Emmeline Fox | M E D I U M (spiritphotog) wrote in thisdarknight, @ 2016-07-07 11:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !locale: new york, emmeline rothschild |
well i'm not scared to die / i'm a little bit scared of what comes after
Who: Emmeline Rothschild.
What: Em is Embraced by Nathalie in 1870.
Where: Bronze Cosmos Hotel, New York.
When: Shortly after nightfall.
Warnings: None.
Progress: Gdoc, complete.
Her nails scratched against the bedding, barely feeling it despite the rough cloth against her cheek. Eyes remained motionless, fixed on a covered window through which she'd watched a sheaf of light move across the ceiling during the few moments of the day when she'd been awake. It had been seven days since she'd left home, since she'd agreed to meet Nathalie Fischer at the Bronze Cosmos, since the Daeva had forced the Embrace on her. A full week of staring at the same wall of flower-printed paper that circled around the window's white frame.
She'd felt overwhelmed in the moment. Nathalie had bought champagne, promising her a new book deal; her last one had ended in a small 300 print run, nearly going out of circulation before it hit the shelves. The paperwork was signed, and now all Emmeline had to do was write. Success seemed imminent, though she didn't know why she had so much trust in this unknown woman. The two had toasted, and Emmeline believed she'd had too much -- she never imbibed, and what would people say, an unescorted, married woman in a hotel without her husband? Nathalie had calmed her, running the back of her hand over a cheek, leaning in close...
Emmeline's lips pursed, a dry tongue running over the skin. She'd felt this kind of thirst before, but never had it drained her so. The door to the room opened and shut in quick succession, the movement only detailed by a slice of light that cut through the dim glow that came from the curtained windows.
Her lips were soft; Emmeline had never felt this pull in her gut for the female sex before, and she thought briefly of her husband William before her senses were consumed by the woman kneeling over her. Maybe this was the cost for the fame she'd just bought. The true coin wasn't gold, it was flesh, it was... Nathalie was moving down over her jaw, Emmeline's head tilted back as she felt the press of teeth against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat, ecstasy moving through her limb in soft waves...
She felt a dent in the bed, the mattress caving beneath the weight of someone sitting. Emmeline didn't move; she ached, but she refused. Nathalie had explained everything to her once she'd woken. How she was dead now. How she needed to feed. Emmeline had rejected her words; it wasn't the fact that she was dead, it was the idea that she was a creature intended to hunt the living.
Emmeline wasn't afraid to die. She'd been intimate with death since she was a small child. Death had blessed her with the second sight, death had taken her father when she was young. Death courted her at every turn, in the fist of her first husband and in the harsh words of her mother, whose subtle, love-lined threats made her understand who held the leash, at least until she too had been claimed by Emmeline's longtime lover. She clenched her jaw, her eyes closing as Nathalie touched her shoulder.
"Emmeline." Her voice sounded like music. Death was supposed to be sweet, wasn't it? No, she wasn't afraid to die. She was afraid of what came after. She'd seen spirits trapped, lingering on in a plane ensnared between worlds. Spirits clinging to the life they could no longer have, lusting after their loved ones, craving a touch or a kiss that would never be given. And now she was dead?
"Cora, look at me." Emmeline started at the sound of her real name, her eyes opening in shock. The command forced her to turn over, to look Nathalie in the face. She was so kind looking, with soft brown hair and a heart-shaped face. Her smile seemed sad, and Emmeline wanted to do whatever it took to make her smile again. Nathalie reached out a hand and Emmeline took it without thinking; Nathalie smiled, and Emmeline's heart skipped a beat. Nathalie put her other hand to Emmeline's face. "I want to tell you why I picked you."
Emmeline shook her head in confusion, listening raptly. She didn't know if Nathalie was casting the same spell as before, or if this was something different. Her tongue passed over her lips again, followed by teeth that worried open a small tear. She could taste the skin, but there was no blood, no coppery tinge.
Nathalie smoothed back Emmeline's hair. "Because God chose you. He made you see the dead and the damned. You have the sight, and we need you, Cora."
Em's brow knotted, unsure. "I don't understand."
Nathalie petted her again in long, slow strokes. "That's why I'm here. To help you understand. I'm going to take you back with me to New Orleans, and there we'll found a great church. You'll help me, because you've seen it. The world after this one, the place where souls go. You know, and with that, you'll convince others, and you'll help make the unbelievers know what they've done wrong."
Emmeline's heart sank. She didn't know, and wasn't that the problem? She was so uncertain, so lost. How could God have chosen her for this when she was anything but convinced? She started to pull her hand back, but Nathalie tightened her grip. She fixed her with a fanatical stare, one that both frightened and elated Emmeline.
"You'll know, in time, Cora. Give it time. But first you must feed. First we must make you strong, and that will help you." Emmeline met Nathalie's gaze, and the woman's surety woke something in her. Maybe there was something in her that could help others, whether it was to understand this life or the next. Maybe she had been chosen. She nodded, rising to sit on the bed. Nathalie smiled, this time much more warmly, the fervor in her touch and in her words softening.
"Good. Come in," she said, the latter directed to the door. A young man entered, meeting first Nathalie's gaze before looking to Emmeline. The young Kindred could smell the man's blood, especially after so many days of fasting. His heart pumped quickly, speaking to his anxiousness. Her mouth instantly salivated, and the man flinched at whatever look came over her face. Nathalie beckoned the man forward, and he obeyed, despite whatever thoughts were scurrying through his mind. He came forth, and replaced Nathalie on the bed. Emmeline put her hands on the man's shoulders, her mouth going directly for his neck without any hesitancy.
"Drink, Cora," Nathalie said. "Drink of His blood, and take unto yourself a new covenant."
The dead fed upon the living for many things, that much Emmeline had learned well over her short years. And if God bid her to believe and to drink, then she would.