Created By

individulsong

Rate this Story

Embed

As we all have come to understand, Vandoule is a soft creature, one that will follow the mood of his mind rather than succumb to the ways of his own kind through monotony. Ah, but alas, let me introduce myself. I am Creaton, the seer of all things, and creator of bad and good experience. I am the one who watches over all, and can fore see the future. I cannot be called a man, for I am not a living being. I am more of a thought, but a conscience one. If you were to see me, I would be the tree in the midst of overgrowing shrubs, or perhaps I would be the wind blowing the strands of hair over your eyes, frustrating a small child as it plays in a park.

I have watched over Vandoule, closely, for quite some time, and against all judgment, let him struggle to find his own meaning out of life. It isn’t an every day thing for a vampire to suddenly express desires that long ago have died away. Most end up running with the darkness, feeding upon the people of weakness. Oh, but not Vandoule. What a sly creature he was, but wise too, in his own right. You and I, now, have seen his story thus far, and, though I wish he and his companions could continue it, they cannot. For, his life is in the past, and us, we are in the present. I do not usually permit myself to step in situations such as this, but this tale, this life, and this love is too unique to go unnoticed, so, I shall begin.

The next night was dreary, cold, and wet. Fog had come into settle around the cottage houses, and all the cobble stone streets were caked with mud and murky sewer water. Children were snug in their beds resting by a warm fireside; bakers were busy mixing the next morning’s batch of bread. Life went on as usual, despite the hideous weather, life all but for Vandoule and his muse. Vandoule and Olivia were tucked away in the back room of a Court House. Silently, they slipped into the doors unseen as the sun came up and the first official came to open up for the day. The two of them stayed in the back of the room, squeezed into a large crack in the wall, as far as possible to go unsuspected. Lucky for them, the Court House was not in full use, and as the last official locked up for the night, the two of them peered out of the crack and began to flex their muscles.

            “I’m scared, Vandoule. I don’t understand what’s going on!” Olivia sunk down on the floor, sitting in a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking herself back and forth. The benches lined the large, sterile room from the back all the way to the Judge’s chair.

            “Just relax, Olivia. I’m trying to think of a plan.”

            “But what if he finds us! How did he get into Rashel’s body! Where is Rashel?” Vandoule left Olivia’s side and began pacing back and forth down the aisle. His mind was idle with concentration. If there was going to be any hope for him, or for Olivia, he had to think of a way to kill Malicio, though how he was going to do that he was very unsure.

The Court House was large with stairs leading up into a balcony area where more benches lined the walls as closely as possible. In the lower level, the walls were white with the portraits of every great Judge that had served there in the past, with the exception of a few highly reviewed lawyers of the time. The Judge’s desk was directly in front of the aisle’s path, resting high on top of a slight pedestal. The wood was dark mahogany, the chair as black as crow’s feathers, and to one side was a door leading to an office, and on the other was a witness and defendant chair; a door leading out of the Court House to a secret pathway so as to quickly get away from a mob of people if the defendant should be guilty.  Vandoule looked up at all of this, taking it in.

            “How absurd it all is, Olivia.” He at last muttered.

            “What do you mean?”

            “How can such a race, such a people, with all the good that they can have, be compelled to behold within themselves so much evil, so as to force themselves to this place for some kind of judgment? You and I, we have no choice. Our judgment has been paced, but these beings who still have their own lives and their own choices, they condemn themselves to hell before death.” His hands, white as marble, passed over delicately the faces of each Judge. “What does anyone gain?” Olivia stared at him, her eyes lost in her torment, and sad with sudden grief.

            “Men can develop into a lost race, Love.” She replied to him, quickly walking to his side and putting her chin on his shoulder. “What we see of them here, is only half of what they are. If man were not evil, than there would be only good, and thus no need for us. We are only a representative of the choice you speak of, and without the choice, there would be no balance. If only good reined, suddenly, within a foreign Utopia, havoc would sure to break loose. So we are what we are, as men so choose to condemn themselves.” Her hands played with the dirty locks of his hair.

            “But why? Why must it be this way, where we all, creature and human alike, must suffer such torment an agony?” Vandoule’s eyes brimmed with tears.

            “For a creature of the night,” Olivia cooed, “you show such human emotion.” She put her arms around his torso. “Without pain, there would be no way to weigh joy or happiness. So, we all have our fates, and each one plays out, only showing how true we make the balance of life.” Vandoule put his hands on her hands, turned her around, and looked into her eyes.

            “So much wisdom, but so much life I have taken.” Her fingers wiped away the tears, and her lips touched his with such gentle care, it was almost as if he could barely feel them. But then! Oh, such passion there was between them!

In times of great distress, between two lovers, we all know that in most cases emotion will override reasonable thought. And so it was with these two. Cloaked in the darkness of the Court House, the two of them united not only in lust, but also in a love so passionate it was more universal than missionary. The cold marble floor rubbed their white skin as they lusted for the skin, and being creatures, too, lusted for the blood. A bloody love affair, reasoned not out of what was right, but out of sheer fear of not knowing what was to come; to hold onto the one thing the two of them knew they had, someone to hold.