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:: Emile ::
. . . . Emile trembled alone in the darkness. How many times had he dreamed that scene over and over again? The golden eyes that haunted him even after he woke up. The beautiful expressionless face watching him as if claiming him to be the next target... Shaking his head violently, the young boy hugged his head down, his thin fingers tangled in the silken golden locks. "I won't die..." he whispered almost as expressionlessly as the face he dreamed every single night of his existence. "I won't perish..." Shaking, Emile came to his feet. Every night, he had felt the presence approaching, closer and closer... And tonight, he knew that the danger was well nigh upon him. "I won't be hunted," he declared into the night. I will not admit any other hunter upon my territory...! Swiftly, silently Death stalks the night. He comes in may forms, accident, illness, man, woman, child...beasts, stalkers of the night. That night, two terrible Deaths hunted in Emile's corner of the decadent city. . . . . As he slid from one street to another, the moon reflected brightly on his golden locks, but the boy ignored the light that shone on him like a beacon. He could have worn a pitchblack cloak that covered from head to toe, and he chose not to. In the gleaming moonlight, the emerald eyes took on a bluish sheen, giving them glasslike quality as Emile strode down the street. Many hidden eyes watched him from the deepest shadows of the side alleys, staring at him and cowering in unknown terror, for they sensed with street honed instincts that Death rode out that night, and even the most foolish would not dare act on such a night. So they stared, stared in fascination and terror at the beautiful boy who walked proudly where no man would dare. His dress claimed nobility, the silken scarf and cuffs that showed from beneath a rich dark brown jacket, the threefold cape that fluttered behind him... Nobility meant money, money meant life...no noble would pass by unharmed in such a lonely street, yet Emile passed by safely, under guardianship named Death. The shoes that padded noiselessly on the pavement came to a sudden halt as the blond head tilted upwards. Emile's huge emerald eyes narrowed into thin slits as they caught sight of a black birdlike object fluttering in the air. Ruby red lips curved up in a smile. Once again, the silent steps resumed, this time even more quickly to keep up with the black object seeming to flutter aimlessly. In a few minutes, even the faintest moonlight could find no trace of the golden locks, and Emile was turning into alleys that admitted no light at all. This way smelled terror... This way smelled blood... This way smelled Death...! Even more flying objects fluttered in the air, emitting excited sounds pitched beyond human hearing, telling him that the end was near. And there, as he turned yet another corner, his emerald orbs pierced into the darkness, tracing the precise contours of a naked man held in a gentle loving embrace by a golden eyed beauty. Unwillingly caught by the sight, his eyes couldn't turn away from the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Pale, too pale skin stretched over delicate bone structures, eyes like golden flames staring back with slitted pupils. Even in the pale moonlight, he could tell the color of her lips, the blood red lips with thin crimson stripes streaming from the corners onto one pale shoulder of the barely conscious man. He couldn't look away from the golden catlike eyes that watched him even as he watched her...feed. Staring, he couldn't move a muscle, not even to speak, and he understood, knew why he was afraid. It was happening all over again, the slitted golden eyes binding him to the spot, draining all willpower from him... 'Come, my child...' He heard the voice again, although she hadn't moved a muscle, still feeding carelessly, letting the blood trickle from the veins as if to draw unwitting victims with the sweet scent. Unblinkingly, he slowly took one trembling step, then another, gradually losing all sense of fear as if hypnotized... As Emile shortened the distance between him and the beautiful blood drinker, the drained corpse was flung aside, and only the expressionless pale white mask waited him. Spreading her hands a little, she smiled, and the fangs showed from the ripe red lips dripping blood, making a thin track of pink down the shapely chin. Stopping only a step or two away from the tall thin shape, Emile stared up, his wide eyes never losing contact with the slitted eyes. 'Good child...' The tall form bent slowly bent over, the red lips curling back from abnormally sharp, long fangs... In the next instant, the woman leapt away from him even as his jaws snapped in the empty air where her neck should have been. Golden eyes stared at slittled emerald eyes. "Nobody hunts in my territory without my permission, mademoiselle," he grinned theatrically, his thin childlike voice rich with irony. Not a muscle twitching, she stared expressionlessly at him as if she couldn't care less. "Die, salaude!" he yelled fiercely and slid through the still air currents, his thin small hands hooked into deadly claws. Like an illusion, silver hair floated in the pitchblack air as the thin tall woman swayed aside from Emile's headlong attack, blocking his view for a precious moment - and pain slashed into his back. Moving with the direction of the attack, he managed to keep the damage to a minimum, but he couldn't protect his pride from the immutable fact that he had been harmed for the first time in the last century or so. Lips curling up in a silent snarl, he lightly turned with his next step in order to attack, only to use that step to jump back from grasping white hands. The moment his heels touched the ground, he rebounded to attack - there should have been an opening, however slight - and there wasn't..! A powerful kick in the stomach flung him into an unseen wall, and stunned, he couldn't move from the spot, shoulders heaving for want of air. As he helplessly sat there, sharply pointed pair of boots came into his line of sight, and a sound almost like a sob issued from his throat. The booted feet hesistated, then a white slender hand reached towards him - - in the next instant, unearthly scream exploded in the night. Shoulders shaking in laughter, Emile let an empty small glass bottle fall from his hand and came to his feet. Reaching into his jacket once more, the young boy smiled down at the screaming woman on the ground. "Did it hurt, ma cherie?" he whispered lovingly and with a thin silver chain that he took out, loosely bound her. The moment the silver touched her, she screamed anew in greater agony, desperately twisting to get away, but he did not let her. "I have never seen anyone as beautiful or as powerful as you," he continued to speak in a caressing voice, reaching to lift a face which flesh ran as if melted by intense heat. His smile widened even as he cast his eyes down in mock sorrow. "How it pains me to see such a face as yours so damaged, but it will only be for a short while, ma cherie." "Damn...you...!" stifling her screams at last, she managed to grit out in a voice gone hoarse from screaming, but the young boy only smiled at her. "How ironic that you should use such a word to a being such as I," Emile replied sweetly, his emerald eyes almost black with widened pupils. |
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