Rêves Hantés

[Amistad Deserenia]

"Daddy, please. I don't want to go in the hole" a pleading voice cried out, the soft innocent voice of a child.

The hole she referred to was of course the dungeon that had been built before they had bought the manor house. One of the things to convince her father it was the home necessary for his purposes. About ten feet down and the same in width, it was nothing more than a square shaped hole dug deep into mud with a few cement foundations. It was kept in the same conditions as if it were still medieval times, meaning it wasn't kept but rather left to fester.

"You broke the rules, now you must be punished." he answered, words she'd heard too often. Rules that were impossible to live with, impossible not to break. And any small bend of the rules always resulted in uncalled for punishments.

"Get in." he growled, nudging her to wards the ladder that dropped into the dungeon area. Her pleas were futile, falling on deaf ears. He ignored her begging, her pleading, her cajoling and promises. She clung to his leg, refusing to move; he kicked at her, pushing her through the hole.

Having been pushed she hadn't managed to get a grip on the ladder, instead she fell straight down to bottom. A loud snap resounded as she landed in a painful awkward position. Her wrist has snapped, and she couldn't help crying out; and if the pain dancing up her left leg meant anything, her ankle had likely been sprained if not broken.

But that didn't matter now, she pushed the pain to the back of her as she lunged for the ladder being lifted back out of the hole. Clinging to the last rung, she refused to let go even when her father shook it with all his might. No, it took him dropping the entire thing to loosen her grip. Another bruise would soon appear for the iron ladder dug mercilessly into the flesh of her legs, likely aided by the cruel man above.

With a pained yelp she shoved at the bottom step, managing to lift it a few inches. Enough for her to wriggle out and scuttle over to the corner. The next part was routine. Up went the ladder, closed went the trap door. And then she searched her cloak pockets for the candle and match, the one her father always gave her before locking her here.

Striking the match she lit the slim candle deftly, showering the room in a dull glow. And then comes the screaming as vermin come into sight. Crawling all around her, over her, and on her. Up her leg, down her arm, and in her long hair. She screamed herself hoarse, cheeks matted with tears, eyes puffy and red. Then blowing out the candle, she gave herself up to hellish sleep..

~~~

Dark framed lids snapped open, a silent screaming torn from her lips. Eyes wild she sat bolt right, clawing at the uneven locks of ebony hanging from her head. Tearing at her hair and scalp, she rocked herself back and forth.

She could feel all manner of creatures climbing over her, tangling themselves in the once-luxurious locks. But they weren't real, they were in the past. She was just having a nightmare. Just a dream.

Taking deep calming breaths, she stared around finally realizing she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Sleepwalking was something she'd done most her life, though before she hadn't ever got far, being encumbered by locked doors. Now she'd managed to get far away from her bed in the castle, she walked herself right in to the graveyard.

Looking down she ran her hand over the smooth marble upon which she sat; the base of a large avenging angel. Her bare feet were covered in dirt, as was the hem of her gray nightgown. It looked like she'd had a foray in the mud on her way here. Her mismatched black and blue eyes stared around again, her small hands ran over her arms and legs, double checking that it was really just a dream.

"I have got to stop eating chocolate before bed.." she muttered aloud, her voice sounding high-pitched and nervous to her own ears.


ooc: Blah. Bad post, what can I say- tis like 5 am here and I didn't get much sleep...

Edit- -shrugs- Like I said it was 5 in the morning, that early I can't be bothered to make sure I'm using the right word.. -eats a cookie-

[Jean Claude]

(ooc: nonsense 'ladder' my dear, la'dd'er )

The rhythm of the swaying trees encircling the grave burial grounds seemed to quicken its cadence as if suddenly spurred by a roguish wind, breaking away from the rest of the heavenly current, and speeding away with newfound freedom. The sound of the trees was the only thing audible in the cool night save for the lone cricket, contentedly rubbing out his searching call in no hurriedly manner. A hoary hue frosted the setting with lunar brilliance, leaving nothing untouched but casting its own arcane shadows across everything. The statues perched atop of headstones were cast in dramatic poise, shaped internally in mourning. Their lack of color mimicking Diane's sphere who in favor, tricked the eyes of mortals, confusing them with her perplexing light, and giving the statues life. They appeared to live in the moon cast shadow, mobile but transfixed in their reverie. Was it the moon however, that caused black curls to sway, brushing against an uplifted face, whose expression was etched more in yearning than melancholy? Did it open the lids of the alabaster statue to greet midnight sky with midnight eyes?

No. It was nothing so majestic and ethereal. It was a mortal.

Jean Claude's curious sapphire eyes glowed in the moonlight, watching the girl stumble across grave after grave, disregarding anyone of whom she might be stepping over. Her feet were practically caked with mud and a few dirty smears covered her gown, arms, and cheek. Her pale face was passive even though her eyes were slightly opened, revealing an extraordinary pairing of blue and black sightless eyes. Jean began to smile. The child was sleepwalking. His pale, unfed lips relaxed as she stopped at a marble marker not too far from him and curled into a ball at the base of an angelic statue. He could smell her nightmare.

Why, Fate, you are a horrible enticer. Jean thought sardonically, his lips twisting into a smirk. You tease me with such a vulnerable offering when I am unfed and lusting for blood. You think that I would kill her in my voraciousness? The vampire knew that he would taste her, despite Fate's temptation. Just for the sheer thought of mocking it. He watched her from his perch above a headstone as she began to struggle in her sleep before finally waking herself with a gasp and tearing at her choppy raven hair.

"I have got to stop eating chocolate before bed..." Declared her frightened, tight voice.

"That is wise, ma somnolent." His voice was smooth as wine and warm as a lover's embrace, just loud enough for her to hear.

[Amistad Deserenia]

"That is wise, ma somnolent."

The voice broke through her inspection, pulling her further back into reality. Not just a voice, but a male voice. Jumping visably from shock and fear, she fell clumsily from her perch, landing with an audible thud. Instantly springing back up from the ground, she stared at the man who had spoken through a veil of black locks.

Her gaze roamed uncertainly over his features, taking in the black curls and pale skin. She'd always been rather pale, but her skin didn't even compare to his. He was unnaturally pale, inhumanly so. And the smirk that lingered over his lips sent chills down her spine; not just regular chills, but ultra visable goosebumps.

Stop being paranoid.. she reprimanded herself, just as she recalled a book she'd read upon arriving at the school.

After meeting the lycaness and having Sephe mention other student creatures, she had paid a visit to the school library. A thick volume told stories of all kinds of creatures, some playful and warm while others were horribly gruesome. Lycans, Demons, even Vampires. Stop it. Relax. Nothing's going to come out and bite you.. she thought, shaking her head slightly.

"May I ask why you are out so late, monsieur?" she asked suddenly, not even realizing what she was going to ask until the words were out. And almost as suddenly her cheeks were filled with a pink blush, as she realized she likely came off sounding nosy. Shivering in the increased wind, she wrapped her arms around herself and waited for his answer.

[Jean Claude]

'Ah... she calls me monsieur, she is perceptive... or perhaps she mocks me?' The vampire mused genially. As she boldly stood studying him, he mirrored her move and continued to cast his gaze upon her features. Normally, he could easily tell the exact age of any mortal and have a fair idea of any of his kind, but this one seemed to allude him. There was something about her distinctive eyes, besides the color, that gave her more years than he would normally have guessed.

Jean's deep chuckle issued masculinely into the night, caressing the girl and wrapping about her in airy promise. "This is actually quite early for me, ma petite." His expression teased her. Instantly, he disappeared from his original position and appeared close behind her, tucking his face in the crook of her neck without touching her, but when he whispered, he allowed his smooth lips to brush her ear. "The question is... why are you still here this late...?"

Then abruptly he pulled away and sat where she had just been, still watching her with teasing, but predatory eyes. He knew, that to her, he was as androgynous as the angel he sat below and perhaps as harmless. Jean's beauty had been part of the reason he had been chosen for the Dark Gift. Those in his line were notorious for their attraction and pleasure, and in his case, a century in servitude. With long black lashes, framing deep cobalt eyes, an athlete's tall, lean body and gently curling black hair brushing a chiseled alabaster face, he fit the vampire stereotype nicely. However, for a vampire that did not kill, he was beyond average.

[Amistad Deserenia]

She hadn't been mocking him, but noting his use of French words she'd done the same. She was bilingual, educated in a variety of languages, obviously including French. Her father always said it was important to learn the languages of different countries, because her father was an important man with important friends. Important foreign friends, friends she had to convince she was an intelligent little doll.

"I am not small, you are just très grand.So-" The rest of her words died on her lips, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was momentarily stunned into silence, stunned by his quick disappearance. Hadn't she read that apparrating wasn't possible on school grounds? So how did he do that? a thought she voiced aloud "Comment- how did he do that?"

He didn't even have to touch her for her to know he was behind her, she could feel his presence looming there. She would have spun around face him, but before she could he whispered to her. His lips brushing against her ear sent another involuntary shiver down her spine, and her lids closed over her eyes as she fought down her ever present fear.

"The question is... why are you still here this late...?"

Did she have anything to fear from him? He didn't look very dangerous to her. He was handsome, ridiculously so. Eyes like midnight framed by dark lashes, hair that curled perfectly around an equally perfect face, and a body most men have to work very hard to attain. Hell, even his pale skin didn't detract from his looks. But she knew better than most that looks could be deceiving, her own father had always been considered classicly handsome with women fawning over him.

"Cauchemars...and I was sleep walking, I didn't really have any idea where my feet were bringing me." she answered, with a nervous chuckle.

Turning to face him she opened her eyes again, staring up at him through her lashes. How could anyone consider this early? From what she could tell, it was nearing midnight. Her curiousity over this mysterious stranger seemed to override her common sense and instinct. Instinct that was currently advising her to turn tail and flee back to the safety and comfort of the castle.

But she didn't run, she was through with running now. Instead she offered a hesitant smile, and said "It seems I've forgotten my manners. My name is Amistad Deserenia, though Amy will do just fine. And you are..?"


ooc: Don't mind any misspelled words...spell check doesn't want to work for me... -kicks it-

[Jean Claude]

"As I am big, you are petite to me...ma petite." Jean's eyes postively glowed in mischief, baiting her.

He felt uplifted this night, as if he had been filled with a fresh air... in a manner of speaking. There had not been any recent gatherings of his kind raucously proclaiming their superiority over the Lycans or returning with any more macabre recountings of their slaughter. Nathan Todd had not appeared again for weeks, but these events, had left him stewing in his own thoughts and memories all this time. Fury had been waiting at his mind's doorstep like some wretched stray, pure bred dog of anger. Disgust registered in his gut and sensitive senses everytime he smelt the potent aroma of Lycan blood.

Slaughtered... for mating... reproducing. Is that a crime? To find another being for whom your affection is so strong that you'd wish for that love to live on and on in the form of another life? Are they so callous to slaughter pups because they themselves cannot create life? But take it?

The ancient French vampire had been bitter, very much so during his death and the termination of any sort of legacy he might have left. However... he had found her, and together, they had love and created Death. Then Nathan Todd... had taken everything...

His amused expression suddenly fell from his face into a serious countenance, as if his visage was whiped clean. Bright eyes darkening, lips slacking, and brows falling, Jean looked away and leaned against the angel nonchalantly, sagging and molding his lithe form against it before turning his eyes back to her apathetically, and looking away again. He did not care if she were angry with him and the smell of her fear was nauseating him. Her courage to stay, however, kept the night from truly disappointing him.

"My name is Jean Claude, mademoiselle, and I shall be your host this evening."

[Amistad Deserenia]

"A pleasure making your acquiantance, Mr. Claude." she answered politely, her voice lilting gently with the typical British accent.

The smile slipped from her face as she took in his change of expression, a brow raising of it's own accord. She was surprised at how suddenly his mood shifted; one moment his eyes were dancing with mischief, the next they were wiped free oh humor and set with a serious countenance. Something must have ran through his mind to alter his mood so, some memory or thought.

She could almost feel his thoughts and emotions, changing from light-hearted to bitter. And something about the sudden change, the depressing air that wrapped around them like a cloak, made her feel a strange bond with the man. Not surprising, she'd always felt a connection to anyone who had suffered or was suffering. The fear that had been lurking about her before slipped from her body, easing the tension in her muscles.

Stepping closer, she said "You look so sad now, when before you looked like the model of mischief. What has happened to make you grow so serious?"

[Jean Claude]

A monster was rising in him.

Closer.

Her step closer was provoking it. His pupils dialated into pin pricks. His anger was lowering his inhibitions like a fine liquor. What she had taken for sadness was a gloomy swallow of fury that was burning within him and just looking at her was filling his head with foul ideas. A scratch from a twig on her ankle released the warm, heady scent of her blood, even deepening his aching Thirst. He had tamed this beast time after time, but tonight, he would let it have its craving of human blood.

"Non... call me Jean." His voice was liquifying, deep, warm, and seducing. Jean's tone was irrefusable, leaving her mortal mind highly prone to his suggestion. He smiled at her now, salacious lips curling with the hint of dark, fantastical promise. The vampire held out an ivory hand, open for her to take. Within her mind he whispered, Come to me, ma cherie, that visibly left her shaken, as if he had taken a finger and ran it down along her spine.

She was utterly helpless to his power and the feeling left him exhilerated. Amy's black and blue eyes were dimmed and her body passive to his control. Dreamily, as she had first walked into the graveyard, albeit, much more gracefully, she went to him and dropped to her knees at his side. Jean's face was pleased and the playful Diane hid the devilish shadows of his features with her light. Gently and effortlessly, he lifted and gathered Amistad to sit in front of him and be supported against his chest, facing away. He wrapped his arms about her, his legs slightly bent on either side of her own, almost as if he wished to completely shelter her with his own body. Nothing could get in and she couldn't get out, even if she could think clearly.

Jean lowered his head to the side of her's. "Life... and death." He rumbled lowly into her ear. "It is amazing how much one chooses between them in our time. Consciously or unconsciously, we're given the choice to live or to die. Some... don't have that choice, and some... make that decision for you."

Her pale, smooth neck pulsed beneath his lips, warming his lack of body heat. He savored her smell of life, as if she were a wine and he, her connoisseur. Running his tongue along her unbroken skin, he marked her before sinking his teeth into her veins, slicing through her warm flesh, instantly filling his mouth with the rush of her hot, sweet, blood.

Jean felt a pounding in his ears or perhaps, it was within his head? Through his euphoria, he could not differentiate or care. Her heart was pulpitating faster throughout him. So much. She was giving him so much blood. He had forgotten what it was like to take so freely from a human. His arms clutched her tighter to him as her head reared back against his shoulder in what couldn't have been described as pain. Jean fully well knew what his Gift had entailed for him. Jean's bite was pleasure.

[Amistad Deserenia]

Come to me, ma cherie

A command she couldn't disobey, even if she'd wanted to. A subtle suggestion; her mind's defenses were weak and vulnerable as she slipped her hand into his. Dropping to her knees at his side, she soon found herself pulled flush against his chest. Wrapped in his arms, she felt surrounded by him, and the last of her reason fled away. Not that there'd been much left, a small voice droning faintly in the background.

"Life... and death... It is amazing how much one chooses between them in our time. Consciously or unconsciously, we're given the choice to live or to die. Some... don't have that choice, and some... make that decision for you."

His tongue running over her smooth skin sent shivers dancing up and down her spine, though not due to fear as was expected. A different kind of feeling filled her, one she'd never known before, just as his fangs sunk into her veins, tearing through the soft flesh of her neck. Pain, sharp and momentary, made her wince and tense her shoulders. But the pain lasted only seconds, if even.

After that all she felt was an odd sort of pleasure, a twisted sense of ecstacy. Her eyelids felt heavy, and resting her head against his shoulder she let them drift closed, hiding the glassy orbs that were her eyes. A small hand lifted, moving slowly to lay against his cool cheek. Her breath came out in a soft gasp as she whispered "Mon dieu.."

[Jean Claude]

((ooc: I truly apologize for this post... it's really late and well.. gah, no excuses )

He felt her body giving him everything that she held, her blood, her warmth, her body, and her life... all of her being was in his possession. With every weakening beat of her heart, he felt himself come alive.

Jean's eyes glared heatedly into the night with revived strength and passion as her body arched into his, succumbing to his masked horror. Now he remembered... now he remembered why he did not partake from humans as readily as his brethren. Their sweet, potent blood... angered him. He could taste their murder. Their willingness and vulnerability to die. Die... why did they all have to die? Vampires were not immortal. For if they were... they would all be alive and he would feel no qualms for taking this young girl's life.

But you... Nathan Todd... changed all of that... A feral growl rose and rumbled in the back of Jean's throat. His swift memories took him to Venice and to the brothrel he owned. There, both the women and the men came, seduced and dependant on the vampiric beauty and pleasure awaiting them in the dark hollows of its doors. Would horror await them this night? Or would the most terrible indulgence sweep them away into an oblivion of ecstacy? His fledglings, his children, were all a part of that masquerade and they fed well. One by one, however, they were found at my doorstep, coldly murdered, and cruelly mocking me. All because I was your true quarry...

Jean held Amistad tightly against him, his arms wrapped around her slim waist and chest, holding onto her as if he could have held onto them all... Oh Angelique... my dove. His hand ran up along her side, arm, shoulder and neck, running long elegant fingers through her choppy silk black locks. He pulled her neck away and found himself panting, falling into an old habit that his body hadn't bothered to forget.

"Is this how you wanted to find me Nathan Todd? Is this the justification you are trying to find?!" The vampire's voice was thick, low, and the abnormal velvet oh so often heard in the voices of lovers, but there was an icy edge to his tone of bitterness. He doubted that the girl could hear him through her reverie, but he cared not, his mind was else where, transported through the taste of her blood.

He held her to him for a while longer, watching as the wound he inflicted glimmered like rubies in the moonlight. Blood still continued to pool around his bite, drawn by his insatiable Thirst. Jean licked it cleanly, using his saliva to help clot the blood, and with his lips still coated with blood, he planted a bloody kiss on the back of her hand and cheek, like some macabre lipstick.

She wouldn't die now. He hadn't taken enough from her for that. Despite his feeding, he still felt oddly cold. Jean leaned into her even more, gathering in his long legs to entwine with hers, and tucking his neck over her shoulder. Whether she was still conscious was beyond him and he was too caught up in his own thoughts to care to even look. He knew, that she would still wake up in the morning or afternoon and believe that it was all a dream. And it made him sad.

[Amistad Deserenia]

Shivers ran up her spine, and her eyes lifted open, glassy unfocused eyes. Seconds ticked by, and slowly her eyes focused, her vision cleared, and she struggled against him. He hadn't caused her pain, quite the opposite, but being this close to any man was enough to strike fear in her, especially because of what she was feeling now. Pleasure, one she'd never known, never thought she would know... at being bitten?

Pushing at his arms, she tried to sit up, but as she struggled his hand ran over her flesh; her arm, shoulder, neck, and through her hair. She was oddly soothed by his touch, grateful that he was hitting her, as another man would be doing now, and he hadn't hurt her.. Relaxing again, she turned her head slightly, enough so she could see his face, just as he spoke.

"Who's Nathan Todd?" she asked, her voice coming out a weak whisper. She felt tired; exhaustion was sweeping over her, and suddenly she couldn't have moved even if she'd wanted to. It was as if all the energy in her body had just evaporated, all her strength had been drained leaving her weak and even more vulnerable than before.

The last thing she felt was his tongue licking her neck, cleaning it of the blood. Then she slumped completely, her hands curled together, resting on the arms wrapped around her waist. Her eyes closed again, long lashes fanned her cheeks, then unconsciousness took over.


ooc: What are you talking about? Your post was great! -glomps- Mines sucks, though on my own behalf it's a'cos I'm in a hurry a'cos lunch is almost over.. >_<

[Jean Claude]

((ooc: Definitely not, your post was exemplary )

A deep sense of stillness came over him as he continued to hold the mortal girl in his white, linen clad arms. Once again, only the wind caused any sort of movement about him, gently swaying his black curls across his eyes. He had won, yet again, dismissing the powerful urge to completely drain Amy, rip her flesh and succulently suck every last drop of liquid from her. Yet no sense of accomplishment fitted him.

Jean lowered his gem-like eyes down to her chest, serenly watching as it rose and fell of its own accord, feeling something not quite unlike jealousy at its ability to move without concious effort. That simple display of life left him with mixed feelings that frankly amazed him. A mortal hadn't caused such a stirring since the first that he had let live. His glittering hard eyes softened and he tilted his head to look into her face, shifting her around so that he cradled her in his arm and against his chest. She was beautiful, yes, exotically so, but she was young as well. Amy reminded him of so much....

Running a finger along her smooth jaw line, he dimly noted the contrast of their palidity, now closer alligned due to her bloodloss. What an innocent creature she was... so young... so helpless... so pained. Her long eyelashes were so dark in the moonlight and her lips only lacked the bloodstained plumpness of his kind. Jean gently ran his fingertips along her face, running across her features, as if he were blind.

He couldn't kill a being such as this even though his nature beckoned for the kill. Jean remembered each and every human that he had ever killed in hunger; their faces, their names, and their distinctive sigh of ecstacy. They all moaned for him, women and men alike, he was not choosy. He remembered quite clearly how he had once lived for the kill, lived for the euphoria of completely filling himself with their life blood, listening to their last, happy breath. How important that had made him feel, how god-like he was, sending them to the underworld with a smile on their face, picking and choosing his next meal from the abundant city crowds. Often, he didn't even have to hunt, for they came to him, quite willingly. Oh how wonderful such power had tasted...

But it meant nothing after Angelique.

Jean slipped a hand beneath Amy's head, using his thumb to gently brush her cheek. He lifted her head and bent to affectionately kiss her forehead. "Live for me, ma petite."

And he watched her until the sun rose.