Xaylen

He drew back slowly, ever so slowly, hot, suffocating blood dripping from his bottom lip, but the splash it made against the damp ground echoed in his ears. Closing his lips he could taste the residue of blood, so thick and delightful, he stood slowly, his bangs casting shadows over his eyes and hiding them. He took a step back, shoes against asphalt echoing through the alleyway, making the night seem...empty. Another sliding step back, a second, a third, until he stood in the middle of the damp, dimly lit street. The blood in his mouth flooded his senses, forcing his eyes to remain locked on the body, which was slumped over against the dumpster. But the body didn't move...it didn't move. With a flick of his tongue, he cleaned his lip of the blood, thinning against his throat as he swallowed it. Yet another step back, but the silence filled his ears, pounded in his head. Standing alone, he glanced to his right and then to his left, taking more steps back before once more locking eyes on the shadowed body, the heel of his foot hitting against the curb and causing him to stumble backwards, against the sidewalk. Pushing with hands and feet, he pressed himself against the wall of a building, eyes wide with horror. After a couple minutes, he drew in a breath and closed his eyes, letting out a long, loud, agonizing scream that echoed and mocked him in return.

"You monster..." Her voice quickly invaded his mind, an icy whisper killing off the silence, causing him to visibly jump, eyes darting about for the source, knowing he won't find one.

"I didn't -..."

"You did! You killed him! And for what? Your own bloodlust? Monster." Sharp, crisp, clean voice echoing through the streets, through the darkness.

"No," he murmured, tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if he were struggling to breathe.

"Xay..." A touch on the shoulder from a gloved hand forced his eyes to snap back into focus, meeting soft amber orbs. "Xaylen...are you alright?"

Drawing in a quick breath, his eyes flickered between the person who was now bent in front of him and the body in the alleyway. "I...I..." He lowered his voice, but continued to struggle, "...killed him...I killed him...!"

"I...know...", the new, soft voice floating towards him, slowly trying to comfort.

"His...blood...I can still...taste..." He began to tremble, his bangs swaying softly in front of his eyes.

"I know...it'll be there, for quite some time..." Placing her other gloved hand on his shoulder, she attempting to keep him still, his gaze focussed, kneeling down between him and the fallen body.

Tucking his arms against his chest, he kept himself pressed against the cold wall, "I don't want...to taste it..."

"Then drink someone else's, Xay...drink from me..."

"No!" Still shaking, he began to push himself to his feet. "No blood..."

She held his shoulders with a firm grip, keeping him down, but her words became lost due to the icey chill again filling his head with a cold chuckle, "Yessss, Xayleeeeennnn...drink from the monster, do not deny who you are..." He quickly shrank back down to a sitting position, closing his eyes tight, trying to fight the voice.

"Xaylen!" Her voice managed to cut through again, his dark eyes slowly opening and looking up towards hers, "listen to me..."

Leaning forward slightly, he spoke in a low whisper, "I've killed before, Drake...they...haunt me...their blood...I drown in it...every night..."

"I know, Xay...I've killed before..."

He began to shake again, his eyes finding their way back to the body, "and she whispers to me...my wife..." Breaking down, he began to cry, blood red tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

The tears, however, where caught by gloved fingers, soaking into the black leather. "What...happened to her...?"

"Her blood tastes the worse..."

"Xaylen..."

He began to talk faster, in hurried whispers, through sobs and more tears, "I thought...I thought it'd be...nice to have someone to spend eternity with...she tasted -so- good at first..."

Remaining quiet, she moved to block his view from the body again, keeping amber eyes on his, forcing him to focus on her.

"...She struggled..."

"...To change...?"

Nodding, he lifted his own hand to dry his cheeks, smearing the blood across his skin.

She drew back slightly and for the first time he was able to see the soft, dark curls framing her pale face, "...Who...who turned her...?"

His eyes grew wide, as if realizing something for the first time, "I...did..."

"Who...turned you...?"

"She...she called herself Kam - ", pausing, he struggled to get the name past his throat, sounding dry with unuse, "Kam - Kamilla..."

"Tri...", whispered between his struggles so the bearer of the name would not hear. Hooking her arms under his to wrap around his back, she stood up slowly, supporting his weight against her body. "Xaylen...I'm sorry..."

"Drake..." He drew back enough to face her as he was pulled to his feet, his eyes flickering towards the body, "Drake, I have to go..." Letting his hands hang at his sides, he side-stepped, then turned to walk down the empty street.

She gave no resistance, but was reluntant to let him go, her voice floating softly after him, "Xaylen..."

He stopped, turned his head before turning his body to face her, his voice quiet and low, "...am I monster?"

"...If you are...then I am by far worse..." Her voice continued as he started to walk away again, "Xaylen...come to me...if you need anything...or to talk..." But he had faded away into the mist of the night before she finished her sentence.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants, the silence once more began to surround him, until every sound echoed painfully in his head. There was no way to block it out, no way to stop it...the screams swirled and invaded his mind; sinful, stolen pleasure taken from innocent victims. The night's mist swirled about his legs as he quickened his pace, stepping through the rusted, iron gates of a cemetery. Pausing, he lifted his head, watching the mist roll about the tombstones and old graves through the strands of hair which fall in front of his eyes. The screams being cut off as he stepped inside, but leaving a haunting echo on his consciousness. The mist now shied away from his steps as he walked along the narrow, unkempt paths, keeping his eyes slightly downcast, allowing his feet to find their own way. He had walked these paths and trails many times before and now felt perfectly at home among the dirt covered bodies. Most of the time he envied them, reading them names of the tombstones one by one, fanciful thinking twisting the letters to form his name, but there was never a death date. And sometimes he imagined his grave beside the one he now stood in front of, lovers resting eternally in peace. The tombstone was an elegant statue of an angel, wings outstretched, timid hands reaching for the empty space beside her where another grave was suppose to go. His grave.

Kneeling down, he cleared away the snow from the base of the statue, tracing the engraved letters with his fingertips:

Elizabeth von Nacht
1756 - 1793

Closing his eyes, he felt a cool breeze brush past him, caressing his cold cheeks with whispers of loving sorrow. "I'm so sorry..." but that same breeze picked up his words and carried them away as if they were meaningless. He kept his hand on the stone, covering the letters, kneeling in front of the waiting angel until the first rays of light broke past her wings, but he was already gone, leaving the whispers in their own agony.