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Erik II - A cry in the night
Yet, that night, a cry pierced the sky, with an intensity he hadn't felt in so very, very long.
A cry for help, a longing for peace, and he felt drawn to it, hunger forgotten, everything else forgotten.
He'd always moved like the shadows, kept to the dark and silent - becoming a vampire had only ever improved that.
It was so he approached the voice, silvery and bright, echoing from a rooftop.
He'd long thought the house abandoned, as there was no one there during the year. There had been people, long ago, or was it just a few years ago? He couldn't remember.
Time flowed differently now.
He tried to think. No. He'd never noticed that house before. Never noticed the young woman on its roof, singing her heart out. It made his heart ache, and his throat seize with thirst.
Still, he didn't move. Stayed far, far away, just enough to listen to her, but not nearly enough for a mere human to feel his presence.
What was it she was singing? He didn't know that song. Of course, he hadn't really stayed up to date on these things. Music these days didn't have the magnificence and opulence he was used to. There was nothing he'd liked more than full orchestras, and they had become scarce.
Still, the Internet had been a useful invention, allowing him to wallow in his memories, blasting symphonies long in the night, finding the ones worthy of his keen ears.
But this, even a cappella, riding on the wind, stirred his imagination. The words spoke to him.
I love you.
I miss you.
It shouldn't have, not when it'd been so long ago, but he couldn't help it.
He remained there, listening, until he felt his skin begin to tingle. The sun would soon appear, and she'd stopped singing. Dawn was near, and he still hadn't eaten.
He had to go back to his castle, and he'd eat the next day. After all, he wasn't that thirsty, drunk on her song, and her voice.
He flew back to his darkened rooms, fleeing the first rays of the sun, and lay down in his coffin, his ears still ringing with her voice.
The next night, he went to eat, finding a young man walking back home, and only took a little. It wasn't the best blood he'd tasted, far from it, but it was clean and warm, and it soothed the thirst, letting him free to do what he willed during the next hours.
How he hated summer, with its small precious hours of darkness he couldn't waste, but she was there, again, on her roof, singing and crying both.
He couldn't cry anymore himself. His horrible face would distort and grimace, but the tears themselves would never fall again.
From his position, hidden from the moon, he could see hers, tracing silver paths on her golden cheeks. She was beautiful.
Why was she crying tonight? Who – or what? – had torn out her heart?
He felt drawn to her, again. It was a most peculiar feeling, after so long, but he could see something, somehow.
Just like the night before, he stayed there, listening to her song.
Forgotten, the dreams of music. There was only her voice, pure and ethereal. She had freshness he hadn't heard in a century. Talent he'd thought he'd never hear again.
But she wasn't Christine, of course.
And still…
Would he repeat the story?
NO.
No.
He had to move on, to go away, never to come back.
But it was too late.
He remained there, and the night after that, and the next.
She seemed to draw him out from his numbness, awoke things he'd sworn to let go.
It would end badly, he knew it.
But despite the century, it seemed he hadn't learnt his lesson. No matter what, he was attracted by beauty and music, and could never resist the siren's call.
This time, she didn't need any more training, the way She had, long ago. Her voice had all the beauty she needed, all the control and the power and the clarity she could desire. He couldn't understand why in the heavens she was still here, as young and talented as she was, and not on a stage, ravishing and stunning audience after audience, winning hearts and souls.
Had they become so deaf in his years in exile, that they couldn't recognize beauty when it fell on their laps?
That injustice was enough to pour oil on the embers of his heart. He had a mission, now. He had to know, if nothing else. Make her see her potential, and then, then…
Then he'd return to his exile, death and silence and pain.
*-* Christine II – A sight in the night
She had sung the night away, and fallen asleep again, on the roof. The next morning, her hunger had woken her, and she'd gone to buy more food.
That same evening, she stood on her roof again, her voice clear and strong as she sang, eyes fixed on the moon and stars. The tears flowed anew, but she didn't dry them. There was no point, when they came at the slightest emotion her songs evoked.
She didn't even know why, at this point. Was it her father's death, her memories from happier times brought up again by coming back here?
Was it her boyfriend's departure for the Sea, leaving her free, or alone, depending on who you asked?
Or her latest failure, despite her years of work to succeed where she thought she belonged, on a stage, singing and acting? Few places, few were chosen, but she'd always believed she'd be part of them.
Now it hurt again, and her voice took on a more sorrowful color. She shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself, not again, but after years, literally, of being strong and told to move on, to stop taking things so deeply to heart, perhaps now the time had come to let herself feel things, truly, away from the eyes of people who'd never felt like this, who thought they knew what she was going through, but they didn't.
They couldn't.
They meant well, of course, but they didn't live her life. Didn't feel like she did.
Didn't have the nightmares, and the blood curdling screams during the nights.
That was perhaps, why she kept singing there, where no one would judge her, no one would stop her.
And despite it all, it felt right.
Like maybe she was meant to be there, for once.
It came on the fifth night, when she warmed up her voice, just before she started to sing. She could feel something. A slight tingle in the air, a movement, deep in the shadows. It caught her eyes, and she stopped.
That was when she saw him for the first time.
His eyes, piercing the darkness, golden and bright, like two points of light, almost a cat's.
That was what she believed they were, at the beginning, until their stillness and their intelligence shattered that thought.
There was someone out there, watching her, and her heart beat faster. Whatever he was, he'd been hearing her, and embarrassment came out, red cheeks and clammy hands. She shouldn't feel that way still, after all the time she'd spent being praised for her voice in years past. Being refused at the Opera House didn't make her voice any less beautiful or a thing to be ashamed of.
But someone was watching her and she didn't know who and…
He moved.
Barely an inch, but it was dark and she could see it, in the moonlight, he was coming closer.
"Who are you?" she asked, then, bold and perhaps a little risky, after all, in these parts, there were hardly any good people at night, but she belonged there and had never had any cause to fear.
He did not answer, but also stopped moving.
She could see a silhouette now, when there was only slightly more than a shape against the vineyard.
He must have been a man, for how tall and thin he was, dark and still, almost looming towards her. He was looking at her, his eyes always golden and bright.
"Who are you?" she repeated, a bit stronger now, and she was leaning towards him as well, trying to get a better look at him.
And then in a twirl of cloak he was gone.
The spell was broken, the night feeling alive and vibrant once more, animals crawling on the green and brown soil, wind rocking the trees, and humming in the bushes.
Her heart was still racing, though.
She came back inside, not feeling quite safe up there anymore. It was late, after all. The dawn was approaching.
She fell on her bed, still clothed, eyes on the teddy bear on her windowsill. He was looking at her with his mismatched eyes, and the familiarity of a thousand such nights soothed her heart, and let her fall asleep, as the first rays of the sun caressed her skin.