Satis House

[Vikteren]

+Rotting Lunacy+

Gracefully Antha stepped out of the car, slipping the keys into her pocket. "Merci, monsieur," she thanked him politely, sweeping a slight curtsy before walking over to hop onto the glossy hood of the car, seating herself there as if she was quite used to it, "Aunt Mary Jane didn't know how accurate she was when she said that chivalry is dead." Again she gave him that wicked little grin, the adrenaline from the drive still fresh and hot in her veins.
That was when the look of deep thought---accompanied this time by an avid curiosity---came to her face again, her head tilting to the side as a habit of her rumination. She couldn't quite tell what had sparked it, or why she considered it. Perhaps she was merely curious as to his reaction, or maybe it was that she actually wanted it. With Antha, there was no telling. "Vikteren---" But regardless of her motivation, she voiced her thoughts as she saw fit. "What would you do if I asked you to kiss me?"

The vampire looked at her for a moment that stretched out into an eternity, unfettered by the boundaries of time.
He took a step towards her, cupped her face in his hands, gently, like one would the bloom of a flower.
His lips were chilled against hers, cool as marble, but they warmed rapidly as his skin adjusted to her body temperature.
It had been a very long time since his kiss had brought anything but the promise of death to come.
He could feel his body anticipating it, hearing the pulse in her veins, the throb of her heart.
When he pulled away, he left a thin trickle of blood upon her lower lip, where his extended canines had nicked her.
His eyes were green as watercress when he looked at her, when he reached forward and carefully wiped the blood from her lips.
"That."  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

She sat still for a moment, dazed it seemed, hearing the increase of her heartbeat. Lightly she traced the incisions in her lip, licking the blood away in a manner so easy that Lawrence would have cringed. Antha had spent a good deal of time around vampires, so drinking blood was of perfect familiarity to her.
Finally, directing her gaze up at Vikteren and then off into the distance, Antha closed her eyes and sighed. "Hollow," she commented softly, hopping down from the hood of the car and starting towards the back door, "It's not much of a victory when I practically ask you to do it, is it?" She expected no answer, and so she waited for none. Rather she slipped inside the house, into the kitchen, stopping only to close a drawer of knives. Careless, she didn't notice for a moment that one of the blades had slid against her index finger, slicing the skin cleanly open, and only when the steady drip, drip, drip of blood came did she finally notice. She stopped there, standing in the hallway that, were it not for the vague haze of dusty moonlight entering the windows in the rooms adjoining the hall, should have been perfectly black darkness, putting the cut to her lips as little children do in useless attempts to heal their small wounds. All it did was make the taste of blood completely and utterly dominant in her mouth.

 

[Vikteren]

+Rotting Lunacy+

She sat still for a moment, dazed it seemed, hearing the increase of her heartbeat. Lightly she traced the incisions in her lip, licking the blood away in a manner so easy that Lawrence would have cringed. Antha had spent a good deal of time around vampires, so drinking blood was of perfect familiarity to her.
Finally, directing her gaze up at Vikteren and then off into the distance, Antha closed her eyes and sighed. "Hollow," she commented softly, hopping down from the hood of the car and starting towards the back door, "It's not much of a victory when I practically ask you to do it, is it?" She expected no answer, and so she waited for none. Rather she slipped inside the house, into the kitchen, stopping only to close a drawer of knives. Careless, she didn't notice for a moment that one of the blades had slid against her index finger, slicing the skin cleanly open, and only when the steady drip, drip, drip of blood came did she finally notice. She stopped there, standing in the hallway that, were it not for the vague haze of dusty moonlight entering the windows in the rooms adjoining the hall, should have been perfectly black darkness, putting the cut to her lips as little children do in useless attempts to heal their small wounds. All it did was make the taste of blood completely and utterly dominant in her mouth.

Then do not ask.
The answer came anyways, whether she wanted it or not, dismissive and only half-attended to--as the kiss had been. A response to a question, and nothing more.
Vikteren turned his eyes upwards.
The sky was lovely this morning, turning grey as dawn approached. A veil of clouds hung over the sky, laced with shadows and the promise of rain.
He followed her into the house, watched her bleed, watched her attend to her pain.
This was not his world. She could no more ask him for his kiss than she could her reflection.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

I did not ask, she retorted shortly, turning to him, I merely asked what you would do if I did ask. It was rare that Antha ever verbally called attention to what she considered an insult, but it was quite certainly there in her eyes, perhaps even a little hurt glimmering in the depths of glassy emerald green. "And I never said I regretted it, either," she added childishly, turning on her heel and stomping up the stairs and down the hall to her room.
She didn't slam the door---and she did not see why---but she pushed it closed to kick off her shoes, muddy from the forest, throw the filthy clothes she had worn that day into the bottom of her closet, and put on what she always slept in---a shirt forcefully taken from Nicolae, thin material with a collar and long sleeves that buttoned up the front and swallowed her figure. It was then that she curled up in the chair beside her window, hugging her knees with one arm and lighting a cigarette with the other hand as the door opened without the slightest touch.

 

[Vikteren]

+Rotting Lunacy+

I did not ask, she retorted shortly, turning to him, I merely asked what you would do if I did ask. It was rare that Antha ever verbally called attention to what she considered an insult, but it was quite certainly there in her eyes, perhaps even a little hurt glimmering in the depths of glassy emerald green. "And I never said I regretted it, either," she added childishly, turning on her heel and stomping up the stairs and down the hall to her room.
She didn't slam the door---and she did not see why---but she pushed it closed to kick off her shoes, muddy from the forest, throw the filthy clothes she had worn that day into the bottom of her closet, and put on what she always slept in---a shirt forcefully taken from Nicolae, thin material with a collar and long sleeves that buttoned up the front and swallowed her figure. It was then that she curled up in the chair beside her window, hugging her knees with one arm and lighting a cigarette with the other hand as the door opened without the slightest touch.

Left alone in the hallway, the vampire hissed in frustration, and did not feel the need to confine himself to moving at a human's pace.
One moment, Antha was alone in her room.
The next, the door was slightly wider and Vikteren was there, standing at the window across from her, staring at her hard, arms crossed and shoulders tensed in the old, familiar pattern of fierce, arrogant independance. He had stood much the same way when Antha first met him.
His irises were the color of moss, flecked with pinpricks of emerald that glittered in the dark, maliciously, in a way he had learnt from his sire's amusements.
"You should not sulk, Princess. It suits you all too well."
He leaned back against the wall.
"You ask a curse upon yourself, Antha. If that kiss were anything but hollow, then both of us would soon regret it. You--" with a blur of movement, he stood before her, one finger on her scarlet lips. "--would be dead. And mark this-- I would regret it. And that is as close as we should come to any answers to your unasked questions."  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

"Would I now?" Antha did not close her eyes or cast her glance elsewhere as often she did when she was frustrated. Instead the glassy emerald of her eyes kept sharply focused upon his own eyes, her fingers closing around his and lowering his hand an inch or so. "And why is that, mon cher?"
It was usually an easier fight on her part. Vampires feared killing her---well, some of them---but she had slept with too many and controlled them well enough to preserve herself that they had never questioned her when she mentioned it. Besides, all she had to do was promise a little draught of her blood and they were thoroughly swayed to her will.
That was what made her angry. So many vampires she had lured into her bed, and this one wouldn't so much as kiss her. Not really, anyways.
"Tell me, why would I be dead?" Still she stared at him, rising to her feet to better face him, and for a moment she thought of the car keys on the kitchen counter. She thought of David alone in his study, pouring over files and copying down accounts of what he'd seen while his body fought sleep. She thought of his crowded room overflowing with books and clocks and antiques that had belonged to this witch or that coven master and thought that she could put him to sleep and slip out before it even reached midday.
However, she also thought that she'd regret it. It had never seemed right using David in such a fashion. She couldn't use him to rid herself of her anger and frustration, and when she came home with his scent on her she'd feel the remorse settle in strongly.
So she stood still and quiet, glaring up at Vikteren and waiting for an answer.

 

[Vikteren]

+Rotting Lunacy+

"Would I now?" Antha did not close her eyes or cast her glance elsewhere as often she did when she was frustrated. Instead the glassy emerald of her eyes kept sharply focused upon his own eyes, her fingers closing around his and lowering his hand an inch or so. "And why is that, mon cher?"
It was usually an easier fight on her part. Vampires feared killing her---well, some of them---but she had slept with too many and controlled them well enough to preserve herself that they had never questioned her when she mentioned it. Besides, all she had to do was promise a little draught of her blood and they were thoroughly swayed to her will.
That was what made her angry. So many vampires she had lured into her bed, and this one wouldn't so much as kiss her. Not really, anyways.
"Tell me, why would I be dead?" Still she stared at him, rising to her feet to better face him, and for a moment she thought of the car keys on the kitchen counter. She thought of David alone in his study, pouring over files and copying down accounts of what he'd seen while his body fought sleep. She thought of his crowded room overflowing with books and clocks and antiques that had belonged to this witch or that coven master and thought that she could put him to sleep and slip out before it even reached midday.
However, she also thought that she'd regret it. It had never seemed right using David in such a fashion. She couldn't use him to rid herself of her anger and frustration, and when she came home with his scent on her she'd feel the remorse settle in strongly.
So she stood still and quiet, glaring up at Vikteren and waiting for an answer.

"Because, if I should kiss you--not a hollow kiss, as you say, but of my own volition--then it would be because I love you. And I have seen many young girls in the span of my existence, some as pretty as you, as young, a very few with the same spark of life in them, and it has saved none of them. And I have seen too many of them die for unworthy reasons--of sickness, of age, of a wound that would have healed if they had been of my race. And I could not bear the death of someone that I loved so dear. The turning is not pleasant, and I have never bestowed the burdens--the 'gift' of it upon any human. But then again, I have never fallen in love with any human, either."
He watched her steadily, searching her features for some twinge of expression within them.
And when he found it, he frowned slightly, and pulled away.
"I hope that I am not correct when I assume, by the merit of that look in your eye, that you are plotting something, Antha."  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

The witch girl did not even respond to him. Her eyes flashed hate---just for a moment, but it was certainly there---before she turned on her heel and exited the room. The umbra made a shell about her as she continued on through the house and, eventually, out of it, protecting her from any force that might wish to stop her.
The light was dim and gray, but it existed and she hoped that Vikteren would be smart enough to shut the covers on the windows---they were in every room of her house, shutters and blinds and curtains that made the dark impenetrable within---and she would be left to her own.
She took her car, navigating the narrow lane through the woods that most drivers would have killed themselves on, and then made it to the heart of the city, stopping before a gleaming mammoth structure of silvery windows and security guards every ten feet. A sign out front named the tower 'Leonelli Enterprises'. It was here that slid out of the car, slamming the door shut, and entered without anyone saying a word to her.

 

[Vikteren]

"Antha, you can't--" and he nearly started after her, after that look which
hurt
like a brand
But he didn't. He stopped at the door and watched her vanish down the hall, and he watched her drive away from the window.
He stood, paced the room like a caged tiger, raw and taut and driven with pent-up frustration.
The urge to destroy something, to pick up some bone-china knick-knack of Antha's and hurl it against the wall with a satisfying crash, nearly overwhelmed centuries of self-restraint and good breeding.
He settled for a vehement curse, and flung himself into Antha's abandoned chair, sinking his head into his hands.
I'm off-kilter.
He extended a hand and made a sharp gesture with his long, pale fingers. The curtains yanked violently shut of their own accored, relinquishing the room to darkness once again.
And now it was dawn, and he could no longer follow her.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

She came up the driveway and parked her car in a fashion that suggested it could be no one but her driving. And she sat there, silent, listening to the hum of Mozart and the car's engine purring as the drizzle began around the dark tinted glass.
Finally, she worked up the energy and, maybe, the nerve to cut off the engine, step outside, and go back into her house. She left the keys on the kitchen counter like always and went to her room. No hesitation at the door, she just opened it and stepped in, leaning her back against it when she was inside so that it closed, the cuts on her shoulder soothed by the compression, having been threatening blood again.
The scent of Claire clung to her, reminding her of him, and her muscles tensed momentarily for it.
Vikteren was acknowledged quietly, her eyes flashing over him in the total darkness since she decided against flipping the little plastic switch on the wall beside her. And then immediately her eyes were on the floor and she was merely leaning, quiet, against the door, her hair slowly dripping the mist of water that had collected upon it to the floor.

 

[Vikteren]

+Rotting Lunacy+

She came up the driveway and parked her car in a fashion that suggested it could be no one but her driving. And she sat there, silent, listening to the hum of Mozart and the car's engine purring as the drizzle began around the dark tinted glass.
Finally, she worked up the energy and, maybe, the nerve to cut off the engine, step outside, and go back into her house. She left the keys on the kitchen counter like always and went to her room. No hesitation at the door, she just opened it and stepped in, leaning her back against it when she was inside so that it closed, the cuts on her shoulder soothed by the compression, having been threatening blood again.
The scent of Claire clung to her, reminding her of him, and her muscles tensed momentarily for it.
Vikteren was acknowledged quietly, her eyes flashing over him in the total darkness since she decided against flipping the little plastic switch on the wall beside her. And then immediately her eyes were on the floor and she was merely leaning, quiet, against the door, her hair slowly dripping the mist of water that had collected upon it to the floor.

He nearly didn't move, but he could smell her, the trace of a desire not her own, could hear her heartbeat echoing around the room, and he finally composed his features and raised his head, and the vampire skewered her with a look that, even without the effects of their shocking hue, held the full effect.
"Who was he?" he asked softly, rising from the chair and turning his profile back to the shuttered windows.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

"That question," she replied softly, any trace of malice she might have intended stripped from her voice---the best placement of her tone was hollow, "Is reserved for someone who would care." Had Nicolae asked, she would have told him. Had David or Singe or Aaron or any of the others who were in love with her, if only slightly, asked who she had been with, she would have told them.
Because they had a right to know.
Because they cared.
And if Vikteren did care---and she suspected he didn't---it wouldn't be the same. Yet the question made her uneasy, had her fingers closing habitually over the Mayfair emerald strung around her neck, made the cuts on her shoulder and the bite marks on her neck ache. And somehow, it made her regret Claire for a moment. It made her upset that she had not been at Mayfair Manor, pacing Julien's room while the words flowed out in a heated stream until he hugged her to him and stroked her hair.
For a moment her lips parted and she would have said something, but the torn skin on her bottom lip caught her attention and she pressed her fingers to the incisions, gently, and kept quiet.

 

[Vikteren]

+Rotting Lunacy+

"That question," she replied softly, any trace of malice she might have intended stripped from her voice---the best placement of her tone was hollow, "Is reserved for someone who would care." Had Nicolae asked, she would have told him. Had David or Singe or Aaron or any of the others who were in love with her, if only slightly, asked who she had been with, she would have told them.
Because they had a right to know.
Because they cared.
And if Vikteren did care---and she suspected he didn't---it wouldn't be the same. Yet the question made her uneasy, had her fingers closing habitually over the Mayfair emerald strung around her neck, made the cuts on her shoulder and the bite marks on her neck ache. And somehow, it made her regret Claire for a moment. It made her upset that she had not been at Mayfair Manor, pacing Julien's room while the words flowed out in a heated stream until he hugged her to him and stroked her hair.
For a moment her lips parted and she would have said something, but the torn skin on her bottom lip caught her attention and she pressed her fingers to the incisions, gently, and kept quiet.

He started to say something scathing about her apparently endless, readily available supply of living toys--and then stopped.
The vampire turned back to her, leaned against the wall, and nodded. "You're right. It is not any of my affair, is it?"
There was a curiously melancholy tone in his voice, and he nearly bit the words back when they came next. "I apologize. I should not have kissed you--it was very forward of me. May we not--make peace between us, Antha, rather than circling one another as though we are jackals sparring for dominance?"  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

For a moment, Antha was still and silent, her eyes watching him, expressionless. "Don't apologize." By her tone, it could not be mistaken for a request rather than a command. "Just...go to sleep." And just like that, she slipped back out the door and went down the hall, to the library, where when she opened the door the sun met her eyes, breaking through the gray clouds, and little Amadeo curled up on the chair by the window.
She laid down on the carpet, in the rectangle of light from the window, and for a minute she just lay curled up with the blood seeping through the material of her clothes, slowly, Amadeo hopping down and settling himself in the crook of her arm.
And she wasn't mad. Nor was she upset or frustrated or frightened or regretful of her morning with Claire.
Antha needed the quiet, the stillness, the calm atmosphere, and the solitude. "Just until dusk," she told Amadeo softly, stifling a yawn and closing her eyes heavily against the sun, "Let it just be us until night falls, alright?" And she scratched his ears, starting him up like an engine, before she fell asleep.

 

[Vikteren]

+Rotting Lunacy+

For a moment, Antha was still and silent, her eyes watching him, expressionless. "Don't apologize." By her tone, it could not be mistaken for a request rather than a command. "Just...go to sleep." And just like that, she slipped back out the door and went down the hall, to the library, where when she opened the door the sun met her eyes, breaking through the gray clouds, and little Amadeo curled up on the chair by the window.
She laid down on the carpet, in the rectangle of light from the window, and for a minute she just lay curled up with the blood seeping through the material of her clothes, slowly, Amadeo hopping down and settling himself in the crook of her arm.
And she wasn't mad. Nor was she upset or frustrated or frightened or regretful of her morning with Claire.
Antha needed the quiet, the stillness, the calm atmosphere, and the solitude. "Just until dusk," she told Amadeo softly, stifling a yawn and closing her eyes heavily against the sun, "Let it just be us until night falls, alright?" And she scratched his ears, starting him up like an engine, before she fell asleep.

He remained perfectly motionless until she left the room, at which point he sighed, and pushed a hand back through his hair. The apology had done nothing to alleviate the frustration she inspired--if anything, it had made it worse.
But he couldn't deny that she was correct. The sun was rising in the sky even as he stood, and it was more effort than it was worth to stay awake any longer.
He leaned against a wall and let himself slide to the floor, and it was in that position that he fell into the sleep of the dead.