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TVC - (Supplemental Piece) - Victarias' Awakening

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Trevy the Great

Vampire Progenitor
True Blood
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8,386
#1
For days the Violet Citadel stood a silent pinnacle in midst of cursed mounds of rock and ice. Yet is was almost as yet always was, the great, dark tower standing atop the massive bulk of mount Karnak, it's walls patrolled by skeletal guards. But on the top of this great spire flickered a single light, a light that had not been light for hundreds of years. It was cast by a single, sputtering candle, held by an ornate sconce. And the window was that of Vekarin's own quarters, a place he rarely visited. But he had spent days there, tending to his patient, a still silent form that had laid upon the bed, dreaming fitful dreams of torture and strife in all the time he had stayed there.

Victarias awoke to a scene utterly different than those she had grown accustomed to within the last two and a half thousand years. Gone were the icy bars of iron, the heat from a thousand hellfires and the skulled stones that seemed to speak of her death. What she saw was dark, cool and stark compared to the crowded confines of Hell. Yet it scared her. Upon her body were the first clothes she had worn since the Avatar's torturous lessons in her past. Loose, violet trousers and a short tunic of the same material and colour adorned her, and she hated the foreign feel. Too long she had dwelt naked in the confines of her cell.
A dark figure rose from beside her, glowing with runic spells and incantations of protection, she recognized them, but recoiled, screaming.
"Stay back, abomination!" She yelled, her voice sounding high-pitched and hoarse next to the one that answered her, asking only; "Victarias?"
The figure leaned in closer, a great skull-mask adorning it's head and she drew back still. Great, dark hands reached up to pull the mask away from the wearer's face and she looked away.
"Be not afraid." He said to her, a massive, armoured hand reaching out to draw her gaze to his, but she resisted, pushing his hand away with all her might as tears ran down face.
"No! Stay away. Go away." She sobbed, burying her face in the violet pillows that sat at the head of the bed. The figure's hand left her, and he stepped back slightly. Again he spoke; "Victarias, please." Pleading, the sound of a thousand sorrows in his echoing voice. She sobbed again, crawling away from him, afraid to look upon him.
"I..." She sobbed. "I hate you." Her body collapsed, wracked with tears and her voice broke with their release. She cried the tears that she had no tears left to cry in Morr's prison, twenty-five hundred years of pain and suffering released in a single deluge that fell upon the dusty pillows.
Vekarin stumbled back, as if dealt a mighty blow. His eyes widened and tears fell from them as well, flowing down his hardened face. Yet it was as if he did not realize them, and his face still retained an expression of shock, like that worn by a man about to die. He fell backwards with a mighty crash, tripping over something, but he did not care why or how, or even if he fell, because no paltry pain dealt him by this physical world could compare in the least to that dealt by the three words she spoke to him.
 

Trevy the Great

Vampire Progenitor
True Blood
Joined
Mar 2, 2008
Messages
8,386
#2
RE: TVC - Victarias' Awakening

Victarias awoke again to find Vekarin staring out of the open window into a morning sky clouded by gray. Only a night had passed since their last encounter and Victarias was still afraid to look upon him. In her mind he was strong and honorable, but she feared to see what this new illusion had made him into. She hated to think her memory of him could be tarnished by what the Avatar and Torturers made her see, and she refused to look upon him any longer. Instead, she slipped off the bed and made her way to the door. Before, and even sometimes after her incarceration in Hell, stealth had always been an area in which she had excelled and a skill she needed to use often. She reached the door with little difficulty, finding it unlocked, and she slipped outside. The hinges made the slightest of creaks when she opened it and she froze, looking back to Vekarin. If he had heard her, he made no move. She could not fathom why. Perhaps the Avatar wished her to leave the room and find her pain somewhere else. Whatever the reason was, she was sure it had something to do with a plan of the Avatar's, and she slipped into the hall anyway. As she walked along the halls of the Violet Citadel, she realized her familiarity with the surroundings. The Avatar had brought her here before, so why again? Why is this lonely tower so important? She asked herself, but again, could not find an answer. Through many hallways she walked, coming to ancient doors not opened in a century and long hallways bedecked with runes, and finding no one. It seemed like she and the silent statuesque Vekarin were the only souls within this damned labyrinthine citadel.
She climbed a flight of spiral stairs to yet another level of the tower to find a tall, circular room filled with cannon. Closed doors meant to allow the great guns to fire out ringed the room. And worst of all, this room was not unoccupied.
A dozen skeletons stood, polishing and maintaining the guns, their fleshless hands mechanically cleaning their barrels or stacking ammunition. A single vampire stood in the center wearing plate mail and a tall, winged helm, directing his skeletal minions in their tasks. He noticed Victarias climbing the stone stairwell quickly, exclaimed loudly and pulled a pistol from his belt. The skeletons immediatly stopped what they were doing and advanced on Victarias.
"Who the hell are you?" The vampire asked, stepping forward, "And what are you doing here."
Victarias didn't stop to answer, but leapt down the stairs. The crack of the Vampire's shot zipped over her head and she felt the ball impact the wall where she had been less than a second earlier.
The skeletons chased her for a while, and while they were slow that had the advatage of terrain. Victarias had no idea where she was running, while the skeltons worked to cut her off and she was quickly cornered. The Vampire appeared, his pistol reloaded and aimed at her.
"Any false moves, and this shot won't miss." he told her as the skeletons took her roughly by the arms.
They took the vampiress to Vekarin's chambers where the armored Vampire knocked once on the old, wooden door. Vekarin looked up at the sharp knock that broke his depressed reverie and turned swiftly in his chair. He noticed immediately that Victarias was gone, and stood quickly. He made his way to the door in two long steps and flung it open.
"We found her on the last gun level, my lord." The vampire said. Vekarin looked to him, then to the defiant Victarias, her eyes closed. A small cut above her eye was bleeding freely and the sight of it filled Vekarin with rage. He produced a small knife from his gauntlet and punched the armoured Vampire's face. The vampire fell back, the punch had pulverized his head and sent the dagger through it to puncture out the back. His corpse flew several feet and hit the wall across the hall with a metallic clang, sliding down the wall. Vekarin beckoned the skeletons away and took hold of Victarias himself, guiding her into his chamber.
"What were you thinking?" He asked her, and let go of her arm. She didn't answer, but looked away, out the window.
"Victarias?" Vekarin asked. "Please, answer." He walked around her, looking her in the eyes. But she had closed them once again, and tears flowed from beneath them. Vekarin stood there for what seemed an age, before stepping quietly out of the room. Victarias fell back on to the bed, her head in her hands, and wept.
 

Trevy the Great

Vampire Progenitor
True Blood
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#3
RE: TVC - Victarias' Awakening

A day passed, perhaps more, perhaps less. Victarias cared not, time was irrelevant to her.
For much of it, she lay upon the bed, consumed by her own griefs, fears and doubts. Eventually, she fell seamlessly into deep sleep, not noticing until she awake some hours later. The flickering of small braziers lit the room, briefly interrupted by stark white flashes of lightning from the lonely window. She looked around to see Vekarin had returned to his constant vigil over her, and she looked away as he stood, eyes glowing from behind his dull mask.
"Why?" Was the only word he spoke. She turned away from his massive form, hiding her head in her arms.
"Get away from me." She hissed. He took one of the posters of the bed, leaning forward as if he felt a great weariness. She turned back, seeing his bent head. From behind the great helm he wore she could just make out the locks of his dark hair, and she sobbed in grief. She wanted nothing more than to tear the mask off his head, to kiss him for once. To embrace her husband.
Vekarin's hand flexed, he gripped the wood beneath his hand with all his strength, trying to pour all his strength, his rage, his helplessness into it. It splintered under his grasp, the hardened, aged wood giving way to his enormous strength. In rage he tore away from it, the entire pole pulling away from the bed, sending the violet drapes that hung about it cascading to the floor. He screamed in his grief, falling to his knees before Victarias' prone figure on the bed. She sat up, looking at the two thousand years of grief he now wore as a cloak about his body. His head hung as he wept, massive shoulders shaking as he poured his own grief out. His great hand enclosed his face as tears fell to the dusted ground like a torrential rain. Victarias looked down upon him with sympathy, almost curiosity...and her own anger. On the wall opposite the bed sat a rack full of ancient weaponry, and from it she took a sharp saber. Quietly circling behind the massive form of Vekarin, she decided to end this nightmare now.
Leaping onto his back, Victarias swung the saber around with a practiced precision, clinging onto Vekarin's massive, armoured form as he stood, the thin metal blade of the weapon around to Vekarin's neck.
"I don't care who you are," she hissed in his ear, "The Avatar, one of his torturures, whatever! I don't care, but I can't take this any more!" Vekarin's great, armored hand moved to the weapon at his throat, then to the maille that kept it from his neck. Victarias sobbed once again. She smelt Vekarin's scent, her vampiric senses picking up his unique smell, the ends of his hairs beyond the helm he wore and she knew, this was the hardest thing she had ever done.
"Just let me out of here. Get me out now, or your little illusion dies with you."
Vekarin took the metal rings upon his neck, pulling them down to expose the blade to his neck.
"Then kill me now." Vekarin spoke, his voice rasping and dry, bereft of the depth and power that had inhabited it for so long. "For I would rather die by your hand than live, knowing your heart and mind belong to the tortures of Morr."

Victarias let go of the sword, letting both she and it fall to the floor. Vekarin turned to face her, his eyes glowing questioningly.
"No." Was her only reply, a bare whisper on the wind than blew through the room. "No, no it can't be."
"What cannot?" Vekarin asked kneeling beside her. She turned to look upon him.
"You...you're...you are real. Real and true." She gasped, falling back to lie helplessly on the floor, more tears welling up in her eyes. "And I never saw." She looked up at him.
"Indeed." He whispered in her ear. Victarias leaped up, throwing her arms around Vekarin, still crying. But these were tears of joy, of inexplicable happiness that fell from her eyes, and not those of grief that she had cried for so long before. Vekarin took her, lifting her high almost as if she were a small child playing with a parent and he laughed. Not the dry, sadistic chuckle that he had so long uttered, but a deep, full laugh that shook the room and echoed about the mountains. From his face she took the Mask of Skulls, casting it on the floor to look upon him for the first time in millenia, and they embraced.
 

Trevy the Great

Vampire Progenitor
True Blood
Joined
Mar 2, 2008
Messages
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#4
RE: TVC - Victarias' Awakening

Dusk had just fallen, tainting the air with a crimson light reminiscent of blood. Dark trees loomed about, casting ominous shadows around the blighted land they grew out of. Grass lay upon the ground, but more of a brown carpet of death than the emerald that coated other lands. It swayed in a hot wind that carried the sickly-sweet scent of death with it, parting the tall stalks to reveal a pair of travelers, riding dark steed into this forsaken realm. One, mounted on a large destrier was enormously tall and broad, swathed in a violet cloak that covered his entire body. The other was smaller, dark clothing covering her from the deadly rays of the evening sun. In the distance, their destination was clear; the burnt corpse of a mighty fortress, the dark stains of flames long since dead visible about it's empty windows. Time had eroded much of the once-great structure, plants covered it and buried it in a morass of decaying matter while animals made it's protection home, and bats streamed from the arrow-slits as darkness approached, eager to feast this night. Only a portion of the great walls of this building was visible, a broken relic of the once mighty aegis is bestowed on those who dwelt within. However, the keep of this fortress stood defiant, like a great bastion of rock among the whirling tides of time. It's windows were dark and hollow, it's floors burnt and rotted away, but it's empty shell withstood the elements thrown at it like a great stone amid a raging river.

Victarias looked up at the mighty structure in awe. It's might was still apparent despite it's disrepair, and it's majesticy was more than she recalled.
"It's...different than I remember." She commented, craning her head back as they passed through the broken gateway, it's great doors long since rotten away and it's rusted portcullis lying broken and buried in the grass beneath them.
"It has fallen into disrepair in these last two millennia. After the Scarring of our Rose, it lay burnt and empty, and I am almost surprised to see it still standing to this day. Those who pass through here or still dwell nearby name it 'The Defiant One' and avoid the areain fear of some ancient, malevolent spirit they believe resides within it." Vekarin chuckled, looking still at Victarias, who looked back and smiled.
"And do you believe that?"
"I do," Vekarin answered, to Victarias' surprise, but she hid that emotion and kept looking upon him. "But of a different kind." Vekarin continued softly and looked back to the keep. "But this is not what I brought you here for. Come."
The two passed through the gates and rode past the massive citadel. Beyond was a tangled forest of blighted trees. Many were dead, blackened or spindly, like the thin legs of some massive, malevolent spider. They passed through the forest, following a tiny path that presented itself as if the trees moved aside. For an hour they rode, and the forest seemed to have no end, yet they ended path ended in a clearing of dead trees.
"What is here?" Victarias asked. Vekarin dismounted his horse, tossing the reins to the ground and motioned for Victarias to do the same. She did so, and followed Vekarin as he made his way to the far end of the clearing, he cleared away some of the worst brambles and broken branches, pointing with a gloved hand to the area beyond. Looking questioningly at her husband, Victarias made her way past the wall of dark trees and was immediately surrounded by light, as if the sun shone only here. Bright, emerald grass covered the ground, shining in the light and broken only by small flowers that pushed their way up through the blanket of green. In the center of the grove was a great obelisk mounted upon a barrow of stone. The great stone was covered with clinging mosses, the bright green blanket hiding seemingly every facet of the monument. Victarias approached it looking up to it's height curiously and touching the moss gently before turning to Vekarin, who gazed back at her with tears within his eyes. Victarias looked back, her deft fingers picking out letters under the the moss and clearing them of their green blanket. As she tore the moss from each letter, word and sentence, she began to see it was a record of her own life. Each of her own accomplishments, from her defense of Lahmia to her death, was recorded upon that rock.
"Carve my epitaph upon immortal stone." She whispered, looking in awe at the story that seemed to play out before her as Vekarin walked up beside her. He held up his hand, muttering a single arcane word as something seemed to fall from the top of the obelisk into his hand. It was a stone, a simple smoothed, rounded river pebble any boy would play with, only one side was carved with the shape of a small spiral and the other, of a rose. Vekarin reached down to the monument, clearing the moss away from a small divot in the rock. Inside it the small stone fit perfectly, and the front of the barrow pulled away, tearing the moss off itself. A small door appeared within the stone that made up the monument, revealing s set of marble stairs that led into the darkness of the crypt. Victarias looked to Vekarin.
"Enter, I will follow." He spoke softly. As she neared the end of the stair, braziers about the crypt sprung to life, casting their flickering life about the room within.
Marble pillars held up it's white roof, and banners of violet depicting roses, crossed swords, hammers and terrifying dragons bedecked the walls. In the corners stood racks of weaponry; swords, spears, massive greatswords and razor-sharp falchions. Chests of innumerable wealth lay there also, and upon a pedestal and a pillow of stone sat a crown; a violet circlet, jeweled and gilded. Beneath that, upon a table of stone lay a violet coverlet of velvet, and on it lay...
Victarias took a step back, falling against the steep marble of the stairs.
"It's...me." She whispered. Upon the velvet, untouched by the ravages of time, lay the still form of Victarias. Violet armor covered her body and her hands were clasped at her chest about the hilt of a great sword and a cloak of purple was swathed about her shoulders. At her head and feet were two ancient blades, one broken and bent, the other sharp as the day is was forged. Dark runes covered them and the words 'nox noctis iuguolo hostilis of lamia quod obscurum servo qui wield is*' were etched upon the blades.
Victarias approached the body slowly, looking upon herself. Vekarin rose from behind her, tears still in his eyes.
"It is your own death, Victarias." He spoke. "But you," he stroked Victarias' hair softly, "are the life that burns within you. So, it is both you, and another."

*Night kills the enemies of the vampyre and darkness protects those who wield it.
 
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