Adoile IV Awakening
She awoke, slowly, a horrible unfamiliarity creeping through her body, furrowing her brow deeply before she even opened her eyes. She did not know where she was, was not even sure who she was. Had she been dreaming? Was she still ill?
She opened her eyes, and saw him, looking down on her with his fiery, yellow eyes. She remembered, with difficulty, the night before. Waking from pain, being cradled by him, his soft voice whispering kind words. He had bathed her, this beauteous, inhuman man, and she flushed furiously at the thought. He had washed the dirt from her skin, shamelessly touching her with his cloven, surprisingly tender hands.
His full, black lips spread into a smile now. "Good evening, my child," he said softly.
She sat up, drawing the covers around her. He had let her sleep in his bed, she remembered. She was still wearing the shift she had been given yesterday, after her bath. She remembered what he had told her then, about blood, and death, and the gift he had given her. "Father..." she whispered.
He laughed briefly. "Please, call me Raziel," he said.
She reached out to touch him. His skin looked solid, as if he had been carved out of ivory, and yet his face was lively. Her fingers traced the curve of his brow, his gaunt cheek, mesmerised. He was cool to the touch, and his skin felt like wood, firm, but alive. He turned his head into the palm of her hand, and she traced her fingers over his lips, so dark, so greedy. "Raziel," she said. "Good evening, Raziel." He kissed her palm and took her slim wrist into his clawed hand.
Suddenly, his head snapped round to the door, as if he'd heard something she had not. His manner stiffened immediately. "Come, it is past sundown, " he said, standing up. "I have much to show you."
Clumsily, she slipped out from the protective covers to put on the clothes he had laid out for her on a bedside table. He sat on the bed and watched her calmly. She felt confused, he had seen all the night before, and besides, he was her father. Yet, she felt embarrassed to be undressed before him, ashamed and at the same time strangely exited. She slipped into the simple black dress, and tied the cincture at the back. It had been made for a woman with a much larger bosom, but fit her fairly well besides. She looked at him to gauge his reaction, and he smiled, his sharp teeth glistening in the torch-light. He opened the door, and she followed him outside, bare feet on rich, red carpet.
The room the door led into was long and spacious, with a large window at the end. It was lit with scores of candles, and lavishly decorated with drapes and paintings. There was a woman standing in the middle of the room, a vampire woman, with deep brown, wavy hair and a velvety dress of red and dark blue. She had her hands clasped in front of her, the attitude of one waiting patiently, but she looked at Raziel with a little smirk.
"Were you going to introduce us at all, or were you planning to keep her all to yourself?" she asked teasingly.
"Rusanna, meet Adoile," Raziel said stiffly.
The woman took a step forward and offered her hand, palm facing downwards. When Adoile took it, she curtsied deeply and introduced herself, "Rusanna Sophia Raziela vie Candadis, at your service." Adoile glanced at Raziel. She only had one name, as far as she knew.
"Adoile Raziela," Rusanna said, "it is a pleasure to meet you. I hope we shall be friends as well as sisters."
Adoile felt her father's strong hand on her shoulder, pulling her away from Rusanna by just a fraction. "Rusanna is my daughter's daughter," he explained, "she generally takes care of the initial education of our young."
"Generally, my Lord?" Rusanna asked, mildly alarmed.
"I will instruct Adoile myself, Rusanna. I have a special position in mind for her."
"As you wish," the woman said and curtsied again. Adoile could hear the disappointment in her voice though, and there was a flash of something dangerous in her eyes. "But I do fear you dote on her too much, my Lord. You would spoil her character." She reached out and touched Adoile's hair. Her hands were clawed, like his, but the touch was cold, almost hostile.
"Don't you worry yourself over that, child," Raziel chided her and opened the door as an invitation for her to leave. With another nod, she left. Raziel looked over his shoulder at Adoile, and smiled. He gestured for her to follow and went out into the hall. "Rusanna was a noblewoman in life," he explained as they walked through the hallway. "She attaches much value to proper etiquette, and to lineage. As my daughter, you are her better, as young as you are. Others may not see things the same way though, in many situations experience counts more heavily than lineage. Nonetheless, all should treat you with respect. I wish to hear if they do not." He glanced at her briefly, and she nodded, trying to take in everything he said. They descended a long flight of stairs into a large courtyard. They passed others, vampires all, who regarded her curiously, or nodded and bowed to them. She stuck to Raziel like a shadow, as he led her on through corridors and hallways. "I have already told you what you are. In life, you feared our kind, perhaps, and not without reason. Your dead body requires a blood-sacrifice to animate and restore itself. Your soul, the part of you that was never dead, has grown much stronger by its stay in the underworld, but it will need blood to sustain its life here. You will need to drink a little each night, or suffer terrible pains. It is a small matter though; you will get used to it soon enough."
Adoile looked up at him, his noble profile, the look of perfect confidence on his face. She knew, dimly, that she had drunk his blood the night before, but she remembered neither the taste of it, nor the sensation. It bewildered her that the prospect of drinking blood appealed to her so much. It should have repelled her, but instead it seemed like the most natural thing, and she knew she would indeed get used to it soon. In fact, she couldn't wait.
"You are young yet, and vulnerable." Raziel continued. "For now, you will stay inside the keep, where rain nor sunlight will be able to find you. I will provide you with sustenance, and a place to rest during the day." He put his hand on her shoulder again and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I will keep you safe." It seemed like an echo. /I have the warmth you seek, I will keep you safe.../ She remembered his voice, but it seemed this was a long time ago, in another lifetime, almost...
They climbed another flight of stairs, spiraling up into one of the towers. Raziel's voice echoed in the ancient stone staircase, the steps worn and rough. This part of the castle seemed very different to the rest.
"It is time for a history lesson, first of all."
She awoke, slowly, a horrible unfamiliarity creeping through her body, furrowing her brow deeply before she even opened her eyes. She did not know where she was, was not even sure who she was. Had she been dreaming? Was she still ill?
She opened her eyes, and saw him, looking down on her with his fiery, yellow eyes. She remembered, with difficulty, the night before. Waking from pain, being cradled by him, his soft voice whispering kind words. He had bathed her, this beauteous, inhuman man, and she flushed furiously at the thought. He had washed the dirt from her skin, shamelessly touching her with his cloven, surprisingly tender hands.
His full, black lips spread into a smile now. "Good evening, my child," he said softly.
She sat up, drawing the covers around her. He had let her sleep in his bed, she remembered. She was still wearing the shift she had been given yesterday, after her bath. She remembered what he had told her then, about blood, and death, and the gift he had given her. "Father..." she whispered.
He laughed briefly. "Please, call me Raziel," he said.
She reached out to touch him. His skin looked solid, as if he had been carved out of ivory, and yet his face was lively. Her fingers traced the curve of his brow, his gaunt cheek, mesmerised. He was cool to the touch, and his skin felt like wood, firm, but alive. He turned his head into the palm of her hand, and she traced her fingers over his lips, so dark, so greedy. "Raziel," she said. "Good evening, Raziel." He kissed her palm and took her slim wrist into his clawed hand.
Suddenly, his head snapped round to the door, as if he'd heard something she had not. His manner stiffened immediately. "Come, it is past sundown, " he said, standing up. "I have much to show you."
Clumsily, she slipped out from the protective covers to put on the clothes he had laid out for her on a bedside table. He sat on the bed and watched her calmly. She felt confused, he had seen all the night before, and besides, he was her father. Yet, she felt embarrassed to be undressed before him, ashamed and at the same time strangely exited. She slipped into the simple black dress, and tied the cincture at the back. It had been made for a woman with a much larger bosom, but fit her fairly well besides. She looked at him to gauge his reaction, and he smiled, his sharp teeth glistening in the torch-light. He opened the door, and she followed him outside, bare feet on rich, red carpet.
The room the door led into was long and spacious, with a large window at the end. It was lit with scores of candles, and lavishly decorated with drapes and paintings. There was a woman standing in the middle of the room, a vampire woman, with deep brown, wavy hair and a velvety dress of red and dark blue. She had her hands clasped in front of her, the attitude of one waiting patiently, but she looked at Raziel with a little smirk.
"Were you going to introduce us at all, or were you planning to keep her all to yourself?" she asked teasingly.
"Rusanna, meet Adoile," Raziel said stiffly.
The woman took a step forward and offered her hand, palm facing downwards. When Adoile took it, she curtsied deeply and introduced herself, "Rusanna Sophia Raziela vie Candadis, at your service." Adoile glanced at Raziel. She only had one name, as far as she knew.
"Adoile Raziela," Rusanna said, "it is a pleasure to meet you. I hope we shall be friends as well as sisters."
Adoile felt her father's strong hand on her shoulder, pulling her away from Rusanna by just a fraction. "Rusanna is my daughter's daughter," he explained, "she generally takes care of the initial education of our young."
"Generally, my Lord?" Rusanna asked, mildly alarmed.
"I will instruct Adoile myself, Rusanna. I have a special position in mind for her."
"As you wish," the woman said and curtsied again. Adoile could hear the disappointment in her voice though, and there was a flash of something dangerous in her eyes. "But I do fear you dote on her too much, my Lord. You would spoil her character." She reached out and touched Adoile's hair. Her hands were clawed, like his, but the touch was cold, almost hostile.
"Don't you worry yourself over that, child," Raziel chided her and opened the door as an invitation for her to leave. With another nod, she left. Raziel looked over his shoulder at Adoile, and smiled. He gestured for her to follow and went out into the hall. "Rusanna was a noblewoman in life," he explained as they walked through the hallway. "She attaches much value to proper etiquette, and to lineage. As my daughter, you are her better, as young as you are. Others may not see things the same way though, in many situations experience counts more heavily than lineage. Nonetheless, all should treat you with respect. I wish to hear if they do not." He glanced at her briefly, and she nodded, trying to take in everything he said. They descended a long flight of stairs into a large courtyard. They passed others, vampires all, who regarded her curiously, or nodded and bowed to them. She stuck to Raziel like a shadow, as he led her on through corridors and hallways. "I have already told you what you are. In life, you feared our kind, perhaps, and not without reason. Your dead body requires a blood-sacrifice to animate and restore itself. Your soul, the part of you that was never dead, has grown much stronger by its stay in the underworld, but it will need blood to sustain its life here. You will need to drink a little each night, or suffer terrible pains. It is a small matter though; you will get used to it soon enough."
Adoile looked up at him, his noble profile, the look of perfect confidence on his face. She knew, dimly, that she had drunk his blood the night before, but she remembered neither the taste of it, nor the sensation. It bewildered her that the prospect of drinking blood appealed to her so much. It should have repelled her, but instead it seemed like the most natural thing, and she knew she would indeed get used to it soon. In fact, she couldn't wait.
"You are young yet, and vulnerable." Raziel continued. "For now, you will stay inside the keep, where rain nor sunlight will be able to find you. I will provide you with sustenance, and a place to rest during the day." He put his hand on her shoulder again and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I will keep you safe." It seemed like an echo. /I have the warmth you seek, I will keep you safe.../ She remembered his voice, but it seemed this was a long time ago, in another lifetime, almost...
They climbed another flight of stairs, spiraling up into one of the towers. Raziel's voice echoed in the ancient stone staircase, the steps worn and rough. This part of the castle seemed very different to the rest.
"It is time for a history lesson, first of all."