Chapter 48: 48
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(Soren's perspective)
"Distracted, my Prince?" comes the voice I am expecting from above my head. I don't bother looking up and continue to tap my foot against the mossy ground: if he doesn't want to be seen, then he shan't come down.
"Depends what you are asking I am distracted by," I murmur, quietly now, flicking a knife out from its sheath and twirling it between my fingers as the urge for blood subsides from my veins. The blade gleams dully in the darkness, reflecting back nothing but the impenetrable void. I drop my hand.
"You always were an impulsive boy, tell me, how is the mating ceremony going?" the voice prods, deep and gravelly, humorous to a slight. An unusual voice for a vampire.
"Your testing me again, friend, do not humour me matters in which you know yourself," I relay heavily, keeping my voice flat and impartial. I sheath the knife back into my belt, and begin picking at my nails, sinking back further against the tree nonchalantly. "I do not have the time for trivial conversation,"
"And yet I hardly ever see you, Soren, so please, indulge an old friend." the voice presses, and I know it's not a question. A pine cone drops from the darkness above and clatters down onto my head. I roll my eyes, but a smile begins to creep onto my face.
"You may tell Kal that foul play won't be necessary," I call up among the trees, branches shaking above my head as a loud leathery rustling echo's through the treetops, giving no indication of coming down anytime soon. Another pinecone drops.
"Kal informs me you have found a girl," the voice muses, as the leathery flapping slows to a halt, replaced by the slow, continuous grinding of a knife on a stone. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips and as if in answer, the beating heart thrums louder in my ears.
"Perhaps I have," I shrug, flicking debris off my hunting coat. "Perhaps not."
Another pinecone.
"Kal," I growl, and an eerie laughter rebounds through the trees. Another growl rips from my throat. A figure swiftly lands noiselessly in the gloom beside me. A long hunting knife gleams in his hand menacingly, tucked halfway up his cloak, and although his face is obscured under the darkness of a hood, I know he is smiling.
"Kal tells me she is not a vampire, is it so?" The figure asks, swaying on the balls of his feet, suddenly very interested in the flower in my pocket. I flick him away.
"The vampires of my court bore me, they only care for sex and blood and to glutton themselves on the lives of mortal creatures. Some more so than my own dear brother. Yet they lie through their teeth claiming they do not fear me, though their pretty little faces tell me differently. Fear gets stale, my friend, I am sure you know the feeling." The figure nods thoughtfully as if that is the answer he was looking for. Carefully, I tuck my hands into my pockets, my breath a crystalline vapour in the thick frosty air.
"Handling a kingdom of vampires is not an easy thing, a firm hand will only get you so far, Soren. They are wild creatures, and though fear may bore you, fear is what keeps them in check. It is fear that makes you strong."
"You were always wiser than me my friend," I laugh smoothly, clapping him on the shoulder, and a leathery rustle sounds in agreement.
"Wiser and more handsome," he jokes heartily, and pats me back. After the laughter dies away, an abrupt silence falls between us. I glance back to the hunting knife in his hand, the ways in which his calloused fingers glide across it's blade- the hands of a skilled hunter. Yet there is a denseness in his heart, a worry, a dark gloom that hangs over his being like a death sentence. I do not need to draw at those strings to know what he is going to say.
"How many?" I ask under my breath. Even with the impossibility of creatures roaming the End, the instinct to lower my voice is out of impulse; a voice in a palace full of watchful vampires is a voice that must almost always be lowered.
"Twenty halfling vampires have been taken from the Western edge of the Great Forest." he affirms in an equally hushed voice. My fingers tap on my arm slowly.
"That's twenty-three including the pure bloods from Sezeria. And what of the angels?"
"Five taken." I nod slowly.
"Do they suspect anything?" I ask, the words heavy on my tongue. The hooded figure shifts uncomfortably. The knife retreats up his sleeve.
"No, but-" With a wave of my hand, I cut him off. The figure stops dead, waiting, listening. Nothing moves.
It is in that moment that I realise the beating has got louder.
"Shit," I mutter, and shadowshift into the trees, alighting on a branch of redwood to survey through the dense thickets of leaves and branches. The looming figure lands quietly beside me, a cold frown visible from beneath his hood. Together we shelter in the treetops, away from the prowling eyes on the ground below.
"You were followed," he says bluntly, head tilting towards me. I feel his watchful eyes piercing into me, and think for a moment that if I was able to feel it, I might have shivered from the cold. My claws flex in anticipation.
"No," I growl sharply, listening to the frightened fluttering of each beat coming closer and closer, straying this way and that, unsure of each step. "She did not want to come here after me." The silent stare drills into me again. I can hear it questioning: she? A hand tightens over my wrist, and a little too late I realise why. The smell of blood, fresh and sweet, glides through the air. It lands on my lips, coats my tongue in a thick, maddening pleasure and all at once, I am intoxicated.
"Soren, no, you must not," the man urges, his voice a low his against my ear. I shake him off, straining to rip my hand free from his grip, barely hearing him at all. I know this blood, yes, I know this blood well. I let my body go slack for a minute, breathing in the scent, the delicate floralness of it, unbittered by long days of fear. Yes, this is what I have been longing for.
My eyes roll back into my head.
"Soren," the voice pleads one more time, but by the time the words have left his lips, I am already gone.
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(Soren's perspective)
"Distracted, my Prince?" comes the voice I am expecting from above my head. I don't bother looking up and continue to tap my foot against the mossy ground: if he doesn't want to be seen, then he shan't come down.
"Depends what you are asking I am distracted by," I murmur, quietly now, flicking a knife out from its sheath and twirling it between my fingers as the urge for blood subsides from my veins. The blade gleams dully in the darkness, reflecting back nothing but the impenetrable void. I drop my hand.
"You always were an impulsive boy, tell me, how is the mating ceremony going?" the voice prods, deep and gravelly, humorous to a slight. An unusual voice for a vampire.
"Your testing me again, friend, do not humour me matters in which you know yourself," I relay heavily, keeping my voice flat and impartial. I sheath the knife back into my belt, and begin picking at my nails, sinking back further against the tree nonchalantly. "I do not have the time for trivial conversation,"
"And yet I hardly ever see you, Soren, so please, indulge an old friend." the voice presses, and I know it's not a question. A pine cone drops from the darkness above and clatters down onto my head. I roll my eyes, but a smile begins to creep onto my face.
"You may tell Kal that foul play won't be necessary," I call up among the trees, branches shaking above my head as a loud leathery rustling echo's through the treetops, giving no indication of coming down anytime soon. Another pinecone drops.
"Kal informs me you have found a girl," the voice muses, as the leathery flapping slows to a halt, replaced by the slow, continuous grinding of a knife on a stone. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips and as if in answer, the beating heart thrums louder in my ears.
"Perhaps I have," I shrug, flicking debris off my hunting coat. "Perhaps not."
Another pinecone.
"Kal," I growl, and an eerie laughter rebounds through the trees. Another growl rips from my throat. A figure swiftly lands noiselessly in the gloom beside me. A long hunting knife gleams in his hand menacingly, tucked halfway up his cloak, and although his face is obscured under the darkness of a hood, I know he is smiling.
"Kal tells me she is not a vampire, is it so?" The figure asks, swaying on the balls of his feet, suddenly very interested in the flower in my pocket. I flick him away.
"The vampires of my court bore me, they only care for sex and blood and to glutton themselves on the lives of mortal creatures. Some more so than my own dear brother. Yet they lie through their teeth claiming they do not fear me, though their pretty little faces tell me differently. Fear gets stale, my friend, I am sure you know the feeling." The figure nods thoughtfully as if that is the answer he was looking for. Carefully, I tuck my hands into my pockets, my breath a crystalline vapour in the thick frosty air.
"Handling a kingdom of vampires is not an easy thing, a firm hand will only get you so far, Soren. They are wild creatures, and though fear may bore you, fear is what keeps them in check. It is fear that makes you strong."
"You were always wiser than me my friend," I laugh smoothly, clapping him on the shoulder, and a leathery rustle sounds in agreement.
"Wiser and more handsome," he jokes heartily, and pats me back. After the laughter dies away, an abrupt silence falls between us. I glance back to the hunting knife in his hand, the ways in which his calloused fingers glide across it's blade- the hands of a skilled hunter. Yet there is a denseness in his heart, a worry, a dark gloom that hangs over his being like a death sentence. I do not need to draw at those strings to know what he is going to say.
"How many?" I ask under my breath. Even with the impossibility of creatures roaming the End, the instinct to lower my voice is out of impulse; a voice in a palace full of watchful vampires is a voice that must almost always be lowered.
"Twenty halfling vampires have been taken from the Western edge of the Great Forest." he affirms in an equally hushed voice. My fingers tap on my arm slowly.
"That's twenty-three including the pure bloods from Sezeria. And what of the angels?"
"Five taken." I nod slowly.
"Do they suspect anything?" I ask, the words heavy on my tongue. The hooded figure shifts uncomfortably. The knife retreats up his sleeve.
"No, but-" With a wave of my hand, I cut him off. The figure stops dead, waiting, listening. Nothing moves.
It is in that moment that I realise the beating has got louder.
"Shit," I mutter, and shadowshift into the trees, alighting on a branch of redwood to survey through the dense thickets of leaves and branches. The looming figure lands quietly beside me, a cold frown visible from beneath his hood. Together we shelter in the treetops, away from the prowling eyes on the ground below.
"You were followed," he says bluntly, head tilting towards me. I feel his watchful eyes piercing into me, and think for a moment that if I was able to feel it, I might have shivered from the cold. My claws flex in anticipation.
"No," I growl sharply, listening to the frightened fluttering of each beat coming closer and closer, straying this way and that, unsure of each step. "She did not want to come here after me." The silent stare drills into me again. I can hear it questioning: she? A hand tightens over my wrist, and a little too late I realise why. The smell of blood, fresh and sweet, glides through the air. It lands on my lips, coats my tongue in a thick, maddening pleasure and all at once, I am intoxicated.
"Soren, no, you must not," the man urges, his voice a low his against my ear. I shake him off, straining to rip my hand free from his grip, barely hearing him at all. I know this blood, yes, I know this blood well. I let my body go slack for a minute, breathing in the scent, the delicate floralness of it, unbittered by long days of fear. Yes, this is what I have been longing for.
My eyes roll back into my head.
"Soren," the voice pleads one more time, but by the time the words have left his lips, I am already gone.
Soren's perspective"Distracted, my Prince?" comes the voice I am expecting from above my head. I don't bother looking up and continue to tap my foot against the mossy ground: if he doesn't want to be seen, then he shan't come down."Depends what you are asking I am distracted by," I murmur, quietly now, flicking a knife out from its sheath and twirling it between my fingers as the urge for blood subsides from my veins. The blade gleams dully in the darkness, reflecting back nothing but the impenetrable void. I drop my hand."You always were an impulsive boy, tell me, how is the mating ceremony going?" the voice prods, deep and gravelly, humorous to a slight. An unusual voice for a vampire."Your testing me again, friend, do not humour me matters in which you know yourself," I relay heavily, keeping my voice flat and impartial. I sheath the knife back into my belt, and begin picking at my nails, sinking back further against the tree nonchalantly. "I do not have the time for trivial conversation,""And yet I hardly ever see you, Soren, so please, indulge an old friend." the voice presses, and I know it's not a question. A pine cone drops from the darkness above and clatters down onto my head. I roll my eyes, but a smile begins to creep onto my face."You may tell Kal that foul play won't be necessary," I call up among the trees, branches shaking above my head as a loud leathery rustling echo's through the treetops, giving no indication of coming down anytime soon. Another pinecone drops."Kal informs me you have found a girl," the voice muses, as the leathery flapping slows to a halt, replaced by the slow, continuous grinding of a knife on a stone. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips and as if in answer, the beating heart thrums louder in my ears."Perhaps I have," I shrug, flicking debris off my hunting coat. "Perhaps not."Another pinecone."Kal," I growl, and an eerie laughter rebounds through the trees. Another growl rips from my throat. A figure swiftly lands noiselessly in the gloom beside me. A long hunting knife gleams in his hand menacingly, tucked halfway up his cloak, and although his face is obscured under the darkness of a hood, I know he is smiling."Kal tells me she is not a vampire, is it so?" The figure asks, swaying on the balls of his feet, suddenly very interested in the flower in my pocket. I flick him away."The vampires of my court bore me, they only care for sex and blood and to glutton themselves on the lives of mortal creatures. Some more so than my own dear brother. Yet they lie through their teeth claiming they do not fear me, though their pretty little faces tell me differently. Fear gets stale, my friend, I am sure you know the feeling." The figure nods thoughtfully as if that is the answer he was looking for. Carefully, I tuck my hands into my pockets, my breath a crystalline vapour in the thick frosty air."Handling a kingdom of vampires is not an easy thing, a firm hand will only get you so far, Soren. They are wild creatures, and though fear may bore you, fear is what keeps them in check. It is fear that makes you strong.""You were always wiser than me my friend," I laugh smoothly, clapping him on the shoulder, and a leathery rustle sounds in agreement."Wiser and more handsome," he jokes heartily, and pats me back. After the laughter dies away, an abrupt silence falls between us. I glance back to the hunting knife in his hand, the ways in which his calloused fingers glide across it's blade- the hands of a skilled hunter. Yet there is a denseness in his heart, a worry, a dark gloom that hangs over his being like a death sentence. I do not need to draw at those strings to know what he is going to say."How many?" I ask under my breath. Even with the impossibility of creatures roaming the End, the instinct to lower my voice is out of impulse; a voice in a palace full of watchful vampires is a voice that must almost always be lowered."Twenty halfling vampires have been taken from the Western edge of the Great Forest." he affirms in an equally hushed voice. My fingers tap on my arm slowly."That's twenty-three including the pure bloods from Sezeria. And what of the angels?""Five taken." I nod slowly."Do they suspect anything?" I ask, the words heavy on my tongue. The hooded figure shifts uncomfortably. The knife retreats up his sleeve."No, but-" With a wave of my hand, I cut him off. The figure stops dead, waiting, listening. Nothing moves.It is in that moment that I realise the beating has got louder."Shit," I mutter, and shadowshift into the trees, alighting on a branch of redwood to survey through the dense thickets of leaves and branches. The looming figure lands quietly beside me, a cold frown visible from beneath his hood. Together we shelter in the treetops, away from the prowling eyes on the ground below."You were followed," he says bluntly, head tilting towards me. I feel his watchful eyes piercing into me, and think for a moment that if I was able to feel it, I might have shivered from the cold. My claws flex in anticipation."No," I growl sharply, listening to the frightened fluttering of each beat coming closer and closer, straying this way and that, unsure of each step. "She did not want to come here after me." The silent stare drills into me again. I can hear it questioning: she? A hand tightens over my wrist, and a little too late I realise why. The smell of blood, fresh and sweet, glides through the air. It lands on my lips, coats my tongue in a thick, maddening pleasure and all at once, I am intoxicated."Soren, no, you must not," the man urges, his voice a low his against my ear. I shake him off, straining to rip my hand free from his grip, barely hearing him at all. I know this blood, yes, I know this blood well. I let my body go slack for a minute, breathing in the scent, the delicate floralness of it, unbittered by long days of fear. Yes, this is what I have been longing for.My eyes roll back into my head."Soren," the voice pleads one more time, but by the time the words have left his lips, I am already gone.
