darkling before him.
Cadmus tsk'd quietly, his teeth flashing too briefly for even Flint to catch the double fangs that framed his mouth. “Epping, if you will then, young one.”
“I'm not that young anymore,” laughed Flint, who found it a little disturbing that Cadmus did not join him in a much-needed moment of levity between them. He fell silent after a minute of chuckling to himself.
“By my standards, you're nothing but a titch.”
“Um, don't call me that. So why did you want to meet the notorious 'Waltham Phantom,'?”
“I wanted to rid the forest of any unnecessary hauntings,” Cadmus said slowly, letting his measured response sink fully in to Flint's brain, with all its dread ramifications.