Finally free from a golden cage,but at what cost?

Charles wasn't terrible,he certainly was that sort of person Amelie would be friends with,but... The upcoming marriage soured things.

After not too long, the carriage rolls up. It's the same gilded ebony carriage as always, and Charles steps out, giving a short bow to Amelie.

"Please, step in."

He says with a, to them at least, clearly practiced expression and tone. He holds the door open for them, following them on when they board.

It would have been much more bearable if miss Lewis (and,quite frankly,the majority of the other maids and even miss Beaumont) didn't convince her to to wear a dress they don't even like, just because it's supposedly Charles' favourite colour.

After what feels like forever, Amelie finally breaks the silence. Curiosity getting the best of them.

"Could you tell me what your parents are like, please?"

"They are pleasant people, ma's a seamstress, pa's a lawyer..."

'And both are blood drinking monsters and have been for most of my life'

"Like your's, what are your parents like?"

She sighs slightly, picking at a curl without noticing. they shouldn't talk badly about their father, but she can't help it.

"...I am nothing but loved, and I am grateful he is looking out for me..."

"I am sorry for the loss, however late such a nicety is."

He, for once, sounds genuine. His eyebrows raise slightly at how Amelie speaks of their father. That sounds... miserable, at least for them.

"I quite envy such attention, my father tends to be quite busy with... work."

She smiles slightly at Charles,a bit of warmth peeking through the practiced smile.

"I get that feeling..."

He says morosely, fidgeting with the off-red flower pinned to his pocket. He hesitates for a moment before speaking.

"...on such topics, there's been something I've been meaning t-"

He gets cut off when the carriage rolls to a stop.

"...I'll, tell you later, in private."

He says hastily, standing up.

"Let's get going, don't forget to pull your mask up,"

An angel seemed nice. Afterall that's how her father called them - his little dove,or his little angel, blessing his life.

It felt weird,being all dolled up like this,pearls and lace in their hair,but a masquerade was the perfect time for this. Who knows when she'll get another chance?

They were right on time,music and laughter filling the air, easing the gnawing feeling of anxiety,even if slightly. She took Charles' arm, smiling at him.

He smiles easily, gliding his hand into Amelie's. This is about the only pleasant part of such love, in his humble opinion.

"But of course."

He almost purrs out, barely restraining himself from sprinting into the venue. With a small nod to the bouncer they're in. Charles pauses for a moment, closing his eyes for a moment to soak in the wonderful smells and sounds of such a party. With a smile, he turns to Amelie.

"Shall we find a seat, Amelie? Or would you like to just get to the dancing?"

His tone is so genuinely happy, like this is a natural place for him.

She grins, quickly losing their head in the music. Parties were never of much interest to her,but a masquerade is quite different - she can let go and be someone else, somewhere else for a night. A bird that can fly,not a caged one.

Amelie barely waits for Charles as they proceed to the dancefloor. Soon,the sea of faces becomes a blur as she swirls with the music, almost intoxicated with the taste of such freedom. The feather shawl looks almost wing like as she moves.

Charles manages to get out before Amelie (probably less than intentionally) drags him into the crowd and onto the dance floor. He quickly takes her hands, happily leading and being lead through the motions he oh so loves.

He's always loved parties. Be it a ball or masquerade, hell even that lower class one he snuck off to was wonderful. He feels real in motion, like a prisoner shattering the shackles that hold it.

He does, unfortunately, notice something.

He feels the other's eyes long before he spots him. Someone who appears only slightly older than him and Amelie, watching them. The man wears a frankly pretty suit and fox mask, and is clearly (to Charles at least) a vampire. He has to bite back a growl at the look in the other's eyes, instead just shooting a glare when Amelie isn't looking.

While she was never a dancer, and the dance lessons they had to take didn't make them a graceful swan, she still has fun moving around how she feels like. Charles being an actually good dancer makes everything better, though.

It comes to a head when he spots him. The son of Helsing himself, dressed in a blue dress with his rich auburn hair pulled up into some trendy style. With him here, and the amount of vampires Charles knows are here, this is going to turn into a bloodbath, soon.

Throughout the slowly building dread and concern, he has been dancing Amelie towards the edge of the floor. He steps off the floor, gently pulling her along and bringing their dance to a gentle stop. Charles worry and borderline panic is very evident to them on his face.

"I am getting a bit tuckered out of dancing, and this grandest of halls has grown a bit claustrophobic. Shall we take a stroll? There's a coffee house not too far."

"Is everything alright, friend?"

She lets herself be pulled away, squeezing his hand in an attempt to comfort. She told themselves she'll leave all of her worries behind,but now it doesn't seem possible. It was nice while it lasted.

"And yes, I am alright with this. If it makes you feel better."

"I am alright, don't worry."

Though he hates to leave any party on solid feet, Amelie being safe is far worth it. As they walk, he's mentally going over who he recognized at the party. No one's particularly important, though he does recall, with a spot of joy, James slipping away from the party early on. Probably off to a meeting, or similar. At least one of their father's will survive...

She did find Charles' sudden desire to leave odd,but they couldn't necessarily blame him either.

"Was there something you had wanted to talk about?"

"I... don't love you, and I'm not... wholly comfortable, with marrying you."

He inhales sharply, before clarifying.

"I don't hate you, I actually like you, I just don't love you,"

He's really never felt how the stories and others describe love, honestly.

"And I'm not going to argue against this relationship, especially not to either of our fathers."

He doubts James would listen, and his father would rather hit him than listen to his opinion.

"I... just felt like you should know."

"I... I-"

They shake their head, instead choosing to squeeze Charles' hand. It's not that she's somehow offended by his words,or doesn't feel the same, it's just odd to hear your thoughts verbalised like this.

"Me neither. I... Never wanted this, I simply wanted to make my father happy. There is only one person I could see myself feeling comfortable to marry,if I had to."

She lets out a sound that's halfway between tears and laughter, feeling both relieved and... Lost? She prepared herself for this fate, believing it to be the only choice,and yet now that there's actually a chance for a different path,they feel lost.

He mentally slams the door on that thought. He's... not certain how he feels, as whatever it is he clearly lacks the vocabulary to express, and he is sure as hell not going to let his instincts pull him into anger get mad over it.

"I-"

He's cut off when a waiter comes over, placing a plate in front of Amelie and Charles, as well as a mug for each. Amelie's plate has a few well-grilled fatty cuts of pork, and some bacon fried asparagus, and her mug has some nice black tea with the perfect amount of cream. Charles, meanwhile, has a plate of pan-fried potatoes and sausage, and a mug of black coffee. He waits for the waiter to walk away before speaking again.

"...I do hope your father did tell you the after party plan, if not then that's quite frustrating. they've paid for us to have a private room for the night."

he takes a few bites from his meal.

"They... probably have some, beliefs, on what would happen. I'll just cut to the chase, the sorts of things people our age in love get up to when left alone aren't really my thing, and they don't seem to be yours, either."

"Oh dear goodness no! I feel quite fatigued already. And with this hearty of a meal, I might just start to slumber before getting into bed!"

Even so, the thought of sharing a bed with someone else made her anxious. Hopefully Madame Bernard will stay silent about it all,she knows how much the other staff love gossip...

She quickly had to hide her face,which was entirely red, including her ears. It was embarrassing, having to pretend to be a proper married couple.

Tea Gown

c. 1891-1893

Label: D. Kemp & Son / Glasgow

Part 1 out 3

It hasn't been more than a week since Amelie awoke. Since then,she has spent most of her time in the spare room, refusing to step outside of it. Why should she? There is nothing in the world that could make her feel better.

Jackson did try to talk to her. He talked to her on the first night, telling her what happened. He even tried to explain to her the “do’s and don't’s”.

She barely listened.Truth be told, she couldn't accept it. Each night, from the moment the last rays of sun caressed the heavy curtains of the prison Amelie was in,to the first birdsong,she cried. No tears came, unfortunately,but she couldn't help it.

She was forsaken by someone she once called her everything. Once upon a time she may have found it noble. Loving someone so much you are ready to do everything to save them. But reality is much different than the books. If she had a choice,she would have chosen the welcoming arms of death, getting lulled to eternal sleep.

At some point,he has given up on trying to talk to her. She thinks she even growled at him once. That doesn't mean he isn't making his presence known. Each day,there are letters under the door. Talking about mundane things, like the latest town gossip,or a recently read book. She ripped them all.

Worse than the looming realisation of their fate was the change that came with it. Yesterday,she found a small handheld mirror in the room. Surprisingly enough,her reflection was crystal clear.

It's funny how quickly one's appearance can change. The eyes that were staring back at her were cloudy, with a colour that was hard to make out. Dark shadows surrounded them like some cursed halos.

The more she stared the more she didn't recognise herself: pale, almost ghostly skin,the bright freckles that once gave her a playful charm looking more like stains. Maybe it was vanity,but she could not stand seeing herself like this. So she shattered the mirror, throwing it at the wall. That way she can still pretend to be oblivious.

She still wore her masquerade dress,which was in a pitiable state- half of the feathers were ripped out,and there's blood all over it. It's ironic,she was like the embodiment of a slain swan. Maybe the masquerade was like her swan song afterall. It felt grand,up until that moment.

Unignorable physical changes aside,there also was this hunger. It felt… Alive. Like a feral beast clawing at their whole being, tearing up their insides. It was unbearable. Every thought was tainted by a need -something so relentless it made her wish for death doubly so. Nothing made it feel even the tiniest bit more quiet. It was maddening and infuriating at the same time.

A small part of her knew the solution. It whispered like a devil,oh so sweetly. But if she gave in, it would break the metaphorical line between her past and present. She would be no different from Jackson. A wretched creature unworthy to be seen in daylight.

A different part of her wondered how long it would take to starve to death. She already felt so weak…

Her ponderings were cut short by a letter. They almost threw it away without reading,but she decided to give it a chance. As much as she resented Jackson,she felt bad about not giving him a chance. He was clearly trying…

“I may have a compromise.”

A compromise?? It was awful to admit,but it sparked some hope. Maybe she didn't have to feed on living creatures to satiate herself. Maybe there was some hope of normalcy afterall.

“My darling,

I may have found a compromise to aid you with your troubles, would you mind coming downstairs for dinner?

-Jackson”

…Dinner? She couldn't. The thought of looking into his face for more than a moment felt like torture. But if this was their final hope,she had to be brave.

She managed to find an old,long out of fashion dress. It was far simpler than what she would normally wear,but it was pointless to be vain. Surprisingly,it fit. It hung on her like a bag, though, which made her wonder if she lost weight,or if the dress was too big.

After a long moment of hesitation,she started making her way to the dining room. As weak as she was,it was surprisingly easy. It was almost like she could feel Jackson's presence and follow the way to him. A scent lingered in the air as well,one she instinctively knew as Jackson's. They hated how being able to smell him calmed her nerves slightly.

There he was,sat at a dinner table alone. He was wearing simple dull red clothing, reminiscent of the ones she saw him in during their first night in the house.

His expression was unreadable. Or maybe she just didn't know what he was usually like, after all he obscured his face most of the time they were together. It was odd to see it no longer hidden by shadows, noticing all the little signs that would have concerned her if she was still… them.

It was quiet. Neither of them said anything,not until the maid brought in the dinner. Afterall,what could she say?

Before them,lay plates of raw steaks. Really? That was his idea? It looked ridiculous.Amelie gave Jackson a weak glare,a wordless expression of all that she couldn't say.

And yet,she felt herself start salivating the moment they smelt the blood. The beast inside of her went feral and they could barely hold back from tearing into it like a wild animal. But that would be bad manners. She wanted to at least keep that.

It seemed like Jackson noticed the slight shake of her hands,the ghost of a smile spreading on his face.

“Please,do not hesitate, I am sure you will feel better.”

Biting down a hiss,she cuts off a tiny piece of the meat, and eats it.

It felt like nothing at first. It was quite gross, even,given they never ate raw meat. But after a few moments,she found herself cutting off one more piece. Soon enough,the whole steak was done.

Her hands weren't shaking anymore. And when did the room stop spinning? She didn't feel like she could move mountains,but everything… felt easier. Breathing was easier,the world felt more vibrant. She could think clearer!

Maybe there was hope after all. Maybe she didn't have to resort to taking lives just to sustain hers-

But it lingered still. The unyielding thirst didn't feel quite quenched. It just didn't feel quite as loud.

“How do you feel, my darling?”

Jackson's voice cuts through her contemplation. The air around them didn't feel as tense now,it seemed he was satisfied with her feeling better.

“I… I think it helped. Thank you… “

It felt odd, going against the habit of calling him angel. What was once a lighthearted term of endearment now felt… unworthy.

“Why, I am so glad. Shall we celebrate this with a glass of wine?”

Before she could even consider it properly,a glass was placed in front of her. A glass of dark,rich wine, with an aroma she could not resist. It was so sweet! Sure,there was the faintest of metallic hints,but maybe it was just the aftertaste of the steak? Her knowledge on wine was limited.

All she knew was she never tasted wine so heavenly. Maybe it was the alcohol,but she felt herself come alive! Her head was so clear and silent,and the world felt vibrant.

The dinner ended on a positive note. No longer feeling awful and having had a few glasses of the wine,she felt herself become more outgoing, engaging in some lighthearted banter with Jackson. It almost felt like old times. Both of them felt so happy! Past troubles seemed to melt away.

No longer feeling the need to hide away,she decided to sleep together with Jackson instead. They were starting to get used to sharing a bed with someone else,right up until the accident. The week spent apart seemed hard now. Somehow,his presence always felt safe,even when their relationship was shrouded in secrets. How odd. Nonetheless,it was nice to do this again.

As she laid there, drifting to sleep,they could not help but think about how the wine tasted on her lips. The way it made her feel alive and silenced the beast like nothing else. The odd metallic taste… how odd it felt,and yet how she wanted more of that. Was that actual wine?..

As the light began to fade, Amelie stirred awake. It felt so nice to wake up and not feel like crying. She even wanted to do things! Maybe she should check out the library?

On their way there, passing through the dining room,she spotted the bottle of wine they both had yesterday. What type of wine was that? Could she read the label? Just to memorise the details that made it so wonderful,just so she could ask for it again.

The label seemed old, with handwritten text on it. Was it Latin? She couldn't understand anything, besides one line. ‘O negative’.

How… odd. Who would name a wine after a type of blood? But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

The bottle slipped out of her hand, shattering on the ground. She simply stared at it, feeling despair bubble up yet again.

So... it... wasn't wine?

So it was blood,harvested from a living person?? She wanted to be disgusted by it, just to prove herself she's not a monster. But it just made her mouth water.

The steak satisfied her,but it was just that. It numbed the beast,and she could feel the claws lingering at the edges of her mind.

But the wine… The wine made her feel oh so alive. It felt like a balm to the soul. She knew she yearned to feel like that, because feeling numb is not the same as feeling happy.

But what is she supposed to do? She can't just spend an eternity in misery,half starving,but holding on to the remnants of humanity so tight it left claw marks.

But what's the other option? Hurting others just to feel normal? It disgusted her to even consider it as an actual option.

Part 1 out 3

It hasn't been more than a week since Amelie awoke. Since then,she has spent most of her time in the spare room, refusing to step outside of it. Why should she? There is nothing in the world that could make her feel better.

Jackson did try to talk to her. He talked to her on the first night, telling her what happened. He even tried to explain to her the “do’s and don't’s”.

She barely listened.Truth be told, she couldn't accept it. Each night, from the moment the last rays of sun caressed the heavy curtains of the prison Amelie was in,to the first birdsong,she cried. No tears came, unfortunately,but she couldn't help it.

She was forsaken by someone she once called her everything. Once upon a time she may have found it noble. Loving someone so much you are ready to do everything to save them. But reality is much different than the books. If she had a choice,she would have chosen the welcoming arms of death, getting lulled to eternal sleep.

At some point,he has given up on trying to talk to her. She thinks she even growled at him once. That doesn't mean he isn't making his presence known. Each day,there are letters under the door. Talking about mundane things, like the latest town gossip,or a recently read book. She ripped them all.

Worse than the looming realisation of their fate was the change that came with it. Yesterday,she found a small handheld mirror in the room. Surprisingly enough,her reflection was crystal clear.

It's funny how quickly one's appearance can change. The eyes that were staring back at her were cloudy, with a colour that was hard to make out. Dark shadows surrounded them like some cursed halos.

The more she stared the more she didn't recognise herself: pale, almost ghostly skin,the bright freckles that once gave her a playful charm looking more like stains. Maybe it was vanity,but she could not stand seeing herself like this. So she shattered the mirror, throwing it at the wall. That way she can still pretend to be oblivious.

She still wore her masquerade dress,which was in a pitiable state- half of the feathers were ripped out,and there's blood all over it. It's ironic,she was like the embodiment of a slain swan. Maybe the masquerade was like her swan song afterall. It felt grand,up until that moment.

Unignorable physical changes aside,there also was this hunger. It felt… Alive. Like a feral beast clawing at their whole being, tearing up their insides. It was unbearable. Every thought was tainted by a need -something so relentless it made her wish for death doubly so. Nothing made it feel even the tiniest bit more quiet. It was maddening and infuriating at the same time.

A small part of her knew the solution. It whispered like a devil,oh so sweetly. But if she gave in, it would break the metaphorical line between her past and present. She would be no different from Jackson. A wretched creature unworthy to be seen in daylight.

A different part of her wondered how long it would take to starve to death. She already felt so weak…

Her ponderings were cut short by a letter. They almost threw it away without reading,but she decided to give it a chance. As much as she resented Jackson,she felt bad about not giving him a chance. He was clearly trying…

“I may have a compromise.”

A compromise?? It was awful to admit,but it sparked some hope. Maybe she didn't have to feed on living creatures to satiate herself. Maybe there was some hope of normalcy afterall.

“My darling,

I may have found a compromise to aid you with your troubles, would you mind coming downstairs for dinner?

-Jackson”

…Dinner? She couldn't. The thought of looking into his face for more than a moment felt like torture. But if this was their final hope,she had to be brave.

She managed to find an old,long out of fashion dress. It was far simpler than what she would normally wear,but it was pointless to be vain. Surprisingly,it fit. It hung on her like a bag, though, which made her wonder if she lost weight,or if the dress was too big.

After a long moment of hesitation,she started making her way to the dining room. As weak as she was,it was surprisingly easy. It was almost like she could feel Jackson's presence and follow the way to him. A scent lingered in the air as well,one she instinctively knew as Jackson's. They hated how being able to smell him calmed her nerves slightly.

There he was,sat at a dinner table alone. He was wearing simple dull red clothing, reminiscent of the ones she saw him in during their first night in the house.

His expression was unreadable. Or maybe she just didn't know what he was usually like, after all he obscured his face most of the time they were together. It was odd to see it no longer hidden by shadows, noticing all the little signs that would have concerned her if she was still… them.

It was quiet. Neither of them said anything,not until the maid brought in the dinner. Afterall,what could she say?

Before them,lay plates of raw steaks. Really? That was his idea? It looked ridiculous.Amelie gave Jackson a weak glare,a wordless expression of all that she couldn't say.

And yet,she felt herself start salivating the moment they smelt the blood. The beast inside of her went feral and they could barely hold back from tearing into it like a wild animal. But that would be bad manners. She wanted to at least keep that.

It seemed like Jackson noticed the slight shake of her hands,the ghost of a smile spreading on his face.

“Please,do not hesitate, I am sure you will feel better.”

Biting down a hiss,she cuts off a tiny piece of the meat, and eats it.

It felt like nothing at first. It was quite gross, even,given they never ate raw meat. But after a few moments,she found herself cutting off one more piece. Soon enough,the whole steak was done.

Her hands weren't shaking anymore. And when did the room stop spinning? She didn't feel like she could move mountains,but everything… felt easier. Breathing was easier,the world felt more vibrant. She could think clearer!

Maybe there was hope after all. Maybe she didn't have to resort to taking lives just to sustain hers-

But it lingered still. The unyielding thirst didn't feel quite quenched. It just didn't feel quite as loud.

“How do you feel, my darling?”

Jackson's voice cuts through her contemplation. The air around them didn't feel as tense now,it seemed he was satisfied with her feeling better.

“I… I think it helped. Thank you… “

It felt odd, going against the habit of calling him angel. What was once a lighthearted term of endearment now felt… unworthy.

“Why, I am so glad. Shall we celebrate this with a glass of wine?”

Before she could even consider it properly,a glass was placed in front of her. A glass of dark,rich wine, with an aroma she could not resist. It was so sweet! Sure,there was the faintest of metallic hints,but maybe it was just the aftertaste of the steak? Her knowledge on wine was limited.

All she knew was she never tasted wine so heavenly. Maybe it was the alcohol,but she felt herself come alive! Her head was so clear and silent,and the world felt vibrant.

The dinner ended on a positive note. No longer feeling awful and having had a few glasses of the wine,she felt herself become more outgoing, engaging in some lighthearted banter with Jackson. It almost felt like old times. Both of them felt so happy! Past troubles seemed to melt away.

No longer feeling the need to hide away,she decided to sleep together with Jackson instead. They were starting to get used to sharing a bed with someone else,right up until the accident. The week spent apart seemed hard now. Somehow,his presence always felt safe,even when their relationship was shrouded in secrets. How odd. Nonetheless,it was nice to do this again.

As she laid there, drifting to sleep,they could not help but think about how the wine tasted on her lips. The way it made her feel alive and silenced the beast like nothing else. The odd metallic taste… how odd it felt,and yet how she wanted more of that. Was that actual wine?..

Dress

c. 1885-1888

by Gowan and Strachan

A burgundy faille day/walking dress

c. 1890

Dress, c.1885

Dark red silk with woven black velvet floral motif trimmed with dark red chenille, black satin, and beads.

Weapons. Trained, tested, forged in steel and fire. Failure is an inevitability that ends in death. Pain should not be felt--it should be recognized, familiar, and inconsequential

Martyrs. In the form of servants and princes, of leaders and underdogs. If blood is necessary, the martyr will lift their hands and offer it all

Shields. Like tempering a sword, but only to bear and not to lash out. Wounds are medals--not symbols of pride, but symbols of worth. A pretty shield is useless; scars mean a job well done

Experiments. Raised on the cold comfort of a lab table. Restraints are only necessary when they're not in their right mind. Is it honorable, to be twisted beyond recognition? Or is it just a necessary evil?

Monsters. Cruelty, caution, and regarding one as a creature beyond reasonable thought is tempering in its own right. But if you keep a leash at the right length, perhaps the massecre won't reach you. One can hope.

Idols. Pretty face, pretty name, pretty hands around their shoulders and throat. There to seduce, manipulate, force any feeling to come to the surface and twist it to their favor. Any genuinity stays locked behind the guilded cage that surrounds their pretty little heart

Trophies. Status and wealth and the traditions that keep someone at their heels, on their knees, to display and serve and decorate one's ballroom.