Best Left Forgotten (Vampire Hunter D, Doris/D, otp_100)
Title: Best Left Forgotten
Fandom: Vampire Hunter D
Characters: Doris/D
Prompt: 025. Party
Word Count: 736w
Rating: pg13
The lights were low, the delicate beauty of the surroundings exquisite; gold curled its way up along the walls, a chandelier cast a thousand refracting pieces of light over the floor, and the rich silks and intoxicating scents all painted a picture of almost unimaginable luxury.
Doris watched her boots track mud on the ground. Where she stepped for a moment the projection faltered and failed, golden light flowing, shattering and reforming over the marks of her feet, impeccable once more.
Just beyond the edge of the light, airy music, she could hear her footsteps echo in the vast and empty space.
In the projection, the scene was flushed with light and beauty. In reality, she reached out and catch shreds of rotting cloth where heavy velvet curtains hung in the illusion. It was a long-decayed splendour that lingered.
His tread was soundless, but she turned anyway, instinctive. "It used to be beautiful," she remarked hesitantly, studying his implacable features.
His head inclined.
She left the obvious -- but not for a long, long time -- unstated. "Why is this on?" She asked, turning instead to inspect the high curve of the ceiling, the gowns that almost swept her feet as their hems whirled past. "Who left it on?" It must have been on for some time, for it was losing energy; the Nobles had mastered the art of holograms so real they could fool the sense of touch as well as sight, yet she could feel the cloth giving way beneath her hands.
"Someone who mourned," he said. "Long dead now."
The skin crawled along her spine. "And this has just been...going on and on without them."
"It is programmed to continue until it is turned off."
She surveyed the dancers. "Were these real people?"
D walked with slow deliberation into the swirl of shining figures. He cut a dark, angular figure amongst their sweeping skirts, elaborate hair and glittering eyes. The figures in the expertly constructed hologram parted around him, though they gave no sign of noticing him. His face was perfectly still, and for a second she gritted her teeth at the wave of chill that swept off of his skin, making the hologram ripple restlessly.
"Once," he said flatly. "A long time ago."
She craned her neck to try and see what he saw, but she only caught the faintest glimpse of a tall, shadowed form before the crowds obscured them again. "And now they're just drones, dancing into eternity." She studied their inhumanly graceful movements, their smiles. "Do you dance, D?"
Dead silence met the question. Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. It was hard not to become familiar with D's reticence; when he bothered to talk, which wasn't often, he usually didn't do it for long. And he didn't seem used to having questions aimed at him from people he was actually willing to answer.
Finally he said, "I know how."
She stirred her fingers through the decaying curtains again, watching the light move oddly, faltering in swathes. "I never learned dances like these -- never any call for them." She frowned and moved aside as the image of a female Noble swept past too close. Softly she said, "I like ours better. This doesn't feel -- alive."
Immediately she felt foolish. It was a hologram, and an old and malfunctioning one at that. Of course it wasn't alive.
"No," D said, and she looked up at him, surprised. He moved his foot slightly and suddenly -- abruptly enough to jolt her upright with a gasp -- the light and motion and music flooding the chamber vanished, died away, leaving them in a cavernous and long fallen to ruin room and the musty silence that filled it. "No," he repeated. "And it never was."
She suppressed a shiver. "Let's get out of here," she said. "I don't think this place has anything for us."
He turned slowly back to her, as if he'd half forgotten her presence after a moment he said, "nothing for the living." And Doris looked at him steadily and then walked toward the door.
She wanted to say something, to reach out or argue against the ancient darkness looming in his eyes, but she knew him too well. So she just pushed the heavy doors open, letting in watery light, and listened for his footsteps as he finally followed her back into the evening.
Fandom: Vampire Hunter D
Characters: Doris/D
Prompt: 025. Party
Word Count: 736w
Rating: pg13
The lights were low, the delicate beauty of the surroundings exquisite; gold curled its way up along the walls, a chandelier cast a thousand refracting pieces of light over the floor, and the rich silks and intoxicating scents all painted a picture of almost unimaginable luxury.
Doris watched her boots track mud on the ground. Where she stepped for a moment the projection faltered and failed, golden light flowing, shattering and reforming over the marks of her feet, impeccable once more.
Just beyond the edge of the light, airy music, she could hear her footsteps echo in the vast and empty space.
In the projection, the scene was flushed with light and beauty. In reality, she reached out and catch shreds of rotting cloth where heavy velvet curtains hung in the illusion. It was a long-decayed splendour that lingered.
His tread was soundless, but she turned anyway, instinctive. "It used to be beautiful," she remarked hesitantly, studying his implacable features.
His head inclined.
She left the obvious -- but not for a long, long time -- unstated. "Why is this on?" She asked, turning instead to inspect the high curve of the ceiling, the gowns that almost swept her feet as their hems whirled past. "Who left it on?" It must have been on for some time, for it was losing energy; the Nobles had mastered the art of holograms so real they could fool the sense of touch as well as sight, yet she could feel the cloth giving way beneath her hands.
"Someone who mourned," he said. "Long dead now."
The skin crawled along her spine. "And this has just been...going on and on without them."
"It is programmed to continue until it is turned off."
She surveyed the dancers. "Were these real people?"
D walked with slow deliberation into the swirl of shining figures. He cut a dark, angular figure amongst their sweeping skirts, elaborate hair and glittering eyes. The figures in the expertly constructed hologram parted around him, though they gave no sign of noticing him. His face was perfectly still, and for a second she gritted her teeth at the wave of chill that swept off of his skin, making the hologram ripple restlessly.
"Once," he said flatly. "A long time ago."
She craned her neck to try and see what he saw, but she only caught the faintest glimpse of a tall, shadowed form before the crowds obscured them again. "And now they're just drones, dancing into eternity." She studied their inhumanly graceful movements, their smiles. "Do you dance, D?"
Dead silence met the question. Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. It was hard not to become familiar with D's reticence; when he bothered to talk, which wasn't often, he usually didn't do it for long. And he didn't seem used to having questions aimed at him from people he was actually willing to answer.
Finally he said, "I know how."
She stirred her fingers through the decaying curtains again, watching the light move oddly, faltering in swathes. "I never learned dances like these -- never any call for them." She frowned and moved aside as the image of a female Noble swept past too close. Softly she said, "I like ours better. This doesn't feel -- alive."
Immediately she felt foolish. It was a hologram, and an old and malfunctioning one at that. Of course it wasn't alive.
"No," D said, and she looked up at him, surprised. He moved his foot slightly and suddenly -- abruptly enough to jolt her upright with a gasp -- the light and motion and music flooding the chamber vanished, died away, leaving them in a cavernous and long fallen to ruin room and the musty silence that filled it. "No," he repeated. "And it never was."
She suppressed a shiver. "Let's get out of here," she said. "I don't think this place has anything for us."
He turned slowly back to her, as if he'd half forgotten her presence after a moment he said, "nothing for the living." And Doris looked at him steadily and then walked toward the door.
She wanted to say something, to reach out or argue against the ancient darkness looming in his eyes, but she knew him too well. So she just pushed the heavy doors open, letting in watery light, and listened for his footsteps as he finally followed her back into the evening.