Darklight
Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood, but I own my true vampire characters. There is some language and mature moments, so if you cannot handle even a little...sorry! (Heh...just kidding).
"I've already told you: the only way to a woman's heart is along the path of torment. I know none other as sure." -Marquis De Sade
"Living is strife and torment, disappointment and love and sacrifice, golden sunsets and black storms. I said that some time ago, and today I do not think I would add one word." -Laurence Olivier, Sir
By: VampireQueenAkasha
Prologue
Year 3050 A.D.
Post Apocalypse
Rome
A terrified Methuselah fled down the murky streets of the dank city of Rome's own poor.
"Oh God ... " he cried.
It was a bit if irony that any member of his species called to the human Deity. They had their own God and their own religion. But perhaps when one felt himself in a state of panic, they would do things they would never do when calm and serene.
The Methuselah raced into a dark alley, knocking over trash cans to try and topple his pursuer. But that did no good. His chaser, a dark and shadowed for jumped up at impossible heights and took to the skies. Below, the shadow of a larges, winged figure passed on the ground and the Methuselah cried out in terror.
He ran until he found himself at a dead end and groaned with anguish.
"Shit..."
The figure's shadow landed from above and blanketed him completely. He turned, whimpering in despair and terror.
"Please ... have mercy ... " the Methuselah begged.
The figure was silent for a while, cast in darkness and approaching him slowly like a Reaper.
"Mercy ... mercy is for humans ... " the figure growled, in a deep, hateful voice.
The Methuselah opened his mouth to scream, but the figure was upon him swiftly, grasping his mouth tightly in one hand to silence him. Almost intimately, the figure placed a finger to his lips.
"Shh ... it will be over soon ... "
The Methuselah stared at this being with widened eyes and whimpered behind the hand that tightly covered his mouth to prevent the scream that he wanted to unleash.
"Die."
The Methuselah's muffled screams died in the hazy night as sharp, deadly teeth seized his throat. Tears of pain stung his eyes as his life's blood was stolen from him. The being gulped and swallowed his blood, sighing with pleasure between the feedings.
Finally, the being let the dried up corpse fall to the floor with a thump, and kicking it once for good measure. After a long silence, the being let loose a maniacal laugh.
O
Note-Well, that's the start of it! I hope you sort of liked the beginning. I wanted to give it a suspenseful feel so you'd wonder who killed the Methuselah. Hm, let me know how that went.