Re: Fic: Consequences (1/?)

["sochankitsune" <annelise@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

> Dan wrote:
> "Charlotte" <g>,

Its a nice, homely name. :>

> So, are there new parts coming?

Actually, yes. ;p

Be patient. Here, have a snippet.

--


I awoke from a sleep of ages to find the world once more changed.
Gone were the sweeping majestic fields of old, the shaded glens and 
occlusive woodland that would have shielded me from wandering eyes. 
As I emerged into this new land, I beheld devilry worse than any I 
had imagined or wrought; Terrors of steel. I left behind my dusty 
chamber and sought freedom from the catacombs. How long had these 
tombs lain dormant deep beneath this austere cathedral, ward of 
banishment from all that I knew? Too long, and there too had I been 
hostage, kept alive by hate and the inability to perish.
How would I have looked to the unknowing glance? Would the glamours 
of old maintain my image of perpetual beauty, or would indeed some 
foul horror of the dark loom forth, rotting and fetid, to bring forth 
fear in the hearts of the stout? I knew not. And yet, I had to know. 
Daylight streamed through the open doors and I embraced the light and 
warmth, stepping forth into the sun's caress with wild abandon.
Free once more, free to wander the streets of this new age, to 
drink from the founts of the naive! The sorcery and protection of my 
long-departed love Amarra glistened upon my wedding finger, and I 
felt no fear.

*

The cold winter swirled about me but I couldn't care less. 
Somewhere, a radio blurted the LeAnn Rimes' version of "I believe", 
and a screaming newborn ached for its mother's caress. Everywhere I 
turned I could sense the misery, the heartache, and the suffering.
Life, in all its glory.
Jaded eyes picked out my victim. A glorious boy-child with short-
trimmed golden hair cut short in the fashion of this age; a delicacy 
in denims and cyberpunk attitude. I felt the first stirrings of 
hunger as I approached, my mask of humanity prividing allure and 
budding desires within this frame of pubescent yearning. 
"Sweet child," I breathed and held out slender fingers to encourage 
his touch. Bewitched and enfatuated he came to me, his virgin heart 
thundering louder, the call of blood as intoxicating to me as my 
burdgeoning womanhood must have been to him.
And then he was mine and I took of him, leaving little, less, 
nothing.