Thread: Opposites Attract (ClearSight & SomethingEsoteric)

Mahogany beneath her feet and velvet between her fingers, these were the two feelings shed never forget the two feelings she loved above all now that she was gone, she , the one child of the night shed ever loved. Jovanna Drasche, The Night Mother, JeghVaehnaah Szilgyi, Rosaline Flemmith, Bright Eyes, Dark Heart and many-many more names sprawled across the span of time it never much mattered which one of them may be reserved for her by the tongue that waggled and the lips that uttered but unless you were a son or daughter, a child of the night beneath her thumb it was almost a certainty she was either a bump in the night worth your fear or a whisper of relief at dawn, she was the death you never saw but knew would come if tested, she was the unseen hand that promised retribution to those shed consider wicked, she was The Night Mother and she called each and every vampire her son or daughter and without question near all were inclined to believe. All were her Sons and Daughters but one, Faith Anderson, deceased 1978, reborn at the hilt of her fang then eviscerated at the claw of a lesser beast, left for dead, blanketed by the first snow of this year her lover, her peace, her serenity, her will to continue this disgustingly long no-life existence of hers. So many names and each preceded her so many names and yet she forgot the only one that really mattered, forgot most things that really mattered all in all she remembered Jo-jo slipping so delicately off those lips, and long-long before that, before any of it all she remembered velvet and mahogany. All else really was a blur, at least, she had trouble remembering much of what came before the advent of gun-powder, the sudden influx of hunters it brought about she often romanticized to her younger thralls that Europe in the late sixteen hundreds was more like the wild west than America ever was for their kind, ignoring the times of the inquisition of course though they were practically childs play by comparison, a silver edged blade never could reach out and touch a no-life like a blunderbuss. For all her reminiscing, it didnt seem to mean much anymore anyway now. With all that was forgotten new memories seemed to hold very little meaning especially now, time seemed to hold very little meaning, especially now lethargy, her old friend, began to grip her close. Faith was a reason for keeping up with her game of chess against herself since all players true no life-kings and queens like herself well, most were forgotten or far removed there was nobody else to play anymore! Nothing much seemed to matter the relationship shed forged with the Lycan she then murdered was a large step forward in her vie for wide spread farming of North America, if they could accomplish this in one urban center they could anywhere, but without Faith to share in the success what did it mean? Nothing really like the rest of the blur, like today blending into last year blending into the last hundred it meant nothing so the Lycan met with her old forgotten friend swift retribution and back to biding her time she went, waltzing plaintively through the theatre she called home bare feet on mahogany, her long slender winter-white fingers stroking the long flowing velvet curtains she could still smell her on them. Now of course Jovanna didnt fancy herself the sort to get too terribly caught up on a mere thirty some odd years but then, here she was, acting so human it disgusted her! YeVannah! yet another name that meant very little to her the tone of the voice that carried it however did. Jovanna groaned and looked up from what had been distracting her so YeVannah Weve been attacked! A Ly- A lycan She responded, her sharp nose wrinkled in disgust for the scent she found greeting her, You went to The Narrows and were chased out by a dog. Jovannas voice was calm, her prose little different, there was a certain loving air to her voice but the sort that was given by an overbearing parent not by a fearless leader, maybe this was why all her thralls were so unquestioning about her origins. All knew her as the night mother, many believed her the first female vampire ever she never once argued the point nor did she prove it, it went back to her game of chess, no players left but herself as far as she knew. I can smell it on you love, and you, and you. come, tell mother what happened. Damned mutt. Jovana growled, slamming her fist down upon her desk, high up in a loft above the theatre, the room beautifully decorated with rose gold, more deep dark wood with beautiful grain, lavish velvets and silks, couches, conversation pieces, ancient tomes, grimoires, atlas and encyclopedia, crystal pillars with chilled cubes and dark bottles the thick acrid scent of blood only honey sweet to those like her this was her sanctuary, now with little if any solace invaded by the thought of a single Lycan nearly putting an end to three of her thralls. There had been whispers of a new Lycan taking up the reigns of their late successor, was she so bold as to allow such actions? Of course with the death of their Alpha activity picked up, as was expected, Jovanna just believed there would be too many blood feuds between the mutts to worry about her sons and daughters flirting with the borders of their lands for a midnight snack it wasnt as if theyd stepped into entirely into Lycan territory, they were in no-mans land of that much she was sure. It didnt make any damned sense. If the lone Lycan was intent on protecting their borders why not kill her thralls? Lycans werent smart enough to suggest one without words, if there was a message why hadnt her three poor children spoke of it? Well whatever the case, on this night, dawn quick approaching there was little if anything she could do to solve it. Tomorrow however, action would need be taken, she need find out just who this Lycan was and if this was a message, a threat or an old tired womans paranoid delusion.