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With Gaping Maw

The cold ground permeates Aedwaerth's calloused feet as he strides into the pitch stillness, and the thick pads pricked with what could have been fire or ice. He almost immediately regrets his decision to leave the warmth of his pallet and the fires, only vaguely recalling why he got up in the first place. Prideful fool! What reason could I possibly have for being out here? Despite his self-flagellation, he continues on into the darkness, for reasons beyond his own understanding. He only knows he can hear his name on the wind, irrefutable and alluring. Having been blessed with acute senses, it takes roughly 20 paces outside the fires for his eyes to adjust to the nearly non-existent light provided by the stars. He weaves his way into the edge of the old forest, sidestepping birch, aspen and pine, ducking below branches and guiding his hands along the trunks of each tree he passes. He moves like a gentle breeze, sinuous and smooth. When his graceful movements split the most recent battle wound at his side, he curses and he can feel the blood seeping, soaking into the deerskin at his waist. As he stops to wipe at the wound with his hand, he catches a pale form in his peripheral vision and drops, facing the enemy, into a fighting crouch. His bloody right hand goes over his left shoulder, where his sword should be but isn't, and he somehow knows it's useless anyway.

Tanya watches, mimicking his movements with superior fluidity from a safe distance of 200 paces. She has been watching for years now. And she sees in Aedwaerth all that she desires.

***

She arrived in Britain as the consort of Constantine III, after meeting and seducing him in Italy. He was a Roman soldier of some renown at the time of their initial acquaintance, and under her tutelage (for he was not even remotely intelligent) he won the regard and allegiance of his men, quickly asserting himself as the heir apparent for commander of the legion. It was his insubstantial intellect, and her alternative drinking habits which allowed her to avoid exposure as something other for so long. It was an ideal situation for her, in that she could exert considerable influence over the affairs of men for a length of time, in addition to receiving extensive amorous advances from a physically fit, if somewhat boorish, Legionnaire. This is a deviation from her typical love-em-to-death routine for no other reason than boredom. The eternity that stretches out before her seems daunting without occasional, mindless forays into the human world.

When Constantine III gets elevated to the status of earth-bound-god cum Emperor of Rome, she leaves him. Not the typical progression of relationships in the pre-middle ages, but, then again, nothing is typical about vampirism. And Tanya has zero interest in tolerating the human's ever burgeoning ego. So for the next few dozen years she reverts to her ways as the Succubus, inciting ecstasy, deriving pleasure, crushing pelvises, and exsanguinating bodies. So she wanders, taking in the sights, sounds and flavors of Iron-Age Britain, known then as Pryden, and she is satisfied.

Fulfilled in her existence, she was not prepared for the paradigm-shift she experienced upon seeing a naked 17-yr-old Caledonii named Aedwaerth jogging through the forest on his first day of the King's trials. Young, lithe muscle rippled over his back and legs as he loped quickly, for a human, through the forest. Finally, she thought, here is a man worthy of my attentions.

So instead of taking him on the spot, she followed him at an undetectable distance, impressed more by the hour as his survival skills earned him food, clothing, warmth, and eventually the regard and kingship of his people. After a few weeks of rigorous language immersion, during which she extricates the appropriate dialect, vernacular and syntax from a few remotely located and all-too-willing farmers, she begins her observations in earnest. She watched him mature into a wise and magnificent king, preternaturally gifted killer, and flawless physical specimen. And she knew there was something more to him than other humans. She listened in on his Kingly mediation duties, amazed at how quickly and judiciously he resolved conflicts between angry and obdurate villagers. She watched his battles with little fear for his life, given his ability to seemingly anticipate his opponent's maneuvers. Gifts of such magnitude were uncommon for humans, but those that were changed showing more than latent gifts became formidable vampires. So after six years of intermittently following Aedwaerth Caledonii, Tanya came to a decision: to change him, and own him.

***

When she smells the blood, she knows it is time. In truth, it is past time, and she has only restrained herself this long because she knew there was no way she could get close to him without taking everything. And despite imagining this moment for years and knowing his arcane and lilting language she doesn't know what she will say to him. She only knows that their confrontation will end in a bite, and three days of agony for her Aedwaerth. She'd like to have his human body, too, but she's hesitant given the last half-decade of hard, habit forming humping.

She approaches him slowly for her, and to Aedwaerth it seems like a frolicking goddess has decided to scare him senseless on his ill-advised piss. In perhaps a self-perpetuating cycle, a blissful moment passes where he is caught up in her beauty and vice versa. Moonlight illuminates her every step, and her tunic is caked with mud from the ground up. It looks like she grew from the earth. Clearer every smooth step towards him, he can begin to outline the curve of her body as it shifts under the fabric. About 50 paces away, his former fear pricks at his neck and it's her body's motions which ignite and accentuate his dread. He knows women, has lived with them, loved one, left plenty, but these are not the movements of any thing he has seen. The moment his fear returns, and Tanya sees it, she removes all human pretenses and simply appears at his side.

Aedwaerth's pagan upbringing allows for a myriad of fantastical creatures, but not her. Tanya's simple presence is conjuring a near panic-attack coupled with inexplicable and graphic images of them coupling, running side-by-side, and then one bloody image, with her at his neck, he can't place. While his body has invoked the flight response, his mind, awash in so much adrenaline, is frozen stiff; he can barely process her frigid digits pulling his right hand into her mouth. And as he stares into her blood red eyes, his hand distending her cheek, the last image falls into place like the last brown leaf before winter. I am that leaf; inevitably dead. And she lunges with gaping maw.

heh... some of you thought there might be dialogue eh? nope. not yet.