Another Vampire Story
Notes: I will not be writing more of this in Kuroshitsuji-verse. I may, however, draft it with original characters. This is all Skittles' fault, because I'm reading The Vampire Chronicles for her, and somehow this image popped into mind, along with a positively lovely one of Alan tossing a squirming, leather-bound Eric over his shoulder, and marching back to his bedroom with him. However.
William T Spears is the King of New Orleans - at least, in vampire world, he is.
Grell Sutcliff is a rather irritating hunter-huntress that's causing problems for the King by killing some of his men.
There are seperate vampire sects all around them, a war is brewing, William needs all the help he can get, and Grell just has time to kill in between theatre productions.
Again, won't write more of this; will put up original character drafts.
When you ruled over the night, certain rules could be skipped or ignored.
William had been the leader for this particular arrondisment of vampires since New Orleans had been a baby; he'd made it this far by cultivating the right relationships with the right people; by politics, rather than brute, unbridled strength. Breaking rules was... tolerable, in certain situations. He'd certainly not advocate any of his follows in doing the same, but there had to be some perks when you were a leader.
If it had been the medic that had come to him with this problem, or the leader of his troops, William would've laughed and sent them on their way.
There was a hunter - allegedly a hunter, since it seemed like there was some discrepancy between descriptions on the gender - being a terrible nuisance and weakening his army; now, with covens to the east and the west, that couldn't keep going on.
Sending assassins out to kill it was useless. It sent them back in pieces.
Such gory overkill had to be male, despite Alan swearing up and down that he had seen a feminine face behind the blade. Females valued poison, and keeping their hands clean; it was men that enjoyed the intimacy and sexual connotations of stabbing into a warm, breathing body.
Male hunters would be easier to talk to. What William could not seduce, he could tempt; what he could not tempt, he would comfort, then kill. As long as the end result was in the death of the hunter, William didn't much care.
He'd lived centuries to learn not to care.
New Orleans was a-glitter. Lanterns hung from every white-washed porch, and the silver roads ribboned in between the houses like a river, fresh and clean. Music pulsed from the night-clubs, drunken revellers falling from the doors in a clicking mass of beads and heels - and jazz flowed thick as wine, over the feel of human partying from the little holes-in-the-wall bars that stayed open the latest, and skirted on the law when it came to liquor licences.
William drew a PDA from his back pocket, and tapped at the screen, squinting to read the small print on the dim screen; then, he looked up, and to the right, and trailed down that road. Took a right by a half-eaten oak-tree, then a left, over a rickety fence above the swampy waters. Knobbled backs of crocodiles glided slowly, islands of green and gray in the murk. There was death all around him, and a humming in his ears that could only be New Orlenais mosquitoes, and William was not pleased at this.
What sort of bloody hunter lived out in the bayou, anyway? Cor blimey, the stench was incredible - dead flowers and dead things and water gone stagnant and ghosts and misery and depression. He could only hazard how many people had taken a wrong turn into the water over the years.
William stopped, pulling out the PDA again - frowned, looked up. All there was were trees draped with moss, and water that churned only slightly with the wind; no house, no hunter. Alan had probably gotten it wrong. Bugger.
The silence was deafening. Even the mosquitoes didn't come here.
And then, softly, a twig snapped close by, and metal shicked against metal.
"Fuck," William swore blithely, and ducked as buckshot sprayed the tree behind him. "Oi! I'm only here to talk! Put that bloody thing away, you'll hurt someone."
Soft, feminine laughter warmed the freezing air, and from between the trees, she stepped out.
William straightened warily, his hands held aloft in a gesture of peace, and stared.
It wasn't a woman, not quite. The face was dainty, yes, with a delicate jaw that seemed crystal-spun, and a wide, soft mouth, and the kind of eyes that seemed ageless. These were green, turned angular and cat-like with streaked eyeliner, surrounded by dark, sharpened lashes. A thick, red braid fell over one shoulder, but the heat had caused bits of it to come loose, and fall around that china-doll face.
Despite the makeup, the very pose, the shoulders were just a shade too broad, the neck too thick, the voice not quite right. Man, then. An odd man.
William had just been shot at by a male hunter in makeup. Oh, brilliant. Like the night couldn't get even more weird.
"You're a man...?" William caught himself before the rest of the sentence was clear. "I beg your pardon, then; my, ah... guardsman told me you were a woman."
"I am," the redhead shouldered the heavy shotgun easily, barrel pointing up to the canopy of green. "A woman, that is. Somehow, I can't think you've walked all this way to ask me what kind of gender I am, your Highness."
William didn't much like the way it smiled; sarcastically, mouth tilting up at the corners, but the eyes remained unamused. Hmph. Wasn't a proper smile, that, just taking the mickey out of him. "... I don't follow."
She-He-It sighed. "My body's masculine. I'm not. Even God makes mistakes, darling; and it seems like yours was following me -- though I can't say I'd have, ah... minded. You're quite adorable, for a corpse."
"Vampire. Not corpse." William dared another step forwards, but between the crocodiles, and 'her', he wasn't sure he wanted to be any closer.
"Schemantics. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, you know."
"Yes, well. Corpse is incorrect. But I'm not here to discuss your gender, quite frankly, or what the proper name for us is." Seduction seemed like a less viable option, now, but William took the chance.
When the redhead's shoulders relaxed, William moved over to stand by him, and brought a hand up to caress the warmer skin of a living cheek. Those bright green eyes brightened, flame-like, then, his hand was slapped off.
"You shouldn't touch a lady without permission," the man-not-a-man scolded, and pressed the barrel of the gun to William's chest, stepping back to put distance between them.
"I can't help it," William smiled, and reached out again, "I'm attracted to beautiful things... Miss."
"Your attraction to beautiful things aside, I know you're only going through the lines. Christ, I've starred in more amateur theatrical productions than I can count; you think I don't know when someone's spouting off bullshit they don't really mean?" Another one of those grating smiles. "I am beautiful, darling, but you certainly don't see it. Men are always so blind."
William debated turning and leaving, then shook his head, planting his feet firmly on the ground. No, it was killing off his men. It needed to be dealt with - and since he couldn't kill her (not without problems of the political kind, not to mention that it didn't just kill his men, but others' as well) and couldn't seduce, the next best thing was to con.
"... I have a deal for you," William drew back, to avoid the wavering barrel of the shotgun, "that'll benefit both of us. You stop killing my men. I'll make sure that they don't kill anyone they're not supposed to."
"Children, for a start. Kill priests, if you want, darling; and murderers, and wife-beaters - kill the whole manky lot of them, but leave the children alone. New Orleans' a town of sinners. Surely you can find meals in it. I have it on good authority that corruption is delicious."
This would not go down well in court. William pinched the bridge of his nose. "... No, that won't work. Come to my castle. We can work out things there, properly."
Off that lancing look, he sighed, and added, "I'll personally come and get you and escort you safely there, and back. No harm will come to you as long as I'm here."
"Arrogant tosspot," the man mumbled, and William's lips twitched.
"Well, I didn't get to where I am by being modest. Is it a deal, then?" William held out a hand, waiting. The person shifted, uncomfortable, then glanced up, those eyes seeming to glow.
"Only if I don't have to call you 'your Highness' all the bloody time," came the smart reply, and William chuckled, snagging its hand before there was a change of mind.
"It's William. And you are...?"
"Miss--" the over-ennunciation of the word was not lost on the vampire, not a bit, "--Grell. Sutcliff." She indicated the gun. "This is Cordelia."
"Beautiful ladies indeed." And why she rolled her eyes, William could not understand - but, there, a blush! Good.
William didn't like thinking of the idea that his charm might be wearing off. It had taken him too long to learn how to be charming.
"Tomorrow, then. I'll come and find you. Would seven be alright?" William let go of her hand, watched as Grell - strange name - shifted her shotgun to her other shoulder.
"I'll look forward to it. Been a while since I've had a first date," she purred, and turned to leave, threading between the trees.
William watched until he could no longer see the flash of her red hair in the darkness.
William T Spears is the King of New Orleans - at least, in vampire world, he is.
Grell Sutcliff is a rather irritating hunter-huntress that's causing problems for the King by killing some of his men.
There are seperate vampire sects all around them, a war is brewing, William needs all the help he can get, and Grell just has time to kill in between theatre productions.
Again, won't write more of this; will put up original character drafts.
When you ruled over the night, certain rules could be skipped or ignored.
William had been the leader for this particular arrondisment of vampires since New Orleans had been a baby; he'd made it this far by cultivating the right relationships with the right people; by politics, rather than brute, unbridled strength. Breaking rules was... tolerable, in certain situations. He'd certainly not advocate any of his follows in doing the same, but there had to be some perks when you were a leader.
If it had been the medic that had come to him with this problem, or the leader of his troops, William would've laughed and sent them on their way.
There was a hunter - allegedly a hunter, since it seemed like there was some discrepancy between descriptions on the gender - being a terrible nuisance and weakening his army; now, with covens to the east and the west, that couldn't keep going on.
Sending assassins out to kill it was useless. It sent them back in pieces.
Such gory overkill had to be male, despite Alan swearing up and down that he had seen a feminine face behind the blade. Females valued poison, and keeping their hands clean; it was men that enjoyed the intimacy and sexual connotations of stabbing into a warm, breathing body.
Male hunters would be easier to talk to. What William could not seduce, he could tempt; what he could not tempt, he would comfort, then kill. As long as the end result was in the death of the hunter, William didn't much care.
He'd lived centuries to learn not to care.
New Orleans was a-glitter. Lanterns hung from every white-washed porch, and the silver roads ribboned in between the houses like a river, fresh and clean. Music pulsed from the night-clubs, drunken revellers falling from the doors in a clicking mass of beads and heels - and jazz flowed thick as wine, over the feel of human partying from the little holes-in-the-wall bars that stayed open the latest, and skirted on the law when it came to liquor licences.
William drew a PDA from his back pocket, and tapped at the screen, squinting to read the small print on the dim screen; then, he looked up, and to the right, and trailed down that road. Took a right by a half-eaten oak-tree, then a left, over a rickety fence above the swampy waters. Knobbled backs of crocodiles glided slowly, islands of green and gray in the murk. There was death all around him, and a humming in his ears that could only be New Orlenais mosquitoes, and William was not pleased at this.
What sort of bloody hunter lived out in the bayou, anyway? Cor blimey, the stench was incredible - dead flowers and dead things and water gone stagnant and ghosts and misery and depression. He could only hazard how many people had taken a wrong turn into the water over the years.
William stopped, pulling out the PDA again - frowned, looked up. All there was were trees draped with moss, and water that churned only slightly with the wind; no house, no hunter. Alan had probably gotten it wrong. Bugger.
The silence was deafening. Even the mosquitoes didn't come here.
And then, softly, a twig snapped close by, and metal shicked against metal.
"Fuck," William swore blithely, and ducked as buckshot sprayed the tree behind him. "Oi! I'm only here to talk! Put that bloody thing away, you'll hurt someone."
Soft, feminine laughter warmed the freezing air, and from between the trees, she stepped out.
William straightened warily, his hands held aloft in a gesture of peace, and stared.
It wasn't a woman, not quite. The face was dainty, yes, with a delicate jaw that seemed crystal-spun, and a wide, soft mouth, and the kind of eyes that seemed ageless. These were green, turned angular and cat-like with streaked eyeliner, surrounded by dark, sharpened lashes. A thick, red braid fell over one shoulder, but the heat had caused bits of it to come loose, and fall around that china-doll face.
Despite the makeup, the very pose, the shoulders were just a shade too broad, the neck too thick, the voice not quite right. Man, then. An odd man.
William had just been shot at by a male hunter in makeup. Oh, brilliant. Like the night couldn't get even more weird.
"You're a man...?" William caught himself before the rest of the sentence was clear. "I beg your pardon, then; my, ah... guardsman told me you were a woman."
"I am," the redhead shouldered the heavy shotgun easily, barrel pointing up to the canopy of green. "A woman, that is. Somehow, I can't think you've walked all this way to ask me what kind of gender I am, your Highness."
William didn't much like the way it smiled; sarcastically, mouth tilting up at the corners, but the eyes remained unamused. Hmph. Wasn't a proper smile, that, just taking the mickey out of him. "... I don't follow."
She-He-It sighed. "My body's masculine. I'm not. Even God makes mistakes, darling; and it seems like yours was following me -- though I can't say I'd have, ah... minded. You're quite adorable, for a corpse."
"Vampire. Not corpse." William dared another step forwards, but between the crocodiles, and 'her', he wasn't sure he wanted to be any closer.
"Schemantics. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, you know."
"Yes, well. Corpse is incorrect. But I'm not here to discuss your gender, quite frankly, or what the proper name for us is." Seduction seemed like a less viable option, now, but William took the chance.
When the redhead's shoulders relaxed, William moved over to stand by him, and brought a hand up to caress the warmer skin of a living cheek. Those bright green eyes brightened, flame-like, then, his hand was slapped off.
"You shouldn't touch a lady without permission," the man-not-a-man scolded, and pressed the barrel of the gun to William's chest, stepping back to put distance between them.
"I can't help it," William smiled, and reached out again, "I'm attracted to beautiful things... Miss."
"Your attraction to beautiful things aside, I know you're only going through the lines. Christ, I've starred in more amateur theatrical productions than I can count; you think I don't know when someone's spouting off bullshit they don't really mean?" Another one of those grating smiles. "I am beautiful, darling, but you certainly don't see it. Men are always so blind."
William debated turning and leaving, then shook his head, planting his feet firmly on the ground. No, it was killing off his men. It needed to be dealt with - and since he couldn't kill her (not without problems of the political kind, not to mention that it didn't just kill his men, but others' as well) and couldn't seduce, the next best thing was to con.
"... I have a deal for you," William drew back, to avoid the wavering barrel of the shotgun, "that'll benefit both of us. You stop killing my men. I'll make sure that they don't kill anyone they're not supposed to."
"Children, for a start. Kill priests, if you want, darling; and murderers, and wife-beaters - kill the whole manky lot of them, but leave the children alone. New Orleans' a town of sinners. Surely you can find meals in it. I have it on good authority that corruption is delicious."
This would not go down well in court. William pinched the bridge of his nose. "... No, that won't work. Come to my castle. We can work out things there, properly."
Off that lancing look, he sighed, and added, "I'll personally come and get you and escort you safely there, and back. No harm will come to you as long as I'm here."
"Arrogant tosspot," the man mumbled, and William's lips twitched.
"Well, I didn't get to where I am by being modest. Is it a deal, then?" William held out a hand, waiting. The person shifted, uncomfortable, then glanced up, those eyes seeming to glow.
"Only if I don't have to call you 'your Highness' all the bloody time," came the smart reply, and William chuckled, snagging its hand before there was a change of mind.
"It's William. And you are...?"
"Miss--" the over-ennunciation of the word was not lost on the vampire, not a bit, "--Grell. Sutcliff." She indicated the gun. "This is Cordelia."
"Beautiful ladies indeed." And why she rolled her eyes, William could not understand - but, there, a blush! Good.
William didn't like thinking of the idea that his charm might be wearing off. It had taken him too long to learn how to be charming.
"Tomorrow, then. I'll come and find you. Would seven be alright?" William let go of her hand, watched as Grell - strange name - shifted her shotgun to her other shoulder.
"I'll look forward to it. Been a while since I've had a first date," she purred, and turned to leave, threading between the trees.
William watched until he could no longer see the flash of her red hair in the darkness.