Annas and Maria [Floating World]
Dec. 30th, 2007 05:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freosanI shall probably never again invent a new twist on anything. Ah well. Enjoy the vampirism.
“Don’t be an idiot. You can’t go out here at night.”
Annas sighs and closes the curtain, looking back at Maria as the shaft of moonlight disappears. “I’ll be all right. I’m not so marked that anyone will notice…”
“It’s not even that. This town gets dangerous after darkup, especially…” she stops; it’s hard for her to say it, even after Annas has told her so many times that,
“It’s Darks, Maria. You may as well learn to use the word. And of course it’s that; what else would it be?” Annas leans against the windowframe, pushing back into the curtains.
It’s dark in here except for the dying fire and the two candles on the mantel; though the moon is bright, the curtains are velvet and the room is done in ebony and dark brick.
In the daylight, it’s a rundown place, full of cobwebs and termite holes and the scuff marks and dirt of age. In the dark, it suits Maria immensely.
“I just can’t see how you can say that about yourself. I mean, you’re less dark, I guess, now, than you were before you were…” Annas can guess that she’s twisting her fingers, a common nervous habit of hers.
“Turned, Maria. And no, I’m not, really. I can’t see you right now, you know that?” Maria’s gasp is distressing, and Annas knows how she feels. It had been a struggle to admit that about herself, and she has the stubbed toes and skinned knees to prove it.
“You can’t see in the dark?” Maria asks, and Annas nods – Maria can still see her, at least.
“But I tried yesterday – I can see in the daytime. It didn’t even hurt, that much,” she says, remembering the feeling of sun on her face. She’d never felt that much warmth, or seen that much light all at once, before, and it’d been absolutely terrifying, but, well…
“You went out in the sun?” Maria’s appalled tone is what Annas had expected, but it still stings, just a bit. It’s all but blasphemy to talk about daywalking.
“Yeah. It, you know, it wasn’t all that bad.” She pushes further into the curtains, letting them cover her more completely. The thick velvet – the only thing in this part of the house that’s new, because true blackout curtains are a necessary part of life – was comfortable this time last week. Now it feels suffocating, which is a new and unpleasant experience.
Maria’s crossed the room in less than the time it takes to blink and is running her hands over Annas’s arms and face. “Are you sure you’re not injured? No burns?” Maria’s father died from sun exposure, so Annas isn’t surprised that she’s worried, but she doesn’t need to worry about that. Not anymore.
“I’m all right. That, at least, heals fast. But it leaves my skin darker – I guess that’s where we got the name,” she says.
Maria’s hands are cold on hers, which she’s never noticed before, and Maria is most likely just as shocked by how warm Annas is. Her hands, almost of their own accord, move to Annas’s wrists, then her throat, and finally come to rest over her heart.
“It’s beating. You have a heartbeat. But that means you’re not…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, so Annas does it for her.
“Not dead. I know. I’m alive now. Like bait. That’s what Darks are – bait that used to be vampire. That’s what I am.” It’s the first time she’s actually said it, and it’s not quite the release she’d hoped it would be.
Annas has always been stronger than Maria, but now her friend has her wrists in what feels like an unbreakable grip. “Annas, you shouldn’t have come here,” she says, her voice lower and closer than Annas had hoped.
“Just because I’m alive doesn’t mean you have to eat me,” she says, and hopes to high heaven she’s telling the truth.
Maria shakes her head and steps back. “You’re absolutely right, of course. I’m sorry. It’s just so weird. Who else knows?”
“Just you and my parents,” Annas says. “I’m going to have to leave – I can’t stay on this rock. There’s too many of us – of you – and not enough bait for me to stay alive.”
“So if you die again, you stay that way? Blood won’t bring you back?”
Annas shakes her head, her thumb pressing into the brand-new pulse point on her wrist. “Nope. I have to make the stuff myself now, I gather. So if that process stops, so do I.”
“And there’s no way to turn you back.”
“None whatsoever. Darksblood is powerful stuff.” She’s done so much research, but there really is no way to turn a Dark back into what she was before.
“Where are you going to go?” Maria is farther away now, probably sitting on the couch, trying to get away from the smell of Annas’s blood.
Annas shrugs. “I thought maybe Yigeron? There’s enough people in and out of there that I won’t be too stand-out, at least.” She would’ve been a week ago, because the children of the Dragon all have beauty and grace beyond any other people – and she is noticing that so much more these days, with her clumsy living reflexes and her useless eyes – but now she’s boring by anyone’s standards, and if she can stop tripping over herself she won’t attract any attention.
“Yigeron’s tropical, isn’t it? You’ll be… oh, I guess you won’t. Sorry.”
Yeah, she’ll be better off away from here. “I’m going now. I promise not to get eaten on the way to the dock,” she says. She wants to be there before darkdown so she can get on the first ship leaving. She just wanted to say goodbye before she left.
“All right, then,” Maria says, slowly. “Goodbye, then. I guess.”
“Yeah, that’s it. ‘Bye. I’ll come back to visit sometime,” she says. She’s lying. She turns the doorknob and takes a step into the street; Maria moves to the door without apparently covering the intervening space.
“I’ll hold you to that. At least write me a letter. Not in blood.” That’s always been kind of an in-joke ever since Annas wrote with her dinner instead of drinking it when she was about twelve.
“Not even someone else’s?” she asks lightly. Maria’s laugh is a touch strained.
“I thought Darks had rules about that,” she says. Annas deliberates.
“Bait does, but I don’t think Darks do,” she says. “We’re a bit off, you see. Think we used to be dragon-children.” Her fangs haven’t changed, and the grin she gives is all the more worrying for coming from an otherwise normal face. “Maybe I’ll send you a nice Mainland boy. I hear they’re delicious down there.”
The laugh this time is genuine, and Annas pulls her cloak around her and sets off.
“Don’t be an idiot. You can’t go out here at night.”
Annas sighs and closes the curtain, looking back at Maria as the shaft of moonlight disappears. “I’ll be all right. I’m not so marked that anyone will notice…”
“It’s not even that. This town gets dangerous after darkup, especially…” she stops; it’s hard for her to say it, even after Annas has told her so many times that,
“It’s Darks, Maria. You may as well learn to use the word. And of course it’s that; what else would it be?” Annas leans against the windowframe, pushing back into the curtains.
It’s dark in here except for the dying fire and the two candles on the mantel; though the moon is bright, the curtains are velvet and the room is done in ebony and dark brick.
In the daylight, it’s a rundown place, full of cobwebs and termite holes and the scuff marks and dirt of age. In the dark, it suits Maria immensely.
“I just can’t see how you can say that about yourself. I mean, you’re less dark, I guess, now, than you were before you were…” Annas can guess that she’s twisting her fingers, a common nervous habit of hers.
“Turned, Maria. And no, I’m not, really. I can’t see you right now, you know that?” Maria’s gasp is distressing, and Annas knows how she feels. It had been a struggle to admit that about herself, and she has the stubbed toes and skinned knees to prove it.
“You can’t see in the dark?” Maria asks, and Annas nods – Maria can still see her, at least.
“But I tried yesterday – I can see in the daytime. It didn’t even hurt, that much,” she says, remembering the feeling of sun on her face. She’d never felt that much warmth, or seen that much light all at once, before, and it’d been absolutely terrifying, but, well…
“You went out in the sun?” Maria’s appalled tone is what Annas had expected, but it still stings, just a bit. It’s all but blasphemy to talk about daywalking.
“Yeah. It, you know, it wasn’t all that bad.” She pushes further into the curtains, letting them cover her more completely. The thick velvet – the only thing in this part of the house that’s new, because true blackout curtains are a necessary part of life – was comfortable this time last week. Now it feels suffocating, which is a new and unpleasant experience.
Maria’s crossed the room in less than the time it takes to blink and is running her hands over Annas’s arms and face. “Are you sure you’re not injured? No burns?” Maria’s father died from sun exposure, so Annas isn’t surprised that she’s worried, but she doesn’t need to worry about that. Not anymore.
“I’m all right. That, at least, heals fast. But it leaves my skin darker – I guess that’s where we got the name,” she says.
Maria’s hands are cold on hers, which she’s never noticed before, and Maria is most likely just as shocked by how warm Annas is. Her hands, almost of their own accord, move to Annas’s wrists, then her throat, and finally come to rest over her heart.
“It’s beating. You have a heartbeat. But that means you’re not…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, so Annas does it for her.
“Not dead. I know. I’m alive now. Like bait. That’s what Darks are – bait that used to be vampire. That’s what I am.” It’s the first time she’s actually said it, and it’s not quite the release she’d hoped it would be.
Annas has always been stronger than Maria, but now her friend has her wrists in what feels like an unbreakable grip. “Annas, you shouldn’t have come here,” she says, her voice lower and closer than Annas had hoped.
“Just because I’m alive doesn’t mean you have to eat me,” she says, and hopes to high heaven she’s telling the truth.
Maria shakes her head and steps back. “You’re absolutely right, of course. I’m sorry. It’s just so weird. Who else knows?”
“Just you and my parents,” Annas says. “I’m going to have to leave – I can’t stay on this rock. There’s too many of us – of you – and not enough bait for me to stay alive.”
“So if you die again, you stay that way? Blood won’t bring you back?”
Annas shakes her head, her thumb pressing into the brand-new pulse point on her wrist. “Nope. I have to make the stuff myself now, I gather. So if that process stops, so do I.”
“And there’s no way to turn you back.”
“None whatsoever. Darksblood is powerful stuff.” She’s done so much research, but there really is no way to turn a Dark back into what she was before.
“Where are you going to go?” Maria is farther away now, probably sitting on the couch, trying to get away from the smell of Annas’s blood.
Annas shrugs. “I thought maybe Yigeron? There’s enough people in and out of there that I won’t be too stand-out, at least.” She would’ve been a week ago, because the children of the Dragon all have beauty and grace beyond any other people – and she is noticing that so much more these days, with her clumsy living reflexes and her useless eyes – but now she’s boring by anyone’s standards, and if she can stop tripping over herself she won’t attract any attention.
“Yigeron’s tropical, isn’t it? You’ll be… oh, I guess you won’t. Sorry.”
Yeah, she’ll be better off away from here. “I’m going now. I promise not to get eaten on the way to the dock,” she says. She wants to be there before darkdown so she can get on the first ship leaving. She just wanted to say goodbye before she left.
“All right, then,” Maria says, slowly. “Goodbye, then. I guess.”
“Yeah, that’s it. ‘Bye. I’ll come back to visit sometime,” she says. She’s lying. She turns the doorknob and takes a step into the street; Maria moves to the door without apparently covering the intervening space.
“I’ll hold you to that. At least write me a letter. Not in blood.” That’s always been kind of an in-joke ever since Annas wrote with her dinner instead of drinking it when she was about twelve.
“Not even someone else’s?” she asks lightly. Maria’s laugh is a touch strained.
“I thought Darks had rules about that,” she says. Annas deliberates.
“Bait does, but I don’t think Darks do,” she says. “We’re a bit off, you see. Think we used to be dragon-children.” Her fangs haven’t changed, and the grin she gives is all the more worrying for coming from an otherwise normal face. “Maybe I’ll send you a nice Mainland boy. I hear they’re delicious down there.”
The laugh this time is genuine, and Annas pulls her cloak around her and sets off.