I made a few changes, that's why this is up again. Enjoy!
I watch her, her hair blowing in the wind as she stands quietly, weighing the consequences of what she has done. My precious *elle er*, what have you done, indeed? I think perhaps it is what you have not done that makes your head bow in shame and your heart constrict. You have no right to feel guilty about refusing the call of bloodlust, of murder.
My blessed sister, I have searched for you for years, yet never have I dreamed you would be so beautiful. 'You should have been Elvish'.., how many times have I told you that? How many times did that phrase whisper across my lips and into your conscious?
Never did I imagine that you would, in reality, have my blood running through your veins. And I never, never thought you would become my sister.
And yet, why else would I take up my dagger and mark your flesh-that earth stained paradox of soft skin and hard muscle scented with your smell and the unique taste that is only in our kind- if you were not my kindred? Why else would I carve onto your arm the words "You will always be my home" in our native tongue?
Now I know the answer. I would not have dared cut your flesh, nor make you bleed the way I did that night, had you not had the blood of the Firstborn running through your veins.
My sweet friend, my confidante, I see now why I could not love you the way I thought I should. I consider you beautiful, and you are mine to guard, yet I have no regrets in refusing you as my lover.
I only wish I had not hurt you so.
Elle er: "Little one" in Elvish
I watch her, her hair blowing in the wind as she stands quietly, weighing the consequences of what she has done. My precious *elle er*, what have you done, indeed? I think perhaps it is what you have not done that makes your head bow in shame and your heart constrict. You have no right to feel guilty about refusing the call of bloodlust, of murder.
My blessed sister, I have searched for you for years, yet never have I dreamed you would be so beautiful. 'You should have been Elvish'.., how many times have I told you that? How many times did that phrase whisper across my lips and into your conscious?
Never did I imagine that you would, in reality, have my blood running through your veins. And I never, never thought you would become my sister.
And yet, why else would I take up my dagger and mark your flesh-that earth stained paradox of soft skin and hard muscle scented with your smell and the unique taste that is only in our kind- if you were not my kindred? Why else would I carve onto your arm the words "You will always be my home" in our native tongue?
Now I know the answer. I would not have dared cut your flesh, nor make you bleed the way I did that night, had you not had the blood of the Firstborn running through your veins.
My sweet friend, my confidante, I see now why I could not love you the way I thought I should. I consider you beautiful, and you are mine to guard, yet I have no regrets in refusing you as my lover.
I only wish I had not hurt you so.
Elle er: "Little one" in Elvish