'I'll be back at sundown, if that's alright?' Jervis would simply nod, a distant smile flashing over his features, there and gone as quick as it had arrived, ”—Good evening then, Mademoiselle…” he uttered, tipping his hat before he’d take his leave. Turning on his heel, he began the descent when the door clicked shut.
-
Vendetta had come down as before- to find the snows had evolved into a full-on blizzard. Immediately Jervis decided Vendetta would be free to remain here until it passed. She was rather thankful for this, and rather glad she kept essentials on her at all times. Ever the enigmatic Lady, Vendetta insisted on helping Jervis take care of domestic duties- going so far as to organize his spare room of supplies. Virtually all their free time together wound up being spent having all manner of teatime and conversation... More than once, the topics of immortality, un-death and supernatural has come up. Curious to Jervis, Vendetta had been... rather knowledgeable on these subjects. One day, he resolved to find out why.
-
Just over one week later, the snowstorm finally broke. Previous daytime hours had been spent plotting, working, ‘tidying’. If one were to notice, his former emaciated guest gone- like she had never been. However, Jervis would stir that early evening from surprisingly sweet slumber. Dreams, strange yet sweet, of being followed, guarded over by an undead creature... Blood... The rich bitter smell raucous, nothing new to the madman… The difference for him, it simply happened, lost in the darkest corners of his mind.
Jervis would awake to the body of Stephanie ravaged and mangled, propped up at his tea table mockingly. Damn, Tetch had been busy with this one, hadn't he? Rather viciously decimated, the unfortunate soul... Even with the... rather wonderful music, coming from above? It drew him up the stairs. Were the two events related? Jervis didn't believe so. Memories of the first night crashed into his mind, oceans of illusion and dark delight and madness… Vendetta… did Vendetta play an instrument? Or was it mere recording?... Becoming nosy, yet mildly fearful of her noticing his presence, he silently opened the door.
Blood caught his attention- both sight and smell. Hardly a surface wasn't splattered to some extent, there was that much. Propped up beside the door, a man Jervis had never seen- throat ripped oven, body shrivelled; Exsanguination, though he had put up a fight... Sitting in the windowsill, bathed in moonlight- the Lady Vendetta. Coated in what he presumed the man's blood, in just a cut up skin-clinging black satin gown... To his- horror? Heartbreak?- Layered in wounds, enough to be fatal... Yet she remained alive as if the wounds didn't exist. Vendetta played a most unusual black-and-white bloody violin, staring outside.
The melody spoke of conflict and strife, deep bitterness and pain... Quiet, still inquisitive, Jervis looked closer at the woman who resided with for the last week and a half. But had no time to see anything. Presently, she finished the haunting song, and turned her head. Placing down her violin, Vendetta rose slowly, wincing in pain- unaware, seemingly, of Jervis watching her every move. Looking to where she sat, he could see the disturbed snow upon the windowsill, feel winter's biting chill... Only her wounds and tear streaks remained, sanguine traces of unexpressed suffering, characterized by echoing notes and bloody strings. It seemed the Lady had a broken mirror for a soul, each shard revealing something different, hidden beneath endless ice. Truly fascinating...
Looking closer still- for by now Vendetta had begun to idly tidy the space- Jervis could see more than just the cuts... Faint burn scars etched deep 'round her throat, wrists and ankles. Whip scars peered out from beneath tears in the dress, chaotic and twisted precision to them. Claw marks, much fresher, marred her body. Something had hurt her... emotional and physical alike. The effect came off macabre; a broken, horribly abused marionette. Strings cut deep into her forced-fragile form. One that endured far too much, for far too long... Vendetta had been, at some point in her life, horrifically abused. It made sense, but did little to dissuade the unease of deadly immortality.
Sky-blue eyes widened slightly, fresh rivulets of blood from her body dripping now. Everything about this told him she should be deceased. Despite the dripping, the Lady was careful to clean all the blood and chaos- except for the freshest pools at her feet. Kneeling down beside the door and the man, Vendetta's hand gently stroked the deceased man's face. "Curious... Even the ugliest souls hold beautiful bodies in death..."
Knowing she would endure, some part of Jervis wished to be absolutely certain. That thought of Vendetta's death alone drew up concern, he couldn’t help but inquire. Moving further into her room, placing himself before her.
”-Are you alright?” Such a simple question, but so much sentiment behind it, he honestly wanted… needed to know…
Vendetta, caught in her own broken Wonderland, froze. Her head whipped over to the words’ source, startled by his rather sudden- to her- appearance.
"Jervis! I... I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you come in..." There was no hiding what she had done- though she figured the man would not mind too much. Vendetta brushed raven locks aside, afraid to meet whatever sentiment he may have. Thoughts of horror, fury, sadism and desires driven by madness filled her mind.
She finally made herself look at him, crimson meeting sky. Reluctantly, and only twice, she gently shook her head, then looked down at her hands. "...Many things, many beings, refuse to die. Of those that have... There is pain, too much so. Though being attacked earlier didn't help...That's where he came from." A pause to glare, then she spoke on. "Even I can only remain icy for so long. Eventually, ice shatters or melts. Lacquers crack. I am broken... and I am sorry, you had to bear witness to this...
For once, I lay myself vulnerable. In the hopes that someone might finally understand... Is that really so hard to do? So much to ask? To find some trust in this cold and unforgiving world... Sharing some of this darkness, some of these secrets." Realizing she rambled on a tangent, Vendetta firmly closed her mouth. Jervis could see how she reached for her violin. Specifically, the bow. It made sense, in part, what caused some of those gashes...
Pain was nothing new to Jervis. He experienced enough to last others tenfold, and knew how to console, no matter what the rest of his black little heart felt. Beyond the ice, there was a glimmer of love for his fellow man. Though it shone dim, it was there- struggling among the shadows. Worried? She was worried over the situation, he might have laughed… but decided against it, her ego so fragile.
Instead he’d smile gently, and touch her hand. Silently staying more self harm, on her part. Both were drawn to their feet, Jervis busy in silent examination/
”—You needn’t concern yourself with that, believe me… it's been far worse before…” When he himself had gone off on blind tangents, what bothered him now was her state, would she be okay? Did she need an ambulance? Blood? He really wasn’t sure… She was an enigma he didn’t understand… but he had time. When she confessed, sadly what she felt, admitting to being attacked, over what she lost, he watched. Silently listening, the consolement he could offer was little. He reached out, taking her into his arms to keep her from doing more harm.
”—I’m not going to say that I’m sorry, because no matter how many sorries you get, the pain won't heal. I will tell you that one day it will improve… It will take time , to make peace with what you are feeling.” Wise advice, paired with a tale. ”—It’s terrible, and it hurts like someone ripped your heart out of your chest… but I assure you; it will feel better one day. I comprehend how you are feeling; but that story is for another time, another place."
Vendetta looked outside, to where frozen sliver of corrupted argent light shone. She listened, sympathizing well with what he said. When he stopped, she somehow found herself beside him, tender arms wrapped around his slender frame. Jervis drew the vulnerable side of Vendetta to the surface... She buried herself in his shoulder. Silent, sanguine-laced tears that fell from her compelled him to keep her close, to keep the madman at bay. When the words deep inside herself finally surfaced, they resonated in tones barely above a whisper.
"Forgive me... I certainly don't wish to think of what happened earlier, not yet... But I will say, the individual knew an important part of me. And- I can't believe I'm going to share this..." Vendetta swallowed hard- but the words, the emotions, refused to be silenced. "I once had a daughter, raven hair, ice-blue eyes... Emily Rose, the best of myself and my lover. Whom he was is not important, nor how it came to be. She was a bright girl, artistic. He took another woman, which was fine. I did my best, as did he. At the tender age of five... That... thing took her to watch, on the one day I had not another choice... I was called from the hospital. I was needed.
I went- just after the time to say goodbye... Death by ingestion of bleach. We had a long, hard time coping... Eventually, the cruel truth came to light. Justice was served. Though to this day, there are those who fault me for what happened. Still... the endless pain I have seen... Most days, I compose myself quite well. There are times, however, it surges, an ocean... Other times, the emotions forced surface-side, inferno of the soul... Still others it swallows me, sinkholes of sorrow... Yet others I run, the wind and I as one. Eventually I will settle.
As I mentioned, I had been found, pulled into the night, by those intending to kill me. They were not successful, but the wounds still run deep. And this... individual, like myself, he... He knew that tale. Set out to cause me pain. To which end he found success, but at a great cost..."
Giving her head a shake, haziness, blood lust took over- greatly accelerated by the self-draining recently underwent... and the fact Jervis knew her secret, what she was. "Though I must confess... there are... more pressing matters at hand... Namely, what I'm going to do with you." As she spoke, Vendetta pinned Jervis to the wall, fangs barely brushing the delicate skin at his throat. If it were not so terrifying, it would almost be sensual...
You can trust him. Regaining her senses, she pulled away- giving Jervis a chance to truly see her.
Gleaming white fangs, hidden by fingers and shock, held not a malice- but necessity. Irises in her eyes, true blood red. Vampyric talons in place of lacquered creations brushing death-pale skin. If any doubt remained, it was erased: Vendetta was a vampyre. Illusion-making, shape-shifting, essence-stealing child of Death itself. 'Twas no wonder she could hold her own! Everything suddenly explained itself: heir talks, the metallic smell the first night, the illusions... Even his strange dreams. She looked to him, those beautiful eyes registering her horror at being discovered, the fear of being driven away... intermingled with relief, not having to hide anymore.
"Forgive me... Or at least make it quick." Vendetta couldn't even turn away, but released him- dropping to her knees once again before him. She fell still, waiting for what would come- whatever the madman would say, or do. Would he harm her, like so many? Try to end her, like others? Send her away, and think no more?.. Could the Lady still be seen within? Not knowing what was going on in his mind. Paralysis came from fear, so she closed her eyes, silent, fighting the monster inside her mind back.
Chapter IX- Vampyres Are Actually Real