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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/622579-BloodRose
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #622579
Five thousand years have passed, when would come the Huntseason?
This piece has won a place in the following contests:

1)Your Stab At The Not So Big One contest
Subject: WINNERS OF ROUND THAT ENDED 03/03
Short Story
1) When we Fall
2) Blood Rose-by Tweekma
3) Chasing Foolish Dreams
HM) Loki
HM) The Dream
storyndreams


2)My First Fantasy, Fanfic Contest
by: Gabriel05
Second Place:
ID: 622579 (Rated: PG-13)
Title: BloodRose
Description: Five thousand years have passed, when would come the "Huntseason?"
By: Tweekma


3) Wait...huh? (sci-fi-fantasy contest)
By:eiratan
1st Place (Awardicon and 3000 gp)
ID: 622579 (Rated: PG-13)
Title: BloodRose
Description: Five thousand years have passed, when would come the "Huntseason?"
By: Tweekma




BloodRose



PROLOGUE;
"Sharine, you need to be listening!" rang in my ears. History of the Ancientii was so dismal. What relativity did it have on me in this day and age?

Instructorii Angatti continued with her lecture..."The great race of the Vampirri had left earth at the ending of the second Purge Movement. Finally, to escape the never ending persecution that the humans could never fully rise above. Some to seek their fortunes. All to seek their futures. Fifty thousand strong headed toward a galaxy they had named the Havens. The colonists had sent ships to pave the way before them. These scientists had created the entities called the BloodRose. Great masses covered with vines, which grew giant, blood red roses. The thorns were sickle-like daggers. The roots of the BloodRose could channel through granite, thereby covering the planets with outlets the Vampirri could drink from. The entities' first priority was to feed the Vampirri the blood they could not live without. It did this through its feeder blooms. The second was to cover the planets that the BloodRose were seeded on, and to await the coming of the masses. There would never be hunger again. Of all the planets seeded, only Lyoseen with it's double suns and triple moons had borne fruit. The first BloodRose, as it encompassed the planet, had mutated to various colors. When the Vampirri arrived, the eldest and strongest family had chosen the red, mother BloodRose. The Vampirri families left from that first war, fought long years more for possesion of the remaining various colored entities. Thus our present day hierarchy was established. These struggles came to known as, The Great Blood Wars. Over the course of five thousand years a fairly polite and genteel society has evolved from those first settlers. It took a thousand years for most of the savagery and bloodlust to be bred out of the Vampirri...That is enough for today. We shall continue tomorrow little one."



BLOODROSE


The mornings were always my favorite. Early morning, right before our double suns came up. This morn, two of the three moons were still out. The pale pink of Oosa, first sun to rise, made the mists in the garden look like pink snakes hunting. I loved to slip from my room to walk these paths, with the mists swirling around my feet, even my waist, in the deep parts of the garden. It was here in the deep, with it's palest pink light and slow moving mists, I first saw him. He was in the courtyard of the BloodRose. The great entity that gave our line it's name. BloodRose had stood, towering even over our Manse through time beyond remembrance. Great blood red roses twice as large as a man's head, and thorns like great daggers adorned it.


I remember that morning well, my curiosity had led me forward. Who was this stranger? Even though sheltered all my seasons, I had no reason to fear. I was Sharine, highborn, of the BloodRose line. As I approached, I saw that he was drinking from the BloodRose. Two delicate tendrils looped out from one of the feeder roses and were locked onto the small feeding orifices on his neck. Two more wound around one leg and entered at his thigh. I could see that he was in mid-thrall of feeding. While I waited for him to finish, as was only polite, I took in his appearance. His long shock of white hair was loose to just below his chin, then braided to the middle of his back. His ears lay tightly tucked against his head, ending in points that slightly angled out. His raiment was of softest, gray Wherr hide. High collared, belted at the waist, then falling in loose pleats to the ground. Loose, dark gray boots of the same hide were on his feet. I caught a glimpse of his eyes, as the lids shuddered with the ending of his feeding, they were of deepest emerald. I knew, upon seeing those eyes, he was of the Sirrus line. When he was done feeding he turned and gazed upon me with the arrogance of his people.


As I stood before him, the stranger took in my firm, small body with obvious appreciation. My blood-red hair fell in tangled curls to just below my knees. Both thick and thin swirls tattooed all that he could see of my body, except for my pertly pointed ears. My full bosom, exceedingly tiny waist, and hips of a size, somewhere in between the two, elicited a slight intake of breath on his part. The diaphanous night shift I wore, swirled with the mist at my ankles. My eyes, the gold-flecked silver of our line. These flecks danced in the early light of the rising of Oasen our second sun.


"I am Sharine, of the BloodRose line. Who are you?" I asked him. His eyes imperceptibly opened a little wider at the sound of my voice. The deep timber of it usually took people by surprise.


"Just a traveler, milady. Stopping for a moment's respite." His gravelly voice startled me at first. He laughed at my expression. "Little one, my name is Alairus of the Sirrus line. May I escort you back to your home?" The laugh had revealed his rather long, slightly curved, very handsome fangs. Not unlike my own. In our society, our fangs were the measure of one's beauty. His took my breath away. I took his arm as we turned to stroll back through the mists.


Back at castle Bloodstone, introductions were made. My mother, Shassa, and all my aunties seemed quite taken with Alairus. There was much whispering and nodding of heads among them. Polite nips made the rounds. Alairus let fang tip only enter each women's wrist, as was only polite, and they in turn reciprocated. As it was rare for families to mingle, Alairus was eventually cajoled into staying for the evening's festivities. My hearts, both of them, raced with excitement at the thought of this handsome stranger staying. Soon I was dismissed to my wing of the castle. There I had much to attend to for the evening's festivities. Oh what a day this promised to be. On this eve, I would turn my first hundred seasons. The women of the Manse had always spoke with great pride and much secrecy of the coming of my turning. I only knew that it somehow involved the Bloodrose.


Before I left for my wing of the Manse, I had seen to it that Alairus was given one of the choicest guest quarters: A vast room in the north tower. Great rugs covered the floors from wall to wall. Immense wall hangings described major events of the family history. A huge bed stood next to the window. The window gave a magnificent view of the BloodRose and the surrounding countryside. I also saw to the servants as they scurried in and out of the room. Laying a fire in the great fireplace in a corner opposite the bed. Drawing a bath filled with blood herbs and blood essence. A miniature banquet was laid at the table before the fire. When I saw that all had been prepared to my satisfaction, I bid Alairus adieu until the evening.


After partaking of the bath and the wonderful tidbits from the appetizingly laden table. Alairus found himself strangely lethargic, with a feeling of extreme contentment. Just as if he had come home. He fell into a deep sleep in the huge chair before the fire. He did not wake until the servant girl shook him gently and informed him it was time to prepare for the evening's celebrations. He found it most unusual that he had slept the day away, but passed it off on the long journey. He thought a moment on his reasons for leaving home. These were no more than the wish to see and experience all this world had to offer. Before one day settling down...as his father and uncles had put it. He turned to the outfit lying out for him on the bed. Black Wherla belly of deepest night with a hint of opalescence to it. "Only the finest there," he thought. The shirt, with its wide sleeves gathered at the wrist and high collar that was open to mid stomach, seemed made for him. The pants with one leg fitted and the other leg loose from waist to ankle also fit with an accuracy most unnerving. The gold stitching on the outfit only served to to accentuate his broad chest, narrow waist and long legs. Thigh high boots finished the ensemble. One boot of red was worn to the outside of the fitted leg. The other, of black, under the loose fitting leg. With a last look at himself in the mirror, he headed down to the festivities.


I woke from a fitful nap. Misty bits of the dreaming remained. I rubbed my eyes and moved to the waiting bath. As always it was a good source of easing the restlessness that sometimes remained upon waking. Anticipation of the night soon replaced all other thoughts. After the restorative blood bath, I slipped into the magnificent blood red gown that awaited me. With its high split collar angling to the shoulder. Fitted sleeves, with scalloped openings, ended in point. The second skin bodice was inlaid with black pearls. These trailed down from the bodice to encircle my waist and hips. From shoulder to waist my tattooed back took up where the dress left off. The gown then fell to mid thigh where it split and continued to the ground. When I walked the bottom edges trailed behind me several feet. Along those edges were also lined with black pearls. An open scrolled skullcap of red, dripped long strings of black pearls and diamonds. These were woven through and down the length of my hair as they passed through the split collar. Soft black sandals covered with shaved fur and laces that circled my small ankles completed the picture. My eyes glanced at the mirror on my way out and told me "It is your night." Thus readied, down I went to join the gathering.


Alairus had just reached the bottom as Sharine started her descent of the great staircase. He turned around, having noticed all faces rise. In all his four hundred seasons, he had never seen anything so lovely. Her beauty and cat like movements made his double hearts ache for possession of this creature. Was this the "one day," his father and uncles spoke of? As Sharine was descending, she spotted Alairus immediately. Her double hearts raced as if with some great exertion. Her fangs began to itch. She thought vaguely, that had never occurred before. Her neck and inner thigh at her feeding tubes started to warm with no signs of stopping. By the time she had reached the landing, the warmth had become a noticeable discomfort. Alairus spoke softly with his gravelly voice," Do you find it overly warm in here also, milady?" I tipped my head slightly, a slight nod of affirmation. I spoke to him, my voice lowered also, "Yes let us go and find a nice warm, blood cocktail."


Alairus took my arm and we wound our way through the crowd. At every turn there were calls of, "Good Huntseason." I had not heard this event called that before. But being the youngest in my line I had never attended one either. The crowds of Vampirri smiled and nodded their approval as we passed among them.


I could see that the crowd that filled the massive hall that evening was composed of all the highborn of the BloodRose line. The BloodRose highborn women alone lived at the Manse, as was only polite. The men of the BloodRose line had come in from their various vocations. My father and brothers had just that day returned from a southern hunting foray. The BloodRose line of furs were the finest on the planet. My uncles and male cousins had come in from the cities, and the business's that kept them there full time. All were dressed in their finest. Great and ancient family jewels were in abundance. Sparkling almost blindingly midst the Vampirii milling beneath the giant candlelit chandeliers.


We stopped at the BloodRose fountain to cool the warmth in our veins. I noticed that soon would be the hour of my turning. I wondered of the event my mother had always hinted at. "Ah well, let it come." I thought. "I am of age now and have a most handsome amusement for the evening." Alairus led me to one of the many tables in the hall laden with blooded delicacies. Both of us reached for the same tidbit, stopped, looked at the other and softly laughed. I took the tidbit and fed Alairus. He in turn he fed me. I thought to myself "Surely this would be one to take as a mate." (Little did I know)Just as Alairus was thinking, "I must have this prize." So our evening went, a study in synchrony.


Mother came to us and begged for a bit of Alairus's time. As they left, my father stepped into the space beside me. It was rare that I saw him and rarer still to speak to him.


"Are you prepared for your turning?" his large eyes drilled into me as he spoke.


"I am as prepared as my mother has allowed." I looked at him directly as I answered.


"Has Shassa told you of the prophecy?" He saw by the look in my eyes that my mother had not. "Come Sharine, sit with me" he spoke as he led me to a secluded alcove. When I was seated he began, "It was bred into the BloodRose entity to recognize the one of us, who on their one hundred turning, would be our saving. The scientists that made the entities feared that our true natures might not survive. So they designed it also as a monitor. The BloodRose would watch our society as time went on. After centuries of we Vampirri being fed by the BloodRose, we have become as the Screep in the fields. Just as they had feared. True Vampirri need to hunt. We need to feed as we were meant to. Life's blood taken, not given. The entity was genetically designed to develop and identify a leader to bring us back to our true nature, should we stray too far from it. It has been foretold that this leader would come from our line. Each first hundred turning of our young we have anxiously awaited that one's coming. I know you have heard the term for it tonight, Huntseason."



I suddenly knew he spoke the truth. Little remembered dreams came at me like Razorbirds. These were birdlike creatures that one found on the shores of our great ocean. When they were in a frenzy of feeding, all that was left of their prey were razor thin scraps. The dreams came at my memory and left it in those strips. I sat silent in remembering. Was I to be this...One? The years of the women's conversations made sense. They had hoped that I was.


Shassa, along with several other highborn females, came to us. Mother looked at father, "It is spoken," he told her. The look that now passed between them was filled with expectancy. "It is time then, the BloodRose calls." She spoke these words as she came to me and took my hand. "Good Huntseason daughter."


As I was escorted from the Manse, I saw great masses of people lining the way to the courtyard. As we moved closer to the BloodRose, which was not yet in sight, the crowd grew thicker. My fangs began to itch and throb. My neck and thigh resumed their burn with renewed intensity. As we came over the rise that led to the amphitheater like courtyard surrounding the entity, a vast sea of faces turned to our approach. The crowd drew apart then closed behind us as we made our way to the great entity.


The BloodRose was in full bloom under the night's triple moons. Every one of the feeders had their delicate tendrils out. The Bloodrose looked as if it were doing an eerie moonlit dance with its tendrils waving to and fro, like it was seeking. Seeking what? I felt it in my bones. A force pulling me toward the entity. As I stood at the boundary of ancient vines, all feeders bent toward me. Their tendrils fastened onto the great vines before me and began to pull them apart. Ever so slowly the huge vines gave way. A strange crackling, creaking, soft slithering sound emanated from the vast interior. Movement began at the center and came toward the opening. A huge feeder bud emerged from the opening and stopped above me. The bud was as large as a body. The burn I had been feeling, now become an inferno. As I started to faint the bud opened and lowered to take me into it's interior. Tendrils beyond count wove themselves around my limp body. The bud closed and slowly retreated into the interior of the entity.


From silence the great crowd erupted into full volume. There had never been a Huntseason quite like this. The giant feeder rose had never appeared before. Surely this child must be the one. Speculation flew on Razor bird wings. It had never been clear as to what would occur when the "One" came. In those that time had worked too well on, fear started as a kernel. In others, the restlessness started. Deep in the recesses of ancient memory, fires were igniting. The Vampirri gathered had become an entity unto themselves. The expectation that rose from them could almost be tasted. Like a youngster in its first season that could not suckle enough at a font. It was the start of the "Huntseason". Dual hearts increased their beating. Among the fearful as well as the expectant. Until they were almost in time with each other. You could smell the fear gathered in little knots strung to each other across the masses. The tangible, invisible bond of waiting. The stirring of the pack preceding the hunt.


The BloodRose began a low keening. As it rose in volume the milling crowd became aware of a smell of dying. A soft pungency, as of foliage left by season turning. Every bloom of the great BloodRose reached skyward. When they could reach no further, the petals began to fall. One by one until the moonlit sky was a dappled rain of blood. Through all this the giant feeder bud, that encased me, rose above the rain of petals. The crowd watched in mute shock, horror, grief, but mostly hungry anticipation. As the rain started to ease, the bud started to open.


My hair was first to emerge as if blown by a wind from within the bud. With the blossoming, I was slowly revealed. With my long hair creating a nimbus about me I began to speak. "I am the BloodChild of the Huntseason! Across our planet the BloodRose is dying. We now begin the time of chaos. Only those of us with the will to hunt, shall survive."


Alairus had watched from where he was bound near the front of the crowd. Shassa had taken him from Sharine's company. As she had him chained, she told him of the prophecy. Her words to him before he was brought to this place were, "You will be a gift for Sharine if she is the One." As his rapt attention was on Sharine he did not see the great vine reach out to him. As it encircled his waist, he began to struggle. The vine lifted him toward Sharine. He stopped his struggle as they neared the BloodChild.


I reached for him and brought him to stand beside me. Then, like brushing crumbs from the table, I freed him from his shackles with light flicks of my fingers. Then I looked long upon his face. I already knew what his answer would be. Then I spoke, "Are you of mine?"


"There was never doubt," he replied. As the great rose began to lower us, it's petals falling one by one. I, now the BloodChild, spoke a last time to the crowd, as was only polite, "The time of the Huntseason has come." Then I turned to Alairus, looked into his emerald eyes, and ripped the smaller of his two hearts out... "Mmmmm...you taste as good as you look my beloved" I rasped softly, after running my tongue over his still beating heart. I sank my fangs into the heart but for a moment, for but the slightest sip. Then I withdrew them and placed his heart gently back into his chest. I lowered my head to his chest and kissed the open wound. As I drew back from him the ragged flesh was already swiftly mending. "Now you truly are of mine. Come now beloved, let us hunt."



Here ends my tale...and as is only polite...I wish you your own...Good Huntseason!



Note: (The Wherr are large bat like creatures with vicious tempers and lightning reflexes, that are native to this planet. Only the most skilled hunters, braving the icy lands of the south, survived to bring back their hides.)

(The Screep were genetically derived from deer, horses and sheep. They are smallish, medium furred, hoofed, with horns. Ranging the full color spectrum. Used for clothing and food. Developed in early colonization of Lyoseen)



My sincere thanks to:
"Elijah Ridic" my constant source of inspiration.
"Liam Jackson" for his faith and generosity.
"Severed Ed" for his gentle guiding hand.
And to all the denizens of Stories.com

Coming eventually, "BloodChild"
© Copyright 2003 Tweekma (knaylor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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