The Night Eternal

[ArtintheBlood]

She lost herself in the music as she closed her eyes and tipped her head back to wash her face in the surreal glow of the club lights. It was an unusual sensation to lose herself in dance and music. Cheryth near felt as if she was cheating on a lover. Art. Painting and Sculpting, even sketches and drawing were her beloved. This seemed like a sin.

Her Beloved. Yes that was her passion, her talent, her gift. Her Beloved was Art. It was in her blood as if she was predestined for such greatness.

The vampire opened her eyes as the realization sank into her. How long had she been lying to herself?

Forever and a Day.

She kept on telling herself that she knew that Art was her Beloved but it was not so. Her Beloved lived, Her Beloved was Alive and real... as Alive as she was at least.

It seemed like only yesterday...

Cheryth had become adjusted to being a governess. Despite her yearning for freedom and single solidarity she became fond of the children. It didn't mean that Cheryth was seeking a respite to plan a future into motherhood. The children were a sign of life, and even in Cheryth's graceful aging past maidenhood she found such something to treasure. No one could live forever.

"You do well with them. I was worried when they suggested you as a governess but I see they made the right choice. So beautiful..."
"Pardon me sir, yet I believe my looks are not of a benefit to my skills with the children."
"Oh but they are... in my eyes."

Horrified she took a step back and another until she hit the wall. In a corner. Cornered like an animal. Cheryth would not give the man the pleasure of letting him see her fear. Not even when he cuffed her across the face when she struggled and fought. Her nails had scratched his flesh but it was not enough to fend off the man's advances.

A struggle as fabric tore. So this was how it was going to be. How it would end. As any young woman she had daydreamed of sweeter loses of maidenhood. A close of eyes and she prayed.

The pounding on the door and a clearing of throat sounded like salvation.

"Sir..."
"What is it Thomas?!? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Thomas flickered a sympathethic glance to Cheryth but said nothing. He wasn't allowed. They both were silenced.

"Forgive me sir. There is a young gentleman at the door asking for you."
"Tell him I'm Busy!!! I don't have the time for this nonsense."
"He refuses to leave..."

Cheryth knew by the frustrated sound that she was safe. For the time being. She waited until he left before moving to the window. A press of palm to the window before bringing it open to reach out into the night. Giving in to the Darkness as she gazed within its dark confines.

Looking down in that sweet dark she saw the man standing upon the front step. Before Thomas could escort him inside she saw the man look up and meet her gaze. A knowing smile on his lips as he tipped his hat in acknowledgement. Her Salvation. He would save her from this place... maybe not tonight, but soon. She knew it to be true, she believed it. Thus it would be. He was her Salvation...

He was her Beloved.

Cheryth pushed her way through the crowd to escape the club. She sought the comfort found only within the embrace of Darkness. She walked with grace and beauty now as she lost herself again to the night.

Despite the lies she told herself, she sought him. As she always had. As she always would. Thus it would be.

[LifeInDarkness]

Pale, but strong fingers held the crystal glass by the delicate stem. The motif of melody in two ascending half tones, with an incorporated and very sorrowful diminished third which continued it’s opus from the beginning in many variations filled the room. Sev remembered seeing the mass, conducted by Anton?n Dvoř?k the very first night it was performed in Birmingham, England.

The lightning flashed outside of the penthouse that was home for now. He’d spent a small fortune being certain the windows were dark enough during the days to walk through his home, and clear enough at night that he could watch over the city below.

The soprano started to sing over the haunted melody, and he remembered the first time he met the artist. Frail, scared, and when she saw him from the window above, hopeful. She was beautiful even then, just as she was when she walked out the door the last time he had seen her. Even when she changed, she had ways of making him feel alive... a feeling that he’d not known before meeting her for nearly a century, and since she left. Time passed in the blink of an eye when he felt alive. But, when he was just living, it seemed to pass with the slowest of minutes.

There was a stirring sound and a moan from his bedroom. Then a lamp crashed to the floor. The brass started their low march, just as Sev stood from the chair he had been staring over the city in, and moved toward the room. Without turning on a light, he could see her as she struggled to find her shoes, intent on making an escape. Her words, no matter how softly muttered were heard as if whispered by a lover near his ear.

“Leaving so soon?”
“You stay away from me.” Her voice shook with fear, and Sev found himself smiling as the orchestra started in with the singers, and percussion entered.
“You know I can’t do that, Petit.” He smiled, and felt the points of fangs pressed into his lower lip. “You know too much to walk out of my home.”

He stepped closer and she shrank against the bed.

“I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

He knew that she wouldn’t.

She rolled from the other side of the bed, to run for the door. She left her shoes, intent on an attempt to save her life. His smile grew. He loved it when they pleaded, then thought they had a chance to survive.

“I will not be hunted out of my home again.” The words reached her ears about the same time he did.
One arm closed around her middle, the other moved to pull her head to the side, the veins pulsing with every beat of her heart.

She screamed.

He knew no one would hear.

The entire top floor was his.

His fangs sank into her neck as the soprano started to wail in despair, and mourn the death of a lover. Her fingers flexed against his arms, then dropped to her sides. The baritone sang of ascension into the heavens, as Sev wiped his mouth. His eyes flicked to the window, then he stared as he felt something.
She was coming.

[ArtintheBlood]

The night shadows claimed her, enveloped her like a lover drawing her into an embrace. Her shoulders hunched as if to ward from the cold but Cheryth was wise enough to know the gesture was to ward from her emotions. Remembering the past had drawn upon a weariness within her spirit as easy as a violinist to draw a bow upon strings. Even in the night she could hear music.

It was not so strange to believe that a district of wealth would populate the night with the elegance of sound. A symphony that brought the Artist to pause. A crescendo of desparation and longing that seemed mated not with notes but with a voice. A... scream?

Strangled into silence.

From London to New Orleans, the Artist would not so easily forget the sweet, copper aroma of that which she had denied herself for so long. Head flung back to look toward the night sky she drew in a deep breath and scented the air.

It was a subtle movement as the involuntary shudder of pleasure rippled along her limbs. A parting of lips to exhale a soft sound of desire and longing before she bit her lip, cutting off the sound.

There would be none of that.

She did not move to rush to the defense of a dying harlot. Cheryth was many things but she was not an avenging angel. Never a vigilante for those that had turned from her. Women.

At least in this turn of time some of the women were more reasonable... more...independent.

The azure blue fire of her eyes darted towards a window as the product of an English nobleman and a French harlot looked upon more then the night. The porcelain visage of Cheryth's facade paled even more as it seemed she was being tricked by time itself.

Another step back and the woman stumbled out into the street. Her arms wrapped around her stomach as if to hold herself together. Cheryth had always been a strong woman but this moment felt as if her spirit was being torn to shreds.

"Non... It cannot be..."

Just like the first moment.

Not in the bar when she had first caught a glimpse of him in London. The moment he had ended up on the doorstep of the Elder Edmund Winters. The night when he had stood on the doorstep and become something more to her. He had saved her from a life of enforced servitude as an Elder's wife and prize.

The memories made her sullen and bittersweet with longing as she gazed upon the light burning through the hazy gauze of the curtains. The curtains parted and Cheryth drew in a shaky breath and stood her ground.

Funny the thought.

So long ago it had been him on the doorstep and she at the window. My times had changed.

The thought brought a fragment of a smile upon her lips as the azure blue fire of her eyes gazed from beneath the shimmering black lattice work of her veiled hat. She was grateful for the veil between their eyes. It shaded the regret those blue eyes possessed. Defiance and Independence had made her a fool.

She never should have left his side...

After all this time she would be a fool to believe that they could just return to the way things once were. Cheryth turned away and put her back to the window as she took the first steps to walk away.

Turning her back was the most reasonable way she knew how to hide her tears.