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 Posted: Sat Mar 08, 2008 4:10 pm
The ghoul led Dean into his apartment. The ghoul, Patrick, had followed his directions magnificently. Over the past week Patrick had been diligently moving and unpacking everything Dean had requested. He moved quickly into all the rooms, not really checking but to assure Patrick that he had done a wonderful job. He smiled. Patrick's mind was slightly nervous but nothing to indicate anything had gone wrong.
"Do you like your new place?" The Ghoul asked, gleefully like a dog expecting a treat.
"Thank you Patrick, the place looks just as I'd imagined. Take the night off, I'll see you tomorrow."
Patrick thanked him and locked the door behind him. 'Yeah right,' Dean thought, knowing the ghoul would merely go to his quarters and stew over the next day's list already waiting for him there.
Immediately he slide into one of the secret passages that only his previous ghoul knew about. That same ghoul lay inside of a white padded room, as he entered it smiled at him. He touched its face, what a pretty face it had even now. Quickly he bite into its neck, enjoying its life. As it drained into him he almost began to feel sorry for it, after all he had been the one to waste its human life, underestimated its breaking point. He had always known this day would come, he wasn't in Seattle anymore. Its life was forfeit so he could maintain his secrecy.
Leaving its body in the one 'secret' room that Patrick knew of, he entered his office and began to type up the agenda for the following year.
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Posted: Sat Mar 08, 2008 5:41 pm
He paused, the deed done. The new blood awakened in him his Toreador self. Without even thinking about it he found himself outside on the balcony staring at the vast city. The darkness and the light, he was enthralled. Below him, and all around him, the people thrived. He could feel it, so much blood, passion, life. For a moment he thought he could feel the city's pulse, but he didn't need to feel it. He could see it, the tiny lights moving faster and faster. It was overwhelming.
Turning away, he went back inside and wandered through one of his galleries. He stopped and looked at the portrait of his sire. How beautiful she was. For a moment he wondered what she was doing, but he already knew, her schedule was imprinted on his mind. He typed in a text, "I heart it here, miss ya love." It would piss her off. She hated cellphones, for a Toreador she certainly was slow at adapting.
Coming to the end of the hallway he wondered if he should see the city that night. Maybe, this was New York. He slipped on a coat and headed into the night.
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Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2008 4:01 am
Dean stood in the entrance, he felt tired. His excursion into the city had taken longer then expected. His cell vibrated, Patrick worrying probably. Ignoring it, he slumped into a chair near the wall.
"God damn--" It was coming, he sat up in a false attempt to prepare himself.
Suddenly he was in the white room, 'something' crouched in the corner facing the wall. You could hear it... chewing. Blood trickled beneath its feet.
"This doll broke already..." The voice sounded almost giddy.
"What do you have...?"
"Curiosity ran Alice over with a lawnmower." It chuckled.
"W-w-what have you done..."
"Hehe, I see you've been cutting grass too."
"What are you... talking about..."
The beast laughter increased. Suddenly Dean felt dripping on his head. He looked up--
Dean shook himself out of the nightmare. 'Enough of this...' he thought. Quickly he made his way back to where he'd left his former ghoul's body. The room was spotless, Patrick had apparently cleaned while he'd been gone. He stood there for a few moments, made the sign of the cross, then made his way to his coffin and laid down.
In the darkness he made a promise to never let his love for mortals slip again.
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2008 3:48 am
Nights passed quickly. Dean found himself painting once more. It had been months since he had last created anything. He needed it. A release of his creative thirst and a little ward to those who would enter. He smiled. The brush moved quickly, echoing his wishes. With every stroke his "absent sway" was taking form.
He formed the emotion in his mind. Coupled with the image already in his mind, the piece took form. After some time had passed he broke away from it. It was finished. He stepped back and gazed at the painting.
It portrayed a hedge maze from the perspective of someone on a hill peering down upon it from a distance. The maze filled the entire work, and hedge sculptures decorated the twists and turns. At first, in the bottom of the painting the maze wasn't difficult, almost inviting. But, the maze got darker, narrower, and more sinister as it moved towards the top of the painting, even going so far as to being completely intertwined that the paths were no longer discernible. A little vine grew up the side of the painting representing the hedges watchful eye.
The painting radiated an odd feeling. It almost seemed to be saying, "come in, enjoy the sites, but be wary for this is mine."
Dean, stared at it for a while, then picked it up and moved it to its place in the entrance way.
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sorrowhuman
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Posted: Sun Jul 27, 2008 11:33 pm
Dean returned, his face flushed. Or as flushed as it could be. It had been awhile since he'd fed on so much blood. Looking around he was definetly feeling it. Maybe it was too much blood, but he felt great. The club had been particularly good. Enough drugs in the blood, and lots of blood. He felt like burning everything to the ground. Oh, but that was definetly the drugs talking. He could picture it. The burning. A most terrible thing indeed. It would definetly be a new twist in his art. He was too efficient at moving in new directions. Abandoning everything in sake of the new and exciting was the very reason he was undead in the first place.
He tapped his fingers on the walls, wondering what would make the place go up in flames the fastest. Blowtorch came to mind... but that was more a hunter's weapon, and he certainly didn't have one. Gas... Gas...
Several minutes later... gas cans in hand, he began pouring it all over his apartment, and down the hall way. His frantic assistant was freaking out, running around grabbing things Dean wasn't particularly thinking about.
sweatdrop
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Posted: Sun Dec 21, 2008 4:14 am
It had been several months since the gas incident. Dean wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he knew that there hadn't been any fire. He knew when he awoke the next night that everything was clean again... Patrick most likely.
Dean had been out in the world taking in all the sights of NY he hadn't gotten time to see since moving there. People danced by, trudging through the snow, red cheeked. A most amusing feature of humanity. But now, still covered in fast melting snow, Dean stood in the doorway to his apartment with presents in hand. Shopping for gifts wasn't something he did very often. Their silver wrapping glittered in the darkness. He put them down, quietly making his way to his computer, before relaxing in a chair.
A woman bent out of the shadows, she smiled a thin smile.
"Darling... how I've missed you.." Her words betrayed her posh, elegant ways. With a little flick of her wrists and a step forward, she made at an attempt to look bitter.
"...Ah, is it that time of year again... Even here in New York..." He laughed.
"Oh, Dean dear, I'm quite glad to see you."
"Yes, you as well." His voice changing to sync with the lady.
"Well, aren't you going to welcome me?"
"Ha, why would I? Its not like I didn't know you were here. Besides... we have no need of such trivial actions." He almost sneered.
"My my, how harsh you've grown." She broke into a half-laugh. "If we have not need for greetings, then what really is worth spending time on?"
"Hmm... questions already? Well... blood... art... and... death... How are you?"
"Oh? How... obvious..." Another thin smile. "I'm well, though rather lonely since you left me dearest..."
"As you should be. Its too bad you turned, otherwise you could eventually die of old age, instead of wasting eternity doing the same exact routine... ugh."
"Dear, is that what you think of me? How your true colors come out... but if I am so flawed then how am I here? Seattle is quite far from here."
"Yes... lets not play this game. You know as well as I do that this is part of your routine, built in, I could be in Japan, but since its nearly Christmas you'd be there as you are now here." He was sitting up, annoyance seeping into him.
"Fine. As you wish." She took a seat in a joining chair.
"I hate you." Dean shock his head. "If I had known I'd have to deal with you EVERY YEAR I'd never let you turn me. Lets just go, I'm hungry." He got up and went to the door, looking to the side for only a second. She rose slowly, but they exited together.
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Posted: Thu Mar 05, 2009 8:14 pm
A spring breeze blew into the apartment, giving life to the dead space Dean called his home. Emilia had been gone since before New Years.
Now, Dean was currently enthralled with a new piece he had recently collected. He had been staring at it for several hours, a pesky trait of his bloodline, when his ghoul entered carrying a small box.
"The items you requested..." Patrick withdrew leaving the package on the desk. Dean merely glanced at him as he left, and then opened the package to reveal a silver gun. A dark smile crossed his face. He loaded it, then slipped it within a holster hidden beneath his vest. It was time to go out.
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