Chapter 30: 30
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
When I finally drag my feet into the throne room of vampires, half swaying and drenched from head to toe in streaming rainwater, I find I am not in the least bit in the mood to ogle at the sight before me. The throne room is ominous, but as always beautifully lit by shadows and bright glistening chandeliers, and vibrant with the heat of bodies and cheery drunken laughs. The airy, fanatic dancing that I had seen on the first day had somewhat died down, though here and there a vampire would waltz their way through the mass of jostling bodies to the sound of an eerie orchestra that never seemed to stop playing. Others milled with heads held up high in permanent scorn, their slender bodies dipping fluidly in and out of the crowds of other creatures, sometimes to grab a heaving goblet of blood, other times to simply feed from the mortal creatures directly. After all, many had come to the palace to offer their blood in the first place, to be bitten, or turned- however much of a glimmer that hope was. Yet even now, the sight of it makes me want to hurl up my guts across the room. Watching the vampires flirt and smirk and leer over their prey, their victims, sends cold, jittering shudders down my spine- enough that I think it might send me quaking for the nearest bathroom. And yet… There is still something inherently beautiful about them: charming, seductive, the way they move about, feasting on wines and meats and people, their movements smooth, fluid, amorous, like the rain trickling slowly down my face. And no matter how much I shut it out, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself that it is simply their treacherous game, I couldn't help but find myself marvelling at it. I had wanted to meet a vampire ever since I was a little girl, and part of me feels a strange sense of fulfilment in the knowledge of how far I have come. Yet still my body thrums with a deep rooted envy, a desperation to be like these creatures, these sadistic, bloodsucking creatures, so that despite my vain efforts to pull away my gaze, to jerk myself back into reality, I can't help but look.
It is at that moment I feel a familiar gaze settle upon me. Slowly, from the far entrance of the throne room, I raise my eyes.
Finally, after long last, the Scarlet prince himself has returned. The thought in itself is almost enough to send me spiralling into a whirlpool of bitterness with rage. Almost, but not quite. Heavily, I think about the time I wasted looking for him, the long hours I spent dredging my ass through the never ending corridors of the palace- only to find him here. And here I was about to think there might be some good in him for saving my life. I feel my mouth sour.
He watches me as he first did, sat on his twisted throne of thorns with his feet swept lazily to one side, only this time surrounded by a gaggle of fawning women, some elves, nymphs, vampires, and a familiar blue skinned figure who whispers something lowly in his ear.
"Now I really want to leave." I groan under my breath, shifting nervously on my feet to bring back some form of circulation in my frigid body. I glance around the room, past bobbing vampire heads and slender limbs, searching for the best route of exit in case I want to make a dash. Yet the throne room is so packed manoeuvring the crowds without jostling past a hoard of bodies seems virtually impossible. I glance back over. Thankfully, her eyes haven't found me yet. Soren, noticing my gaze has shifted, throws me a charming smile, teeth flashing, his bedroom eyes twinkling at the sight of me- so unbelievably beautiful- as if to whisper 'care to join me?' I make sure he can see the daggers I shoot at him with my eyes, my only response being a sly grin that creeps like a spider up the side of his face. Wicked, bloodsucking monster. I wipe the streaming tears of rain from my face and imagine myself spitting at him- imagine because actually spitting would certainly draw attention from the wrong type of crowd. He grins.
Slowly, and very deliberately, he draws a sensuous hand through his hair, movements soft, silky, like everything else he does, and motions me over with his chin.
As if, I think, and do not move. He beckons one more time, not sparing a glance to any of the women so desperately clutching for his attention, the room darkening slightly under the sheer forcefulness of his will as he calls me over. I frown at him, eyes glowering from across the room, and throw him a rude gesture.
Days, I think, and not one sign of him. And now look at him. I hope bitterly to myself that he can feel my disgust from across the room- that it hits him right in his heart- if a monster like him even has one. It is at this point some of the Faey creatures and the dancers and the women have stopped to gawk at the silent exchange between us, and I realise with a pang of loathing that this was probably his plan all along. Some of the vampires glare at me, others simply hiss lowly under their breath, wolf-like and snarling, snatching out for the fabric of my clothes with clawed hands for disrespecting their Prince. I rattle my sword and they jump back. For seemingly refined and elegant creatures, it is surprising how many of them can be oddly uncouth.
Shifting myself to the side I avert my gaze and, not bearing to look much longer, run my fingers over the newly polished sword. Some of the vampires eye my sword warily, as if they wondered whether or not I might try to stab them with it, scar their perfect faces with its deadly blade. Perhaps they can feel the contempt rising off me, or perhaps I just look particularly vicious, but I could have sworn some of the vampires took a few steps back. I sneer in their general direction. Gazing back down at my flushed complexion in the reflection, I find I almost feel sorry for the women surrounding Soren, grasping for his attention, knowing full well they will not get any. My heart twinges, remembering his words.
"You are the most amusing creature I have seen in this dull place for a while now."
Perhaps the look of uninterest he poses towards the hoards of beautiful women around him proves if he actually meant it. Not that I'd care. My plan is merely to find the flame and escape this hell hold. Escape him.. Wrinkling my nose, I stalk off to the direction of my room, not bothering, and not wanting, to waste another glance towards him or those women.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
When I finally drag my feet into the throne room of vampires, half swaying and drenched from head to toe in streaming rainwater, I find I am not in the least bit in the mood to ogle at the sight before me. The throne room is ominous, but as always beautifully lit by shadows and bright glistening chandeliers, and vibrant with the heat of bodies and cheery drunken laughs. The airy, fanatic dancing that I had seen on the first day had somewhat died down, though here and there a vampire would waltz their way through the mass of jostling bodies to the sound of an eerie orchestra that never seemed to stop playing. Others milled with heads held up high in permanent scorn, their slender bodies dipping fluidly in and out of the crowds of other creatures, sometimes to grab a heaving goblet of blood, other times to simply feed from the mortal creatures directly. After all, many had come to the palace to offer their blood in the first place, to be bitten, or turned- however much of a glimmer that hope was. Yet even now, the sight of it makes me want to hurl up my guts across the room. Watching the vampires flirt and smirk and leer over their prey, their victims, sends cold, jittering shudders down my spine- enough that I think it might send me quaking for the nearest bathroom. And yet… There is still something inherently beautiful about them: charming, seductive, the way they move about, feasting on wines and meats and people, their movements smooth, fluid, amorous, like the rain trickling slowly down my face. And no matter how much I shut it out, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself that it is simply their treacherous game, I couldn't help but find myself marvelling at it. I had wanted to meet a vampire ever since I was a little girl, and part of me feels a strange sense of fulfilment in the knowledge of how far I have come. Yet still my body thrums with a deep rooted envy, a desperation to be like these creatures, these sadistic, bloodsucking creatures, so that despite my vain efforts to pull away my gaze, to jerk myself back into reality, I can't help but look.
It is at that moment I feel a familiar gaze settle upon me. Slowly, from the far entrance of the throne room, I raise my eyes.
Finally, after long last, the Scarlet prince himself has returned. The thought in itself is almost enough to send me spiralling into a whirlpool of bitterness with rage. Almost, but not quite. Heavily, I think about the time I wasted looking for him, the long hours I spent dredging my ass through the never ending corridors of the palace- only to find him here. And here I was about to think there might be some good in him for saving my life. I feel my mouth sour.
He watches me as he first did, sat on his twisted throne of thorns with his feet swept lazily to one side, only this time surrounded by a gaggle of fawning women, some elves, nymphs, vampires, and a familiar blue skinned figure who whispers something lowly in his ear.
"Now I really want to leave." I groan under my breath, shifting nervously on my feet to bring back some form of circulation in my frigid body. I glance around the room, past bobbing vampire heads and slender limbs, searching for the best route of exit in case I want to make a dash. Yet the throne room is so packed manoeuvring the crowds without jostling past a hoard of bodies seems virtually impossible. I glance back over. Thankfully, her eyes haven't found me yet. Soren, noticing my gaze has shifted, throws me a charming smile, teeth flashing, his bedroom eyes twinkling at the sight of me- so unbelievably beautiful- as if to whisper 'care to join me?' I make sure he can see the daggers I shoot at him with my eyes, my only response being a sly grin that creeps like a spider up the side of his face. Wicked, bloodsucking monster. I wipe the streaming tears of rain from my face and imagine myself spitting at him- imagine because actually spitting would certainly draw attention from the wrong type of crowd. He grins.
Slowly, and very deliberately, he draws a sensuous hand through his hair, movements soft, silky, like everything else he does, and motions me over with his chin.
As if, I think, and do not move. He beckons one more time, not sparing a glance to any of the women so desperately clutching for his attention, the room darkening slightly under the sheer forcefulness of his will as he calls me over. I frown at him, eyes glowering from across the room, and throw him a rude gesture.
Days, I think, and not one sign of him. And now look at him. I hope bitterly to myself that he can feel my disgust from across the room- that it hits him right in his heart- if a monster like him even has one. It is at this point some of the Faey creatures and the dancers and the women have stopped to gawk at the silent exchange between us, and I realise with a pang of loathing that this was probably his plan all along. Some of the vampires glare at me, others simply hiss lowly under their breath, wolf-like and snarling, snatching out for the fabric of my clothes with clawed hands for disrespecting their Prince. I rattle my sword and they jump back. For seemingly refined and elegant creatures, it is surprising how many of them can be oddly uncouth.
Shifting myself to the side I avert my gaze and, not bearing to look much longer, run my fingers over the newly polished sword. Some of the vampires eye my sword warily, as if they wondered whether or not I might try to stab them with it, scar their perfect faces with its deadly blade. Perhaps they can feel the contempt rising off me, or perhaps I just look particularly vicious, but I could have sworn some of the vampires took a few steps back. I sneer in their general direction. Gazing back down at my flushed complexion in the reflection, I find I almost feel sorry for the women surrounding Soren, grasping for his attention, knowing full well they will not get any. My heart twinges, remembering his words.
"You are the most amusing creature I have seen in this dull place for a while now."
Perhaps the look of uninterest he poses towards the hoards of beautiful women around him proves if he actually meant it. Not that I'd care. My plan is merely to find the flame and escape this hell hold. Escape him.. Wrinkling my nose, I stalk off to the direction of my room, not bothering, and not wanting, to waste another glance towards him or those women.
When I finally drag my feet into the throne room of vampires, half swaying and drenched from head to toe in streaming rainwater, I find I am not in the least bit in the mood to ogle at the sight before me. The throne room is ominous, but as always beautifully lit by shadows and bright glistening chandeliers, and vibrant with the heat of bodies and cheery drunken laughs. The airy, fanatic dancing that I had seen on the first day had somewhat died down, though here and there a vampire would waltz their way through the mass of jostling bodies to the sound of an eerie orchestra that never seemed to stop playing. Others milled with heads held up high in permanent scorn, their slender bodies dipping fluidly in and out of the crowds of other creatures, sometimes to grab a heaving goblet of blood, other times to simply feed from the mortal creatures directly. After all, many had come to the palace to offer their blood in the first place, to be bitten, or turned- however much of a glimmer that hope was. Yet even now, the sight of it makes me want to hurl up my guts across the room. Watching the vampires flirt and smirk and leer over their prey, their victims, sends cold, jittering shudders down my spine- enough that I think it might send me quaking for the nearest bathroom. And yet There is still something inherently beautiful about them: charming, seductive, the way they move about, feasting on wines and meats and people, their movements smooth, fluid, amorous, like the rain trickling slowly down my face. And no matter how much I shut it out, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself that it is simply their treacherous game, I couldn't help but find myself marvelling at it. I had wanted to meet a vampire ever since I was a little girl, and part of me feels a strange sense of fulfilment in the knowledge of how far I have come. Yet still my body thrums with a deep rooted envy, a desperation to be like these creatures, these sadistic, bloodsucking creatures, so that despite my vain efforts to pull away my gaze, to jerk myself back into reality, I can't help but look. It is at that moment I feel a familiar gaze settle upon me. Slowly, from the far entrance of the throne room, I raise my eyes. Finally, after long last, the Scarlet prince himself has returned. The thought in itself is almost enough to send me spiralling into a whirlpool of bitterness with rage. Almost, but not quite. Heavily, I think about the time I wasted looking for him, the long hours I spent dredging my ass through the never ending corridors of the palace- only to find him here. And here I was about to think there might be some good in him for saving my life. I feel my mouth sour. He watches me as he first did, sat on his twisted throne of thorns with his feet swept lazily to one side, only this time surrounded by a gaggle of fawning women, some elves, nymphs, vampires, and a familiar blue skinned figure who whispers something lowly in his ear. "Now I really want to leave." I groan under my breath, shifting nervously on my feet to bring back some form of circulation in my frigid body. I glance around the room, past bobbing vampire heads and slender limbs, searching for the best route of exit in case I want to make a dash. Yet the throne room is so packed manoeuvring the crowds without jostling past a hoard of bodies seems virtually impossible. I glance back over. Thankfully, her eyes haven't found me yet. Soren, noticing my gaze has shifted, throws me a charming smile, teeth flashing, his bedroom eyes twinkling at the sight of me- so unbelievably beautiful- as if to whisper 'care to join me?' I make sure he can see the daggers I shoot at him with my eyes, my only response being a sly grin that creeps like a spider up the side of his face. Wicked, bloodsucking monster. I wipe the streaming tears of rain from my face and imagine myself spitting at him- imagine because actually spitting would certainly draw attention from the wrong type of crowd. He grins. Slowly, and very deliberately, he draws a sensuous hand through his hair, movements soft, silky, like everything else he does, and motions me over with his chin. As if, I think, and do not move. He beckons one more time, not sparing a glance to any of the women so desperately clutching for his attention, the room darkening slightly under the sheer forcefulness of his will as he calls me over. I frown at him, eyes glowering from across the room, and throw him a rude gesture. Days, I think, and not one sign of him. And now look at him. I hope bitterly to myself that he can feel my disgust from across the room- that it hits him right in his heart- if a monster like him even has one. It is at this point some of the Faey creatures and the dancers and the women have stopped to gawk at the silent exchange between us, and I realise with a pang of loathing that this was probably his plan all along. Some of the vampires glare at me, others simply hiss lowly under their breath, wolf-like and snarling, snatching out for the fabric of my clothes with clawed hands for disrespecting their Prince. I rattle my sword and they jump back. For seemingly refined and elegant creatures, it is surprising how many of them can be oddly uncouth. Shifting myself to the side I avert my gaze and, not bearing to look much longer, run my fingers over the newly polished sword. Some of the vampires eye my sword warily, as if they wondered whether or not I might try to stab them with it, scar their perfect faces with its deadly blade. Perhaps they can feel the contempt rising off me, or perhaps I just look particularly vicious, but I could have sworn some of the vampires took a few steps back. I sneer in their general direction. Gazing back down at my flushed complexion in the reflection, I find I almost feel sorry for the women surrounding Soren, grasping for his attention, knowing full well they will not get any. My heart twinges, remembering his words. "You are the most amusing creature I have seen in this dull place for a while now." Perhaps the look of uninterest he poses towards the hoards of beautiful women around him proves if he actually meant it. Not that I'd care. My plan is merely to find the flame and escape this hell hold. Escape him.. Wrinkling my nose, I stalk off to the direction of my room, not bothering, and not wanting, to waste another glance towards him or those women.
