Chapter 215: 215
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"I need an advocate, in some form or another," I explain, looking down to where the tiny little angel waits expectantly at my order. So small, so fragile, and yet... under these veins this little angel has immense power brewing, a power ignited by the flame and the will of her people. It is a potential in all angels that I would largely not like to be wasted.
"I know she is only young but such a benefactor could be useful to our cause in fighting Azrael. Serena wanted this more than anything else, we need her people on our side if we are going to win this war, there is no other way about it."
It is at this moment that Delina's whole body freezes, a shudder of understanding trembling through her. From glancing between the flame and Dawn, and then me, her eyes growing impossibly wide. Trembling, she shakes her head, backing up a little into the shadows of the room.
"Her… people? Serena's people..?" she says, her eyes never leaving Dawns body, as though simultaneously disgusted and intrigued at what that might imply for me and the rest of my kind. Such typical vampire ignorance.
I narrow my eyes.
"My Queen, Serena, does not belong to a woodland elf clan, or any elf clan for that matter," I explain, lifting my free hand to allow coils of black, curling magic to wisp around my hand, a miniature figure forming between the shadows. It is faint at first, like fog rising off the sea. A memory of wings and feathers, spread out on a grassy bank, the symbol of a divinist, and my markings running down the valley of her breasts. I recall the softness of her wings against my fingers, the tremble of her body as I pressed her to me, the fear in her eyes as I told her that I knew all along who she had been.
All this is expressed within that empty void of darkness, twisting with shapes and visions of events that have long since passed, not all of them visual, but often a feeling that thrums like a heartbeat in the air between us. Sadly, Ithuriel inclines his head.
"She is an angel, Delina. Not just any angel, however. She is their Queen."
Delina's jaw practically drops to the floor.
"Serena is an angel?" There is a stunned, almost angry silence for a moment while she scans the faces of the room with a bitter snarling expression. I find it remarkably good that Dawn does not shy away from this expression, rather satisfied with staying put and facing at the blue vampire head on- rather roguishly if I might add. Kal however, seems much more uncomfortable in the matter, twiddling his thumbs with a sheepish look plastered across his face. Delina latches onto this like a dog to a bone.
"You knew, Kal?" she cries, exasperated, taking another step back. Slowly, Kal nods, not a word leaving his lips.
Delina's gaze turns to me.
"And you? You knew too?" she whispers, gobsmacked, shaking her head in disbelief. But the answers she hears are not the ones she wants to as she remains rooted on the spot, half terrified, half angry at the situation that has become of us.
"I trusted her, I thought she-"
"Delina," I instruct firmly, crossing the room in one swift motion to enclose her hand within my own, steadying the shaking of her slender body. The blue skinned vampire does not dare to look at me, in fact she barely even manages to breath, her features frozen, icy with the notion that her place in my world has been taken not by an elf, but by an angel.
But to be honest, it was never really her place to begin with. One way or another, Serena's soul would have found her way to me. Or perhaps I her. The fate of our souls was never Delina's to decide, but the will of Faey, and the god who created us.
"Delina, you have to understand she is not the enemy here. Not once in her time here did she try to harm you in any way- surely you see this? All she has done is advocate for my people, her intentions were not ill willed. I beg of you, do not let some feeble, self instilled hatred get the better of you, maintain some sense, please."
But Delina is not listening to my words, not at all. Her face is flushed she bats me away, eyes pricked with a watery light that swims with the beginnings of tears.
"You t-trait…. T-trai," Delina cuts herself off with a low sob, her fists pounding against my chest, not with the intent of hurting, at least, not in a physical way. It is obvious from the way that she clings to me, the half hearted swings of her fists, the way her voice catches in her throat as if she can't really bear to voice the words, that she is, undoubtedly, undone by my words.
I do not need to look into her heart to tell it has shattered many times over, but I do anyway, reaching invisible strands of warmth as I extend my awareness to her heart. With a sharp sting at my conscience I see the broken images of confrontation with Serena, a meeting at a stables, swimming through an underground cavern full of lights and watery reeds that sway with the influence of shoals of fish. These images pass in a blur of colour until finally it stops, settles on an image I have not given thought for years.
A young, more irrational Soren, bloodthirsty in nature and devious in ways, sits on a balcony at the edge of the palace, watching out across his kingdom as he laments upon the nature of his brother, and the troubles his people face. There is a longing in his heart, for he has just seen the girl of his dreams, danced with her under a canopy of leaves and crystal starlight, listened to her heart flutter and all at once finds himself encapsulated. He cannot draw his eyes off the forest, knowing that perhaps by morning, he might see her again. So listlessly he sits, waiting for the minute her carriage- for she surely must be a Princess, draws upon to his walls.
A shadow flickers beside him, a long, tall silhouette gracing the darkness with an airy blue light, dancing her way to take her place beside him, unaware of the turmoil of his mind.
She smiles at him, nudges him with her finger, and then stops, falling short. She frowns, seeing that his eyes are not on her, but far off in the distance, trained on something she cannot possibly hope to see, for love is not something that is so simple in cognition.
She pauses, leaning round to face him, then asks him what's wrong. When he does not answer, she offers to get him some blood wine so they might sit and talk- it has been so long since they have talked. But he does not hear her, staring out with a profound longing into the distance, a hopeful melancholy in his eyes.
For you see, his love is forbidden- at least by the standards of his kingdom. Silently he thinks to himself that it is about time that changed.
Then, realising that she has not stopped talking, he turns to her, his expression dull but not cold, for his eyes glow with a soft amber light that has not blessed the world for a very long time.
Pursing his lips, he runs his hands over her dark navy hair, wisping over her horns and down to turn up her chin, at last her eyes meeting his as he utters those fateful words:
"Delina, I will not be taking your hand in the ball tomorrow."
She stands there for a moment, laughing, presuming he is joking- for his humour is often dry like that. But no smile crosses his face, nor does he reach to jab her in the arm, to grin and tell her it was all a farce. He stands perfectly still, the wind messing the ruffles of his dark locks, his eyes downcast as he says:
"My heart has been won by another."
***
Lowly, Delina weeps against my chest, her fists having long since ceased their barrage upon my skin, her form limp and lose against me. Gently I prize her off me, cupping her hands in mine as I lean down to whisper:
"I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, Delina. But I cannot go back on fate, my destiny is tied. If you hate me for what I have done to you, then I cannot blame you. But I cannot let my people go down the same path. I need you to help me, Delina. I do not want a war with our kind any longer. It is a pitiful waste of mortal and immortal life when we should really be focused on the crimes of my brother. If you choose not to help me, then I am afraid you are on your own. The choice is yours."
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"I need an advocate, in some form or another," I explain, looking down to where the tiny little angel waits expectantly at my order. So small, so fragile, and yet... under these veins this little angel has immense power brewing, a power ignited by the flame and the will of her people. It is a potential in all angels that I would largely not like to be wasted.
"I know she is only young but such a benefactor could be useful to our cause in fighting Azrael. Serena wanted this more than anything else, we need her people on our side if we are going to win this war, there is no other way about it."
It is at this moment that Delina's whole body freezes, a shudder of understanding trembling through her. From glancing between the flame and Dawn, and then me, her eyes growing impossibly wide. Trembling, she shakes her head, backing up a little into the shadows of the room.
"Her… people? Serena's people..?" she says, her eyes never leaving Dawns body, as though simultaneously disgusted and intrigued at what that might imply for me and the rest of my kind. Such typical vampire ignorance.
I narrow my eyes.
"My Queen, Serena, does not belong to a woodland elf clan, or any elf clan for that matter," I explain, lifting my free hand to allow coils of black, curling magic to wisp around my hand, a miniature figure forming between the shadows. It is faint at first, like fog rising off the sea. A memory of wings and feathers, spread out on a grassy bank, the symbol of a divinist, and my markings running down the valley of her breasts. I recall the softness of her wings against my fingers, the tremble of her body as I pressed her to me, the fear in her eyes as I told her that I knew all along who she had been.
All this is expressed within that empty void of darkness, twisting with shapes and visions of events that have long since passed, not all of them visual, but often a feeling that thrums like a heartbeat in the air between us. Sadly, Ithuriel inclines his head.
"She is an angel, Delina. Not just any angel, however. She is their Queen."
Delina's jaw practically drops to the floor.
"Serena is an angel?" There is a stunned, almost angry silence for a moment while she scans the faces of the room with a bitter snarling expression. I find it remarkably good that Dawn does not shy away from this expression, rather satisfied with staying put and facing at the blue vampire head on- rather roguishly if I might add. Kal however, seems much more uncomfortable in the matter, twiddling his thumbs with a sheepish look plastered across his face. Delina latches onto this like a dog to a bone.
"You knew, Kal?" she cries, exasperated, taking another step back. Slowly, Kal nods, not a word leaving his lips.
Delina's gaze turns to me.
"And you? You knew too?" she whispers, gobsmacked, shaking her head in disbelief. But the answers she hears are not the ones she wants to as she remains rooted on the spot, half terrified, half angry at the situation that has become of us.
"I trusted her, I thought she-"
"Delina," I instruct firmly, crossing the room in one swift motion to enclose her hand within my own, steadying the shaking of her slender body. The blue skinned vampire does not dare to look at me, in fact she barely even manages to breath, her features frozen, icy with the notion that her place in my world has been taken not by an elf, but by an angel.
But to be honest, it was never really her place to begin with. One way or another, Serena's soul would have found her way to me. Or perhaps I her. The fate of our souls was never Delina's to decide, but the will of Faey, and the god who created us.
"Delina, you have to understand she is not the enemy here. Not once in her time here did she try to harm you in any way- surely you see this? All she has done is advocate for my people, her intentions were not ill willed. I beg of you, do not let some feeble, self instilled hatred get the better of you, maintain some sense, please."
But Delina is not listening to my words, not at all. Her face is flushed she bats me away, eyes pricked with a watery light that swims with the beginnings of tears.
"You t-trait…. T-trai," Delina cuts herself off with a low sob, her fists pounding against my chest, not with the intent of hurting, at least, not in a physical way. It is obvious from the way that she clings to me, the half hearted swings of her fists, the way her voice catches in her throat as if she can't really bear to voice the words, that she is, undoubtedly, undone by my words.
I do not need to look into her heart to tell it has shattered many times over, but I do anyway, reaching invisible strands of warmth as I extend my awareness to her heart. With a sharp sting at my conscience I see the broken images of confrontation with Serena, a meeting at a stables, swimming through an underground cavern full of lights and watery reeds that sway with the influence of shoals of fish. These images pass in a blur of colour until finally it stops, settles on an image I have not given thought for years.
A young, more irrational Soren, bloodthirsty in nature and devious in ways, sits on a balcony at the edge of the palace, watching out across his kingdom as he laments upon the nature of his brother, and the troubles his people face. There is a longing in his heart, for he has just seen the girl of his dreams, danced with her under a canopy of leaves and crystal starlight, listened to her heart flutter and all at once finds himself encapsulated. He cannot draw his eyes off the forest, knowing that perhaps by morning, he might see her again. So listlessly he sits, waiting for the minute her carriage- for she surely must be a Princess, draws upon to his walls.
A shadow flickers beside him, a long, tall silhouette gracing the darkness with an airy blue light, dancing her way to take her place beside him, unaware of the turmoil of his mind.
She smiles at him, nudges him with her finger, and then stops, falling short. She frowns, seeing that his eyes are not on her, but far off in the distance, trained on something she cannot possibly hope to see, for love is not something that is so simple in cognition.
She pauses, leaning round to face him, then asks him what's wrong. When he does not answer, she offers to get him some blood wine so they might sit and talk- it has been so long since they have talked. But he does not hear her, staring out with a profound longing into the distance, a hopeful melancholy in his eyes.
For you see, his love is forbidden- at least by the standards of his kingdom. Silently he thinks to himself that it is about time that changed.
Then, realising that she has not stopped talking, he turns to her, his expression dull but not cold, for his eyes glow with a soft amber light that has not blessed the world for a very long time.
Pursing his lips, he runs his hands over her dark navy hair, wisping over her horns and down to turn up her chin, at last her eyes meeting his as he utters those fateful words:
"Delina, I will not be taking your hand in the ball tomorrow."
She stands there for a moment, laughing, presuming he is joking- for his humour is often dry like that. But no smile crosses his face, nor does he reach to jab her in the arm, to grin and tell her it was all a farce. He stands perfectly still, the wind messing the ruffles of his dark locks, his eyes downcast as he says:
"My heart has been won by another."
***
Lowly, Delina weeps against my chest, her fists having long since ceased their barrage upon my skin, her form limp and lose against me. Gently I prize her off me, cupping her hands in mine as I lean down to whisper:
"I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, Delina. But I cannot go back on fate, my destiny is tied. If you hate me for what I have done to you, then I cannot blame you. But I cannot let my people go down the same path. I need you to help me, Delina. I do not want a war with our kind any longer. It is a pitiful waste of mortal and immortal life when we should really be focused on the crimes of my brother. If you choose not to help me, then I am afraid you are on your own. The choice is yours."
"I need an advocate, in some form or another," I explain, looking down to where the tiny little angel waits expectantly at my order. So small, so fragile, and yet... under these veins this little angel has immense power brewing, a power ignited by the flame and the will of her people. It is a potential in all angels that I would largely not like to be wasted."I know she is only young but such a benefactor could be useful to our cause in fighting Azrael. Serena wanted this more than anything else, we need her people on our side if we are going to win this war, there is no other way about it."It is at this moment that Delina's whole body freezes, a shudder of understanding trembling through her. From glancing between the flame and Dawn, and then me, her eyes growing impossibly wide. Trembling, she shakes her head, backing up a little into the shadows of the room."Her people? Serena's people..?" she says, her eyes never leaving Dawns body, as though simultaneously disgusted and intrigued at what that might imply for me and the rest of my kind. Such typical vampire ignorance.I narrow my eyes."My Queen, Serena, does not belong to a woodland elf clan, or any elf clan for that matter," I explain, lifting my free hand to allow coils of black, curling magic to wisp around my hand, a miniature figure forming between the shadows. It is faint at first, like fog rising off the sea. A memory of wings and feathers, spread out on a grassy bank, the symbol of a divinist, and my markings running down the valley of her breasts. I recall the softness of her wings against my fingers, the tremble of her body as I pressed her to me, the fear in her eyes as I told her that I knew all along who she had been.All this is expressed within that empty void of darkness, twisting with shapes and visions of events that have long since passed, not all of them visual, but often a feeling that thrums like a heartbeat in the air between us. Sadly, Ithuriel inclines his head."She is an angel, Delina. Not just any angel, however. She is their Queen."Delina's jaw practically drops to the floor."Serena is an angel?" There is a stunned, almost angry silence for a moment while she scans the faces of the room with a bitter snarling expression. I find it remarkably good that Dawn does not shy away from this expression, rather satisfied with staying put and facing at the blue vampire head on- rather roguishly if I might add. Kal however, seems much more uncomfortable in the matter, twiddling his thumbs with a sheepish look plastered across his face. Delina latches onto this like a dog to a bone."You knew, Kal?" she cries, exasperated, taking another step back. Slowly, Kal nods, not a word leaving his lips.Delina's gaze turns to me."And you? You knew too?" she whispers, gobsmacked, shaking her head in disbelief. But the answers she hears are not the ones she wants to as she remains rooted on the spot, half terrified, half angry at the situation that has become of us."I trusted her, I thought she-""Delina," I instruct firmly, crossing the room in one swift motion to enclose her hand within my own, steadying the shaking of her slender body. The blue skinned vampire does not dare to look at me, in fact she barely even manages to breath, her features frozen, icy with the notion that her place in my world has been taken not by an elf, but by an angel.But to be honest, it was never really her place to begin with. One way or another, Serena's soul would have found her way to me. Or perhaps I her. The fate of our souls was never Delina's to decide, but the will of Faey, and the god who created us. "Delina, you have to understand she is not the enemy here. Not once in her time here did she try to harm you in any way- surely you see this? All she has done is advocate for my people, her intentions were not ill willed. I beg of you, do not let some feeble, self instilled hatred get the better of you, maintain some sense, please."But Delina is not listening to my words, not at all. Her face is flushed she bats me away, eyes pricked with a watery light that swims with the beginnings of tears."You t-trait. T-trai," Delina cuts herself off with a low sob, her fists pounding against my chest, not with the intent of hurting, at least, not in a physical way. It is obvious from the way that she clings to me, the half hearted swings of her fists, the way her voice catches in her throat as if she can't really bear to voice the words, that she is, undoubtedly, undone by my words. I do not need to look into her heart to tell it has shattered many times over, but I do anyway, reaching invisible strands of warmth as I extend my awareness to her heart. With a sharp sting at my conscience I see the broken images of confrontation with Serena, a meeting at a stables, swimming through an underground cavern full of lights and watery reeds that sway with the influence of shoals of fish. These images pass in a blur of colour until finally it stops, settles on an image I have not given thought for years.A young, more irrational Soren, bloodthirsty in nature and devious in ways, sits on a balcony at the edge of the palace, watching out across his kingdom as he laments upon the nature of his brother, and the troubles his people face. There is a longing in his heart, for he has just seen the girl of his dreams, danced with her under a canopy of leaves and crystal starlight, listened to her heart flutter and all at once finds himself encapsulated. He cannot draw his eyes off the forest, knowing that perhaps by morning, he might see her again. So listlessly he sits, waiting for the minute her carriage- for she surely must be a Princess, draws upon to his walls.A shadow flickers beside him, a long, tall silhouette gracing the darkness with an airy blue light, dancing her way to take her place beside him, unaware of the turmoil of his mind.She smiles at him, nudges him with her finger, and then stops, falling short. She frowns, seeing that his eyes are not on her, but far off in the distance, trained on something she cannot possibly hope to see, for love is not something that is so simple in cognition.She pauses, leaning round to face him, then asks him what's wrong. When he does not answer, she offers to get him some blood wine so they might sit and talk- it has been so long since they have talked. But he does not hear her, staring out with a profound longing into the distance, a hopeful melancholy in his eyes.For you see, his love is forbidden- at least by the standards of his kingdom. Silently he thinks to himself that it is about time that changed.Then, realising that she has not stopped talking, he turns to her, his expression dull but not cold, for his eyes glow with a soft amber light that has not blessed the world for a very long time.Pursing his lips, he runs his hands over her dark navy hair, wisping over her horns and down to turn up her chin, at last her eyes meeting his as he utters those fateful words:"Delina, I will not be taking your hand in the ball tomorrow."She stands there for a moment, laughing, presuming he is joking- for his humour is often dry like that. But no smile crosses his face, nor does he reach to jab her in the arm, to grin and tell her it was all a farce. He stands perfectly still, the wind messing the ruffles of his dark locks, his eyes downcast as he says:"My heart has been won by another."***Lowly, Delina weeps against my chest, her fists having long since ceased their barrage upon my skin, her form limp and lose against me. Gently I prize her off me, cupping her hands in mine as I lean down to whisper:"I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, Delina. But I cannot go back on fate, my destiny is tied. If you hate me for what I have done to you, then I cannot blame you. But I cannot let my people go down the same path. I need you to help me, Delina. I do not want a war with our kind any longer. It is a pitiful waste of mortal and immortal life when we should really be focused on the crimes of my brother. If you choose not to help me, then I am afraid you are on your own. The choice is yours."
