Rasophore Alexandr (rasophore) wrote in sons_of_cain, @ 2012-03-26 21:23:00 |
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Current mood: | contemplative |
Current music: | Malcolm Stern & Stairway - "Heart" |
Entry tags: | alexandr, dulcinea bianchi, vampire |
WHO: Alexandr and Dulcinea Bianchi
WHAT: An offer of a commission
WHERE: Little Church of the West, Las Vegas blvd.
WHEN: Afternoon
RATING: G, most likely
STATUS: Incomplete
The sun was slanting in through the clouded windows in pale beams that illuminated the motes of dust dancing, drifting aimlessly in the still air of the chapel. Alexandr knew by this that it was midday, the only point at which the sun could penetrate through the perpetual veil of clouds and into the cool and shadowy interior. The light was weak and watery, not strong enough even to disturb Alexandr whose eyes were accustomed to darkness. The banks of candles were unlit, cold and dead, jutting up from their blackened holders like bare white finger bones, rivulets of brittle hardened wax making strange twisting patterns that gleamed dully in the half-light.
It was into this dim silence that a knock at the door intruded, echoing in the great empty space of the chapel. In the rafters, a bird startled, flapping its wings loudly. Alexandr didn't mind his feathered guests. They made him think somewhat whimsically of the beautiful wings of the angels he used to paint, though these earthly birds were rather more flea-infested. He didn't mind the fleas, either. They had no taste for his blood.
'Come in,' Alexandr sent the invitation, having no need to raise his voice. It flew on a silent thought, making distance - small or great - irrelevant. The door opened. He felt no compulsion to lock it. He did not fear for his safety and he had no possessions worth stealing, and the part of him that was still a man of God felt that it would be wrong to bar the doors of a church to anyone. Even a church that was no longer a church.
Alexandr saw visitors from time to time - those who came for his paintings, those who came for his visions, or those few exceedingly rare ones who came only for the dubious pleasure of his company which, he knew, was not congenial. He did not know how to be. Not these days. This visitor, however, was not what he might have expected. Human, he took in immediately almost without thought, and very young. But they all seemed young to him, now. The boy's appearance was, quite frankly, alarming. His eyes were blackened, his hair stuck out in every direction like an animal's bristles, and his skin was pierced through in multiple places with crude jewellery like some savage tribesman. He might have stepped out of one of Alexandr's paintings of the capering imps of hell. But he was here on an errand, not for himself. That much, Alexandr also divined immediately from the boy's thoughts even before he saw the letter that he held in his hands. Alexandr held out his hand for it, not needing to be told.
By the fineness of the paper, the elegance of the script, and by the lingering scent of perfume that clung to the letter, Alexandr could tell that it had come from a woman, and one who was either a holdout of old-fashioned sentimentality, or else more vain than any woman should be. That, the boy's mind could not tell him. Alexandr turned the letter over in his hands. He would not normally care to read it in front of the messenger, except that the boy was so clearly waiting for his response. Alexandr tore open the envelope with one clawed finger and withdrew the folded letter, and he began to read. It was a wordy affair, written in language as florid as the script itself. Its tone was obviously meant to be flattering which found no favour with Alexandr at all. The woman - Dulcinea Bianchi, she named herself - certainly had a dramatic flair about her, even in writing. An Italian vice, Alexandr thought, but he could not fault her for politeness, and he would not answer it with rudeness.
'Tell your mistress that she is welcome to come,' Alexandr spoke into the boy's mind. After the initial and inevitable surprise, it did not seem to disturb the boy, and that was a welcome change. Many people - even other vampires who claimed their own strange gifts - were perturbed by Alexandr's outward silence, by the touch of his mental "voice", unexpected and intimate, but not so this human.