Disclaimer: I do not own any thing, or claim any rights to the characters
and/or ideas of Vampire Hunter D.
She was sleeping now, the petite angel. Her hair was still tangled, encrusted with her mother's own red blood, dirtying her fair hair. She resembled much of Lila. A shame it was, as he watched the shadows radiate upon her gentle face by the tender firelight, that her home had been besieged, her town for that matter. He couldn't place why; she stirred in the black night.
She'd grown since last he laid his eyes upon her, substantially so. Her body had grown tall, long and lean he could note, as she lay curled up beside the torching flames. So much like her grandmother he thought desperately. Would someone leave flowers at this little ones grave? When she died, would anyone else know? He found it almost funny, as he gazed upon her, that she still retained the braids he had last left her with. Yes, they had grown, falling far past her waist. She was probably 16 now…maybe older. One loose braid pooled beneath her cheek which rested upon the cold ground, the ribbon far gone, and the other braid was nearly free itself, the delicate satin lace clinging to the last strands it with held. She shuddered. For the first time since he laid his eyes upon her, the thoughts of everything he faced in the past left, and he reached forward, laying his thick-shouldered cloak over her. Human nature, the horse whinnied as it pulled its reign from the tree in vain.
"I'm telling you right now, she's trouble." Left hand spoke with idle desperation. D ignored it. The parasite could not sway him right now.
"Do you think it was vampires?" The question cringed at his soul. Yes. As far as he knew, it could be nothing else, however, the question was why. Why did the vampires destroy this innocent's home? He had never known vampires to set a massacre in motion. Lefthand yawned. D laid his back against an old tree, rotting with age, the horse tugged again. His eyes fell shut, slipping ever so slightly. Perhaps he should rest, as the child was doing. No, she wasn't a child anymore…it had been no less than a decade since last he had seen her…no less.
D's eyes sunk upwards, the girl stirred. A soft moan escaped her lips and she let her body fall from her side to her back stretching herself out, one arm above her head. She sat up, groggily and winced, her body drooling forward for a moment as her arm reached her shoulder. The pain was visible in her features, and D watched, as still as a shadow on a tree.
"Damn!" she cursed, her voice steady and strong, much like Lila's. Her eyes glanced upwards, and as she gazed to her right, the breath in her throat wedged. Her uncomplicated eyes of deep cerulean and amber teal bore in a vicious gaze, softened in the most fantastic way. It was he, the man at her grandmother's funeral!
"You." Her voice was a near whisper; her eyes glanced down. Her shoulder was bound, the bandages wrapped tightly about her breasts. What happened?
Poor Angel, D thought tenderly. Sad eyed Angel…her eyes made him feel like he owed her something, something incomprehensible, something holy and pure.
"You're D." the girl's statement was almost startling…she knew? Ah, yes, his legend preceded him. After all, had Lila not told her darling granddaughter of him? Her eyes dripped down to the cloak that draped over her naked legs. She felt nearly sheepish now, like a little child dressed in a ragged skirt of dark blue and simple, short-sleeved shirt of dove white. Buttoned and collared. She realized she only had one shoe on, holes in both of her knee high socks. Her mind spun. Who was this man that she knew? Where did he come from? What happened?
"What happened?" she asked, timidly. D stared back dully.
"You're the only survivor." This could not be! Only survivor? What he said could not be true…Mama…Papa…no, and no, and a thousand times no!
The girl crawled to him, around the fire and stopped to kneel before him, like a submissive whore.
"What happened?!" her voice shattered with concern and frustration.
"I don't know." Lying bastard, he thought bitterly.
"Go to sleep." She wept then. D was not prepared, and he felt Lefthand urging to speak.
"Ask her, her name!" It was a curious whisper, and, she did not hear the parasite, all other sounds were deaf against her sobs.
D was cautious, perhaps overly so, and he felt his heart wrench as she shuddered once more. The evening had a cold bite. He snaked his hand behind her, gripping the fallen cloak, and laid it over her shoulders, one hand still clutching the wound.
"What's your name?" he asked her. Emotion escaped him, even as he tried to put it to use.
"Delilah." Delilah…The sad eyed angel…
Author's Notes: Okay, this was just a prologue. If you people like this, drop me a line, review, give me a sense of accomplishment! Anyway, for right now that's it. Tootles!
She was sleeping now, the petite angel. Her hair was still tangled, encrusted with her mother's own red blood, dirtying her fair hair. She resembled much of Lila. A shame it was, as he watched the shadows radiate upon her gentle face by the tender firelight, that her home had been besieged, her town for that matter. He couldn't place why; she stirred in the black night.
She'd grown since last he laid his eyes upon her, substantially so. Her body had grown tall, long and lean he could note, as she lay curled up beside the torching flames. So much like her grandmother he thought desperately. Would someone leave flowers at this little ones grave? When she died, would anyone else know? He found it almost funny, as he gazed upon her, that she still retained the braids he had last left her with. Yes, they had grown, falling far past her waist. She was probably 16 now…maybe older. One loose braid pooled beneath her cheek which rested upon the cold ground, the ribbon far gone, and the other braid was nearly free itself, the delicate satin lace clinging to the last strands it with held. She shuddered. For the first time since he laid his eyes upon her, the thoughts of everything he faced in the past left, and he reached forward, laying his thick-shouldered cloak over her. Human nature, the horse whinnied as it pulled its reign from the tree in vain.
"I'm telling you right now, she's trouble." Left hand spoke with idle desperation. D ignored it. The parasite could not sway him right now.
"Do you think it was vampires?" The question cringed at his soul. Yes. As far as he knew, it could be nothing else, however, the question was why. Why did the vampires destroy this innocent's home? He had never known vampires to set a massacre in motion. Lefthand yawned. D laid his back against an old tree, rotting with age, the horse tugged again. His eyes fell shut, slipping ever so slightly. Perhaps he should rest, as the child was doing. No, she wasn't a child anymore…it had been no less than a decade since last he had seen her…no less.
D's eyes sunk upwards, the girl stirred. A soft moan escaped her lips and she let her body fall from her side to her back stretching herself out, one arm above her head. She sat up, groggily and winced, her body drooling forward for a moment as her arm reached her shoulder. The pain was visible in her features, and D watched, as still as a shadow on a tree.
"Damn!" she cursed, her voice steady and strong, much like Lila's. Her eyes glanced upwards, and as she gazed to her right, the breath in her throat wedged. Her uncomplicated eyes of deep cerulean and amber teal bore in a vicious gaze, softened in the most fantastic way. It was he, the man at her grandmother's funeral!
"You." Her voice was a near whisper; her eyes glanced down. Her shoulder was bound, the bandages wrapped tightly about her breasts. What happened?
Poor Angel, D thought tenderly. Sad eyed Angel…her eyes made him feel like he owed her something, something incomprehensible, something holy and pure.
"You're D." the girl's statement was almost startling…she knew? Ah, yes, his legend preceded him. After all, had Lila not told her darling granddaughter of him? Her eyes dripped down to the cloak that draped over her naked legs. She felt nearly sheepish now, like a little child dressed in a ragged skirt of dark blue and simple, short-sleeved shirt of dove white. Buttoned and collared. She realized she only had one shoe on, holes in both of her knee high socks. Her mind spun. Who was this man that she knew? Where did he come from? What happened?
"What happened?" she asked, timidly. D stared back dully.
"You're the only survivor." This could not be! Only survivor? What he said could not be true…Mama…Papa…no, and no, and a thousand times no!
The girl crawled to him, around the fire and stopped to kneel before him, like a submissive whore.
"What happened?!" her voice shattered with concern and frustration.
"I don't know." Lying bastard, he thought bitterly.
"Go to sleep." She wept then. D was not prepared, and he felt Lefthand urging to speak.
"Ask her, her name!" It was a curious whisper, and, she did not hear the parasite, all other sounds were deaf against her sobs.
D was cautious, perhaps overly so, and he felt his heart wrench as she shuddered once more. The evening had a cold bite. He snaked his hand behind her, gripping the fallen cloak, and laid it over her shoulders, one hand still clutching the wound.
"What's your name?" he asked her. Emotion escaped him, even as he tried to put it to use.
"Delilah." Delilah…The sad eyed angel…
Author's Notes: Okay, this was just a prologue. If you people like this, drop me a line, review, give me a sense of accomplishment! Anyway, for right now that's it. Tootles!