Introductions are made.
|It was a night like no other. The moon hung low in the vacant sky like the dark watchful eye. And the winds rolled in packs through the streets howling for the new moon's return. The man and women, mortal or immortal abandoned the streets.
But were the mortal would not dwell others did. Beneath the streets, down in the corridors of ancient labyrinths of ancient death. Lucien roamed the under the city when the daylight delimited his movement.
The most ornate and resplendent part of the city was his most favored part of the city. Where luxurious and embellished lived. In his experience he has himself developed a taste of the blue blood's life, he himself has acquired and accumulated a wealth of his own. His mortal life of destitution has developed in him a preference for the blue blood. And managed to quickly point out that the blood was actually red.
Tonight was to be like any other night. The sun was resting in the vast ocean. But a certain something was amiss, something that crept through the hard concrete and stone. Into the soft soil grow the seed of malevolence. That could only swell.
Tonight Lucien decided to remain in his daytime retreat underground. A spacious, lavishly furnished cellar with some of the modern convinces. But overall it was still the cellar. It was under one of is own establishments. He owned many now a days. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of them all.
The dark resonating sound of the deep cello filled the room. Lucien slouched in the expensive chair in the corner flipping through the book he has read hundreds of time of the a hundred years. Trying to drown out that incessant dripping pipe yards above.
Mon Dieu! A plumper! Please!
The dripping continued.
A sound near the door wrenched him around.
A young, pale, petite woman stood near the doorway. So quiet, he hadn’t even heard her approach. Only death was that quiet. Hair black as a crow curled in long coils down her chest and back. Contrasting drastically with her snow-white skin.
“You must come. The masters must meet tonight.” She said. He voice filled the room with an air of command and patience. So jaded for one so seemingly young. Looks are always deluding.
“What is the meaning of this, WN1?” Lucien closed his book and sat up, back rigid. Cautious.
“There are to be no explanations, just come.” WN1 said. She turned to leave. Lucien stood up at if a puppet on strings, death can teach many tricks.
She stopped. “No tricks please. I may be human, but I am no fool. No tricks.”
Human? She calls herself human? Lucien thought to himself.
“Yes I call myself human, Lucien. Is that a problem for you?” She turned around. Lucien averted his eyes down to the marble floor. He didn’t want to look at her eyes. The voids.
“You can read my thoughts. And know the truths from lies like any of us. That is all I was thinking.” Lucien traced the gray swirls in the floors with his eyes.
“You we know there is more to that.” A cool draft crept inside the room curling around the cool bodies and ruffling their clothes and hair. The crisp sound of her heels clicked against the marble. The cool wind teased against Lucien as she got closer. Goose bumps stamped upon his skin. He hadn’t known he could still do that.
“Yes I know. I quiet human. And it is tempting at times. But we must go to the task at hand. In less you want to help me be myself.” She stopped. “Come now. Before the night grows colder.”
He looked up to an empty room. She was gone. Probably almost there. Only death could be that fast.
The corridors were dark and cool with death. He moved with that speed he had accumulated since that night years ago.
On nights like this the torches were usually lit and the doors open. But tonight was like no other night.
Millions of halls and corridors racked under the city. Even Lucien himself found himself a bit lost at times. Depending upon his own dark gift to find a way. Only the passage ways familar to him did he walk.
Then there by the a door was a single torch. And threw the door Lucien was stun a moment adjusting to the pure white room.