The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Memoirs of a Forgotten

Entry 9

Of secrets and false gods, part one.





So much has happened Journal, I know not where to begin my narrative of it. It almost is as if walking through the mirror and turning back only to see you had just simply turned around. I am ... How to put this... Almost right back to where I started but, I get ahead of myself.



When last I wrote I spoke of the ball. The grande charade of pomp and ridicule, fancy and peversion, that my bile rose to my throat and threatened to overspill onto the elegant crimson rug that lead its way to the emperor's throne. I was to be presented that night. Yet truly, how could I be presented when I was strung up like a grosse marinette made to sing and dance to my Sire and his Queen's wishes? I shake my head, for it is foolish, how can the emperor know whom he commands if they are not allowed to speak their mind or show their worth outside of what is dictated of them. I realize that perhaps in speaking my mind I am also showing the breadth of my foolish natalship but... I would rather be burned than my tongue silenced. Sadly... still though bold words speak volumes on this page, in practice I still.... have yet to give proper voice aloud to them.



Perhaps I am a hippocrite in the truest form of the word.



I was lead forward on my chain leash like some gulley slave. And, so barely able to breathe was I that ... Yes yes I know dear journal breath I need not, but still it is the expression I wish to use to describe the blasted confining dress I was forced to wear. I could not breathe if i wished too. I could not move save for small tip toed steps in the confines of that blasted wire underskirt. I felt like a peacock half caged from the waist down and forced to walk like a duck... or better yet a turkey, still alive and dressed in some puritain garb for the dinner table. It did not occur to me truly at the time that ... well to put it bluntly that if I did not succeed in pleasing the Emporer I would end up as fuel for the fountains below. I am ... almost glad that image did not bore itself into my mind. Not exactly the best image to have running through your head, I must admit, then again... I should not have been so....



Bold.



I was first in the line of those to be presented that night. I could hear the other younglings behind me chittering and speaking with their sire's, free of chains, free of anything that would bind them should they chose to run from this... circus of insanity. I could hear their sires retort back to them that my condition is what happens to those fledglings who speak against their sires, who speak against what is and always will be. They laugh at me behind my back as I am forced to look forward by the tug of the chain. I could not help but curl my lip... and for that yet again nearly forward was I thrown by that damnable tug.



The Emperor's throne stood as the testament to all the pomp and finery around him. Two beauties pale, the shade of china, dressed in the finest black silk attended to him at his sides. A servant, who to me blazed brighter than all the gems in the crowd brought forth to him his goblet of crimson. His eyes vibrant green, drilled over the crowd with the gaze of a skilled vulture waiting for just one of his guests to slip up. His eyes fell upon me as from my lips came a startled cry when I was pushed forward. His hand tapped its fingers upon the arm rest as if impatient. His head shifted on his large neck, shifted on the body of a bronzed god, thick with the muscles of a warrior. "You dare look into my eyes? Knowing I could kill you with a simple snap of my fingers young one?"



I was ready to die, if death indeed came for me so I gave voice to my thoughts. "Yes."



My sire scolded me, pulled the chain hard. Making me in the wire cage fall forward, my dress in all its levels of cloth splaying out behind me. My sire growled at me. "Yes, my Emperor."



As I was lifting my head I saw the servant cast her eyes quickly at the spectacle my presenting was making. Her eyes were the colour of the clearest lake, sparkling with diamonds below. Her skin darker than any ebony that I had ever laid eyes upon. My mind latched forward for her, desiring to know all about her, forgetting for a moment the bronze god that glowered at me with an amused smirk to his lips. Another tug of the chain forced me to my side. I had had enough of this. Trainings be damned, Queen be damned, finery and pomp be damned. I reached down to my wire cage and focused to rip it from me. I stood up just as the chain tugged trying to keep me down. Before that damnable Emperor I stood in my hosery and looked in his eyes, saying with contempt. "Yes, my emperor."



The servant looked at me and for a moment cast her mind out at me. I felt it... Felt her power... Something was wrong here... No servant should have power and age such as she, below such a fool of an Emperor... Something was wrong... I did not like it one bit. I felt decieved.



My sire was less than pleased but since I had given in to the correction of address, he went on to make his. The Emperor's lip curled at my lack of dress that he did not hear my sire. I looked to my sire and attempted to tell him of what I felt of this.... court. Tried to tell my sire something was not right here and to hold off making himself a fool before a false god. My sire growled at me. The Emperor's hearing much like his eyes belonged to the realm of the birds and before I knew it twin blades of the guard were at my throat and I was starring down the gullet of his bared fangs.

The guard's swords pierced at my throat, but still I held fast my gaze, unshaking, unquivering towards those bared glistening daggers. The bronzed man rose from his throne and stepped towards me. His cloak like the plumage of a royal peacock flared out behind him on the carpet. The servant seemed to dance behind him. Her body twisting and moving to the sound of music only she could hear, in my sidevision. I stood confused, tilting my head slightly, my eyes leaving the bronzed god to focus again on her.



Another gem that I had noticed in the crowd, a male, his face hidden behind a mask moved closer and seemingly in response to the servant's dancing, began waving his arms and moving himself. I blinked as slowly the movements begain to paint words into my mind. Began to open up the corners of my perception to something I had forgotten.



Does she comprehend what she is doing, m'lady? The man's body moved and swayed, masked in the music played some distance from the throne.



It is too early to ascertain that. The servant's hands and hips responded. She knows much but is... too bold. I do not know if I should stay my pet from killing her.



My hand moved of its own accord snaking forward in an entricate wave before pulling towards me and touching my chest. I knew not then what I spoke back to them but I watched the dance until my head was jerked forward and the Bronzed one burrowed into my eyes. "Look at me when I speak to you childe." He growled and hissed at me. "You will bow before your Emperor." He wrenched my head forward as the guards moved their blades to point at my back. My sire pulled desperately at the chain at my neck trying to get me to kneel. The chain snapped as I stood tall.



"I will not bow before a falsehood." Were my fatal words from my lips. The swords reached and gouged into my back, cutting deep slits into my flesh. I refused to fall. The servant tilted her head to the side of my vision, watching... waiting. I could feel her power washing over me trying to find out about me. I opened my mind to her and let her search as I stared at the emperor. "You are not who you say you are. This pomp... this finery are below a true emperor." The court licked their lips behind me at the scent of my blood and the words I spoke. They all stood like vultures waiting... waiting for my corpse to fall upon the carpet.



He hissed and flared his hand to back hand me before looking to the guards and giving a slight nod. "Kill her."



I refused still to fall. The swords raised. My sire turned his gaze from me, closing his eyes and looking away. If I had not known him better I would almost think he was ashamed, but knowing him he was only embarrassed at the humiliation his childe had brought upon him. The guard's blades raised to chop me down, I raised my head and waited eyes open and unflinching for the blades to fall.



The last moment the male gem from behind me moved to grab me from the swings. He held me swiftly in his arms, protectively and spoke aloud to the Emperor. "Great lord, she has proven that she has the capacity to remember the old tongues and is unashamed to stand even to the death for what she remembers. Pray, let her live." I paused and blinking looked up at my rescuer. I recognized that voice, I recognized those arms around me. Even behind his mask he could not hide from me. He did not look down to me but held me fast, close to him as he had on the dancefloor. I remembered him.... I remembered I nearly killed him on that dancefloor. I looked away as he continued. "I will take her under my charge" He looked to my sire a moment. "If it is permitted to save her life." He looked back to the Emperor. "Great lord I have not asked anything of you, but this I ask please grant me this." I blinked a moment when I realized that his head turned above my own was not pointed at the Bronzed one, but the servant behind the man, dispite for appearances seeming to address the bronzed one.



The bronzed god made a grand show of rolling his eyes and flaring his cloak, turning his back to us. Though I did not see him, I am sure that he turned his eyes briefly to the servant as he passed her and he begun to sit on the throne. His eyes looked from myself to the man who held me, to my sire. His body becoming still as stone as he seemed to contemplate my fate. He closed his eyes slowly and hid a small smirk behind a massive hand. "After the shame she has brought to her sire, you ... you who have never taken a childe for yourself, want this raving lunatic as your charge?"



The man holding me nodded slowly against my hair. I burrowed myself at his chest, strangely more comforted by him than ever I remember being.



"And you, who brought this shameful disgrace of a childe into being and lead her like a wild thing seeming to present her to me as if some circus freak. What say you of his wish?" His hawk eyes move to my sire. His hand still across his mouth.



My sire bows his body deeply. "My Emperor. It was not my intention to dishonour myself, or her by bringing her forth to you. It was not my intention to offend your lordship." He remains bowed, poised like a statue. "If his guardianship of my childe will remove the stain of this night from her and my own slate, then I will agree to his guardianship of her, provided that I am kept informed and if I wish I may reclaim her."



"Interesting." the bronzed one smirks, removing his hand and gazing at the three of us. "Is this agreed by you, young one?"



I was startled to realize he was speaking to me but I looked up at him, then shifted my gaze to the servant. "If I am to die, I will die only to return again and repeat this motion. If I am allowed to speak, then I agree to this devils bargain."



The bronzed one laughed and looks to the Gem behind me. "You have your hands full. Take her away from my sight and bother me no further. However..." His eyes narrowed. "You and I will have words at lenght."



I was then taken from the Gem by the guards and thrown into the cell of a room I had before. I now wait and pass the time by scribing in you my dear journal. I sit... and I wait wanting my gem's arms around me once more.

Memoirs of a Forgotten.

Entry#8 Forsaken



Vile.... Loathsome... Filth! How dare they desecrate their beings with anything below the perfection of their knowledge cycles! How dare they pervert, distort and lift their faces to see only their polluted whims! They are like children! Giving into the basic, giving into those aspects that "mommy and daddy" told them not to in their mundane years and now... now that they are free of those shackles and time is but a play thing, they dip and dive wholly into their whims of fancy! This... This vile, polluted lack of reasoning knows no age! At the festivities even those reeking of age loosed themselves upon the writhing squirming masses as were they newly made!



The cross, the cross of it all is that these ... these CHILDREN!... believe me to be the child; me who has lived countless lives in my memories am but a child to them because I do not partake!.... The fools.





The fools believe I know not what it means to be basic, what it means to have eternity at my beck and call.... The fools believe I am but a weak, mewing child at my mother's teat for I do not parade myself upon their stage as a worse being than they believe themselves capable of.... The fools forsake time as the ability to progress, to adapt and change the only thing that can for us...our minds and instead they take seat on the roller coaster of time with their buckles unfastened; unknowing that should the coaster make an unscheduled jump along the tracks that they will be thrust through the sky, to kiss the clouds and smile for the last time before they make love to the quickly rising ground. Unknowing are these Fools, that no one who has lived one cycle will give a damn as they seep through the cracked concrete like poorly processed jam. The harsh truth, no one gives a damn unless it affects them, may bring harm to them or is somehow perversely entertaining...If you are of no use, you are as good as that pasty bodily jam on a piece of toast and nothing more than a vile excrement to be flushed. Thou art nothing... nothing to the world of reason, of logical discourse and of advancements.... nothing... but a fool.



But... Are we not all fools in some regard.



I sigh for reading the above I realize that in my seeking to mock and be outraged by their stubborn determination to be nothing more than the basic's of our nature... to be nothing more than that being that lacks mental capacity enough to see, to understand and to dare comprehend the world...In my seeking to mock them, I indeed also mock myself, for am I too not stubborn over what I believe to be the capacity of us Forgottens? Am I too not seen as a vile fool, an ... an idle-brained twit and a lunatic verging, if not already succumbed to madness? Am I too, not seen as lacking the foresight into our very natures, plural and seen to not embrace the possibility of the other's theories of capacity? I sigh for I know it to be true...that the same contempt I hold for those who as I see it, will not open their minds to the advancements I know...also hold that contempt for me and see me as not embracing this world my cycles have once again thrust me into.





The bulk of them do not believe my true Lord's theories about there being an old soul available to us. Some hold still dearly to the absurd notion we do not have souls to begin with so as they can be relieved of any guilt of conscience when they indulge in childish fancy's and whims. They do not realize that even this... even this shows us to be of human stock. The perversity that is human nature is but ours to endure for it encompasses our being. We no sooner lose our humanity, our capacity of the perversion of, the mayhem of and the chaos of being from human ancestry than we lose our ability to exist at all. We are not a rival to man, we are the image of man personified and expanded until there is only the metal from the core of being human. A core that is grey, a grey that does not cast fully upon the dyes of the monochrome doctrines they hold... but a grey of potential of both. This grey means that there is no reflection for us for we are the reflection of them, we are the keepers of the keys to what they could be both good and ill. We are them, frozen in time, the reflection only changing in the mind! In the Mind, damnit! We are a reflection that only changes in the mind of the ones looking into our mirror. We are humans twenty times folded and then folded again until we are so twisted in on ourselves that the capacity of human nature to do ill,... the part of them that fancies, however briefly the killing of their brothers... is compounded into the sentience of our predatory nature; the call for blood, the thirst... the darkness that seems to accompany it both in thought and in the taking...is no more than the darker half of compounded humanity.





For that statement alone, dear journal, I would be burned...



But... let them burn me, let them find out for themselves then that we Forgotten are no more monstrous or angelic than what humans themselves would be if only humans had power such as ours.... I pity the day the world becomes sensitive, when the entirety of the world becomes able to mimic us as the Vampiric do, for it will mean a possible end to the thin line that holds back man's hand from the trigger against their brother. Already, even now and throughout history paranoia has reigned with war as a result. I shake my head in this pompous room my sire has placed me. I shake my head for if the world were to become fully sensitive to the feelings of another, to the history of another, to the futures of another and able to reach into another's mind not only for impressions but of true clear thought...the world would not survive the fallout of such a marvellous and beneficial, yet horrendous disaster. Man needs to believe it is unique, that it is The Original creation in the universe were it to unquestionably find out otherwise, find out that they are the same as any other man at the basic core, the glass chalice of Man's sanity shall be irrevocably broken and paranoia shall be the norm.



That has transferred to us Forgotten. Our numbers are small not because of necessity, though that does play a part but, moreover, it is due to our twenty fold nature quadrupling our paranoia and fears in our human base. After all, in life we did not trust our brothers, let alone ourselves, why then would it be any different when you add into the mix power that not even science can explain



...It seems dear Journal I have lapsed once again into a philosophy that the being my soul will be in the next cycle may not fully comprehend... I will cease now and speak of the party.





It is quite a ... pageant affair. Almost everyone of the Forgotten I saw there was attempting to "out do" or "out perform" the other in tricks of the body that for the moment, only those of our ilk can attempt. As I mentioned before, there is a mass of exhibitionists engaged in the various positions of false love available to our kind, in a corner of the bottom most floor of the mansion courtroom. Above that is another tier that over looks the display of perversion. Upon this second tier there are minstrels, musicians of our kind who dedicate their cycles to all knowledge of music they may obtain. In some respects I admire their dedication to knowledge... yet it is a pity they are so... particular about their studies. It is on this second tier that the pompous peacocks reign... it is here that they dance and give false pleasantries where their minds seethe to either further their stations, status or indeed further their plans to do away with a rival further on down the road. It is here that back handed deals are made despite the crowd and the music, it is here that their paranoia vilely covered bubbles beneath the surface of their marble faces and threatens to spill over. On the third tier is the throne, majestic in its finery and adornments but just as pompous in its obvious over display of power and wealth that the stuffed hens and cocks on the second tier engage in. The advantage of this vilely impious perch is that with a simple glance, the Emperor can oversee all below. Bah! All children absorbed in their toys... I had but a slim daring hope that the Emperor at the very least would be above such... such... overindulgences, yet it would seem by this first night of festivities... I am wrong.



It seems that my Sire has been given tomorrow's night to present me to the Emperor for introduction and, apparently his failure to do so shall mean both of our deaths. Such a lovely world this is, is it not? I sigh for I was forced to be dressed up as a peacock and was forced to do as the Queen’s assistants in means of decorum and peasantry had taught to me. I would sooner rip off one of their arms and force feed it down the next Forgotten's throat that speaks to my Sire about me in front of me without talking to me and! And! On top of that insult, calling me a child! I admit that picturing their writhing tortured bodies upon a stake is not the most appropriate image to have come to one's mind when meeting someone who can in a blink of an eye, kill you... but damnit this is getting ridiculous, especially the charmed chain that is cuffed around my wrist.



They do not believe I would willingly behave at this party and believe that I, the convicted felon of a being a break in doctrine, will do something rash... like say attempt to murder the Emperor for allowing the Council to send the Rival to kill my True Lord. If the chain alone does not prove that paranoia despite my Sire's readily acknowledgement that I am not idiotic enough to dare try kill the Emperor in front of an army of kin, I do not know what does.



I look up upon the chamber walls that I have been temporarily celled in and wonder when I will be free. The festivities last three nights but even that amount of time seems too long and I feel the pain of missing my cell below the club. I miss the music...I apologize dear Journal for I nearly threw you against the concrete walls... it is just my frustration at the complexities of this world and their... redundant rituals. How could those of my previous cycles stand going through the process of recognition when they knew... knew so much more... So much more than those that changed them...How did they not go mad? . . .



I sigh again at this Journal for the question still remains.... When will I be free? I fear that just as I can feel the sun rising above the barely lit chamber, that there is not enough nights in even the longest of cycles to break the bonds I am so surely shackled too...or should I just give up and forsake my determination to show them the truth of us. . .



Goodday dear Journal, we shall see if I survive the meeting of the Emperor.

Memoirs of a Forgotten

Entry 7: Taming of the Loon.



Do forgive me again, dear Journal. I have been away many days on traveling with my Sire and by leave of the Queen and council. It seems they have fashioned themselves to making of me a proper lady, since they have tried and failed to make of me a vile and loathsome monster. It is humourous that they try because they think me much a fool but nonetheless, due to the light being given less and less chance of interfering with my... 'studies'... in the cell they kept me in....They had taken to occupying my time completely as to not give me chance again to scribe myself on your pages. I believe I succeeded in keeping your existence a secret, lest as before you would be threatened by the flames of a fireplace hearth and all my memories already haunting you, be exorcized violently.



I have grown quite fond of this past time and seek not yet to see either you or myself end at their hands and hung cruelly by what I have already written.



My tutelage i must say, was brutal. Disobedience was met swiftly with a rod upon my back or my hands. Since I am what I am such things are a trifle to heal but it is the memory of that pain that conditions the body to obey and retreat before the next blow. I led them to believe they had broken my spirit with the rod, where my time in isolation and seclusion from my kind failed. I played myself as their puppet in the lessons of poise and grace, never 'taking it to heart' as the saying goes. I did however know the value of subterfuge and therefore fixed myself as a reluctant if not eager pupil of their... 'pleasantries' and skills of 'double speak.' Once the rod was put away, of course.



I was taught all manner of decorum and curtsey. Many of their customs differed from that of my true lord, yet, ever in the quest for knowledge I obeyed. Here was a world that unless you had business with another Forgotten, you did not approach them, did not speak to them unless they made acknowledgement to you firstly or you had prior dealings that gave you rites of acquaintance to speak plainly with them. Yet my true lord's world had taught me that to not give acknowledgement to another Forgotten, whether it was a nod or some other gesture or words, were akin to not showing respect for them and would give licence for that Forgotten to approach you without neutrality. Such a contradiction, but I tried my best to remember that I was no longer with my true lord. I was on my own.



Well truly, I was not 'on my own' my sire and the others were there as well to see too it I was taught properly. It would seem that there was to be a function where it was ordered that I attend. Having never been to 'parties' while human and only to the briefest of gatherings of the Vampiric House... I must say I am quite.... Apprehensive as to how I will be received. I know they call me lunatic, I know of the stories of my true lord. I know that due to his teaching of me and the means by which I came to this life, I know the snickers of contempt the other Forgotten speak of behind my back. It is funny, that even though I am of the Forgotten, some still see me as the abomination the Council sought to do away with.



I know this is a test. I know that my performances on this grand stage of intricate dances, elegant speeches and model poises shall all be measured and weighed as to whether or not I shall continue another day. My true lord's teachings and my abilities will not be silenced by the decree if levelled against me.



I shall endeavour to not disappoint and play my role in the theatre.



Be safe dear Journal for you hold the memories of me and I shall not be Forgotten.

Memoirs of a Forgotten



Entry 6

False Pedestals and Passions.





Often I think upon the sun the way a normal, a mundane would think about the fabled three or four am. They know it exists, many have even experienced it once upon a time, but it is the prolonged exposure to that time that is detrimental to their health and makes them unwilling to be conscious at that hour... If they can help it of course. Simply put, many would rather turn over in their early graves than willingly open up their eyes and see three or four am for themselves. Much is it the same with myself with the sun. Oh I could willingly see the sun if I wished but though they call me lunatic, I am not THAT insane.





I realize it has been long since I have scribbled upon your pages. I ask pardon. The recoils of memory threw me into such a fit I scarcely could raise my head, let alone lift a writing tool. Forgiv............





I laugh at you Journal for who are you that I should beg pardon of you? You are nothing more than a scrap of paper in a leather bound coil that is drenched in the misery of me. Who am I that I should so drowned you with these tales and then ask forgiveness for not forcing the poisons down your throat at a quicker pace? I shall write at my leisure when the flow that is time slows its drill upon my brain and what brittle frailty that is the semblance of my sanity coils itself again into being.





Perhaps I am the fool, perhaps I am the lunatic those of my kind call me....Perhaps.... I am still far too young in this cycle and I have yet to grow cold, sterile and be the savage predator, the willing murderous and easily manipulated tool that I know my Sire wishes me to be. He wishes to mold me, shape me to his own devices. I know too much of myself, too much of what we are capable of to become the brutal fledgling he desires of me. I am beyond that and my eyes in my dreams have shown me countless cycles where once yes, I had thrown myself into the most basic of our nature. Where I had let my thirst consume me, drive me. Where I had let myself follow the lead of countless others only to perish and start from scratch when their blades pierced my gorged flesh and my daggered teeth bit deep into their throats. I can no more go back to being those men and women of my day sleep that lived only on instinct than I can forget the images of the betrayals etched in my soul. I cannot de-evolve the knowledge of the previous cycles, I am forced to move beyond them with whatever it is I am to grasp of this ...of this turn of the wheel.





Essentially, to use a phrase I have heard often in the club, ' been there, done that, bought a tee-shirt and now its time to move onto the mall.' It is not that I am incapable of being primitive and instinctual, but that I have moved beyond it having already lived it without going through it myself.





Yes I know dear Journal that makes little sense, but when you have the capacity to close your eyes and see whole villages burning.... Cities cast in the red crimson of fire and blood with imposing mountains looming the shadow of death over the valleys.... And find your mouth watering; your eyes feral and the thirst so overwhelming you near lose control upon waking....You too will learn the wisdom that is controlling that beast, that predator before it can consume you with its hunger.





I sigh, remembering that in that fit that ceased my writings briefly upon your page I had nearly killed the man I scribed earlier here about. The one who seems not to know he is unlike the other mundanes and who somehow can block even me. Perhaps he is but a guise, with his dark chestnut long hair and his crisp amber eyes that petrify emotions and secrets that not even I, can derive from him.......





Yet that is nonsense, I would have sensed him would I have not? If he was one of my kind? I would know if that pale tanned flesh held the chill of my kind as he held me close as we danced upon the dance floor.... ... Wouldn't I?





Bah no. He is human, I heard his heart. I felt it beat across my chest as we moved in rhythmic sway to the rise and cresting energies of the crowd around us. He is human... No one of my kind would dare defy the Queen and the council... Unless.... Unless he was older in cycles and knew more tricks to disguise himself... Unless he was older in cycles and belonged to a realm not of the council... Not of the Queen... ... unless





If he is one of my kind, I cannot fathom him being a normal Forgotten... To pull off ... Tricks... Such as those... He must also then be an old soul... A host like me with knowledge that takes lifetimes to learn... Perhaps... Perhaps he is of the kind that I am more akin to than these dogmatic-trapped-in-the-past-fools that despise me for being able to walk among the vampiric humans freely. That despise me for being more human than perhaps I should still be.





No. If he is not human then I have been played the fool in letting him get as close as he has. I am not a fool.... Maybe a swooning Lady, dazzled by a pretty face.... A strong back... A full longing gaze....



A... ...but not a fool.





In my fit, my emotions wild, letting myself loose in the void of the music his eyes played at me. Begged me, called me to lose that last bit of control I had and drag his secrets from him with my fangs. Use tricks upon him and betray myself to not only him but all the vampiric's in the room when they would feel my energy spike and my full self come to the fore.





My eyes were wild at his neck... my breath ragged... my skin growing with that same crimson fire my Sire's had had before he loosed himself upon me. If this man was not like me at that moment....then at that moment I was willing to sire and make him mine. Crowded club, vampiric's and mundanes be damned...He would be mine.





A few of my vampiric friends looked up at the faint taste of my crimson energy rising steadily and flooding the room... I felt their presences sweep across the crowd, it jolted me lucid and quickly I reeled myself in and made myself the same as the others in the crowd. I continued to dance with the man as if nothing had happened, though out of the corner of my eye I saw the true sensitives of my friends rise up slowly and walk amongst the crowd.





The levels of sensitivity vary greatly among the vampiric but with each generation the minimum raises up a notch and the maximum increases. There were two medium range sensitives in my group and only one slightly above them. They are the perfect bloodhounds if used correctly and many before awakening to themselves and realizing they are of a slightly different breed than the mundanes, often track unknowingly and knowingly my kind.





The three stalked the crowd for me, not knowing it was me they were drawn too. They walked towards me. I was the fourth member of the sensitives, the core, of the group. Their eyes scanned the crowd for the source of the spike. The eldest of them tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear asking if I had felt the overflow. I nodded that I had and whispered I would follow shortly. Quickly I wrapped up my dance with the man who's being defied me and kissed him teasingly before we parted ways and I followed the three through the crowd.





As I left I saw the man's lips pull back slightly in a small barely noticeable smirk.





I spent the rest of the night tracking myself through the crowd and leading the House elder and the core by the nose. A House being a group of vampiric individuals attempting to understand themselves and guide others in their understandings. Being what I am, I am the most sensitive to the flows and ebbs of energy than any of them. However, to secure a spot that would grant me the most protection and the least suspicion in the Houses I joined, I had passed myself off as a young one with a lack of control over my sensitivity and essentially as the little sister everyone could go to if they needed a shoulder or a friendly ear. Those two things combined with my lack of wanting advancement in the House secured me a place of trust in the inner circle. I would laugh silently some times when they thought they used me in their civil wars, after all, though the 'naive, untrained, innocent and young ' one's rare intuitions proved eerily close to true events... She nonetheless was only a young one they could mold, exploit and not feel threatened by for she was always neutral and could be counted on to be the middleman between arguing members. Oh how I laugh if they realized what this "young one" was capable of.





But then...If they knew what I was....If they knew... Would they kill me? Would they seek to harm me as I know there are groups out there who wish it? Would my protecting these...friends...from others like me count in my favour or would they see it as holding them back from the knowledge that they seek to understand themselves with?........Sometimes I regret betraying that trust by not telling them, showing them... Teaching them what they only grasped at and touched at lightly by being what they are. If only I could trust that they would not fall into human nature that is to destroy what they do not understand. Or worse..........Revere me, covent me.... Hold me up on false pedestals for being what I am.... I am nothing. I am nothing than a creature the world has forgotten and only barely glimmers at in legends and myths....



I am nothing, yet I have no wish to die...........Or to be Forgotten, like the noonday sun.

Memoirs of a forgotten

Entry 5

The Betrayal of the willing.



I am tired Journal. Tired of being lied too, tired of being locked in this cage of solitude simply because I am what I am. I could seek out the comfort of others of my kind, but they have been instructed to not converse with the lunatic; the lunatic that speaks of the value of human life in the grand scheme of things to come. The lunatic who hides not among true humans where it is easier, but who hides with those mortals who have gifts not even they fully understand. If these humans looked hard enough with their curses they would be able to detect her easily in their crowds. I laugh at their title for me for it is not the fear of what I know nor, what I am capable of by conversing with these mortals that has them frightened of me. No. They are not even afraid of what abilities I may still learn. They fear their own necks and the banishment of solitude that I am forced to live. Aside from a sire who teases and mocks me and his Queen when she relays the councils wishes.... I am alone.



I often find the Queen's relaying of the council's wishes hilarious. I understand these bindings on me are put on me because she wishes to maintain good relations with the council, but it seems beyond humour that within her domain she actually enforces them. Then again ... I am allowed to play with the mortals and am not completely cast in the iron maiden and thankfully at least I am not dead.



Though true death at times does... Have its appealing qualities.



I sigh when I think of starting my lifecycle over again... I cannot stand to think of going through all this again from scratch. Maybe I am a coward but when I think of the mortal I would be who would have to remember all that I am and all the pain that is contained in these dark and dreary walls of my soul. It is in my pity and my mercy for that being and that being alone... That I do not fall into the pit of anguish and willingly impale myself on its spikes.



Time flows differently when you have forever at your beck and call. A week flies by in a blink of an eye; a month is as quick as your last mortal breath and a year, a single year, is so short that you can scarcely believe it has been more than a day gone by. Things that advanced the days forward as a mortal seem now to be placed in the short term memory, easily forgotten and taken for granted. I sigh at this because unfortunately unlike many of my kind, I do not forget the passage of days or their content. I remember and recall every breath of air that my immortal lungs need not take but do to appear human. I remember each blink of my eyes, each taste on my tongue, every forced beat of my heart after feeding and each slight shiver on a human's skin from my touch. I remember all vividly but most of all I remember who I am, who I was, and what I am.



Yes I know dear Journal I do not describe everything in my vast details but that is on purpose. The mortal that I will become in my soul's next cycle I doubt will be able to handle my memories and you, my friend are merely a guide to help them deal with the fact I was a real person and not just a figment of a disturbed mind.



I sigh and sometimes slip into my memories, finding brief reprieve from life in them but always finding my mind's eye resting again upon my true lord. I miss him. My recollections always fall back on my mortal funeral and my final betrayal of my third parent. I sigh and transcribe only half of what I remember upon your page, Journal. Think of this remembering as a peace offering for threatening you with the fires of my hearth.

---------------



The question of what to wear at my funeral, for truly this was my funeral if nothing else, haunted the front of my mind almost side-by-side with the pain of betraying my mortal life. I knew as I mounted that platform of the villa that I was going to my death, yet willingly did I step upon that alter. I knew I did not have to return to my employer, I knew that in that one last sunrise and set he had allowed me I could have run. But, I knew that despite his promise of allowing my return to the town, he would follow and almost assuredly take me by force or kill me. I simply knew too much to be left alive or unbound, yet with all my knowledge of his kind I could not decide upon what to wear to a proper siring! If there is such a thing, that is.



Perhaps, and I toss this notion out to be completely dismissed, I am more a slave to my gender than I'll admit. I tried everything on in the small wardrobe I had amassed in the town based on the woman of madness's tastes in clothes. I squeezed into clothes I had outgrown and lamented over the pounds I had gained since I had last worn the item. Clothes strewn across the floor, I had stood in front of a full-length mirror, twisting and turning my body in an attempt at finding the right fitting gown. Yes, that is correct a gown; for the first and last time of my mortal life I had decided upon a black formal gown for my funeral. Since I was going to be a willing participant, I figured I should make an effort at being presentable.



----------

I gag at that notion now knowing what I know and being what I am but, at the time it was a fancy that kept my mind off my third parent and so I had clung to it with a passion that I should have held for my mortal coil.

---------



Shivering slightly I mounted the steps of the villa and took in the scene. Firelight from two tall torches illuminated the pair of red velvet throne chairs and rows of pews giving it all a royal air. The flames licked at the marble columns that rose above the chairs and there in the center was my employer a hand on either chair, leaning upon them regally. His black long hair, cropped at the ears fell upon his temple and into his eyes as his midnight embroidered cape fluttered slightly in the wind. His body remained as still as if made of the same roman stone that cobbled the walkway I had stood upon. His lips broke the statue with a slow calculating smile. Lifting his head his eyes burned with warning as if telling me I should have run when I had the chance and had only a second too do so if I changed my mind. His grin grew wider and his eyes stilled their warning, instead now they held only coldness, my second was up. "Welcome, to the end and the beginning."



His words combined with the warning in his gaze unnerved me, bringing back the torment of my decision. My turmoil rose behind my own glazed eyes but I held my head high and walked as if I were at peace with my decision. Unwilling to show him he had gotten to me and I was at anything but peace, I bowed my head slowly and gravely when I came to the foot of the thrones. "Take a knee young one." His voice above me sent my heart fluttering with fear, for it would be the last sound my mortal ears would hear. Reverently I drew up my hem and bent my knee upon the chill marble. "Today is your last day as a mortal being, your last chance of refusal is now, for once I am done there is no return and you will be forever a Vampire. Do you still accept?"



I can smell his eagerness to bite into me, to savour the taste of the blood that had been denied to him. The musk was as rank upon him as if he were had completed a lovers session and his presence at my side, though I know no heat radiated from it, seemed to burn with a steady crimson fire. He seemed more human and more monstrous in that moment than I had known him to be during our acquaintance. I believe even now that had I not spoke, he would not have waited for my reply a second longer. "So long as I do not have to call you master and you live up to your promise of teaching me about the rival then yes. I am.... ready." I was determined to not let him have the full upper hand and defiantly reminded him of his part of this bargain. I raised my head and looked him in the eyes, my turmoil burning so heavily behind them that a small chuckle of madness escaped my lips.



Surprisingly he joined me in this laughter and grinning that stony cold grin in pleasure continued to fan my hate and fear. " No young one, that title is not meant for me." My eyes flared, and I had to bite my lip and look away before my quick tongue could snap at him about who then would be my master. " I will keep my bargain, and I will teach you to kill him." Somehow even then I felt the catch but it only made me angrier at being put in this situation. "Rest your mind, this wont take long"



I could not help but glare at him through my hair covering my face. My hand reached behind me of its own accord, as if to grab onto the sword that normally would be strapped firmly between my shoulder blades. He mocked me at the same time he desired my blood and my inner turmoil over my decision made me in that instant want to kill him instead of go through with it. I was on my knees, weaponless and in a confining dress. I was in no condition to fight.



His lip slowly pulled back in a cool smile as if knowing of my thoughts and delighting in them; he knew I could do nothing even if I tried. "You may rise young one, and I will feed from your flesh".



-------------------

Even now I still hate that nickname and he calls me it to point out how easily I was deceived. He says it to me to spur my anger, force my hand to kill him. I could easily kill him. He makes sure I know all the vulnerabilities of his resting chambers all the times and places of his affairs and gives to me all manner of opportunity to end his existence. Yet, though I should kill him for his part in my family's death and the murder of my true lord, I see the pain and anguish that is his very existence and find myself not granting him the mercy of true death but condemning him to the hell that is living.

------------------



I rose slowly and deliberately, making each movement a calculated action. I focused my eyes inwards and concentrated on the cloud my true lord taught me. I wanted to feel the pain of my betrayal; I wanted to feel the sorrow in my heart unwind in time with my mortal coil. I wanted to feel my death and the finality of breaking my true lord's wish of not avenging him. I sighed and looked my would-be Sire in the eyes. His gaze was cruel and full of recognizable hunger, yet. Sorrow danced in time with the beat of the thirst in his mind.



How dare he feel sorrow; how dare he feel any pain in comparison to what I was feeling. I felt keenly the absence of my sword and balled my fists as if to strike him. How dare he put me in this situation! How dare he give me a choice when I had no real choice! My rage flared and violent fires of anger licked from my glare upon his features. His lips pulled back in another smile. A smile that mimicked a sneer, but he was enjoying the accomplishment far too much for it to not have turned slightly upwards in amusement.



I parted my long rear length hair to one side; coiling it around my fingers and wishing it were in my braid so I could strangle him. I could not help but smile slightly as I remembered how foolish I was, for he did not breathe; yet my anger still rose and my smile turned dark and sneering. My anger at the betrayal, anger at this situation and at this choice made my blood boil with fury. At the height of the rage behind my eyes his being flickered with movement and I felt the savage tearing at my throat.



His pale stone arms clutched at me, gripping me tightly to his lips. He took pleasure in the shaking and weakening of my body and the flashes of pain that sent my frame jolting and quaking in his hands. He made no effort to disguise the brutality of his actions. He wanted me to relish every moment of my betrayal, take pleasure in every sip of life draining from me. He lingered and supped from me slowly so that he could bring to the front of my mind the death stroke of my true lord. My sire played for me that night in crystal clarity as he ravaged my veins. The blood lustful glare of the rival pierced my soul again as the rival threw back his head from my lord's neck and laughed. I recounted the flush of his cheeks, the rosy hues of his flesh and the dark stains of the rival's lips from my master's blood. It was only then in that image that I cried out against my sire.



My sire drew from me every rage and every extreme emotion from me as I withered in his arms. He supped deeper when rage overtook my senses and I struggled weakly against him. Drawing from me the heights of my emotion, he shivered a quick moment and held himself still against me. When I felt the insistent tug of the reaper's hand my sire released me and thrust me upon the floor. His frame stood regally over me, his skin alive and vibrant with my heart's blood. He looked every bit the arrogant, self-assured noblemen that he had claimed he was.



I watched his lips through fluttering weak eyelids twist into an evil malevolent grin. "Now, child, bite from me and drink of my blood, eat of my flesh, and walk with me in immortality" With every coil still left of my life and every breath my lungs still took I wanted to scream at him. I hated him. The pain and the images drove my soul to wish for death, yet my body and my being, in my hatred for him and the rival, crawled upon the ground and clutched at my sire's cloak like a newborn babe. My sire gave me no ground and merely stood there arrogant in his victory. He did not extend his wrist to me; I had to take it by what little force, what little strength he had left me with. He did not slice me a wound to which to drink from; I had to clutch tightly his wrist and bite deeply of his flesh until my blunt human teeth punctured and his crimson flowed down my throat. I drank heartily, eagerly, appalled at my hunger.



He forced the image of the night again to me as I drank from him. He forced my eyes to look through his eyes over the crowd and see my frame pinned against the wall. The rival and my lord encircled each other like birds of prey, steel talons of swords flashing and biting deep into the others undead flesh; attempting to rend their opponent limb from limb. I felt my sire size up my lord and then his employer, judging which would be the victor and which when the blood settled could be overtaken easily. He judged my lord the better of the two men but my sire made no movement to interfere. Though my sire was a master as well, there was an unspoken code that even his villainous lot followed. The battle of masters was a one on one affair, a formal challenge that no others should interfere.



From his throat came a cackle so chilling it seemed it was not his blood that signaled the stopping of my heart but, that sound from his lips that had. My eyes flew open wide and I released my grip upon him before the memory could finish. He was there! He was in the attack that ended my life! I fell from him, my body twitching and shaking in the throw of seizures as my knees buckled and I looked him in the eye, knowing then his true betrayal.



I knew of blackness, darkness so deep and chilling my bones would have turned to ice. I saw faces I never known but were familiar to me as looking in a mirror would be. Some shook their heads, others pale and as deathly as my sire mouthed the words



"Welcome back."



------------------

Perhaps, Journal I will tell you more, remember more to stain the flesh of your pages but for now I must retreat to my cold dark chambers. Too much drifting into memory will drive me to become the very thing the council accuses me of being..... A Lunatic.

Memoirs of a forgotten

Entry 4

Of Shields and Promises.



He was there again Journal, this being that mocks me with a shield not even I can puncture without his guard being lax.

He never lets down his guard though! Its infuriating that out of all of that crowd this... This man... This living breathing man...Appears two-dimensional to me.

I cannot grasp upon his emotions! Only the faces and tones he uses in speech. I know not the next movements of his hands whether they will be balled in anger or open in friendship! If I was not what I am, this would not only infuriate me with curiosity but also make me step back with wonder and a tad bit of fear; have humans truly evolved that much already that they rival us? Nonsense!

The most infuriating part is he seems not to realize he's doing it. He knows nothing of the vampiric, nothing about vampires save for the legends. Good gracious! He even had to have a shield explained to him. I laughed as one of my vampiric friends sat him down and said since he felt familiar she'd answer his questions and explain that shields are the mental barriers one puts around one's mind to protect it from others. It was plainly obvious to all though that she just wanted to get into his pants as the saying goes.



I never truly understood that saying though I understand the second meaning. I understand sharing clothes and the sexual connotations of the phrase but being in another's pants while they are wearing them seems ridiculous to me...



She was the sort of vampiric who drew their energy in the throws of passion when the energy would be at its richest and the tender sensuality gives over a robust and fulfilling feed. Not at all an unpleasant way to sate the ache and thirst, but... It's been over done and the minute you say the words vampire or vampiric to one who is unknowing, images of the sex-idols the modern age has portrayed comes to their minds. I shake my head at this because for all the bellyaching about throwing off the stigmas that myth and legend have placed on them and by association me, some of them waltz right into the stereotype's confines and willingly run their tins upon the bars.



To his credit he didn't fall for it and simply addressing her with a small smirk launched into a philosophical debate with her over whether or not the barrier. He even used air quotations. Whether or not the barrier was two ways, on one hand being something someone puts up themselves to protect themselves and on the other being the person poking their nose in believing a multitude of various things about the person they're taking from. Like, he reasoned, say that the taker believing they were more powerful of mind than the other, the barrier would seem resistant but easy to give way. Where as the taker believing that they were weaker of mind, or that they subconsciously shouldn't know about the victim, would find it extremely difficult or neigh impossible to do so.



For someone who had to get the concept of shields explained to him, he sure was able to grasp quite a bit very quickly and twist it against her. It made me wonder.... Going on his interpretation, if there was something subconsciously that was making even me, a vampire; have difficulties reaching into his mind.



I laugh at this and remember the arts I learned from my true Lord. I could block myself from the gaze of his kind while I was mortal simply because he had taught me to believe with my whole being that their gaze held no power over me. If my belief faltered even for a brief second, I was enthralled to their will. Could this human have learned that simple truth without realizing truly he had? Or was he just born cold, his emotions and thoughts giving off no heat unless he willed them too.



This mortal intrigues me and I resolve to watch him within the confines of my sentence. The council did not so much as sentence me, but made it clear I was not to leave the city or the country without their knowledge and my reasons stated else wise I will be killed... Since I don't want to lead them to this mortal I'll stay within their boundary of me. I do not want them to kill him for his knowledge without truly knowing, simply because had made my acquaintance and my curiosity gives him value to them of being something they could exploit against me. No... I will keep my own council, save for here of my eagerness to know what is behind that shield.



It thrills me to no end that even changed the council or their varied associates seem to fear me or think me a threat. I laugh in the dark chambers of my room as the sun creeps over head. I chuckle at their incapacity to see what I know and what my true lord taught me, with their own eyes and essence. I roar with mirth believing them to be stuck in their evolution, confined as I am to our bodies; the capabilities of that body in life, immortalized, frozen in evolution and becoming all that one is capable of in a Vampire's life.



With a smile, a purpose and a plan for tomorrow, I will rest your weary pages Journal and lay down my pen.

Memoirs of a forgotten

Entry 3





You seem to taunt me now Journal. Your yellowed and flamed licked pages call to me to be written upon with such frenzy that I feel as if my words, my ink were the energy of life and the blood your vampirism calls for. I feel as if a victim to your call to transcribe my life; a victim to your drawing of my emotions, of my memories from dark brooding places in my soul that I once strived to place behind me. No longer will I hide. I will sate your blood thirst and feed you gently, harshly, lovingly the ink of my memories flesh until you are bloated with the bile and tender toxins of my story.



Perhaps... Even at my age, I am still a slave to my emotions and linger too long upon you... But... What does it matter? Though the council has me under wraps.... for the moment.... and time is my play thing; all I truly have is time to linger and feed you. I sate your hunger for I cannot leave my prison; the walls of my seclusion are too thick for even my claws. Dare me to say it that was my loneliness a true prison I would be claustrophobic and writhing in madness upon the floor like the council wishes me to do.



They want to discredit me, cast me off as mad... An insane fool, like my true lord but I will not have it! I am not he, I am not my true lord's murderer nor am I this second Lord, who mocks me and taunts me with his words; attempting to call me into anger and rage, attempting to draw from me the youth of life he saw flicker in my eyes. My sire will not again feel the vibrancy of my need for revenge, nor feel that it is he who is shaping my anger into a tool to use as he will in his own schemes against the murderer. I will not have it! I am not a tool! I am not bound truly to this lord's service and will not have him, or have the council dictate my actions!



I will not be thrust into seclusion for wishing to be heard! He may threaten, the council may even threaten, with their tendrils stretching even this far into my sire's Queen's domain, to again kill all those I hold dear but I will not be silenced and ignored for the wrongs that were committed upon me! I did not ask while mortal to remember my old soul. I did not ask to be born with abilities no true human has and be called vampiric because of them! I did not ask to be taught; did not ask to be shown so much of the forgotten history through my dreams. I did not ask the rival to come down upon my home and slaughter my sanity in the death stroke of my true Lord's life. Nor truly did I ask to be changed, it was thrust upon me and I was manipulated so skillfully as to accept it willingly. I WAS DECIEVED!



Thus, I surround myself with those who call themselves vampiric. Against the council's orders and to my sire's distain. These people are my cloak, my dagger and my salvation. The vampiric abilities so akin to mine give me the haven from the insanity of the forgotten races allowing me to hide among their number to confuse those of my kind wishing to do me harm. These people's still living breath and being, give me an edge of being underestimated as a weak human sycophant like my true Lord was thought to be. I learned from my Lord's death and though I hold them dearly, these people of the next age, I would slice down upon my rival's throat before looking up to hear their cry. Let my kind think me a fool for fostering and aiding these children of the next age. I do not care any longer. Let the council take me, kill me and thus validate all I had claimed in court of their wrong doing; all my kind who have ears to hear and eyes will see then the condition and situation I am in now and know the truth amongst the council's lies.



I look to the stone walls of my chamber, dry and cracked with age. I open my ears and hear the pounding of the music several feet above me. I can feel the rhythm of these children's steps upon the dance floor. Sometimes, I join them and feed from the energy of their writhing bodies. Feed from the vapors of the sensual crowd, sharing the swoop of my hunger with many and not lingering my touch very long on any one soul.



It was convenience that I fed this way for it staved off the thirst and the messy questions to the authorities should I find myself gorged and the true human fallen. It was not often that I would lose myself, my mortal years had prepared me for that lust and thus I am dutiful in my acquiring, selective in my selection and careful beyond reason those to whom I would draw their blood.



I will not feed upon the vampiric. My draw is too powerful and their systems too delicate to truly recover should I fully feed upon them. It is only in my swoops do I taste of them, bitter but richly full of the energy not only of themselves but others. There are however, those of their number who upon seeing me as a friend, attempt to force feed me when they see I am melancholy and depressed. Their energy flows over me causing me to smile at how willingly these humans born to the vampiric treat me as kin. They extend me the curtsies of their own, knowing not that I am more than just their ilk. They are the family my heart longs for. I hate decieving them.



I need to dance, Journal. I need to call the rhythm to move my soul and sway my hips, I need the companionship of those so like me but without my curse thus I will leave you to your devices and retreat to the floors above.