Title: Changing
Author: Winter M.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Glimpse of Dru around the events of Not Fade Away
A/N: Well, I've been wanting to try my hand at writing a little Dru piece--concerning Wesley's death actually--and this is what happened.
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The stars had already said goodbye, submitting to the blazing passion of the sun, running, hiding away where little ones are told never to go. Dark places, never to be touched by the sun, refuge for the night when it must toddle off for a time. Sweet places, empty space and silence, so free and full of honey sweet things; packed close to bursting with all sorts of good things eternally lost and driven away from this earth. Oh how they sang sweetly to her, a call, a caress, imparting wisdom and knowledge.
Ripe red dripped languidly, a soft thunder as it fell, slow and steady. Drip drip drip, one drop after the other, constant, from the delicate little holes in the young maiden's neck. Her eyes lolled softly in their sockets, life slipping slowly away like water through one's fingertips. Nothing so material you could hold it in your hand though, not really, but it drained away nonetheless. Her struggles against inevitability had long since ceased, fading away in quiet concert with the small splashes at her side, a little pool of crimson staining the carpet.
Drusilla had turned away, disinterested after awhile, so little fun left in the empty shell she had created, the life all gone away, the spark, pulled from the body to flood through her own system. Oh it sang, like a burbling brook over rocks and pebbles winding its way through a dark forest; it sang so sweetly, her blood did, voice a whisper thing through the body, giving flush and unholy warmth where there should be none. The blood sang but the shell was empty, lifeless eyes dilated and black, while the last of her life fell away in a slow drip drop, splattering against the tiles.
It had run across the white slate tiles of the floor, dipping into the little channels of mortar, staining it a pinkish red and it slid away from the cooling body. Dru followed it with interest, her face serious, studying the patterns on the floor, reading their secrets and the tales of the dead. Such a pretty little tapestry they wove along in sharp slashes bright against the paleness of the stone. The sun was shining without, but this little treat had seemed to cherish her solitude, an artist's heart all wrapped up in crushed velvet and darkness. It was what called to the vampire and what kept her now, the room all swathed in a muted light, this darkness which prevailed and whispered even still.
The blood spoke tales of death and destruction, betrayal, battle, blood. The world was changing, so far away, but near and coming ever closer. Daddy had set loose a tide that even he could not stop and it was roaring towards him, sweeping away all the old ways that stayed to stand in its path. Senseless death, how that was calling now, screaming across the miles, the darkness from beyond had been unleashed and it grieved , how it grieved, and its pain was like a beautiful aphrodisiac which spanned the distance.
She smiled serenely, eyes flickering over the stains turned poetry, it was time for all sweet boys to get out of bed, great the day. He should have slept away the nighttime like a good little watcher.
"Too late, yes my lovelies, too late now…"