This is my very first fanfic. Reviews are appreciated. Hope you all enjoy!
The woman's breath came out in small puffs of white mist as she lay slumped against the wall. The snowflakes fell all around her, many of them just barely brushing against her bloody skin.
She had been defeated.
Weakly, she lifted her head, causing her pale blue eyes to meet the cold stare of red eyes which belonged to a well-dressed blond-haired man. The blade of the rapier in his left hand glistened with her own blood, which was slowly dripping off the metal and staining the snow near his feet a bright red. She nearly wanted to throw up at the sight of it.
The man stared at her for a moment in silence before glancing down at himself. He gave an irritated sigh and lifted his right arm slightly, revealing that some of the black fabric had been torn.
"You know, mademoiselle, I'm not very pleased with the fact that you ruined my suit," he remarked, his voice having a hint of a French accent. "Quite annoyed, in fact. You are obviously unaware of just how much time and effort goes into maintaining it." But despite his words, a smile curled the man's lips as he met her eyes again. "But I'll forgive you just this once. After all, it's quite obvious why you'd want to protect yourself from someone...something like me."
Without saying another word, the man rested the tip of his sword underneath her chin, tilting her head up a few degrees. But the woman did not fight back, for she had no energy left to do so.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," the man replied. Slowly, he dragged the blade down her body until it rested between her breasts.
"W-why…?" she asked him weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you...doing this? W-why me?"
"Why?" The man leaned forward, his breath on her ear warm in contrast with the surrounding winter air. "Because, my dear, I know you possess information which I need. I overheard your conversation with your fellow witch friends back at the tavern."
The woman's eyes widened with shock as the man pulled away from her, the tip of his sword still pointed at her chest. "You… you heard…"
The man's grin widened, revealing pointy fanged teeth.
"A normal human wouldn't have been able to hear you, but I am so much more than that." He gently trailed the fingers of his free hand down her cheek. "And, in time, you shall tell me everything I want to know."
With that, the man slashed downward with his sword, tearing the woman's brown dress and slicing deeply into her skin. A surprised gasp had just barely begun to escape her throat before the man suddenly cast his rapier aside, grabbed hold of her shoulders, and bit down on her neck. His fangs pierced the skin with ease, and before long warm, red blood flowed into his mouth. He drank it eagerly, holding the woman tightly against him as her entire body shook. When he'd deemed that he'd finally had enough, he pulled away, but still held her in his arms.
"Strange…" he murmured after a moment of silence. "Almost tastes like...honey…"
The witch cracked open her eyes and looked up at him. "Wh-what...are you?" she groaned weakly.
The red-eyed man met her eyes again, and a smile spread across his face once more.
"I am like you, mademoiselle," he answered. "An outcast. A criminal..." With one hand, he reached into his pocket and produced a small glowing red shard. It was about half the size of his thumb. "...An abomination."
The woman stared at the red shard in silence. She could feel an unmistakable evil energy radiating off of it. "Soul Edge…" she mouthed, not a single sound escaping past her lips.
Silently, the man led the shard of the cursed sword to the deep gash on her chest. As soon as it was placed inside the depths of her body, the witch felt an intense heat spread throughout her entire being. She shut her eyes tightly. It was agonizing. She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.
"Listen closely," the man whispered to her. "When you wake up from this, I want you to immediately head for the land of Wallachia in Romania. When you get there, ask where you can find the man who goes by the name of 'Raphael Sorel'."
The witch tried to open her eyes again, but her entire body felt extremely heavy. The man's orders echoed in her mind as her head lolled forward and her body went limp in his arms.
When she opened her eyes again, she was inside an unfamiliar house, laying on a bed. Sunlight streamed in through the window, and all of her wounds had been bandaged. Where was she? Who had brought her here? What had happened?
Her eyes widened. Who was she?
She couldn't seem to recall...anything.
Looking down at her chest, she placed a hand on the bandage that had been placed on her chest. Immediately, a small orange glow appeared around the wounded area, accompanied by a searing heat throughout her entire body. She groaned and shut her eyes from the pain, taking her hand away from the hurt area.
"Oh, you're awake!"
The woman turned her head towards where the voice had come from. At the opposite end of the room was a nurse, a neatly-folded grey cloak in her hands.
"I finished fixing your cloak after treating all your wounds. I still have to work on your dress. Your gloves remained completely undamaged. They're very beautiful, I must say." The nurse smiled as she set the cloak down next to a pair of white silk gloves that were on a nearby table and walked over to kneel beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"
The woman blinked. "I-I'm... fine...How did I get here?" she asked.
"A man brought you here. He ordered me to take care of you, then immediately left."
A man… "Did he say what his name was?"
The nurse frowned and shook her head in reply. "No, I'm afraid not. But he did tell me to let you know that he hopes you remember his order."
"His order…" the woman repeated, her voice barely above a murmur. Her eyes widened as she suddenly recalled something, the memory triggering itself almost as quickly as a lightning bolt striking the ground in a storm:
"When you wake up from this, I want you to immediately head for the land of Wallachia in Romania. When you get there, ask where you can find the man who goes by the name of 'Raphael Sorel'."
"...Miss?" the nurse asked, worry showing on her young face. "Are you alright?"
The woman blinked again. "Y-yes," she responded, attempting to sound as convincing as possible. "I'm fine."
A smile returned to the nurse's face. "Would you… mind telling me your name?" she asked, her head tilting to the side just slightly.
A moment of silence passed between the two of them. The woman glanced outside, watching as a few sunrays dared to break through the clouds, illuminating the snow it fell upon so that it turned a pure white. The wind blew ever so softly, picking up some of the snowflakes and making them dance and twirl in the air. It was all so beautiful. So...familiar.
And then, without warning, a name came to her as suddenly as the previous memory had just moments ago.
"Florence…" she said, breaking the silence. "Florence Albyn."