Title: Waterfall of Blood
Author: Dana
Content: Song fic
Rating: R
Spoilers: Season 6
Pairings: Willow/Drusilla
Description: Part four of Willow Mine. Willow soothes Drusilla.
Setting: Post Grave
Feedback: dana@celticmuse.net
Distribution: Ask first please.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of BtVS so please do
not sue me I am only a poor rabid tech. The song is called Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday.
Soft humming filled the air as the dark figure danced to music only she could hear. Round and round in circles; she laughed as she lost her footing and fell to the ground. Cool stone pressed into her back and she closed her eyes, listening to the music in her head. She could barely make out the words. Listening harder, she heard it clear into screaming and then she saw the blood flowing. It moved thick and dark, her eyes followed the trail of blood to the source.
Her head tilted in curiosity as she looked at the body before her, eyes tracing the face while her mind tried to place where she knew it from. Brown hair caked with drying blood and blue eyes widened in horror, death taking hold. The song intensified, and bits of memories came to her.
Cakes and tea, they used to have cakes and tea in the afternoon. They danced all evening in beautiful rooms and blood so much blood. Whimpering, she opened her eyes. Standing, she scanned the room for her beloved. Nothing moved. Haltingly, she called out softly.
Still no answer. Fear started to slide into her heart. Where was her little tree? Had she left like the others? She didn't even remember moving, but she soon found herself in their bedroom. There, on the bed, her fear settled as she gazed at her creation. Red hair fanned out on the black sheets, showing off the pale smoothness of her skin. Her long dress trailed along the floor as she moved to the bed. The mattress sank slightly under her weight as she crawled up the silk sheets.
Smiling happily, the music got softer until she could barely hear it at all. Drusilla settled herself against her childe, marveling at her beauty. Looking at her the voices started talking to her again. Telling her of blood and joy, then they started to laugh at her. Telling her she would lose her Willow. Shaking her head violently she wrapped her arms around the cool body next to her, squeezing tightly in her distress.
Slowly the redhead rose up from her dream. They were so beautiful and full of blood. She loved dreaming of blood; she could dance in it and drink it in. Filling her body with joy and pleasure, moaning softly she opened her green eyes. Turning in her sire's embrace, she blinked curiously. Something was bothering the brunette and it worried her. "Dru, what's the matter?"
"The stars laugh at me. They laugh at their princess."
Frowning, she nuzzled Drusilla's pale cheek. Deep in her chest, she started a soothing purr as she nibbled her way down to her graceful neck. "Why do they laugh at my mummy?"
"They tell of everyone leaving me; their princess will be lonely again." Whining softly, she rubbed herself against Willow's body, trying to find some comfort; to find a way to forget the stars. "They won't have any tea or cakes. They've been naughty."
Wanting to reassure her sire and make her forget, the young vampire stood, pulling the distressed woman with her. Leading her into the room, she left her standing for a moment so she could move over to the CD player. A slim finger pushed play and a haunting melody filled the air. Softly, she sang her words winding a web of comfort around her lover.
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood on the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar tees
Swaying with the music, she made her way towards her sire, her hands held out as she caressed the cool skin. The morbid words wound around the room casting a spell of delightful gloom. She wrapped her arms around Drusilla's body, pulling her into a dance.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh
They danced around the room, twirling in circles to the poignant words, the images of dead bodies filled their thoughts of delicious food. The brunette's worries filtered away as the music overrode the laughter of the stars. The last words fell from her lips like a waterfall of blood.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop
Author: Dana
Content: Song fic
Rating: R
Spoilers: Season 6
Pairings: Willow/Drusilla
Description: Part four of Willow Mine. Willow soothes Drusilla.
Setting: Post Grave
Feedback: dana@celticmuse.net
Distribution: Ask first please.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of BtVS so please do
not sue me I am only a poor rabid tech. The song is called Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday.
Soft humming filled the air as the dark figure danced to music only she could hear. Round and round in circles; she laughed as she lost her footing and fell to the ground. Cool stone pressed into her back and she closed her eyes, listening to the music in her head. She could barely make out the words. Listening harder, she heard it clear into screaming and then she saw the blood flowing. It moved thick and dark, her eyes followed the trail of blood to the source.
Her head tilted in curiosity as she looked at the body before her, eyes tracing the face while her mind tried to place where she knew it from. Brown hair caked with drying blood and blue eyes widened in horror, death taking hold. The song intensified, and bits of memories came to her.
Cakes and tea, they used to have cakes and tea in the afternoon. They danced all evening in beautiful rooms and blood so much blood. Whimpering, she opened her eyes. Standing, she scanned the room for her beloved. Nothing moved. Haltingly, she called out softly.
Still no answer. Fear started to slide into her heart. Where was her little tree? Had she left like the others? She didn't even remember moving, but she soon found herself in their bedroom. There, on the bed, her fear settled as she gazed at her creation. Red hair fanned out on the black sheets, showing off the pale smoothness of her skin. Her long dress trailed along the floor as she moved to the bed. The mattress sank slightly under her weight as she crawled up the silk sheets.
Smiling happily, the music got softer until she could barely hear it at all. Drusilla settled herself against her childe, marveling at her beauty. Looking at her the voices started talking to her again. Telling her of blood and joy, then they started to laugh at her. Telling her she would lose her Willow. Shaking her head violently she wrapped her arms around the cool body next to her, squeezing tightly in her distress.
Slowly the redhead rose up from her dream. They were so beautiful and full of blood. She loved dreaming of blood; she could dance in it and drink it in. Filling her body with joy and pleasure, moaning softly she opened her green eyes. Turning in her sire's embrace, she blinked curiously. Something was bothering the brunette and it worried her. "Dru, what's the matter?"
"The stars laugh at me. They laugh at their princess."
Frowning, she nuzzled Drusilla's pale cheek. Deep in her chest, she started a soothing purr as she nibbled her way down to her graceful neck. "Why do they laugh at my mummy?"
"They tell of everyone leaving me; their princess will be lonely again." Whining softly, she rubbed herself against Willow's body, trying to find some comfort; to find a way to forget the stars. "They won't have any tea or cakes. They've been naughty."
Wanting to reassure her sire and make her forget, the young vampire stood, pulling the distressed woman with her. Leading her into the room, she left her standing for a moment so she could move over to the CD player. A slim finger pushed play and a haunting melody filled the air. Softly, she sang her words winding a web of comfort around her lover.
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood on the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar tees
Swaying with the music, she made her way towards her sire, her hands held out as she caressed the cool skin. The morbid words wound around the room casting a spell of delightful gloom. She wrapped her arms around Drusilla's body, pulling her into a dance.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh
They danced around the room, twirling in circles to the poignant words, the images of dead bodies filled their thoughts of delicious food. The brunette's worries filtered away as the music overrode the laughter of the stars. The last words fell from her lips like a waterfall of blood.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop