A hand twirled a delicate wine glass, gloved fingers moving over the smooth surface, the bottom being set on a small beaten wood table, thick crimson soon sloshing downward, waves colliding against the clear barrier, the level rising until just below to rim. The liquid soon calmed to be deathly still, the gloved hand cupping it, the thin shaft being slide between two fingers as it was lifted, the dim light illuminating the shine off the surface of the red as equally red eyes stared down in to it. The eyes silently watched as the liquid began to move, swirling about in the glass, caused by the light movements of the hand that held to it. It was almost hypnotic to watch such a beautiful substance dance quietly in an endless circle. The glass was raised, then pale lips catching the side, the liquid being poured back, a small swallow before moving the glass back down. The glass was temporally stained with the thin film that showed the trail of which it flowed, and after a few quick moments, everything was still again.
"It has been a while." The voice, deep, dark, yet with a hint of something, longing almost. "Since I have enjoyed blood such as this."
The empty room gave its silent agree, the candle, placed just to the side on the table was the only light source, its flame standing still with the absence of any wind or draft. Red eyes moved to stare at the black wall, just outside of the halo of light the candle produced.
"Its quiet tonight." Another useless comment to the nothingness around him. Odd how he felt it comforting. The glass was raised again to those dead lips, and another swallow, the thick fluid running through the teeth, sliding effortlessly down the throat.
The glass was softly placed on the small side table, long legs, clad in black, crossed, gloved hands lowering to rest on top of one another on the raised knee. Eyes looked now to the ceiling, cast in the shadows as well.
"Its been some time..Perhaps I am getting too old."
The eyes soon closed after the comment, it had been some time since he was last needed, leaving him in such a horrid place.
"Imagine, such a creature as me confined to this." The words slowly spoken, melted in to the air, leaving nothing in return. Inside the blackness of his closed eyes, images started to form. Old memories of times long past, such images haunted him to no end.
Eyes opened, the red irises looking dull, void of life.
"Why must such tempting images flow so freely." A gloved hand moved upward to the pale face, the silken- covered palm coming to brush against the cold cheek, fingers curling over the face, his body slumping slightly forward.
"Of what I once was, and what am now" He muttered, the hand moving back through his long ebony hair, strands falling forward to lay in front of his eyes.
"Such a thing happening to me." His voice began to raise lightly, having a growling undertone.
"No such thing should happen to the likes of me!" The yell even mildly surprised him, the voice being bounced back by the wall, his eyes wider now as he stared forward. Nothing he did surprised him, yet he did not expect to explode with such emotion.
"Perhaps I am going mad." The statement was hollow-filled, void of any emotion, more of a realization then anything else. The large frame of his body heaved upward in a large sigh before sinking back down, his muscles slowly relaxing from their tensed state.
His head lowered, eyes staring blankly to the floor. The room utterly quiet, not a sound was heard, except for the light intake and exhale of breath. His head started to hurt, and from the hurt to a dull throb. His ears strained to hear any noise, to hear a heartbeat, to hear his heartbeat. And as any other night, nothing was heard.
"No, I am not mad. I am perfectly sane." He stood straight, ashamed of himself for breaking down like that. "I am just over thinking." He reasoned with himself, his hand quickly clutching the wine glass, gulping down a larger mouth full.
His crimson eyes closed slowly, the long arm falling limply to his side, fingers still lightly holding to the glass, the last bit of blood slowly trailing its way down the smooth glass to drip on to the stone floor. His undead mind was reeling, so many things he had yet to grasp a knowledge of. So many things he still did not understand. He hated not knowing something. The train of thought was suddenly derailed as he heard movement upstairs. Silent to anyone else, his heighten vampiric senses could hear soft footsteps. The only tie he had to sanity. He rose from his seat, putting the glass down on the small table, eyes opening once more.
"Perhaps I shall check up on her." He smirked softly, striding from his underground room to the cobblestone hallway, where his body soon rose, materializing through the ceiling, rising upward until the soft plush carpet was pinned beneath his heavy boots. His eyes quickly scanned the room, It being lit by a table lamp, light wisps of smoke twirling through the air. His chest rose as he took a breath, smelling the sweet lavender scent.
"Incense?" His eyebrow rose, this wasn't like her at all.
The door across the room opened, the figure striding in, eyes narrowing at the sight of the vampire. "What are you doing in this room?" Her voice was stern, blonde hair cascading down over her shoulders, looking frizzed from an all too long day at her desk. As tired as she may have been, her eyes still looked strong, at least on the outside.
"Forgive me, Master." His smirk grew. "I got lost, and ended up in here."
The blonde glared, a finger pointing to the door. "Get out. I will not permit you coming in to my personal quarters, and you know that."
He watched her a moment, her arm wavering lightly. Her tiredness was starting to peek through the wall she had mentally put around it. He nodded lightly, his tall form, at least a head taller then her, moved forward, turning sideways to slide past her, a silken glove lightly brushing against her side as he did. She shivered lightly from the touch, her arm dropping. "Please, I'd rather you not touch me."
"Then call it an accident, my master." He spoke with his back to her, just outside of the doorway, a light gust of wind came through as the door was promptly shut behind him. "Goodnight Integral." Once again, he was alone with his thoughts, something he use to treasure was now becoming a burden. He glanced down either side of the long hallway before leaning against the wall next to the door. His arms crossed over his broad chest as he silently stared down at the floor. It had been many years since he had been freed from his cell, yet he was not completely free. At the very thought of such, the ancient scribes on the back of his gloves started to burn.
"Aye, never going to give up." He spoke softly to himself, answering his jumbled thoughts. He stood straight, walking down the hallway back to his "cage" of a room, being rejected so quickly from his master was a daily thing, hardly phased him at all, after all, there would always be tomorrow to pinch at her patience as she worked. He just chuckled lightly, ending it with a sigh.
"Always tomorrow." He seated himself back in his wooden chair, leaning back in it, head hanging limp over the head rest, eyes closing.
His eyes blinked a few times, focusing on the dark stone ceiling that hung above him. He slowly moved to sit upright, his head hanging with slumped shoulders, his joints, stiff from the awkward position, crackled and snapped as he did so. It had been minutes, or hours, since he last opened his eyes. He wasn't sure of how much time had passed.
"Must be close to morning." He spoke lightly, feeling the heaviness of the day light hours wash over him. He soon stood, arms moving behind his head as he twisted, more crackling pops before he looked to his half-way open door. Walking through the silence, he pulled the door open wider and stepped out, sinking in to the un-protected walls of the hallway, his body moving back up, reaching the office. He same up silently through a shadow-ridden corner, his body a mesh of the textures surrounding him. There she sat, like always, hunched over her desk, endlessly working at a paper or report of some sort, none of it mattered to him, seemed a waste of time to do more work after the fact they were dead. Yet she persevered through it all. A smirk crept its way across his unseen features.