It is extraordinary.
Raven feels the blast of air as the train goes by, but not the
dragging sense of falling, and he opens his eyes to see the ground
rushing by below them, and clings more tightly to this ever-stranger
man.
They soon set down, and a soothing voice keens in his head,
and a hand brushes his hair. Raven looks about, at ruined splendor
and hanging lace, and faint moonlight streaming in through the
ceiling. A dessicated fountain dominates the room, ringed by several
dilapidated couches and armchairs.
"Welcome to my home." David purrs.
David watches Raven inquisitively, watches him explore the grand
chamber, staring in every direction, overwhelmed by size and sense.
He is amused by the boy's curiousity, at his investigation of the
fountain in particular--he climbs across the sleek, salt-and-pepper
marble, slides from spout to spout, prodding the openings of the
pipes.
"It's beautiful..."
"It's mine, now."
Raven jumps down, looks around at the messy bed-alcoves
half-hidden by sheer off-white curtains.
"Where are the others?"
David stiffens, eyes him. "Others?"
Raven shrugs, gestures behind him. "The beds..."
David does not respond, but looks beyond the boy to the hanging
rope about the entrance, where the moonlight leaks into the cavern,
pale as a fish's belly. Raven catches his eye, and sees the acidic
yellow-white of grief eating through the tropically blue facade. He
knows that look, and knows the pain that comes with it. He touches
David's hand briefly, unsure of himself.
"They died?"
David nods.
"Were they nice?"
A faint, wistful smile. "Yes. They were my brothers. You
would've liked them, I think." He still stares forward, as if
watching a movie only he can see.
"My sister died, too." Raven says, not seeking pity, only
trying to assuage the pain he knows David must feel--he has heard that
many hands make light the work, and perhaps this works on grief as
well. "When she was little...a train hit her. At the funeral they
kept trying to get me to stay outside, and I didn't know why."
"You were young, little bird."
"But you're not."
"No."
"They were like you, your brothers?"
"You mean, they were vampires?" The elder huffs slightly.
"Yes. They were. And they were killed--murdered."
Raven sits in an armchair, his chains and buckles clinking. He
looks tired more than anything, but is curious about this new friend.
"Why did you talk to me?"
"I've been watching you, little bird. You're different. You
seek out the strange, the macabre. And you are clever. I saw you
elude the guards."
"Yeah? Well, they=re fat and slow. And old. It's not too
hard."
"Still. You kept your eye out, even in the crowd." David pulls
up another armchair and sits across from Raven, watching him with
those pure-ice eyes. His face seems to hover between innocence and a
sense of ancient darkness. Raven, rather than being afraid, is
intrigued. "Raven, little bird, I want you to join me."
"Join you?" The boy cocks his head much like his namesake.
"Be like me, Raven...I'm so lonely."
"Be a vampire..." He looks upwards, frowning and thinking.
David gives him a pleading look, shields dropping in one
desperate moment, grasped at like a dying man gropes for God.
Raven closes his eyes, and a half-smile dusts his lips,
confectioner's sugar on a sweet tea-cake. "Be like you...I'd never have
to go back...never have to run away again..." he opens them again, looks
at David, and the smile turns to one of sudden, relieved realization.
"You...you'd take me in?"
"Of course, little bird."
A look of dazed bliss crosses his features. "Family...yes, I
will. I will be like you, if even just for that."
David pauses, then grins broadly, his laughter like ripples in
a velvet blanket. Raven can feel it in his brain, its soft, warm
vibration, and for the first time in a long time, he feels safe. It
has been only a few hours since he met this new friend, and already he
feels as though he has known him for months. The vampire reaches
over, and takes a glittering glass bottle from behind his chair. Even
in the heat, it does not sweat and Raven knows the syrupy redness
inside is no sports drink. He steadies himself as images of heat and
blood and shrieking iron bellow through his consciousness. He reaches
out a shaking hand to the uncapped bottle, mouth settled in a bravely
grim line. The glass is warm to the touch, and seems to pulse.
Licking lips suddenly gone dry as deadwood, he slugs the liquid back.
In that instant he feels something like an electric shock fire
through his body, but without the pain. The taste of it is all too
familiar; it is the metallic richness of blood, oily and like nothing
else on earth. It is still hot. He drinks long and deep, until he
cannot drink any more, and gasps for breath.
And David watches, and smiles at him.
"Well done, my little bird. Well done."
Raven feels the blast of air as the train goes by, but not the
dragging sense of falling, and he opens his eyes to see the ground
rushing by below them, and clings more tightly to this ever-stranger
man.
They soon set down, and a soothing voice keens in his head,
and a hand brushes his hair. Raven looks about, at ruined splendor
and hanging lace, and faint moonlight streaming in through the
ceiling. A dessicated fountain dominates the room, ringed by several
dilapidated couches and armchairs.
"Welcome to my home." David purrs.
David watches Raven inquisitively, watches him explore the grand
chamber, staring in every direction, overwhelmed by size and sense.
He is amused by the boy's curiousity, at his investigation of the
fountain in particular--he climbs across the sleek, salt-and-pepper
marble, slides from spout to spout, prodding the openings of the
pipes.
"It's beautiful..."
"It's mine, now."
Raven jumps down, looks around at the messy bed-alcoves
half-hidden by sheer off-white curtains.
"Where are the others?"
David stiffens, eyes him. "Others?"
Raven shrugs, gestures behind him. "The beds..."
David does not respond, but looks beyond the boy to the hanging
rope about the entrance, where the moonlight leaks into the cavern,
pale as a fish's belly. Raven catches his eye, and sees the acidic
yellow-white of grief eating through the tropically blue facade. He
knows that look, and knows the pain that comes with it. He touches
David's hand briefly, unsure of himself.
"They died?"
David nods.
"Were they nice?"
A faint, wistful smile. "Yes. They were my brothers. You
would've liked them, I think." He still stares forward, as if
watching a movie only he can see.
"My sister died, too." Raven says, not seeking pity, only
trying to assuage the pain he knows David must feel--he has heard that
many hands make light the work, and perhaps this works on grief as
well. "When she was little...a train hit her. At the funeral they
kept trying to get me to stay outside, and I didn't know why."
"You were young, little bird."
"But you're not."
"No."
"They were like you, your brothers?"
"You mean, they were vampires?" The elder huffs slightly.
"Yes. They were. And they were killed--murdered."
Raven sits in an armchair, his chains and buckles clinking. He
looks tired more than anything, but is curious about this new friend.
"Why did you talk to me?"
"I've been watching you, little bird. You're different. You
seek out the strange, the macabre. And you are clever. I saw you
elude the guards."
"Yeah? Well, they=re fat and slow. And old. It's not too
hard."
"Still. You kept your eye out, even in the crowd." David pulls
up another armchair and sits across from Raven, watching him with
those pure-ice eyes. His face seems to hover between innocence and a
sense of ancient darkness. Raven, rather than being afraid, is
intrigued. "Raven, little bird, I want you to join me."
"Join you?" The boy cocks his head much like his namesake.
"Be like me, Raven...I'm so lonely."
"Be a vampire..." He looks upwards, frowning and thinking.
David gives him a pleading look, shields dropping in one
desperate moment, grasped at like a dying man gropes for God.
Raven closes his eyes, and a half-smile dusts his lips,
confectioner's sugar on a sweet tea-cake. "Be like you...I'd never have
to go back...never have to run away again..." he opens them again, looks
at David, and the smile turns to one of sudden, relieved realization.
"You...you'd take me in?"
"Of course, little bird."
A look of dazed bliss crosses his features. "Family...yes, I
will. I will be like you, if even just for that."
David pauses, then grins broadly, his laughter like ripples in
a velvet blanket. Raven can feel it in his brain, its soft, warm
vibration, and for the first time in a long time, he feels safe. It
has been only a few hours since he met this new friend, and already he
feels as though he has known him for months. The vampire reaches
over, and takes a glittering glass bottle from behind his chair. Even
in the heat, it does not sweat and Raven knows the syrupy redness
inside is no sports drink. He steadies himself as images of heat and
blood and shrieking iron bellow through his consciousness. He reaches
out a shaking hand to the uncapped bottle, mouth settled in a bravely
grim line. The glass is warm to the touch, and seems to pulse.
Licking lips suddenly gone dry as deadwood, he slugs the liquid back.
In that instant he feels something like an electric shock fire
through his body, but without the pain. The taste of it is all too
familiar; it is the metallic richness of blood, oily and like nothing
else on earth. It is still hot. He drinks long and deep, until he
cannot drink any more, and gasps for breath.
And David watches, and smiles at him.
"Well done, my little bird. Well done."