You know, just when I thought “Hey, I’m done! I finished my Noir
three-part story!”. Just when I thought now it’s over, my Noir obsession
had had its final toll, and that I could actually sit down and write my
homework assignments instead of fanfiction. God almighty just had to
plop out from the blue, planting a new story seed through my ears, into
my brain and down my spine. So here I am, some months after finishing
Sing for Me, I’ve found myself sitting down in front of my computer
again, leisurely typing away all my troubles and not to mention my poor,
neglected credits. Final exams are going to be a dark, dark period this
summer. ^_^
For you Noir starved people, I have this multipart AU story to give.
This time, I’ve chosen to feature the forming of the Noir relationship
between Mireille and Kirika, but with our cute, cat-loving and cuddly
genius as a vampire. I was always fascinated by how the relationship of
those two developed all through the show and how it concluded, so I
thought, “hey, let’s give it a try on my own!” But re-writing the whole
show would certainly be boring eh? So I decided to re-do it, and make it
a vampire story instead, for reasons I have forgotten -_-;.
As usual, I have words of warnings.
This is AU, as in Alternative Universe, as in not in the anime world, as
in that things will be a lot different. Take OOC into account but in
final, I’m intending to stand true to the characters.
Those of you who are very *very* picky with your vampires, I am not, and
do not intend to follow either Stoker’s or Rice’s vampire models. I run
my own race in this story, please don’t go “HEY, vampires CAN’T do
that!!!”. Vampires are fictional creatures, like ghosts, like
poltergeists, and like Harry Potter. It’s not like there is a standard
and even if there were, I don’t intend to follow them.
There will be no rainbows, flowers or pink bunnies here. This is Noir,
the eternal darkness of human nature, vampire-styled.
With all that vented out, I hope you enjoy the show, wherever this is
going.
Let the bleeding begin.
-Shigan Lee
***************
/Noir.
A name bestowed by ancient fate,
Sacrifice given in death by wish,
The blood of lambs forever protected,
By tears staining the blackened path./
Prologue - Nightwalker
Another Parisian night.
A few cars passed in the almost empty street before once again
disappearing into the dark, their spotlight beams temporarily revealing
a lone figure beside the road. The figure, appearing female and in her
mid teens, seemed to pay her surroundings no notice as she trampled on
down the old, cracked pavement. She passed a few couples and drunks that
were still out, trying to find their way home in the light fog that
rested over the city of Paris. A dog wailed up some side alley, followed
by the shouts of an arguing couple. The sound of shattering glass could
be heard from behind a rusted steel door, but the dark-haired girl
passing their window paid it no heed. She walked on, one second
illuminated by the weak light given by a nearly broken streetlamp,
swallowed by the night like a shadow that never existed.
She appeared to be in no hurry despite that this particular part of the
city was certainly no place for a lady her age, especially at an ungodly
hour like this one. Neither did she seem to be afraid or even slightly
affected by the ruggedness of her surroundings; she merely walked on,
appearing to ignore the jibes and whistles from a group of rowdy
youngsters hanging at the entrance of a seedy pub. Truly, you could
easily see that she was not from this part of the town. Her clothes were
tidy, clean and looked expensive, not extravagantly so but spoke of far
better wealth than those you would usually find here. A dark coloured
parka covered her thin, almost petite frame, matched to a pair of black
pants together with sturdy, yet graceful low-heeled boots; the whole
attire serving her well in the means of camouflage along her journey
through the night.
Her stride was steady, not stuck up but showed clear and inborn
confidence. She kept her eyes projected downwards at the uneven road
before but her shoulders were straight, stretched to their full width
while carrying her indeed small, but still imposing figure to her body’s
fully erected length. She passed a young hooker dressed in barely
anything; while fumbling with her makeup, the woman eyed the girl who
was clearly out of this street’s usual pack distastefully like a
villager would an outcast. Nothing was said as both women crossed, each
continuing down their own paths in life, fate bringing them together for
one fleeting moment on this chilly night. The hooker, who called herself
Katie tonight, suddenly shuddered, an unpleasant tingle running down her
spine. She turned after the outsider, more by a hunch than really
expecting something. To her surprise, the darkened street was already
empty, even the clattering sound of fast paced steps already fading into
the dark.
Katie shook her head in amusement. She must be going crazy to whip after
some classy stash like that one. Even if she had to admit that the kid
looked cute, she had caught a glimpse of fine Asian features, crowned by
a mop of unruly, yet well groomed dark hair. Too bad the girl had kept
her eyes down, hindering her from seeing the whole face. Innocence in
any form came rare in these parts of town, rare enough for it to be an
attraction anyway. Just too bad that she hadn’t been here for business,
the night was coming short and business hadn’t been too good. Hell, she
was tempted to drag someone for free just to get some warmth. Damn that
Roberto and his fucked up business schemes, no bad about flashy vinyl
but at three a.m.? She really needed a hook and fast, just some cash and
a warm body.
She laughed. Yeah, sure thing, the kid had probably been some precious
little princess from a sheltered family who fought with daddy and ran
away from home. Aw yes, those cute little angry steps of hers, pat, pat,
pat against the stone. Now that had been a good merit, banging papa’s
little lady could indeed add some interesting refreshment in this job.
Sure, drunks, slobs and overhormonal teens paid fresh bills but five
years in the business and you get tired of them. No steam at all.
“Oi lady, you free?”
Did she look occupied? Stupid kid, it was the same shit every night.
Well, she wasn’t really in a position to complain. She had clothes, she
was fed and she even still looked pretty. That’s hooker life for you; in
all aspects she should really be happy. Turning around to face the
leering, drunk looking boy behind her, she sighed. He couldn’t be more
than fifteen years old, the perverted little bastard. Putting up a bored
smile was easy enough and this one didn’t look all too poor.
Maybe this night wasn’t all wasted.
A few blocks down the street from the back-alley where Katie usually
took her customers, things were getting a little out of hand between two
groups of streeters. Two young men, looking to be in their midtwenties,
were going at each order in the middle of the street, hard. Both had
knives in hand, glaring at each other to tease their deaths while
throwing a few well chosen insults. Their respective mobs, under some
conditions even called friends, were rounded up around them like
vultures near a dying body. Yells of scorn and egging on rained down on
the pair. Laughter passed between them, anticipation of violence hung in
the air, so clear that you could almost smell it. Eyes that were emptied
of hope, shimmering in stirred bloodlust, trapped the both men,
hindering them from pulling out even if they had wanted to.
None of them noticed the girl who passed them by. Not even glancing at
them as if she had seen this hundreds, if not thousands of times while
continuing in her nightly stride. Like a shadow she passed, never even
lifting her eyes to give the people around her a slightest glance,
merely coming and fading into the shadows among the world of men.
Ignoring the joys and sorrows around her alike, she seemed to be obvious
to the muck of human behaviour around her.
The shouts of a pained scream from the loser went by her like a whisper
in the wind. The victor raised his blade, letting the crimson liquid of
his fallen opponent drip down his arm, a look of disbelief plastered in
his maddened, unshaven face. It was a face of mad joy, joy to be the one
who lived yet still unable to believe it.
The girl walked on.
... Even if for one brief moment, her demeanour changed. It had only
lasted for a second but still so evident there if one simply looked. She
drew a sharp intake of air, caused by the tremor that rocked through her
body, stiffening her muscles and causing her to softly bite into her
lower lips, sinking her white teeth into the soft flesh. Her pace picked
up, away from the crowd of roughs which now celebrated, or mourned, a
fellow comrade, following blindly the instincts that were given by the
ancient laws of humanity.
Her quickened walking continued for another few minutes until she
finally stopped in the corner of a square. You couldn’t really call it a
square, just a little opening between the rows of run down buildings
around it. Trash littered the ground from a few overturned trashcans,
giving the place a rather sweet smell of decay and rotting food. A stray
cat shot its head up, eyeing the new company with a rather disinterested
look before continuing its meal.
She released the breath she had been holding in a long, exaggerated
sigh, lifting her head towards the clearing sky above the city. Her face
softening into a relaxed expression as the moon came forth, as if upon
her calling, bathing the girl in its pale dreamlike gaze. The motion
made her hair fall back, revealing a pair of soulful maroon orbs stained
in primal red.
It was a good night. Not too cold yet chilly enough to sting her pale,
delicate looking skin. If just this annoying fog could clear away it
would have literally been perfect. The moon was singing in the sky,
inviting and tempting her with its cold light. Yet, she restrained
herself, calming the excited jolt in her midsection with another deep
intake as she closed her eyes.
She could still smell it, a few hundred metres away, the blood that was
spilling on the pavement. The nasty, stinging smell of an unwashed human
body was mixed into the delicious odour together with the owner’s cheap
deodorant. A suffocating stink of male that made her want to retch.
Another scream echoed through the night. Someone had apparently started
a new brawl before the first body had even bled out. She could still
hear it, the heart of the dying, or presumably already dead man on the
ground. It was pondering, the muscle working itself into a frenzy to
deliver the much needed blood to the rest of the body, causing even more
of the precious liquid to spill from the wound, therefore killing its
host even faster in the process. The men around the body moved, swishing
sounds of clumsy movement, bone and flesh clashing into each other to
bring pain and the excited, almost aroused panting from the onlookers,
she could hear them all. It neither disgusted nor amused her, however;
she had seen this before. The traits of humanity, hidden in the creation
which they called civilization where they were expected to behave.
Humans were creatures of so short a lifespan, therefore they strived to
seek their passions to such extremes; driven by their inborn knowledge
that life was not forever. Her mother had told her so when she was still
a newborn, still too baffled by her second birth to digest the elder
woman’s words to their full meaning. How long ago had that been? She
could not remember, ages and eras could pass as one slept, and yet it
was all still so familiar.
And her sleep had been long.
The world around her had changed when she awoke, called back from the
darkness for reasons unknown. That happened, according to the calendar
of men, a little more than ten years ago. Ten years spent on travelling
and relearning a world which had changed beyond recognition. The sleep
had its lasting effects on her. The unnatural rest had, by unknown ways,
crippled much of her memories to a degree that most images and words
that could be recalled were incoherent. But still to her great relief,
some things did last through sleep that went beyond death, and such a
thing was her name.
Yuumura Kirika.
She was named by her originated country, the eastern land today known as
Japan. But whatever memory the place should have left her, she had
clearly slept it away. None of it bothered her however since those who
had known about her existence should all by now be dead, by passing of
age or slain by her own hands. It happened a time so long ago that all
she could recall was a whirlpool of mixed impressions; joy like sorrow,
pain like pleasure, all mixed into one blur together with the sounds of
fading voices, screams and pleads alike.
No, she would not dwell on it. Her forehead tightening at her path of
mind, subconsciously reminding her of the discomfort the subject brought
her. She could not remember why or what had happened. The only certain
thing was that they were all gone. It was a quiet life she had awoken
to, resting in an old stone manor surrounded by grapevines which time
seemingly had forgotten.
She had been all alone. The whole building had stunk of ancient death so
badly that she decided to leave as soon as her legs were able to carry
her, wanting to put the biggest possible distance between herself and
the wretched place. The path between the mountains had taken her to a
demoted village by the frontier, a quiet and laid back town consisting
of nothing more than farmers that lived by what the earth could bear
them.
Driven by the mad thirst of being awake and unable to summon any sense
of self-control in her shaken mind, she had fed. She had savoured their
mortal blood as her own until her senses cleared again, finally
revealing to her logical mind the gruesome deed she had done. Her heart
had bore little regret however. Remorse had come hesitantly at the sight
of their terrified, lifeless faces. But one could not deny the needs of
one’s body; she could only sincerely hope that their souls had reached,
and wandered in paradise.
Strange. Was there still so much of a human left in her? No, not if one
would judge the bloodbath committed at her hands. Fulfilled but a bit
shaken, she had left the land, steering her path wherever her mind
desired. But still, she had found her deed to be repelling, even
gruesomely so when she recalled the faces of the children.
Some may have thought it funny for someone of her kind to be repelled at
death, but Kirika did not favour the power of taking life. She did not
enjoy the view of corpses nor did she like making them. The blood was
after all most tasteful while flowing in a live body, its sweetness at
best while still being warm. It was unfortunate that the host died in
the process but there was simply no other way. She did not enjoy dealing
in death but neither would she ever hesitate when the task was to be
done.
Each kind had their instincts, and she was merely obeying hers.
Giving the shimmering moon above a last glance, she steered her feet
elsewhere, turning onto another street to continue her nightly stroll.
The blood smell was still sharp in her lungs as she tried to shut it
out, calming the primal urge that grew stronger in her for every passing
second. A coaxing feeling of need fluttered in the pit of her stomach as
the familiar burning prickled down her throat, awakening the sleeping
thirst that always seemed so close.
She was tempted. The temptation was always there, the craving for blood
always threatened to take over, turning her into the monster with no
remorse, one who killed and fed for the pleasure instead of need. Such
was a common thing when one was still young, newborns still unaware of
the unwritten laws and yet unable to control the thirst that followed.
Kirika, however, was long since past the age of a sapling; she was sure
that her wandering upon this world had been long, and a far one. Her
human life had apparently been relatively short, however. Her features
were still those of a youngster, a woman child of barely mature age. Her
body had been on the brink of human adulthood upon her birth, giving her
the body and curves that reminded her more of a girl than a woman. The
length of her second life, however, lay faded in her memories, stolen
from her by the depth of her sleep like the cause of the slumber.
Kirika was by all means, a fully grown member of her kind. Both her
senses and powers had long since matured from the benefit of practice
and age. She was a master of her kind, one who few of the chosen
surpassed when it came to knowledge and experience. A few unlucky
selected had gotten a first hand experience of her skills during those
years she journeyed; they were those of her kind who still believed in
true immortality, and unfortunately, none had lived to tell.
Time flew by while she had drifted from one land to another. Her clothes
and attire were soon replaced by more modern ones. She crossed the
continent, travelling with no real destination in mind until she reached
the Far East, finally setting foot on the land that was supposed to be
her birthplace. But nothing there had felt familiar to her. Neither the
people nor the culture brought her any peace of mind. The cities had
been like so many others, cramped, dusty and loud despite being the
culmination of human civilization. Somewhat disappointed and frustrated,
she had continued, crossing the sea towards the new continent.
The world had still been a pretty place despite all the pollution caused
by human hands. Life itself was still a beauty beyond glory like she
remembered. The knowledge had brought her some joy during her journey
through the lands. Humanity was as soiled as ever together with those of
her own kind. Greed, hate and darkness bred everywhere you wandered,
like it always did. Such was the truth of this world, and it was not
like she had the right to judge the corrupted.
Death had been her birth like blood was her call. She was a creature of
sin with no hope for retribution.
No, it was not her place to judge the world. She was a dark stain in
God’s creation. That was and always would be her place among the living
until her parting to the underworld.
She accepted that lot in life, and it wasn’t like she had any other
choices. But despite that, she couldn’t help but sometimes feel an
annoying emptiness around her existence. Over ten years had now passed
since her awakening, but for what purpose? Was she now doomed to wander
this earth until the dreaded sleep claimed her once again?
Shaking her head slightly, she walked on. The street she now tramped on
literally took her back the same way by a few hundred metres. This had
been her repeated nightly ritual since her return to Paris a few months
ago, when her senses inexplicably once again called her back to France.
Neither could she really place the foreboding feeling she got whenever
day faded into night in this city; it had become stronger over the weeks
but now it was barely tolerable. A nagging feeling of lacking that was
driving her to constant distraction. Walking in the streets somehow
helped; therefore, most of her recent nights had consisted of exploring
the darker parts of the city, wandering among the street trash like a
kind of dark therapy.
“You fucking bitch, just do it!” The thick, grumpy voice of a man came
from a side alley to the street. There was a woman’s wail among several
other male voices.
“Forget it, Sean, let’s just do her. Gary, hold the whore down.”
The woman was crying, letting out small whimpers in dread that seemed to
encourage the men even more by the sound of their laughter. The sound of
hard leather against a body could be heard as she screamed in pain.
“Fuck, don’t mess her up ya hear? I’m not into banging blue beaten
hags.” Someone snarled. There was more laughter.
Kirika walked past the alley, not giving a glance to the misdeed that
was about to be done. It was, after all, none of her business. Those
were human behaviours, as disgusting as they came, and she disliked
meddling in human affairs. Another scream came from the alley; the woman
was apparently fighting against the rape, but futilely so, as her
struggle was only met with mocking snickers.
“Let’s give her a little cut and see if she’ll cooperate, shall we?” It
was the same man again, his voice filled with malice and snide.
The words registered in Kirika’s mind, cutting into her reason like a
razor in warning, but too late - the thug had already acted.
A wail of pain and horror echoed between the walls when an edge cut into
flesh, severing skin, veins and bodily tissue in a snappish wet sound.
The woman screamed, and screamed like never before as pain shot through
her body. Her otherwise pretty face twisted into a mask of horror at the
touch of cold metal plunged into her arm. Red, hot liquid ran down her
limbs, soaking her clothes and releasing a coppery smell into the air.
The whore, which she indeed was, whimpered and kicked out, sending
herself tumbling to the pavement while clutching her arm in cramped
movements.
Katie was more or less scared shitless. Her aggressors were closing in.
The man she had kicked was swearing and glaring at her with angry, mean
eyes while pulling out another knife. The dread had since long stripped
her of all rational thinking, she could only watch them get closer in
shocked silence. So she did what any person would do in her situation.
Pulling her knees against her chest with her other arm, she whimpered,
like prey begging for mercy under the predator’s claws.
“You’re so fucking dead, you ugly bitch…” He snarled. The man was the
oldest of them, probably in his early twenties with a spiky short hair
and a face that reminded her of a rat. She didn’t look up, merely
continuing to clutch her bleeding arm while waiting for the blow in
horrified stupor.
How could the hook have gone so horribly wrong? She closed her eyes.
Suddenly, there was a crack. The sound was reminiscent of when you
snapped a fresh, thick stick in half, and echoed between the damp brick
walls. A sick, gurgling moan from a crushed windpipe followed,
accompanied by a clattering when a knife hit the grey pavement. The men
turned around, only to be met with the horrid sight of their previous
comrade. His face was twisted into a grimace of absolute terror while
staring at them behind lifeless, frozen eyes. His neck was hanging
haplessly, connecting his head and body in a sloppy way like a stretched
rubber band. Despite that, however, his corpse still stood erect like a
grotesque statue coming to life, held up by an unseen force from behind.
Clouds of steam that briskly dissipated into the cold night air escaped
his still widely gaping mouth, witnessing his last breaths in life while
the bulging eyes stirred painfully one last time before going blank.
One of the men screamed in terror and threw up at his feet at the
nightmarish picture, but was still unable to take his eyes off the
unearthly sight. The leader with the ratface swore a long curse and
reeled back, almost slamming against the wall where the woman still lay
bleeding, her eyes also fixed on the horror before the trio.
The body fell to the ground in a jointless heap, hitting the pavement
with a soft, fleshy thud to reveal the silhouette of a young woman
standing behind. The shadows seemed to dance around her, covering her
features from their mortal vision while she stepped over the body
carefully. The corpse of their fellow comrade didn’t distract the
remaining two men for long, however, when they sensed the foreboding
feeling of incoming danger.
They stood frozen in their positions, unable to move or flee from the
impossible crushing presence of death that radiated from the girl before
them. She seemed relaxed but her stride showed, even if just a little,
restrained excitement. Her movement was fluid, and possessed an almost
catlike grace while she glided towards the pair of terrified men in
utter calmness, showing no wish whatsoever to haste her obvious deadly
intentions. The leader suddenly jolted, tearing his limbs from the
trance with a desperate cry as he flung out his arm, sending the knife
toward her in a clumsy throw. The girl didn’t even bother to flinch,
however, as she simply brought up her hand and snatched the flying
projectile out of the air while continuing her advance towards the two
men.
Her face was serene and calm, almost childlike if it hadn’t been for the
deadly, almost sad blankness of her eyes.
She blurred before their eyes when her body suddenly exploded into
action, impossible for the human eye to follow. Her movements were like
a feline beast’s that had been unleashed upon its prey in hungry
fervour. The men never had a chance to scream as she was upon them like
lightning, giving them no opportunity to react nor defend themselves.
The younger one of them gave up a shriek and tried to run, but was
thrown back immediately. The knife of his friend was now prodding out
from his left eye socket, rammed in with an edge cutting precision,
achieving an instant kill. The girl leaped over his tumbling, sprawling
body in the same motion, landing in front of the remaining terrified
man.
The last thing the leader saw in his mortified horror was a pair of red
stained eyes, burning with a haunting look of hunger, unfamiliar to the
human world. He swore, and mumbled a prayer, knowing that God would not
heed his call. There was little remorse but an eager glow of excitement
in her young, flawless face when the blow came, so powerful that it
threw his head and body against the wall, crushing him against the grey
cement like a child would crack a nut.
The lifeless, broken body fell to the cold, wet ground with a sickening
fleshy thud. Kirika gave it no second look as her eyes turned to the
woman on the ground. She was staring at her with big, exaggerated eyes
that shone of both horrified disbelief and mixed gratitude. She was
cramped up against the wall, blood still spilling from her wound, but
she seemed not to care less about it as her eyes remained transfixed on
the Asiatic girl before her.
Katie swallowed hard and took a deep intake at the sight. It was the
same girl who had passed her on the street before, the one who sent her
musing just before the little pervert bought her. The same little
pervert who now lay dead on the ground with his rapists for friends. The
girl merely stood there, breathing evenly but literally brimming with
rugged excitement as those bloodstained eyes graced her broken body.
They were maroon, yet crimson glowing orbs in the dark; dangerous,
unearthly and yet ravishingly attractive, like the eyes of a forbidden
lover. No emotions or even the slightest hint of sympathy could be
detected in them; they were like merciless jewels of the night, crowning
the delicate features of a wayward angel.
She was beautiful.
Katie drew a deep, subconscious breath in visual pleasure at the sight
before her. Logic and sense were long since gone from her already
jumbled mind as she merely sat there bleeding, staring up at an ethereal
face.
A hand came up, cupping her chin and she shivered in eagerness and
pleasure, all sense of dread forgotten like the smarting wound on her
arm. The girl leaned closer to her, tracing a pale finger against her
red flushed chin. Her breath came now in deep, leisurely gasps as she
shuddered at the softness of the touch, unconsciously giving in to the
slow seduction of this child succubus.
Eyes even more deeply crimson than the colour of her spilled blood
pinned her down, locking her by unseen, yet physically effective chains.
She could only gasp as her mortal senses were overfilled by the power of
an overpowering presence, basking her senses in a brief glimpse of
something eternal.
The darkhaired girl before her parted her lips, but no speech came.
/You have seen, I cannot let you live./
The thought pressed into her mind, briefly registering while she tried
to grasp its meaning.
/Bear me no hatred./
Kirika forcedly curled her pale lips in a small, sad smile, eyes
softening temporarily at the frozen woman below her.
/Walk rested, mortal woman. I take your blood as mine./
Katie found herself suddenly pulled upwards by petite yet strong hands.
The girl had sneaked her arms around her waist and back, forcing their
bodies together while she dived downwards and buried her head in Katie’s
neck. Katie opened her mouth in a silent cry at the waves of pleasure
that ripped through her at the physical contact. Her vision went blank
as she felt how the girl’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin below
her ear. A small, wet tongue touched against her perfumed skin, coaxing
her to lean her head back, granting the girl better access to her
willingly given flesh. Katie let out a soft moan at the heavenly
ministrations. Hands roamed her back, holding her efficiently in
position while massaging her muscles into a state of utter relaxation.
She threw her head back, her green eyes rolling back in their sockets
when the girl brushed her lips seductively against her collarbone, being
eager to give this dark, childlike goddess all that she had to offer.
Kirika let out a needy whimper between her ragged breathing when the
last of her restraints crumbled to her nature. The accelerated rage from
the killing and the smell of blood was now overwhelming her senses
completely; a small wail escaped her lips as she found the perfect spot
she had been searching for under the red haired woman’s left cheek.
Unable to wait any longer, she sank her fangs through the soft layer of
flesh and skin, finally indulging herself in the taste of mortal
lifeblood in blissful ecstasy. The feeling was one of release as the hot
liquid flowed into her mouth, down her throat and settled into the flow
of her own body. The warmth was heavenly. Letting out a small sound of
delight at her victim’s eagerness, Kirika gasped. Shots of electricity
trembled through her body, urging her to hurry her task before the blood
cooled. She tangled her hand into the woman’s now dishevelled hair,
sucking urgently against the pale skin to drain the greatest possible
amount of the precious red liquid from the now sagging body.
Katie’s blood was boiling in her veins, responding to the smarting
movement against her neck that made her mind go white in pleasure. She
raised her arms and reached around the girl’s head, trying to press the
girl even deeper into her task as her body craved more of the heavenly
bliss. Her arms didn’t obey however, neither was her mind longer
coherent enough to register the reduction of mobility. Everything seemed
to be moving sluggishly now as weak moans escaped her now and then and
the feeling of draining took over. Even the action of breathing became
heavier while her vision began to dim, sinking her senses deeper and
deeper into a familiar darkness reminiscent of sleep.
She parted her now pale, bloodless lips one last time as the light faded
from her eyes. Falling back lifelessly into the chocolate haired girl’s
arms, she came to rest, succumbing to her final sleep with a fulfilled
smile on her peaceful, now bloodless face.
Kirika released the bite with a small growl, the sweet liquid still
dripping from her lips as she carefully licked up the last droplets that
spilled from the wound. She cleaned it thoroughly before releasing the
woman. The blood had been good, not virginal but still young, not yet
entirely fouled by the stink of sin and despair. She stood up, laying
the woman’s arms across her chest in a resting position before licking
her lips clean.
Calming her breathing to a normal state, she savoured the warm feeling
of satisfaction that made her limbs tremble. Her head felt numb in the
dim of the aftershock, her senses still tingling from the previous
pleasures. Power surged in her veins as she felt how the raw strength of
living blood flowed, whirled and merged in her body, adding to her own
strength by tenfold. She felt alive.
Leaving the bloodied alley behind without casting the bodies another
glance, Kirika decided to continue her lengthened walk. The woman was,
after all, only one among many. She had since long lost count of their
numbers, the many humans that became relievers of her thirst, and she
did not have any plans to start. It was simply a necessity of her kind.
Would a human question his ethics in eating a cow?
Of course not, so neither would she question about her own feeding. She
had to admit that the act was enjoyable, addictively so, but Kirika
learned long since to control the urge, or at least restrain it enough
so she could dwell in the world of men without hassle. She gave in now
and then, or her powers would slowly fade as the urge to feed became
stronger. Like today, when the smell of blood became too strong to bear,
sending her to react instinctually. It happened very seldom as she tried
to keep the numbers down to a minimum, yet not even the strongest of her
kind could entirely deny one’s birth-given instincts.
Her blood stirred at the thought. Yes, her body was still craving more
even as she walked. It had been months since she last indulged herself
in the pleasurable act and her body was clearly reminding her of its
needs. She licked her lips, the taste of the woman still lingering on
them, teasing her with the coppery flavour.
Yes, why shouldn’t she? It was a pleasant night and still young.
Her lips twitched. One who looked would have seen a rather pleasant if
not serene expression on her face. Basking her face in the pale
moonrays, she felt completely at ease. The orbital lady above was
calling, summoning her with its haunting hymn. She could feel herself
give in as her mind and senses joined in the lunarsong, which forever
baffled her by its semi-eternal beauty.
Drawing a deep breath of the cold air, she leaped towards the sky. The
lights of the human world below her grew fainter, like a dirtied surface
mirroring the star covered arc above. She left the rooftops behind. None
of the muck could touch her here where she was alone in the emptiness,
the moon and the briskness of the ice cutting wind being her sole
companions. Her lips parted in silence as she mouthed the ancient words
that echoed through space, her ears filling with the luminous hymn of
the lunar orb, empowered by the screeching of the howling wind. Like in
passing ages it had called her ancestors, it was now calling her. It was
calling to its children to play, spurring the kindred of the night to
the blood hunt.
Despite her usual aloofness, Kirika had to let out a shiver in
anticipation, wrapping her thin arms around her frame as she contained
herself completely in the flow of the song, to the degree where she
found herself humming to it. She could feel how her mind dimmed as her
senses sharpened to such an intense degree that her intellect became
blurred. With a final twist of heart she gave in, seeing the futility of
her rather childish stubbornness.
And like a shadow returning to the night, she was gone.
*{-------}*
/Children born in the darkest of nights.
Eternity granted by an ancient fate.
Amidst the streets of Paris, our tale of nightwalkers begins./
****************
Living is learning. And I dare to say that in the recent few months, I
have improved my writing some. I can not however, fully take credits for
this as I have also learned another important lesson in life during the
same time.
To write is to owe.
I owe this story to a few people, I still cannot say when it will be
finished but your encouragements, critics and comments have been helpers
as much as kickers. And it is much due to you, that I will keep writing
on this and certainly do my best.
LeeT911- Comments engraved in gold. $_$
Sprite Speigel – Gaiman is God, yes? ´^_^`
BrokenSword – Simple yet absolutely *brilliant* sentence structures. *_*
Kuroshiro – “Late” does not exist in this one’s vocabulary. -_^
*Thank* you, for your hard work, kind words, well-deserved critics and
hilarious remarks. I’m curious myself of where this will go, and you
guys have been great helpers as the kick off. My gratitude knows no
boundaries.
And of course, all of you read-thirsty bunch on ffonline, who knows just
how much a few words can give. You know I love you all. ;)
TBC
Back to Scattered Shards Index - Back to Noir Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction