Tryst - Talitha/Bruis

[Talitha]

‘Tryst’
The word echoed in her head for a split second as she dozed. She had never been good at sleeping, there was something about it that worried her, like if she fell into the deep sleep her body yearned for her and mind craved, that she’d be killed. Her sleep had only gotten worse over the last few days, though it felt like an eternity. Her dreams, which were usually few and far between, were now the most vivid things she had in her life, and they came every time her eyes closed without fail. Flickering about in random sequence, various images of her in nice clothes, wearing fine things. She was certainly not sleeping on a dirt floor under a single window.

‘Tryst’

There was that word again, and louder than before. So loud in fact, it startled her from her sleep, and she watched a shadow pass by the small window above her. She looked over to the dim light emitted by a single candle, which had dwindled down over the hours it had been lit, until its present state, where it was warped and barely an inch high, streams of wax down its milky white sides and a hardened pool at its feet. There were five other people sleeping around the room, and several snores filled the otherwise stagnant air. The other two people that usually slept in the cramped room however, looked quite different then they normally did. In fact, they were wearing clothes that often adorned many of the Goth girls that sold ‘magical’ trinkets at the markets. She knew neither were older than she, and they whispered quietly together, unaware of her being awake and clearly excited.

They stuffed their ‘homeless’ clothes into their bags and then set off out the doorway, the door that had once stood sturdy there broken off, its hinges always creaking when a breeze ripped through the cold little room. She saw their shadows go past the window, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that they had such nice things while she didn’t. she quietly stood up and walked over to their bags, pulling clothes out until she found a pair of near new jeans and a top that was more netting than material. Put off by the top, she tossed it over her shoulder and looked through the other bag. A long sleeved top slipped out and she put it and the pants on as fast as she could.

The jeans, too long for her short legs, covered the fact that her boots were old and worn down, and with her face having been cleaned that night, she actually passed for the average girl of Valir. Problem was now, that she didn’t know where the girls had gone. Defeated, she hung her head and closed her eyes, tears of anger stinging at her eyes.
‘Tryst’
Her head snapped up and she caught sight of a figured a few blocks down the street, slip into the shadows of an alleyway without so much as a footstep. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the word that had spilled onto her mind like a tipped glass seeped into her brain until it was too much for her to resist. She ran after the shadow, turning down the alley just in time to see their next turn. For ten minutes she followed, until she knew she was at the very back of the North Quadrant, a place she had almost never visited because she knew it was full of brothels and places that a girl like her could get hurt. Yet here she stood, before a building that had ‘unsavoury’ written all over it. And the person she had been following moved inside. More fishnet and leather clad people followed him, and she felt her feet moving without her consent as she too became a part of the crowd that was building up to try and get inside.

Due to her small size, she was easily able to slip and weave between people until the doors opened up before her, and her heart was met with the heavy thump of base, as music pulsed through the room. The entire place looked packed, and even her small body had trouble moving without hitting anyone. She had never seen so many people in one small place before, it overwhelmed her and she backed up against the nearest wall for at least five minutes before daring to venture back out. Sweating bodies moved around her, and the ambient temperature was at least ten degrees higher than the coolness of outside. She felt someone slide their hands around her narrow waist, and she spun around in shock to come face to face with a much taller, much bigger man than she could possible tell to let her go. He said something, and she made out the word ‘time’ being mouthed. But before anything else could happen, a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder, and she watched as the main recoiled like he had been burnt.

She felt it, that knot in her stomach she had felt that night. She looked over her shoulder, and saw instead of ‘him’ an even taller, muscular man stood before her. He motioned his head towards the back of the room, and clasped his hand around her small upper arm. He tugged, which was nearly enough to pull her clear off her feet, and she stumbled as she tried to catch her step. His strong hand slipped down her arm until it latched her wrist, which enabled him to stride another step forward to clear a path. Why was she going with him? Shouldn’t she be screaming for her life? Why did she feel safe under this man’s grip than the man before? Her mind raced until she realised she was no longer surrounded by sweaty, dancing people.

Her brilliant blue eyes scanned the new room hesitantly, and she looked up at the man who still held her wrist as the first words were spoken that she heard loud and clear.

“Here she is Prince Bruis.”

[Bruis]

Tryst. A fitting name for a club that was the favourite meeting place of Vampyr from all over Valir. They met there to do their dirty deeds, and rarely did a human who wasn’t supposed to be ensconced within its thick walls leave walking. It had made an impression on the city that hardly scraped the surface of the depravity deep amongst the metal music that wailed cat-like from the guarded open doorway, whispers of something much more sinister than full body tattoos and safety pin earrings lurking in the back rooms of the dive itself. The outside was nothing to look at in itself; a building painted a dull, dirty black with four windows facing south, all painted black to match and barred against who only knew what considering the filth that lined up the singly metal door on the left.

A funny word, ‘impression’. Most Vampyr didn’t care what image they projected to the public in general, Brudjan or Aurillian alike, the Brudjans because they were inherently selfish and the Aurillians because they preferred to keep their attention fixated on the latest concerto or novella or gallery opening. First impressions were, therefore, mainly important to those with the time to spare noticing and remembering them; Humans. Bruis, who hated to think of himself as disappointing his potential subjects, found as much time as he could to donate to the ‘charitable’ act of making as many of these ‘impressions’ as he could.

Evidently, he had made quite the impression on the little human wretch Sellica had deprived him of almost a full week ago. He had felt her presence as soon as she had passed the North Marketplace and come back into the open. It was odd, considered the Prince in the seconds that she stood before him wide-eyed, that the way he had impressed his mind on her had made him more susceptible to noticing her whenever she happened to be in the vicinity. He had never come across this peculiarity before, although he supposed that was due to the fact that most of the humans who came across him in a dark alley never lived to see daylight.

The Prince said nothing to indicate that he had heard the announcement, nor indeed noticed her presence at all. His grey eyes focused on her face for a split second during which he contemplated all of the above before they moved on to a cubed display of images on the wall to the far right of his own private chamber. Nine massively expensive television screens in all, each showing a different angle of the Club through which the timid human girl had just been dragged. Quite suddenly the security camera footage was cut off, replaced by a black screen and a glaring number 5. The voices of the club-goers outside corresponded with the number, and they counted down to 1 in conjunction with the screen before a large chorus erupted from the Vampyr members of the revel rousers.

“BLOODBATH!”

The televisions blurred back to their original scenes. In an action then that was eerily reminiscent of a New Year’s Eve party, everyone turned to the person standing next to them it seemed, bending each to another’s neck and unmistakably sinking long, hungry fangs into the soft flesh. More inventive diners took to a wrist or a purposefully exposed breast, even whilst extending an appendage towards another in order to give as well as take. Bruis watched all of this with a cool indifference on his features, half amused, half annoyed at their innocence. If only his own world were so easy to bear.

“Bring her closer,” he said then, for the first time acknowledging her existence in his Throne Room.

[Talitha]

Her eyes had dashed to the T.V’s, and the numbers could be seen reflecting off her wide eyes as the numbers counted down. Her jaw dropped at the sight that met her eyes at that point, and she stared at the ‘bloodbath’ with nothing but complete and utter disbelief as the residents began to feed without bias or care for anything but the blood that flowed from the veins of the nearest person. Her mind reeled over a thousand things, old stories about the dead who fed off of the living, the pictures on the screen sending her mind into an overload. What the fuck where these people? Her eyes darted from screen to screen, watching from every angle with a strange mix of fascination and complete disgust.

When he spoke her head snapped to face him so fast, a curtain of her almost black hair swung across her vision. She wasn’t quite as happy to see him as she had been just a few moments ago, and her feet didn’t move eagerly towards him as she was tugged by that large man closer to him. Her now clean face, her clothes that weren’t worn down to shreds, if it weren’t for those eyes of hers, an ordinary man might not have recognised her at all. But he was obviously no ordinary man, and her wide, dish like eyes met his.

The fear went away.

[Bruis]

The Prince felt her fear dissolve like sugar in hot water, and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Since he had been very, very young Bruis had learned to influence people with his looks alone. As he had grown older and the full weight of Autor’s power had descended to his broad shoulders however, Bruis had discovered he had other ways to manipulate situations and people to his liking. These two facets of his personality, when combined, made the Brudjan virtually impossible to resist and this little fact amused the handsome Vampyr no end.

“You’ve been thinking about me,” he stated, his face a mystery. “Wondering if anything that I showed you was true. Desperately second-guessing what would have happened that night if she hadn’t interrupted us.” There was no note of questioning in his tone. He spoke of these things because he knew them to be true. Just as he had done that night, he flung new images into her mind; Images he had picked out seconds before and twisted before tossing them back to her like a hot potato. He showed her herself, hovering around the abandoned building she shared with several others. He showed her a short snatch of her running away through the markets, her fist closed around something tightly. Lastly he threw out the vision of the bone pendant, carefully contrived to appear in that order.

He wanted her to think she had a higher purpose. It always made them more fun to break.

[Talitha]

She could almost feel him in her mind this time, grasping onto her until nothing else but he had her undivided attention. The images flashed like a movie before her, their clarity staggering. These images were so much clearer than the ones he had shown her the week before, perhaps because they were her own memories from the near past, and not fabricated whispers of a future. The pendant, which still hung around her neck was grasped, and squeezed, as if just to make sure it was still there. The inscription, written in a tiny, cursive script had taken her almost ten minutes to make out, since her ability to read was sketchy at best. But they had stayed with her, and maybe they actually meant something. Maybe she was meant to grab that pendant, to run into Bruis, to have followed that person here tonight.

Was it all part of something she couldn’t control?

“Who… Wh-what are you?” she managed to choke out, her own need to have her burning questions answered more powerful than anything he could project on her at that moment. The moments on the screens she had watched were a children’s bed time story compared to the antics they had now involved themselves in, and it was probably a good thing she didn’t look for she surely would have either thrown up, or run for her life.

“How do you show me these things?” Her voice was a bit clearer now, her chest, which had been tight from tension and fear relaxing around her. She looked up at the man still holding her wrist tight, in case she ran she supposed. There were two other men standing in the room as well, and she looked at them briefly before back to Bruis.

[Bruis]

Bruis smiled into the darkness, allowing the shadows in the air to hover around the hollows in his cheeks and creep into the dark, burning recesses of his hungry eyes. There was a reason, he had been told as a child, for everything and now he was just trying to figure out what possible reason there could be for this thing in front of him. Sellica had bought her a whole week of life and Bruis fervently hoped that she had lived it like she had no other because the road ahead was going to be decidedly rockier for the weeping little wench. By the look of her clothes and her washed face she had taken steps to drag herself up from the position of ‘homeless little urchin’, but looks as Bruis knew only too well could be (and often were) deceiving.

“I am Bruis,” he announced simply, the constant smile a simple reminder that he knew something she didn’t. “From the blank state of your mind at seeing what you just saw,” he indicated with one be-ringed hand towards the plethora of screens on the wall, “You have no idea what just happened.” Pausing slightly, he shuffled forward in the massive metallic throne that had taken a decade to construct, leaning towards her in a conspiratorial manner. “They’re Vampyrs,” he whispered in that poisonous voice. “I am their Prince.”

He sat back in his throne languidly, half expecting her to try and bolt again.

[Talitha]

Her eyes darted to the screens again, then back to Bruis, then to his guard that stood around them. Vampyrs? Those old folk tales were actually true? It made a whole lot of sense, considering what she had seen in the last week. Inhuman speed, strength… hearing things and seeing things that were not her own. And now this, this ‘bloodbath’ that had set a knot of sickness in her stomach at the sights that flashed across the monitors.

She did not however, try to run… as she was quite sure it was too late for that now. She had wanted to know, and now she did.

“You get to live forever?” she asked, her tone filled with curiosity and a whole lot more awe.

[Bruis]

Unable to contain his amusement any longer, Bruis began to laugh. The sound came straight from his vocal chords instead of from within his body, however, and it seemed more mechanical than it would have had it derived from a human emotion rather than a mechanical one. Her naivety, her innocence, the mere idea that a creature could be so trusting moved the Vampyr to the quick, although not in any way that could be deemed ‘wholesome’. He deliberately delayed answering her hundredth question, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of the expensive leather jacket he wore and drawing one out. In a few seconds it was in his mouth and lit, and he smoked in silence for a full minute or more before he decided it was time to proceed.

“If you want to call it that,” he replied a little too bitterly, exhaling smoke that fled instantly towards the high-vaulted ceiling. “Some like to express it in different ways. Some wouldn’t call it living, Talitha. But they’re wrong.” The tone he used when he said her name was soft, intimate. “It’s a whole new world. A world where the strong get stronger and the weak die. I know you’re tired of being weak. The question I have is, are you ready to become strong?”

[Talitha]

The jealousy of others, the hatred towards those who had finer things than she, who lived better lives than she. She had promised herself for years that she would climb above it, above the poverty, above the weakness that it gave her. She had almost gotten to the point of giving in, her weakened body no longer able to take what it had been able to when she was younger. He offered her something she had almost convinced herself that she would never be able to get.

He was offering her something that she could not turn down.

“Yes,” she replied softly, nodding ever so slightly, her eyes taking on an air of determination. Whatever it was, she could do it, she could beat this damned thing that was her life. He had manipulated her so well, she trusted him completely, and she never gave a thought as to why she did. She wanted it, and she wanted it enough to believe anything that was said to her.

[Bruis]

It was hardly anything of a challenge these days, thought the Brudjan leader as her soft agreement reached him through her mind before her lips had even parted to speak that one last, fatal word. She would become his, this much he knew, although in the same manner than all of those in a position of authority around him earned that authority, so would she. Wordlessly he regarded her, his fallen angel, his expression unreadable before he took another drag on the cigarette that loaned him a sense of mystery and danger. His clear eyes hardened like beautiful diamonds, and he leaned forward on his throne once more so that his features came within reach of the light and she could see her new Master more clearly.

It was a simple thing, really, to trick humans into thinking he was the good guy. To falsify the future and make them believe that there really was such a thing for them, brittle creatures that they were. She wanted to believe so badly that things could be different for her. That she could make a difference to her otherwise useless existence. And now she would be given that opportunity. Bruis, his fangs clearly visible beneath the plump lines of his lips, transferred his cigarette to his left hand before holding out his right to the girl.

“Come here, Talitha.”

[Talitha]

She felt the grip on her wrist disappear, and she glanced up at the large Vampyr as he crossed his arms across his broad chest, a look of interest clearly plastered across his face. She looked back to Bruis, his outstretched hand, not unlike the first time they met offered to her. There were no tears now, no panic or fear for her life.

She stepped forward, until she stood before him, her small height barely enough to rise above him even when he sat in his throne. Her eyes transfixed to his, her heart beating slowly and steadily. If anything she was excited, though she hardly had control over what she felt at this stage, despite being fairly unaware of this fact.

[Bruis]

A slow, deliberate revealing of his fangs was the fist step. He needed to show her that it was all true, that he really was a Vampyr just in case there was a shadow of a doubt in the small child’s mind. He had experience in scaring the young ones into submission, and he knew it would all go a lot smoother if they believed that he would rip out their throats if they didn’t do as they were told when they were told to do it. His fierce eyes remained pinned on hers and he took her hand, noticing how cold and small it felt in his own much larger one.

“You’ll start off at the bottom of course,” he told her now that she had no choice. His very tone informed her that she would do as he said or she would die right here and now. “Yumi will take you to the servant’s quarters and see to your needs. Yumi!” The sheer power of his voice which had been soft and soothing a second before saw a door to the left of the television screens open and a beautiful girl with almond-shaped eyes and long black hair bustle through. She had a series of bite marks long her neck like trophies; Bite marks that would undoubtedly match Bruis’ dental structure.

“Food and lodgings,” he instructed briskly. “And clothes. Something fashionable, for fuck’s sake. She’s the new servant.”

Yumi nodded waiting for Talitha to leave Bruis’ side and join her.