Thread: Hued as Rose and Wine (Ava & Erit)

The putrescent aroma of blood and offal that hung, cloying, in the air would have left most emptying their stomachs, but to him it was simply more of the same. The feeling of sweat causing linen to cling to his skin despite the chill of the mid-autumn night was equally familiar, equally banal, barely registering even as an annoyance anymore. The dull reddish-black staining the silver-chased steel of his sword caught his crimson gaze, and with a bored and empty sigh he tore a strip of clean enough linen from a nearby corpse to clean the blade before it etched. How long, again, had this been his routine? Twenty years? Fifty? Five hundred? How many years need it continue? He knew the answer, of course it would always continue. The cause had been forgotten even to the immortal side, if it had ever been known at all all that remained was retribution, reprisal, revenge and repetition. On and on they'd fight them for their reasons, him for her sake, and once she was gone it would be out of grief and desire to reunite with her in oblivion. A shudder ran through his frame, tall and definite and clad in dark shades of leather and cloth, at the thought of her absence. At the prospect of never knowing her smile again, never seeing the sparkle of her eyes, never feeling the softness of her caress. No, such a thing could not be allowed, be accepted she must be kept safe, and so he would sortie and fight this worthless enemy time and again no matter how many years it demanded, all so he could feel her in his bed, safe and sound. It was funny, really when they had both still been mortal, he would never have thought of his sister as a lover. They had been close, certainly, finding what little comfort they could in the world within each other's embrace, but once their Father had turned them, she had gradually come to be his bride as well as his twin. It was forbidden, of course, by mortal standards, but then again so was their very existence as vampires. When they had taken each other's chastity so very long ago, they'd done it knowing, wanting the fact that there would be no going back. And ever since, their blood relation had only seemed to make them dearer and more ravishing to each other. He shook the musings from his head, replacing the sword in his scabbard and trudging back, sighing wearily, to that place he called home. The manor and keep where she was doubtlessly waiting, with its spires and arches and gargoyles showing its clear Gothic architecture. The way between the site of the skirmish and the road to their city was an obscure one, a shadowed footpath that mere humans could not find except by day, but his kind held superior enough nightvision to make such a thing trivial in the extreme. His retinue however, struggled far more, being mostly mindless puppets, and lacking many of the blessings a true member of their kind held. With a tired harrumph, scrubbing one of his pale, slender hands through thick ebon locks, he left them behind, knowing that they would find the way eventually and lacking the time or interest to play thrallherd. When he arrived at the house of his family, which sheltered both his sister and himself as well as the others of their kind, it was with dawn only an hour away, the silvery grace of the moon long gone and the company of the stars beginning to wane. He didn't bother with announcing his presence in any way, as the thralls which served as guards could not raise a hand against their Prince anyway. The clack clack clack of his boots against the floor should have served as ample notice to his return, but all the same he sent one of the servants a-scurry, bidding them fetch the only lady of the house his sister, his Princess of darkness, and bride. Last edited May 31, 2018