Just as soon as his eyes had closed in slumber, he was now awake again, and surrounded in darkness still. He wondered if maybe he had only blinked, but the illusion was ruined when he left his hands up and they hit a hard wall of polished wood. There was a handle right above his head that he found after he felt around for a bit, and he pulled downwards to hopefully move the lid of the casket. He pulled it back easily, his strength filling him with surprise once again. With the lid back, he sat up to see the ceiling of the room he had been put in. Noticing his surroundings, he saw the wine racks holding the tastes of many years, and couldn't help but itch for it, his fingers already feeling cold. He tentatively climbed out of the coffin, doubling over in pain almost at once from the way his stomach ate at him. He gasped, reaching out for the coffin for support, and pulled himself up again.
Shakily, he made himself over to a staircase, his thin fingers reaching forwards like they would have reached for the quills on a harp. Like they had once reached for the quills on a harp. Shaking his head to clear any images that might dare pop up, he tried to concentrate on his hunger pangs instead, which proved to be a completely stupid idea as well. As soon as he began to pay any mind to it, he doubled over once again in pain, feeling tired although he had just woken up. He took a moment to sit down on a step on the stairs, although he was now high enough to see the hallway. He rested against the wall, his eyes bloodshot, and one leg on the same step as him, the other down a step. He tried to lift the lower one, but he was too tired. Maybe the water from last night really had poisoned him, maybe he would die.
Instead he watched the stone hallway as a young woman slowly walked towards him, lighting the hall candles for the evening. He quietly listened to her shoes tap across the floor, getting closer and closer. But there was something else too. Something else entirely, it was like a steady rhythm, thumping away like the beat of a drum. He blinked in surprise as he realized that what he was hearing was the beat and thump of blood pumping throughout her body. It didn't make sense, as he wasn't even quite certain what that meant. But that steady beat was so tantalizing, and he wanted it. He wanted to eat it up, to drink it, to nourish himself with the sound. He tried to make his way up the stairs to get closer to it, but at the very top, he doubled over once again in weakness and hunger. He let out a low growl of pain, his lips hurting from where he had punctured them yesterday, or before, or whenever it had been. It didn't matter right now. Nothing mattered. As far as he was concerned, he was dead, and he was reborn. But he was still himself.
Anyway, with his doubling over in pain, it seemed that he had attracted some attention from the candle lighter, her hurried footsteps coming to a stop with a clatter beside him. She rolled him over, looking worriedly down at him, and immediately he stared at the blue in her neck. He had never noticed that blue so much before. It seemed to thump along with her heart beat, and if he looked closer, he saw a redder colour snaking its way up into her head. It was as if noticing the colour triggered something inside him. Suddenly, he smelt something in the air, a coppery, yet alcoholic smell. A whiff of that summary taste came from the girl as she spoke to him in concern. But he ignored her, his pupils dilating in need. He caressed the side of her face then, and she quieted, staring back into his eyes, her own widening in wonder. She leaned down to kiss his cherry lips, and he didn't mind the feel of her lips on his. He didn't feel disgusted with himself like he normally did. He only felt aroused. But he couldn't tell why.
He trailed kisses down her neck and sunk his fangs into her red colour.
And suddenly everything was euphoria. He felt that piercing joy inside him that he had missed for so long. That summary taste, that inexplicable, beautiful taste, filled his every thought, making the moaning of the girl unnoticeable to him. All he knew was the joy he felt at this thing, this new thing that he had discovered. His joy had been returned to him. He licked at the wound, each drop filling him with energy and sustenance, making him cry out in murmured pleasure at the life force that he was stealing. He was stealing, suddenly, he jumped back, out from under the girl as she fell to the floor, her soul already leaving her eyes, going out of the wound that still bled onto the cut stone floor. He scrambled away, feeling at his mouth, feeling these things, these canines that seemed to have grown overnight. His hands shook as he pulled his dirty fingers away, and his eyes focused on the young girl, lying dead on the carpet. Blood still flowed from her, and his eyes fixated themselves on it. He wanted that high, that joy, that escape again. He felt himself reach towards her again, and he jerked back at the same time, trying to control himself, feeling absolute horror at the fact that he wasn't too upset about killing an innocent girl.
He stared at her body, afraid that if he touched it, it would dirty him and he would be cursed for life, if he wasn't already. He felt around his mouth with his tongue, his eyes widening in surprise when he felt his teeth being absolutely normal in their pristine row. He reached his hand up again, and felt around, feeling nothing. He stared down at the girl, tentatively shifting her hair aside to reveal puncture wounds on her neck. So it had been no dream, he had bitten her, and drank her essence. He was surely some demon, flung back from hell because he was too evil and sinful for any world. Maybe that's why the church preached against abominations like him. He stood up then, feeling completely rejuvenated, albeit a bit uncomfortably dirty, and murderous. He observed his surroundings once again, walking down the hallway to try a shut door only to find it locked. He walked the length of the hallway down to the only other door that did not include the wine cellars. It was locked as well, but on both doors there had been no locking mechanism. They would have to have been locked from the outside. This meant that the girl had been sent to him, herded to him, like a sheep sent to slaughter.
He felt more anger build up for the stranger that had saved him. At first he had found him to be rather handsome and alluring, but now he was beginning to really piss him off. He glanced coldly, emotionless even, at the girl still lying at an odd angle on the cold floor. If he was to be confined here, he didn't want to stare at her, so he rolled her, without much effort around the corner, her arms at her sides, her stare blank. And blood still oozed out, the last of her life force trying to escape a doomed body. He stared at the blood, feeling his stomach rumble, realizing he was still have starved. He knelt down, shutting the girl's accusing eyes, he hadn't even learned her name, and putting her hands folded on her chest. Standing up again, he surveyed his handiwork, feeling a bit better at the way she lay now at least. With the way her hair spread around her, and her neck flopped a bit to the side, you couldn't even see the bite mark.
He then made his escape, hiding around the corner from the body he had just ruined. He tried not to think about the girl's family, hoping that she was an orphan. Not that it did any good. He was seeing visions of her worried face staring down at his own now, and he saw that light innocence in her eyes, and he had crushed it. It had felt good at first to steal that, the initial joy had made him so giddy. But now he felt worse than before, and he slid to the ground. He hadn't even thought about the fact that he was a cannibal, completely insane, and a murderer now. It seemed that last night had taken him from bad to worse, raising the stakes of his petty crimes, a punishment for all that he had accomplished and done to the world around him.
He flicked his head to the side then, hearing a creaking, groaning sound. Shuffling of feet, a dragging sound, and maybe death had finally come to greet him at last? He would surely go happily with him, even if hell was his destination. Maybe they had baths in hell, because he was feeling rather itchy. If they had baths in hell he decided that he could endure the heat, misery, pain, eternal damnation, etc. He just really wanted a bath. Or maybe to just take a blade and cut off all of his gross, matted, hair. Truth be told, he could barely remember what he had done the night before, but it obviously had not been a fun experience.
After a moment, he stood up and went around the corner again to investigate, not caring about dangers. But instead of the dead girl, there was the stranger, she was gone, the door locked and closed again, no doubt. He turned away in frustrated anger, mixed with a hateful silence. Although he would have liked to peek under his eyelashes at the stranger, because damnit, he really was hot. And those soft curls that fell down his back after being loosely tied at the nape of his neck was downright beautiful. But he was angry, and he was already in love. With a dead person, but he was dead now as well, so that was all fine and dandy then.
He began to walk away, when he heard the man talk behind him.
"Kurt, come back, please, that's no way to treat your host. I have provided food for you have I not?"
And he was instantly angry, he had said it in a light and funny tone to try and get a laugh out of him, but it was as if everything he said was just wrong. "Oh yes, I can't die now, and I'm a murderer, excellent, you're great, thank-you."He finished it off with a flourishing bow, which he hoped he still pulled off well even with his current appearance. He was sure he looked as if he had just crawled out of a hole filled with mud and shit, and he was certain he smelled like it as well. Blood was splattered all over the front of the shirt that he hadn't changed for a what seemed like forever now, and he was barefoot, yet his face was more Hummel than ever.
He glared with such am angry brilliance that it would have been hard for anyone to not look away in shame and submission when faced with those beautiful, yet wrath filled blue orbs, only made all the more beautiful by his change. It had been a long time since he had shown such annoyance with another person before that he almost forgot himself, lost his footing when the stranger only smiled fondly at him. He instantly felt demeaned, as if he had just smiled like he would at a new born babe. The man walked forwards, and kurt could not keep himself from backing up in defence, making him use a few choice words under his breath.
"You can call me Blaine. Blaine Anderson the Third."
