Carriage was slowly trotting upon the cobblestone. Tyranny of the sun has ended for the day and black curtain has once again fell upon the land. Decent folk are ready to take their long-deserved rest... but few still remain wide awake. This is tedious. Man canted his head to side as he fixed white gloves once again. Wrinkle... he loathed wrinkles. It reminded him that everything, regardless how peerless it seemed, always had a single flaw that would pierce eyes with it's lack of elegance... and elegance is something he never lacked. A man in his position, with his mindset had to think about such significant details, for his reputation relied on it... both kinds paid attention to it. With a soft hum he once again leaned against cushioned seat of carriage, letting out a soft sigh through the nose as his pale brown eyes peered outside of the window. Moment just after sun sets, when neither night nor dark rules the land. It was a perfect moment to take a good look at the land that surrounds him. Far hills with gentle curves, mountains in the distance and valleys that looked as if they are painted by a master. It was a simple beauty and beauty he admired.
But he loathed this.
Long fingers gently rubbed bridge of his nose. It was unavoidable. People started asking, started questioning his well being and even existence and when such moment arrives it is not uncommon for those of higher step on ladder to 'invade' his estate just to confirm that the title is still held by the Name. Entertaining counts, dukes and myriad of barons and baronesses may seem entertaining for someone of 'blue blood', but in his case it meant having to endure one question after another, one invitation stacked upon another with expectation that followed. A promise he must keep but if he really has to then it is far better to not make one at all. Rumors once again started circulating, whispers reached his ears that he might've passed away due to illness... It wouldn't be first time, for no one can forget black plague. Influenza, pneumonia, tuberculosis, various undiscovered viruses that would throw any man into bed. But he was never sick, never so much as sneezed. Coughing was common, but it was not due to any illness, rather, due to his nose being assaulted by cornucopia of perfumes and powder that ladies used in copious amounts. It irritated his nose. No. That was not it. He simply didn't appear to any social gathering of his peers for almost a year and questions circulated about his 'premature demise'. Now he had to appear and once again disperse doubts that he is alive.
And he hated it.
Carriage finally stopped and but mere moments later carriage doors were opened by driver. He stepped out and stood tall, prompting driver to immediately bow his head. How else does one show respect to master? He stood tall, close to 180 in height with slender figure that was enveloped by a perfectly tailored suit and mahogany-colored long coat embroidered with golden and scarlet threads and lace at the edges. His facial lines were smooth, pleasant. Eyes deep and piercing but oddly calming. There was not a single mark on his pale skin, not a single imperfection. From any angle, he resembled a handsome man in his late twenties. Long black hair was combed an tied with a silk strap, tail positioned in straight line that followed his spine. But no hat. It was a common custom for gentlemen to wear a top hat but he loathed anything placed upon his head that would act as a crown. Sun never bothered him for he eluded sun and its rays. There was no need to wear a hat, even as a fashion statement. It seemed far too inelegant.
"Shall I wait, my lord?" Driver asked, prompting his master to throw gaze toward him.
"Yes." He said in gentle tone "I shan't be long."
He didn't plan to stick around long. A gentleman should only ever be accompanied by his peers when such a moment demands to and not one time more... but these balls, these receptions were being held once per month, twice sometimes. He had to endure it, he had to muster his strength and endure the decadence of the humanity and suffer the hubris that was so thick, one could smell it... and yet he had to oblige their petty little social conventions. He moved toward the entrance of the mansion. Shoes clicked on the cobblestone and already in the distance he could hear chatter and laughter... one needn't be a vampire to notice it, but in his case it was unavoidable. Doors were wide open, people entered, two by two in pairs, gentleman and a lady hand in hand, greeted by steward who then announced their arrival to the crowd inside.
"Your invitation, sir?" Steward asked and but a moment later he was presented with an envelope. Writing was immaculate, undeniable proof that his lord has written and signed it. He cleared throat and turned toward the crowd "Lord Gabriel de Peyrac-"
"That is enough." Vampire said in low tone, his index finger lightly touched steward's temple and man instantly calmed down, obeyed command like a loyal hound. His name is long, far too long to be uttered freely by the likes of him. Steward nodded and Gabriel walked inside.
There it was... the stench. For good three seconds, every sense Gabriel possessed was assaulted mercilessly. Perfumes were strong, nauseating. Powder was plentiful and reeked of lead. Rose, lilies, apples... there are apples, orchid... expensive perfumes, very expensive, used liberally to such an extent that bathing in them would not make any difference than now. He swallowed his saliva hard and opened his pale brown orbs. Once his nose was accustomed enough to the smell, now his eyes needed same treatment. His estate was perpetually dimmed but this was blinding. Chandeliers were large and all lit, candles in abundance... smell of wax and honey. Cheap crystals and glass glittered under the light and further added to his torment... It wasn't sun, this would not even tingle on his skin but it most certainly felt as if Sun could be somewhere in the room. He started noticing... diamonds, opals, sapphires, rubies, pearls, all glittered under the light, adorning fingers, wrists and necks of women around. Magpie's dream. But it was still too bright.
When his senses finally calmed down and allowed him to breathe freely, he started walking toward the crowd. Familiar faces greeted him, called him over for introduction with their friends, their friend's friends and if they had chance, their servants too. Did humans always breed this much? Is sex to them just another game to pass time? He kept conversation to minimum, answering only when asked to and in such laconic fashion that Spartans would envy him. Now that every perfume made its mark, he finally started sensing what he wanted to... blood. Sweet, delicious, warm blood. Some had sweet aroma, others were downright repulsive... but every now and then he would snap his head and look around. There was.... odd sensation, odd smell in the air, oddly alluring and tempting. It was but a moment long sensation before his nostrils once again were overpowered by the scent of blood and wine. Wine. That he could drink. Small quantities, no more than a glass before his stomach starts rejecting it... but a glass is enough.
He picked one from tray. It was one he wanted to... in the sea of sour wines he always knew which one to pick. Vintage, fifty years old from the cellar's forgotten wing. Earl clearly had no knowledge in wines since he allowed it to be placed on tray with glasses that could very well be carrying vinegar. But not this one. This was was sweet, sensuous. Oak barrel, spices were used in abundance but in just the right measure to make the perfect balance. Grapes were good too. His head snapped again... there it is... a scent, blood so alluring... wine in the sea of vinegar. But where is it?
Gabriel excused himself and made way toward the crowd where cacophony of obnoxious laughter was mixed with sound of violins. If nothing, he would find who has this blood most delicious.
But he loathed this.
Long fingers gently rubbed bridge of his nose. It was unavoidable. People started asking, started questioning his well being and even existence and when such moment arrives it is not uncommon for those of higher step on ladder to 'invade' his estate just to confirm that the title is still held by the Name. Entertaining counts, dukes and myriad of barons and baronesses may seem entertaining for someone of 'blue blood', but in his case it meant having to endure one question after another, one invitation stacked upon another with expectation that followed. A promise he must keep but if he really has to then it is far better to not make one at all. Rumors once again started circulating, whispers reached his ears that he might've passed away due to illness... It wouldn't be first time, for no one can forget black plague. Influenza, pneumonia, tuberculosis, various undiscovered viruses that would throw any man into bed. But he was never sick, never so much as sneezed. Coughing was common, but it was not due to any illness, rather, due to his nose being assaulted by cornucopia of perfumes and powder that ladies used in copious amounts. It irritated his nose. No. That was not it. He simply didn't appear to any social gathering of his peers for almost a year and questions circulated about his 'premature demise'. Now he had to appear and once again disperse doubts that he is alive.
And he hated it.
Carriage finally stopped and but mere moments later carriage doors were opened by driver. He stepped out and stood tall, prompting driver to immediately bow his head. How else does one show respect to master? He stood tall, close to 180 in height with slender figure that was enveloped by a perfectly tailored suit and mahogany-colored long coat embroidered with golden and scarlet threads and lace at the edges. His facial lines were smooth, pleasant. Eyes deep and piercing but oddly calming. There was not a single mark on his pale skin, not a single imperfection. From any angle, he resembled a handsome man in his late twenties. Long black hair was combed an tied with a silk strap, tail positioned in straight line that followed his spine. But no hat. It was a common custom for gentlemen to wear a top hat but he loathed anything placed upon his head that would act as a crown. Sun never bothered him for he eluded sun and its rays. There was no need to wear a hat, even as a fashion statement. It seemed far too inelegant.
"Shall I wait, my lord?" Driver asked, prompting his master to throw gaze toward him.
"Yes." He said in gentle tone "I shan't be long."
He didn't plan to stick around long. A gentleman should only ever be accompanied by his peers when such a moment demands to and not one time more... but these balls, these receptions were being held once per month, twice sometimes. He had to endure it, he had to muster his strength and endure the decadence of the humanity and suffer the hubris that was so thick, one could smell it... and yet he had to oblige their petty little social conventions. He moved toward the entrance of the mansion. Shoes clicked on the cobblestone and already in the distance he could hear chatter and laughter... one needn't be a vampire to notice it, but in his case it was unavoidable. Doors were wide open, people entered, two by two in pairs, gentleman and a lady hand in hand, greeted by steward who then announced their arrival to the crowd inside.
"Your invitation, sir?" Steward asked and but a moment later he was presented with an envelope. Writing was immaculate, undeniable proof that his lord has written and signed it. He cleared throat and turned toward the crowd "Lord Gabriel de Peyrac-"
"That is enough." Vampire said in low tone, his index finger lightly touched steward's temple and man instantly calmed down, obeyed command like a loyal hound. His name is long, far too long to be uttered freely by the likes of him. Steward nodded and Gabriel walked inside.
There it was... the stench. For good three seconds, every sense Gabriel possessed was assaulted mercilessly. Perfumes were strong, nauseating. Powder was plentiful and reeked of lead. Rose, lilies, apples... there are apples, orchid... expensive perfumes, very expensive, used liberally to such an extent that bathing in them would not make any difference than now. He swallowed his saliva hard and opened his pale brown orbs. Once his nose was accustomed enough to the smell, now his eyes needed same treatment. His estate was perpetually dimmed but this was blinding. Chandeliers were large and all lit, candles in abundance... smell of wax and honey. Cheap crystals and glass glittered under the light and further added to his torment... It wasn't sun, this would not even tingle on his skin but it most certainly felt as if Sun could be somewhere in the room. He started noticing... diamonds, opals, sapphires, rubies, pearls, all glittered under the light, adorning fingers, wrists and necks of women around. Magpie's dream. But it was still too bright.
When his senses finally calmed down and allowed him to breathe freely, he started walking toward the crowd. Familiar faces greeted him, called him over for introduction with their friends, their friend's friends and if they had chance, their servants too. Did humans always breed this much? Is sex to them just another game to pass time? He kept conversation to minimum, answering only when asked to and in such laconic fashion that Spartans would envy him. Now that every perfume made its mark, he finally started sensing what he wanted to... blood. Sweet, delicious, warm blood. Some had sweet aroma, others were downright repulsive... but every now and then he would snap his head and look around. There was.... odd sensation, odd smell in the air, oddly alluring and tempting. It was but a moment long sensation before his nostrils once again were overpowered by the scent of blood and wine. Wine. That he could drink. Small quantities, no more than a glass before his stomach starts rejecting it... but a glass is enough.
He picked one from tray. It was one he wanted to... in the sea of sour wines he always knew which one to pick. Vintage, fifty years old from the cellar's forgotten wing. Earl clearly had no knowledge in wines since he allowed it to be placed on tray with glasses that could very well be carrying vinegar. But not this one. This was was sweet, sensuous. Oak barrel, spices were used in abundance but in just the right measure to make the perfect balance. Grapes were good too. His head snapped again... there it is... a scent, blood so alluring... wine in the sea of vinegar. But where is it?
Gabriel excused himself and made way toward the crowd where cacophony of obnoxious laughter was mixed with sound of violins. If nothing, he would find who has this blood most delicious.
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