A Lovers Love In Death



(Kind of a random rp idea. I hope it works out. ^.^' No profiles needed)

The blood of the monster, he was watching, with the silver glint in his eyes.
A grip of hate wrapped around her form, trapping her in his grip. Collared in nails as she was choked by death. They burrowed into her flesh as she tried to un-strap the collar. Her hands rose up to pull out the nailed weapon, which pierced her skin. Her mouth opening and blood was coughed out, her eyes wide open as she slowly died, choking on nothing. Her hands drooped to her side as she fell against the wall, and her body slid down, her head tilted to one side. A few drops of red beads rolled down her mouth, dripping onto the cold stone floor.

"Hmmm…I smell the rose of death. And it smells so fresh. It blooms for me from the blood of man. Yes…"

A hand reached down touching the spot of blood, gently putting a finger down, which was slender and tan. Pressed the finger on the blood and brought it back up to his mouth. A long tongue appeared and licked it off the finger. He put his hand at his side and stared at the woman, her whole body stained in blood, even her lovely white gown and strawberry hair.

Yet there was remorse on his face as he waved a hand of disgust at the body and turned away. He couldn't look at her, as if he knew her from somewhere long ago, having regretted having to taste her blood.

A young boy came from nowhere and walked over to the woman and knelt to her level, his hands touched the leather choker and undid the strap, slowly taking it off. The nails slowly came out of the punctured holes created in her neck by them. He looked at the wounds and frowned. Then placed the choker into a box and shut the lid tightly, then quickly disappeared down a dark corridor.

The voice spoke again. "The blood of man shall fall and we shall rise again. For you can not love a human, then thou show remorse of her body, you shall die as well…"

The young immortal looked at his master and stood tall, even if it was the end of his immortal ages. Maybe the wind would take his soul in, so he could join his mortal bride. He looked at his master once more, staring into the silver eyes, looking at the short black hair. He had no more fear. If it ended he would be somewhere away from this cold, heartless world. Where immortals and humans may rest together. He stood tall; the master looked upon him as kid would have looked at a dead pet.

It would all end now…no more of this cursed living in the darkness, no more feeding off people. Once he was destroyed he could soar into the gusts of wind and become a little butterfly, flying away. His long blonde hair curtained his face as he looked at the ground, having no shadow made him feel made of stone just like the ground. His hands drooped to his sides and he waited.

He heard the sound only a sword would make when it was taken out its sheath. His head slowly rose and he stared at the long sword and straightened himself. His master looked at him, stern in the eyes. The sword was raised.

"Any last words Vincent?"

He nodded and looked at the immortals in the room. 'You condemn me to die, tortured my love to death, but this will never tear our love apart. Neither will it stop others from loving each other. One day immortals and mortals will be one…you'll see.'

As his former sire stepped up to him. Vincent looked into his sire’s eyes. He waited for the right moment. Just as his sire swung his sword at him, he grabbed hold of the blade. Ignoring the pain of the blade cutting into his hand, he pushed at the man. The man lost hold of the sword and stumbled back. He caught the sword and turned it on its own master. The vampire stared again into his sire’s eyes. He wanted to kill him right there and than, but he couldn’t get himself to. “I swear I’ll kill you…� He glanced at the dead form of his love.

Vincent stepped back and onto the ledge of a window. He didn’t want to die, not even for her. He dropped the sword and jumped off. Landing on the ground Vincent raced into the woods hoping to escape the cold hard world his kind lived in.

(This is just a suggestion, that’s why it itnst all that long ^^ Caitiff would be playing the sister Amber if you liked it. If you don’t like it that’s fine toos ^^ )

As Vincent let his sire live . . . another was taking in a breath only to wail as the cold air entered their fragile new lungs, encased her small body replacing the warmth she had known in her mothers womb . . . Another wail sounded through the small hospital room, emitted from a second little body just as small and weak as the first.

They were two separate souls coming from opposite ends of the world. Both of them having drawn the last breaths of their old lives and at the same time, both were taking another in another. They were both being born and dying at the same time.

As time past they grew up. Their all American father mourned the death of their lovely part Gypsy mother Dahlia’s death. She didn’t last but a few days after the harsh birth in the small clinic. Both the babies survived. David reluctantly took them in . . . even if they were the only pieces of his beloved Dahlia he had left he hadn’t wanted the burden of children.

Adelaide grew into her mother’s lithe figure. Her dark locks contrasted beautifully with her bright green eyes and milky white skin. Amber took on David’s own pale hair and her mother’s dark, dark gypsy eyes. Instead of the deep dark look they sparkled with life, innocence, and curiosity. It was Adelaide that had the dark knowing look. Eyes that made you think they could see right through you or as if she knew some other deep dark secret from the beyond . . .

They grew and lived life together sharing their lives for twenty years. They both traveled down slightly different paths . . .

{{ hi SH, i missed you alot...
not sure what you have in mind for this RP, but here is my post... }}

Vincent's footsteps fell on the leaf-strewn forest floor as he ran, with tears streaking down his face. He tried to wipe them away but more came. He could taste the salt of the tears in his mouth. How could they do this to the only girl he'd ever loved? She was just a dream to him now – an empty body with blood slowly pooling beneath it. It was the same blood which his sire would soon be feeding upon.

He scooped up a few leaves and wrapped his injured hand in them. He liked to imagine that he was somehow different than the rest of his kind, but secretly he knew that he wasn't. Even as his lover had died before him, there was a part of him that wanted to take her in his arms and drain her blood dry.

He was ashamed of himself – ashamed of his own dark tendencies, and ashamed that he'd been too weak to kill his sire. It was supposedly impossible for an immortal to love a mortal, but he'd done it. He still could hear the voice of his lover in his memory. He should have fought his sire, or done something else to prevent what had happened to her, but he knew he couldn't. He just wasn't strong enough compared to the elder vampires.

Vincent cried out in frustration. He sat down at the base of a tree, it's trunk wide enough to keep him hidden. Before him ran a cool forest stream. Its currents bubbled softly in the cool evening air. However, he couldn't enjoy the serenity of it, since all he could think about was the one he'd lost.

(That's fine GothicBloodyGem.)

“Oh sweet darkness, what had become of the young immortals of this century?� whispered a feminine voice. A slight smile crossed a paled tan figure. She had flaming long red hair, which swayed as she turned around to face the sire. “Dear sire or should I reply saying lord Cain…?�

The tall man stared at her holding the sword that his sired child had threatened him with. Cain’s golden eyes glowed with disdain. “Silence you wretched Whore!� He swung the sword at her and she jumped out of its reach. “I don’t need a fool like yourself taunting me right now.�

The woman just smiled and disappeared into the shadows. Cain dropped the sword and ran a hand through his thick brown hair. He stared out the window. “Where will you go Vincent?�

Vincent knelt before the cool forest stream, feeling completely empty. What purpose did his life serve if he could not have his one true love? It all seemed so pointless and empty. He'd live forever, immortal but miserable. He wiped away his final tears from his stinging eyes and clenched his fists in anger. He pushed the long strands of his tangled blonde hair out of his eyes.

He knew that he could not take on lord Cain alone, but if he had the help of others, he knew he could destroy his sire once and for all. He reached beneath his shirt and removed a silver dagger. It gleamed in the moonlight, thirsty for blood. He couldn't do it alone though – he knew his master was too powerful. He'd be crushed before he could even move his arm to throw the dagger.

There was one who he'd seen a few times in the shadows, out of the corner of his eye, in his meetings with his sire. Everyone knew her, but no one talked about her. It was that red-headed enigma, a gorgeous woman who had always helped the weaker vampires against the stronger forces like Lord Cain. She was out there somewhere, and Vincent wondered if the word of the murder of his love had spread through the land. Maybe this angel of darkness would somehow find him and help him.

Sighing, he slid the dagger back beneath his shirt and he began to walk back the way he'd come. There was only one person who could help him now, and if she was out there, surely she would not leave him behind to become the innocent prey of the vampire Cain.

(A little odd, granted, but see if this is another ‘sider’ that you wouldn’t mind having maybe. A struggle btwn Cain and Vincent as well as-maybe- a race to Vincent’s lost love . . . whether its Amber or Adelaide Who knows so far :P. I’m speeding THEM up 20 yrs if you want to for your own chars then that’s your call . . . it wouldn’t be good to have little babes as me and Cat for the big part of the Rp . . . we can ignore the discrepancy there >>)

Life for even the living undead . . . love can do that for a vampire. Living through a human can suck the life out of them but a vampire could. There was even ways for vampires, if they knew how, to share with the other their immortality while the other shared their passion and zeal.

There are ways to live forever . . . happily . . . The secret is love, yes, but the key to a vampires demise is love as well. The vampire is the one taking all the risks. The mortal . . . they can go mad with to many emotions for to many lives and if a vampire loves, and loves to strongly, the wrong person they can’t last . . . the Sire of that vampire, in a few marked and very rare cases, wasted away as well. This is why the immortal will never permit the mortals to close; why the Elders won’t allow it. . : Everyone Suffers.

A new chance, a new start . . . not everyone is allowed that even on earth. . it was love that freed her soul and allowed her to start anew, to start again in another human body. . . Love and the whim of the Devil. He knew what was going to happen and her soul had been his to do with what he pleased . . . Neither God nor Satan can interfere in the Mortal Realm but they both can send Avatars to Earth. They can also simply give souls another chance. You can never tell which it is for Satan but whichever it is all to amuse him . . .

Twenty years can go by in the blink of the eye. With their father always in and out doing odd jobs and making sure they had a roof over their heads and warmth during hard winters, if not love to fill the coldness in side of them, the twins only had themselves to rely on. They finished high school together and, yes, they had their own things. Adelaide ended being a ‘dark’ to Ambers ‘light’ in a way but they were always true to each other above all other boundaries.

Whenever Amber wanted to draw, no matter when, and she wanted a model Adelaide was always available. If she was busy she would make herself available. Ambers art teacher always thought it odd when ‘self portraits’ came back looking like a darker Amber full of secrets and mystery instead of bubbly and innocent as Amber, herself was. It wasn’t until Adelaide finally demanded their father send them to the same school—a fluke accident their father never corrected had placed them in separate middle schools—that the teacher finally understood that it wasn’t Amber Amber was drawing but her twin . . . her ‘other half’.

Adelaide had shown similar tendencies of greatness in her area in middle school . . . she was real good at beating kids up. The only kid in the upper classes she wouldn’t touch was a quietly happy girl with pale hair who no one liked especially. A teacher had once caught Adelaide protecting her when the girl later asked why she quietly replied “You remind me of me.” Past beating kids up she was very quiet, unless angry, and she finished Middle school top of her class.

Entering the same high school they had already started off with their own different ‘friends’ but finally they were together. Adelaide had Theresa, the quiet blonde with a love of nature, and was bound to be valedictorian. Amber had her art friends and the popular girls. She was destined to be Queen Bee of the school . . . that was how their life ended being all the way up till college.

It started again in college. Adelaide wanted to be well versed in all that composed of History and the oddities of Religious Studies while Amber when in for Graphic Design. They found a school, together, in Europe. England is now their home and has been for the past two years. Its relatively boring but their home none the less . . .

lol, dear Gem, at this rate of posting I’m sure the rp will be completed before December 2017 (at the earliest ;) ). Anyway, so all our characters are advancing 20 years and your two characters are the reincarnated souls of Vincent’s dead lover? And my guess is that somehow I will meet you two..!

Yes, I can RP that.

Since this is SH’s RP I will listen to her if she has something to say about it, but I doubt she is even reading this anymore. Let’s keep writing and see what happens.

So just tell me ‘yes’ if I have the story right so far, and then I will post a reply to your post above.

Ok! I talk to much so 'Yes!' And the rest is extra ^^'':

That was what I was trying to get at in my opening post: one death caused another's life. Well . . . that ONE is a reincarnation of a past lover . . . the other twin? Who knows :P thats up to Cat . . . lol kinda gave away a bit there but oh well :P

And It would work easiest to speed up 20 yrs for all of us I was just tryign not to run the rp and said ya'll didn't need to Heh . . . and I'm still leavin it up to SH too ^^ --its all your rp, babe (if you Are readin . . . or saw my Pm ^^')-- I jsut wanted to put in another option . . . plus my Muse ran away with me ;) I couldnt just not post the first post I did when the idea came into my head.

I figured England/Europe would be a likely place for out chars to be round stead of America where the twins were born . . . For the metting Maybe she's drawn to a particular site or art piece that she loved in her past life. I figured that might casue a meeting of some of our chars. After that Cain might want to break the couple up again . . . We have it halved jsut need to connect the two groups if Sh doens't mind the new twist ^^

OOC: x.x oooooo yay. i'm bubbly fresh! haha so how was I suppose to start again? >> should have saved that message...

IC:

The silky sheets were pulled tightly around the fetal position lump when the sunshine slipped in through the curtain. The dream of ice-cream covered bunnies hopping around being tortured by fire-breathing cookie dragons slowly slipped from Amber's dark eyes as the world behind the sheets started to come into focus. 'Mor..ning?'

"Morning!" She exclaimed happily, fighting her way out of the sheets which lead to her rolling off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thump. Finally getting out, reviling her pale hair now completely messy and the huge hotpink hello kitty shirt she wore as her PJs, the girl climbed back up and started to jump on the bed near her sister whom she figured was still asleep. Amber must have sleepwalked into her room again during the night. "Wake up sissy! Wake up!" she sang bouncing off the bed and ran out of the room "and I'll make breakfast."

The young vampire Vincent never lost his youthful appearance, due to his immortality. Even though he had escaped to England to hide from lord Cain, he was always afraid that the elder vampire was out there somewhere looking for him. It had been twenty years since he'd last seen Cain, but the memory was seared into his brain in an unforgettable way. Every so often, he'd wake up from a horrible nightmare of the scene of his lover's death with figure of Cain standing over her body.

--

Vincent sat in his home, safely out of the light of the sun. He was at a rough wooden table upon which books and magazines were stacked. His whole home had a rustic feel – he lived in a crumbling castle which most mortals would consider dreary. Hanging on the walls were elegant tapestries made in a time forgotten by most. He'd even found a few old suits of armor which he'd stood up against the wall.

Flipping through the mail which had just been delivered, one particular flier stood out amongst the other items. It mentioned an art display at the local museum. It read: “European Gothic Paintings by the masters. Open tonight until midnight.�

Vincent smiled. “Perhaps I will meet others of my kind there tonight. Or at least people interested in vampires...�

He prepared to leave, however it was still several hours until sunset.

((Sorry for the wait! if you want you can jsut jump into the next act ^^ no need for the breakfast scene! lol, cute as it is Cat :P))

She rolled over and buried her dark head of hair deeper into her pillow ignoring her sister’s summons. She’s make breakfast anyway . . . and she was to chipper for this early in the morning . . . it was Friday as a rule they were suppose to sleep in. This semester they happened to have a Fri-Sun weekend together. Adelaide stretched, bowing her body inward and curling her legs up to her chest as she always did. Her head arched back and she finally opened an eye.

All Ela saw was her sister flouncing out of her room. Only just at that, not only as her sister fast but El’s room had less lighting than a cave though it was better furnished. Ela sucked in a breath and let it out before she hopped up and all but slid out of the satin and silk cocoon in the guise of a queen sized bed. The four poster was made of hard wood and the curtains were drawn back for the moment showing the massively disheveled bed. Ela only made it when she cleaned her sheets and bedclothes. Other wise it was always in disarray, but with so many pillows and blankets how could it be otherwise?

With a black wife beater and a pair of boxers with the cartoon character ‘Cheese’ on them she started down stairs already smelling the makings of breakfast. . . Ela almost couldn’t get over that they had a ‘downstairs’ and that they were living virtually on their own in a house—their father still helped out some but . . . they paid for most things themselves. It was shocking ot her.

She rolled her shoulders and she walked down the stairs and flung the mass of black hair over her shoulder. It was always in her way but she loved it so she dealt. “What are we making today little sister?� El asked, flipping though the pile of mail. Her eyes narrowed as she saw “European Gothic Paintings by the masters.� ‘Probably have some architecture of the era, too . . .’ she thought vaguely surprised she cared: her sister was the Artist not her. “Open Tonight until Midnight.�

“Hey, who sent us this? Something you have to go to, little sister?� she asked holding up the card. “It looks like it could be fun . . . let’s go.�

Vincent waited until it was completely dark outside before he attempted to venture outside of his castle home. He was dressed in black jeans and a buttoned shirt. Unlike some vampires, he wasn't too dramatic in his appearance – he just wanted to be able to blend in with the other visitors at the museum.

He drove his Mercedes Benz to the museum, silently rolling into a parking space next to the entrance. There didn't seem to be too many visitors tonight – there were only a few cars besides his in the parking lot. Well, that didn't matter. Not everyone had such taste for fine art.

“I'm here for the show,� he announced to a bored-looking woman at the entrance.

She took his money and gave him a ticket, which he shoved in his pocket. He doubted that anyone would be checking for it so he didn't care too much. Upon entering the main chamber of the museum, he could see paintings of ghoulish scenes and photos of some famous gothic buildings. The room was dimly lit, perhaps to give it a spooky feeling. No one was around, so he started looking over the paintings.

The first painting was ironically a portrayal of a vampire. The vampire hovered over a limp body on a bed, his face dripping with blood. The vampire was looking upwards to a priest at the edge of the painting, who held a silver cross above his head and was reading from a bible. The vampire seemed unafraid and the corner of his mouth was turned up in a satisfied smirk.

“A lovely painting, I wonder if it's for sale?� Vincent asked.

She’s worn to much black in high school to limit herself to it now. She liked wearing colors and weird things that didn’t quite clash but didn’t quite match either. Brilliant neon’s or dark jewel tones had invaded her wardrobe. Rings clustered with sparkly rhinestones that only worked with a lot more rhinestones or with somber clothes. Lace and mesh and stretchy fabrics . . . it bespoke her personality: to stand out without meaning to. She could always attract the most interesting of company without meaning to . . .

Tonight she felt the need of black, though. A gothic art exhibit required black . . . didn’t it? It was in the form of a simply dress done in black teardrop lace with a deep blue under layer. With a modest neckline she felt comfortable showing off the milky white of her shoulders and collarbone, the only things obstructing them were simple black straps. Her black hair was upswept and pined with a somber blue jeweled metal clip. Her ears were adorned with silver slivers of shining metal and the knee length dress was gathered together in back by another simple piece of silver with a pretty blue rose worked into the metal.

Amber had opted to stay home for this particular showing . . . she’d mentioned that she had plans but might swing by later. She’d, frankly, been a bit surprised El had even wanted to see the art show. Ela usually never did go to art shows unless they were Amber’s. No real interest.

Once there she’d gone through the art one piece at a time. It wasn’t until she got to the ‘final’ one that she realized she’d gone about the room backwards. They each seemed to stem from the first one . . . and that one looked almost hidden away at that, as if no one should look upon it . . . or if one was suppose to feel the voyager for looking at it. El did, strangely enough, it caught her and froze her. Just something about it. She sighed and circled the room again, the right way, before she was drawn back to the painting.

“It really is lovely . . .� She murmured from behind the man who’d stepped in front of the painting. It had been strategically placed by a one of the columns in the room so that the painting would be cast in some shadow. El had been leaning against the pillar for a while, drawn to the painting. “But she’s smiling,� she murmured, distractedly, confused, “He doesn’t look to happy about hurting her either . . . he almost looks a little sad like he knew it was coming but couldn’t stop it.� Ela frowned again, searching the painting for something that probably wasn’t there. There was something missing . . . something that didn’t quite fit right and she couldn’t figure out what . . . “And he knew the priest would be coming to get him . . . get them maybe . . .� she drifted off again thinking, her hand slowly moving to her lips as she contemplated the portrait again.

Vincent heard an unexpected voice behind him. He hadn't realized that anyone else was nearby. Usually he was able to pick up on such things, due to his heightened senses.

“Maybe they thought that the cost of their sins was worth the pleasure,� he said.

He turned to face the girl who'd spoken to him. She was a dark-haired angel of the night and he was immediately drawn to her. Something about her looked familiar but he couldn't quite place it. He stood, stunned for a moment, trying to recall the memory. Something about the way she spoke reminded him of his long lost lover.

He approached her and there was that unmistakable sensation between them that he hadn't felt for years. .. it had to be her, he was sure – who else could it be? “I thought you died,� Vincent said, simply. “I missed you so much.� He looked at her neck where he'd once seen bloody wounds on the day of her death, but there was nothing, not even a single scar.

Vincent wanted to embrace her but he realized that he could be wrong. Maybe this person was not his dead lover, just someone with a fantastic similarity to her.

“Tell me, where do you come from?� he asked. “I want to be sure that you are who I remember you as.�

The hand not hovering over her moth slid around to rest just above her stomach. It was her usual pose when she was trying to figure something out. El, frankly, wasn’t surprised at the slightly startled look on the man’s face. She’s probably been standing there so long as to have become a fixture in the place. She sighed and shook her head slightly, missing what the man had first been talking about. Probably for the best: she’d have thought him crazy.

She looked past him to the painting. It felt so familiar . . . almost as if she’d been in such a position. “The priest looks out of place,� she mumbled “he doesn’t belong . . . someone else belongs there . . . and it’s not the right face,� she said quietly, “that’s not his face,� she said closing her eyes as a jolt of pain flashed across her brain. Her hand jerked back and up slightly too lightly touch her forehead.

Ela repeated the words again “Someone else belongs there . . .� slowly, before her body moved of its own. She marched across the gallery to the ‘last’ painting of the set. “He belongs there,� she announced abstractly pointing to the man in the painting ‘Rose of Death’ with silver eyes and black hair. “That’s what it was,� she said suddenly. “The priest isn’t there it’s him and the other man doesn’t have the right face . . . he’s not in the gallery� she closed her eyes as her brain throbbed again as scene she didn’t quite know fell into place.

It was in jumbles of sex, love, blood, and pleasure. A jumble of laughter and caring and movement . . . the whole room was different than the one in the first painting. It wasn’t their first time there but he finally let her share with him what she could offer: life. Ela’s hand rose to press against her forehead as everything changed. “He’d found us . . . how, who?� she asked, her voice shifting to a bit higher tone. “What’s gonnna happen?� she asked, her light green eyes wide and glassy as if she was somewhere else . . . the chill of remembered stone and shackles made her shiver.

As if snapped out of it her eyes lost their glassy glaze, “It doesn’t make sense.� She said to nothing, her voice dropping back down to its ‘normal’ tone. Ela shook her head only to pause as she felt her hand curled protectively around her neck. “It’s not his face . . .� she repeated sounding almost tender, looking back to the portrait. Her eyes didn’t make it to the portrait. Instead they met the eyes of the man who’d suggested that they thought it was worth it. Her face blanked in shock as she looked at him “It’s not your face . . .� she said from somewhere else, as someone else, her hand rising to trace the contour of his jaw from across the room. Ela’s sight blurred and everything spun. “To much, doesn’t make . . .� she started even as she lost consciousness ‘. . . sense’ her mind finished the sentence as the darkness stole her senses, trying to give her time to cope with the inexplicable.

Vincent was puzzled by the girl's behavior. She almost seemed to be possessed. She had some strange memories that were being brought back to life. As she pointed out things in the paintings, Vincent began to recognize some things in the painting which he had been so attracted to. It did indeed look a little like a time in his own life. Yet, how could someone have painted a private moment in his life when there was no painter around at the time?

The girl fainted and Vincent moved to her and knelt beside her. He could tell that she was still breathing but she seemed to be under a sort of spell.

“You're a strange, but pretty one,� he said, brushing her hair out of her face with his hand.

Vincent looked around, but nobody else had been in the room to witness what had happened. Besides the cashier in the lobby, the museum was empty. Vincent picked up the girl in his arms, holding her against his chest. The girl's resemblance to his dead lover was so strong. At the very least, he could use her as a source for fresh blood to feed his nocturnal appetite.

He kicked open a museum window and climbed out. Vincent glanced back and forth, but didn't see anyone. He saw the gray reflection of streetlights in the window of his car, which was nearby. He ran to the car as fast as he could and put the girl in the passenger seat next to him. He tilted her seat back and fastened the seatbelt in place so she wouldn't get hurt or fall over while he was driving.

Upon arrival at Vincent's castle-mansion, he carried the girl to the guest bedroom. He took off her shoes and laid her on the bed, covering her with a few blankets. The room had a glass door and a balcony, but he didn't think she'd try to escape, since it was a twenty foot fall to the ground and would probably cause a few broken bones for anyone who tried to jump.

Sitting next to her on the bed in the silent castle, Vincent felt very alone.

“Has my lover come back to me, by some magick I have never heard of?� he said to himself.

He leaned over and breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume. There wasn't anything wrong with her that he could see, and he hoped that she would awaken soon. It somehow seemed wrong to take advantage of her while she was unconscious, but one kiss couldn't hurt. He kissed her cool lips and got up to leave.

She hated having those spells. The type where she doesn’t feel as if she’d in the right time. The type of spells that make her feel as if she should be someone else. . . that she was someone else. This was the only one that included another person though. Thinking about it his face seemed to be in a few of the other ones too . . . she sighed.

Her body twitched as she felt the solidity of something beneath her and she groaned in almost silent protest as the oddly familiar heat let her go. Her head moved restlessly, and her body shifted on the cool sheets until she was surrounded by another sort of heat. Her body took heed and started settling down. Her muscles relaxed further as she heard the voice from her ‘dreams’ but her brows twisted. Don’t be sad, she thought involuntarily, I’m here . . .

She couldn’t seem to say the words aloud entangled as she was between her previous ‘dream’, real dreams, and her bodies weakness from the odd episode. Her muscles always clenched too much, and her joints locked during the dreams her mind overreacted to the point of extremes . . . and this one was more vivid more real. She shuddered seeing the man with the silver eyes.

The coldness that crept in her bones from thinking about he other disappeared at the feel of his lips touching hers. She didn’t need to see him to know . . . to somehow connect the man in the museum to the one in her head. Are they even connected? Ela’s mind whorled and her world spun even though she was laying flat on a bed.

She felt herself being dragged back down into unconsciousness. It was easier there. She didn’t need to think there. She didn’t need to be . . . it was simpler there. How long she ended up staying there she didn’t know but when her eyes opened she found that she was curled into a ball in a foreign bed and it was full night. Ela’s eyes shot open and she sat up in the bed. “Where the fuck…?� she thought pushing the covers back and starting out of the bed.

She groaned and touched a hand to her forehead as everything seemed to spin as she stood. “Maybe I should just stay in the bed . . .� she murmured rubbing her temple and closing her eyes trying to deal with what was happening in her head before she could adjust to her surroundings. As soon as her head slowed down she cracked open an eye to look over the room. It was nice . . . large, overwhelming so, but nice. Ela looked over to the glass doors. Without thinking about it she moved to them and opened them. Stepping out into the night air, she looked up to the sky. “Is anyone here?� she asked quietly gazing at the stars.

Vincent heard some noise in the guest room and guessed that the girl must have awoken. Setting aside a book of dark rituals in his library, he moved quickly to the guest room. It was certain that his guest was confused and lost – probably even worse than when he'd brought her there. He also didn't want to give her the impression that he'd kidnapped her or had any ill intentions.

Upon entering the room, he saw that the doors to the balcony were open and the girl was standing there silhouetted by the moonlight. She appeared almost ghostly, causing Vincent to hesitate before approaching. It was a bit surreal. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the cabinet and two glasses and walked to the door.

Vincent cleared his throat, so that he wouldn't frighten her, and said, “Beautiful night, isn't it? It would be a shame to be alone on a night like this.�

Moving next to her, he sat in one of the wrought metal chairs which was next to a small metal table. He placed the bottle of wine and glasses on the table and crossed his arms thoughtfully.

“This must be a surprise to you, but when you fainted in the museum, I didn't know what else to do with you. This is my home, where you can rest for as long as you like.�

His eyes took in her delicate features in the moonlight. She was an exact image of his dead lover -- there was no question. “Isabel, do you remember me?� he asked. He used the name of his lover, although he doubted that this girl had the same name, unless she was somehow immortal.

“I couldn't forget you... I couldn't love anyone else after I lost you..!� Vincent mumbled, more to himself than to her. “After HE took you away from me!� His voice turned cold and he poured himself a glass of the wine.

She sighed and bit her thumb lightly in frustration. Ela always hated waking up disoriented and waking up in some strange apartment in some strange bed would top the list of her charts. She didn’t even know why she was here or for what reason! If someone doesn’t get here . . . she thought darkly when someone clear their throat behind her .

Her head turned and she watched as the man from the museum stood jut inside of the room. She blinked as he mentioned it being a nice night and she watched as he walked into the room and sat down a little way away from where she was standing. She watched him carefully as he arranged himself in the chair and placed the glasses and wine on the iron wrought table.

Her eyes shifted slowly from the wine to him as he talked. Most would have called for help or something instead of bringing the person home . . . the words were on her lips, the tip of her tongue just waiting to be said when something in his gaze change. He hadn’t stopped looking at her but some . . . pretence had been let go of. She watched him silently as he asked if she remembered her.

Her eyes searched his features just as silently. Ela could feel her face soften with some long forgotten emotion as he murmured how he couldn’t love anyone after ‘her’. She knew that it was something that didn’t even quite belong to her. She knew it but it did belong to a part of her. . . El sighed quietly, it didn’t make any sense . . . but that didn’t stop her from starting towards him as his voice dropped to chilled tones.

Ela hesitated for a moment standing beside him before she lifted a hand and traced his face. Light, her fingers skimmed the cool skin that she’d seen so many times in her dreams. “You’re in my dreams . . . I remember your face, your form� she murmured her hand moving down his neck still lightly “I remember your presents and the emotion . . .� she murmured her hand pausing where his heart would be. “but I can’t remember your name . . .� she whispered her eyes moving from her still fingers to his, a small frown wrinkling the skin of her forehead.

Time seemed to last forever, slowly the clock had ticked for Cain. He never aged, just remained the same stiff, strict vampire. Once in a while he would see the pale red haired vampire woman. She only could taunt him. His time had come for him to rest and he rested for fifteen of the twenty years that has past him by. How he sat on a sofa, arms stretched out. He seemed mildly sour. The vampires in the new generations sickened him. One vampire crossed his mind, but he wouldn't allow himself to think his name. He couldn't.

He called a name. Rain!� A thing young looking vampire appeared. Her eyes forest green and platinum blonde hair. "Yes Cain?"�

"I have something for you do for me,"He said coolly.
She frowned, but kept silent.
"What would that be?" She asked seriously. He considered and nodded. "I feel you're worthy of this mission, it's quite simple. I want you to search for him."�

She nods, and turned away. "I do not do this for you Cain. I have personal business with Vincent."Rain grinned. "I'll see you later dear brother."She said no more and disappeared heading to the city. Cain laughs. "The girl's a fool."�
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The red head woman sat in her mansion home, thinking about what would befall the future of Cain. She knew he was a bigger fool than his sister was. She waved her hand at a man who left the room. There was little room for pleasantries in this age. Being who she was, other vampires wanted to execute her.
"Farah. Farah."� She ignored it. The voice stopped.
"I must find Vincent." She said and with that Farah got up and walked out. She put on a jean jacket, deciding to where human modern cloths.


(Sorry it took so long.)

Vincent took her hand away from his heart, because he did not want to reveal that there was no heart beat. He was not sure how she would react if she told him he was a vampire. He stood and laid his hands on her shoulders.

“My name's Vincent, what's yours?�

“I have something to tell you -- I don't think it is any coincidence that I found you again. I don't know how this has happened, but I believe you are reincarnated from the soul of my former lover.

A certain person ... my master ... had long ago decided you should be dead. If he finds out that I am with you again, then he will not allow you to live. He will simply execute you and then hunt me down as well. It is better that you stay here where you are safe, but the choice is yours. If you want, you can go back home, but I don't know what will happen then. In addition, now that I've found you I don't want to lose you again...�

“Do you have a place to stay – do you live alone?�

She frowned lightly as he took her hand away from his chest but she felt some of the tension leave her as he told her his name. The frown returned as he continued on about reincarnation, dead lovers, masters, and her. “My names Adelaide . . . most just call me Ela or El . . .� she murmured absently. What is anyone’s real name if reincarnation was real and true? She sighed. That question had the potential to give her a headache.

“Wow,� she murmured, “what’s a girl suppose to say to that?� she asked, her fingers unconsciously moving to touch his side when his hands settled on her shoulders. “He already has once before hasn’t he?� she asked, her eyes not meeting his but instead looking down at his throat. “I wonder how many times we’ve met again, then . . .� she murmured moving forward a step to close the little distance between them. Her head settled onto his chest nestling almost perfectly in the V created by his neck and shoulder. Her arms smoothed around to embrace him and she sighed, her eyes closing as it felt so right.

“I believe you, as unbelievable as your story is . . .� she murmured, “and I live with my twin . . .� Ela said quietly her fingers lightly rubbing his back. “We have a house together . . . and go to college together . . . we do almost everything together . . .� she said drifting off. But she was never in my ‘visions’ El thought with a frown. “I don’t know her as I do you� she finished confused in a way she’d rather not have to figure out.

“I don’t think I want to loose you now either . . . what do you suppose we do?�

(OCC: Sorry to say I'll be away for a couple of weeks, going to central America. See you all in a little. Also you can continue posting.)

“I suppose you should do whatever pleases you,� he said. “However, I think you should stay here, if only for a while. We can rest tomorrow and leave in the evening.�

He sighed as he felt the warmth of her body from her closeness to him. Compared to him, she was on fire, as his body was normally cold. He felt guilty about the situation his meeting her had put her in, but at the same time he wanted her as his own. Vincent knew that now that he’d found his lover he could not let her leave again.

“El, you are as beautiful as you are innocent. There are some things you should know about me. I will tell you those in time…�

His own voice sounded confident and sure, but he secretly knew that it was only a matter of time until his vampiric bloodlust surfaced and he would be forced to drain her nourishing blood. He would probably attack her like an animal, leaving her for dead.

Vincent pushed El slightly away from him, so that he could see her face. He looked into her knowing green eyes and pale face framed by dark hair.

“Do you feel the… love… we once had?� Vincent asked.

His lips met hers in a cool, inviting kiss. He wanted everything their relationship once had, back. He hoped that this young woman was as romantic as the one he’d lost so long ago.