#epochic

               TURNING A DARK corner into someone else’s feeding session and subsequent murder will never cease to startle him. He is a creature of the night, judge and executioner to the flesh beneath his fangs, and yet, he cannot justify the actions required by his survival. It’s no easier to watch another do the same, to sink into the sweet abyss of this ritualistic bloodletting. This man eases his hunger with far more comfort than Jonathan will ever have, even after having broken his vow to never take another life. 

               That man’s convictions belong to another time, a world where young people aren’t so inclined to stick safety pins in their ears and various other extremities. He could only imagine the mass cases of sepsis that would arise from such a fashion statement back when he was human. 

              The woman’s drained body slips from the other vampire’s hands, dropping to the pavement with a dull and sickening thud. Jonathan sets a pale hand against his hip, regarding the scene with mild horror. 

     ❝ You don’t intend to just leave her here, do you? ❞ The police are far more competent at tracking killers now, even if the motives become crossed during examination.

eventually ,   she  stops  in  front  of  a  sparkly  golden  dress  draped  over  a  mannequin ,   slender  digits  raising  to  finger  at  the  fabric .        ❝       it’s  beautiful     .  .  .       ❞

    THOSE  WERE  UNGODLY  MELODIES.  beautiful, yes,  that  much  was  true;  but  not  welcomed, even  so.    the  reason  why  was  as  fickle  as  candlelight,  and  not  half  as  soft  at  the  flame  itself  -  no.  Nathaniel  was  unreasonably  jealous  of  the ebony  instrument,  the  main  company  of  his  lonely  cursed  existence  -  and  those  dead  fingers  were  no  more  worthy  of  the  marble  keys     as  his  own.       ❛     only  family  members  are  allowed  to  play  the  piano,  sir.    you  better  step  away  from  it.   ❜

“Doctor O’Deorain.” A stiff greeting, echoing in the tinny way of metal and falsities behind the cold muzzle of his mask. “Here to examine more of our angel’s--” There, Genji’s voice dipped, tearing into a ragged-edged growl. “--work?”

    looping  around,  the  star - being  picks  up  the  battered  NOT - HUMAN,  cradling  them  close  before  flying  towards  parts  unknown.     “  let’s  get  you  patched  up.  “

         There was someone in the house, someone alive. She could hear their steps echoing through the halls as though it were thunder roiling in some great storm. The only other sounds that lived here were her mother's insipid moans, the settling of the house itself as it sunk ever deeper into the muck of its foundation, and the music she could at times cause the piano to produce. His intrusion was loud and unmistakable. How dare anyone step foot in Allerdale? This was a sacred place, a place that belonged only to the dead now, and any living presence here was a violation of sanctity.

         His pull was strong, nearly gravitational, and it ripped Lucille from the piano bench, the heavy wooden cover slamming down over stained keys. Her skirts swished across the misshapen floors, but did nothing to move the fine layer of dust that covered them. The air was entirely still in her presence as she made her way towards the trespasser, motes dancing in what few sources of light permeated the house. It didn't take her long to find him, so loud was his presence to her. "You are not welcome here."