I did the October challenge over at Simhaven, so I’m counting it here, too.  :b  You can check it out by clicking here.

Title: Passion
Genre: Undefined
Characters: Melissande Blanc, Marcus Van Arden
Story Origin: Vignettes prior to Angel of Lies
Prompt: 013. Passion
Word Count: 1,456
Rating: R
Summary: Marcus does not play games.
Warnings: Sexual Content, Covered Sim Nudity

Walking into Melissande’s chambers was the equivalent of stepping blindly into a pit viper’s lair. She had a flair for the dramatic, red and black all over, complete with a reflective marble wall behind the bed. It was a bit overdone, but such was Melissande. Everything she did was over-the-top, including her style of dress. It hadn’t taken Marcus long to figure out that she had decorated the entire place and that Christian was rarely here. It was pretty much Melissande’s little circus, complete with half-naked women running around.

She laid on the bed, hand on her thigh, dressed in a slip of a dress. Her hair was longer than he remembered, but she was prone to wearing wigs and extensions at will. To any other male, she would have exuded sensuality. She was like a candle that burned too hot, too quickly. The men she had eventually grew tired of her and went on to their next conquest. Marcus had no intention of doing any such thing. She was a rare specimen of female vampire–completely and totally electric in her nature to the point where it shone from her pores. She could be nothing else but what she was and the power she held was more than she would ever know.

To use and abuse such beauty was wrong and incredibly ignorant.

“You wanted something?” Marcus said, his voice the very measure of calm and sedate calculation.

“There’s no reason to be guarded,” she said, smiling, her hand slowly traveling up her white leg, snagging on her dress and pulling it up a bit before it came to rest on her hip. “Relax. I just wanted to talk.”

Melissande didn’t talk and Marcus knew that fact well. He’d discovered her past from the bits she had told him, plus what her brother, and Christian had filled in. Melissande liked power, it was a drug, she was drawn to it almost as if she could draw it in through her skin. Perhaps her most important little foray was Eckhard Koenig. It was incredibly disappointing to hear. Marcus bore the same ancestral power as Eckhard, perhaps a bit more, but he certainly did not run around sleeping with everything and anything he could. He was always guarded, always observing. The old ways were strong in his mind.

Marcus watched as she slid off the bed, not at all careful of her modest coverage. She moved toward him, her face and her body leaving but a tiny inch between them. Her arms hung useless at her sides, but her eyes looked up at him through lashes, intent written all over those dark gray irises.

“I don’t like to play games, Marcus,” she said, her voice like a low melody in his ear. She truly didn’t know, that much was obvious to him now. He remained silent, letting her speak, “we both know what’s going on here. You’re avoiding me.”

Marcus found it difficult to talk and cursed himself for it. He was aware of it, but it still affected him, still moved through his veins like a careless drug. Her fingers touched the lapel of his jacket, moving down it in a slow and torturous motion. He did his best to ignore it and said:

“I have done no such thing.”

“I know when I’m being avoided,” Melissande said, turning and walking away.

He watched as she moved, each step she took graceful and sensual. They were perfected, she knew how her body moved, how it looked when she walked away. It was an intoxicating dance, the small dress moving up half an inch each time her leg moved against it, the curvature of her back revealed each time her long, black hair swayed with her motions.

“There’s no reason to avoid me,” her voice pulled him out of his reverie and once again forced him to focus. Focusing while trapped in a room with a veritable vampire siren was nigh impossible. There’s a reason he’d been distant. He had no intention of being another throw-away mark on her belt, but it seemed inevitable now. Her hands were moving under her hair, exposing her long, smooth back. He heard a slight click and watched in both horror and pleasure as the dress dropped, hanging at her hips.

She slipped out of it effortlessly, kicking it aside along with her shoes. She was naked from the waist up, her hair covering what little modesty she had left.

She didn’t walk towards him, what she did couldn’t be considered walking. It was predatory, like a large cat circling its fallen prey. He moved to speak only for her to silence him with a finger.

“Shh, there’s no need for talking. We’re both adults here,” Melissande purred. “I am well-versed in these sort of exchanges.”

Her finger slid down, taking his lower lip with it before pulling away. She pressed herself against him, her arms moving to his jacket, removing the single button. She was flame personified, burning hot even with layers of clothing between them. It was undeniable, this thing that she was, this power she had. For so long, it had gone unchecked. He wished he had the ability to stop it, but beneath his vampire exterior, he was still a man.

One who had slept for a very, very long time.

She undressed him with an alacrity that was uncommon, but her hands were skilled with such things. She was thankful he was the normal sort when it came to clothing–no unnecessary buckles or zippers. It disappeared almost as quickly as if it had never been there at all. Melissande felt her own self-satisfaction build at bringing yet another mighty ‘ancient’ vampire down to her level. She wasn’t sure what she gained, physically, from sleeping with them, only that she enjoyed it. Men were allowed to collect trophies, why not women, too?

The distance between them was closed in an instant. Melissande was a little caught off-guard. For being so hesitant to succumb at first, Marcus had stepped up and taken the reins. She didn’t mind, it was always fun when they switched it up on her. Sometimes she tired of being the aggressor.

She hadn’t expected him to feel so warm against her skin. It was almost unbearable, an incredible heat that seemed to increase with every kiss and movement of hands. Just as she felt she might faint, something brought her back. His lips were against her own, not kissing, but resting. His eyes were watching her carefully from behind a few stray hairs that had come loose from the rest. She felt strangely compelled to stare back, despite the closeness of their bodies and the urgency of the moment. It was almost as if everything had frozen entirely and nothing moved but their lips.

“I have no intention of using you, Melisssande,” he said, his voice unnatural. She felt a strange force move throughout her body, like ice in her veins. Despite the sensation, she couldn’t take her eyes away from his.

She found it difficult to speak, her voice sounding small and foreign to her own ears, “we’ll see about that.” It was stripped of its sensuality, of its allure. It sounded like any other voice, lost in the crowd. Melissande suddenly felt incredibly naked, her layers peeling away, her walls being forced down. Her fright willed her to move her arms, her legs, anything, but she could not.

“There is no need of your power here,” Marcus said, his voice unchanged. Everything he said her mind and body took as a command, but his inflection never changed. It was gentle and assuring, his hands still holding her against him gently. His final words before breaking eye contact were, “I also do not play games.”

He kissed her fully and intensely, Melissande’s control of her body returning. She felt vulnerable and exposed, her true nature laid out for all to see.

Okay, so we know Nicolas has some ability, but we’ve never really explored Melissande’s. It’s been there, all this time, but never obviously mentioned. So, you get a two-for-two deal. Marcus’ is up for vague intepretation, but it should be pretty obvious where Melissande’s skills lie… as if there were ever any doubt! This was also a desensitizing experiment as far as naked sims, writing about naked sims, and trying to imagine that sims can be sensual things. Still not working, I’d much rather write it without pictures, but I needed to do this for a scene later in Angel of Lies. There’s a few more Memorias to go and while it may seem like I’m rushing them, I’m not. I’ve had a creative burst and am taking advantage of it. Once these are out of the way, I can work on AoL!

Valerie came to, her body curled up in a ball, her head resting against her knees.  Her neck ached and her entire body felt as if it were disconnected from the neck down.  There was the distant sensation of floating, almost as if her limbs were no longer attached to her body.  She tried to focus on the press of the bed beneath her, trying to gather all her fractured thoughts and feelings.  It was moot.  She felt drunk, her head spinning, her functioning senses garbled and lost in translation.  If she could still see, she imagined that everything would be wobbly and distorted.

The distant crackle of a log rattled around in her head, increasing her agony.  She tried to tune it out, burying her head in her legs, gripping onto them as hard as she could with her hands.  Her fingers felt numb and tingly.

“Awake again?” Nicolas’ voice cut through the silence like a terrible knife.  She cringed, making a sound of pain.  Every move he made, even the distant flexing of his fingers, sounded as if it took place right next to her ear.  It was unbearable.  “You’ve been coming in and out of consciousness for over an hour now.”

Valerie wasn’t surprised that he was there.  It was almost routine now.  Christian would leave and Nicolas would be forced to stay with Valerie until she was coherent.  If she showed signs of declining health, he was to alert Melissande immediately.  No one was completely sure where Christian went during all of this, only that he left.  Nicolas didn’t particularly enjoy being left to pick up the pieces, but it was his on-going punishment for being such a prat years ago.

It was well-known that he did not agree with Christian’s blatant taking of Valerie, not at all.  He and Melissande were fervently against it, but their worries fell on deaf ears.  Valerie was adamant and Christian was silent, as always.

Valerie willed her limbs to move, the motion sluggish and inhuman.  One of her tingly legs dangled over the bed, her shoe hanging on by the toe.  She fiddled with the other, trying to work her numb and seemingly useless fingers to pull the other off.  She wanted to change, her clothing felt constricting–suffocating.  It burned against her skin.

Nicolas watched her carefully, the way she wobbled, the pained expression she wore.  Her face was ghostly white, dark circles forming under her violet eyes.  She looked like a doll left unattended for far too long.  Her attempts at removing her shoe looked more like her fingers mindlessly fumbling with the bed linens, and then finally, finding the shoe.  It wasn’t her blindness that hampered her, no… it was everything she’d lost.  Even a simple vampire could feel the tension in the air, the crying out of her soul as it pieced itself back together slowly.

“You shouldn’t be moving,” Nicolas warned her, even though he knew it was moot.  She would move, she would stand, and she would shout at him, despite it all.  That’s how it always panned out, anyway.

“Don’t you get tired of being here?” Valerie asked candidly, still messing with her frustrating shoe.  She faced him, but her vacant eyes stared past him.  It was a lazy motion, he did not feel the press of her own power against him.  She wasn’t actively looking at him, it was just a reaction.  She was facing the sound of his voice.

“Yes,” Nicolas replied, his voice short.  “Unfortunately, Christian seems completely committed to the idea that you need a nurse maid and so, here I am.  Hardly dignifying, which is completely its intent.”

“And you deserve it, you know,” she said, finally kicking off her shoe.  She teetered over the edge of the bed, landing on her foot, following with the other one.  She stood up, trying to orient herself.  “You could be dead.”

“It would be a better fate than watching you act like an idiot.”

Valerie turned her back to him.  Her hands moved through her hair, collecting it and gathering it at the base of her neck, exposing her clothed back.  A single, tiny zipper stood amidst all the fabric.  It was a taunting motion that required no words to accompany it.  Somewhere along the way, Valerie had developed a bit of a vengeful streak.  If her mother were truly the virtuous angel everyone made her out to be, then Valerie most assuredly did not take after her.  Not in the least.

His fingers gripped the small zipper, moving it down her back, watching as it slowly revealed the skin beneath.  It stopped just sort of the base of her spine.  He released it, waiting for her to make some sort of biting comment.  Instead, she remained silent.  She shed the clothing like a snake shades its skin, slowly and methodically, the fabric falling in a pool at her feet, the stalkings following suit.

Valerie had never been sheepish around Nicolas, but that had been a mix of ignorance and innocence before.  Now it was just plain cruelty.  Her malice towards him was not subtle.  She made sure he noticed every single thing she did to spite him.  It was annoying as hell.  She strode across the room, nearly naked, and said nothing.  The silence was deafening, suffocating.  His anger was growing with every passing second, filling the wordless air with tension.

If the Demon Queen and Sanctus Unus hadn’t messed with her, Valerie would be nearly thirty now.  She wasn’t a girl anymore and had completely shed that innocence that made her seem slow.  Now she was the Seer, empowered and stronger than most could fathom.  Perhaps worst of all, she wore the body of a young adult like some people wear clothes, all supple skin and untraveled curves.  She had very few scars, her pale skin hiding them as well as makeup might, but one stood out to him.

It marked her back, a thin line nearly three inches in length.  Her stomach had been the concentration point for Christian’s hands, and so the mark had sealed up entirely, but her back, the entrance wound, had been left to scar.  It was a glaring reminder of times long past.

“So, you’re just going to do it again,” Nicolas seethed, his anger at the boiling point.  “There won’t be anyone there to save you this time, Valerie.”

She froze where she stood, not quite expecting him to travel down that road.  Nicolas had played her emotions, used them against her and gained an advantage.  With that advantage, he’d sentenced her to death.  Christian had saved her.  After that, she never saw Nicolas the same way again.  In fact, she never thought she’d have to, as Christian made it pretty clear what he’d do to him.  Sanctus Unus had other plans, though, and Nicolas managed to avoid Christian’s wrath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, though her voice was quiet and strained.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Nicolas shot back, his voice becoming a low growl.  “Look at you!  You can barely function, hell, it’s a miracle you can stand… and to what end?  You can’t stop him, in fact, you’re probably making it worse!  What happens when you run dry?  What happens when you end up dead because of all of this?”

“I can handle it!”

Nicolas scoffed, “no you can’t.  Your strength wasn’t meant for this and you know it.  You’re abusing it, just like you’re abusing Christian’s trust.  You’re only doing this because it’s the only way he’ll see you and you’ll know it.  For fuck’s sake, Valerie, you’re not Beryl!  You can’t be.  Stop trying.”

Valerie’s shoulders began to shake and her knees felt weak.  His words hit her at her core, her body still suffering from the effects of the connection.  She fell forward, her hands connecting at just the right moment with the armoire.  She held herself up, her entire body wracked with tremors.  She panted, closing her eyes, trying to focus her will.

Nicolas moved to help her only to be met with a violent wave of energy.  It had cost her.  Her knees shook beneath her, threatening to give.  She held fast, digging her fingers into the wooden doors.

“Don’t touch me!” She spat, her weakened voice quaivering with strain.  “Get… out.  Just… get out.”

He took a step back, raising his hands up in retreat, “fine, have it your way.  I may have fucked up royally, but at least I can admit it.  What about you?  You know this is wrong, you know what you’re doing is ridiculous… how long are you going to keep it up?  How long before it’s not about helping Christian anymore?”

Valerie was silent, her vacant eyes filling with tears.

“Guess it’s a little too late, it’s already obviously about you,” with that the door slammed closed behind him, echoing in her sensitive ears.

As soon as he was gone, Valerie collapsed.  She leaned against the armoire, hugging herself tightly, trying to stop the tremors that shot through her.  Tears slipped down her cheeks unchecked and she felt as if the entire world had become hollow.  Nicolas’ words resonated through her head.

Just another one where we see why Nicolas and Valerie are the way they are with one another.  Nicolas, of course, has suitably paid his dues for what he’s done.  In fact, he’s even changed a little.  Nicolas will always be Nicolas, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel like ten tons of an ass for doing what he did.  Especially seeing how it changed her and made her suceptible to this.  Everyone blames Christian, but it isn’t his fault.  He doesn’t encourage her affections.  Mentioning Beryl is a pretty good way to make Valerie feel like crap.  Nicolas knows her buttons as well as she knows his.  It’s an interesting sort of dynamic.  Certainly not what I anticipated when I began writing Wings of Steel.

This didn’t turn out precisely as I had planned… but that’s probably for the best.  This messed up triangle of crazy (or is it a square?  I guess Beryl doesn’t count, in this case) is nutty enough without me adding anymore sexual tension to it.  Just remember folks, don’t throw a blind virgin into a pit of vipers.  It’s bad for business.

Title: Friends
Genre: Undefined
Characters: Christian Koenig, Valerie Vega, Melissande Blanc, Marcus Van Arden
Story Origin: Vignettes prior to Angel of Lies
Prompt: 008. Friends
Word Count: 1,890
Rating: R
Summary: Melissande is not okay.
Warnings: Language, Mild Implied Violence, Blood

Melissande stepped into the room, closing the doors behind her.  Her heels clicked against the stone floors, bouncing off the high walls and back into her own ears.  She cringed, stopping short of the bed.  She wasn’t surprised to see Christian there.  In fact, she’d come here specifically looking for him.  Valerie’s back faced her, the long, brown tresses catching the flickering candlelight and giving it a sheen.  Her movements were languid and Melissande could feel the strain in the air, prickling her skin down to her toes.  She resisted the urge to shudder and wore her attitude like a mask to hide her discomfort.

“What do you want?” Valerie’s voice was low, barely audible, and strained.  It sounded otherworldly–nothing like the soft, gentle tones that usually left her lips.

“Christian seems to have forgotten about our guest…”

At the mention of his name, Christian’s form stirred.  A candle came to life on the wall next to him, illuminating his features.  His eyes were covered, as always, with sunglasses and his skin seemed almost like marble–white and flawless, bouncing light like a reflective surface.  His voice in her head was like someone stabbing her with a knife in the temple.

‘I’m a little busy at the moment.’

Melissande said nothing to that, preferring to ignore it rather than confront it.  Instead, she shot back with, “well, what the hell am I supposed to do with him?”

At this, Christian’s lips quirked into an almost cruel smile.  Melissande shuddered, the image that the face put in her mind one she didn’t want to remember.  She cast it aside, fearing he would read it in her mind as he spoke to her.

‘I’m sure you can think of something…’

“Oh fuck you, Christian Koenig!” She snarled, arms crossed over her chest, her breathing strained.  She took a few steps back.  “I’m not your whore for hire!”

‘You said it, not me,’ Christian replied, still smirking.  It faded quickly and his face was once again an impassive mask.  ‘Just keep him occupied a while longer.  There’s nothing I can do about it now.’

“He’s not going to be happy, you know.  I don’t even see why it matters… another egotistical vampire, what good is he to us?”

‘This is why I do the thinking.  Just keep him entertained.’

His hand moved to Valerie’s head, gently guiding her down against the bed.  She followed like a wraith in a swoon, her body moving almost as if it had no bones within it at all, like liquid flowing gently against the bed, head resting on Christian, legs splayed awkwardly towards Melissande.  She turned away, unable to watch.  Valerie wasn’t there, gone completely.  She’d be out for awhile after this, and it would be some time before Marcus truly got to speak to Christian.  Melissande sighed, trying to repress her urge to shudder, fear building at the base of her spine.

“This isn’t my job, you know.  To entertain your toys.”

‘I know.’

“Well, as long as we’re in agreement,” Melissande grumbled, shaking her head.  She tried to keep her eyes off Valerie, but constantly, she was drawn back.  The Seer’s face was not twisted in pain or agony, completely complacent, eyes partially closed, mouth slack, her skin a glistening, pale white.  Her left hand twitched, the fingers curling up to form a very loose fist before unraveling again, falling motionless.

‘You should go.’

Melissande nodded dumbly, her head muddled.  Her brain felt as if it had turned completely to moosh and begun oozing out her ears.  She needed to leave, the need to leave overpowered her, forced her legs into motion.  She turned away and left, shaking it off.  The farther away she got, the better, the less it affected her.  The door closed behind her, the sound echoing through the small room.

Christian watched her leave.  Almost as soon as the door closed behind her, Valerie’s right hand moved to life, though its motions were languid at best.  Slowly, it moved to brush against the hand that now rested on her chin.  He felt the distant touch of her consciousness and before he could warn it away, she said:

‘Don’t feel guilty.  I allowed this.’

And then it was gone almost as quickly as it had come, leaving its own, soft imprint on his mind.  It was like a cool breeze on a hot summer day.  Once she was once again safe, Christian relaxed back against the bed, his hand falling lax against her neck.  Her skin was clammy to the touch, sweat beading on her forehead.  Bits and pieces of her soul were funneled out and into the air, directly into Christian, absorbed like one breathes air.  He felt his own soul putting the pieces together, absorbing them whole.  At this point, his own soul was like a patchwork quilt of many.

When Valerie had first offered herself, Christian had vehemently told her no.  But she had wore him down, demanding to know the difference from purposely taking and accidentally taking.  Every time their consciousnesses assembled, something was stolen, her soul was fractured, forced to fissure itself back together again.  Valerie was adamant, completely determined  to everything she could to slow the process and make it certain that Christian could be around others.

And that was how it came to be.  Christian remained linked to Valerie constantly, forcing her to bear the brunt of his own burden.  She shouldered it and carried as if it were but a tiny feather, the strength of her soul and mind seemingly endless.  He knew better, though.  She was wearing down, becoming weakened.  Her power had improved over the years, but she hadn’t been meant for this.  She wasn’t meant to fall as far as he had.

Nothing could be done to stop it.  The wheels had been put into motion.  Her energy was unlike most, it was touched with the very essence of everything, cognizant of everything around it, entwined with the world in ways others would never know or could ever fathom.  There was no way the thing within him would ever give it up.  Christian feared he would be helpless to stop it before it was too late.

Melissande tried to shake off her discomfort.  She had never agreed with what Valerie did nor did she understand why Christian allowed her to do it.  She felt, in the very back of her mind, that maybe he was taking advantage of her affections.  It made her angry.

She attempted to focus on the task at hand, her dark eyes falling on Marcus who sat patiently, waiting.  He looked up at Melissande and offered her a small smile as she approached.

“Any news?”

“Unfortunately, he’s a little… preoccupied at the moment.  It will be some time until he’s ready to see you,” Melissande said, trying not to shiver.

Marcus noticed her discomfort, the pieces slowly assembling in his mind.  It was a difficult thing to fathom, what Christian was, what his nature was.  The stories he had heard were the opposite–that he had been rebuilt, reborn even, in Sanctus Unus’ image.  So why then this darkness?  Should he not be ascended past such things?

He barely noticed when Melissande sat down beside him, resting her arm against the couch, “you’re probably wondering what’s up with this, huh?  I know Christian told you he’s scary and you should believe him.  He is.”

“I don’t claim to be a scholar on the subject, but I thought that Sanctus Unus was ‘good’.  Why then, such a fate for this chosen one?”

At this, Melissande laughed.  It was pretty and delicate.  “You really are a vampire, aren’t you?  I only know because I was ‘lucky’ enough to deal with the thing myself.  Sanctus Unus is neutrality at its finest, Marcus.  You can’t be the world and take sides.  That’s not how it works.”

“I suppose that makes the most sense, but it seems cruel, doesn’t it?  To damn someone so?”

“Not if you know Christian,” she continued.  “He’s got a whole lifetime of getting fucked up the ass.  You’ve heard of Eckhard, Xavier… Beryl Cross?”

He shook his head, “I’m afraid none of these names but Eckhard’s are familiar to me.  I know a little of Eckhard’s tortures, though.”

“You might want to get comfortable… this could take awhile…”

By the end of it, one of Melissande’s vampires had come along with a tray of blood and Melissande was sprawled on the couch, considerably saddened.  It was hard to recount everything that had happened, it seemed like a lifetime ago when it was only just years.  It made everything that much more real… and the consequences seemed so close she could almost taste them.

“Why agree to it, then?” Marcus asked, still a little shocked by the story.  He truly had been clueless and he felt all the more a fool for it.  “It seems foolish to lay down your life for nothing.”

Melissande swirled her glass a bit, too distracted to drink.  She stared up at the far away ceiling, “because there isn’t a choice.  That’s the thing, choices aren’t really choices.  They are a lie, kind of.  You’re born for a purpose, you can say no, but that purpose doesn’t go away.  It doesn’t just disappear.  You can’t turn your back on who you are, who you were born to be.  So, the ‘choice’ you have is just a mirage, a fake.  In the end, there is no choice.”

“I suppose we can consider ourselves lucky, then… that we were left to our own devices in the grand scheme of things,” Marcus replied, his voice somber.

“Lucky, yes,” Melissande said, closing her eyes.  Her chest felt tight.  She thought of her brother, her fingers clutching the glass tighter, shaking slightly.  “But what is luck when you are surrounded by people who haven’t been ignored?  What good is it to be lucky when you must watch everyone else suffer and plod along a pre-determined path… helpless to do anything but watch.”

“I had forgotten, I’m sorry,” Marcus apologized suddenly, realizing his error.  Melissande truly was surrounded by the hands of fate, untouched by it herself, but forced to watch everyone around her bend and twist to its will.

“Me, too,” she said, biting her lower lip.  “I hate being helpless.”

This may seem like it was everywhere, but I really wanted to focus on Melissande’s own thoughts about everything, since her opinion is largely ignored in the main storyline.  She is the only one who wasn’t born to a purpose.  Sure, Sanctus Unus used her during Wings of Steel, but she hadn’t been born for that, it was simply convenient.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to watch, completely helpless, while people die following their life’s purpose, forced to bend to the will of the greater good/purpose.

The first scene didn’t go as I had planned, mostly because my creativity is like, only half present.  So everything is half-assed.  Sorry about that.  I had grand ideals, but am unable to execute them to the best of my ability at this particular moment.  But now we see how Valerie came to be as she is (when we seen her in AoL) and her closeness with Christian and the situation itself.

Title: Sixth Sense
Genre: Undefined
Characters: Marcus Van Arden, Valerie Vega, Melissande Blanc, Christian Koenig
Story Origin: Vignettes prior to Angel of Lies
Prompt: 035. Sixth Sense
Word Count: 1,660
Rating: PG
Summary: Marcus finds his way.
Warnings: None

Marcus felt a bit like he was in a daze.  He looked around and took in his surroundings, the gilded, reflective walls and the sparse decoration all very misleading.  It certainly didn’t resemble any of the vampire strongholds he was accustomed to.  Had things truly changed so much since he’d slept?  It seemed moot to make an appearance now, but the murmurs of a Soul Taker was enough to bring him out.  Ones as old as Marcus found little interesting anymore, especially given how the vampire bloodlines dwindled and gave way to mortal fancy.

He spent a great bit of time tracking down this supposed Soul Taker.  Supposedly, he was here, hidden amidst all the candles and finery.  Marcus found that a little troubling.  As he was guided through the maze-like corridors by a young female vampire, he couldn’t help but notice all the… strange sights.  Most, if not all, the occupants seemed to be primarily female.  The entire place had a very feminine feel about it.  There was a woman’s distinct presence lurking around every corner, in every perfectly hung painting and carefully chosen furniture.

Suddenly, the door on the wall before him creaked open, revealing yet another female.  She was definitely vampire and not the mortal-turned-nightstalker kind.  She was pure blooded, electric vampire–the energy in the room shifted around her, evidence of her blood lineage.  She looked at him from behind full lashes, a bored expression on her face.  She moved at a sluggish pace, her considerable heels clicking against the stone flooring.

Marcus found himself a bit taken back by this, the fact that his kind still existed amongst the muddled masses.  He had heard of a massive culling of vampires, but assuming the worst, thought it had been his kind.  It seemed he was very wrong.

She stopped in front of him, slender hand on her hip, her gray eyes meeting his for a brief second.  She said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.

“You’re a blood vampire… which family?”

Her dark eyebrows rose, visibly intrigued, “Blanc.  Melissande Blanc.  My brother and I are the last of our kin.”

“I see you’ve broken free of the cult.”

Melissande’s eyes darkened, and she chose to ignore his comment completely, “you’ve come to see Christian?”

“Eckhard’s son, yes?  I hear he’s… undergone some changes.”

“If you mean to say he is no longer vampire, you are correct.  Anything else you can talk about with him.  I’m just here to ensure you are who you say you are.” She peered at him, pursing her full lips together.  “You can’t just waltz in here and expect to speak to Christian directly.  That’s not how it works.”

“Of course not,” Marcus replied, though there was amusement in his voice.  “I assume you’re not the Seer, then.”

She laughed, “she wishes.  No, she will be coming shortly.  Be patient.”

“I’ve been through quite a lot and so far, for nothing.  I’m growing tired of the games.”

Melissande gave him a look, walking past and taking a seat on the couch, “and we’ve only just begun.  Be patient.  You’ve been alive for centuries… I’m sure you can wait a few moments longer.”

“I understand the need for precaution, but I am not exactly a plebian vampire.  I’ve sought him out of my own free will, I don’t enjoy being treated like a toy.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” a third voice sounded from the door.  A young woman walked out, startling Marcus.  Her dark blue eyes were vacant, but moved about the room all the same, almost as if they could actually picture the surroundings.  “This is all necessary.”

As she drew nearer, Marcus nearly sputtered.  She was young, too young.  She looked like a mere child in woman’s clothes, her cherubic face and girlish ponytail doing nothing to take away from the image.  She wasn’t dressed provocatively liked the other females he’d seen, in fact, her pants didn’t even seem as if they were fit for a female’s form.  They were rolled up and bunched, made into makeshift capris.

It was the final straw, the last mockery he would tolerate.

“Is this a joke?” Marcus growled, his voice low and deep, brimming with anger.  “Now you send in a blind child?  This is ridiculous!”

Valerie had been doing her best to contain her energy, but at his comment, she burst at the seams.  Marcus was overwhelmed by the seemingly endless wave that pounded against him.  The nearer she drew, the worse it was.  He backed up, giving her a strange look.  This was no child, this was something else entirely.

He had failed to notice the tension that followed her as she entered the room, the telltale signs on her face, in those vacant eyes.  She moved with confidence, despite her small stature, each footstep fueled by power.  She looked around because while she could not see like everyone else, she could see what moved beneath the superficial surfaces, past the everyday trees and grass to what laid beyond.

“A child?” Valerie’s voice boomed, considerably stronger than when she had first spoke, backed by preternatural power that caused it to vibrate.  “I am the Seer, vampire and I will have the respect that you would show any superior being.  You may be old, but I have shared the consciousness of all and am privy to secrets no mortal mind should ever have to comprehend.  I will not tolerate being referred to as a child–by anyone, or anything!“

Marcus was considerably humbled, but it did little to soften his already soured mood.  The Seer.  They had baited him almost as surely as a fisherman bates his hook for the catch of the day.  He’d tumbled into the trap completely, without even bothering to see all the warning signs.  The Seer’s energy was permeable now, building around him, paralyzing him.  It was dizzying.

“I apologize, Seer, I did not realize.  It’s… been a long time that I’ve been absent.”

Valerie turned away and with that motion, the energy around him disappeared suddenly.  A great weight lifted off of him and he closed his eyes, his body trembling from the aftermath of it all.  There was something else in that energy, something wrong.  It was with that single realization that he noticed what he’d missed all along.

There were four people in the room, not three.  His eyes moved to the side of the Seer and he saw it, a faint disparity in the air.  He felt the slight pressure of it, of the energy it concealed.  It wasn’t the Seer… this was different.

Suddenly, he felt his mind’s walls fall as if a great wind had blown them all over.  A voice sounded in his head, its very nature intrusive and extremely strong:

‘That’s enough.’

Valerie turned completely as the shape formed, much taller than her, much broader, too.  It revealed itself in a slow, agonizing motion that Marcus was forced to watch, the hairs all over his body standing on end.  The energy came out of hiding, filling the room with an invisible fog.  It made Marcus feel weakened somehow, almost as if every movement, even blinking, were sluggish.

“What are you doing?” Valerie snapped, her voice resuming its normal pitch.  “This is not–”

Again, the voice sounded, like a psychic broadcast in all of their minds, ‘He figured it out.  The ruse is up.’

Marcus felt like a fool.  For all his years, for all his time on this earth, he had nearly missed it entirely, too caught up in Valerie’s appearance.  Christian had been there all along, right beside her, hidden from him but privy to everything in the room.  He had nearly failed and if so, he feared to know what the consequence would have been…

“This isn’t safe, Christian,” Valerie warned her counterpart, completely unnerved now.  This was not the plan, not at all.  “What if he’s…”

‘It was a test and he saw through it.  I will speak to him.’ Christian’s shielded eyes moved to Melissande and without another word, she left the room.  Valerie lingered behind, unmoving.  ‘Valerie…’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said forcefully, resorting to Christian’s form of communicating.  Both their voices rattled around in Marcus’ brain like a jackhammer.  His apitude was hardly magic of the mind.

Christian sighed, though his body showed no signs of wearied emotion.  Instead, he faced Marcus completely and focused his voice on his mind and his alone:

‘I am not a legend, I am not a fable… I am real and I am dangerous.  Being in this room with me could cost you your life.  Because of this, this will be my last direct communication with you.  Anything further will be channeled through Valerie.  Speak to her as if it were me, for everything she hears, so do I.  This is a safety measure, not a game.  You can feel it now, surely, and the longer this goes on, the worse it will get.  Now, speak, Vampire.  And do so quickly.  It’s been a long day…’

Marcus felt the connection fade, his entire body reeling from the impact of it.  It was true, what Christian had said, he could feel it.  Pieces of him were missing… tiniest bits, but gone, nonetheless.  He looked at the young Seer and then to Christian.  Suddenly, he felt it, the great weight, the huge burden.  Valerie as a mouthpiece.  The Seer bore the entirety of his burden almost as wholly as if it were her own.  She was the single thing that protected everyone else from him, including himself.

He suddenly regretted his brash words against her.

So, now we know where Marcus came from.  There’s a bit more to it and that’ll be in later Memorias.  I have a few planned during my break, hopefully to stir my creativity back into action, so keep checking back.  Sorry this one is kind of crappy, my computer crashed in the middle and Ijust didn’t want to deal with it anymore, lol.

Title: Choice
Genre: Undefined
Characters: Valerie Vega, Nicolas Blanc, Christian Koenig
Story Origin: Vignettes prior to Angel of Lies
Prompt: 006. Choice
Word Count: 1,496
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Valerie forsakes her duty.
Warnings: Mild Violence, Language

Valerie felt the distant pull of something unknown, coaxing her awake.  At first, she was startled by the endless darkness despite the fact that she felt her eyes open, but she quickly remembered that she was blind.  Her second sight was no longer functioning, having been nearly torn out of her.  If she concentrated, she could see her soul and the bright, glowing fissures that lined through it like cracks.  She’d been shattered like a vase, forced into a sleep to try and recoup.  There were gaps where pieces were missing, where she would be forever empty.

Fumbling with her awkward and limp limbs, Valerie managed to slide to the side of the bed.  She realized suddenly that she wasn’t alone, her ears picking up the distinct crackle of fire and very faint hum of an other’s unchecked energy.  At first, her stomach flopped and she thought of Christian, but a violent play of images and the imprint of his hand on her arm were quick to quiet such thoughts.

No, it was Nicolas.  She knew that immediately after her arm ceased to throb.  It was a worrying realization.  It meant that Christian was gone, possibly still crazed and empowered by his own rage and grief.  How long had she been out?  She had to find him and stop him.

“You shouldn’t be standing,” Nicolas said, his accent heavy, marring the words.  He sounded bored.  “You’re supposed to be resting.”

Valerie was not in the mood to deal with him.  She was too troubled by the fact that Christian had left her behind.  They’d traveled together, scarcely ever separated, for twelve years.  There was a reason for that… Christian wasn’t quite in control of himself without Valerie’s constant and ever-present tether set in his mind.  The parting of their energies was a painful loss to her, the constant drumming in the back of her ear no longer there and instead replaced with a mild headache.

She hadn’t realized she was walking forward and found herself stumbling.  Nicolas was quick to catch her, but she shook him off violently, turning her back to him.  She heard him draw a long, deep breath.

“Christian wants you to stay here, Valerie,” Nicolas’ tone was laced with caution.  “It’s too dangerous… you nearly died.”

“And you’ve come to finish the job?” Valerie’s voice was like venom, causing him to recoil in surprise.  “I’ve seen death, Nicolas.  True death and I am unafraid.  I won’t let you stop me, not again.  You won’t stand in my way.”

“Valerie…”

She spun around, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling him forward.  Her vacant eyes stared forward, drawing him into a one-sided gaze.  He felt her energy winding around him like icy tendrils, creeping up his arms, his legs.  It was a painful sensation, like a thousand tiny needle pricks, all at once.

“You will not stop me,” Valerie snarled, sounding less like herself and more like her late father with every passing moment.  He felt her grip on him tighten, her energy awakening with every passing second.  She wasn’t healed, but she didn’t need to be.  Her power had grown considerably over the years of forced survival.  “If I have to die, then so be it, but I will not allow him to run around unchecked.  Especially not now.”

“Evangeline is gone.  He can’t take it.  He’s gone stark raving mad and you want to run to him?  Do you realize what he did to you?  Even I can see the damage!”

Valerie’s lip quirked a bit, “he’s been doing it for years, Nicolas.  I made my choice a long time ago.”

Before he could reply, Nicolas was swept off his feet.  He felt a push of air beneath him, hurtling him towards the ceiling.  He was jerked to a stop before colliding with it, his startled eyes staring down at Valerie.  The motion hardly strained her, arm extended, her face a play of mocking intent.

“It’s got you, too,” Nicolas croaked out, his voice strained by the endless waves of energy that pushed against him.  “Goddamn it, Valerie, do you know what you’re doing?”

“You can’t stop me, Nicolas.  I’ll find him.”

“This is fucking mad,” Nicolas hissed, glaring down at the formerly young and meek Seer.  Both those traits were gone and replaced with a sheer determination of will and an apparent desire to chase death’s coat tails.  “That taint is going to kill us all.  Is this what your damn Sanctus Unus wanted so badly?  Look at you!”

“Bad choice of words,” Valerie warned before thrusting him backwards.

She caught him just in time again, pulling him back, her fingers twitching from the strain.  She was still too weakened for such feats of power.  She needed to conserve what little energy she had for when she found Christian.  With a slight motion of her wrist and the pulling back of her arm, Nicolas crashed unceremoniously to the floor in a heap.

“Evangeline is alive… and I’m the only one who can find her,” she said, moving towards the door.  “I won’t let it end like this.  I won’t stand idly by again and let this happen.”

Valerie stepped out into the night, the heavy air and thick scent of pine needles an immediate shock to her senses.  There was a light rain, most of it catching on the thick canopy of trees, tiny droplets finding their way down to the earth.  Her legs propelled her forward and her mind’s eye returned, its vision tunneled and focused on a single strand glowing brightly amidst all the others.  She didn’t have the energy to expend, but she didn’t have the time to slowly find him, either.  She concentrated, dropping into a trance amidst the run, her own speed picking up considerably.  The world blurred around her, sound and smell all but ceasing.  She felt as if she was wading through mud, though knew she was moving at a pace too much for the energies around her to handle.  She felt them rend before her and felt a pang of guilt, but did not stop.

She had picked up a few tricks during her time with Evangeline.

She truly had no idea how long she had ran, only that when she stopped, there he was, facing her.  Had he known she was coming?  She felt everything catch up to her, the blurs becoming solidified outlines of varying energies.  The fissures within her threatened to unravel at the sheer weight of what she’d done, what she faced, and it was everything she could do to hold them in tact.  Christian had indeed gone mad in her time of absence, his aura like a heavy, obnoxious weight on her body.  She could feel him from here, his oppressive force backed by the freshly taken souls of others.  How many?  She couldn’t estimate, her own mind too frazzled to concentrate.

“You have to stop,” Valerie’s voice broke through the silence.  “You can’t keep doing this.  It won’t kill you, Christian.  Don’t you get it?  It just makes you stronger.  A bigger target.”

He didn’t say anything, nor did his mind seek hers for a reply.  He simply stared at her, standing amidst the tall trees, looking much like one himself.

Valerie approached him, her feet sliding against the wet hill.  When she finally made it up to him she felt as if she might collapse.  The burden was too much, too heavy.  What he was becoming was even causing the world around him to recoil and rend itself.

“She’s alive,” Valerie said once she was standing fully before him.  “Evangeline is alive…”

His hand gripped her suddenly, an intense pressure that nearly threatened to turn the bones in her arm to powder.  She didn’t flinch or pull away, but faced him as best she could and said it again, despite her mind’s warning to remain silent.

‘She’s alive.’

His sudden release of her arm caused her to stumble forward.  She embraced him awkwardly and fully, her legs following suit, toes digging through the wet earth as she slid forward.  Tears found their way down her cheeks, her guilt and the weight of her duty too much to bear any longer.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was muffled by his coat.  “I’m so sorry.”

This was originally intended for the June monthly prompt over at simhaven. I remember telling goodbye_sun a long time ago I’d try one sometime.  Unfortunately, I fail at word limits, so I retooled it and just put it here.  Ah well, I tried!    I’m not completely happy with this, but given how gimped my creativity is lately, it’s the best I can do.  Sigh.  It’s vague and whatever because it’s supposed to be.  I’m sure you’re used to it by now with these.  Also, the fifth picture down (the one with Nicolas and Valerie facing off) is one of my favorite pictures of Valerie ever.  It just represents her so well.

Christian sat undeterred by the rain.  His thoughts were numerous, all equally dark and foreboding.  The rain wouldn’t keep his mind from its consistent workings.  Too much had happened, too much was now at stake for him to fall victim to something so trivial as becoming drenched.  It was one of the few moments where he was allowed solitude, a moment of ‘peace’ from others… but there was never anywhere to hide from himself.

Even now he felt it, much like an oppressive shadow, it was always with him, always threatening to overtake him.  It hadn’t gotten any better over the years… in fact, it had gotten much worse.

He felt her before he acknowledged her.  Her energy was like a warm fire, though its scalding touch was not one Christian welcomed on his own psyche.  She stood waiting for him to look at her, to regard her, or even perhaps to speak.  He did nothing, ignoring her, wondering how long she’d stand there in the rain before becoming frustrated with his disinterest.  He remembered her.  Ussot was never very patient.  Finally, she spoke.

“It seems foolish to sit in the rain,” her voice was like the melodic chords of a harp, but too perfect, too correctly pitched to be beautiful.  He ignored the influence in those words, the warmth that spread around his walls, trying to force them down.

‘What do you want?’ It was a subtle notion, a light brush of his mind against hers.  It startled her, but she recovered quickly.

Her eyes were like liquid fire, her hair becoming wet and tangled against her shoulders.  Her gaze pinned him down effortlessly and he felt the relentless battering of her influence against his own.  It was hot and scalding, a hiss of reaction sounding with every slight meeting of their energies.

She smiled prettily, her petite face the very vision of an angel’s, “the better question is what is it that you desire, Christian?”

‘A loaded question if there ever was one,’ he remarked, moving to his feet, ignoring the protests of his tired limbs, his soaked through clothing.  ‘You should be afraid.’

“Afraid?” She paused, considering it a moment.  “I think not.  I have nothing to fear from you, Christian.  In fact, I think I have much to offer.  You know why I’ve come.”

‘Do I?  You assume a lot,’ Christian’s thoughts were a powerful vibration against her mind.  He’d grown stronger.  It was all she could do to keep herself steady and he knew it.  ‘You are stupid if you think I don’t know my own power anymore.  I do.  Moreso than I ever wanted to, I’d say.’

Ussot closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to chuckle at his response, “It is silly to deny me, Christian.  We both want the same things.”

‘Good.  Now go away.’

“It’s so easy to be distant and frightening from that lofty perch you’ve placed yourself on, isn’t it?  Lonely, though, I would imagine.  How long are you going to mourn the dead?  How long are you going to allow past mistakes, past misfortunes to cloud your judgment?”

‘The only thing clouding my judgment right now is that pungent stench you call allure.  Stop, Ussot.  You know it won’t work on me.  It never has.’

“Oh, you speak such big words!  But even now, your thoughts say something different.  There is a hunger there.”

“Why don’t you come down here and tell me to leave?  Perhaps I shall do so.  Perhaps, then, I will listen…”

She said this while pursing her lips and looking at him through hooded eyes.  She was soaked now, the white dress she wore clinging to her body like a glove, the bits of cloth doing nothing to preserve her modesty.  That would require that she had some to begin with.  Ussot was a pretty as a porcelain statue, with curves in all the right places, and a mane of red, red hair.  Unfortunately, perfection was never something Christian put much stock in.

Perfection was a lie.

He stood before her, his height easily making her seem much smaller than she truly was.  Few of those who called themselves children of Sanctus Unus were ’small’.  By human standards, they were easily six feet, perhaps more, with lithe frames and beautiful faces.  Christian had been remade in that image, though he would hardly call his current face lovely.

Ussot played with the necklace conveniently dangling between her breasts, trying to draw his attention.  She was going about it all the wrong way, her aura too overbearing, her eyes too intent.  He could see through her like tissue paper and it was hardly appealing.

‘Now go away,’ Christian’s sudden thought startled her, but it didn’t show on her face.

Of course, Ussot did not listen.  Instead, she moved closer, her hand moving down the length of his arm and her soaked, cold body moving up against his own.  She moved with grace, he would give her that, every motion fluid and with the possibility of sensuality.  But something else in him stirred at the constant brush of her aura against his own.  His muscles tensed and Ussot took it as a sign.

“I do not know why you deny yourself.  We could help you, Christian.  You are so badly hurt, so terribly wounded…” Her words seemed distant, her voice like a whisper in his ear.  His guard dropped, her energy overcoming him like a white hot wave.  He tensed further, his posture becoming rigid as he teetered on the edge.  “You need only let go.  We can fix what’s been broken…”

She rested against his shoulder, allowing her wet hair to press against his own soaked shirt.  She smelled like a dozen flowers and other pretty, precious things.  None of which particularly appealed to Christian’s nose.  Her body was warm beneath the cold dampness of her clothes, but it was a shallow warmth, a warmth that lasted moments instead of forever.

‘I am done being used,’ he managed, though the thought was broken and didn’t hold the same power as previous intrusions.

Ussot felt that finally, she was wearing down his guard.  She let her hand rest on his chest a moment before peeling herself off.

“Used is such a dirty term…”

‘It is what it is.’

Christian turned away, tried to rebuild his walls, tried to block her out.  His fists clenched at his sides, darkness lined his vision.  He could feel it welling up inside him, growing by the minute, feeding on the scant bits of Ussot’s energy that remained within him.  Ussot could feel it, too, and pulled back suddenly.  It was too late.

As soon as she tried to flee, it leapt out like a predator hiding in the bush near its prey.  She let out a tiny scream.

Christian’s grip was like a vice and try as she might, she could not wrest herself free.  It wasn’t so much that he had her by the throat.  It was the darkness she felt pushing against her own barriers.  It pushed like a battering ram, tasting and feeding on the bits of shrapnel that came loose with every thrust.  Her vision blurred as she felt a tiny crack form, some of her energy seeping out only to be consumed whole.  Her body felt cold, a cold that isn’t associated with temperature or discomfort… a cold that burns your soul.

‘I told you to be afraid.’

She hadn’t believed it until she felt it consuming her, stealing away her very life’s essence from her body.  A tiny squeak left her lips as she struggled.  Her strength was fading fast, a panic rising up from within her.  She would die.  He would take her completely and she would die.

As if battling with himself, Christian gnashed his teeth, a small growl leaving his throat.  Ussot barely noticed, too swept up in her own agony.  She tried to fight it, to push it back, but it came faster and harder with every move she made.  It fed off her despair, her emotions, everything.  She couldn’t hide from it.  She was terrified.

Fallen.  Truly in every sense of the word.  Turned.  What had happened here?  It felt so very wrong, so very twisted her soul cried out with such a sound that it made the wind pick up, blowing rain and leaves all over.

Suddenly, Christian released her.  She was thrust violently against the column, landing harshly against the wet ground.  He shook for a moment, trying to regain his composure, muscles tensing throughout his body.  Adrenaline surged in them both, fueling their auras, making them both an equally unbearable weight on their minds.  Ussot all but collapsed, her head spinning, her soul crying out in terror.  Pieces were missing, fragments of her very being consumed whole and lost forever.

Christian walked away from her, boots silent against the ground.  ‘Tell Laszael not to send anyone else. I don’t wish to find out what happens when I absorb one of your kind completely.’

Ussot said nothing, his thought, the very touch of his energy like some vile, slimy essence she would never be clean of.  What had they done?  What had Sanctus Unus created?

I know I’m on break, but I got bored.  What happened here is mentioned in AoL in the next Phase, so now you will go “ahh so that’s what they meant!”    A little heads up and a glimpse at what Christian was on the road to becoming… or has become, perhaps.  It’s hard to say.  We haven’t seen current Christian yet.

Valerie stood, feeling the hot sun on her back and the sand beneath her bare feet.  They’d been running for days after a run-in with some ‘unfortunate’ people.  Sesana bore a scar on her cheek now and Christian’s soul continued to be consumed with a hunger he couldn’t sate.  Valerie was happy to just be standing still.  She didn’t join Christian and Evangeline near the ocean’s edge, instead opting to look from afar.  She couldn’t see them with her eyes, but her other senses painted a pretty good picture of what transpired.  She barely heard Sesana come up from behind.

“I don’t think Sanctus Unus intended for you to use the other sight for that particular purpose, Valerie.”

Valerie felt her chest tighten and her face grow hot with embarassment.  She wasn’t even sure why she felt embarassed.  She hadn’t been doing anything wrong.  She was keeping an eye on Evangeline, that was all.  That was her purpose, to protect the child vessel of Sanctus Unus.

“I-I wasn’t–”

Sesana grinned, taking a deep breath, “I love the smell of the ocean, don’t you?  Don’t care much for the salt, though.  I was only kidding, Valerie.  Don’t look so mortified.”

“I was keeping an eye on Evangeline… er, figuratively, of course.”

“I think she’s fine and that you can relax a little.  I don’t think Christian would let anything happen to her.”

“He rough houses with her too much,” Valerie sighed.  “She’s a little girl, not a pull toy.”

“She loves it,” Sesana assured her, smiling.  She watched as Christian lifted Evangeline into the air, her feet dangling above the sand.  She couldn’t hear him speak, but from the giggle that erupted from Evangeline and the girlish squeal, he was likely threatening to throw her in.  “I’m sure your father did the same to you.  Men show their love this way, I think.  Not with cuddles or hugs, but with tomfoolery and tickles.”

“He used to throw me in the air,” Valerie said after a quiet moment.  Her voice grew quiet.  “That was before my mother died…”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Sesana said, acknowledging Valerie’s hurt.  She tried a different approach, a more direct one, “you shouldn’t feel guilty, Valerie.”

“I… I don’t!”

“You do.  You can hide it from everyone, but not from me.  I’m too old and I have too much knowledge for that to work.  It also helps that I have some experience here, with unrequited love.  It isn’t easy.”

Valerie was a little startled, “I… I don’t understand…”

Sesana sighed, “Christian’s father, Valerie.  Eckhard.”

“It’s silly, really, when I think about it now.  It had nothing to do with the charisma or the sleezy way he gets into your head.  I just… loved him.  I don’t know why.  Even after I heard about what he’d done to Christian, it remained.  I hated him, too.  Hate and love.  Sometimes I think they go hand-in-hand.”

“B-But… everything he’s done…”

“Yes, I know.  And Abigail.  It’s different than Christian.  Abigail died and she chose your father, always.  There was never any question about that.  Eckhard only wanted what he knew he would never have.  He’s not one to allow someone to deny him what he feels is ‘rightfully’ his.” Sesana took a deep breath, watching her son and granddaughter on the beach.  They’d stopped horsing around and now Christian was sitting while Evangeline played in the water.  “Love makes us stupid and blind.  But lust and greed, those are much worse.”

“He helped me.”

“Only because you are the only thing that remains of Abigail.  The daughter that could have possibly been his.  But you’re too much like Antony.  He couldn’t take it.”

“I feel so horrible, Sesana.  I don’t just feel guilty, I feel… evil.  Like I’m keeping some terrible secret from him.  What if he finds out?  He’ll know that I knew…”

Sesana shook her head, placing her hand on Valerie’s arm, “no, there’s nothing you can do about that, Valerie.  You’re the Seer.  It’s your job to know and keep secrets that could possibly put someone in harm’s way.  What good would it be to tell him?  Beryl Cross is dead.”

“But she’s–”

“No,” Sesana said firmly, “I know how it works, Valerie.  The woman my son loved is dead.  What remains of her lies in Evangeline… and in my son’s memories.  He’ll never let her go.  When she died, she took everything he had with her.  They’re twisted, entwined in a way that no one can sever.  He suffers now because of it.  She has become something beyond mortal understanding, that breaks the limitations of our own perception.  He can’t understand it.”

“But… she’s still around.  She knows.  I feel horrible.”

“It takes time, but I don’t think she’d blame you, Valerie,” Sesana comforted, her voice soft.  “We’re in a bad situation, protecting a little girl who will hopefully save us all.  We’re close, all the time, constantly stuck together, depending on one another for survival, for comfort.  It makes sense, in a way, that it would come to this.  You’ve raised her just as much as he has, Valerie.”

Valerie shook her head, closed her eyes, “she is Beryl’s daughter.  I am only here to help with her powers.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.  Sanctus Unus knew what would come and so did Beryl.  Did you think this was a mistake?  Evangeline will never know Beryl, not her name, who she was, nothing.  Beryl accepted that when she gave her life.  Without that sacrifice, Evangeline wouldn’t have a chance.”

“It makes me angry, too,” Valerie confided suddenly, her face twisting in pain.  “Angry that she left like that, left him like that… and Evangeline.  And I’ve had to pick up the pieces, all of them.  And that’s it.  I’m just Valerie, the Seer, pushed to the background.  I hate it.  I don’t want to be angry.  I loved Beryl.”

“We are only human, in the end, Valerie.  I realize that more now than I ever have before.  We are imperfect, prone to faults, to anger, to bad decisions.  I covered for Eckhard, I did things I shouldn’t have, and now I’ve endangered my granddaughter and my son.  We all make mistakes… we can’t choose who we love.”

“That’s becoming glaringly obvious.  I always seem to want the people who will kill me.”

Sesana sighed, “Christian wouldn’t hurt you, Valerie.  He gave a part of himself to revive you.”

“He will when he finds out Beryl isn’t dead.  Not completely.  He’ll find out, Sesana.  I know it.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Sesana said, pulling Valerie into a hug.  “Worry about what you can control and what you can do.  Evangeline needs you and so does Christian.  It isn’t love, but it’s something.  Without you, they would both be lost.”

“And you?”

Sesana smiled, pulling away, holding her hands, “I’m just here.  I’m just happy to see my family, to be with them.  I’ll die for them, Valerie.  Without a second thought.”

“I know, Sesana,” Valerie replied, tears building in her eyes.  She gave the former Era’s hands a squeeze, “I know.”

“Enough of this depressing stuff,” Sesana said, shaking her head.  “Let’s go down there, shall we?  Enjoy the day while we have it.  We’ll be moving again soon.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the ocean,” Valerie said suddenly, following Sesana.

“Well, then, aren’t you in for a pleasant surprise?”

I had really hoped I would somehow be able to work this into AoL, but it wasn’t possible.  This scene is important, though, so I hope others that read AoL will see this.  It explains some things that may have people befuddled.  It’s also a good look at Sesana, as we didn’t hear much from her in regards to Eckhard.  It was always alluded to, but never said for sure.  This one was also very dialogue heavy.  I haven’t done anything driven entirely by dialogue awhile, so I’m a little rusty.  Tried not to let it show!

Valerie sat on the mossy rocks, staring down at the still water.  Fish swam through the shallow blue pool, completely mindless of her plight.  The hot afternoon sun caused a small sweat to break out on her forehead and the back of her neck.  She knew that she didn’t have much time, that she needed to hurry.  They were on the run and tarrying in any one spot for too long could end in disaster.

She sighed, trying to will the tears that pooled in her eyes away.  Guilt swept over her, threatening to break her small back.  She was The Seer, powerful and entwined with the very energy of Sanctus Unus itself… yet even she was powerless against human emotion.  As much as she tried to deny it, it lingered, welling up inside her and threatening to burst.

Her pale hand swept over the surface of one of the rocks, the soft moss tickling her skin.  How long had it been since they’d stopped?  She felt the dirt clinging to her beneath the loose clothing she wore, her pale skin scorched by the seemingly endless sun.  She should be thankful.  Her own clothes had been torn to shreds and she’d nearly been killed, helpless and hopeless against such a criminal.  Still, these clothes felt wrong against her skin, huge and loose.  She had cuff the jeans several times before they fit.  He was much taller, much broader than she was.

Tears moved down her cheeks unchecked and she sniffled.  She needed to stop, to stop thinking.  The less she thought about it the more it seemed distant and unattainable.  Her hand clenched into a fist and she quickly scrambled to her feet, careful not to slip.  She’d left her shoes somewhere near the edge of the pond.

She inhaled the air around her deeply, feeling it move through her lungs, enlightening her with every sensation.  She already knew what her surroundings held, her extrasensory abilities beyond that of someone who was simply blind.  She could see the tendrils of energy flowing through everything, the basis for every form that surrounded her–the trees, the earth, the rocks, even the water.  But to inhale the smell of it all was a human thing, one that rekindled her human desires and needs.  She shuddered.

Slowly, but steadily, she removed the clothing and cast it aside.  She watched as it flopped against the scraggy grass at the edge of the pond.  Her shoes lie some distance away, kicked off and ignored.

The wind felt amazing against her naked skin and she stood for a moment, simply reveling in it.  Touch, taste, scent, and sound… all things she was still privy too and perhaps more so now that she could not see.  Valerie closed her useless eyes and simply took it all in, her hands covering what they could of her nakedness.  Being on the run had stripped away a lot of her shyness.  She’d fought battles, been covered in others’ blood, and even taken a life or two… all to protect Evangeline.

Thoughts of Evangeline forced her mind back to where it had began.  She shoved it aside, moving towards the water.  It was cool and refreshing.

Valerie swam mindlessly about the small pool, enjoying the feel of the cool waters against her skin.  She’d felt so dirty, so encrusted with earth and blood and whatever else she’d picked up along the way.  It was rare they had a moment to simply stop and be clean.  A simple, human comfort they had long been denied.  No one complained.  It was a necessary sacrifice.  Even now, Sesana scouted ahead, to make sure the way was safe and to give Valerie and Christian some time to rest.  When Valerie had left the small camp, Evangeline had been sleeping and Christian had been staring vacantly.

He was channeling.  Valerie was sometimes startled by how much power he’d picked up and even more terrified by how much it changed him.

Suddenly, she felt a small tendril of energy pressing at her guarded mind.  She hesitated before lowering her walls and allowing it inside.  She was met with the familiar childishness of Evangeline’s mind.  She held so much power and yet was so very young.  When she spoke with Sanctus Unus preternatural voice it caused Valerie to tremble.  No child should have to shoulder such a responsibility.

‘Swimming!’

Valerie sighed, ‘Bathing, Eva.  Shh.  Go back to sleep.  You need to rest.’

‘I want to swim!  I’m coming, too!’

‘Stay there, Evangeline!  This pond is too deep for you.’

At this, Valerie heard Evangeline’s small laughter, ‘then I will walk on it!’

‘Evangeline, stay with your father.  Don’t wander off.  Sesana isn’t there to watch you.’

‘Grandma never lets me go anywhere… I’m coming swimming!’

Valerie tried not to be startled when she felt Evangeline’s aura near her.  She had toddled over, but her abilities had helped her along.  Had Christian not noticed she was gone?  Valerie worriedly moved towards the edge of the pond only to hear the harsh crunching of the ground echoing through her ears.  She felt Christian’s aura like a hot, burning star right next to her face.  She put up her walls again, protecting herself from its possessive strength.  Evangeline simply giggled.

‘You’re swimming naked!’

Valerie sighed, trying not to feel the flush of red moving from her collarbone up to her cheeks.

‘She wandered off,’ Christian’s voice echoed through Valerie’s mind.  She was always unnerved how easily he could break through her walls.  He refused to use his voice anymore.  ‘Hurry up.  Sesana is coming back.’

‘Keep an eye on her.  Sesana can handle checking for trouble until we get to Melissande.’

He said nothing, but she could feel his derision at being ordered around.  Before Valerie could say anything else, he closed himself off and moved to fetch Evangeline.

Christian pulled her to him, chiding Evangeline in their own, secret conversation while Evangeline giggled and tugged at his necklace.  Valerie couldn’t see them, but she could feel their emotions, their energy.  Her chest tightened as she felt something inside her stir to life.  She shoved it back down, deep in the depths of her mind, until she once again was sure she had control.  She needed to get out and dry herself off.  They had to keep moving.

She needed clothes that didn’t cause her to think such traitorous thoughts.

Yep, I blew the dust off Simfic50, hooray!  For more information on Memoria and all that, please check my blog entry about it by clicking here! Also, what’s with me and naked sim swimming?  Seriously.

Note: No bodices were ripped in the making/writing of this vignette

Abigail moved through the woods at a leisurely pace, taking in the warm spring air and enjoying the sight of the trees coming to life after a particularly harsh winter.  It had been some time since she’d been away from the grounds–Libitina had made sure that Abigail was always occupied or ‘watched’ and unable to leave.  It was her hope to put distance between Antonius and Abigail.  It worked, but perhaps not in the way she wished.

It had taken Abigail a few tries and falls, but eventually, she managed to shimmy over the wall.

She paused, unable to resist the urge to completely immerse herself in the surrounding fauna and the life it exuded.  It was a beautiful day and she could feel everything as if it were simply an extension of her.  The wind that whispered gently through the trees right down to the roots embedded firmly in the ground were all relaying impulses of energy that she picked up easily.  Her senses were on fire, she was completely open to everything and everyone.  It was dangerous, true, but she knew of no other way.  She could find Antonius this way, use the strand that hung precariously between them as a beacon.

Last night had been a full moon and if she didn’t catch him after his transition, Libitina would see they were separated again.

Antonius, meanwhile, had already resumed his human shape and was enjoying the cool luxury of the pond.  Transforming was dirty business.  The beast in him didn’t care if he got dirty and matted with blood, but Antonius himself did.  He made sure always to throw himself in the pond, unsure as to when he’d get another chance.  Libitina was ever a thorn in his side lately, giving him nary a moment to himself.

He submerged himself in the cool waters, feeling his hair grow several pounds heavier as he did.  He moved up suddenly, bursting through the surface and taking a deep, gasping breath.  His eyes widened.  He sniffed determinedly and found it again.  Abigail.  What the hell was she doing out here?  He didn’t have a chance to ponder it.  She was upon him before he could fully realize it was her.

Faintly, he heard the scuffling of her skirts as she neared him, the soft padding of her shoes against the grass.  She came to a stop, seeming not to notice him completely and called out foolishly:

“Antony?”

The sound of him moving towards the end of the pond caught her attention–the sloshing limbs and the low growl in his throat.  He was very naked.  She gasped and turned aside, both to hide her eyes and the fierce coloring of her face that was quickly moving down her neck.  Her chest felt hot and tight all of the sudden.

Antonius tried not to be amused at her reaction.  He was old, very much so, and given quite a long time to grow used to being naked.  He really didn’t care who saw, but he realized that being around her after his transformation, when his blood still boiled with beastial vigor, was not so wise.  He kept his distance, kept his walls up to her smell and the sound of her labored breathing, the image of her dress moved against the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“How did you escape the grounds?” He asked, but he already knew.  He saw the marks on her dress where her knees had met the bricks of the wall.  She had climbed out, determined to defy Libitina and anger him.  “I am not the only thing that lurks these woods, Abigail.”

He sighed, his hand resting against his forehead.  She just needed to turn around and leave.  He would see her when he was dressed and in a better mindset to deal with her.

Laughter that began as a small, awkward giggle rose in Abigail’s throat.  She couldn’t quell it.  It grew and soon, was uproarious.  She closed her eyes, ignoring the moisture that moved down her cheeks.  Her face burned hot like a fire, but she laughed.  When it finally died down, she spoke:

“I… I think I would be aware of,” she broke in the middle of her sentence, a giggle wriggling free.  She squelched it and resumed speaking, “anything ‘lurking’ in the woods, Antony.  I am hardly an invalid.”

He sighed, “you should return, Abigail.  Before she realizes you’ve gone.  Don’t put me in this position.”

Antonius knew before he said it that it would anger her, but he could see no other way of getting her away.  He was closer now, at the very bank of the pond.  The water lapped at his ankles and he felt himself slowly drying under the heat of the sun.  His hair still hung long and wet from its tail, sending occasional, uncomfortable drips of water down his back.

He kept his eyes from her, again trying to ignore his deeper senses urging him to notice things that he most certainly should not.  She needed to leave, now.

“I am not a child, Antonius Veta!” Abigail raged, dropping her embarassment like a masquerade mask and turning to face him.  She continued, paying no attention to his nakedness, too enraged to care.  “In case you have forgotten, I am the Seer and perhaps privy to some things you are not! So do us both a considerable favor and stop trying to corral me like one would a simple toddler!  I refuse to cower before Libitina, I will not let her master me in such a way…”

Antonius gave her a pointed look, “you mean the way that she has mastered me, little Seer?”  His voice was low, laced with a guttural growl that sent her a step back.

“Do you deny it?” She replied brazenly, regaining her composure.

“I would say that you should not speak of that which you know, truly, nothing of.”

He was completely out of the water now, bare feet against the untamed earth.  The grass was soft, but jagged pine needles lay in wait beneath it.  Antonius felt none of it, his feet numbed to the sensations.  He stared at Abigail, his height towering over her, looking considerably intimidating without trying.  He was waiting for her reply and instead, saw that she had once again remembered his state of undress.

The obvious was no concern of hers, her eyes too caught on his chest and the jagged scars that marked it.  Two were long and particularly nasty looking, one moving over his pectoral and the other looking as if it had been a harsh stab near his kidney.  The others were small and faded, but those two were like glaring beacons in the night, somewhat new, but closed and freshly scarred.  A sudden, shuddering thought came to her mind–what did he do when he was a werewolf?  She had never truly considered it before and now felt immensely foolish.

She had moved closer to him and not realized it until she heard his breathing hitch and recover.  She could smell the water mixing with his own, earthen smell.  Her hand was on his chest, warm against the cooling skin still somewhat moist from the water.  She was unable to take a step back and suddenly, Antonius’ arms came around her like a trap, stealing the breath from her throat.

“You need to leave,” he said, though the movements of his body indicated otherwise.  Already her hair was tumbling down over her shoulders, his hand immersed in the thick of it.  His nose was cool against her cheek, his lips an inch from her own.  His voice sent shivers through her when he spoke again, “you shouldn’t be here.”

Of course, despite his claims, he wasn’t exactly sure if he could let her leave.  His arms made no allowances to her own freedom and his mind was fogged to the point of no return.  She had walked a fine line this time and it seemed as if she’d danced over the edge.  There was only so much control Antonius could exert.  He was not just human, but beast as well, and the two were in full agreement on this matter.

“I… I am not a child,” Abigail said again, feeling his fingers against the laces that held her dress.  She met his eyes, challenging him to say otherwise, to push her back and send her away.  Instead, he freed the last of the bindings and met her gaze fully.

She was so young, so defiant, so completely unwilling to accept that perhaps he was right.  That this was doomed and that they could both feel it in their bones that anything they may build would be quickly torn asunder, along with their souls and bodies.  Perhaps that was not the case, though.  He saw when he looked at her complete acceptance.  So she knew, then.  Of course, she knew the future better than any, better than he could guess.  It confirmed his suspicions and for a moment, he hesitated.  She showed her maturity then, discarding the dress as easily as any, letting it pool at her feet.  Her eyes never left his, making sure he understood the completeness of her acceptance and surrender to this fate, their fate.

“I am not afraid, Antony,” she offered, her voice assured, but her tone waivering at the closeness they now shared.

He smiled then, pulling her closer, feeling the press of her skin against his own.  Of course she wasn’t.  Libitina could beat her blind and dumb, yet still Abigail would defy her.  Meek though she was, there was an immense strength there, one that perhaps rivaled his own.  She bore the weight of the future, of her own fate, perhaps even her own death.  He wished to ask her, to confirm his own nagging suspicions, but did not.  It would ruin the illusion, that life goes on forever and happiness exists longer than a fleeting moment.

Instead, he kissed her fully and felt her acquiesce.  The movements of their bodies were amplified by the growing bond of their separate energies.  Libitina could puppet Antonius no more, for Abigail existed as fully in him, perhaps more so now, than Libitina ever had.  Her tainted blood, her foul energy, all of it seemed moot in comparison to Abigail.  Libitina was a failed Seer, a grotesque embodiment of greed and hatred; Abigail was the opposite.  There was no abuse in her joining with Antony, only the offer of protection and guidance towards a better way, a better side… what he had been meant for before his soul became gnarled and twisted.

Abigail knew more fully than Antonius did the fate that awaited them, the blood that would be spilled, the souls that would shatter and break in its wake.  When she had seen it, pieced it together, tears flooded her eyes and darkened her soul.  Doomed.  It was all she could think, doomed.  And yet her heart grew and she felt no real desire to pull herself from Antonius.  Instead, she dove headfirst into their connection, determined to pull him away, to allow him that peace of mind that perhaps, not all was dark and entirely evil.  She would embrace fate and what it offered.

She would never tell him, could never tell him, she reasoned, meeting his eyes.  The hands that held her with such care and love now would eventually be her end–bathed in her own blood.  She would die to save their daughter… from him.  She could hide that part of her away, lock it up, and never allow him to share it.  It was unnecessary.  She could still love and live knowing the future.  She was the Seer, it was her role to play.  She loved just as deeply and fully as if she had not known, perhaps more so, because she knew the time they had was so precious.

The sun was warm and their bodies tired, their minds exhausted.  Abigail could scarcely form a thought, but still, she kept her guard.  She laid against him, reveling in the warmth of his skin, knowing that she would not know this comfort for some time.  Libitina would be long gone before she and Antonius could rest easily again, and even then, how long would it last?

Antonius knew the same thoughts and shared them fully, not bothering to try and say otherwise.  Before this was over, they would both have changed, made choices, sundered ties, and perhaps made an enemy for life.  It was a small price to pay for the future, for their child.

Oh boy, I was not looking forward to this one!  It’s a beast, isn’t it?  Sorry for the length.  And yes, I copped out on sexual descriptions by instead focusing on what we already know.  Shut up.  I hate writing actual, full-on sex for sims.  It’s just creepy as hell.  Not to mention, me?  Not exactly a romance writer.  I know, such a surprise, right?  So I apologize for the fail here.  Abigail and Antony are really close to my heart, moreso than Beryl and Christian simply because Abigail and Antony follow the path of the two characters they are based on, especially relationship wise.  What’s with me and doomed romance?  Seriously, LOL.  Anyway, this was a memory, so the next piece will resume with Libitina’s beatdown in progress.  Hooray.