i am drinking in this darkness
these rusted and crumbling memories
whose hand drew this line"
whose tears, whose blood, whose scars"
these nails aren't mine, this
echo of weeping women
the words scrawled upside down:
i am thinking of you
The grapes eventually stopped growing. The intoxicating redolence of fruit was replaced with the heady scent of death. Vines crackled with starvation, leaves withered and turned from green to dust. Even birds had abandoned this small vineyard, the soil too ill to house worms.
Filthy and wan, Illiana emerged from the stockhouse and stood, eyes crinkling at the brightness of a pregnant moon. How many days since she had fed" Weeks" Her fingertips ached and her heart felt rotten in her breast. Collapsing near the long-dry well, she whispered prayers and waited for the sun to come.
~
Is this death" The jumble of sensation clouded her brain, awe replaced all too quickly with panic. Lifting her head, she realized she was no longer in the vineyard. Having grown used to sleeping on dirty stone, the softness of bedsheets felt like a past life. Beside her was a tall glass filled with thick, black liquid.
"Gideon?" The name tumbled out of her lips as she sat up, wincing as her bones reacquainted themselves with motion. Had he come for her" Had he found her"
There was no reply. The room was empty. Illiana settled her attention on the glass beside her. She reached for it, lifting it to her nostrils. The scent was vaguely familiar. Without a second thought, she drank and drank until the liquid was gone. Her belly warmed and her vision blurred. Dreamily, she fell back into slumber, the glass tumbling to the floor.
~
Many nights, Illiana had awoken as if from a coma, confused and ravenous. She always uttered Gideon's name, always heard no reply, and always drank the glass of liquid on her bedside until she again lost consciousness. One evening, she awoke and found no glass. Instead, a stranger sat against the far wall, watching her.
Illiana froze as her eyes met his. Hope dissolved into fear. This was not her lover. He broke the silence first.
"Who is Gideon?" His voice was soft, lilting, almost Scottish. Illiana imagined she was no longer in France.
"How do you know that name?" Gripping the sheets, she realized she was clothed in a long, satin night dress. So he had touched her, had bathed her. Her heart would have beat a distress signal if only it could pump blood.
"When I found you, it was nearly daybreak. You were speaking Latin, murmuring about Gideon and grapes. I found nothing in your possession to help identify you. Of course, I suppose fledgling vampires don't often carry ID cards." He chuckled then, as if the whole affair were commonplace and amusing.
"You know what I am." She moved as if to stand, and found that her limbs were not quite willing. Defeated, she gazed down into her lap, legs dangling uselessly over the side of the mattress.
He rose and moved to her, guiding her into a standing position as if it were no strange thing to be so close. "You're well enough to hunt if you'll simply get used to moving about again. You've slept for almost two months in my bed."
"I have to get back to Rhydin, I have to find Gideon."
"My dear child, this is Rhydin."
She lost consciousness again, dreaming of driftwood and grapevines.
The grapes eventually stopped growing. The intoxicating redolence of fruit was replaced with the heady scent of death. Vines crackled with starvation, leaves withered and turned from green to dust. Even birds had abandoned this small vineyard, the soil too ill to house worms.
Filthy and wan, Illiana emerged from the stockhouse and stood, eyes crinkling at the brightness of a pregnant moon. How many days since she had fed" Weeks" Her fingertips ached and her heart felt rotten in her breast. Collapsing near the long-dry well, she whispered prayers and waited for the sun to come.
~
Is this death" The jumble of sensation clouded her brain, awe replaced all too quickly with panic. Lifting her head, she realized she was no longer in the vineyard. Having grown used to sleeping on dirty stone, the softness of bedsheets felt like a past life. Beside her was a tall glass filled with thick, black liquid.
"Gideon?" The name tumbled out of her lips as she sat up, wincing as her bones reacquainted themselves with motion. Had he come for her" Had he found her"
There was no reply. The room was empty. Illiana settled her attention on the glass beside her. She reached for it, lifting it to her nostrils. The scent was vaguely familiar. Without a second thought, she drank and drank until the liquid was gone. Her belly warmed and her vision blurred. Dreamily, she fell back into slumber, the glass tumbling to the floor.
~
Many nights, Illiana had awoken as if from a coma, confused and ravenous. She always uttered Gideon's name, always heard no reply, and always drank the glass of liquid on her bedside until she again lost consciousness. One evening, she awoke and found no glass. Instead, a stranger sat against the far wall, watching her.
Illiana froze as her eyes met his. Hope dissolved into fear. This was not her lover. He broke the silence first.
"Who is Gideon?" His voice was soft, lilting, almost Scottish. Illiana imagined she was no longer in France.
"How do you know that name?" Gripping the sheets, she realized she was clothed in a long, satin night dress. So he had touched her, had bathed her. Her heart would have beat a distress signal if only it could pump blood.
"When I found you, it was nearly daybreak. You were speaking Latin, murmuring about Gideon and grapes. I found nothing in your possession to help identify you. Of course, I suppose fledgling vampires don't often carry ID cards." He chuckled then, as if the whole affair were commonplace and amusing.
"You know what I am." She moved as if to stand, and found that her limbs were not quite willing. Defeated, she gazed down into her lap, legs dangling uselessly over the side of the mattress.
He rose and moved to her, guiding her into a standing position as if it were no strange thing to be so close. "You're well enough to hunt if you'll simply get used to moving about again. You've slept for almost two months in my bed."
"I have to get back to Rhydin, I have to find Gideon."
"My dear child, this is Rhydin."
She lost consciousness again, dreaming of driftwood and grapevines.