Date: Friday, February 21, 1997 4:57 AM
The Canth of Youth... 15 years and many moons ago
Alone in the darkness…… once again alone, forever alone… it called to her, this man, this creature of the night…. For she knew him as surely as she knew Regina… vampyr, nosferatu, servant of the Wyrm, tainter of Wyld… She wanted him, as she had wanted nothing since her puppihood…. She softly laid her head on her paws… listening to him retreat through her woods; her heart knew him, felt his passage, for he reeked to her, just as she reeked to her own kind. Outcast they called her. Born the whelp of two werewolves; she was an abomination to the tribes... looked upon with pity by her age mates... a freak of nature by the elders. She survived by sheer force of will, though the madness was always with her, the voices, driving her to the brink of hysteria... Silence! Surcease was her final goal, and peace… beyond the rage, beyond the turmoil… Somewhere to belong, and love…… she desired love above all else. She stood and watched him as he disappeared, knapsack slung over his shoulder, almost wrathful in appearance… She was the reason he had come, she knew this as surely as she knew his name…. Ryk…The she-wolf stopped in it's tracks. There is someone else here, here in her woods. Why? Who would come out here this late at night? It must be a man, no lupine could make that much noise if it tried...
There, in the clearing, there he is. What is he doing?
She settles down to watch, carefully hidden in the shadows...
He steps into the clearing, into the moonlight. All black leather and silver...
He stops, sets down his shoulder bag, shrugs off his leather duster...
Wearing nothing but his worn black jeans and scuffed military boots, he steps away from the bag and duster, into the middle of the clearing...
His tall lanky body shines a kinda blue in the moonlight. He simply stands there, like a statue. Then he sits cross legged, and stops moving. Stops moving in a way that no mere mortal can accomplish. An absolute cessation of movement. Not even a breath...
Or a heartbeat.
He sits, still. Absorbing the moonlight, trying to feel the nature around him. She can tell that is what he is doing, she isn't sure how. Maybe it is the many times she has sat, unclothed, in this same clearing, communing.
After a short time, he launches himself to his feet, crying out in pain. He stands there, back arched, face to the sky, and cries out, cries out with such pain and suffering that she can hardly bear it...
Then, silence. Again.
Suddenly, so fast she can barely believe it, he goes into a rage, tearing at the ground with his hands, running through the forest. She follows, carefully, unable to tear herself from this scene...
He comes back to the clearing, still raging, crying out in pain. He stands before an oak, fully a foot in diameter. His left arm shoots out, his fist smashing through the wood like it were paper. His right fist strikes the tree, bringing the entire towering forest lord down.
He sags to his knees. Sobbing, looking at the destruction he has wrought in his rage.
Weeping tears of blood.
She knows now.
He eventually gathers his belongings, and leaves the woods the way he came. She gets a look at his face in the moonlight. He is not attractive, not by far. But his eyes. His eyes hold power, and the pain of centuries.
The pain of never belonging again.
He is gone. She thinks of the one coherent thing he spoke. There at the end.
"I am Brujah. And that must be enough."
Fearful of her motivations, she remained still, fighting with herself, pacing from foot to foot… Should she follow? Should she stay, and betray her fascination? Turn her back on the desire she harbored for him? He was not a beautiful man, but something about him… The soft fall of his hair… the strength of his voice, the violence he promised in every movement… it was all too intoxicating. She did not try to understand, but she knew longing… It had been a long time since she felt the sublime fire of a vampire's teeth in her throat, matching heartbeats… The pain, the passion of being, having her blood drawn from her once again… She swallowed, feeling the saliva flood her mouth… and the sumptuous delight of feeding while being fed upon… A long time…
Motion started before she knew it was she, and not the world passing her by… the reeling was so immense that motion almost made her sick… Quick, silent as smoke, even the pads of her feet were tingling. He rose from the ground by degrees, a figure alone, testing the space around him, tasting nature, tempting it to come forth, to slay, to risk his wrath. Her heart pounded with anticipation, and her breath was warm on her face, thick and fast with more than exertion. He stopped, looking around, for he sensed her.
She slowed, letting her tongue loll, wondering how she would appear to him… A black wolf with green eyes; emerald fire in an ebony field. He waited, looking wary, slow to want recognition, though the sadness in his eyes belied his calm indifference.