#broomsticksarestereotypes

((It’s perfect! I’m like, halfway tempted to respond xD You know Ly would probably ticked waking up later, too.))

Send me a number from 1 - 35 and I'll generate a meme.

7: If you had to choose, how would you want to die?

     Lucy watched the girl, who had settled in quite nicely. Lyanna proved useful in washing her clothes, drawing her baths and serving her meals, in fact she had become Lucy’s personal maid, which over the weeks proved most useful because Lucy could blackmail her, not a delicate feat at any cost but there were no questions raised when she demanded to stay in bed all day, or for her curtains to be drawn, for Lyanna to have to lie to her mother. Because if she refused, Lucy would sooner throw her out onto the street again, and no one wanted that.

     It was only at night did Lucy stir from her bed and it seemed Lyanna had not missed this, she had grown curious as to why her mistress was acting odd as of late, and where Mrs Westenra was. But little did Lyanna know that Lucy had drank her own mother’s blood and hid her corpse. But even that had not been enough, for the deadly thirst she felt burning at the back of her throat. That night Alexander Grayson stole into her room she found no food would do only human blood, the sunlight burned her skin and she had no desire to socialise. Her skin grew paler, her hair blonder and youth had been kind. A mistress of the night now, she did not recognise herself when she looked in the mirror.

     Lucy found Lyanna in the small rooms of the servants corridors, over by a bench, with her bucket of water scrubbing her black boots shiny again, little did Lyanna know Lucy would not need her riding boots anymore, they would never be mucky with the dirt of a horse, she didn’t need to ride anymore.

"Lyanna…"

     Lucy spoke, her voice soft and laced with foreboding that would make anyone’s toes curl with unease. Lucy was hungry, or rather thirsty and this Lyanna would have to do as her next meal, for the servants were dropping off like flies and although Lucy had no desire to make a meal of her dearest servant, she was left with no choice. Risk telling Lyanna to drag helpless souls back to her home so she could drink their blood? Or have the child stab her with a stake as she slept? Either way people would start to notice disappearance and Lucy needed just enough life to get herself from this town.

"I wondered…"

     Her feet took her slowly into the dark room, sweeping out the candles a she crossed the room to Lyanna, who did not turn, still her hands wet with dirty water, one holding the boot, the other a scrubbing brush. Soon the sweeping of the bristles over leather stopped and Lucy could almost taste the hesitance in Lyanna’s stance.

"I wondered… If you had to choose… How would choose to die?"

     There was an evil sort of grin to Lucy’s comment, but she did not want to strike fear in the girl. 

"I was reading the most odd article in the newspaper… They discussed something of a ‘Jack the Ripper’ in London, who happened to be mutilating all the young girls and I wondered… I wondered if one would be wiser to take their own life than to fall into his clutches."

     But she was lying. She knew of a Jack the Ripper, but she had not been reading of him. She didn’t care how Lyanna wanted to die, because she would die here and now as Lucy took the life from her, lips on warm flesh sucking the skin like a babe.

"But no matter…"

     Her voice was a whisper now, Lucy on her knees behind Lyanna who still sat on the bench with her back to her mistress. Lucy’s tone held venom and almost, lust. But not for Lyanna so much as it was her blood, getting her high on adrenaline, so eager to taste it.

"Because… Death is such a final act… One not to be wasted…"

     Her pupils dilated as she moved closer to Lyanna’s neck, her breath cold as was the touch of her skin, sweeping back her hair, her sweet blonde hair that hung loose, to disguise the beating veins in her neck that beat with blood.

"Death is beautiful, indeed."