Title: Tales of the past: Eire
Author: Alecca
e-mail: kitana_m@yahoo.com
Summary: Angelus and Darla leave Ireland. The boat trip.
Rating: PG-15? (If that exists)
Pairings: Angelus/Darla, Angelus/other.
Spoilers: None here(Maybe some Becoming).
Disclaimer: I don't own Angelus or Darla, they belong to Joss & Co.
Feedback: Begging helps. So please, pretty please?
Dublin
19 November 1762
A thick mist covered the old harbor, giving it an ancient look, of mystery and magic, but yet it was just fog on a cold November night. The north winds blew towards the city of Dublin,
covering it in an icy weather, disliked by all. The rains hardly stopped for a day, the ships being finally able to leave the harbor after weeks of impossible travel by water. Only few dared the tempests of autumn, for their fury was great.
He walked slowly towards the ships, watching the commotion. Many wanted to leave the coldness of Ireland for the beauty of Europe. Rich, poor, all wanted to leave, but still the city of Dublin was full of people and merchants. He watched with fascination the preparing of the ships. Baggage and crates everywhere, the thieves lurking through the passengers for a few golden coins. Darla moved besides him, her long gown reaching the floor, already stained with mud or water from a puddle. She grimaced when she saw the state it was in. He held her arm so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd. She wanted to leave, after 8 years in Ireland, she needed something new. She did promise him to show him the world. That was her protest when he said they should wait for spring. She desperately wanted to leave, she was sick and bored of the Irish.
He lost the argument, but mostly he gave up, he wanted to see new places too. She talked with so much excitement about Europe and the years she spent there. And now they were in the harbor waiting for the Queen Anne to take them to a port somewhere in the french region of Bretagne.
After living around 30 years in Ireland he was going to abandon the place of his birth, leaving behind himself a bloody trail of corpses and death. It took most of the night for all the passengers to get aboard the large ship. But in the end before the crack of dawn, the ship began moving slowly along the coast. He stood there, on the deck aware of the coming sunrise, just to take a final look upon the land of the Irish. The mist began spreading this time more thin towards nothingness in the higher parts of town. The bells of the churches rang announcing the last victims of the creatures of the night. A somewhat happy noise began to be heard from the distant harbor. Maybe there were cheers for their leaving, Angelus thought watching the land distancing from himself. A weak sun made its way through the heavy clouds resting on the sky, predicting more rain would come. Darla pulled him from his weary gaze over the horizon, down into their room, before his skin began to burn or turn into ashes. As he walked down the stairs, he saw one last time Ireland before it disappeared and was replaced by water.
Down in their small room, he rested, lost in thoughts.
"What bothers you?" she asked leaving her dress to drop to her feet, revealing a thin silk shirt down to her knees, her breasts showing through the material. He caressed the fine silk. She closed her eyes as his fingers made a path across the material. "It was brought all the way from China. I'm going to take you there one day."
"Uh-huh," he pushed her closer to him, drawing a lazy trail across her breasts with his tongue. She moaned quietly then pulled away for a moment.
"You think we can be quiet?" she asked looking around at the small bed. He nodded pulling her closer. He leaned down clutching the silk of her shirt lifting it up over her head, leaving her naked in front of him. The one thing she'll never regret about him was that he was a great lover, of which she could never have enough. He watched her body, every inch of her aching for him. He put away the thought of Ireland and the constant rocking of the boat, that was slowly getting to his nerves. His hands moved up her body, pulling her down on the bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He woke up stiff in her cold embrace and under the rocking of the boat. His eyes opened and for a moment he forgot where he was, thinking he was in the heated bed of their house in Dublin, or for a split second in the house of his parents, the rocking an effect of the drinking or his father's yelling. He stood up, her naked body covering his. He looked towards the door and realized it was night. Slipping from her embrace, he got dressed and left the cabin.
The powerful smell of salt invaded his senses while he got closer and closer to the deck. The night was clear, a few stars sparkling on the cloudy sky and he partially could see the full moon rising above his head.
He looked at the horizon in hope of seeing land, but he could only see water and a vague image of a coast of England. In two nights they would reach Brest and then he could put everything behind them. A girl moved gracefully around him.
"Might I know what you're looking at?" she asked him,
with a familiar Irish accent, watching the horizon.
"Nothing, milady, nothing," he said, a wave of hunger overwhelming him. "May I say you are beautiful?" he made her blush, her curly hair pinned up, a few curls escaping them. He moved his thumb across one of them moving it away from her eyes. Her face
became redder at his one little gesture to touch her.
"Viviane!" an old woman came rushing towards them, pulling his hand from the girl's face. "It's not proper to be alone with a man, especially one you don't even know."
"Aunt, we were just talking," the girl protested.
"Sir," she turned and walked away with her niece.
The old bag ruined his dinner. His fist clenched in hate and hunger. He noticed the sky was getting darker and entered the hallway observing inside which room the girl had disappeared into. Luckily for him the lady and her aunt had separate rooms, one next to the other. He knocked on the door of the old woman.
"You again?" she snapped after she opened the door.
"It's urgent that I speak to you. It's about your niece. Won't you let me in?" he asked.
"Come in," she said stepping out of the way. "What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing," he put his game face on, shoving her into a wall. Putting his hand on her mouth, he bit deep in her neck draining every drop of blood until she laid dead on the bed. He licked his lips and left the room, closing the door behind him. He knocked on the door of her niece. She opened wearing her nightgown.
"Hello," she said and then realized it wasn't proper for her to be this undressed in front of a man. She put her dress in front of her nightgown. "You mustn't be here, sir. It's not... proper."
"You look prettier without that," he said pulling away her dress. She blushed and invited him in.
"My aunt will kill me if she finds out," she said moving so he could close the door. He moved in front of her, their bodies an inch away from one another. "I... we...,"
she was disturbed by his presence, hypnotized by his beautiful features.
"Shhhh," he whispered, their lips almost touching. He knew she was pure and innocent and he decided to play with her before he killed her. He kissed her, his tongue devouring her fragile lips, his hands caressing her thighs, while bringing them near to his own, so she could feel his desire for her. She pulled away. He was beginning to lose his temper, but he stayed quiet. He neared her again pulling away the string to her gown, letting it fall to her feet. She looked down at the fallen gown and then back at him, her blue eyes searching for something, while her hands desperately tried to cover herself. He pulled her hands away, holding her wrists firmly away from her body. She looked up at him desperately as his scrutinizing gaze analyzed her body. Tears fell from her eyes. He kissed them away, his hands running over her back. She sighed and surrendered her body to him. An evil grin passed on his lips at the victory.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He left the boat after two days, on a much clearer night, the stars shining over the quiet harbor, the moon lighting the path of the ships. No mist could be seen, only dew seemed to be forming on the leafs. He wondered why he left the girl, Viviane, alive. Sure she made a great bed warmer, a faithful student and a way to make the time pass faster, but had he attached himself to her? He shook the thought and comforted himself that she had no honor anymore and he killed her precious aunt. She was so devastated when she found out her aunt slipped and broke her neck, as the captain so quaintly put it. Darla taunted him constantly about her. He had left her sleeping in her room, her body tired from their last mating.
He walked absently in front of Darla, holding his drawings in one hand while carrying her luggage in his other. He dropped one of the drawings, not even noticing it. Darla looked at him and sighed. Should she tell him that while he was looking for their luggage she had slipped in the cabin of the Irish girl? That she had snapped her neck like a twig, not even waking her from her heavy sleep? She chose not to tell him, she could taunt him for months with this. A smile played on her lips as she leaned down and picked up the piece of paper he had dropped. It was the girl from the ship, sleeping naked between the sheets. She turned it on the other side. One word was writing, in his beautiful calligraphy: "Eire". She followed him, thinking the drawing would've been much better if the girl's neck would've been broken, in the impossible angle she had snapped it in. She made a pretty corpse though, she had to admit it.
End
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author: Alecca
e-mail: kitana_m@yahoo.com
Summary: Angelus and Darla leave Ireland. The boat trip.
Rating: PG-15? (If that exists)
Pairings: Angelus/Darla, Angelus/other.
Spoilers: None here(Maybe some Becoming).
Disclaimer: I don't own Angelus or Darla, they belong to Joss & Co.
Feedback: Begging helps. So please, pretty please?
Dublin
19 November 1762
A thick mist covered the old harbor, giving it an ancient look, of mystery and magic, but yet it was just fog on a cold November night. The north winds blew towards the city of Dublin,
covering it in an icy weather, disliked by all. The rains hardly stopped for a day, the ships being finally able to leave the harbor after weeks of impossible travel by water. Only few dared the tempests of autumn, for their fury was great.
He walked slowly towards the ships, watching the commotion. Many wanted to leave the coldness of Ireland for the beauty of Europe. Rich, poor, all wanted to leave, but still the city of Dublin was full of people and merchants. He watched with fascination the preparing of the ships. Baggage and crates everywhere, the thieves lurking through the passengers for a few golden coins. Darla moved besides him, her long gown reaching the floor, already stained with mud or water from a puddle. She grimaced when she saw the state it was in. He held her arm so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd. She wanted to leave, after 8 years in Ireland, she needed something new. She did promise him to show him the world. That was her protest when he said they should wait for spring. She desperately wanted to leave, she was sick and bored of the Irish.
He lost the argument, but mostly he gave up, he wanted to see new places too. She talked with so much excitement about Europe and the years she spent there. And now they were in the harbor waiting for the Queen Anne to take them to a port somewhere in the french region of Bretagne.
After living around 30 years in Ireland he was going to abandon the place of his birth, leaving behind himself a bloody trail of corpses and death. It took most of the night for all the passengers to get aboard the large ship. But in the end before the crack of dawn, the ship began moving slowly along the coast. He stood there, on the deck aware of the coming sunrise, just to take a final look upon the land of the Irish. The mist began spreading this time more thin towards nothingness in the higher parts of town. The bells of the churches rang announcing the last victims of the creatures of the night. A somewhat happy noise began to be heard from the distant harbor. Maybe there were cheers for their leaving, Angelus thought watching the land distancing from himself. A weak sun made its way through the heavy clouds resting on the sky, predicting more rain would come. Darla pulled him from his weary gaze over the horizon, down into their room, before his skin began to burn or turn into ashes. As he walked down the stairs, he saw one last time Ireland before it disappeared and was replaced by water.
Down in their small room, he rested, lost in thoughts.
"What bothers you?" she asked leaving her dress to drop to her feet, revealing a thin silk shirt down to her knees, her breasts showing through the material. He caressed the fine silk. She closed her eyes as his fingers made a path across the material. "It was brought all the way from China. I'm going to take you there one day."
"Uh-huh," he pushed her closer to him, drawing a lazy trail across her breasts with his tongue. She moaned quietly then pulled away for a moment.
"You think we can be quiet?" she asked looking around at the small bed. He nodded pulling her closer. He leaned down clutching the silk of her shirt lifting it up over her head, leaving her naked in front of him. The one thing she'll never regret about him was that he was a great lover, of which she could never have enough. He watched her body, every inch of her aching for him. He put away the thought of Ireland and the constant rocking of the boat, that was slowly getting to his nerves. His hands moved up her body, pulling her down on the bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He woke up stiff in her cold embrace and under the rocking of the boat. His eyes opened and for a moment he forgot where he was, thinking he was in the heated bed of their house in Dublin, or for a split second in the house of his parents, the rocking an effect of the drinking or his father's yelling. He stood up, her naked body covering his. He looked towards the door and realized it was night. Slipping from her embrace, he got dressed and left the cabin.
The powerful smell of salt invaded his senses while he got closer and closer to the deck. The night was clear, a few stars sparkling on the cloudy sky and he partially could see the full moon rising above his head.
He looked at the horizon in hope of seeing land, but he could only see water and a vague image of a coast of England. In two nights they would reach Brest and then he could put everything behind them. A girl moved gracefully around him.
"Might I know what you're looking at?" she asked him,
with a familiar Irish accent, watching the horizon.
"Nothing, milady, nothing," he said, a wave of hunger overwhelming him. "May I say you are beautiful?" he made her blush, her curly hair pinned up, a few curls escaping them. He moved his thumb across one of them moving it away from her eyes. Her face
became redder at his one little gesture to touch her.
"Viviane!" an old woman came rushing towards them, pulling his hand from the girl's face. "It's not proper to be alone with a man, especially one you don't even know."
"Aunt, we were just talking," the girl protested.
"Sir," she turned and walked away with her niece.
The old bag ruined his dinner. His fist clenched in hate and hunger. He noticed the sky was getting darker and entered the hallway observing inside which room the girl had disappeared into. Luckily for him the lady and her aunt had separate rooms, one next to the other. He knocked on the door of the old woman.
"You again?" she snapped after she opened the door.
"It's urgent that I speak to you. It's about your niece. Won't you let me in?" he asked.
"Come in," she said stepping out of the way. "What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing," he put his game face on, shoving her into a wall. Putting his hand on her mouth, he bit deep in her neck draining every drop of blood until she laid dead on the bed. He licked his lips and left the room, closing the door behind him. He knocked on the door of her niece. She opened wearing her nightgown.
"Hello," she said and then realized it wasn't proper for her to be this undressed in front of a man. She put her dress in front of her nightgown. "You mustn't be here, sir. It's not... proper."
"You look prettier without that," he said pulling away her dress. She blushed and invited him in.
"My aunt will kill me if she finds out," she said moving so he could close the door. He moved in front of her, their bodies an inch away from one another. "I... we...,"
she was disturbed by his presence, hypnotized by his beautiful features.
"Shhhh," he whispered, their lips almost touching. He knew she was pure and innocent and he decided to play with her before he killed her. He kissed her, his tongue devouring her fragile lips, his hands caressing her thighs, while bringing them near to his own, so she could feel his desire for her. She pulled away. He was beginning to lose his temper, but he stayed quiet. He neared her again pulling away the string to her gown, letting it fall to her feet. She looked down at the fallen gown and then back at him, her blue eyes searching for something, while her hands desperately tried to cover herself. He pulled her hands away, holding her wrists firmly away from her body. She looked up at him desperately as his scrutinizing gaze analyzed her body. Tears fell from her eyes. He kissed them away, his hands running over her back. She sighed and surrendered her body to him. An evil grin passed on his lips at the victory.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He left the boat after two days, on a much clearer night, the stars shining over the quiet harbor, the moon lighting the path of the ships. No mist could be seen, only dew seemed to be forming on the leafs. He wondered why he left the girl, Viviane, alive. Sure she made a great bed warmer, a faithful student and a way to make the time pass faster, but had he attached himself to her? He shook the thought and comforted himself that she had no honor anymore and he killed her precious aunt. She was so devastated when she found out her aunt slipped and broke her neck, as the captain so quaintly put it. Darla taunted him constantly about her. He had left her sleeping in her room, her body tired from their last mating.
He walked absently in front of Darla, holding his drawings in one hand while carrying her luggage in his other. He dropped one of the drawings, not even noticing it. Darla looked at him and sighed. Should she tell him that while he was looking for their luggage she had slipped in the cabin of the Irish girl? That she had snapped her neck like a twig, not even waking her from her heavy sleep? She chose not to tell him, she could taunt him for months with this. A smile played on her lips as she leaned down and picked up the piece of paper he had dropped. It was the girl from the ship, sleeping naked between the sheets. She turned it on the other side. One word was writing, in his beautiful calligraphy: "Eire". She followed him, thinking the drawing would've been much better if the girl's neck would've been broken, in the impossible angle she had snapped it in. She made a pretty corpse though, she had to admit it.
End
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
