Je suis le nuit ( 3-20 Lamar)
Yup, it's been a long while since I've posted to this. I should post a lot of other, older, scenes; but this was *such* a cool scene between Joe and Natalie, I had to Share. :D
Oh yeah, typical crap blah blah ooc knowledge, blah blah flavor text, blah blah. I'm gonna soap box on all that one of these days. maybe tomorrow. But for now...
The night is a blanket; a velvet drape that the ancients believed separated the world of men from the worlds beyond. Stars line the velvet abyss, and a sliver of a bone white moon sails like a ship of old across the sky.
Joe kneels in the basement of the church that he and Natalie have taken as their own. Parched lips stretch in hushed prayer as he works carefully, inscribing the words upon the wall, the words of his sires, his fathers. Carefully, painstakingly, he and his childe have etched the stories of those before them into these walls. As Natalie takes a meditative break out in their grove, Joe works feverishly, pushing his meager skills to their limit.
"MERDE!" Joe curses quietly as he chips a piece loose that smears two letters together. He sets the chisel down and starts to smooth the sandstone carefully. Joe starts to pick the chisel back up, but stops. He regards his hands for a moment, and then looks back to the carefully drawn lines. Leaning close, he presses his finger to the stone, and lets his vitae push his vampiric strength as he presses hard into the sandstone, and begins to write...
Hours later:
Joe whispers in the old tongue, echoing the words on the wall in the language of his forefathers. Blood from his shredded fingertips smears into the wall as he traces the ancient words, echoed by a voice not entirely his own. "Je suis Charles du Mauvais, Charles les Sorciere... Je suis le Morte" In the deep black of the room, these words that Joe transcribes seem to come alive; becoming living scenes; as though Joe were living them as the others did. In the deep black of this room, Joe's senses do not see light, they see through the velvet curtain pulled across the eyes of humanity, taking Joe into worlds beyond as he begins to slip from consciousness…
Back in the grove:
Natalie kneels in contemplation, her inner thoughts her own. The night is quiet, warm but not sweltering. The air is still tonight, almost in spite of March's infamous penchant for gusting winds and sudden temperature drops. Kneeling in the center of the grove, Natty lifting up a prayer to the Dark Mother.
"Great and mighty Dark Mother. May your favor fall down upon your child. Grant your daughter wisdom and guidance.”
Under the wicked grin of the crescent moon Natalie can feel a... presence... like the hairs on the back of her neck standing up on end. Suddenly, there is movement. All around her, shapes without form, movement without sound. Shadows shift, darkened figures flit through trees at the edge of her sight...
Natty's eyes flash open. With a spin, she moves her feet under her in a crouching position. "Who's there." She demands, reaching into the sleeve of her robe to pull her dagger out.
With her heightened senses, Natalie can quickly tell that the forms are... ephemeral, wisp-like, mere Shadows. They seem to tear themselves from the trees, the brush, the very shallows of the ground itself. They slide over the hillside in jerking flashes, there one moment, gone the next, flowing to and into the church...
"Joe..." She whispers breathlessly.
Pushing her blood to into speed she flies into the church to where her sire, her teacher, her lover, is.
The Church is a nest of near impenetrable darkness, the shadows filling the pews and clinging thickly to the walls. Joe stands, illuminated by a almost spotlight like patch of moonlight, at the altar; his bloody fingers raised as if in supplication, his head cocked to the side as though from sheer exhaustion, eyelids fluttering over abyssal black pools where his eyes should be. He mutters prayers in French, Gael, Korean, English, and others all run together in a babbling patois.
Natty is stopped in her tracks by the insufferably thick darkness. It isn’t simply frightening, it’s cloistering in its oozing thickness. Focusing on the light surrounding Joe, she becomes single minded in her attempts to reach him.
As Natalie steps into the church, she can feel the sudden change in the atmosphere, feel it in Joe, in her own blood. Power pulses and focuses. Something calls to her at the very edge of her mind like familiar voice that only whispers to you in your dreams.
And the shadows take form
They assume a human form, less then half a dozen standing in a semi circle focused toward the altar at which Joe stands. He cries out breathily and collapses across the altar, impossibly leaving his shadow standing behind him. It seems to leap and step and... pour out from behind him. As he does, the darkness around Natalie's own feet pulls away from her, her own double moving to stand beside her "Sire"
The two take a position at the center of the group as if a Challenge of sorts had been issued. A combat of sorts begins... It is ritualistic, perhaps even formulaic, but almost otherworldly in it's fluid, but disjointed movements. As outside, the whole tableau seems to simple fade in and out, there one moment, gone the next.
Natty's eyes go white at the sight of her shadow leaving her. "Mother!"
Joe stirs in his torporous delirium to mirror his childe. “ FATHER!”
The combat continues, filling Natalie with a strange anxiety unlike anything she's felt before, except... except perhaps the first time she went over, pushed her mind into the silver of Twilight... Trembling slightly, Natty steps backwards away from scene.
The combat continues on for what seems like forever, her and her sires doubles finally gaining a strange victory, felling the other images, which one by one bow out, and dissolve into blackness. Finally alone, the shade of her lover turns to caress her own shadow and then turns to acknowledge Natalie, before they both dissolve, and all the darkness of the room begins to flow to Joe's rising form.
Behind the altar, he stands erect, arms raised up to the Heavens, cloaked fully in inky black as he screams.* "JE SUIS, LE NUIT!"
The temple fills with blackness and suddenly, as if he were always there, Joe is behind Natalie, falling to a slump in the pew next to her. Natty spins around and kneels at the feet of her chosen one "Joseph!" Natty shakes him a bit "Joseph can you hear me?"
Joe turns his head to Natalie and puts a hand on her face, gazing toward her with eyes of endless black. Within his eyes she sees her reflection, but this time instead of fear she feels it call to her, almost drawing her in. For a moment she is lost in them.
Joe smiles to Natty simply; she can feel his exhaustion, and the clarity and calm underneath that
"My love... what was that?” Natalie asks, speaking softly, almost a whisper.
Joe does not answer, but the calm he exudes continues as a Long shadow begins forming from the altar. Cloaked and cowled, it stretches towards the two as if its originator were walking, or rather floating toward them. A hand stretches out to "rest" on Joe's cheek, as another moves to caress Natalie's, just before the shade dissolves into the natural lighting of the room.
Joe's eyes return to normal as he blinks slightly and looks to Natalie. He smiles again as he notices her closing her eyes to the somehow "familiar" touch and kisses her softly.
"Je suis du Mauvais. Nous sommes du Mauvais. Nous sommes la nuit."
Natty opens her eyes and looks to Joe as she shakes her head slowly and whispers "I don't understand."
"Pardon...” Joe answers with a slight nod. “an ol' ghost was tellin' me somethin'. ‘We are ... of Mauvais. We are one with the Night.’ "
Natty closes her eyes and bows her head at his words "Wisdom and Guidance from the Mother to the Child."
Joe nods and lays his head on his childe's shoulder. He is exhausted, but not so much that he does not understand what he has felt this night; not so much to realize what has been shown to him.
Natty turns her head to whisper into his ear as her hand lay lightly upon his arm. “I wish to follow in my family's steps. I wish to serve the Mother as only those of our blood can."
Joe smiles and nods, his hopes confirmed. "I know, my love. I've felt it. I must be purged, to help you across. My blood must suffice to guide you through the Veil. You are nearly ready... So very nearly."
Natty closes her eyes, his words comforting her as they often do, and they embrace in the darkness of the shroud of night...
Oh yeah, typical crap blah blah ooc knowledge, blah blah flavor text, blah blah. I'm gonna soap box on all that one of these days. maybe tomorrow. But for now...
The night is a blanket; a velvet drape that the ancients believed separated the world of men from the worlds beyond. Stars line the velvet abyss, and a sliver of a bone white moon sails like a ship of old across the sky.
Joe kneels in the basement of the church that he and Natalie have taken as their own. Parched lips stretch in hushed prayer as he works carefully, inscribing the words upon the wall, the words of his sires, his fathers. Carefully, painstakingly, he and his childe have etched the stories of those before them into these walls. As Natalie takes a meditative break out in their grove, Joe works feverishly, pushing his meager skills to their limit.
"MERDE!" Joe curses quietly as he chips a piece loose that smears two letters together. He sets the chisel down and starts to smooth the sandstone carefully. Joe starts to pick the chisel back up, but stops. He regards his hands for a moment, and then looks back to the carefully drawn lines. Leaning close, he presses his finger to the stone, and lets his vitae push his vampiric strength as he presses hard into the sandstone, and begins to write...
Hours later:
Joe whispers in the old tongue, echoing the words on the wall in the language of his forefathers. Blood from his shredded fingertips smears into the wall as he traces the ancient words, echoed by a voice not entirely his own. "Je suis Charles du Mauvais, Charles les Sorciere... Je suis le Morte" In the deep black of the room, these words that Joe transcribes seem to come alive; becoming living scenes; as though Joe were living them as the others did. In the deep black of this room, Joe's senses do not see light, they see through the velvet curtain pulled across the eyes of humanity, taking Joe into worlds beyond as he begins to slip from consciousness…
Back in the grove:
Natalie kneels in contemplation, her inner thoughts her own. The night is quiet, warm but not sweltering. The air is still tonight, almost in spite of March's infamous penchant for gusting winds and sudden temperature drops. Kneeling in the center of the grove, Natty lifting up a prayer to the Dark Mother.
"Great and mighty Dark Mother. May your favor fall down upon your child. Grant your daughter wisdom and guidance.”
Under the wicked grin of the crescent moon Natalie can feel a... presence... like the hairs on the back of her neck standing up on end. Suddenly, there is movement. All around her, shapes without form, movement without sound. Shadows shift, darkened figures flit through trees at the edge of her sight...
Natty's eyes flash open. With a spin, she moves her feet under her in a crouching position. "Who's there." She demands, reaching into the sleeve of her robe to pull her dagger out.
With her heightened senses, Natalie can quickly tell that the forms are... ephemeral, wisp-like, mere Shadows. They seem to tear themselves from the trees, the brush, the very shallows of the ground itself. They slide over the hillside in jerking flashes, there one moment, gone the next, flowing to and into the church...
"Joe..." She whispers breathlessly.
Pushing her blood to into speed she flies into the church to where her sire, her teacher, her lover, is.
The Church is a nest of near impenetrable darkness, the shadows filling the pews and clinging thickly to the walls. Joe stands, illuminated by a almost spotlight like patch of moonlight, at the altar; his bloody fingers raised as if in supplication, his head cocked to the side as though from sheer exhaustion, eyelids fluttering over abyssal black pools where his eyes should be. He mutters prayers in French, Gael, Korean, English, and others all run together in a babbling patois.
Natty is stopped in her tracks by the insufferably thick darkness. It isn’t simply frightening, it’s cloistering in its oozing thickness. Focusing on the light surrounding Joe, she becomes single minded in her attempts to reach him.
As Natalie steps into the church, she can feel the sudden change in the atmosphere, feel it in Joe, in her own blood. Power pulses and focuses. Something calls to her at the very edge of her mind like familiar voice that only whispers to you in your dreams.
And the shadows take form
They assume a human form, less then half a dozen standing in a semi circle focused toward the altar at which Joe stands. He cries out breathily and collapses across the altar, impossibly leaving his shadow standing behind him. It seems to leap and step and... pour out from behind him. As he does, the darkness around Natalie's own feet pulls away from her, her own double moving to stand beside her "Sire"
The two take a position at the center of the group as if a Challenge of sorts had been issued. A combat of sorts begins... It is ritualistic, perhaps even formulaic, but almost otherworldly in it's fluid, but disjointed movements. As outside, the whole tableau seems to simple fade in and out, there one moment, gone the next.
Natty's eyes go white at the sight of her shadow leaving her. "Mother!"
Joe stirs in his torporous delirium to mirror his childe. “ FATHER!”
The combat continues, filling Natalie with a strange anxiety unlike anything she's felt before, except... except perhaps the first time she went over, pushed her mind into the silver of Twilight... Trembling slightly, Natty steps backwards away from scene.
The combat continues on for what seems like forever, her and her sires doubles finally gaining a strange victory, felling the other images, which one by one bow out, and dissolve into blackness. Finally alone, the shade of her lover turns to caress her own shadow and then turns to acknowledge Natalie, before they both dissolve, and all the darkness of the room begins to flow to Joe's rising form.
Behind the altar, he stands erect, arms raised up to the Heavens, cloaked fully in inky black as he screams.* "JE SUIS, LE NUIT!"
The temple fills with blackness and suddenly, as if he were always there, Joe is behind Natalie, falling to a slump in the pew next to her. Natty spins around and kneels at the feet of her chosen one "Joseph!" Natty shakes him a bit "Joseph can you hear me?"
Joe turns his head to Natalie and puts a hand on her face, gazing toward her with eyes of endless black. Within his eyes she sees her reflection, but this time instead of fear she feels it call to her, almost drawing her in. For a moment she is lost in them.
Joe smiles to Natty simply; she can feel his exhaustion, and the clarity and calm underneath that
"My love... what was that?” Natalie asks, speaking softly, almost a whisper.
Joe does not answer, but the calm he exudes continues as a Long shadow begins forming from the altar. Cloaked and cowled, it stretches towards the two as if its originator were walking, or rather floating toward them. A hand stretches out to "rest" on Joe's cheek, as another moves to caress Natalie's, just before the shade dissolves into the natural lighting of the room.
Joe's eyes return to normal as he blinks slightly and looks to Natalie. He smiles again as he notices her closing her eyes to the somehow "familiar" touch and kisses her softly.
"Je suis du Mauvais. Nous sommes du Mauvais. Nous sommes la nuit."
Natty opens her eyes and looks to Joe as she shakes her head slowly and whispers "I don't understand."
"Pardon...” Joe answers with a slight nod. “an ol' ghost was tellin' me somethin'. ‘We are ... of Mauvais. We are one with the Night.’ "
Natty closes her eyes and bows her head at his words "Wisdom and Guidance from the Mother to the Child."
Joe nods and lays his head on his childe's shoulder. He is exhausted, but not so much that he does not understand what he has felt this night; not so much to realize what has been shown to him.
Natty turns her head to whisper into his ear as her hand lay lightly upon his arm. “I wish to follow in my family's steps. I wish to serve the Mother as only those of our blood can."
Joe smiles and nods, his hopes confirmed. "I know, my love. I've felt it. I must be purged, to help you across. My blood must suffice to guide you through the Veil. You are nearly ready... So very nearly."
Natty closes her eyes, his words comforting her as they often do, and they embrace in the darkness of the shroud of night...