A few steps outside the underground facility where I woke up, my newest, seemingly sickly devotee points to a modest carriage with a human driver awaiting. While still wrapping me around her arms, she extends one of her hands to open her carriage door as she signs the driver to proceed with his duties.
"Forgive me, sire. All thy faithful follower can offer is this poor ride," She said apologetically with a minor bow of her head and a slight, tighter grip around my waist.
I wouldn't label it as 'poor ride'. Actually, compared to what I once had, this is quite luxurious. Anyway, Cecile's devotion is unheard of. In truth, having a vulture be so fond of me is a newfound joy. The chance to be around my own is one I haven't had back then—it was just three of us, and Revgnir completely disappeared. What truly amazes me, however, is the fact that she seems to know about me—messiah aside, she has an odd lot of information about me. She claims these 'scriptures' are her source, but who would have written them? Few people knew me, and even fewer had any information whatsoever about me. Could it be Ascyla or Gaius? ... I somehow doubt Marie would allow them; besides, we weren't close. On the other hand, this, for lack of a better word, 'religion' around me, appears to be unheard of by many and followed by few; perhaps because of a certain rat who sought to extirpate any whiff of my existence.
"Paris looks horrible," I comment casually while watching the view pass by through the comfort of my seat, hand on the curtains of the window. Once my friend from Allemani told me not to come here, too much burning, he said—now I see he spoke the truth. Women are being casually dragged away and attached to wooden stakes, while bichops yells something about the gentleness and mercifulness of their god... hypocrites. The lined stakes with burning corpses remind me of horrible moments I wish to erase from my mind, but somehow these remembrances always return. No matter the age, the smell of burned and rotten flesh is the same, the lifeless bodies thrown into the dirt while human children play on the sidewalk, guards abusing their little authority by beating the powerless to the ground for scraps, the old, sick homeless people being ignored by all who pass—humans always remains the same, no matter the place, no matter the era.
"War is around every corner. Inquisition, vampire overpopulation, werewolves tribes, northness heathens invasions, cults rising on a whim—the list is endless, sire," Cecile said with a detached tone.
I let out a sad chuckle, "I'm ignorant of most of thy words. Is vampire the modern term for our kind? It's quite lovely," Werewolves... I heard of werebeasts, like my late lover Sophia, who could turn into a feline at will. Her face... is still so fresh on my mind, I see it so vividly. But now, after so long, does it truly matter? I wonder. After six hundred years, wouldn't my lover be dead already? Old age, disease... Am I doomed to forever love only to lose? Yet I seek it, incessantly and selfishly bestowing my heart. All seems so... pointless, and it saddens me to feel this way. Somehow, I wish to feel sadder, to fall into despair like I did all those years ago. It hurts... To know that after so long, I barely care anymore—my revenge, only a shallow purpose, a selfish crusade to kill all that dared to touch what is mine... was mine.
Cecile was kind enough to explain most of what was happening along the way; her flattery was random and endless as she did so, always seemingly finding a way to speak sweet words. That aside, it's uncanny how vampires are so uncoordinated. Now, my race is divided into little communities called houses—a wonderful idea, however, it's completely outrageous how out of control this is. Too many houses, too few humans. In between power struggles and petty squabbles, my race is annihilating itself, if not by itself, hunters and the 'inquisition' by the Christian church are finishing most of what is surviving.
"At this point, I firmly believe there are more vampires in Paris than humans," Cecile said with a hint of annoyance.
Out of control, can't even begin to define... Marie is a horrible ruler, I knew it back then. She is too calculative, not a person of action. It truly amazed me when Cecile mentioned her as the empress of our kind, she is so very weak to be considered so. Well, this Résistance, which rose to overthrow her rule, probably thinks the exact same. Our kind lacks a firm hand, proper management, and the ousting of the weak—basically, control. Of course, my newest follower here seems well inclined to persuade me to take the position of ruler, but in truth, my mind is too confused... filled with thoughts, and I can't spare the space to think of being a ruler—At the very least, not right now.
The pleasant and educational ride came to an end after a considerable amount of time had passed. Now, the carriage stops at a strangely clean road, in front of a giant mansion with a facade showing countless windows and balconies. I was enthusiastic to enter such a beautiful and large place—until I laid eyes on the sign.
My eyebrows furrow slightly as I return my gaze to Cecile, who extends her hand to help me leave the carriage. "Thou confuseth me with a harlot? Cecile... Is thy mind clouded by lust?" I said, in frustrated bewilderment.
Cecile's eyes widen as if she just recalled something fundamental. "Pardon me, my sire. I forgot to mention that House Gravelle is known infamously for using brothels as a cover for our nightly activities." A hint of pride lingers in her tone.
My eyes roll to the back of my head as my hands rest upon hers, now walking toward the entrance of said place.
"Such degradation... I shall have thee know that if the circumstances were otherwise, a woman of respect such as I would never enter a brothel." One could even perceive the shame on my pale cheeks, which now presented a reddish shade as we walked closer to the huge double doors that served as an entrance.
A light chuckle leaves Cecilia's mouth, "Thou cuteness is unmatched, my dear sire. However, worry not, for the brothel is closed tonight. But if thou desire to hide thine face, please feel free to snuggle even closer," She said with playfulness yet somehow shyly as her grip tightened slightly around my waist, pulling me closer to her body as we walked side by side.
I knew it! This woman is lustful. Who would own a brothel if not for a lustful person? One look at her and I could sniff it, not only sniff but see too—there is no doubt, her voluptuous, tall frame simply exhales lewdness over her surroundings. Her compliments and willingness to help are but lies shrouded by her faith—she seeks my warmth, I'm sure. Hm! I'm no harlot to raise my skirt over mere compliments and flirtation.
"Coureur de jupons," I mutter while my eyes roll in annoyance.
She gave the door a few knocks, and in no time, the sound of a key turning was made clear. Inside, the atmosphere is one expected of a brothel; however, rather empty—only some vampires indulging in themselves could be seen in the corners, sitting together on couches. Oh my... what a debachary! Why, women should not wear such garments in public view! And even kissing... by Lucifer himself, I shan't be tempted!
We stop by a large empty couch in the back of the hall. Cecile politely asked me to sit and await her return, for she needs to prepare a proper room for me, or so she said. I fall onto the soft pillows like a rock. Ah... I have never felt so tired in all my undying life; my body feels stuck. Strangely, I don't feel thirst, well, a hint, but for six hundred years, I would expect something more feral. Anyway, I'm being stared at quite fiercely, but I wouldn't claim their gaze as aggression, more similar to curiosity. I could hardly be bothered by such a thing, after all, my visage is quite different. Saddens me to see that my appearance is still a matter of concern... am I that odd? I honestly fail to see any major difference from a common person.
Distracted by my thoughts, I was brought back by a youngling who approached me coyly, holding a plate with what my nose identifies as blood inside a goblet. The fine youngling of long black hair stood at my side to speak.
"Good evening, I was assigned to m'lady's service," I could see past her composed mask; her nerves are boiling. I greet her politely, and she proceeds to sit down beside me after handing me my drink. She is dressed so lightly; to make such a young, fine lady dress in such garments is degrading.
"If m'lady wishes..." She said hesitantly while pulling her dress strap to the side.
"No, I harbor no intention of using this type of service," I spoke rather quickly.
I shan't teint myself nor teint her any futher than she already is. I know nothing about her circumstances, perhaps she enjoys performing in this area... It would be untrue to say it isn't tempting, though it somehow feels wrong.
"Rather than that, I would appreciate a chat." I took a small sip of blood while giving her a casual side eye.
She seemed baffled for a instant, but once she understood the assignment, she sat straight and tapped gently on her lap. "Some appreciate this as well, if m'lady would like to speak comfortably," She said politely. Well... why not? I lay down on the large couch, resting my head upon her thighs while looking up. She goes even further by running her hand softly through my long threads of white hair.
"Something troubles thy mind, m'lady?"
"My heart is broken, perhaps beyond repair this time," I said, my lips forming a melancholic smile.
"But thou art so very pretty, like a bright pearl resting on a snow field. Who would dare break thy heart?" She said, her voice slow and caring as she gently runs her fingers over my cheeks.
"Thy words flatter me, but there is no time for such a long story, it seems." I perceive Cecile's gaze as she comes in our direction. Cecile walked confidently and dismissed the girl with a mere wave of her hand before sitting beside me.
"It seems my sire was quick to snatch a young beauty as Gabriella," A drop of disapproval dripping from her tone.
"Snatch? But thou called her to my service," I replied, confused, staring at her.
Cecile chuckles, "No, I most certainly did not. Brothels don't work in that fashion, at least not the Graveller's. Workers choose who they serve, set their own prices, and establish their own rules. We offer protection, a roof, and a schedule—wonderful, is it not?"
Oh my. So Gabriella was trying to get under my skirt... maybe thats why she was nervous at first.
Cecile continues while I sip my drink with a thoughtful expression, "Here, my sire." She hands me a book, the scriptures, which I requested earlier on our ride. I opened it on the first page, and immediately, confusion punched me in the stomach.
Sacred Blood Scriptures. Written by Mercurio.
Mercurio died, didn't he? It's quite possible he managed to sneak out, but I find it unlikely. Leaving that aside, Mercurio was a fucking human! And knew nothing about me. Let me see... first chapter: Creation.
Before any human had ever been born, Carmilla, the first hematophagous, was already feeding upon the animals of the land.
Maudit... I was human once! These are lies upon lies! And I'm not that old, rude. Useless, and Mercurio most likely is dead now, seeing how old he already was at that time. However, among the information presented here, some has a kind of truth. For example, Marie's betrayal is a tad bit more specific, although not completely accurate.
I close the book, "I shall look into it further some other time." Upon hearing me, Cecile quickly rose and extended her hand to assist me, "Oh my sire, allow me the pleasure of supporting thee once again, now toward the room which I personally prepared," She spoke politely, with adoration.
After leaving my goblet empty, I once again rest my hand upon hers and feel her left arm wrapping around my waist. My gaze follows from our connected hands slowly to look up at her expression, only to find her giving me a side-down stare with a smile that screamed lewd thoughts. She quickly turns her head to the side upon perceiving my confused gaze.
"Forgive me, my sire. Being so close to my adored heroine-" She cuts herself and coughs to clear her throat politely before continuing, "Pardon, for my lack of control," She said now quite depressed. After that, we walked in silence along the huge mansion—she led me to a seemingly secluded area, to the back of the building. Then inside a room, which I must say, sickens me to see.
"Cecile..." I looked at her with utter disappointment while her shy gaze tried to escape mine. The whole room... completely filled with paintings of me, and I have never posed for any painting whatsoever, which means these are all made from the description given in the scriptures, and it's disturbingly accurate. By Lucifer himself... some are even lewd.
I sit on the bed slowly, shocked by my surroundings, my mouth slightly open in disbelief. The woman, ashamed, knelt at my feet and buried her face on my lap to hide her shame. "Forgive me, dearest sire! I only wanted to show my appreciation, show how much I adore thy greatness! Is it not to thy liking? Am I not to thy liking? I- I- I was rather old when transformed, thirty-four to be more specific. I'm not as young-looking as Gabriella or most other girls we have, but I dreamt for so long! My muse... finally in flesh, more beautiful than my imagination could ever create." She mumbled desperately quickly while her face was buried on my lap and her knees were on the ground. Wow... was she keeping herself at bay, waiting for when we were in private? Anyway, this... I'm speechless. From the start, she had a few loose screws, but it seems now to be several.
"Just... calm down," I said, still rather shocked as I laid my hand upon her head. Feeling my touch, the embarrassed Cecile turns her gaze up shyly, her red cheeks are made clear. "I dreamt of thine beauty, thy touch." Her stare was completely focused on mine as she mumbled with a dreamy tone, leaning into my touch more.
Her worship of me is... I struggle even to think of the term, but disturbingly arousing seems rather fitting. However, I, Carmilla, shan't succumb to debauchery; no woman of respect would give herself to a stranger whom I met but a few moments ago.
I slowly run my hand to her cheek, caressing her along the way. Cecile glances at my hand and back at my eyes before turning her head slightly to press her face against my palm—I feel her sniffing my palm like it's the most joyful of all scents.
I would never...
She begins to slowly run her tongue all over my hand, all while staring with adoration at my eyes. She crawls up, wrapping her right arm around my waist possessively, pressing her body against mine, her face an inch from my own.
Never... but tonight... I need warmth... I need to feel something other than my own thoughts.