We met at a tavern. Outside milky snowflakes fluttered anxiously on the wind like butterflies; they danced in side like moths drawn to a flame when the door opened. London was lost to the throes of a bitter winter, her throbbing heart chilled by heavy blankets of snow, the roads, arteries, that spread from it frozen, its blood, the people, having seeped into the houses that lay among the intertwined arteries and veins; that was where the light reigned and justice was seen done. Branching from the arteries and veins were the alleyways, capillaries, the dark roads I called my home; there blackness was supreme and bloodthirsty betrayal ran rampant. But during winter all was dark and blood ran cold; the thriving city of London grew sluggish as late autumn gained a strangle-hold, finally suffocating and growing still and numb under the midwinter snows. Perhaps the reason my vampiric heart reveled so in that dark winter was because it was so much like death.
The faces of the tavern were ruddy and bloated, pale from the bitter cold and nibbled to red from the frost's bite. Your face was healthily aglow thought, amidst all the cadaverous gloom. My eyes flew to you the instant you entered the room. How out of place you seemed, the bright luster in your eyes cutting through the murkiness of the tavern as a fine-edged sword through flesh. Your eyes met mine and a faint smile traced your lips, as though you were amused by the sight of a fine lady in a lowly tavern. I held a metal goblet, filled with a thick, blood-red wine, in one hand, and calmly I sipped from it while you meandered towards me, though I would not call this aimless, for you had all the purpose of a lion approaching its prey. That thought occurred to me then; an unbidden tremble tingled in its wake.
"Might I have the pleasure of buying you something stronger?" Your voiced asked in a purr as you seated yourself beside me, indicating my drink.
"After I have the pleasure of knowing your name." Came my cool reply. Another grin, almost seductive this time, ran across your lips.
"But of course your highness," Your elegant voice mocked. Outrage clutched at my throat, but your hand took mine and you raised it to your soft lips, pressing their gentle warmth into the fragile cold of my hand. "Dorian Gray." Another shudder ripped through me at your sweet voice. A chuckle rose from your throat at the look in my ice blue eyes: a mangled look of shock, anger and blatant curiosity. You ordered two drinks of warm brandy and handed one of them to me. We downed them slowly, watching each other carefully. My eyes searched yours, looking for something in them, but I could not be sure that I wanted to find it, ot, indeed, what it was I sought.
"Might I inquire your name?" You asked.
"Mina Harker." I replied stiffly.
"Would you care to go somewhere else, Mina?" You asked. I frowned and opened my mouth to tell you how forward and impudent it was of you to ask such a thing, but that something in your eyes froze me, held me there, locked in that immortal moment. I do not think it was of my own volition when I said yes, but it was said. You took me by the arm and led me out onto the frozen streets of London, still as death in the twilight hours. I do not know how or even why I began to love you, just that it was on that first, mercifully bloodless night.
The faces of the tavern were ruddy and bloated, pale from the bitter cold and nibbled to red from the frost's bite. Your face was healthily aglow thought, amidst all the cadaverous gloom. My eyes flew to you the instant you entered the room. How out of place you seemed, the bright luster in your eyes cutting through the murkiness of the tavern as a fine-edged sword through flesh. Your eyes met mine and a faint smile traced your lips, as though you were amused by the sight of a fine lady in a lowly tavern. I held a metal goblet, filled with a thick, blood-red wine, in one hand, and calmly I sipped from it while you meandered towards me, though I would not call this aimless, for you had all the purpose of a lion approaching its prey. That thought occurred to me then; an unbidden tremble tingled in its wake.
"Might I have the pleasure of buying you something stronger?" Your voiced asked in a purr as you seated yourself beside me, indicating my drink.
"After I have the pleasure of knowing your name." Came my cool reply. Another grin, almost seductive this time, ran across your lips.
"But of course your highness," Your elegant voice mocked. Outrage clutched at my throat, but your hand took mine and you raised it to your soft lips, pressing their gentle warmth into the fragile cold of my hand. "Dorian Gray." Another shudder ripped through me at your sweet voice. A chuckle rose from your throat at the look in my ice blue eyes: a mangled look of shock, anger and blatant curiosity. You ordered two drinks of warm brandy and handed one of them to me. We downed them slowly, watching each other carefully. My eyes searched yours, looking for something in them, but I could not be sure that I wanted to find it, ot, indeed, what it was I sought.
"Might I inquire your name?" You asked.
"Mina Harker." I replied stiffly.
"Would you care to go somewhere else, Mina?" You asked. I frowned and opened my mouth to tell you how forward and impudent it was of you to ask such a thing, but that something in your eyes froze me, held me there, locked in that immortal moment. I do not think it was of my own volition when I said yes, but it was said. You took me by the arm and led me out onto the frozen streets of London, still as death in the twilight hours. I do not know how or even why I began to love you, just that it was on that first, mercifully bloodless night.