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From: Bryon
Elizabeth Feildric, harpy to the city of Dallas, was reclining comfortably in her leather armchair, enjoying a glass of red wine as she studied the horizon through the panoramic windows of this, a little smaller than you’d expect, but extremely aesthetically decorated drawing-room. The room was dominated by dark wooden colors, broken by outcrops of black leather furniture, and inconspicuous lamps cast their warm glow over the natural, yet desolate scene. Through the glass panes, the city was yet clothed in the darkness that was the playground of the Kindred, but pangs of color were starting to disrupt the Elysian night.
The attractive form of the lady of the house was obviously waiting for someone. Her long black hair had slight auburn highlights, complimenting her black dress very well. She ran her middle finger around the edge of her wine-glass. Her heightened senses easily picked up his footsteps as he came up the stairs in the hall. She heard the door click as her servant, as attentive as she was to such matters, opened the door for her visitor without him having to knock. Her face lit up in anticipation.
She felt a stab of disappointment as Bryon, her newly released childe, walked with dragging steps through the door into her nest. His trenchcoat and hair, both wet from the falling dew outside, were a mess, and underneath the coat his chest was bare. But his face was the most disturbing aspect of his appearance, his cheeks distorted, his eyes burning with hatred. Elizabeth had to actively suppress a look of shock and fear. She swallowed unnoticeably.
“Bryon, you look like a mess.” She stood up, and walked towards him. “ I am sorry I had to call you this way, but you didn’t answer your telephone, and I need to know how you’re doing. Your actions will still reflect back on me, you know, and I don’t like the apparent fact that you weren’t going to spend the day in your apartment.”
Although the sheer proximity of his sire helped calm the searing rage that flowed thorough Bryon’s veins, but this was too much for him to bear. This night had been a mystery, an enchantment by the gods of romance since he had left the pub and met the sliver of perfection that was Aela Felice Vilette, and this creature make a mockery of it with her childish stunt, plunging him into a nightmare, for this?
With inhuman speed he snatched her wrist, and held it with the force of a madman, slowly burning Aela’s blood in in veins, unable to control himself. “You’re sorry?”, he hissed through his teeth. “You FUCKING BITCH, WHAT ABOUT MY LIFE?” Every muscle in his body was tightened, ready to fling her through the glass of her panoramic windows if need be, or simply crush the life from her inch by inch.
In a fluid movement, Elizabeth freed herself from his grip and slapped him across the face with a force that knocked him off balance, and spun him around to face the windows kneeling. This time it was her face that was alive with fury, as the full force of her Presence stood out from her as invisible bolts of lightning, searing Bryon in his subjugated posture. Her voice was a mixture of loathing and malice. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again, or you will be sorry. Get into the guest room. We’ll talk about this tomorrow night.” She turned her back to his broken form, and walked through a heavy oaken door towards her private chambers.
Bryon got up slowly, as if to steady himself against the onslaught of morning, and proceeded to follow his sire into blessed oblivion, at least for a couple of hours.