MericCotton
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Viktor stood behind the bar, tapping his fingers his face a mask of frustration. What is it? I can feel it, almost a presence, but … of what? “Viktor?” The manservant looked up into his master’s eyes. “I’m sorry, m’Lord. I was lost in thought. What can I do for your this fine evening?” “You can start by telling me what has you so troubled. Not an order, you understand, just a … concerned request from a friend.” Viktor pursed his lips. “There is not much to say, Lord Stefano. I si
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“Perfect.” Gerik lay back on his elbows, watching the waves. They were on a northern shore beach, half way to their next designation. They had unhitched the horse and started a gentle camp fire then a swim before feeding. Water droplets became glitter and diamonds on their skin under the bright moon. Only half showing, but away from city and town, still very bright. “Vargon brought me here once while we were waiting on the Keep’s construction. We spent nigh on a half-moon before we heade
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Stefano picked at the collar tips of his burgundy silk shirt.” This thing is stiff; it pokes at my neck. And the color. I do not wear colors this dark.” Gerik looked up from the chair where he sat, slouched with one leg over the arm of the chair.” Viktor says we dress for the prince leaving, not the prince beginning. And the color is fine. Yes, it is subdued, but this whole evening is to be subdued from what I can see.” He raked his eyes slowly over his lover’s form.” Besides, dressed in tha
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Fun read. I like the friendship between Nate and Greg - feels very natural.
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The storm whipped over the land, tossing waves against the jetty's cliff face as if Poseidon himself were trying to dismantle the island back into the sea. Further from the sliver of land, above the cove, Stefano opened the balcony doors to better see lightning chase raindrops to the ground. Tempest-tossed twigs and leaves from surrounding bushes and trees swirled in the wind performing their own intimate dance of chaos. Stefano watched the sea pummel the distant finger of land then turned his a
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You are most welcome Hopefully Part II continues with the same momentum and enjoyment... guess time will tell. I greatly appreciate your comments!
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Gerik descended the stairs slowly, his eyes looking around the great hall. Every time he entered he was awe struck by the splendor of it all. How it was possible he didn’t know, but he was certain it was more splendid than before the fire. He paused at the base of the steps and turned, fixing his gaze on the stunning portrait at the first landing. His sire, dressed in his usual tight black trousers and crimson peasant shirt, unlaced, of course. All over his dark-as-pitch riding boots. The painti
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not tease - it's called "cliff hanger", LOL!
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woh - GOOD catch - thanks!
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Gerik lay on the grass on his back, slowly rocking his head side to side. He groaned as his eyes fluttered open. Shadows swirled in his dark pupils and he strained to focus on the figure standing over him. “Am …. Am I dead?” “No, my chylde. You have walked a path through death, now to stand with the night and learn how to master your present and release your past.” "Will you help me learn?” “If you have something you wish to learn, I will do my best to give thorough instruction
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Thank you! I am enjoying this one, though sometimes (most times?) it's like the characters take over and write it for me - - I'm just sitting here watching. Definitely seems to have a life of its own.
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Stefano paced the floor in his private office. Shelves lined three of the walls, laden with books and original volumes, creating an effective sound buffer. A fine dust lay on most of the shelves – a good indication that Stefano rarely let anyone else in, including Viktor. His boots thudded against the wooden floor. If his pacing didn’t show the level of his frustration, the volume of his steps surely gave it away. He’s being unreasonable. I am perfectly capable of handling the relationship a
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“You did WHAT?” Stefano’s ebony eyes flashed as he glared at his sire and slammed his fists on piano keys. “What do you mean, you cancelled it because of ME? How dare you blame your indecision on me. I did not ask or even imply that I didn’t want you to marry.” He stood and stepped towards Vargon. Fury stormed within him as he swung his arm, hitting and breaking the piano lid support. The lid slammed closed, causing all the strings to vibrate in soft discord. A long shard of wood flew across the
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Flames flared as Stefano’s glass broke in the fireplace. His face was a contortion of confusion and rage, the crimson of the fire echoed in his eyes. “How could he decide to do such a thing? Take a wife? After so many generations alone suddenly he needs companionship? Am I nothing but a hindrance now – is this why he has planted me here?” He ran a hand through the waves of his hair slowly, pacing. “M’Lord, mayhaps if ye sat a moment… Let me fix you a fresh cognac.” “I do not wish to sit.
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Stefano walked up the path to the large gates outside the Falow estate. Three guardsmen on the inside looked up simultaneously; one stepped to the gate and looked directly into Stefano’s eyes. “Name and purpose.” It was not a request. The answer came in the same tone. “Stefano. I am expected.” “Yes, m’Lord. We were told of your visit. Please, there is a side gate here on the left. I shall open it for you. And welcome to Falow Grounds.” “Falow Grounds?” “Yes, m’Lord. That is
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Stefano stood at the rail of the balcony near the eastern end, listening to the waves crashing along the large granite outcroppings. His gaze dropped to the rough beach below. The walkable area was only a few hundred yards in length, and mostly small stones. It did not matter to the “Lord of the Keep” as Viktor at times would refer to him; he would still walk the course barefoot, wincing occasionally when he stepped on a larger stone. A stair at the balcony’s east end, carved into the rocks, wo
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“It is just so … huge,” Stefano remarked as his eyes tried to take in all the splendor around them. “As it should be, for a chylde of mine.” Vargon replied. He had surprised his son after a late feeding with a trip back to the island to tour the now-finished keep. It had taken almost seven months, but the scope of its beauty would make one expect it to have taken years. “This is now Haven,” he added, “and I trust you will keep it as splendid as it is today. If not more so.” Stefano nodde
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Vargon led Stefano along the stony cliffs, talking of history and peoples – all to Stefano’s wonder and appreciation. He waited patiently to ask questions until Vargon noticed the look in his eyes and paused. “Is there something you wish to ask?” Stefano smiled. “Yes, Sire. This place. It is beautiful, but what is it? Where are we? And more so – why are we here?" Vargon chuckled – the sound of distant thunder. “Why is it children always want to know what, where, and why? Will you become
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Stefano watched the man with casual indifference. The sound from the cobblestone street gave evidence to the man’s condition; uneven footfalls, shuffling, slow/fast pace of a man trying not to fall. Added to the fact the man had just left the Wretched Raven inn and pub, alcohol was certainly involved. Normally such a soul would be overlooked by the young vampire, but he had not fed for a fortnight and hunger somewhat clouded his motives. With the sound of a leaf in the wind, Stefano left his per
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The pale young man lay on the grass, almost motionless, as a groan escaped his lips. - - ~ - “Duck!” The taller youth fell flat on his face in the deep snow, the back of his head throbbing. He could hear the laughter of his best friend, though it sounded far off, almost as if he were in a cave. He slowly stood and turned around, mischief dancing in his dark eyes. “You should try warning someone before you throw”. Nikolos wiped his eyes with frozen gloves, still doubled over a
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Stefano is a young gypsy dealing with grief and loss when he meets the dark traveler, Vargon. Innocent and trusting, he confides his sorrow to the tall stranger who promises him relief and a future. He becomes one with the night, vampire - or kindred in the language of the undead, but finds that love is still attainable, still distracting, and still able to entice and enthrall his spirit. However, the strings of being human are not lost when one is turned, instead they often intensify, leaving our young friend lost within the dreams and wishes of the young.
