Chapter 115: 115
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All at once Soren freezes. My question wavers in the are between us, quelling us both into an unnatural silence, dread and unease settling upon me like a thick frost. His hands linger at my waist, eyes not quite meeting mine, as though he fears what he might see there: a raging beast, or a soul slipping into the depths of despair. Neither seem like a particularly favourable option.
He looks like he wants to say something, his lips moving in silent speech, but the words don't fully come out, a faint smile playing on his lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Whatever 'decision' he has made, it is obviously one he has hesitations about telling me.
The thought of that doesn't exactly sit well on my conscience.
Instead, in true vampire fashion, he remains quiet, pondering, lips pursed together to form an impossible to break silence. Seeing I will be getting nothing from him, reluctantly I sink back into myself, the strength of my body already sapping away like water down a drain.
"Please tell me," I whisper, so softly that I half expect him not to hear it. Soren's eyes flicker upwards, capturing mine with a mix of sorrow and regret, golden irises swimming with an unfathomable pain. Another long moment of silence.
"I know how to save you," he murmurs at last, brushing a hand over my cheek, savouring the warmth that resides there. He breathes a gentle sigh. "But I can't guarantee that you won't hate me for it."
Before I can voice my concerns, the vampire Prince helps me to stand. I watch with dizzy fascination as Soren slips a pair of trousers on me, steeling himself against the potent smell of blood that arises from my body like the heat of the sun on a hot summer's day, and inescapable aura that no shade nor water can help you fully escape from. My head spins sickeningly.
"Hate you, why would I-"
A searing pain runs through my back, shooting down my spine in such a manner that causes me to double over in pain. The pain is quickly followed by that stomach turning familiar trickle of warm that leaks down my back and a frenzied tearing of skin- the wounds on my back tearing open under the strain of my movement.
I cry out.
It wouldn't take a genius to realise my body is already unreasonably weak, this might just be the last straw. My legs shake, my body beginning to tremble and-
"Fuck, Serena, no no no get up!"
Soren stumbles to grab a hold of me as I crumble beneath his hands, my knees buckling from the sheer amount of strength that has been sapped from my already weak and mortal bones. Azrael had certainly let the vampire take her ample time in tearing open holes in my back, her keen instincts of a predator allowing her to rip me open at just the right place to bleed the most, knowing which tendon to pull, which muscle to rip to inflict the most pain. If killing could be considered a craft, she would have carried it out with flying colours. Even under stasis, I find it incredibly difficult to believe I survived five minutes let alone two days.
A small part of me knows that to die now, to give up on all this pain and suffering would dash away all the work I have done for the world; Azrael would continue being a menace, Soren would spiral into bitter hatred and loathsome mourning, and the feud between vampires and angels would never be resolved. But sinking into that blackness, which now presents itself as more of a friend and less of a foe, seems so easy, so much so that I find myself thinking that to give up now would be a great relief.
Maybe I should just die after all.
Whatever potion Soren put on my back, whatever amount of medicine he laid on to seal off my wounds or that strange golden liquid he had poured down my throat, there is no denying the fact my body has lost a lot of blood. And a lot may just be enough.
"Hey, hey, hey, look at me, Serena," he begs as I feel my eyes begin to flutter shut, my body weak and straining against all hope to keep itself alive as I launch into fits of shivering cold, but the efforts are futile. Perhaps the only thing left tying me to this world is Soren's grip on my body, and the compelling urgency of his voice calling me back from the darkness I so desperately want to submerge myself into.
"Dammit Serena, open your eyes," he begs again, his voice cracking with a heart wrenching sorrow.
The sound of it is enough for my eyes to barely flicker open. Against the blackness that stalks the edge of my vision, and the heaviness of my eyelids threatening to close at any second, I can make out the worried gold sparkling in the depths of his eyes, veiled by a thin parting of messy brown hair that appears almost black under the lighting. Through fits of trembling, half conscious, I whisper:
"So… pretty." Soren shakes his head, laughing hysterically, choked with something that I can only think must be tears.
"Don't you dare die, don't-" he stops, his face going blank as slate, as though some ghost or strange apparition has possessed his body into a state of utter nothingness. Then after a few seconds of that chilling, empty look, he presses me closer into his chest, as if anxious that I might suddenly slip from his grasp.
"Serena," he murmurs anxiously, slowly now, bringing his eyes up to meet mine with a burning intensity that I have rarely been privy to. "There is something I must do, it might be the only way to save you. I have given you a serum, it should help stop you from… from-" he stops for a moment to shake his head, and I could have sworn that under the strenuous fearfulness in his eyes, I see a glimmer of a tear slipping down his cheek. With a hard swallow, he continues.
"You are going to hate me for this, but I know you can fight it, I know you can," he whispers mournfully, pressing the back of his hand to my cheek lightly, caressing the side of my face with such a look of concern that even in my state of collapse, I have enough energy in me to feel a pang of alarm. There is something off about his tone. Some horrible truth that lies within the depths of his voice.
"S-Soren?" I croak pitifully as he picks me up fully, setting us down on a nearby velvety red couch, letting me lay across him, my head supported carefully by one arm, and with his other arm, he brings up his wrist to his mouth. My eyes grow wide.
"Soren?" I repeat, only with a little more urgency this time, panic conducting what little emotion my body has left into a tense confusion, urging me to move, to run. But my body, my useless, feeble, mortal body, is too damaged to barely even move my lips, let alone my limbs. It is all I can do but watch in horror as Soren bites down on his wrist, blood flowing in rivulets of pouring red, trickling down his wintry skin. My eyes grow large.
So this is how I die.
"N-no Soren I don't want to-"
He cuts me off.
"Do not worry, my dear. It will be okay, I know how to save you," he says softly, almost trance like as he raises his wrist, blood streaming like trickling red waterfalls down the ghostly pallor of his skin. I shake my head, pursing my lips furiously as I screw my eyes up against the inevitable.
Taking Soren's blood would be a fate worse than death. For while my dreams as a child often involved dancing with these strange, seductive creatures long into the night, feasting on wines and loving and kissing, filled with the vivacious passion of quite literally dancing with death, there is a fact I have always established deep in the depths of my mind. It was a fact that even my small, five year old self could understand, and one that I would frequently remind myself of when staring out across my balcony on a warm summers night. For while I had always wanted to be like them in every other sense, I knew that no matter what, I could never, ever, become one.
There would be no place in Faey for a fallen angel. There would be no place for me at all. But of course, Soren won't understand. I haven't told him what I am, he doesn't know what it will do to me, he is just trying to help. My protests are futile. I let out a small sob.
This is what you meant, I call out to him in my head, my voice ringing out against the shallow emptiness of my mind. This is what you meant when you had to make a decision.
A little surprisingly, he answers, his voice sinking into that lulling honeyed caress that soothes my anxieties, my worries with a single soft sweep of my mind.
I never wanted to do this to you. But it is the only way. You can fight it Serena, I know you can. You do not have to become like me.
If I had the strength, I might have screamed. No one can fight a vampire's blood, no one can fight the transformation. Not even a soul. Not even me.
A vampire's blood is that of a death sentence, and one that comes all too swiftly.
The looming reality that there is no way I can rightly escape this either unchanged or alive hits me like a mace to the stomach- after all, my fate was sealed the moment Soren decided this would be the way to save me.. I am to become a monster.
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All at once Soren freezes. My question wavers in the are between us, quelling us both into an unnatural silence, dread and unease settling upon me like a thick frost. His hands linger at my waist, eyes not quite meeting mine, as though he fears what he might see there: a raging beast, or a soul slipping into the depths of despair. Neither seem like a particularly favourable option.
He looks like he wants to say something, his lips moving in silent speech, but the words don't fully come out, a faint smile playing on his lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Whatever 'decision' he has made, it is obviously one he has hesitations about telling me.
The thought of that doesn't exactly sit well on my conscience.
Instead, in true vampire fashion, he remains quiet, pondering, lips pursed together to form an impossible to break silence. Seeing I will be getting nothing from him, reluctantly I sink back into myself, the strength of my body already sapping away like water down a drain.
"Please tell me," I whisper, so softly that I half expect him not to hear it. Soren's eyes flicker upwards, capturing mine with a mix of sorrow and regret, golden irises swimming with an unfathomable pain. Another long moment of silence.
"I know how to save you," he murmurs at last, brushing a hand over my cheek, savouring the warmth that resides there. He breathes a gentle sigh. "But I can't guarantee that you won't hate me for it."
Before I can voice my concerns, the vampire Prince helps me to stand. I watch with dizzy fascination as Soren slips a pair of trousers on me, steeling himself against the potent smell of blood that arises from my body like the heat of the sun on a hot summer's day, and inescapable aura that no shade nor water can help you fully escape from. My head spins sickeningly.
"Hate you, why would I-"
A searing pain runs through my back, shooting down my spine in such a manner that causes me to double over in pain. The pain is quickly followed by that stomach turning familiar trickle of warm that leaks down my back and a frenzied tearing of skin- the wounds on my back tearing open under the strain of my movement.
I cry out.
It wouldn't take a genius to realise my body is already unreasonably weak, this might just be the last straw. My legs shake, my body beginning to tremble and-
"Fuck, Serena, no no no get up!"
Soren stumbles to grab a hold of me as I crumble beneath his hands, my knees buckling from the sheer amount of strength that has been sapped from my already weak and mortal bones. Azrael had certainly let the vampire take her ample time in tearing open holes in my back, her keen instincts of a predator allowing her to rip me open at just the right place to bleed the most, knowing which tendon to pull, which muscle to rip to inflict the most pain. If killing could be considered a craft, she would have carried it out with flying colours. Even under stasis, I find it incredibly difficult to believe I survived five minutes let alone two days.
A small part of me knows that to die now, to give up on all this pain and suffering would dash away all the work I have done for the world; Azrael would continue being a menace, Soren would spiral into bitter hatred and loathsome mourning, and the feud between vampires and angels would never be resolved. But sinking into that blackness, which now presents itself as more of a friend and less of a foe, seems so easy, so much so that I find myself thinking that to give up now would be a great relief.
Maybe I should just die after all.
Whatever potion Soren put on my back, whatever amount of medicine he laid on to seal off my wounds or that strange golden liquid he had poured down my throat, there is no denying the fact my body has lost a lot of blood. And a lot may just be enough.
"Hey, hey, hey, look at me, Serena," he begs as I feel my eyes begin to flutter shut, my body weak and straining against all hope to keep itself alive as I launch into fits of shivering cold, but the efforts are futile. Perhaps the only thing left tying me to this world is Soren's grip on my body, and the compelling urgency of his voice calling me back from the darkness I so desperately want to submerge myself into.
"Dammit Serena, open your eyes," he begs again, his voice cracking with a heart wrenching sorrow.
The sound of it is enough for my eyes to barely flicker open. Against the blackness that stalks the edge of my vision, and the heaviness of my eyelids threatening to close at any second, I can make out the worried gold sparkling in the depths of his eyes, veiled by a thin parting of messy brown hair that appears almost black under the lighting. Through fits of trembling, half conscious, I whisper:
"So… pretty." Soren shakes his head, laughing hysterically, choked with something that I can only think must be tears.
"Don't you dare die, don't-" he stops, his face going blank as slate, as though some ghost or strange apparition has possessed his body into a state of utter nothingness. Then after a few seconds of that chilling, empty look, he presses me closer into his chest, as if anxious that I might suddenly slip from his grasp.
"Serena," he murmurs anxiously, slowly now, bringing his eyes up to meet mine with a burning intensity that I have rarely been privy to. "There is something I must do, it might be the only way to save you. I have given you a serum, it should help stop you from… from-" he stops for a moment to shake his head, and I could have sworn that under the strenuous fearfulness in his eyes, I see a glimmer of a tear slipping down his cheek. With a hard swallow, he continues.
"You are going to hate me for this, but I know you can fight it, I know you can," he whispers mournfully, pressing the back of his hand to my cheek lightly, caressing the side of my face with such a look of concern that even in my state of collapse, I have enough energy in me to feel a pang of alarm. There is something off about his tone. Some horrible truth that lies within the depths of his voice.
"S-Soren?" I croak pitifully as he picks me up fully, setting us down on a nearby velvety red couch, letting me lay across him, my head supported carefully by one arm, and with his other arm, he brings up his wrist to his mouth. My eyes grow wide.
"Soren?" I repeat, only with a little more urgency this time, panic conducting what little emotion my body has left into a tense confusion, urging me to move, to run. But my body, my useless, feeble, mortal body, is too damaged to barely even move my lips, let alone my limbs. It is all I can do but watch in horror as Soren bites down on his wrist, blood flowing in rivulets of pouring red, trickling down his wintry skin. My eyes grow large.
So this is how I die.
"N-no Soren I don't want to-"
He cuts me off.
"Do not worry, my dear. It will be okay, I know how to save you," he says softly, almost trance like as he raises his wrist, blood streaming like trickling red waterfalls down the ghostly pallor of his skin. I shake my head, pursing my lips furiously as I screw my eyes up against the inevitable.
Taking Soren's blood would be a fate worse than death. For while my dreams as a child often involved dancing with these strange, seductive creatures long into the night, feasting on wines and loving and kissing, filled with the vivacious passion of quite literally dancing with death, there is a fact I have always established deep in the depths of my mind. It was a fact that even my small, five year old self could understand, and one that I would frequently remind myself of when staring out across my balcony on a warm summers night. For while I had always wanted to be like them in every other sense, I knew that no matter what, I could never, ever, become one.
There would be no place in Faey for a fallen angel. There would be no place for me at all. But of course, Soren won't understand. I haven't told him what I am, he doesn't know what it will do to me, he is just trying to help. My protests are futile. I let out a small sob.
This is what you meant, I call out to him in my head, my voice ringing out against the shallow emptiness of my mind. This is what you meant when you had to make a decision.
A little surprisingly, he answers, his voice sinking into that lulling honeyed caress that soothes my anxieties, my worries with a single soft sweep of my mind.
I never wanted to do this to you. But it is the only way. You can fight it Serena, I know you can. You do not have to become like me.
If I had the strength, I might have screamed. No one can fight a vampire's blood, no one can fight the transformation. Not even a soul. Not even me.
A vampire's blood is that of a death sentence, and one that comes all too swiftly.
The looming reality that there is no way I can rightly escape this either unchanged or alive hits me like a mace to the stomach- after all, my fate was sealed the moment Soren decided this would be the way to save me.. I am to become a monster.
All at once Soren freezes. My question wavers in the are between us, quelling us both into an unnatural silence, dread and unease settling upon me like a thick frost. His hands linger at my waist, eyes not quite meeting mine, as though he fears what he might see there: a raging beast, or a soul slipping into the depths of despair. Neither seem like a particularly favourable option.He looks like he wants to say something, his lips moving in silent speech, but the words don't fully come out, a faint smile playing on his lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Whatever 'decision' he has made, it is obviously one he has hesitations about telling me.The thought of that doesn't exactly sit well on my conscience.Instead, in true vampire fashion, he remains quiet, pondering, lips pursed together to form an impossible to break silence. Seeing I will be getting nothing from him, reluctantly I sink back into myself, the strength of my body already sapping away like water down a drain."Please tell me," I whisper, so softly that I half expect him not to hear it. Soren's eyes flicker upwards, capturing mine with a mix of sorrow and regret, golden irises swimming with an unfathomable pain. Another long moment of silence."I know how to save you," he murmurs at last, brushing a hand over my cheek, savouring the warmth that resides there. He breathes a gentle sigh. "But I can't guarantee that you won't hate me for it."Before I can voice my concerns, the vampire Prince helps me to stand. I watch with dizzy fascination as Soren slips a pair of trousers on me, steeling himself against the potent smell of blood that arises from my body like the heat of the sun on a hot summer's day, and inescapable aura that no shade nor water can help you fully escape from. My head spins sickeningly."Hate you, why would I-"A searing pain runs through my back, shooting down my spine in such a manner that causes me to double over in pain. The pain is quickly followed by that stomach turning familiar trickle of warm that leaks down my back and a frenzied tearing of skin- the wounds on my back tearing open under the strain of my movement.I cry out.It wouldn't take a genius to realise my body is already unreasonably weak, this might just be the last straw. My legs shake, my body beginning to tremble and-"Fuck, Serena, no no no get up!"Soren stumbles to grab a hold of me as I crumble beneath his hands, my knees buckling from the sheer amount of strength that has been sapped from my already weak and mortal bones. Azrael had certainly let the vampire take her ample time in tearing open holes in my back, her keen instincts of a predator allowing her to rip me open at just the right place to bleed the most, knowing which tendon to pull, which muscle to rip to inflict the most pain. If killing could be considered a craft, she would have carried it out with flying colours. Even under stasis, I find it incredibly difficult to believe I survived five minutes let alone two days.A small part of me knows that to die now, to give up on all this pain and suffering would dash away all the work I have done for the world; Azrael would continue being a menace, Soren would spiral into bitter hatred and loathsome mourning, and the feud between vampires and angels would never be resolved. But sinking into that blackness, which now presents itself as more of a friend and less of a foe, seems so easy, so much so that I find myself thinking that to give up now would be a great relief.Maybe I should just die after all.Whatever potion Soren put on my back, whatever amount of medicine he laid on to seal off my wounds or that strange golden liquid he had poured down my throat, there is no denying the fact my body has lost a lot of blood. And a lot may just be enough."Hey, hey, hey, look at me, Serena," he begs as I feel my eyes begin to flutter shut, my body weak and straining against all hope to keep itself alive as I launch into fits of shivering cold, but the efforts are futile. Perhaps the only thing left tying me to this world is Soren's grip on my body, and the compelling urgency of his voice calling me back from the darkness I so desperately want to submerge myself into."Dammit Serena, open your eyes," he begs again, his voice cracking with a heart wrenching sorrow.The sound of it is enough for my eyes to barely flicker open. Against the blackness that stalks the edge of my vision, and the heaviness of my eyelids threatening to close at any second, I can make out the worried gold sparkling in the depths of his eyes, veiled by a thin parting of messy brown hair that appears almost black under the lighting. Through fits of trembling, half conscious, I whisper:"So pretty." Soren shakes his head, laughing hysterically, choked with something that I can only think must be tears."Don't you dare die, don't-" he stops, his face going blank as slate, as though some ghost or strange apparition has possessed his body into a state of utter nothingness. Then after a few seconds of that chilling, empty look, he presses me closer into his chest, as if anxious that I might suddenly slip from his grasp."Serena," he murmurs anxiously, slowly now, bringing his eyes up to meet mine with a burning intensity that I have rarely been privy to."There is something I must do, it might be the only way to save you. I have given you a serum, it should help stop you from from-" he stops for a moment to shake his head, and I could have sworn that under the strenuous fearfulness in his eyes, I see a glimmer of a tear slipping down his cheek. With a hard swallow, he continues. "You are going to hate me for this, but I know you can fight it, I know you can," he whispers mournfully, pressing the back of his hand to my cheek lightly, caressing the side of my face with such a look of concern that even in my state of collapse, I have enough energy in me to feel a pang of alarm. There is something off about his tone. Some horrible truth that lies within the depths of his voice."S-Soren?" I croak pitifully as he picks me up fully, setting us down on a nearby velvety red couch, letting me lay across him, my head supported carefully by one arm, and with his other arm, he brings up his wrist to his mouth. My eyes grow wide."Soren?" I repeat, only with a little more urgency this time, panic conducting what little emotion my body has left into a tense confusion, urging me to move, torun. But my body, my useless, feeble, mortal body, is too damaged to barely even move my lips, let alone my limbs. It is all I can do but watch in horror as Soren bites down on his wrist, blood flowing in rivulets of pouring red, trickling down his wintry skin. My eyes grow large.So this is how I die."N-no Soren I don't want to-"He cuts me off."Do not worry, my dear. It will be okay, I know how to save you," he says softly, almost trance like as he raises his wrist, blood streaming like trickling red waterfalls down the ghostly pallor of his skin. I shake my head, pursing my lips furiously as I screw my eyes up against the inevitable.Taking Soren's blood would be a fate worse than death. For while my dreams as a child often involved dancing with these strange, seductive creatures long into the night, feasting on wines and loving and kissing, filled with the vivacious passion of quite literally dancing with death, there is a fact I have always established deep in the depths of my mind. It was a fact that even my small, five year old self could understand, and one that I would frequently remind myself of when staring out across my balcony on a warm summers night. For while I had always wanted to be like them in every other sense, I knew that no matter what, I could never, ever, become one.There would be no place in Faey for a fallen angel. There would be no place for me at all. But of course, Soren won't understand. I haven't told him what I am, he doesn't know what it will do to me, he is just trying to help. My protests are futile. I let out a small sob.This is what you meant, I call out to him in my head, my voice ringing out against the shallow emptiness of my mind. This is what you meant when you had to make a decision.A little surprisingly, he answers, his voice sinking into that lulling honeyed caress that soothes my anxieties, my worries with a single soft sweep of my mind.I never wanted to do this to you. But it is the only way. You can fight it Serena, I know you can. You do not have to become like me.If I had the strength, I might have screamed. No one can fight a vampire's blood, no one can fight the transformation. Not even a soul. Not even me.A vampire's blood is that of a death sentence, and one that comes all too swiftly.The looming reality that there is no way I can rightly escape this either unchanged or alive hits me like a mace to the stomach- after all, my fate was sealed the moment Soren decided this would be the way to save me.. I am to become a monster.
