![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanMy brain is broken, I think...
Anyway, here's today's Christmas story.
Title: Baby, It's Cold Outside
Fandom: Juliette is an original character for KoNY, a Sabbat LARP. She's on a yearlong break, as *cough* I'm thousands of miles away from the game, but meanwhile, she's wandering the streets of Québec.
As always, there was plenty of snow. She watched it fall in the glow of the street lights, an ironic smile touching her lips. When she was a child, she had adored the snow. Then she had to drive in it, and it had lost some of its appeal. But now…
There were several hours left before her meeting with Pierre. Despite his smooth talking, even Juliette could see what a mess the Lasombra in Québec had become. Politics were doing their job for the moment; the streets hadn’t erupted in a turf war yet, nor had the young started being sacrificed to their elders' power struggles. If the wind started blowing in that direction, self-preservation came first. She certainly wasn’t sacrificing herself for him, whatever his illusions to the contrary might have been.
The snow collected in her hair, on the coat she didn’t need. She wiped the snow from her cheeks, where it didn’t melt. It was beautiful, snow by moonlight. A group of children passed, herded by one adult dressed in a Victorian costume, loudly singing “Un Flambeux, Jeanette, Isabelle.” She watched them go, and for a moment, couldn’t help a pang of regret at what she had become. But there was no use crying over spilt milk, and Juliette was nothing if not practical.
The holiday season meant more people in the bars; half to celebrate, half to drink away their loneliness. Nothing like Christmas to underline the pain of not having family or friends to go home to. Juliette had been watching one particular young man for awhile. He drank heavily and alone on a regular basis; his fiancée had been killed and he didn’t seem to have any other family. He had nice brown eyes and was fond of whiskey.
She could hear a tacky rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” playing in the distance as he stumbled out of the bar, unseeing with drink and pain. She stepped up, and said in French “Easy there. Are you all right?” supporting him as he almost fell into her arms.
The man looked up at her blearily. “Sorry…’m just…a little drunk. ‘M okay.” He righted himself with a little effort. “Thanks. I’ll be…”
She smiled gently, not flashing any fang just yet. “Let me get you a coffee? It’s Christmas eve, after all…neither of us should spend it alone.” He hesitated and then nodded.
Later that evening, she sat in front of a flickering fire, watching the flames dancing. It was a foolhardy luxury, an open fire, but somehow perfect for the evening. She was pleasantly buzzed, and ran her fingers through man’s hair, resting in her lap. He was death-still, but the firelight gave him the illusion of movement. She allowed herself a small smile. Both of them had ended up alone for Christmas eve after all. Looking out the window, she noticed the snow was still falling. It would be a picture perfect Christmas morning. She could only imagine.
She said a quick prayer for the birth of Christ, and got rid of the body. It wouldn’t do to be late; clan business didn’t pause for Christmas. On the way there, she caught a snowflake on her tongue, and wasted just enough blood to melt it. She wondered what Erik would say had he seen her. Unobserved, she smiled, and her perfect fangs glinted in the lamplight.
Anyway, here's today's Christmas story.
Title: Baby, It's Cold Outside
Fandom: Juliette is an original character for KoNY, a Sabbat LARP. She's on a yearlong break, as *cough* I'm thousands of miles away from the game, but meanwhile, she's wandering the streets of Québec.
As always, there was plenty of snow. She watched it fall in the glow of the street lights, an ironic smile touching her lips. When she was a child, she had adored the snow. Then she had to drive in it, and it had lost some of its appeal. But now…
There were several hours left before her meeting with Pierre. Despite his smooth talking, even Juliette could see what a mess the Lasombra in Québec had become. Politics were doing their job for the moment; the streets hadn’t erupted in a turf war yet, nor had the young started being sacrificed to their elders' power struggles. If the wind started blowing in that direction, self-preservation came first. She certainly wasn’t sacrificing herself for him, whatever his illusions to the contrary might have been.
The snow collected in her hair, on the coat she didn’t need. She wiped the snow from her cheeks, where it didn’t melt. It was beautiful, snow by moonlight. A group of children passed, herded by one adult dressed in a Victorian costume, loudly singing “Un Flambeux, Jeanette, Isabelle.” She watched them go, and for a moment, couldn’t help a pang of regret at what she had become. But there was no use crying over spilt milk, and Juliette was nothing if not practical.
The holiday season meant more people in the bars; half to celebrate, half to drink away their loneliness. Nothing like Christmas to underline the pain of not having family or friends to go home to. Juliette had been watching one particular young man for awhile. He drank heavily and alone on a regular basis; his fiancée had been killed and he didn’t seem to have any other family. He had nice brown eyes and was fond of whiskey.
She could hear a tacky rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” playing in the distance as he stumbled out of the bar, unseeing with drink and pain. She stepped up, and said in French “Easy there. Are you all right?” supporting him as he almost fell into her arms.
The man looked up at her blearily. “Sorry…’m just…a little drunk. ‘M okay.” He righted himself with a little effort. “Thanks. I’ll be…”
She smiled gently, not flashing any fang just yet. “Let me get you a coffee? It’s Christmas eve, after all…neither of us should spend it alone.” He hesitated and then nodded.
Later that evening, she sat in front of a flickering fire, watching the flames dancing. It was a foolhardy luxury, an open fire, but somehow perfect for the evening. She was pleasantly buzzed, and ran her fingers through man’s hair, resting in her lap. He was death-still, but the firelight gave him the illusion of movement. She allowed herself a small smile. Both of them had ended up alone for Christmas eve after all. Looking out the window, she noticed the snow was still falling. It would be a picture perfect Christmas morning. She could only imagine.
She said a quick prayer for the birth of Christ, and got rid of the body. It wouldn’t do to be late; clan business didn’t pause for Christmas. On the way there, she caught a snowflake on her tongue, and wasted just enough blood to melt it. She wondered what Erik would say had he seen her. Unobserved, she smiled, and her perfect fangs glinted in the lamplight.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-12-05 09:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-05 11:10 am (UTC)