(no subject)
Utopia
Bleeding didn’t mean anything to him. It was simply a reminder that he was still physical in some fashion, that he was not a ghost set adrift in a lonely Italian villa. The pain meant even less, numbing him to the brutality of life. Though, perhaps, it was a brutality he had created for himself?
Gawain grunted, throwing one last vase against the far wall as he stalked from the room, the distant sounds of the front door opening and then slamming shut. His sire’s anger drew an unkind smile to his lips, as though the fighting had been worth the reward. The satisfaction of forcing the vampire from their shared dwelling to find new means of quenching his thirst.
Stepping away from the window, Percy flopped back against a couch, lazily draping himself along the fine cushions, and sighing softly. His own personal Utopia-- the silent, empty home. The cool breeze carried the scent of Venice with it, the jovial sounds of laughter mixing with distant music.
“This is my heaven,” he commented idly, his head rolling to the side as he inspected the sluggish trail of blood that dripped from his fingertips. “Bloody though she may be…”
He twisted his head a moment, looking to the side as though someone were speaking, before he smiled and laughed a little. “Why should no’ it be?…Sin?” He laughed again, shaking his head at his invisible companion. “What does sin really matter? This is a heaven without God….without…Hell. I never wan’ to leave it.”
There was a silence that fell over the room again, before he grunted and shifted, casting a dark look that tracked his ‘companion’s’ movements. “I do no’ care. I don’ care if all the blood in the world soaks into his damned linens.”
He paused again, before pushing himself up to his feet and glaring. His clothing hung on him, a blood strained undergarment tucked into unremarkable hose and breeches, all of it making him look so much smaller than he was. “I don’ have to speak with him! Let him kill me….” His eyes narrowed, head tilted toward the side carefully. “Hell…heh, you would think I deserved hell. I don’! I won’ go to hell! Lucifer himself can come for my soul, and I won’ let him have it.” His voice echoed in the silent room, the breeze pushing the curtains against the floor as he frowned.
And then as suddenly as his one-sided argument began, Percy became contrite, sliding down to the floor to sit unceremoniously. “I’m sorry, I didn’ mean to yell…” He apologized softly, looking at the carpet with a mixed expression. “I’m no’ angry with you…”
There was a moment in which he flinched and closed his eyes, nodding silently as he seemed to listen to someone intently. But then he was scrambling to his feet, an arm out stretched as he gaped pleadingly, “no! Please don’ leave. I won’ fight with him no more, just don’ leave…Don’ leave…”
I’m sorry…
Frowning, he turned back to the window, walking toward it with slow, heavy steps. The sounds of local whores filling the air as he leaned through the sill, trying to catch a glimpse someone that no one else could see.
“Why do you always leave me….” he murmured questioningly, “why can’ you just stay?”
What was heaven, utopia…if he were alone?
====
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 561
Bleeding didn’t mean anything to him. It was simply a reminder that he was still physical in some fashion, that he was not a ghost set adrift in a lonely Italian villa. The pain meant even less, numbing him to the brutality of life. Though, perhaps, it was a brutality he had created for himself?
Gawain grunted, throwing one last vase against the far wall as he stalked from the room, the distant sounds of the front door opening and then slamming shut. His sire’s anger drew an unkind smile to his lips, as though the fighting had been worth the reward. The satisfaction of forcing the vampire from their shared dwelling to find new means of quenching his thirst.
Stepping away from the window, Percy flopped back against a couch, lazily draping himself along the fine cushions, and sighing softly. His own personal Utopia-- the silent, empty home. The cool breeze carried the scent of Venice with it, the jovial sounds of laughter mixing with distant music.
“This is my heaven,” he commented idly, his head rolling to the side as he inspected the sluggish trail of blood that dripped from his fingertips. “Bloody though she may be…”
He twisted his head a moment, looking to the side as though someone were speaking, before he smiled and laughed a little. “Why should no’ it be?…Sin?” He laughed again, shaking his head at his invisible companion. “What does sin really matter? This is a heaven without God….without…Hell. I never wan’ to leave it.”
There was a silence that fell over the room again, before he grunted and shifted, casting a dark look that tracked his ‘companion’s’ movements. “I do no’ care. I don’ care if all the blood in the world soaks into his damned linens.”
He paused again, before pushing himself up to his feet and glaring. His clothing hung on him, a blood strained undergarment tucked into unremarkable hose and breeches, all of it making him look so much smaller than he was. “I don’ have to speak with him! Let him kill me….” His eyes narrowed, head tilted toward the side carefully. “Hell…heh, you would think I deserved hell. I don’! I won’ go to hell! Lucifer himself can come for my soul, and I won’ let him have it.” His voice echoed in the silent room, the breeze pushing the curtains against the floor as he frowned.
And then as suddenly as his one-sided argument began, Percy became contrite, sliding down to the floor to sit unceremoniously. “I’m sorry, I didn’ mean to yell…” He apologized softly, looking at the carpet with a mixed expression. “I’m no’ angry with you…”
There was a moment in which he flinched and closed his eyes, nodding silently as he seemed to listen to someone intently. But then he was scrambling to his feet, an arm out stretched as he gaped pleadingly, “no! Please don’ leave. I won’ fight with him no more, just don’ leave…Don’ leave…”
I’m sorry…
Frowning, he turned back to the window, walking toward it with slow, heavy steps. The sounds of local whores filling the air as he leaned through the sill, trying to catch a glimpse someone that no one else could see.
“Why do you always leave me….” he murmured questioningly, “why can’ you just stay?”
What was heaven, utopia…if he were alone?
====
William Percy Hastings
OC
word count: 561