Blood.
It courses through the veins of all animals. Pumping just beneath the surface
of the skin, it sustains life.
So strong. So rich. So abundant.
Vessels carefully constructed of muscle and tissue carry their precious cargo
around the creature, filling it with what it needs to survive. It is all.
Flowing. Pulsing. Roaring.
Blood is the giver of life. No animal can survive without it. It is the means
by which the weak are made strong, the infirm are made well, and the dead are
given life.
Surging. Fluxing. Coursing.
But the container for this invaluable fluid is all too fragile. A cut here, a
slash there, and the vessels spill their cherished load easily. And it pours
forth in torrents.
Streaming. Spurting. Spouting.
The essence of life flows from her mortal body and into my eager mouth. I sip
shallowly, not wanting the experience over before I have a chance to make my
offering. Her pulse becomes thready and weak with loss and fear.
Beating. Thumping. Throbbing
Blood ties are the strongest. They are an unbreakable links that withstand
separation, time and death. They are a part of the ancestors, present in the
descendants and will carry through to the offspring. They are all.
Binding. Encircling. Unyielding.
I stop drinking and hold out my gift to them. My ties to the Old Ones. My
blood.
Darla. Angelus. Drusilla.
"Well done, boy."
"Aye, 'tis good, lad."
"You've made Mummy so proud."
They accept my gift and surround me, filled with praise and pride. Their
blood calls to me, sings to me, and mine answers in kind. We are bound by our
blood, and its loss would mean our undoing. From the blood of the Sire is the
Childe raised. It sings the same tune, weeps at the same, rejoices at the same.
Calling. Raging. Commanding.
It is all. We are merely vessels, slaves to its desires and whims. We are not
the masters. We serve only one true master, and that is blood, whether it be in
the form of kin or sustenance.
Enthralling. Seductive. Absolute.
Blood.
{fin}
