The fire crackled, softly, as it consumed the wood that fueled its silent raging. The soft creaking from the rocking chair filled the room with its constant melody, while the sound of padded feet hit the floor at the interim between rocks.
The woman, far in years, stared into the flames with her bright jaded eyes. The skin that once surrounded her youthful frame had grown old with wear, wrinkled with the age that she had lived through. Her hands, once slender, youthful, and fair, were old, mottled, and brittle. The clothes that once were vibrant, holding, showing, now reduced to a mere gown to cover an old body.
Yet, despite the rocking of the chair, the crackling of the fire, and the soft pad of feet, the coughing also filled the room. Out of the corner of the mouth, which once was thin, with beautiful red lips, came red blood instead. The woman only wiped it away with the back of her had.
The window stayed open, the beautiful Victorian window. It had always been open, since she had finally settled into a life. Her marriage, her children, her grandchildren… She was happy to see that her life had finally accounted to something, even something so subtle. She missed her youth… As frantic as it was. Never had she had an adventure as in those days, where hunting was her forte and nothing could stand in her way.
Nothing… except him. He who had saved her life more than once… He whom she hated and despised, with the indifferent look in his eyes and the skin as pale as the moonlight…
But everything about him, unlike her, would never change. His beautiful brown locks would remain beautiful; his hands would always have their elegance, his body its youthful form. His skin would always remain youthful, and his eyes ever watchful, his senses ever keen.
She remembered him, even to this day. The being that she would rather have killed entrapped her in that lonely gaze; his violet eyes watching her with the sadness beneath. It was love, it was an infatuation… It was something she could never forget, not even with her marriage, not even with giving herself away.
He had said that he would bring her flowers at her death… And when they finally parted for the last time he had said that he would come to her again one day. He had told her… to live. Just to live.
"I've done that already, D… What more do I have to give?" The woman coughed again, and her white gown became stained with droplets of blood. The pain no longer registered anymore – it was far past her time. All she had to do… Was wait. She had faith in him… Such faith that she waited a lifetime to see that man again. And that lifetime was coming to an end, after such a life… Such a life she lived, all for him. Only for him, who had saved her to give her the chance.
It was all that she could do to repay him.
Not a day went by when he did not fill her thoughts with his gaze – that unwavering gaze that tried to hide so many years of sadness underneath. So much sadness… And unlike her, he could never have the chance to live. He could never love her, and she knew this… She knew this with every tear she hated to cry after they parted – after his shape disappeared into the horizon, never to be seen again.
She had heard of him… Oh, had she heard of him. The dark hero, the savior, who gave so much to a race who hated him. She had been one of those that hated him… Inside, there was still hatred. Yet, it was such a strange hatred… A hatred that mixed with the love she once had… With the love she still had. More vampires had fallen to his hands… And when she was still young, she went on one, final pursuit of him, if only to see his face again.
He had known, and all she ever saw of him on that day was a flash of his black cloak, and a glimmer off the jewel he carried around his neck. But no sooner… that he was gone. It was after that day that she fulfilled the hunter's promise, his words that still whispered to her in her mind. She had faith… She would see him again.
The wind blew; softly. The curtains wisped the wood floor of the room in an elegant manner, and Leila could only wipe away the blood that trickled down her mouth again.
"D…?"
It was a hopeful call, every night when the wind would blow in a soft manner. She had called his name since the year she was diagnosed with her lung sickness… Since she knew that it was not only the old age that would take her to heaven, or hell if that was where she was destined. Would he even know of her? She could only hope, and hold onto the faint memories of him that were held in her mind.
She was not startled, as steps occurred in the room. Whether it was a dream, or a reality, she would not be afraid. Her body felt so weak – so frail. She could not rise even if she wanted to.
"Leila…" There was something in his voice… Was it surprise? She could only offer the same, charming smile that she had so long ago, even though the skin was wilted.
"It's been… Eighty years, Dunpeal…" She called him by the same name that she had so long ago… He had actually come. He had remembered.
The black figure moved about the room, to stand in front of the fire and to stand in front of her. He had not changed… He had not changed at all. Even his attire was the same, to mend him in with the night. His eyes were the same… The exact same. Yet they seemed softer now… even aged. If vampyres did not grow old in the body, perhaps it was the soul that wore on him.
She met his eyes, and now they seemed sadly surprised… Yet soon it changed to a deep sadness that made her want to cry. She wanted to cry so badly…. The lump in her throat she forced to swallow, and swallow, even though the blood tried to come past it.
"And you… came…" She blinked her eyes once, and then again, while her stomach turned within her body. It was so surreal… To see whom she loved, whom she had grown to love over the long years. He was there, before her, unchanged. She loved him… She had loved him.
"Oh, D…" She coughed again, and this time, the blood could not be contained by her hand. His motions were fluid, and his arms were around her frail body with such a gentleness that made the tears form. Just his smell… His warmth, and his gentleness, brought out all the sadness of the world that she just wanted to be free of. "You came… You came…."
The dunpeal held her, and gently moved to sit on the floor, where he held her still, like a child, in his lap, while her head rested on his shoulder. "Where have you been…? I've wanted… I just… Oh, god, D…" She couldn't control her breath anymore, and the sobs soon came out. With every hitch of her chest, the blood came quicker. "It's been so long… I just…"
"Ssh, Leila…" D's voice was the same, but so much gentler… So much. She held onto him like he was the only thing in the world to hang onto. Her dark hero.
"I waited… I waited so long…"
"I never break a promise…" D's voice had turned quieter, and Leila soon found a rose in her hand, with the thorns carefully cut off. It was the deepest red… The most beautiful red…
"My angel… of death…" She closed her eyes, and sobbed into the black of his chest, and he only held her. There was a slight gloss in his eyes that was not there before. "I knew that it would come… I'm so glad… You're here…" Her hand held the rose close to her chest, while his arm moved to hold her gently closer. "There's so much…"
There was no way to express the feeling that she had, being held in his arms. He felt so safe, so warm… Everything she had imagined being held by him to be. His eyes were so gentle… so very gentle…
She coughed, again, and again, until the blood was coming up her throat uncontrollably, yet softly. There was too much in her lungs for her body to even repulse it anymore, and she looked into his eyes with all the sadness that she had for him over so many years.
"Will you… hold me… until I fall asleep, D? Just until… I fall asleep. I feel tired…"
"You lived your life so well, Leila… I only wish I could have been there to see your happiness." His voice retained its monotone, but his eyes gave his feelings away, as he held the woman close. "You had a chance to live…"
"One more promise to me, D…"
D said nothing, but only gave a slight nod as he looked down into her vibrant eyes.
"Never forget me."
This seemed to be some sort of breaking point for him, and he closed his eyes while he pulled her to him, this bleeding rag doll he never wanted to cherish. Her tears were still flowing, but her breath was growing shorter.
"It's cold, D…"
D opened his eyes long enough to get a blanket from the chair his back was against, and wrapped it around her. After he had done this, he held her like a baby in his arms, with her head against his shoulder again.
"Hold me close… Just until I fall asleep… When I wake up… I'll understand if you're not there anymore… I'll wait to see you again. I'll wait…"
"Sleep, Leila… Let your dreams take you where you could never go. Wait for me… once you get there. I'll find you one day."
She cried again, and gripped the cloth around him tightly, as she looked up into his face. "I'm going to… go to sleep now, D. I don't think… I could have ever been happy if you had not come…"
The rose was clutched tighter in her hands, and D did not blink, so that she could look upon him for the last time.
"I'll wait for you… I'll wait forever…"
"Leila…"
Her hand moved up, to run along his face, while more tears fell.
"Goodnight, D… Goodnight, hunter… Always remember… what you're fighting for… Never forget…"
"I'll never forget."
It was then that D closed his eyes, unable to look at her any longer. She gave a sad smile, and closed her eyes, never to open them again.
"Goodnight…"
