Darkened Hall

He paced the hall again, his steps silent. Any who knew him would have considered something amiss.. something off that he found the need to be so constantly in motion.. His usual stillness, the desire to remain silent and motionless in one place, replaced by the need to constantly walk.. simply to be doing -something-.

He had failed.. he had turned him, and the turning had failed somehow.. he had come back, as the one so many years past.. Wrong. How he had fed was not at issue.. it was uncouth.. disgusting to her, but she had not lived so long as he, and not seen the varied ways their kind chose to live.. the varied ways to feed.. the inherent violence in those interactions most of the kindred reveled in.. No, that in and of itself was not at issue.. that behavior could be curbed.. worked upon. As a child learning to eat with utensils.. But the other..

That he had resisted the compulsion.. that he had been able to defy it.. to ignore it.. to act in spite of it.. There was only one that had done such.. and he had turned on his Sire.. had tried to strike her down. He had put him down as the mad dog he had become.. He had thought it a symptom of a dozen things wrong at that turning.. but never had he considered that he had committed those same sins.. but he knew he had committed others.. enough of them to have put the process into question..

This was -his- failing.. he had failed, his blood had failed.. and now he had to intervene.. to do something to bring the threat under control.. before it drove them from this place again.. before he was forced to take again to the road.. turning from the first chance at a home and Family in better then a century..

His mind turned to Him again, his first feeling of pride.. of the knowledge that he would be a weapon absent precedent.. one who was inclined to the inherent violence necessary to live in the shadows.. A perfect guardian for their family.. a perfect weapon against any danger they might face.. He had never wished to use compulsion to force his childer to truly bend a knee.. he only used it to test that they were in fact properly formed.. a simple test. A test he had failed.. or passed depending on how one turned mind to it..

He had but one remaining hope.. that the flaw existed in his bastardization of preparing him for the turning.. that his bond yet existed.. simply not where he had hoped it may.. that She might be able to assert fleeting control.. if only long enough to convince him he had not failed.. that this was in fact merely a defiant newborn.. and not something wholly broken.. something that would have to be destroyed, for the best of the whole..

As he had mused it, he had finally.. after so many long years understood how completely she must have hated him, after he had put her firstborn down.. Wrong or right.. formed or flawed.. the idea of destroying what he had wrought turned his stomach.. He had wished him as his good right hand.. his second. He had reveled in the idea of his Son.. of the two of them standing against those who stood a danger to their family.. and now.. it was He who stood such..

His words slipped his lips softly in the darkness.. the old soft supplication.. ‘Find him Worthy Father.. and Let Him Rise..’

  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Reddit
  • Twitter
  • RSS

Comments are closed.