ledaholland

[ledaholland]

In comparison to her lifetime companion, Leda was well aware of the slow decay that time provided their new lives. It was a common illness for many like herself, and she was all too familiar with the way it fermented inside her in her darkest moments. There was no cure for the dullness of knowing you’d never die, even if it was the very point of it all. She had made peace with her decision and in moments where she doubted it, the unknown that lurked on the other side was too daunting to find out.

Leda understood his madness and spent her years doing what she could to mend his wounds. It had been this way for longer than she could count. When they met and hundreds of years after, Leda searched her memory and found no record of his mind in disturbance. They’d spent decades together exploring the world as it built itself up from the earth. At that time and even for much longer thereafter the world was a beautiful place to observe. Henrik had been scarred and tampered, but there was no burdens too deep that kept him tossing and turning the way he did now. Even in their times of selfish disregard for life, nothing bothered him the way it had for some time.

The silent denial settled in his eyes, and they did looked at her with a pitiful defeat, dampened by the realization that even she could not mend his mind. Leda sighed at his absence, more disappointed in herself than the empty space where he used to be. “Maybe we should’ve adopted babies instead.” A small cracked through her cloud of worry, subject lighter even if her mind was still on how restless he was.

“Sometimes I wonder if we made a mistake in not having them leave the nest. Venturing out on your own is a crucial part of development.” She mused. “But then I could never let them leave the nest.” Now her eyes were fixed on some wooden fixture, thoughts deep. “They’re comfortable. This new world is not as hard to navigate as it was for us and even then I do not think they could do it on their own. They wouldn’t want to. It would be too hard.” She smiled then sighed, eyes softening. “I love the little one. He’s got your passion for life. There’s no violence in him, not quick to temper. I thought time might do the same for the other two. I cherish when Eve is in her happier phases of the moon.” Her hand slipped over the smooth surface of their sheets in thought. “Maybe we’ve been too prideful to come to terms with our own mistakes. We coddled them, my love. It’s well time we admit we may have spoiled them rotten.“

Leda pet at his hair, fingers softly move through the strands slowly. “Perhaps..” she answered truthfully. In time they grew over the needless lies and saw reality for what it was. In all actuality the fact that Henrik and herself had survived all these was practically testament to that truth, and to honey it with a lie was unlike her. “It’s likely that if we are still, they are too.” Her face softened at the kiss to her palm. They needed nowhere to be in that moment but in that room regardless, eyes locked for long moments. She did not wonder what may be on his mind, for it would not be long before she would know. It was useless to carry a burden alone.

What plagued him could not cause her fear, for her maker was who she shared a bed. She saw him every night when they woke, each night less fearful than the last. She had taken her creator for love, just about one of the only ones in their home that had been given the choice. His worries were constant, the current one not very different from the last. Leda met his sigh and gave her another hand to rest stop his own, soothing at the skin with her thumb. “I don’t regret being given a choice. With everything comes some degree of sacrifice.” She tried to remind him.

“They would all do the same.” In this, Leda was certain. No degree of years could shred the totality of a life alone. None of her children would have managed this life alone, souls empty and gone. What was a life without love? For all their spoils and resentments they had never chartered the world without guidance. Perhaps they had been condemned to this life and detested it because they did not understand love.

“Don’t worry yourself over things you cannot change.” She sighed and tried at soothing him, knowing it hardly ever did. She understood his plight and felt his guilt all the same. For all the hatred she felt for one child, and love for another, she felt empathy for their condition, knowing their circumstance was not the same. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have spoiled them. Lived in squalor and been nomadic, ate when and wherever we could, and then they’d be less resentful towards all of this.” She looked around at the detailed decoration, heavy drapery, as if it would provide an answer. “I wish it were a phase. That they would age out of it and feel some peace with it.”

[ledaholland]

Leda knew better to let sleeping dogs lie. This fury was the only living thing about him, like a fire he built with embers of spite. Nothing was ever good enough, no amount of material or physical enjoyment or entertainment, only the lust for blood and the desire for suffering. It was the temper tantrum that would never end. Leda thought, even after years of miserable pushback that eventually someday she would come to and not look at him with such contempt. And for many years she did try. She tried to crack what made him tick and what gave him pure joy. Threw elegant balls and trips to see what might fill the void. Nothing did.

What was worse was how tired she’d grown if the bloodshed, perhaps in her very old age the appeal had lost its way. Blood was a necessary part of survival and she was no stranger to its means, but even he had long enough time to sate his vices and still he was no closer to calm. She could his eyes light up with excitement, like adrenaline filled his body from her short fuse. Leda wasted no time between his first question and the second to hurl the closest lamp then vase towards him, snarling at the implication. The first met his side with a loud crash, the other missing as he anticipated its contact and moved out of the way. Priceless artifacts she was pained to be without, but not enough to not let her anger get in the way.

“You’re repulsive.” She snarled, teeth baring themselves as he riled her up. Leda loathed this temperament and how he studied her triggers. His complaints grew in long form and piled up, the same that had resurfaced time and time again. It brought out unexpected laughter from her mouth, like she might be privy to something he was not yet aware of. “I would have peace.” She knew what boredom he spoke of, the new enemy of this undead life.

A curse disguised as a blessing - time stole the joy of savoring something because it was fleeting. “Why are you still here then?” She pointedly asked him, a huff in her throat. “Because then what would all of this been for?” She answered for him. “Is your new life maddening because you lack entertainment? Your only reprieve is the terror you create and you wonder why you are eternally restless. You mock what you do not have. You’re desperate for some kind of answer like a lost fucking puppy, not aware that you are the only person standing in the way of your happiness. Tell me, Gustav, how has your attitude carried you thus far? Are you content with the pain you caused, does it hold you close in your long bouts of loneliness? Does it comfort you when you finally had your fill of killing and there’s nothing and no one left to stand beside you? Does it hurt you to know that no one loves you that didn’t bring you to this afterlife?”

“What would you have me do?” She bellowed back at him. As she was and always had been, ever since Henrik dropped him on their doorstep like a dog without an owner, confused. You It never made enough sense to her, why such luck would only be met with disgust. Had he not been given a better life than his own as a human? Was that not what mothers and fathers were supposed to do, provide for their children, give them all that she did not have for herself. “So die, then,” she put her hands up in opposition, smacking them at her side. “Go die if this is too boring for you. I have never denied what we are. I have only done what I could to make this as comfortable for you and for Eve. Desecrating whole towns, serial killings all these things endanger us, they put you at risk.”

Even Eve received her eternal life with much better reception, though materialistic as it might be. She would never match the pinnacles of Gustav and his rage, not anymore. “You want me to be the answer to all of your problems then defy me at every turn.” He was petulant boy, like a natural disaster taking any life in his path. Feeding and hunting would never go away, and no one in the house save for their dhampir, could say they lived without ruthless murder under their belts. But he was different. There was a stubborn anger in him, a boredom only sated by death and destruction. This part of Leda had expired since then, and wherever she needed to kill she did so as ethically as she could manage.

For Gustav, it was a favorite sport. Irritation, provocation, pain, it all seemed the only thing to satisfy him. Even with her, it seemed a constant battle. He aimed to pull the worst parts from her, perhaps intrigued by what she might have been before. It gave him some sense of validation, she imagined, for the others to be as furious and reckless as himself. And at the current moment, such was working in his favor.

Little persuaded him to abandon his crusade. He’d always been that way, unable to forget something once he had his sights on it, determined to unnerve one in the most spiteful of ways. The human blood inside her could boil itself with her anger, fingers clasped tight and white knuckled. He seemed proud of himself, like he had gotten what he wanted. A sinister grin grew on his face like he’d just been handed a trophy. Leda felt the air shift, the space cleared in an instant, hands at each side of her face, lips pressed to her own.

She should have known this was what he wanted. An act of perversion. Even with no blood shared between the two, there was something so innately wrong with it. Her wild eyes closed at once and for moments, longer for them and quicker for most, she didn’t pull from his grasp. Something like a growl fell into his mouth before her nails pressed to his chest, turning in and drawing blood before pushing him again. “What the fuck is your problem.” Leda hissed back at him. “You’re sick..” She spat, fury fueling her body. Her face twisted in a way it didn’t before, eyes darkened and full of malice, hand reaching for the nearest object to haul at him.

[ledaholland]

“What would you have me do?” She bellowed back at him. As she was and always had been, ever since Henrik dropped him on their doorstep like a dog without an owner, confused. You It never made enough sense to her, why such luck would only be met with disgust. Had he not been given a better life than his own as a human? Was that not what mothers and fathers were supposed to do, provide for their children, give them all that she did not have for herself. “So die, then,” she put her hands up in opposition, smacking them at her side. “Go die if this is too boring for you. I have never denied what we are. I have only done what I could to make this as comfortable for you and for Eve. Desecrating whole towns, serial killings all these things endanger us, they put you at risk.”

Even Eve received her eternal life with much better reception, though materialistic as it might be. She would never match the pinnacles of Gustav and his rage, not anymore. “You want me to be the answer to all of your problems then defy me at every turn.” He was petulant boy, like a natural disaster taking any life in his path. Feeding and hunting would never go away, and no one in the house save for their dhampir, could say they lived without ruthless murder under their belts. But he was different. There was a stubborn anger in him, a boredom only sated by death and destruction. This part of Leda had expired since then, and wherever she needed to kill she did so as ethically as she could manage.

For Gustav, it was a favorite sport. Irritation, provocation, pain, it all seemed the only thing to satisfy him. Even with her, it seemed a constant battle. He aimed to pull the worst parts from her, perhaps intrigued by what she might have been before. It gave him some sense of validation, she imagined, for the others to be as furious and reckless as himself. And at the current moment, such was working in his favor.

Little persuaded him to abandon his crusade. He’d always been that way, unable to forget something once he had his sights on it, determined to unnerve one in the most spiteful of ways. The human blood inside her could boil itself with her anger, fingers clasped tight and white knuckled. He seemed proud of himself, like he had gotten what he wanted. A sinister grin grew on his face like he’d just been handed a trophy. Leda felt the air shift, the space cleared in an instant, hands at each side of her face, lips pressed to her own.

She should have known this was what he wanted. An act of perversion. Even with no blood shared between the two, there was something so innately wrong with it. Her wild eyes closed at once and for moments, longer for them and quicker for most, she didn’t pull from his grasp. Something like a growl fell into his mouth before her nails pressed to his chest, turning in and drawing blood before pushing him again. “What the fuck is your problem.” Leda hissed back at him. “You’re sick..” She spat, fury fueling her body. Her face twisted in a way it didn’t before, eyes darkened and full of malice, hand reaching for the nearest object to haul at him.

“And I enslaved you?!” Leda had gone to turn her head and rid herself of the argument which served no merit to continue, no productive outcome from the last several thousand of the same - but his words were sticking and dredging forth the anger she worked so hard to maintain. To be a spiteful being was easy, made easier each second he spoke. Now her body had fully shifted to face him, nostrils flaring as her voice rose in anger. “You were a slave as a boy and what as a man? Now you have all the gifts and advantages - a new life - and you waste it on death and destruction and want to blame me, blame us.” Her eyes shifted as they glared. “You make nothing of yourself and spurn your resentment on anyone but yourself.”

He raged on, taking a chunk of the wall in all his fury, bloodied hands healing faster than the blood on them could dry. An intermission of her own opinion began as his flooded forward, screams echoing through the room and likely the halls. In true fashion of what she could only imagine real children were like, he threw everything in his arsenal at her, whatever would stick and stick in the most painful manner. The remark was sharp and as such it made her do something that perhaps was more indicative of her anger than anything else. Leda threw her head back, laughter filling her chest and then the air. “Were it that I would have asked for a son, it would not be you.”

Leda could not grow the inches it would take to meet him at eye level, removing her gaze and swatting at his shirt at some wooden debris that had flaked onto his collar. For a brief second the idea of it held a great sense of irony, the motion of tidying up what should be her son. Her hand met his neck in a single motion, thumb pressed into the curve of his adams apple, grip tight in a choke. She only wished the pain could be coupled with a loss of air, perhaps less was needed inside his head. “You can meet the sweet release of death if you seek it.”

Now she searched his eyes for the malice that remained, nostrils flaring as she looked at him with disgust. “You are your own punishment. You are your own curse. You want to hunt and kill? Go then! You’re so sure you know better, see what’s out there for you. Go out in your own and become the little creature you think you are now, scurry from place to place at night, feed off scraps in the street and see if it doesn’t suit you.” She released the pressure from her thumb but kept her hand in place, knowing retaliation would surely come soon after. “You are a spoiled little boy. You get everything in the world and you spit on it, curse me and him for a life in which you are free.” She released her hold, using the space she’d earned from grabbing his neck to maintain between them, pushing him off her with a frown. “You kill what is weak because that is all that you can kill. Your ire is right in front of you and you do nothing, because that is all that you can do.”

[ledaholland]

“And I enslaved you?!” Leda had gone to turn her head and rid herself of the argument which served no merit to continue, no productive outcome from the last several thousand of the same - but his words were sticking and dredging forth the anger she worked so hard to maintain. To be a spiteful being was easy, made easier each second he spoke. Now her body had fully shifted to face him, nostrils flaring as her voice rose in anger. “You were a slave as a boy and what as a man? Now you have all the gifts and advantages - a new life - and you waste it on death and destruction and want to blame me, blame us.” Her eyes shifted as they glared. “You make nothing of yourself and spurn your resentment on anyone but yourself.”

He raged on, taking a chunk of the wall in all his fury, bloodied hands healing faster than the blood on them could dry. An intermission of her own opinion began as his flooded forward, screams echoing through the room and likely the halls. In true fashion of what she could only imagine real children were like, he threw everything in his arsenal at her, whatever would stick and stick in the most painful manner. The remark was sharp and as such it made her do something that perhaps was more indicative of her anger than anything else. Leda threw her head back, laughter filling her chest and then the air. “Were it that I would have asked for a son, it would not be you.”

Leda could not grow the inches it would take to meet him at eye level, removing her gaze and swatting at his shirt at some wooden debris that had flaked onto his collar. For a brief second the idea of it held a great sense of irony, the motion of tidying up what should be her son. Her hand met his neck in a single motion, thumb pressed into the curve of his adams apple, grip tight in a choke. She only wished the pain could be coupled with a loss of air, perhaps less was needed inside his head. “You can meet the sweet release of death if you seek it.”

Now she searched his eyes for the malice that remained, nostrils flaring as she looked at him with disgust. “You are your own punishment. You are your own curse. You want to hunt and kill? Go then! You’re so sure you know better, see what’s out there for you. Go out in your own and become the little creature you think you are now, scurry from place to place at night, feed off scraps in the street and see if it doesn’t suit you.” She released the pressure from her thumb but kept her hand in place, knowing retaliation would surely come soon after. “You are a spoiled little boy. You get everything in the world and you spit on it, curse me and him for a life in which you are free.” She released her hold, using the space she’d earned from grabbing his neck to maintain between them, pushing him off her with a frown. “You kill what is weak because that is all that you can kill. Your ire is right in front of you and you do nothing, because that is all that you can do.”

Leda felt her eyes twitch at the mention of her rug, which she had collected from centuries before from a merchant who spent the better half of his last years finishing it for her. It was not a piece of particular significance, as there were many in the many rooms surrounding, but rather the lack of care for preservation. It was the one of the things she hated most about him, his disregard for anything special. He held nothing dear, nothing was sacred in his eyes enough to keep safe. Leda wished many times to destroy things he cared about, but there was nothing. And it became the thing he held against her, the one thing she could not surpass him in.

Perhaps that, in turn with the way he could tower over her, gave him a sense of superiority. It wouldn’t have given her any sense of surprise, watching as he would go from her back to his victim, tossing at her draining body like a wet rag doll. He cursed and ranted, coiling the turn of her head just to rip into her, more blood pooling onto the floor. “You’ve lived a life of privilege.” Her voice was starting to get higher, and whatever he was trying to conjure up was bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been afforded the chance to live peacefully, without fear because we suffered before you were even conceived.”

She felt her jaw clench. “It’s not just a rug, Gustav, it’s my fucking rug. I don’t care if it means anything to you. My things aren’t yours to destroy.” If she had a heartbeat it would be pounding at the base of her ears. “I bring these play things to this prison with stone walls because of you, so you can stay and be safe to kill whoever you want, lest someone come and find you, and god forbid, relieve me of your malignant presence in my life.” She was walking towards him, pointing a finger at him, the way she always did when he would pull the anger out from under her. “God forbid I try and keep you safe so you can come home and spite me, and curse me because you’re so bored of this world. You want to make me mad because you blame me?”

[ledaholland]

Leda pet at his hair, fingers softly move through the strands slowly. “Perhaps..” she answered truthfully. In time they grew over the needless lies and saw reality for what it was. In all actuality the fact that Henrik and herself had survived all these was practically testament to that truth, and to honey it with a lie was unlike her. “It’s likely that if we are still, they are too.” Her face softened at the kiss to her palm. They needed nowhere to be in that moment but in that room regardless, eyes locked for long moments. She did not wonder what may be on his mind, for it would not be long before she would know. It was useless to carry a burden alone.

What plagued him could not cause her fear, for her maker was who she shared a bed. She saw him every night when they woke, each night less fearful than the last. She had taken her creator for love, just about one of the only ones in their home that had been given the choice. His worries were constant, the current one not very different from the last. Leda met his sigh and gave her another hand to rest stop his own, soothing at the skin with her thumb. “I don’t regret being given a choice. With everything comes some degree of sacrifice.” She tried to remind him.

“They would all do the same.” In this, Leda was certain. No degree of years could shred the totality of a life alone. None of her children would have managed this life alone, souls empty and gone. What was a life without love? For all their spoils and resentments they had never chartered the world without guidance. Perhaps they had been condemned to this life and detested it because they did not understand love.

“Don’t worry yourself over things you cannot change.” She sighed and tried at soothing him, knowing it hardly ever did. She understood his plight and felt his guilt all the same. For all the hatred she felt for one child, and love for another, she felt empathy for their condition, knowing their circumstance was not the same. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have spoiled them. Lived in squalor and been nomadic, ate when and wherever we could, and then they’d be less resentful towards all of this.” She looked around at the detailed decoration, heavy drapery, as if it would provide an answer. “I wish it were a phase. That they would age out of it and feel some peace with it.”

Memories were all that was left of her dreams now. During the day, when the world lived on under the sun they slept in whatever capacity existed for those of their kind - a retelling of the decades of their own lives would come alive when they closed their eyes. Long were the days before the long night, the endless cycle of violence perpetrated by religion and the zealots she escaped from. She could still feel the fear as it beat against her heart for the last time, wild like an animal caged. Leda was in her happier decades and when she closed her eyes now she saw the meadows, the lakes like mirrors when the moon would stand against it, the sky and its endless stars. Sprawled along the grass long before airplanes and moving cars, before there were more than footpaths in the land, when it was just the two of them in the middle of nowhere without a name, nothing but silence to carry them through the long night. Centuries would pass from that time, each one marked at his side, some full of rage and others, bliss.

She had been awake long before him, staring at his face for what could have been hours. There were busybodies downstairs, human hires working to decorate their home until it was transformed. Near to the top of the castle on the hill, Leda listened to the wind from the open window, watched the movement in his face. He would twitch and mutter, some words in languages long past their expiry. When he would stir from his sleep he grew restless, worry setting in his face. He lived hundreds of years before her birth, and again in her rebirth. Henrik had seen horrors unlike she had, most of which he had worked to shelter her from. They both had their time of greed and gluttony, overzealous in their love of power and the feeling it gave them. They were no angels, imperfect, flawed in every sense of the word.

“Something deeper ails you.” Leda searched his eyes in their worry, at his eyebrows as they pressed into his forehead in distress. She knew of this dream he spoke of, his close brushes with death - real death, even for those like them. A sigh fell from her lips, concern riddled in her expression. “The sun will set any minute now. I won’t draw the shades to let it in.” She stroked the hair that felt to his brow, disheveled in all of this dreaming, a smile forming at each end of her lips. “You haven’t had that dream for a while.”

[ledaholland]

Leda felt her eyes twitch at the mention of her rug, which she had collected from centuries before from a merchant who spent the better half of his last years finishing it for her. It was not a piece of particular significance, as there were many in the many rooms surrounding, but rather the lack of care for preservation. It was the one of the things she hated most about him, his disregard for anything special. He held nothing dear, nothing was sacred in his eyes enough to keep safe. Leda wished many times to destroy things he cared about, but there was nothing. And it became the thing he held against her, the one thing she could not surpass him in.

Perhaps that, in turn with the way he could tower over her, gave him a sense of superiority. It wouldn’t have given her any sense of surprise, watching as he would go from her back to his victim, tossing at her draining body like a wet rag doll. He cursed and ranted, coiling the turn of her head just to rip into her, more blood pooling onto the floor. “You’ve lived a life of privilege.” Her voice was starting to get higher, and whatever he was trying to conjure up was bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been afforded the chance to live peacefully, without fear because we suffered before you were even conceived.”

She felt her jaw clench. “It’s not just a rug, Gustav, it’s my fucking rug. I don’t care if it means anything to you. My things aren’t yours to destroy.” If she had a heartbeat it would be pounding at the base of her ears. “I bring these play things to this prison with stone walls because of you, so you can stay and be safe to kill whoever you want, lest someone come and find you, and god forbid, relieve me of your malignant presence in my life.” She was walking towards him, pointing a finger at him, the way she always did when he would pull the anger out from under her. “God forbid I try and keep you safe so you can come home and spite me, and curse me because you’re so bored of this world. You want to make me mad because you blame me?”

Time had given Leda a better grasp on certain thoughts and when to release them. She found a practiced merit in the occasional lingering silence and in choosing her own words carefully. This was especially important around what would have been her son, had she any real emotion besides fury to associate him with.

It wasn’t hard to tell when he was trying to get a rise out of her. The unfortunate part of remaining under the same roof for centuries meant they knew each other in totality, all for the good and evil that they truly were. Once established in a remote location with a safe and spacious home, Leda found that it opened them to the world, some less appeasing than others. She even felt a twitch in her neck at that shrill voice he used when he wanted to annoy her, a coo coming from his bloodied mouth, decaying corpse slouched on the floor.

“Might come out.” She repeated, not caring to withhold the roll of her eyes. “There’s an expiration on items produced a few decades ago, Gustav.” Leda pulled her nails from the wood, entering the room to get a better view of the damage done. The girl was almost turning blue, a pale discolored sheen beginning to show under the skin. She looked over her body unflinching, dragging her gaze from the ground back to her infantile son and smacking away the hand that tried to pass off blood on few fingers. She tried to levy at the tone of her voice, but her words were not without spite. “I’m trying to find a reason why we throw these parties and invite all these people here, for you and for your sister to stay safe, just for you to go and do the very thing we made so easy for you.” Leda didn’t let it slide that she was his mother, even in the most slippery of distinctions. He hated being reminded of that, to be paired with Aoibhinn like a couple of rugrats. “I guess I was hoping by now for a little bit more respect and appreciation for how lovely of a set up you have here.”

[ledaholland]

Time had given Leda a better grasp on certain thoughts and when to release them. She found a practiced merit in the occasional lingering silence and in choosing her own words carefully. This was especially important around what would have been her son, had she any real emotion besides fury to associate him with.

It wasn’t hard to tell when he was trying to get a rise out of her. The unfortunate part of remaining under the same roof for centuries meant they knew each other in totality, all for the good and evil that they truly were. Once established in a remote location with a safe and spacious home, Leda found that it opened them to the world, some less appeasing than others. She even felt a twitch in her neck at that shrill voice he used when he wanted to annoy her, a coo coming from his bloodied mouth, decaying corpse slouched on the floor.

“Might come out.” She repeated, not caring to withhold the roll of her eyes. “There’s an expiration on items produced a few decades ago, Gustav.” Leda pulled her nails from the wood, entering the room to get a better view of the damage done. The girl was almost turning blue, a pale discolored sheen beginning to show under the skin. She looked over her body unflinching, dragging her gaze from the ground back to her infantile son and smacking away the hand that tried to pass off blood on few fingers. She tried to levy at the tone of her voice, but her words were not without spite. “I’m trying to find a reason why we throw these parties and invite all these people here, for you and for your sister to stay safe, just for you to go and do the very thing we made so easy for you.” Leda didn’t let it slide that she was his mother, even in the most slippery of distinctions. He hated being reminded of that, to be paired with Aoibhinn like a couple of rugrats. “I guess I was hoping by now for a little bit more respect and appreciation for how lovely of a set up you have here.”

Walking the earth for thousands of years meant learning how to become comfortable in the mundane. The hour was late, and the moon had stretched well into the sky before she started her errands. The castle was big enough to tend to that it was almost always a project on its own, but it was never enough. Her second life began some years before the burst of a new era, one of great music and art. It had been a great influence on her but fostered a love that only money could fill. It wasn’t until much later that she began to collect, hoarding items from years past. The monetary value meant nothing compared to the memories, to go back to the place in her life when she first touched upon them and be her again, another layer, a touch closer to her human self.

Some memories were meant to be forgotten. It wasn’t the sound that drew her to the room, but the smell. It was thick and ripe and filled the air as soon as it came from their skin, a mess wherever it came from. Leda felt the sensation of her own body at the scent, her skin crawling while her nose led her close.

There he was, wiping the blood from the back of his hand with a smug grin just seconds from splaying on his face. Sometimes Leda would curse him as if he were her own, wishing that Henrik had brought him to her in his last minutes just so she could see the malice in his eyes and let him return to the earth. Days like today felt very much like that wicked wish, but mostly now all she could feel now was disappointment. Leda held the doorframe, nails digging into the wood. “I’d assume you chose a girl that no one might miss, but that be too generous of me.” She stared at for a time, the blood pooling on the floor below him like a infant child with little control of self. She knew why he did it, and how much he enjoyed the anger that followed. Somehow she felt it better placed with a higher power, one that was hiding away upstairs. “You’ve got blood all over my carpet.”

[ledaholland]

Walking the earth for thousands of years meant learning how to become comfortable in the mundane. The hour was late, and the moon had stretched well into the sky before she started her errands. The castle was big enough to tend to that it was almost always a project on its own, but it was never enough. Her second life began some years before the burst of a new era, one of great music and art. It had been a great influence on her but fostered a love that only money could fill. It wasn’t until much later that she began to collect, hoarding items from years past. The monetary value meant nothing compared to the memories, to go back to the place in her life when she first touched upon them and be her again, another layer, a touch closer to her human self.

Some memories were meant to be forgotten. It wasn’t the sound that drew her to the room, but the smell. It was thick and ripe and filled the air as soon as it came from their skin, a mess wherever it came from. Leda felt the sensation of her own body at the scent, her skin crawling while her nose led her close.

There he was, wiping the blood from the back of his hand with a smug grin just seconds from splaying on his face. Sometimes Leda would curse him as if he were her own, wishing that Henrik had brought him to her in his last minutes just so she could see the malice in his eyes and let him return to the earth. Days like today felt very much like that wicked wish, but mostly now all she could feel now was disappointment. Leda held the doorframe, nails digging into the wood. “I’d assume you chose a girl that no one might miss, but that be too generous of me.” She stared at for a time, the blood pooling on the floor below him like a infant child with little control of self. She knew why he did it, and how much he enjoyed the anger that followed. Somehow she felt it better placed with a higher power, one that was hiding away upstairs. “You’ve got blood all over my carpet.”

@ledaholland

Midnight. It was basically when his day was just starting, but for most, their days ended hours ago. But not all. No, some people considered the night to be for them and thus they went to party away their hard earned money. Those were his favorite people. They were dolled up and clean, intoxicated and weak, and they were out in the darkest corners without a care for their safety. It was practically a buffet just to walk down the street. Some time around eleven, Gustav had left the sprawling estate that him and his fanged family were now calling home, black jeans and a leather jacket clinging to his body over a black tank top and very expensive Italian made shoes that were a great conversation starter. Women often saw a well dressed man as a target for free drinks or a one night stand, some seeing him and hoping he would become their meal ticket in some way, shape, or form. Little did they know, they were the meals.

He had prowled the streets for a short while before ducking into a club, opting to bribe the bouncer rather than use his powers out of sheer laziness. Once inside, the black interior and flashing lights were like camouflage. No one could see him staring them down, But Gustav? He could see every single one of them. Within the next hour he had drank, danced, seduced, and lured away a pretty young redhead away from her friends. She was barely drunk, but clearly very horny, as they hadn't made it past the backdoor before she was clinging to him via her mouth. Being a man, Gustav enjoyed the special kind of attention she was giving, but the more her passion rose, the harder her heart pumped and the hotter and faster her blood ran. It took a lot not to feed on her then and there, but they were still freshly settled into this new country, and Gustav wasn't ready to flee it so soon.

Instead, he managed to pry the woman off him long enough to get into a cab, taking her all the way back to the castle. Her giggles filled the car all the way, the driver looking at them making out with a mix of disgust and envy. Gustav almost felt sorry for him; this would be his last night alive too, given the fact that there could be no witnesses that saw her arrive and tell the cops. The moment they exited the car, Gustav ushered the woman inside to wait for him as he made an excuse about paying the driver. She was out of view in under a minute and Gustav was free to snap the man's neck and quickly move the car out of view. He then hurried inside just in time to catch the woman in awe of their home. The next few minutes were a blur. Gustav lead the woman to one of the large sitting rooms, his eyes dark and hungry. She lunged for him, eager to kiss him again, and after one sweet goodbye kiss, Gustav grabbed the woman's neck, tilted her head, and bared his fangs, sinking them into her flesh and causing blood to fly from her. He drank greedily and deep for what felt like ages, only to stop when he heard footsteps. Looking up, he saw her. His 'mother', watching him, an unreadable expression in her eyes that he should have known, but women were impossible to understand. Dropping the woman, Gustav held back a smirk as he looked at the blood stain he'd made on the rug below his feet. " Sorry, mommy. I made a mess again, didn't I?"

[ledaholland]

Memories were all that was left of her dreams now. During the day, when the world lived on under the sun they slept in whatever capacity existed for those of their kind - a retelling of the decades of their own lives would come alive when they closed their eyes. Long were the days before the long night, the endless cycle of violence perpetrated by religion and the zealots she escaped from. She could still feel the fear as it beat against her heart for the last time, wild like an animal caged. Leda was in her happier decades and when she closed her eyes now she saw the meadows, the lakes like mirrors when the moon would stand against it, the sky and its endless stars. Sprawled along the grass long before airplanes and moving cars, before there were more than footpaths in the land, when it was just the two of them in the middle of nowhere without a name, nothing but silence to carry them through the long night. Centuries would pass from that time, each one marked at his side, some full of rage and others, bliss.

She had been awake long before him, staring at his face for what could have been hours. There were busybodies downstairs, human hires working to decorate their home until it was transformed. Near to the top of the castle on the hill, Leda listened to the wind from the open window, watched the movement in his face. He would twitch and mutter, some words in languages long past their expiry. When he would stir from his sleep he grew restless, worry setting in his face. He lived hundreds of years before her birth, and again in her rebirth. Henrik had seen horrors unlike she had, most of which he had worked to shelter her from. They both had their time of greed and gluttony, overzealous in their love of power and the feeling it gave them. They were no angels, imperfect, flawed in every sense of the word.

“Something deeper ails you.” Leda searched his eyes in their worry, at his eyebrows as they pressed into his forehead in distress. She knew of this dream he spoke of, his close brushes with death - real death, even for those like them. A sigh fell from her lips, concern riddled in her expression. “The sun will set any minute now. I won’t draw the shades to let it in.” She stroked the hair that felt to his brow, disheveled in all of this dreaming, a smile forming at each end of her lips. “You haven’t had that dream for a while.”

@ledaholland

The old warrior used to think this life was his promised Valhalla once. Losing his wife and children to war, famine, and sickness, Henrik once felt cursed by the gods when he was a mortal man. To reach his age was something to celebrate, but to reach it alone with nothing but old wounds to show for it was a burden. He had been a simple farmer for a time, trying his hand at a good, honest life. He wanted to provide for his family and protect them, all while leading a simple life, but fate had other plans for him. Fate, as it were, wished for Henrik to return to the battlefield to take his final breaths. Fate, took his family and home from him and forced a weapon back into his hand. Fate placed him with that band of men sent to explore a foreign land, and in it's woods, fate left a creature, hungry and brutal, waiting for him. The night was black all around them and Henrik and his company had not taken torches with them to avoid warning the enemy of their coming. The caked the bare parts of their skin with mud, donned black clothes and hides and tread softly and slowly across the ground. They were hunting something. Something they didn't know was hunting them right back…

Henrik shot up from his bed, red and black sheets caressing his bare skin softly. It was a drastic opposite from the cold embrace of his daymare, and yet nothing new to him. He'd had the dream many a time, always the same, because it was not a dream, but a memory. An aging, tired, hopeless man with a bloodlust and nothing more to lose, surrounded by young men with so much life in them still. Every single one of them had been slaughtered that faithful night, and Henrik was next. He lay on his back, wounded and prepared to die and be with his family. Instead, the creature took pity on him. Or maybe it saw something in him that changed it's bloodthirsty mind. Dipping in and out, feeling Death's cold grip beginning to nip at his fingers, something warm, thick, and metallic coated Henrik's lips and tongue just before he faded from the world. When he woke up, He had found himself in a dark cave. There were no bodies of comrades around and all the pain he'd felt before passing out was gone. In fact, he felt stronger. His senses felt more alive than ever, and Henrik had never felt so invincible. It had lasted all of two minutes before an attempt to step outside the cave burned his flesh, the warm sun tearing his skin apart and making him dash back into the cave.

He stayed in that cave for days, afraid and grieving, until hunger drove him into the woods again. He soon found that at night he could travel freely, and thus began his new life as a vampire. The centuries passed both slowly and quickly after that. He had learned, travelled, accumulated wealth, and done things he never thought possible. Still, it was nothing without someone to share it with. That was why Henrik took a wife. Her beauty stunned him and her strength was too alluring to ignore. For the first time in his life, Henrik had understood why he had been turned when he saw Leda. Something in her eyes called to him, and he had to give her his power. Of course, she resented him for it. Often she would attack him with fists and words for what he'd done to her, but in the end, Henrik knew that they were always going to be together and that she was the one person to understand him.

Turning onto his side, he faced the woman and stroked his hand down her pale, sculpted cheek. It was not yet dark , but the light from the sun outside was heavily hidden through thick, dark curtains. " I saw the dream again." He said almost softly. As embarrassing as it was, Henrik wanted to be comforted by her. "It was so vivid… I could feel the sun on my skin…"