𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋

She laid herself against his frozen neck, her arm snapping as she let out her very first breath into the world. To think that she would be born in a place of despair brought her a sense of numbness within. She drew out her fangs, the scent of blood hovering through the air.

You slowly cracked open your eyes, finding your body encased in a coffin of snow. The skies were shrouded in thick layers of the white abyss, its light barely peeking through its cracks. You attempted to move your fingers, trying to feel for some kind of warmth. From underneath the blanket of ashen, you found yourself too weak to dig yourself out. You couldn't feel anything but the cold surface that rested on top of you. The weight of the soil and snow becoming nearly impossible to escape from. You had been used to hearing the sounds of carriages drawn over your body. You had also been used to the cries of people who had fallen before you. The sounds of war echoed throughout the now empty field.

How long has it been since you gained consciousness? You asked yourself, struggling to bring yourself out from your grave. Your throat was beginning to feel parched but you couldn't raise your hand to touch your neck, your fingers barely had enough strength to feel around the small crevice you were buried underneath. You were starting to fear that freedom was far from your sights. How many years has it been since you've fallen asleep? You weren't entirely sure. Your memories felt hazy and it felt like thousands of years had gone by. You were beginning to wonder what sort of trouble had brought you here, to be buried underneath the ground.

Before you could drift off into your own self-consciousness, the sound of rustling leaves and footsteps alerted you to someone. You could hear the cold wings flap against the front of their clothes, their sneezes and sniffles echoing as they crawled towards your resting spot. Their gloved hands began to wipe away at the snow, revealing portions of your frozen body. You weakly grasped at the warm feeling of their gloves, the tips of your nails dragging themselves across the material as you attempted communication.

"So this is where you were," A young man's voice called out, the edges of his lips curving into a bright smile as he uncovered more of your body. He caved through the snow with only his gloved hands, the point of his nose becoming red as he ignored the freezing weather. "After thousands of years, I thought you were just some legend."

He wiped away the glistening snow on your (s/c) skin, revealing your doll-like body. Your (e/c) eyes glanced up at him, watching his every move like a waiting hawk as he continued to buy his hands through the snow. His earrings dangled from his ears, the tips glowing red from the cold. You could hear him utter curses and complaints about the bitterly cold weather, but without much resistance, he continued to dig. You could smell the fresh scent of a human lingering on the tips of your nose, sending shivers down your spine as you breathed out a cloud of air. Once he had enough space to pull your body out of the snow, he brought you into a sitting position on his lap, your legs placed on either side of him. You leaned your weak body against him as he examined your prosthetic arm, toying with the material until he unlocked a hatch at the base of your elbow. He pulled out a cracked material, his bright blue eyes scanning it thoroughly before placing it back into the hidden compartment.

"Your astermite is damaged," he says, his fingers roaming through the edges and crooks of your prosthetic arm. "We can get it replaced in Paris in a few days. I'll get a mechanic to fix the rest of your arm since it's in bad shape." Your eyes slowly fluttered shut, feeling the warmth of his coat surround your freezing body. You leaned further into the crook of his neck, trying to keep a piece of his warmth for yourself. His eyes trialed across the surface of your (s/c) skin, squeezing it as he let out a small, amused hum.

His eyes darkened as he brought his hand to caress your face until he forcefully parted your lips, revealing your fangs that threatened to pierce through the material of his gloves. He glided his finger against the tips of your fangs, allowing them to puncture the top section of his finger. You thought that he tasted sweet, almost as sweet as sugar. His smile raised itself to be cheeky. "Do you want more?" He taunted, wiping away at the small fickle of snow that rested on the tops of your eyelashes. He could tell through the windows of your eyes the passion that was hidden beneath it all, the impediment and wrath that you bottled up inside. You craved nothing more than retribution. You wanted reprisal. From the small ounce of blood given to you, your once weak hand gripped at the outer layers of his cheek, bringing him close to your face as you let out a softer breath.

"Do you want. . . a taste of my blood?" He whispered, leaving the world out to freeze as he shared a moment of warmth with you. You chose not to respond to him, opening your mouth to reveal your glossy tongue. He let out a small hum, allowing you to drink from him. Instead of biting the crooks of his neck as he expected, you moved forward to connect your lips with his. He squirmed as he felt your cold tongue break through his barrier, coaxing his muscle out. He nervously gripped your arms, listening to the clicking of your prosthetic. You tilted his head to the side lightly, sinking your fangs into his tongue. His hand reached to touch yours, squeezing it softly as you drained him of his blood.

You pressed yourself further against him, your strength finally coming back to you as you pushed him into the snowy ground. You left no room for God to interfere. Your separate hand gripped at his shoulder, your lips parting themselves as he let out heavy breaths. His cheeks had formed an apple-red tint, the tips of his ears sharing the same fierce color as he smiled in amusement. You leaned forward to lick at the remaining blood that dribbled from his lips, your eyes watching as he playfully opened his mouth, revealing your Mark of Possession that had branded his tongue.

"Were you that needy? Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, you can drink as much as you like," he comments, listening to the sounds of your heavy breaths that tickled the fronts of his lips. The taste of his blood was still dangling in front of you, coating the outer layers of your tongue and so close to you that you fear for his life. You held onto his shoulder as your body trembled. "I can't have you drinking from me without something in return though," his gloved hands reached to caress your (h/c) hair, bringing your head close to him.

"If you want more of my blood then you must swear an oath to me." He said, kissing the edges of your ears as you quivered. "You belong to me and only me. You will listen to my orders and follow my word. Don't forget. . ." He felt your fangs graze the surface of his neck, his lips curving into a devilish grin, "who you belong to."

You dug your fangs deep into him, accepting his pledge as you linked yourself to him.

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