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Me and Rouge - A story to be told

Joined
Nov 9, 2014
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This story is the legend of the great vampire and his countess.
The creation, life, and death of one of the greatest vampires known to man. The first. The alpha, the first vampire to ever roam the lands.

The story is timeless, the first vampire, a legend none have dared to explore, the story of Xalir, the first vampire elder. But how does one become a vampire? Several legends and stories are passed from generation to generation, from the old myth of drinking blood of the living, having the ability to change a human into a vampire, to the fear of death and dying, reviving a normal human into a blood thirsty monster, but what truly creates a vampire. To understand why vampires exist, the story must first describe what a vampire is. A truly grisly beast with a thirst for blood, a human who is unable to go into the sun lest they burn like wood in a fireplace. A human with fangs, usually extendable, and the ability to move extremely fast, as well as immortality to aging. All of these things make up a vampire, so, what then created the first. We all know the legends, a vampire bites a mortal, shares their blood, then creates a new vampire, but that begs the same question, where did the vampire virus come from? Some believe bats, others believe some strange disease, but Xalir is here to tell you that real vampires, like him, they are born. And so begins the story of Xalir, a young welsh boy, raised on cabbage and beef. He was human, once.


Like any child, he had dreams. His dream wasn't to become a hero, oh no, it was to become the worst thing he could imagine. A killer, a famous murderer. A serial killer, possibly... A rapist... or an artist, that paints with only crimson paint. The little boy had a rough childhood, from a father that taught him torture was normal, to a mother who taught him that being a whore was acceptable. He learned a lot of things growing up, and none of them good. He learned that if you pushed your thumbs into a rabbits eyes, they would pop out and hang, he also learned that a birds head would pop off if you twisted hard enough. Fucked up? Maybe. To the normal human he was pretty screwed in the head, but not to little Xalir. Xalir was in his own world, of blood and torture, when his father in a drunken rage came into his room. After hearing of the boy's condition, the man sought to end the boys life. He broke a beer bottle at the bottom of the stairs before climbing them to his sons room. "Xalir, come down here, I wish to speak with you boy..." Coo'd his father. A voice talked to him from the shadows. "Kill him... drink from his corpse... then devour his heart... gain a new life..." Whatever it was was gone soon after, Xalir felt... different, changed. But he didn't know how. The boy didn't believe in magic, and he wouldn't come out for his father either. Xalir was smarter than that. He grabbed a belt and hid behind the door. As his father came in the boy slammed the door shut and jumped on the back of the man he had been forced to call his father, wrapping the belt tightly around his neck. He squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed some more until he was laughing, the man was writhing on the floor, thrashing about. That's when he did it, he grabbed the bottle and sliced his father's throat. Unlike a regular child, he was enthralled by the mess he created, enough that he got a taste. That started his obsession with blood.

He didn't stop there, an hour later his mother called him down to dinner and he joined her, eagerly walking in and hugging her. "Love you mommy." he said, wrapping his bloodied hands around his mother's laced up leg. She looked down at him a little too late as he used a piece of the broken glass from the bottle to slice into the vein of her leg, hemorrhaging the artery and sending her screaming form crashing to the ground. Her screams bothered him and he stood up grabbing the pot of water from the stove, and poured it over her face, grinning as he watched the skin bubbling away from the boiling liquid. He even poured it into her mouth, and eyes. All with a smile. "Good night mommy." he said smirking. He was 10 and already his dream was coming true! He saw the blood and couldn't' help but lean over, drinking it down. It fueled him in a way no other could, a way that only he knew. Over the course of the next week he sustained himself on the blood and meat of his family, the blood giving him more and more energy than he could get from food. He stopped going outside and remained inside plotting his next killing. Family by family he moved through the town, for 15 more years until his 25th birthday. This day was a very interesting day, the day everything changed.

On his way to a house he was ambushed and thrown to the ground. He was young, and his strength was unrivaled. He hissed at whatever knocked him over, unable to see it in the dark. The creature was huge, standing on two feet and it made a sickening crunch as it bit into Xalirs leg. He screamed as the bite boiled his skin as if it had just been set on fire. He yanked his leg back and lunged for the creature, ripping into it with a feral bite, ripping open it's neck. The blood from the creature soon flooded his mouth and he was consumed by power greater than he had ever known, so much power from one source. He suddenly felt his body changing, his fangs grew longer, his nails sharpened, and his eyes turned gold unknown to him. He jumped and found himself high up in the tree tops. Over the course of the next couple of days he started to learn his new power, several people came to kill him, none succeeded. he eventually got tired of being the only one in on this little... fun. He started reading papers and learned of a girl that seemed to be just as crazy as he was. By now, everyone and their mother was scared of Xalir, he was 25 and already the worst feared monster known to man. Word traveled fast that he was who he was, so it was even hopping around countries. This didn't bother him as he got on a boat and took a trip to meet this woman that supposedly bathed in blood for her own longevity, what a vain and disgustingly sexy thing to do. He could show her longevity. By this time he didn't know that he was becoming so powerful that nothing could kill him, it wasn't until he snuck into a home and was attacked with a knife to the throat and his chest that he realized he was immortal now. Between what he did and knew, and how he became immortal, he did not know, in fact, he didn't know anything really about what he was or why, but he did know he had to meet this woman. Red hair and beautiful emerald eyes, he had to have her, to eat her, to force her into being his little pet... Then at least he would have another person to play with, right? At least until he broke her like everyone else.

It came time to act when he moved into her home, where she was said to be. No one knew it was in fact her that did what she did, being an upstanding woman in society, who would suspect her of all people? He would. He could smell the blood. He moved fast, faster than any human was able to move. He walked up to her bedroom, climbing velveteen crimson carpet. A smart choice for one who worked so often with blood. He didn't announce his arrival, walking in as she sat in a tub of freshly harvested sanguin desert. "Ah... here is the queen of sanguine herself..." He closed the door and leaned on it.

His eyes met hers, the emerald clashing with deep, icey blue. "So... I meet you at last." He said, stepping out of the shaddows, licking his fangs through a deadly smirk on his lips. "Elizabeth..." He said, the name dripped from his tongue like a sweet toxin. Either tonight she would die, or she would sate the beast that threatened to burst from his body.
 
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Elizabeth, as she was known in this life, her true life, was a vain woman, this much was absolutely certain. Only the finest dresses, the finest satin about her sheets, the finest porcelain for her claw foot bath tubs. Marble, black, for her floors, low, dimly lit chandeliers, often crafted of crystal. To say that she was easily the most lavish female to have every walked this earth may be a bit of an understatement. Perhaps that was what had drawn her husband in originally… Unfortunate that he was away so often, a woman had needs. She had a few more than was safe for the world to know. Most of her lovers were silent… foolish. And those who weren’t would be met with a similar end… although not all blood was fit to touch her alabaster flesh. It must be young, fresh… preferably virgin. The Queen of Sanguine had a… method. She tasted impurities in the blood. And usually said impurities were met with a wrath the likes of which no… dainty, royal female should have. But… violence was the most effective method of control, was it not? Fear? It kept her out of harm’s way, out of suspicion amongst her people. After all, who would truly miss those… peasant virgins? And not all were as true as they so blatantly boasted about. But he would find that what he had hoped he would be met with, would be very different indeed.

His voice echoed throughout the large room, a shift in the air causing the bloody chains hanging from the ceiling to shift. Clearly, she kept her victims suspended as they’d drained. The ‘click’ of the door closing caused the pale woman to open her emerald hues, locking the gemstones onto him. Those eyes of his were reminiscent of something… not quite human. Her head cocked to the side, red curls dipping in her youth elixir while deep, red pained lips curled into a mischievous grin. There was no hesitation, no fear. There was no start, no concern for having been ‘found out’. Clearly, he’d heard the rumors, and clearly he’d know they weren’t rumors. A lap of his fangs only confirmed her previous belief.

”My, my, my… The Shadow Prince…” She purred, lifting a single arm from the liquid to grip the edge of the tub, hoisting herself to her feet. She didn’t seem to be much for modesty either. After all, her body was immaculate, why hide it? ”I’m at a disadvantage… You’ve caught me in a… moment… Hand me my robe… would you darling?” There were just as many rumors about the Devil with crystal hues as there were of the Blood Countess. His, however, held more merit… more proof. He hadn’t been nearly as discreet as she’d been. But, she supposed with power like that, what need did one have to be discreet?
 
He hadn't paid too much attention to the lavish style of the home, as he entered and heard that blood dripping. This woman could fill him, he remembered thinking. He smirked and his hand moved to the robe she was pointing at. His eyes didn't leave her though, her body, perfection, immaculate. He moved towards her, the gown draped over his arm. "Mmm. So you know of me as well then." He said. he was happy to hear that his reputation preceded him. "I am very proud to say that you're the first I've met who hasn't screamed in fear before I gutted them. No fear... no ... hesitation..." The smile spread wide over his lips, revealing his deep-rooted fangs. "Perfection." He said. He handed her the robe, almost sad to see her put clothing on, but he knew it wouldn't last long. This was his first experiment, could he mind control her, could he trick her, could he... turn her? These things were unheard of, merely thoughts, merely what he wanted to do, he had no idea all of them and more was possible to him. The voice that visited him as a child had done something deep rooted in his soul making him one of the most powerful creatures ever to be known to man.
 
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”What God fearing man or woman has not heard of you…? Not that I have ever been much of one to fear a God...” She questioned, stepping onto the plush, red carpet and leaving her warm bath to entertain her new… guest. Once the gown was in her grasp, she loosely placed the expensive, red silk over her shoulders, tying it loosely. Enough to cover from the waist below, but leaving her bloodied sternum very much visible. ”What good would it to me to scream? I dare to think that wouldn’t be very ladylike at all… You have so many different callings. The Boogeyman. The Devil…” An elegant hand lifted, long, neatly trimmed nails barely running along his jawline. ”But you look so much more like a Prince to me…” She cooed, letting her free arm lace over his shoulder. The two had very similar… minds. She could already tell by the catlike curve in his smirk.

”To what do I owe the pleasure, hm…?”
 
The way she spoke of him made him feel godlike. He'd never felt more in charge or worshiped so dearly than in this moment right here. As her hand moved to touch him his reflexes were faster than the tongue of a frog, his hand grabbing hers - quite roughly, as a reflex. She seemed to ignore the grab and said he looked like a Prince to her which only made him beam, his grip on her hand becoming slightly lighter, her free arm moving over his shoulder. He used the hand that he had grabbed to pull her closer, pulling her hand to his mouth, biting the wrist, sinking the fangs as she asked him what she owed the pleasure. He let that fall to her for a moment while he drank the whiskey from her vein. Intoxicating, this woman. Blood from the living tasted so much sweeter. He locked his eyes on hers to see what she thought of his feeding.
 
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He was right to assume that his catlike grab would deter her. The woman was a specimen of luxury and royalty. And all good things came to those who waited. Although something told her that she wouldn’t have to wait for long. She’d watched carefully as her wrist was lifted to his lips, gasping only softly as fangs broke flesh. And then came the sheer… euphoria. Elegant digits twitched ever so slightly in his grasp, but the redhead made no motion to pull away. The pleasure, indeed. There was something so… intimate. So deliciously sensual about the pull from her wrist, and the immaculate body shivered, if only slightly, while her head softly craned backwards.

”My goodness…” She purred, breathlessly. ”Isn’t that just… delightful…” it was more musing aloud than anything else, and her body remained poised against his own as he’d taken his fill.

This woman hardly feared death…
 
The tilt of her head was enough to cause the young man to pull from her wrist and bite from the source. His hand clasped on her wrist, smearing the blood for the wound he had not healed. A new vampire, the only one, so he really was flying blind. He didn't leave the wound open on purpose, it just hadn't known to lick it so it closed up, his grasp however for now would keep her from bleeding out too much. His fangs sunk deeply into her silken flesh, like ivory she reminded him of a porcelain doll, one that was meant to be broken, reshaped and repainted in his image. With a swift movement he had her against the wall of her bathroom door, his hand pinning her bloody wrist to the door, her other arm around his neck, it was his turn to feel euphoria. The absolute tragedy that was such a man, with this woman. He couldn't be stopped. He only pulled away once he had his fill, this time kissing the wounds, causing them to close. "Intriguing..." He said, watching the wounds heal. he looked at her wrist and kissed those wounds as well. "Very intriguing..." Smart, handsome, and absolutely insane. three things that went above and beyond when describing this man. He was absolute perfection in his eyes, as well. Immaculate in every way. Only this woman would mirror him and be as great as he. Only she would have this honor, and if she wouldn't accept it, she would die.
 
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She didn’t mind the sudden shift. In fact, she’d preferred it. Spine arched, a satisfied purr ripping passed full, ruby lips. When her back had, quite swiftly, been met with the immaculate carving of the door, she’d wasted no time in curling her legs around his waist, holding her body tightly against his. The blood in the bathtub nearby was merely an afterthought of this… dance that they were dancing. She was drowsy, groggy and yet intrigued by him. His words reached her ears, and when he’d pulled away from her neck to kiss at her wrist, she’d watched him. He didn’t cross her as a gentle man, not that she found herself complaining.

The fingers of her free hand gently threaded through his golden locks, her body poised against his own. It was difficult for her to tell what blood smeared against her flesh was her own, and what blood belonged to her latest victim, but none of that seemed to be of any consequence. If this was how her new guest preferred to play… what kind of hostess would she be to deny him? After all, he was the Shadow Prince.

”What, my dear…?” She questioned, softly, petting her fingers against his scalp the way one might pet a lover.
 
He continued to look at the wounds. "Oh... so you havn't heard my story then... Mmm." He smirked. "Well... I don't know what I am, or how I have all these .. strange abilties.. All I know is I'm Immortal... as well as the fact that I am able to feed off of blood and blood alone... and ..... I have grown these demonic-fangs in the corners of my mouth. NOt much is known about why I can, or how I came about it..." he said, examining the area where he had bit. "You are my test." With a flash he was in her room with her. Whether he teleported or just moved really fast, he didn't know, another flash and he had her pinned to the bed with her wrists in one hand, his other hand moving down her chest, seperating the gown from her breasts. Partway down her chest he started to dig his claw into her chest and slash downward, revealing the bottom of her heart through her ribs, just slightly. He looked at it beating before leaning down and licking the wound, from where he stopped to where he began, looking at it curiously - "I see..." was all he said, before doing it again deeper and repeating the process, one of the times letting his fingers touch the heart that held her life in tact, just slightly, feeling a jitter. He looked into her eyes to see a reaction before licking the wound shut yet again. "No matter how deep a wound, I can force you to heal it." He wondered if he could rip out her heart and put it back, but he'd try another day. He stopped tormenting her, kissing her shoulders and breasts before moving up to her face. "You will be mine. Or you will die. " he said. "Do you want to walk alongside me - or suffer the same fate as all those who refuse me?" He made sure she was awake, and alive to speak with him.
 
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No one had truly heard the story. She’d listened to him as he’d spoken, well aware that his eyes were studying where he’d bitten into her. And experiment? Well, that didn’t sound very glamorous, but she did suppose she enjoyed a good game. Before she’d been able to respond, they were perched atop a dark, plush comforter, the robe falling open with a single flourish of his wrist. She felt his fingers sinking into her chest, her body tense with pain as it rippled throughout her, great enough to take her breath away. The organ pounded away at his mercy, even as he lapped the wound closed. Her chest was heaving, the stress on her human body great before he’d re-executed his little slash, deeper this time. Enough that vibrant emerald hues rolled as a cry of pain and shock ripped from her trembling chest. Spine left arched as her own blood spilled onto the blanket, washing away that that would keep her young, or so she had assumed. His words about forcing her to heal had been lost on her, as her body struggled to relax and maintain consciousness.

As his breath brushed over her features, tired eyes opened to almost sensual slits. The pain, while great, had been so… exhilarating… more than she had expected. There was curiosity, intrigue in her gaze… but he would find no fear. Wrists twisted, if only slightly in his grasp as elegant legs curled about his hips to pull him closer.

”I have experienced lover after lover… man after man… boys even… soldiers… But how could I possibly deny the rights to my body to the Devil…?” She purred, lifting her head to barely brush her soft tongue over his lips. ”Keep me entertained, and I’ll scream to your hearts content…. Shadow Prince…”
 
"Any others you will bring straight to me. We will end them together." He said. He was starting up his army, even if this woman was just one person, she was going to be his... and his alone. She had a country following her, she could kill them all, it would be so easy. He couldn't help but move up to kiss her. He'd never had a kiss before, so many more intimate things he'd done, rape even as he bled a young girl dry. He'd never in all his years though had he kissed a woman. He didn't quite know how, but he did what he had seen his parents do and pressed his lips to hers. It was an interesting feeling, a different euphoria than he'd had before. His tongue slicked over her lips before entering her mouth. He wasn't the greatest at kissing, but he learned fast, in fact, the third time he moved in for a kiss he had perfected it, his tongue licking over hers, any advance she made towards him was punished by him withdrawing and pinching her nipple between his finger and thumb. A quick reminder he was in charge and she didn't do anything he didn't ask for for now. He licked her tongue and pulled back looking down at her. "Good girl...." he said softly, running his hand over her head, knocking the curls back. "Very good girl...." His accent was deep, causing his girl to sound more like 'gal' his tone was also deep, and husky.

"Do not forget who is in charge here," he said, digging 5 claws into her stomach. "You entertain me."
 
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Sharing her kills was not a thing that she, personally, was used to. But none of this seemed to matter. She’d accepted his kiss, to groggy to notice that perhaps it was not the most practiced. And by the third time he’d crashed against her lips, tongue lashing out against her own, she was practically entranced. She was eager, this much was obvious, but any motion she made was met with a twinge of pain that’d caused the redhead to moan softly against his lips. She’d relaxed by now, resting her head back against the pillow, head barely rolling as he’d pushed her curls back. Accents were prominent no matter where you turned in this day and age, and his hadn’t bothered her. Being the Countess that she was, she’d actually taken time to learn several languages, and there were not many in this world that she’d had any difficulty understanding.

As fingertips sank into her flesh, she’d winced, and yet absentmindedly, she leaned into his palm. ”And are you not… entertained…?” Pain pulsed like a drug from these wounds, spreading throughout her limbs prominently enough to almost make the female lightheaded.
 
"You're lucky..." He said. He removed his fingers one at a time, licking the wounds he left in their place. "I like you." he said, finishing his comment. "Be honored, I don't like anyone." She was interesting to him, a toy, a weapon, he didn't know what she would be to him. He pulled back from her wrists, unpinning her. "I will be back in one weeks time. You are to be dressed in this, with a victim waiting for me. He would hunt with her, weekly, throughout the week she was left to her own for now, he was fast and could get there in a moments notice, his only weakness was starting to become blatently obvious, that woman. She was a distraction, a need, a feral desire. He wanted her - and what he wanted he got. He was used to getting it by force, but willingly would be so much cleaner. He was growing tired of starching his collar every time a useless bloodbag decided to bleed all over his uniform.

Like promised, he was back on the 7th fortnight. "My sanguine beauty..." he said, approaching through her window this time in the bathroom. He awaited to see if she had done as he asked.
 
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She could only chuckle darkly as his tongue pressed over the flat abdomen to heal her wounds. ”Luck has nothing to do with it, my love…” She responded, sleepily. Listening to his requests, nay. His demands, before she allowed herself to fall into a blissful sleep. She would play his games. After all, who was foolish enough to test the King of Darkness? It could be just as beneficial to her as it seemed to be to him. After all, there were advantages to having dark forces standing on your side of the fence, whether they stood above or below you. It made no difference to Elizabeth. His possessiveness would soon surface, and be quite the weapon to her. Until then, it was… refreshing to play with him, his game. To be his little… toy.

In a week’s time, she’d revitalized herself. Cleaned herself of any unsavory lovers and acquired and entirely new and loyal staff. And she was waiting, in the red robe, as he’d made his way through the large, floor to ceiling window. Her hair was slicked back against her head, freshly washed. She looked, satisfied, clean. And she was as revitalized as ever, skin glowing almost ethereally. And settled within the bathtub, submerged in comforting, warm water, was a nameless female. Pure in scent, clearly a virgin. There was… blood on the air. A prick of the finger, to confirm her purity.

”My love… It’s so late…” She’d nearly pouted, turning to face him entirely. ”I thought you wouldn’t show…” The girl herself seemed uninterested in his presence, but Elizabeth soon explained that.

”Fine Hungarian wine… Bless her heart, she couldn’t resist the lap of luxury. A good meal and an aged wine an she was drinking from my palm… I wasn’t sure what entirely you were searching for in a victim…” She looked towards the girl. ”And so I used my own criteria. A wonder, is she not?”
 
He moved in to kiss her as he looked at the girl that was bound - awaiting his touch. He moved back from her and towards the girl. The look on his face solemed as he smirked. "You're going to die here." He said, giving the girl her fate. Only then did she start to struggle and scream, or at least try to. "Hmmm.... nice touch...." He said, moving up to her. Something was jammed into her mouth, a lot of something actually. The girl seemed frantic to spit it out and he laughed when he realized what she had in her mouth. "Tongue got your tongue, it looks like." He said, probably the funniest thing he would ever say, since funny wasn't really his strong suit. He dug his claws into her face. "Scream." He yanked the tongues from her mouth. "Scream."

The girl didn't wait, she did what she was told. The scream seemed to fuel him, the fear just as much as the blood seemed to sate him. He unbound her only to rebind her, binding her arms behind her back. "Crawl." He said, moving away from her. The girl started to crawl on her knees and he kicked her in the face. "I SAID CRAWL!" He yelled at her, his eyes flaring bright red with a blue inner circle. The girl screamed and slunk to the ground and crawled like a snake along the ground, humiliating herself. "Better." He leaned down and grabbed her hair, yanking her up to him. He then leaned forward and bit into her neck, drinking her till she was almost dry. He tossed her asside when she was almost dead, he moved over and straddled her, ripping her clothes off. He started to cut randomly on her, cutting apart the body of the girl - pretty much disecting her to see what was inside. The last breath of hers was a soft muffled gurgle as he ripped out parts of her body, including her heart. "Hm. Definitely not something to rip out ... I suppose..." he said. He looked over at the Dutchess and waved his hand. "Dispose of her. The next one you will drink from." He said, he moved over to her, kissed her and was gone. He would be back yet again, in 7 days.
 
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She’d lowered herself into the discarded bathwater as he’d enjoyed his plaything, resting her head against the back of tub, as if the cries and screeches hadn’t phased her at all. Truly, they hadn’t. This was another day in the life. And the little droplettes of blood left in the hot water would be good for her fair complexion. She glanced towards him as he’d flippantly demanded she dispose of the body. Her, a Countess, sully her hands with the leftover garbage? They would learn from one another. ”My love, we have people who do that for us, hm…?” She leaned into his kiss, savoring the brief flavor on her lips before sinking into her bathwater to enjoy it entirely.

Within another seven days, the same scenario was offered. However, when he’d entered, she’d been sitting at her vanity, dabbing blood away from her skin and placing the top back into what looked to be a very expensive gold pot and Kabuki brush. She moved towards the bathtub, brushing her fingers over the hair of the girl waiting there. ”It’s a shame, really. Drinking does nothing for my complexion…” it was almost a childlike pout. But what she’d truly been waiting on… was him. His gaze. It was predatory, and she’d come to find that in his absence, she’d craved it. Let the chill of their after image drive her to whatever finish she found necessary at the time.

It was endearing, she must admit, how he’d treated them like toys. But Elizabeth already knew how her little playthings ticked… what they were good for.
 
"None of it helps with your complexion." He said coldly. "You're perfect enough, don't believe such foolish things." He walked over to the young female and pulled her up from the tub, she was begging and struggling until he grabbed her by the throat digging his claws in. "You're dead tonight however you go, either easy, or hard. Your choice. I'm merciful, be a good little girl and I'll make it quick for you." He grabbed her binds and broke them, biting into her wrist, offering it to the countess. He was infuriated when she refused to drink - however, she countered it in her own way before he ripped her throat out. She grabbed a goblet, filled it and downed it. He was delighted as she did so, unalbe to refuse the pull of the woman, he pressed his lips against hers in a kiss. He was pleased she drank it and he smiled at her. "Well?" He asked, moving his hand over her chin, waiting for her input on what she just did.
 
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When he’d offered her the marred wrist of the girl, her brows furrowed. ”To place these lips on the flesh of this… thing…?” She questioned, shaking her head. ”No, no, no, my love.” She’d reached to a small drawer in her vanity, lifting a crystalline goblet full of wine. She’d downed the contents before. The small blade she had looked as though it may have been a letter opener, or perhaps it posed as one. But, he was more than eager to do the damage for her. The blood was clean and plentiful, overflowing from the mouth of the goblet and spilling onto alabaster wrists.

”You should suspend her… it would be such a waste…” She murmured, using her fingertips to almost massage the blood into the flesh of her arm before lifting the goblet to her lips. There was no real hesitation, no split second of remorse. It was like drinking warm hot chocolate. In fact, the Countess only assumed that it could be enhanced by chocolate. She’d taken in his kiss, the taste of the virgin girl hanging onto his lips s she’d done so.

”My Darling Prince… Drinking is not new to me… They call me the Blood Countess for many reasons. I’ve been known to… indulge. But…” She’d extended her arm to him, pulling his body gently into her own and leaning against the mouth of the bath tub as she did so. ”It seems to have a different appeal with that excitement in those ethereal eyes of yours… You could almost swallow me whole without lying a single finger on me…” She cooed.
 
He had been engraged at her for not drinking, it was alright she drank from a goblet but it pissed him off none the less. He forgave her shortly after as she moved into possition for his dominance to drip onto her. He growled softly as she moved against the tub. "Is that so...." He said, looking at her. His hand came up to her head, yanking her head over as he curled his hand in her hair. "Don't disobey me then. Do what I say, when I say, and you will have everything you could ever want, all you need do is ask." He said. He leaned down and kissed her neck, looking at the girl. She was frightened and he didn't much care. "I feel nice today, so I'm going to let her handle you, nice to her, not you." He said, she seemed to belive the flesh would make her last longer. Only what he was would.
 
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His rage had only… aroused her. Moreso when he’d yanked her hair and kissed along the side of her throat. ”Let her bleed…” She murmured softly, arched into his attention. ”I’ve been a good Countess? Hm? Don’t I get to be a little high class…?” She questioned, petting her fingers along his arms. ”I would much rather save these lips for you…” She cooed. It wasn’t the flesh that kept her body young, it was the blood. Bathing in it, soaking in it. It… revitalized her. At least, it seemed to. She’d always seemed so vibrant, not a single day older.

”No other lover has enthralled me the way that you do…” Elizabeth purred at him, finishing the contents of the goblet as per his request before casting it aside. She’d wanted desperately to take the lead, to press her lips against his, but she kept her self restraint. ”Maybe it is because you’re the only man on Earth that poses a threat to me… And that makes my… skin burn.”
 
"High class?" He asked, looking at her. She was referring to the fact that she didn't want to touch their flesh with her lips. He could respect that but it did anger him slightly. He growled and stole a kiss from her then looked at the girl, then went back to ignoring the female to look at the countess. He pressed his lips back to her neck. "And why is that...what about me makes you burn...?" He asked, nipping at the flesh as the girl whimpered in the background.
 
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She could still see that twinge of annoyance in his features. But he seemed more intrigued with lavishing attention on her than he was with being annoyed. She’d purred into his little stolen kisses, rolling her head softly as his lips found the soft flesh of her neck. She knew he liked the adoration. So, why not continue to boost his ego? To bathe him in it? ”All of you…” She moaned softly, leaning herself into him until another whine caused her to cut emerald orbs towards the female. Her hand pressed into his chest. ”My darling, will you excuse me for a moment?” She didn’t wait for a response before calling another person into the bathroom, a strong looking male with no tongue who had clearly seen better days.

”Hook her, will you?” She questioned, motioning towards the hooks suspended above her bath tub. ”It’s clear no one taught this girl any manners. And here I thought it was customary that the help didn’t speak unless spoken to…” She leaned over the bathtub as the man began to impale the young girl on sharp, meat hooks. ”She just keeps whining and whimpering and screaming… Very rude, can’t you tell I’m trying to have a moment?” Soon, anguished screams rang from the young girls lips as she’d been suspended.

”Dear, quit squirming you’re wasting it, and be quiet…” Gripping the ‘letter opener’, she’d slit the girl’s arms from wrist bone to elbow. Also going for the tendons in the legs. But when the whimpering and the whining didn’t stop, the Countess found herself angry. ”You’re like a doomed pig. Your enthusiasm for life against the odds is… less than inspiring….” and with a yank of the young girl’s hair, the redhead dragged the blade along her throat, silencing the little whines with gags that would soon cause the female to fall unconscious and merely bleed, draining her guilty pleasure into the porcelain beneath her.

The stronger male in the room pulled chains suspending the body a bit higher over the bathtub while a pink tongue traced the blood along her fingers. ”Pitiful… that drive to live… absolutely…. Pitiful.”
 
He watched on, her admiting that all of him did something to her that made her burn. He wondered what exactly all of that meant, ignoring the fact for the moment, because of the girl. His eyes fell on her form and he watched Elizabeth torture her to death, finally quieting that annoyance. "Very...." he spoke with torpor. He moved over and sat on a bench watching the scene unfold in front of him. What to do, what to do... Did he watch this woman so pitifully extend her disgusting life with a technique that didn't work, or did he go out and hunt and discover all his powers on his own. he wanted to discover them with her, but it seemed that was just not going to happen. "If you're done toying with her... " he demanded, an almost annoyed tone. He killed because he enjoyed it. Her ways were messy for him, unsophisticated, brutish. She was intriguing to say the least though, maybe through time he would come to enjoy the way she tortured the victim. He however had different motives. He killed becaue he could Because their cries of begging for their lives as he took it was lavishing. He wanted to hear them whimper, moan, cry, beg... He wondered maybe if he could recreate what he was.
 
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Her gaze shifted towards him. That annoyance in his features was enough to cause a twinge of her own aggravation to stretch over her own features. She didn’t mind the moans and cries and whimpers. But they were quite… Disruptive. Her methods had rhyme and reason. She didn’t need to ingest this to survive, her motive was to keep her skin youthful, fresh. And she didn’t see herself forcing him into her ways, but she could tell there was something about him, a motive perhaps deeper than their playtime that he was keeping to himself.

”Why not speak your mind, my love?” She questioned, moving towards him and carefully straddling his lap. ”I can see it in those cold eyes of yours…” Maybe they weren’t playing as well together as she’d thought. Which was disappointing, as she could easily find herself losing herself with him, within him. ”You’ll have to forgive me if dissecting them doesn’t appeal to me… Dainty, I suppose, is the word some might use…” She kissed softly at his jawline. ”Talk to me, my Prince…” She cooed, affectionately.
 
He realized she was sitting on him and he was okay with it for the moment, his fang brushing against his own lip as he listened to her. Yes, his eyes were cold, but in her presense they were slightly warming. "Hum." He said, continuing to listen to her. He appreciated how she cooed at him, making him feel all important. "Dainty, hum...?" He asked, not really asking for a reply. "Talk to you..." He paused. "I don't know what I am, who I am... I don't know how to explain how I did these things, and because of that I must test... I must learn my powers... I must figure out how all of this works..." he said. "What am I ? I have no name. Am I human? Do humans consume their own? Am I a demon, I suppose I'm closer to a demon than human now." He said. His purpose, he had none. "I kill to learn." he looked at the body, " To feed...." He said. "To understand...myself." He couldn't help but feel like he didn't have anything else to really live for, a purpose, he needed a purpose. Maybe that was one weakness to him.
 
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