forum you'll be sending me trash you should've left in the drafts (o/o, closed)

Started April 09, 2022 by Deleted user

tune

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Mina stared at him, and in that moment just gave up. He was too slippery to be made into a meal. Well, it wasn’t like she had much practice with live prey. Most of her victims were either asleep, already dead, or in some rare cases, chose freeze instead of fight or flight.
She transformed into a human. “Don’t call me that,” she said.

"What, darling? Is that really so… offensive?" somehow he'd slipped up behind Mina while she'd transformed, knife digging into her throat just enough for blood to bead at the surface. He then removed the knife, and allowed himself to recline back on her bed. "Listen, Fangs, I was just curious. You didn't have to get your knickers in a twist all over some human. I don't even think I'd count as a person at this point. So why the drama? It isn't a good image."

“You don’t know me.” Her voice was monotonous, and her eyes had returned to their green color as emotions left her. She barely noticed the knife, or the slice it made healing up.
“Don’t call me that either,” she said, turning around to face him. Then some emotion leaked back in, and her eyes began to water. “You don’t know me,” she said again.

Dorian noticed an in. "Oh, I know what this is about. I understand. I've lost people too. A man named Basil Hallward, probably the only man I every really loved. A bit older than me, but so sweet, and meant all too well in the end. He…" Dorian tried to think back to when the man was alive, and this made his eyes tear up a bit with the strain on his limited mind, which after decades of memories was having a hard time recalling. It did give the illusion of loss, of memory, of anguish at what could have been, though. "ah, yes. I was too innocent in those days, and he too hopeful. His death, I admit, shattered me." well, he had murdered the man, but Mina didn't need to know that for now.

Mina’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Cautiously, she nodded. He’d guessed correctly, after all. She was quiet, though. There had never been anyone she could talk to about these subjects before; it was too complicated for the wolves to truly understand.

"Do you want to talk to me about who you've lost? I promise, I'll listen. I do love the sound of my own voice, but only to a certain extent." he said, voice turning from mocking to anguished to now with this statement gentle, as he patted his side on the giant bed, which must have been so lonely to not be sharing with someone you loved.

She blinked, opened her mouth slightly. Nothing came out. Tears spilled out again. “I… she…” he voice was wobbly, barely audible. This was so strange. Letting out a shaky sigh, she turned away. “I need to do something,” she said, and walked out of the room.

He nodded. "As you wish, I'll be waiting here though." he said. He had all the time in the world, portrait safely tucked away at home where nobody would find it. "I'll be here for you, if you need me." he murmured.

She didn’t respond. The journey from the bedroom to the forest was a blur. The next thing she knew she was in the flower meadow, the moonlight washing everything in silvery blue light. It was a small clearing, filled with spike heath and yellow monkshood and alpine bells. Mina wandered through it, picking the ones she thought he’d like. There was a patch of small ones with beautiful, spidery white petals. She picked out a few, and after collecting enough to make a small bouquet in her arms, she crossed over to the other side of the meadow. Her love was waiting for her among the trees.

Dorian managed to fall asleep in that time, however, with both eyes open for this occasion. Any movement, he’d pick up. And he’d be ready, should Mina choose to betray him. His chest didn’t rise and fall as he slept, he didn’t technically need to breathe anymore and he forgot to when asleep, doing it when awake only out of habit. He looked like a dead thing.

He waited for her, deep in the ground, covered by overturned earth. A wooden cross was planted above him at the head, and older, some dead flowers were blanketed around it and his resting place. A necklace hung from the cross as well, and his diary, along with his engagement ring, sat at its base.
Mina quietly drew near. She had gone into the nearby river to wash off any blood, so now she was clean except for the somewhat faded stain on her nightgown. After sprinkling some petals and setting the new flowers around him, she laid herself down.
“Hello,” she whispered. Her eyes went glassy. She saw nothing. “I miss you.” A lump formed in her throat. They were both dead, but she could not rest like he could. “I’m sorry.” Tears slipped from her eyes, but they were cold. She did not stir as fireflies and moths landed on her, curious about this dead, weeping thing. “I love you.” She was awash in memories, memories she knew were real, because they were good and lovely and from a past she could never get back. They were good and lovely and yet horrible and wretched and regretful. Being in his arms, receiving his letters, eating with him. The kisses, the hands in his or her hair, the touches to the waist or the shoulder. The letter. The letter, stained with blood. The figure, holding him like a slab of meat as it bent down and—
Her eyes burned red. She did not think anymore. To do so would be dangerous. The tears flowed like waterfalls, and her body shook with silent sobs. Some of the moths fluttered away. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down, to curb the pain coursing through her.
She stayed like that for a while. Soon blood dripped from her hand. The few moths came back and started drinking from it. Then her eyes faded to green. Numbness returned. Perhaps even calmness. She stopped biting, released her hand. “I love you.”
Carefully, slowly, she stood. The insects flew away, but some came back like wandering children. She moved away, her attention moved to the moths on her hand.
“Oh, don’t do that, loves, you’ll…” One by one, the little winged creatures expired and fell from her hand. She sighed, and let the earth bury them. The others knew not to get close to her hand now, but they still rested on or flew around her. She made her way back to the castle.

(Oh I have a question. How old are they exactly at this point?)

(Probably Dorian would be in his like 40s-early 50s?? Idk??)

(Oof kinda made myself cry for a sec)

(Oh nooo!!)

He waited for her, deep in the ground, covered by overturned earth. A wooden cross was planted above him at the head, and older, some dead flowers were blanketed around it and his resting place. A necklace hung from the cross as well, and his diary, along with his engagement ring, sat at its base.
Mina quietly drew near. She had gone into the nearby river to wash off any blood, so now she was clean except for the somewhat faded stain on her nightgown. After sprinkling some petals and setting the new flowers around him, she laid herself down.
“Hello,” she whispered. Her eyes went glassy. She saw nothing. “I miss you.” A lump formed in her throat. They were both dead, but she could not rest like he could. “I’m sorry.” Tears slipped from her eyes, but they were cold. She did not stir as fireflies and moths landed on her, curious about this dead, weeping thing. “I love you.” She was awash in memories, memories she knew were real, because they were good and lovely and from a past she could never get back. They were good and lovely and yet horrible and wretched and regretful. Being in his arms, receiving his letters, eating with him. The kisses, the hands in his or her hair, the touches to the waist or the shoulder. The letter. The letter, stained with blood. The figure, holding him like a slab of meat as it bent down and—
Her eyes burned red. She did not think anymore. To do so would be dangerous. The tears flowed like waterfalls, and her body shook with silent sobs. Some of the moths fluttered away. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down, to curb the pain coursing through her.
She stayed like that for a while. Soon blood dripped from her hand. The few moths came back and started drinking from it. Then her eyes faded to green. Numbness returned. Perhaps even calmness. She stopped biting, released her hand. “I love you.”
Carefully, slowly, she stood. The insects flew away, but some came back like wandering children. She moved away, her attention moved to the moths on her hand.
“Oh, don’t do that, loves, you’ll…” One by one, the little winged creatures expired and fell from her hand. She sighed, and let the earth bury them. The others knew not to get close to her hand now, but they still rested on or flew around her. She made her way back to the castle.

Dorian eventually got bored of resting, Mina had been hours and he didn't technically need sleep to function as lovely of a luxury as it was. He got up, began to root through her things, finding piles of diaries filled up with decades worth of experience to look through. He began to read, they were obviously Mina's and he was sure they'd contain answers, if only he could find them.

If Dorian looked long enough, he would notice that the oldest diary, which was frayed and the pages yellowed, stopped abruptly somewhere near the end. The date was too muddled from age to make out, but the next oldest diary started some twenty years ago.

Mina really, really hoped that the immortal human had left. Well, that was a lie. She didn’t particularly care about him, but it would be nice if he left her alone.
Sadly, that was not the case. When she came back to her room, he was still there.
“What are you doing?” She asked. There was still a single moth left on her. It was a small, brown thing that crawled along her shoulder.

Dorian looked to Mina. "Snooping around, of course. I take it you had a nice picnic or some other sentimental shit out in the woods? You're filthy." he picked up the oldest diary, reading from somewhere near the end. "I have searched endlessly for a cure, but van Helsing tells me it is impossible." he began, then read silently further. "Were you truly this suicidal? Never mind." he said, shrugging. "It's probably none of my business anyways."