#✧ ᵐᵉᵍᵃᶰᵉ ; №ι ( ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵈᵘᶜᵗᶤᵛᵉ ᵇᵃʳᵗᵉᶰᵈᵉʳ )

[shctteredillusions]

Stoney gray eyes watched Aya from her place behind the bar, the tiny pureblood standing up on stage and letting her voice carry across the audience standing before her. Aya always seemed so alive whenever she sang, an entirely different girl than the one she had stumbled across in an abandoned building, sleeping on a bare floor with nothing but the clothes on her back. The way her eyes would light up, the way she seemed to effortless move right along to the beat, it all seemed to come so naturally to her.

Just like someone else she knew so long ago.

Memories flooded her vision without warning, cold eyes growing distant as Megane was overcome by it. Another voice reached her, just as lovely and warm as Aya’s but this one was softer, lingering with the voice of her youth as the images of long shimmering darks locks, accented by the light of the fire, took her to a time when things were different.

Claudette, she was so young, so beautiful, and far too kind and carefree for a girl in their situation. At that time it had angered Meg to see her like that, jealous of the freedom she would have while she had to be married off to some strange man, some aristocrat that had seen Meg and wanted her for himself and had convinced her father to go along with it with the promises of wealth and safety. She remembered all the times her mother had told her that she’d make someone a wonderful wife, how much she hated hearing it and knowing that that was all her future held for her. To marry and bear children for some man somewhere in the world. And it had come to her far sooner than either she or her parents could even realize.

She continued to watch as Claudette danced around the fire, her voice carrying among the townspeople as her father drank and her mother clapped along. They were happy. Happy that Meg had found herself a man of noble blood to marry, one to set their family free of their poverty and worries. Happy that meg was marrying a man she had met but once, a man so torn by her beauty that in his greed, he demanded her for himself. That old spark of anger flared within her once more, but as the flames in the pit began to grow, that anger morphed into fear.

The fire spread, engulfing their entire town in what seemed like just a few seconds and Meg found herself standing before the charred ruins of her old family home. Bile rose in her throat as the scent of burning flesh overwhelmed her, frozen in place as she stared at the barely visible remains of her mother within the ruins. Screams echo in her ears and yet they sound so distant. Murky, almost as if she were submerged underwater. The mark on her neck still stung as if it had never healed, a cold, pale hand raising to cover it as she turned on the heel of her barefoot and raced through the streets.

It’s all my fault.

If she hadn’t walked off alone during her families celebration of her coming union, if she hadn’t been so reckless then this never would have happened. She never would have been attacked by the Night Walker. She never would have died and come back as one of them. And she never would have been banished from her own town, her own home, and family. She would have never known what it felt like to have the eyes of those you love stare at you in fear. And she would have been here when the aristocrats had returned for her but instead of burning the town to ash and killing everyone in his path of rage, he would have carried her and her family off to a life of wealth and freedom.

As she runs, runs as far as she can from the carnage that was once her home, spots of red come into view, glancing down to find the dress she had been wearing nothing but a torn, dirty rag drenched in crimson. The scene changes and before she knows what’s really happening, she falls to her knees, tears streaming from glowing red eyes as vibrant as the blood coating her clothes and skin. All around her, the street was littered with bodies, each with bites to their neck and a silent scream forever fixed upon their faces. It was a massacre, just like the one that had stolen her family from her but this time... there was no fire, no men racing through town on horseback, shouting out orders and killing all who crossed their paths. This time, it was by her own two hands that these people had died. Her teeth.

Hatred spread through her like a wildfire, the need for revenge on the man who had turned her and caused all this overwhelmed her. Suffocated her. She knew in that moment that she would never stop until she found him, made him pay for what he put her through. If only he had let her die, to end this life of misery, but instead he forced her into eternal damnation. To live her life for all of eternity knowing what she was and what she had caused. It was pure torture.

A cold hand on her arm brought her back to the present with a start, gray eyes blinking away the tears that threatened to fall as she gazed down at the girl who had just been on stage. How long had she been lost to her memories? Had she missed the entire thing?

“Meg?” The pureblood tilts her head in worry, the hand never leaving her arm as if to try and comfort her. “Are you... are you alright.” Aya has never seen such a look in the elder vampires eyes before, the flicker of emotions across her face had been frightening and yet she knew Meg would never harm her.

Meg smiled, her own larger hand placed over Aya’s as she answered her worries. “I’m fine, ma biche, nothing to worry yourself over.” With that said, she turned and headed towards her office. She needed to be left to her thoughts for a while.

[shctteredillusions]

One would be surprised at the sheer amount of secrets that are whispered into the ears of an escort. To someone so beneath them, they neither trust nor fear them in the slightest. Their lips loosened by the steady stream of alcohol, their guard down as laughter rang from their lungs. Pupils dilated, their words just beginning to slur as a lopsided grin would take residence upon their face. All the signs she would look for, they were ready to reveal all to the woman they had paid so handsomely for a night of pleasure. Though she hated the taste of the alcohol coursing through their veins, this was how she had learned to survive. The pay was generous, she could do far more than any of the others given her advantage over them and then when they were far too drunk to remember, they’d give her the keys she needed to put them into her debt and steal herself a meal while she was at it.

Most would try to hide such a past, embarrassed by their own deeds and the levels they had fallen to in order to survive. Megane was different. She took pride in what she’s managed to overcome, the strength it took, the courage and determination, it was all worth it in the end. Though most do not know of the humble beginnings of the woman now known as simply Meg. They don’t know the hardships she’s endured, the pain and torment. All they know is that she is the one person you never want to cross, that one that when she comes to you, you don’t turn her away. It wasn’t all bad, so long as you keep up your end of the deal, so would she. A woman was only as good as her word and her word was sacred. But to those who break their deal, try to betray her, well let’s just say they regretted it until the day they died (which in most cases, wasn’t very long).

She can still remember the first time she had realized how easily she could use her feminine wiles to sway a man- or woman even- to do as she wished. Some simply wanted her for the pleasure of it, others that craved the intimacy and a night of feeling as if they actually mattered and as if their worries were nothing but a distant thought. She was an expert on making someone feel good, in any way they needed her to be.

It was the night after the massacre. Scared, alone, and on the run, she found a ship that was getting ready to sail. Having stolen some clothes from one of the homes of her own victims, she bathed in a lake she had stumbled across before changing and she tried her best to convince the man to allow her to board but nothing worked. Not until she noticed the way his eyes traveled over the exposed skin of her arms and shoulders, following the dip and curve of her waist hidden under the thick fabric of her dress before trailing across her shapely hips and thighs, his imagination clearly running wild with thoughts of what she looked like underneath by the gleam in his dark eyes. A little acting and sure enough, she was on that ship sailing to who knows where. She didn’t care where she landed herself, so long as she was as far from the place where her nightmares were born as she could possibly be.

They were at sea for weeks on end, shortly into the first week, she realized she had to figure something out. The limited amount of passengers, they couldn’t just keep disappearing without gaining attention every time her hunger struck. It wasn’t long after that that she used those charms of hers to gain the affections of the captain, with him under her thumb the rest was easy. He gave her the blood she so desired and through this, she began to figure out her own hunger, how much she needed and what was too much. The days she took too much it was easy to claim the captain just needed rest, the crew never going against an order.

She made a home for herself for some time in England, the start of her career as an escort. A prostitute. She quickly learned enough of the English language to get by, enough to realize how easily a drunk aristocrat with far too much power and wealth could spill so much when he’s guided by alcohol and a night of bliss. Little by little, she weaved her web, their secrets locked securely behind her seductive lips until a time she’d need to use them. A time when she called upon them instead, realizing only once it was far too late how much power a few words could hold when placed into their right hands.