"They call you Gothica because of me, you know that?" the vampire stated as he took a sitting postition next to the teenaged girl. His electric blue hair faded into the blonde of his roots, however, it appeared an almost navy colour as it made contact with the darkness. The only indication of its true blue was the glistening of the moons haunting glow.
"I know..." the girl whispered, keeping her eyes fixed on the sky. It was dusted in twinkling stars, some dancing from one side of the endless black to the other. A small, cold breeze swept passed them as they sat on the roof but of course, the vampire felt none of the cold, just the tickling of air across his pale, porcelain skin.
With soft, icey eyes he looked at her sympathetically. Her friend was of age when she were to be turned but this girl, at a young age of thirteen, she would join the ranks of the eternal, the forever dead if she were to accept it. "Do you want to change, Danielle?" he asked, his voice mixing harmonically with the sounds of the night. He spoke sternly yet compassionately for the young companion of his.
Hugging her knees to her chest to protect herself from the chill, she stared blankly off over the other houses rooftops. "I know you've always dreamed about this day... wished you could be with me and now that I'm here, ready to grant you eternity you fear death?"
Her head snapped to the side quickly, giving him a scornful look. "I don't fear death," she stated harshly, finding his last comment demeaning but still somewhat true. She had thought about this vampire, Marque, one which would take her into the embrace. Make her his, even though he was older than her by atleast a century and looked that of a 17 year old.
"You probably know my life better than anyone..." Danielle turned her gaze to her knees in mournful memory. In her thirteenth year of life, she had experienced feelings that left her wounded and scarred. Feelings that made her stomach churn and twist painfully as though she had eaten a bad tub of sour cream. All this was a cause of a friend of hers whom in which had family problems of his own and resorted to a method of self-mutilation to ease the pain. She too had considered such a thing.
Marque nodded. "I can numb that pain, love. I can make it all go away... drain it with your vitae. You can start over again, forget about this life... forget about these things which kill you inside. You can dissapear, pretend you never existed and make them think you're dead." He was never really known for being serious, but when it came to his childe, she meant everything to him not matter who she became whether it be and emotional, suicidal wreck or a girl of humility and goodness. She was a friend, a companion, a listener, his lover... his fallen angel.
"The night has always beckoned to me..." the girl whispered. "So has death."
Marque narrowed his eyes quizically. "Death... is not the way to escape..." he responded, tucking a piece of her shoulder-length chestnut hair behind her ear with such love and care that it would seemed the strands would snap and chatter in his fingertips if he were to grasp them too hard.
"Change me..." she told him, "Change me; make me what you are; make me what Drake is; make me what Marian is to become. I want it all to go away and if you shall not let me burn in the fires of damnation now, I want to be kissed. Kissed by the gift and curse of eternity. I pronounce myself to you, Marque the vampire... I pronounce my vitae and my soul to your fangs."
He arched his eyebrows in shock. Never had he heard such... profound words fall from Danielle's, soft, chilidish lips--full and lush lips in which he had laid his own gently upon only once before. She had just formally accepted the invitation he had offered, every word carefully anunciated as though she had studied the book of the elders every night since she could read.
Her light brown eyes held no lie in what she wanted. They were glassy and somewhat tear filled from the memories and the scars she must have just reflected on before she told him those unforgetable words.
Marque opened his arms and brought the young girl into a comforting full-of-love hug in which he held her tightly, almost trying to postpone what was to come. "I will make this hurt as little as possible..." he said to Danielle in a voice barely above a whisper, trying to comfort and calm her. Closing his eyes, he parted his lips and revealed perfectly chiselled ivory fangs. He brushed them across her neck gently and gave her frail skin a light kiss.
In love and eternity... he thought before slowly piercing her flesh. Marque heard a small gasp and quiet moan escape her lips as he sunk the razor-like fangs further into her neck. At first, she squirmed in his grasp, obviously feeling a sharp, shocking pain coarse through her body; he only tightened his hold on her more, clasping his strong hands on her shoulder and waist, feeling the fabric of her black, zip-up hoodie between his fingers.
The tangy, metallic substance entered his mouth and travelled down his throat. It filled his veins, giving his skin the colour and warmth of a mortal. Some of the red susctenence trickled down her neck but as soon as he pulled away, he licked it from her skin. Her body only held enough blood to keep her alive until he fed her himself with his own vitae.
Biting his wrist now, the blood dripped down his arm and onto the roof top, making the sound of falling rain. Danielle's eyes remained closed and her breaths were shallow and short. Stroking her cheek tenderly, she finally opened them and looked up at Marque absently. "Drink..." he told her in a hushed tone, placing the bleeding wound to her mouth and feeling her lock onto his wrist.
"Resembles a small infant like that, doesn't she?" A new male voice cut the air and standing on a higher part of the roof was a young man, older than Marque however, with emerald eyes and shaggy, black hair. He was dressed in a similar black clad way and next to him was Marian, a girl of 16 now, with wavy brown locks down to the middle of her back and crimson eyes. Her skin, unlike the man's, was pale, indicating that he had fed off of her and she had been turned.
Marque looked to him then back to Danielle who did look like a child suckling on a bottle of warmed milk, her hands wrapped around his forearm. "Yeah, Drake... She does..."
~The end~
____________________________________________________________________
If you're wondering why I wrote this, it's somewhat based on a re-occuring dream my friend Marian has. It features two vampires, Marque and Drake.
Marque is the not-so-serious, idiot most of the time. His eyes are this haunting blue that are crisp and bright. They seem as if they glow and the dark blue ring around the irises showcase them even more. His hair is natural bombshell blond but he has this odd obsession with blue... Don't ask me, he just does.
Drake (the elder of the two) is the serious, somewhat cold-hearted and the romantic, lustuous one. His eyes are a deep, emerald green resembling the gem itself while they are rimmed in forest green. His hair is raven and is styled either short and spikey, long and silky or the messy shag like skateboarder.
(He was Marque's sire. He was lonely okay... he needed a friend. Can you blame a guy who looks like that?)
Each one of them have been watching the two of us for years, waiting till our coming of age in which they can turn us. However, Marque and I being impatient and all the stuff going on in my life, I get turned prematurely, hense the entry above... Tadah!
Note: This wasn't the dream... more of a fanfic I guess you could say, written by me.
