Emmeline Fox | M E D I U M (spiritphotog) wrote in thisdarknight, @ 2016-07-13 10:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | !locale: new york, emmeline rothschild, william rothschild |
your tears taste like vinegar and blood
Who: William & Em Rothschild.
What: Emmeline returns home after her embrace and accidentally turns her husband; a few days following this narrative.
Where: The Rothschild's brownstone in New York.
When: ~150 years ago.
Warnings: None.
Progress: Gdoc, complete.
Emmeline stood at the foot of the brownstone, staring up; her arms were wrapped around her middle, and she was shivering. She wasn't cold, though, despite the fact that it was the end of November in New York, and ten at night. A lamp was on in the bedroom window; that was the only way she knew William was home.
Slowly, she took each step leading up to their front door one by one. She had a key, and let herself in; her movements and the sounds she made were so small, it was almost as though she were a ghost moving through walls. Emmeline left the door open a crack behind her, walking further into the house. No matter how far she got, she still felt cold. Her hair was unkempt, oily; her skin was a painful pale color, almost bloodless. Her eyes looked larger in her skull than they did before, and altogether she looked lost. Her stomach gnawed at her, but she had been refusing the one thing she needed.
After Nathalie had turned her -- the woman had called it an embrace, but Emmeline felt too ashamed to name it that; it had been personal, true, but she was married -- she had moved Emmeline to another hotel in the event that she had told others about where she'd been going. She had warned Emmeline that she would have to leave her old life behind, that she was setting a new course for something greater. And Emmeline believed her. She tried to adjust, tried to accept what it was that she'd become. But the nagging thought of William in the back of her mind refused to let go. She had considered asking Nathalie if they might bring her husband along as well -- what harm would it do? But she had not been able to bring herself to ask.
And now here she was, a week later. Nathalie had gone out to make preparations for their journey to Louisiana, and Emmeline had jumped at the opportunity to go out, to go home. The further she moved into the house, the less welcome she felt. Pictures on the walls depicted a happy, living couple; blankets, furniture, knick knacks described a life she was no longer a part of. Emmeline moved into the kitchen, letting one hand run along a counter, and accidentally brushed a plate to the floor. It shattered loudly, and she quickly bent to brush up the pieces.
But it had caught William’s attention, making him shoot to his feet in their bedroom with his eyes wide. He began to move forward far too quickly and paused at the doorway to grip the frame before reaching for the cane he had almost forgotten, and the lit lantern. He took the stairs as quickly as he could. Two steps and a soft clunk from the cane touching the wood, but he made it into the entrance hall and toward the kitchen. Raising his arm, he shone the light of the lantern as he slowly moved forward. “Who’s there?” He asked, his voice stern despite the nerves he felt. “Emmeline?”
It had been a week and he was exhausted. He had thought he saw Emmeline earlier and many other times before that. Sleep had come randomly but never at once, and when it did, he dreamt of her. For a week he had searched for her, for a week he had worked with the police, for a week they had no idea what had become of his wife. He stepped to the doorway of the kitchen area and paused, blinking as he looked at his wife and suddenly uncertain if she was simply a figment of his imagination.
Emmeline looked up, blinking into the light that shone down on her. She looked relieved and terrified all in the same moment.
"William?" She rose to her feet slowly, looking all the more feral for the movement. After a beat, she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his middle as her face buried itself in his chest. She sobbed, the release much longed for finally breaking against the weight that came with him finding her. "Oh, Will, I'm so sorry, I didn't know what she would do, I didn't know!"
He blinked, waking from his stupor and realized Emmeline was there and whole and in his arms. “Oh my god, Emmeline,” he said, his voice filled with relief. His cane clattered to the wooden floor as his arm encircled her small body. He held her tightly against him as he leaned forward to sit the lantern on a nearby table. “Emmeline I was so worried, what happened to you? Who are you talking about?” He squeezed her body against his and buried his face in her hair. It had lost its scent of her perfume and she seemed dirty and thinner than before and cold, so cold. “Love, come, let's go to the sitting room. There’s a blanket there and I can start a fire. You’re freezing.”
She let him lead her into the next room over, but refused to let go of him; tears stained her mussed clothing and his shirt front an odd, red-tinged color.
"I didn't mean to be gone for so long, I'm so sorry, Will, I'm so sorry. I was just there, and she gave me something to drink, and then...then...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, if I had known I would have stopped her," she muttered on, clinging to him as though letting go would mean the end of the world.
He paused before one of the chairs and began to work her grip off of him until she was lowered into the seat. Stepping back, he realized he had left his cane on the floor in the hall but by Emmeline’s behavior, he doubted she would let him out of the room. Instead, he lowered himself slowly to the floor and began to work at the fireplace as quickly as possible. “Emmeline, you haven’t anything to be sorry about if someone did something to you,” he said, pushing logs of wood into the fireplace and noticing his hands were shaking. “I was…” He was frightened and had been worried but by her tears, but he felt telling as much would only upset her more.
“I’ve missed you,” he said instead. Looking down and widening his eyes at the stains on his once white shirt. He looked quickly at her and his brows rose. “My god, Emmeline, what’s wrong? Your face, it’s covered in blood.” He moved to crawl toward her but lost his balance, his hip tipping to the side and hitting the floor. He cringed, feeling the jolt of paint from the old injury, but pushed himself toward her.
Emmeline sank to the floor next to him, her hands reaching out. She didn't care about the fire; he was warm enough. He was so warm. "Hold me, Will, please, I need you. I'm so sorry, please don't leave me." She grabbed onto his wrists and somehow pulled him toward her with an incredible strength belied by her small form. Her arms wrapped around him in an iron grip, holding him tight. "She did something to me, Will, I can't explain it, I don't know what it is, but she did something, and now...now..."
“Shh, shh.” William, confused as ever, took his wife into his arms. She curled up against him on his lap and he pressed her face to his chest before beginning to stroke her dirty hair. “Emmeline you have to breathe. Try and calm yourself. Explain what happened, please? You’re safe now, you’re home. I’ll go to Patrick once you’re calm and tell him you’ve come back home. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who were looking for you. But you’re home now, you’re safe. But please breathe, you’re all right now.”
Her fists balled into his shirt as she breathed deeply, inhaling his scent.
"God, you smell so good. I'm so hungry, Will. I haven't eaten for days, she wanted me to drink blood. She said it was an embrace, that she wanted me to help her bring souls to God, but I'm so scared, Will. All I could think about was you, that I didn't want to leave you. I'm not, I promise, Will, I'm so sorry!" She pulled her head away from his chest, looking into his face. She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks, tears still spilling from her eyes. "I won't leave you, Will, I didn't want to leave you behind. God, you smell delicious."
William tipped his head, leaning his cheek into her hand. She was hysterical and William only experienced a hysterical woman or two in the courtroom. Here, in the privacy of their home, he didn’t know how to deal with his wife being reduced to this. “I’ll get you food, alright? I haven’t eaten much in the past week either. Once we both eat, we’ll be able to figure this out.” He leaned forward, arching his neck so that he could kiss the top of her head with a quick peck. “But tell me, who is this she and what embrace? What did she do to you? She kidnapped you, love, and the law is on our side. We’ll find her and bring this all to justice.”
"No, don't leave me." Emmeline wrapped her arms around Will's neck, holding him to the floor. She pressed her face into his throat, a soft moan escaping her mouth as her lips worked at his skin. "God, why do you smell so good?" Her teeth tried his skin, nipping lightly, before pressing down harder.
“Emmeline,” William hissed, sucking in a gasp of air. “What are you doing?” He moved to get out of her reach, to grab her shoulders and push her away, but he found her grip to be stronger than he expected. “Emmeline, stop this.”
She clung to him, her grip vice-like. Her teeth shredded skin, sinking down almost into muscle as she sought the red liquid beneath. It rose up in a rush into her mouth, this sweet sustenance, coating her tongue and spilling down into her throat. If she at all recognized that she was sucking the life out of her husband, Emmeline did not seem to acknowledge it, at least, not at first. Instead her hips twisted, fitting her legs to straddle over his, pressing her whole form to his without shame as her hands moved over his back.
William’s eyes rolled, his jaw clenched as he was hit by the first wave of pain from his neck being torn asunder. “Emmeline,” he croaked, his hands still worked at trying to get her off of him but he seemed completely useless. She didn’t budge and all the while she was destroying his neck. William had never really believed in the religious details of Emmeline’s beliefs. He couldn’t bring himself to. But her behavior and now this made him wonder if there was such a thing as the devil and he had unknowingly welcomed the devil into his arms. “Stop…” William said weakly, pleading on deaf ears.
Her tongue laved the wound, pulling out a fresh draught as she continued to drink him dry. At the same time, her hips rolled against his, her hands grasping at the muscles of his back as endorphins flooded his system in some twisted gesture of thanks for the meal his body was offering.
William let out a long sigh and the fight seemed to leave his body. He grew hard and instead of trying to push Emmeline off, his arms slid around her torso and pulled her closer, pressed her against him. He thought, feverishly, that this was a good welcome home and if only they didn’t have their clothes on…
He moaned and settled into Emmeline’s arms. He wanted to lay down, but she was keeping him sitting up as she worked at his neck. He closed his eyes and sighed once more. Her tiny fangs ripped at his skin, turning him pale, stealing his very life. She moaned against his flesh, feeling closer to him than at any other point in the past; slowly, his form folded under hers, sinking to the ground as she allowed her grip to cease. As Emmeline pulled away, feeling full, she looked down in horror at the sight that lay beneath her.
"Will? Will!" She shook him, trying to bring him out of the fugue she'd unwittingly pushed him into.
William moaned, his eyes opening slowly. He looked around, seemed to not know where he was, then settled his gaze on Emmeline. A curve of a smile, just there but so weak, all caused by the sight of her. She was home and that was all that mattered. But his eyes began to slip closed again as the loss of blood took hold of his body. He didn’t have enough to keep himself awake and his body was trying to save itself, so it sought comfort from a dream world.
She shook him again, confused and worried. Nathalie had always been present at her feedings, ensuring that she only took enough to survive. Emmeline had little idea of what to do, but the details of her own embrace were clear enough; lifting one slim wrist to her mouth, she bit deep enough to draw up her own blood. She pressed the wound to Will's mouth, her other hand on the back of his head to encourage him to feed.
"Please, Will, please...oh God, please..."
Her blood spread over his lips and dripped down the side of his face at first. It gathered in his mouth and worked its way down his throat until he began to choke. A cough, his body jolting, but already the blood had ignited the cells in his throat, setting it into motion towards death but that was all beyond William’s understanding.
His eyes opened again, his dark gaze focusing on Emmeline, and his lips suctioned on her slim wrist. He swallowed and lifted one hand to hold onto her arm, pressing it against his mouth. It was animalistic, this reaction, and somewhere in the back of William’s mind he found the entire thing unusual and wrong. But it was such a small voice smothered by a greater one telling him to drink more, to do more, to take in this powerful blood to make himself whole again because he needed it and he liked the pleasure it was giving him.
Emmeline petted the back of his head, pulling him onto her lap. Her legs folded to make a neat pillow, she felt somewhat reassured as he drank. If this was all that was required, what more need she do? Still, she worried the skin of her bottom lip, the pull of his mouth on her wound creating another sensation between her legs as she waited and watched.
With each swallow of her blood, he felt a little better. He felt his strength return, at least in his hands as he gripped her arm. His eyes were brighter as they met hers and he felt such an outpouring of love for her, that this action between them was perfect, the best experience he had ever had. He moaned again, draining the stolen blood from her wrist into himself. He’d take her all into himself if he could.
"I think...I think that's enough, Will," she said, trying to pull her wrist away. She was beginning to feel faint; she wrenched her wrist back, reclaiming her arm, but he reached to try and catch it again, missing. A dry tongue attempted to wet her lips as she bent over his face. "Will? Will?"
His hands fell, weakly, and his eyes gazed at her wrist before slowly moving to meet her own. Blood colored his lips, his neck still had blood on the skin and the rug was a mess, but already his skin had paled and his heartbeat was pumping less and less as Emmeline’s blood worked into his body.
He stared at her, silently, as a sigh eased out of his parted lips. He had nothing to say, he couldn’t say anything, instead, his eyes closed out the world.
She shook him, attempting to instill life into his seemingly dead body. Tears pricked at her eyes.
"God no, Will, please." But any attempt seemed fruitless as he lay there, too still. Emmeline pressed a hand over her mouth, horrified at what she had done. Her mind went completely blank, unsure of what to do in that situation, and then one thought rose to the forefront -- run.
She climbed to her feet, seeking out the only source of help that she could think of; she ran through the open front door, down the street, her steps pounding the sidewalk as she nearly tripped when her skirt wrapped too tightly around her legs. There was only one place to go, and that was back into the arms of her Sire, who would surely be able to wipe this sin clean.