Europa Hotel, Belfast

9 May, 2011

17:46—White Album's Perspective

:-:

If one has flesh, one has desires: This is a truth, no matter how disciplined one becomes.

Vampires are those who lost a battle against their flesh and died. Defeat was either forced upon them, or they accepted it over time…before they passed on. The immoralities learned in life are carried into the hereafter.

Turned or born that way; it doesn't matter. Vampires are vampires. Even those born of hybrid blood cannot ignore their desires… It's who they are, no matter how much they try to deny their true selves.

Pleasure… No matter how much I try to hide it, I am a vampire that desires pleasure. Even before I died, I was a fast one.

Any woman I could find, younger, older, it didn't matter.

Most vampires are this way; insatiable whores of little respect. We crave more than blood…more than life.

…This woman with me now…

I had to have her. She is beautiful, and her soul is so ripe.

One moment of sin; a moment in time. Call me disgusting if you will, or gloat in verbal inventions on my behalf… If I don't get my fill, situations like this should be the least of *everyone's* worries.

White Album took a willing young woman of the evening for his own. His body is mostly dead, so the old cleric exercises the least of his existence to retain an erection for her enjoyment… Yes, *her* enjoyment.

He can barely feel a thing because his cellular structure is shot. It's a tragic truth for all true vampires: They don't know the enjoyment of their flesh anymore. It's faint and transient, a cruel teasing of the heart.

"Lord…Kerrigan… I love you…"

He doesn't even know what to say to this mortal woman.

She claims love for someone she barely even knows. It's pathetic to him, almost adorable to the old cleric… But he feels nothing for her.

All he sees…is her soul.

"What is your name, child?" The warmth in his voice halts her straddling, lowers her head and opens her eyes.

She looks into what she can make of his face: Deep browns obscured by the umbra of a dying afternoon sun. It's dark because Father Kerrigan had his windows blocked by hotel maintenance. He *hates* sunlight for more than common belief; because he, as a vampire and necromancer, lives for the night.

"Ja-Janis...hah…" The mortal woman manages to respond, overwhelmed by the vampire's girth, but relishing in it all at once.

Janis? What a darling name.

She seems smitten by me. Perhaps one of my worshipers.

"Are you a Gideonite, child?"

"Yes, Lord Kerrigan, I am."

"—Sleeping your way to the top, are you?"

"N—No, Lord Kerrigan. I…" That was an embarrassing question to be asked. As she is now, Janis seems like an office whore.

But Father Kerrigan needs her for reasons other than sex.

"Janis…"

"Y-Yes, Lord Kerrigan?"

"—I need you." The vampire lays a kiss on her neck, his voice warm and breathy. One peck makes her entire body weak.

"...L-Lord…Kerrigan… I...need you…too… I need you, my lord!"

"Then become one with me."

Upon his word, White Album's existence activates unbeknownst to Janis.

In an instant, her body transmutates: It takes upon a transparent image, and her being then becomes a fading wind that merges with White Album's soul.

I needed her love. My one true desire.

Janis, you may love me forever, safe in my heart.

A vampire cannot resist their desires, no matter how much they try. It's inevitable; a battle that always ends in their defeat.

Janis, like many others before her, has become a part of White Album. She has been collected for a greater purpose. As she is now, Janis is safe within the old vampire, sound asleep… A sleep quieter, colder and darker than death.

I must become strong enough to destroy both the sun *and* the moon. For that reason alone, I need an abundance of souls.

Janis, thank you.

Your love has given me that much more of a chance. I promise…I won't let your feelings be in vain. And for what it's worth… I actually feel sorry about this.

I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me… Janis.

With Dead Motion out in the field, White Album can rest easily.

The sibling headhunters are feared for their multitude of assassinations. Over 1000: A number pursued by many, and achieved by few.

The "few" is Dead Motion themselves.

White Album has done everything he can to help them, but his lord is a ravenous and frigid old soul: Should they fail their contracts in any way, their people, the Oti, would be manufactured, sold and marketed worldwide. That's something White Album refuses to allow because…to him…

I won't let your people die, boys. I've committed many sins in my tenure, but my heart found a place with the Oti; with you.

This one tribe… I can't afford to lose them.

For the first time in my career, I'm doing things I shouldn't be doing at all. I'm defying my lord and risking my life for you. D. Remedy, Li'l Thrill, please…

—You must fight. You *must* win.

Kill the traitor and report back to me. Paddington has long since been our enemy, and it's about time he met his end… Those two changed his heart; Frederic and Maribel. They changed him more than he already did…because of *those* people. We thought he learned his lesson, but…he didn't.

So this must be done. No matter how much I *hate* him, it's still not right, and what we're doing is more sinful than loving a human… No matter how much it hurts, kill him. It's for the best—for all of us.

White Album doesn't even know what to make of himself anymore. His methods are contradicting because…in a way…he too is changing.

Even the darkest heart has the ability to care for others. And everyone has their reasons for doing the things that they do; moral or immoral. Still, one can only wonder how far White Album's love will go.