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a_sporking_ratJust a little story from back when Gaspard was still just a kid named Marion. In case you don't follow the My AB OCs posts, the characters are thus
Ruthven Strongmore - Vampire who can call swans and has enslaved all the Flocks in England. Lives in an old manor out on a vast moor.
Gaspard Glass - Androgynous swanmane who will grow up to lead rebellion against Ruthven; still a child in this story and thus still going by female pronouns and birth name of Marion to everyone else (though has picked out secret name of Gaspard for self) and hence is mostly referred to as she/her in the story because he hadn't started using alternating pronouns yet
Lucretia - Maker of Ruthven. Very old, very mysterious, very nice, very terrifying.
I wanted it to be a creepy little tale, though Lucretia, in typical AB vampire fashion, does not actually *do* anything in it. Unlike AB vampires though, it's actually my *aim* to give Lucretia a lot of buildup and eeriness and mystery and even occasional indications she might just be a harmless Morticia Addams ooky-but-sweet type before something actually *does* come of all the buildup. ideally that something would be awesome and horrifying and really really worth it, but I am not yet at the level I think I can pull that off. Still, I'm trying! In the meantime, enjoy her introduction =D
She came during winter, though never near Christmastime. Ruthven had never told them she was his maker, so none of them knew and could only speculate just what connection the two vampires had. Perhaps he had some reason to not have told them, or perhaps it is simply that he no reason to tell them, for Ruthven never let a spare word pass his lips. He only said something if it needed to be said, and then he would say it as shortly and clearly as possible. Well, usually. If he had good reason to speak like a sphinx, he could do it, and shockingly well for someone who so rarely did so, but for the most part, he was as practical and economical with his words as he was with everything else. Thus, if he had no particular reason to say she was his maker, it would not be said unless someone dared ask, and no one did.
In some ways, she scared them more than he did, for nothing is more frightening than the unknown. Ruthven, at least, they understood. The woman, Lucretia, she was still a mystery. They knew the rules that Ruthven had and what would earn what punishment. What Lucretia would respond to and how was not known, nor was it known how much Ruthven would let her do. He protected his swans from all other supernaturals save the Council, yes, but it was suspected by some, given that Lucretia had liberty to visit here, that she might be a Council representative, as no other vampire had that privilege who wasn’t in the employ of Ruthven.
They just knew that she came, and she was frightening, and they loved her, especially the children, especially the little girls. This was why the children, in particular the girls, were told to stay away from her.
“But would she hurt us?” asked Marion, who, at twelve was already going by her secret name of Gaspard, known only to her cousin Carlisle, but not yet embraced her future practice of alternating pronouns; it would be a long time before she accepted himself that much.
“She’s a vampire,” said her mother, as if that answered that, which it did.
“She’s never hurt anyone yet though,” her father admitted. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t. She is a vampire. Stay away, as much away as you do from Lord Ruthven.”
All the other young swanmanes were told similar, and thus they all, like Gaspard, wanted to get a look at Lucretia at the very least
It was Gaspard that managed it. She’d crept up from behind, peeking out around a corner, and to this day she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid as to really believe she could do this without the monster knowing. The monster, who knew better, turned around with elegant slowness and a shining smile.
“Hullo,” she said in a clear, gentle voice. “Do not be afraid. You can come out.”
Gaspard did, trembling, and looked upon what stood before her. It wasn’t human. Oh, it had the general shape and the right number of limbs and eyes and such, but it wasn’t, and not just in the way that most vampires were not. There was something different about this one. It was shaped like a woman, but very, very tall, and very, very thin, as if she had been made of clay and then stretched out, elongating her entire form. She had great blue eyes, huge, and long, long blonde hair that fanned out behind her as she turned with a life of its own, and she was clad in a simple black dress that covered everything but her hands and her very lovely face. Unspeakably lovely. Lovely, peaceful, not just in the way it looked but in the way it made Gaspard feel. Yet at the same time her fear mounted into terror, and her knees knocked not just with it, but with the desire to kneel, which she succumbed to, practically toppling down on the floor as the monster smiled so sweetly down at her.
Ruthven had made her afraid before. Ruthven had made her obedient before. But Ruthven had never made her love him, and that was what this woman, this monster, was doing, and it was the scariest thing that had ever happened to Gaspard.
Ruthven Strongmore - Vampire who can call swans and has enslaved all the Flocks in England. Lives in an old manor out on a vast moor.
Gaspard Glass - Androgynous swanmane who will grow up to lead rebellion against Ruthven; still a child in this story and thus still going by female pronouns and birth name of Marion to everyone else (though has picked out secret name of Gaspard for self) and hence is mostly referred to as she/her in the story because he hadn't started using alternating pronouns yet
Lucretia - Maker of Ruthven. Very old, very mysterious, very nice, very terrifying.
I wanted it to be a creepy little tale, though Lucretia, in typical AB vampire fashion, does not actually *do* anything in it. Unlike AB vampires though, it's actually my *aim* to give Lucretia a lot of buildup and eeriness and mystery and even occasional indications she might just be a harmless Morticia Addams ooky-but-sweet type before something actually *does* come of all the buildup. ideally that something would be awesome and horrifying and really really worth it, but I am not yet at the level I think I can pull that off. Still, I'm trying! In the meantime, enjoy her introduction =D
She came during winter, though never near Christmastime. Ruthven had never told them she was his maker, so none of them knew and could only speculate just what connection the two vampires had. Perhaps he had some reason to not have told them, or perhaps it is simply that he no reason to tell them, for Ruthven never let a spare word pass his lips. He only said something if it needed to be said, and then he would say it as shortly and clearly as possible. Well, usually. If he had good reason to speak like a sphinx, he could do it, and shockingly well for someone who so rarely did so, but for the most part, he was as practical and economical with his words as he was with everything else. Thus, if he had no particular reason to say she was his maker, it would not be said unless someone dared ask, and no one did.
In some ways, she scared them more than he did, for nothing is more frightening than the unknown. Ruthven, at least, they understood. The woman, Lucretia, she was still a mystery. They knew the rules that Ruthven had and what would earn what punishment. What Lucretia would respond to and how was not known, nor was it known how much Ruthven would let her do. He protected his swans from all other supernaturals save the Council, yes, but it was suspected by some, given that Lucretia had liberty to visit here, that she might be a Council representative, as no other vampire had that privilege who wasn’t in the employ of Ruthven.
They just knew that she came, and she was frightening, and they loved her, especially the children, especially the little girls. This was why the children, in particular the girls, were told to stay away from her.
“But would she hurt us?” asked Marion, who, at twelve was already going by her secret name of Gaspard, known only to her cousin Carlisle, but not yet embraced her future practice of alternating pronouns; it would be a long time before she accepted himself that much.
“She’s a vampire,” said her mother, as if that answered that, which it did.
“She’s never hurt anyone yet though,” her father admitted. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t. She is a vampire. Stay away, as much away as you do from Lord Ruthven.”
All the other young swanmanes were told similar, and thus they all, like Gaspard, wanted to get a look at Lucretia at the very least
It was Gaspard that managed it. She’d crept up from behind, peeking out around a corner, and to this day she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid as to really believe she could do this without the monster knowing. The monster, who knew better, turned around with elegant slowness and a shining smile.
“Hullo,” she said in a clear, gentle voice. “Do not be afraid. You can come out.”
Gaspard did, trembling, and looked upon what stood before her. It wasn’t human. Oh, it had the general shape and the right number of limbs and eyes and such, but it wasn’t, and not just in the way that most vampires were not. There was something different about this one. It was shaped like a woman, but very, very tall, and very, very thin, as if she had been made of clay and then stretched out, elongating her entire form. She had great blue eyes, huge, and long, long blonde hair that fanned out behind her as she turned with a life of its own, and she was clad in a simple black dress that covered everything but her hands and her very lovely face. Unspeakably lovely. Lovely, peaceful, not just in the way it looked but in the way it made Gaspard feel. Yet at the same time her fear mounted into terror, and her knees knocked not just with it, but with the desire to kneel, which she succumbed to, practically toppling down on the floor as the monster smiled so sweetly down at her.
Ruthven had made her afraid before. Ruthven had made her obedient before. But Ruthven had never made her love him, and that was what this woman, this monster, was doing, and it was the scariest thing that had ever happened to Gaspard.
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Date: 2013-10-03 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
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