Beginning
The sun was rising.
The young woman pulled up her hood and wrapped the violet cloak tightly around her frame. She could tolerate a few hours of sun, but she would need to find a dark place for the rest of the afternoon.
A smile curled her lips as she recalled a discussion with her Sire about the subject. She had asked if moving by shadows when the sun was out would prevent the affliction to burning. "Sure, but good luck during the noontime, there are no shadows then." That was his subtle way of saying 'don't ever do that ever.'
Her musing paused as her trek through the forest stopped at the skeleton frame of a bed. Upon closer inspection she saw that the bed was covering a giant hole in the ground. How strange, was this someone's way to prevent one from falling in? Why use a bed frame? The young woman could smell a cold, dark draft coming from the chasm. Air meant the tunnel opened into a cave and a cave meant shelter. She became amused again at the thought of sleeping with a colony of bats for the day. Then the woman could feel the warm rays of the sun on her back and a great irritation went through her frame. This sensation spurred her into the hole. What's the worse that could happen?
The tunnel twisted and bent for a very long time, the traveler almost considered turning back when the passage got wider and opened up into… "An underground city?" In the middle of Pennsylvania, how odd, but taking a closer look the woman noted the architecture was Italian if she was right. So what would an Italian city be doing in the Northeastern United States? Unless that tunnel was one of those obnoxious portals to a mythical creature's lair, great, just peachy that's exactly what she needed to deal with now.
As she walked along, the place appeared deserted, it was…nice, but the giant globe and cages that hung from the ceiling said otherwise. Her own footsteps were quiet as she walked, but she was waiting, waiting for some roar of anger, heavy footsteps or an attack from the shadows. Her gun was ready in her hand, concealed under her cloak. Entering an enclosure the woman glanced to the wall nearby and she just caught her own shadow changing shape. She paused then continued her path, she needed to let It think she didn't notice and plan how to act.
This was her plan: let the creature strike first and she would shoot the thing in the face, nice and simple. That time came when the woman sensed something was behind her, she told herself to keep her gun at her side. If It could disappear into the darkness then her gun drawn at mid-turn would make It run. What she didn't expect was a leering face inches away from hers. The face hung upside down from the ceiling, those grey eyes filled with mischief, "Boo."
The next second the creature fell to the floor and her gun was smoking. Her silencer prevented a loud bang. The woman kept her promise; she shot the creature in the face. No, it was a man, a tall dark man because he stood at his full height and towered over her, his slim pointed face contorted into anger as he covered the gunshot wound below his right eye. "You little-! You dare enter my palace and attack me!"
"You attacked first." She stated. For a moment she got to see the damage her gun did. A nice black hold right through his face, a trickle of dark blood fell from the wound and collected under his narrow chin. She composed herself with a grin as the man appeared even more flustered by what she said.
"Oh, so saying 'boo' is such a terrible assault for a trespasser?! Please excuse my rudeness Miss, next time I'll have plate of cookies and tea ready." The wound healed as he spoke his little quip.
He went silent when her fingers brushed the healed spot, "That sounds like a plan." His pale skin was cool except where her fingers touched the stickiness of blood that started to dry. "You healed pretty quickly. No harm done." She couldn't help her Russian accent slipping at the end and that got a visible distaste from the man. She removed her hand with a smile, "You don't like the Russians, Tovarishch?"
"I know a man with that certain origin let's say I'm not surprised." It was his turn to grin as she glared at him. "So what do you call yourself, Trespasser? Let me guess…Anastasia?" The look of absolute disgust on her face turned his grin into a wicked laughter.
"Lida," was her curt reply as if her name was more of a threat, "and what do you call yourself, the Boogedyman?"
His reply was smug, "Boogeyman and yes I am known by that name." She stared at him and he wheezed a little chuckle when she replied that was a f-king lame name. "If you prefer 'His Highness the Nightmare King' that will suffice." Lida's response to that was a blank stare as if she was calculating where to shoot next on the target that was his face. He rolled his eyes, "Pitch." The man finished and walked away.
"Pitch?" She repeated and followed him to the globe.
"Black." Pitch stepped behind a column and moved back into the shadows.
"Pitch Black…" Lida was trying to decide if that name was lamer or it was better than Boogedyman. "So this is your 'palace'?"
"Oh? You were actually listening to me." The voice spoke behind her, but Lida knew he wasn't actually there and he was playing now, trying to show-off. "Yes, this is the place where I rule."
"Where are your subjects then?"
"…apparently not too well," He physically was behind her now, whispering in her ear. "I'm the King of Nightmares, of Fear, my subjects are not tangible things. They exist as manifestations of one's own fears and insecurities. The better question is…why are you here?"
She shrugged under her large cloak, "The sun was coming up and I needed someplace dark to stay until the evening." The hood on her head was removed and the man moved in front of her to look at her face. Was he actually trying to figure out what she was? It became clear when a slim hand cupped under her chin and his thumb pushed back her one cheek to see one pointed fang.
Pitch Black's face fixed in deep concentration as he murmured, "How strange," before directing the question at her, "are you new, vampire?"
"If twenty years since Embrace is 'new'," He released his grip and brought his hands behind his back, walking back and forth with a stiff regality. It reminded her of her Sire, he was shorter and much more built, but he carried himself the same. What was her Sire again? Roman or Greek, he mentioned it once.
"Well you definitely found the darkest place to stay. But let me ask you something," Pitch tilted his head over his shoulder, "where else have you hidden when the sun came up?" She answered what was available, the sewers, an abandoned house/shed, a cave, even underneath a bridge, "So why don't you go there then?" He cast an angry glare.
"No," and that answer got his ugly scowl inches from her face, "you'll have to put up with me until sunset."
"Or I could wait until you fall into your deep slumber and get rid of you then."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "We'll see about that." The two gave one another, the hardest, narrow-eyed glares possible and showed their pointed teeth in snarls.
Six hours later.
Pitch slumped in his chair as he stirred the bit of sugar he placed in his tea. Was Pitch Black really so weak he couldn't get rid of a vampire, not a demon, but a once mortal woman who didn't even have the smell of death on her!? Pathetic is what it was. And 'Lida' wasn't normal in the undead vampire sense, his eye twitched when she took a bite of another cookie. Vampires shouldn't be able to stomach that not even one as young as her. Lida took a sip of her own tea, her maple eyes peering at him from under the cup's brim. Her eyes weren't even dull from death, but bright, it was disgusting! She returned the cup to its saucer and ran a hand through her wavy short brown hair. It was borderline messy, but it graced her face with a sweet innocence. The vampire was far from that and Pitch wasn't sure to admire it or blanch at it.
"How's your tea?" Pitch asked. Which sounded more like 'I hope you choke on it you little brat'.
"It's very good, thank-you." Lida had to admit she expected tea and cookies to be poisonous black crap. They actually tasted better than Althea's baking. "I appreciate your reconsidering my stay I'll be sure to mention your hospitality to my father."
The man responded to her little gag-inducing smile with a fake incline of his head of appreciation. "And who is your 'father', Lida?"
"Dante Melancton." The tea the Nightmare King just drank took a little detour down the wrong tube and he took a minute to correct it. That explained so much now and he genuinely smiled, so that creature was still alive. "You know him?"
"Yes, although I thought he was dead. I met him when I cast the world into the Dark Ages. He was very good at terrifying the Moguls and the stunt he pulled when thirteen accused 'witches' were going to be hung, scared the other villagers into near hysteria. Very nice work," This was probably the first time Pitch appeared genuinely happy, "give my regards."
"Of course," the vampire gave a deep yawn. Sure now she becomes tired. "Again, I thank-you," she stepped out of her chair, "but I have much work to do in the evening and I would like to get some rest."
"Of course," Pitch repeated and added when she moved behind him, "pleasant nightmares." There was a momentary glance back on his part as one of his cages clanged loudly. Lida hung upside down from the bottom of it and her cloak wrapped around her like a pair of wings. "I have work to do in the evening." He mocked in a harsh whisper as he cleaned, "And what do I do? Work on my interior decorating?" The Nightmare King, again, looked up at Lida with all the dishes stacked in his hands and tea kettle on top. How did that human expression go? He dodged a bullet? Definitely.
Melancton was the son, estranged son, but still the son of Hades. It was not in anyone's best interest to be on the bad side to the Overlord of the Dead. The Shadow was not as strong since the battle with the Guardians and he would prefer not to get into altercations with any of his dark peers. It was sad to think that centuries ago this wouldn't have been an issue at all. Now here he was catering to the child of a dark figure. "I've survived this long can I at least keep my dignity?"
From her perch Lida watched the man disappear into the darkness before closing her cloak. She then noticed her one finger still had a stain of his dark blood. It was more curiosity than blood lust when she sucked the finger clean. The sweetness surprise her.