Facing the ghostly music [Closed]

[Damia]

[OOC Note: A few others have responded to this and Ill put their replies on here..unless they wish to heh >> Otherwise its closed until a certain point.]

Part 1::The soloist:


Time in theory never stopped. It paused, it skipped sections and on some days
simply held on tight to its congregation inside while outside the sun rose and
set.

For the vampiress and now dead woman in spirit as well, where she had ended up
had not been hell nor heaven. Instead it was a void. Where random events popped
up and held her attention but only for so long. As if time had no idea what to
do with her. The voices of previous she still heard, and she had to deal with
the cloaked lady of before. Who instead of speaking, said nothing. The good
thing though, was that nothing was felt. Nothing could be and everything that if
she had been back alive, would have stung her, hid itself in the numbness that
contained her fractured spirit.

In this jar of simplicity, her previous actions could be disregarded and the now
focused on. Letting a lady who rarely had had such easy times take a permanent
break. She had no wish to return, due more to the sweet feeling of nothing then
anything else.

The only discontent now felt, was that every moment she was watched. The cloaked
lady, once a comrade in a previous era, now a tool of the fates, stayed by her
side. If she had lost intelligence when she had killed herself, she might have
regarded this without a wonder or thought. But instead, she had curious
moment of understanding that they had no idea what to do with her. And as time
passed different in all areas, whoever this they were, took their time in
thinking.

During all this, she puttered away at various tasks. Involving strange items to
find, and in one case, sewing..a spiritual kind of energy up. In a weird way,
she had gone back to being a Victorian lady with nothing to do except minor
distractions.

Yet this thinking without emotion, was to her mind, a small perfection gained.
It kept the glaring faults of her last moments in the city from prodding a
conscience that would have been heart broken, soul shattered and plain guilty to
a low murmur of confusion.

Her surroundings, even in the same vein were concrete walls holding only
tapestries. The theme being that the spirit held here must think. And yet no
thoughts of importance showed themselves nor any other visitors.

Various images of the former life, still tended to pass through the mind, trying
so hard to keep the veil it had been gifted with. Each image had some precious
sentiment, again usually not felt. But in the lateness of passing moments, it
had seemed more and more that images of the life were coming quicker. Bits and
pieces of faces and still pictures to rip small holes into the clinging numb.

Even as this was noticed, the head would turn to her companion with a sharp
look, even for the dead. And the companion, still cloaked, still silent, never
replied to these thoughts as once might have. Instead a look was given back, one
that said clearly sooner or later someone would decide what to do with her. And
whoever that might be, might not be so indulgent as now. Even this look provoked
no emotion, or even a sound response.

Fingers resumed, while notes of various melodies played in her mind. Music, a
constant in any universe remained. She did like to imagine that she had some
control of that, but truth even being pushed to a small corner, would prod the
realization that this place for the other inhabitants who belonged here, changed
its own tune on its accord.

The only verse added on, was her solo of solitary confinement welcomed after a
long life.

:Soloist:

[Damia]

Part 2: A Touch of Dissonance

The following fluid time passed seemingly slow. Here and there the cloaked woman
would disappear or simply vanish like smoke, only to return what felt like a
short time later.

But something was now in the air. For now the cloaked woman stared red eyes of
disappointment at her, the emotion itself she read clearly, though what would
have been a confusion on her part did not come. Acceptance of this and all the
other quirks of this place was yet another piece of this concerto. This was not
the only change seen. Clear hazel eyes, always noted for being able to read
others clearly, noted that the room around her was changing. Furniture, chairs,
and even sounds were invading what had been her private space. As if a party
were being planned and she was a part of the fixtures watching the hub bub go
on. Pale and thin fingers paused in the act of writing, what she was writing was
simply empty words of no consequence anyway. Off kilter. This word fit as she
saw the cloaked lady vanish once more and then come back with what seemed to be
a small piece of something in her hand. Curiosity, the first striking feeling
she could say she had, slid in. A failing of hers in life and unlife, now served
to want to push her to speak. Something she had not done in the time of being
here. Resistance was easy, as her control was still evident and the feeling was
not strong. So back to writing words that meant nothing, as the cloaked woman
studied the piece and then her.

The final dissonance, was in fact the worst piece. In the little moments she
took to rest, not an actual sleep, but as if the spirit rested gently by
shutting down. A click, loud and firm was heard. Her eyes opened and on her
finger the cloaked lady had put a diamond ring. With this ring, came a
revelation. Two in fact.

First, They, again still nameless to her had made a decision.

Second she not only recognized this ring, but every emotion that had been held
back was now returned. A scream that was too deep to be felt and too loud to be
heard rushed around, shaking the paper thin energy that stood as her new home.
Betrayal clouded the hazel eyes as she looked back at the now uncloaked woman
and straight into orbs that sung a tune of resoluteness.

The soloist was no longer content, happy, or even solo. For with the emotions
came the wider knowledge of the former brief pictures that had been appearing in
her mind.

Instead, she was now the vampiress, who had destroyed herself in haste, leaving
everything she had cared for behind. But then when the soul cracks in half, it
had seemed so logical that it was her end. For she had known even as she knew
now, that nothing could recover her from the bonding that had been severed. Nor
the unhappiness she had caused. She who had always tried to fix everything, had
given up on the most important part of herself. And instead of working out what
had been her stupidity, if it even could have been worked out, had run away like
a stupid child. Leaving family and the few that had relied on her, in the dust.

The bitter taste of guilt and all the other strong emotions rushed around her
head. The ring, a spirit shaped like her wedding ring, shone clearly. The only
object she had left with her sire when she had walked into the sun.

Before she could wallow in the rest of this destructive reemergence, the
uncloaked lady spoke softly.

"Come, it is time. This decision was made a short while ago. There is no hiding
or running off from this. For even after death, choices must be made. And by
your choice, you now have to accept the consequences. Or in better words, the
bed you set on fire and tried to escape from."

She could have fought this, but there were no weapons in this realm, and why
play the foolish one again. Standing up, one hand holding the ring tightly as if
it would give her courage or protect her, hazel eyes now blazing alive with the
strong passions of her former life, looked directly into the calm red orbs. Her
voice soft as well.

"Very well."

She kept the reply simple, even as the questions of why and what now nibbled at
her thoughts. But truth could not be denied. She had escaped, all to well, and
evidently fate had decided that this was not part of the plan. Perhaps a task of
trying to give back to those she had harmed before her death was in order or
perhaps she would finally learn if there really was a hell.

"Stalling will get you no where Damia Morgan. Come along." With that the
uncloaked lady walked ahead, steps leading her quickly outside of the stone
room.

:Unmasked Soloist:
:Now of to the Tutti:

[Damia]

Part 3: A Coda A cappella

In most parts of dramatic movies as well as songs, this entire episode would have taken longer. Long pauses, a look back on ones life, perhaps even a farewell tear to herald the event that would change ones view of all. Except in this piece of music, there was none of this to be done. Her steps didn't even bother to echo as the unmasked soloist followed what was now going to be .. what her final judgment. Though in her old mind, now swiftly returning unfortunately. She had done that. To her eyes, while perhaps she had not been as guilty as perceived, there was no disguising the break of faith she had done. Though as if the excuse was ready to well up once more, it had meant nothing floated through her mind. So she had done what felt right to her sense of standards. Which during that time had not been the most calmest of areas. Clarity, a small wind that blew through the big trees of guilt and broken pieces, whispered a few more sentences to her. As in any crisis she had or used to be one that could be relied on to present the facts calmly. And in this, not a crisis but still not a joy, there was one question to consider. Why was punishment, even if deserved, given to one who had done the punishment herself.

Perhaps they pondered that once all the scenes had taken place, she should have just lived with herself after stupidity or taken her life later. But surely this was a choice all human or vampire were allowed to choose. For weren't they the ones outside of the normal cycle of birth and death? So why was her choice to leave a deal that needed consideration and a jury. An old style dress settled around her as the one in front of her kept moving even as words started to flow.

"You imagine yourself as the ultimate authority on life? You who bound to a demon, led what could be a charmed life among monsters and tried to help others as if you were the rich giving to the poor. You who left your family, deserting children you promised to stay by forever, as well as a sire who you gave up so much for you, only to run away at a simple test. That of character. Which, if I had an essence to laugh with, was less then many other tasks you have faced. Perhaps it is that you imagined yourself in such control over the gift of immortality and yet no one, is truly in that position. Perhaps a fitting punishment is the cloister you held with such ease, and lack of emotion. But to mine and other eyes, it is a simply case of one more easy street taken. And tonight the easy street just ended in a dark alley. For vampire, there is one thing you had yet to know or learn. To run is easy, to stay is harder. And staying you shall do now."

With each sentence spoken swiftly, cutting into the numb parachute that was slipping away, the smart mind grasped the meaning at once. The emotions took a moment to catch up as once more silence was just a cover for a body dealing with blind jagged edges of pain. A fault of hers to speak, but if this decision were already made then her words made no difference now.

"You are right. I do not deny this, nor do I beg forgiveness or even seek to excuse my actions. But if I am to understand you correctly.."

Silence descended once more as she was no longer following the uncloaked woman. Nor was she in a realm of spirit anymore. Instead she was sitting firmly on her bruised ass in the middle of a dark alley. With a parchment in her hands. The language was not current, but it seemed they who dished out the punishment had allowed her to be able to read it fluently. A few symbols and one big meaning later, left Damia Morgan, unmasked soloist up shit creek without a paddle. For her punishment was not any making up or observing. Instead she was now stuck in the city she had left, and if she tried as "they" so called her last stunt of instant death. It would not work. Nothing would. Short of chopping herself up into pieces and burning each piece, while some how managing to avoid the eye of ones who seemed to see all. She was here for good. Oh and it seemed in the cosmic sense of humor she was naked. No explanation, nothing except a strange tattoo on her inner wrist of a circle with a bolt of lightening. And the known feeling that she was not welcome.

:Unmasked Soloist:
:Impromptu Elongated:
:Naked:

[Damia]

Part 4: Bloody Diamond Notes

Hazel eyes looked around, taking in the city of her heart. She wasn't sure what she was sitting on, nor did she care to find out. Even the fact that she was naked except for a diamond ring, was not important. For with this rebirth was the face of pain and memory. Her beginning, and of course the self chanced end.

Black hair cascaded over pale shoulders as her normal olive skin tone was almost white now. And as she looked down, she took in the fact that she was really back. Her fingers clenched around each other, as the empty feeling inside struck. For where a bond that had become her world had existed was now shards of glass bitterness. Though the link to her sire was still there, but she couldn't be sure that Arsanga, who had been fading away from the city before she had left, was even around now. Body empty of everything as the thirst struck. However long she had been gone, the hunger for blood was back with a vengeance. Almost on auto pilot, she stood up, leaning against the alley wall as weakness struck back. Too much, too fast. In defense she took a breath not needed to center herself. Bitter regrets would come back to haunt her later, but for now, she needed to concentrate on survival. Since she was not allowed to leave, logic dictated she find a way to pull herself together. Willpower, a thing she had once had in spades reared its head briefly, letting senses come back alive to find food. There. A bum dead asleep to the right. Still leaning against the wall, her body shivering due to the lack of food, she took a few steps, pausing to focus. Hazel eyes sharpened to spot the body laying on the ground. Not normally her favorite food, but this was no time for finicky food tastes. Her body collapsed next to the food as she bent over and almost ripped the throat out. Blood gushing into her mouth. Every taste shooting through her like shots of alcohol. The body was too soon empty and her body needed more. The little blood allowed to escape her mouth ran down her naked body. With more strength she stood up and walked to the end of the alley, uncaring of anything except the need for food. A block later she came across another human, some party goer. Uncaring of the looks, she dragged them into the alley with sheer need based power and proceeded to sink her fangs into their chest over the heart. Blood gushing, reviving her for a few more moments. Fighting to keep clarity for a little longer, she grabbed the jeans and shirt, throwing them on. Her voice echoing softly into the night as she talked out loud.

"Where to now, home sweet home says the wisdom but what if there is no home." Lips stretched into a thin line, she was unsure of who to call. Her eyes wandered over a street sign and recognition flared for another brief moment. It was not exactly a friend, but not an enemy. Which was perhaps the best she could wish for right now. Blood stuck to her shirt as barefoot she walked silently to the house she had once visited often. The only thing that might fit the now reborn vampiress was the ring on her finger. But even this was fittingly covered with Blood.

Barefooted steps took her over countless streets as she wandered to the house that she was unsure it even still owned by the former daughter. A few more steps more and a tight hand clasped to a rail, as the other hand knocked almost politely on the door itself. The eyes that had once beamed with personality, lay dull as she waited to see if their was an answer.


:Unmasked Soloist:
:Broken strings:

[Damia]

[Well there were replies to this, but I am changing it since I want to get more of the story out >>]


Part 5: Operatic Vibrations:

The thin hand knocked at the door, the noise barely making past said space as the railing was clutched. Black eyes stared out of stretched skin as she waited, with amounted to nothing more then sheer willpower. The cold did not bother, even barefoot, with bloody clothes, nothing was getting through the screams inside.

The hand lifted again to knock, and then she saw it, the bloody diamond ring, her prison and memory all in one. Others. She couldn't bare that now. Too much of who she was started to creep in, and most importantly what she had lost.

In times of war, it was said humans could through passionate belief, push themselves to do feats unknown to their kind before. It almost applied, the vampiress thought to herself. For pushing herself off the railing, away from the door and back onto the street. Bare feet having bits of street dust and clutter cling as body pushed itself with only the bits of spirit that were slowly coming back. Black eyes focused on little else except the ring. For inside that diamond, was her home. Her heart, her family, everything she had given up. Maybe that was why she was back. To realize that giving up had never been her way, hadn't she always before pushed through. And one stupid argument, had finally pushed the cracks that had always lay concealed within to the surface. She was needy, she knew this. Even in the numb state, she had clung to that very defense.

Flaws, she had so many of. Need, wants, desires. And for it seemed ages in the city, she had pushed herself to be selfless. To give, because not to give was wrong wasn't it? Each time some voice had risen with her name on lips, she had gone. Helped, made promises, tried to keep them. Most the time, failing. And watched as those promises had stacked up. Watching, a bigger failure perhaps. Her first lesson in the city, her last lesson as a human. Always watch. See the mood of the master and judge it ahead of time. Know when he might torment, know when he might strike. The same way she watched the city. Watched how it evolved, watched her clanmates, even family were judged by this. Sentenced. But then she tried to do it with love. Everything with kindness. And towards the end. She had gotten so tired of being kind. So tired of sitting back watching others make constant mistakes. Hadn't she played executioner on her brother. His crimes of using women, and the ego she really couldn't stand secretly, but had done nothing before to stop.

She had worked so hard to be what she thought she should be, that the only times she had let herself fufill her wants, was with her family...her love. She let her childre bring her joy and life, her love bring her oblivion of anything else. She had let herself be consumed, for those brief moments, that when realization hit that one of those fragile bonds that kept her from showing her flaws was cracked. She had given them all up. Her sire, her childre, her family.

Now she was back. To do what. The voice inside wanted to screamed, fists even now clenching with bits of anger, wanted to push out in that anger. But as always, the victorian lady, the one who had been born and never died as the human had, rose up. A chaste figure that forced her to remember that in the end, striking out first, was never her way. Watch, learn and become again.

She was just to tired to become anything now. To filled with the creations of broken pieces to concentrate on being that lady who listened to all, tried to speak kind works and somehow ended up wanting to much.

But in the end old habits were hard to break. And the only way she knew was through the polite lady. who tried to be a role model and helpful, even when inside she was crashing into flames.

:Unmasked Soloist:
:Broken Strings:
:Singing Bloody Diamond Notes Inside:

[Damia]

Part 6: Tempo in layers

The sky. Was the first thing to penetrate the flurry of emotions struggling to release inside of her. Another human had been reduced to food as bare feet made no sound on cracked cement. Dark, barely a star in sight, empty but filled to the brim with such that could not be seen. Never been expressed.

One hand clutched the ring, as if it might disappear, but then this was not the actual ring. Even she knew that, beneath layers of fogged thoughts and self hatred. That ring, the symbol of eternity with him, lay with her sire, wherever her sire chose to be. For when the last cover of darkness had faded, she had handed it to her, not money, not clothes, nothing material except that. Knowing her sire would hold it safely for her. A brief touch found the emptiness of a sires touch, but then this was no surprise. Things had been rocky for her sire, before she had chosen to .. leave. Now, they were probably expanded to worse horizons.

Soft violin music, played from some darkened house on the street she was walking, moonlight sonato for a evening with no moon. That phrase seemed to fit her being right now. For the practical told her that she was not all together. Reborn, yes, but not complete. Not in any shape or form near what she had been. But then she truly hadn't planned on coming back. Thanks to some judgment, she was back, not ready, not willing, but still returned. The notes of the music seemed to surround her, unwilling to let her forget for a moment, now that food was running through her system. The mind grew stronger with re-found memories.

It had always struck the vampiress as funny, that the first moment she had met him, she had disliked him. Oh not true disgusted dislike, that she held for a few. No just unknowing dislike. For the clash of personalities, between two strong willed immortals, both trying to help their sires lead a family and clan, well the battle had been enacted. A silent contest. Her joke mocking of his being just a warrior, his edged thrusts of her peaceful nature. With her previous two companions, she had simply known she cared, and slipped in so easy to that space waiting for her. Never having to fight, no sparks, just endless amounts of love. Which was perhaps why she had not understood the raw lust that had come with him. Nor the need to be around him, even as they fought their silent battle. Soon enough they had become friends, for the middle ground, was that they both cared for family. They both wanted the survival more then they needed for themselves.

Unfortunately. A shake of head as the next memories struck her. A shame that still lingered even if dulled over time. For in her heart, she was an honorable being, holding to the end of time on confidences, never letting another down. But then swift arrows of cupids had made her do what she had never done before. Break her word. To one who had deserved better. She had fought it, the intense feelings, the bonds that just kept binding her and Belzebub tighter. No one knew more then her sire who had silently watched and lent her support, how she had tried. A long vacation here, a step away from him there. For they were bound, two vampires eternally bound to innocent parties, and she was not one to break a blood bond easily. They had both fought it, for he was no less honor bound then she, but in the end, all the fights had led to the same ending. A new entwined song. Oh it was so easy to cover it up later, to convince herself that no one, including that innocent companion had ever made her feel that way. But that did not change facts. Even in accepting the aftermath, an apology endlessly stuck in her throat, had not made it right for either of them.

A blackberry bush snagged at the bloody shirt, catching simple cloth and tearing pieces of it away. The hand whittled down to mere tight flesh over bone, untagged it as hazel eyes stared into the past. From that moment on, it had been the two of them. Tightly bound, in ways that passed even her experience. At times, she could remember now that she had been frightened at the need that had swept them up. For no other existed to either. Where he was, she was not far behind, and where she traveled, he would always find her. Even the arguments, intense, heated, explosions that rocked rooms and bodies, did nothing to cool them down. Two years of that passion, perhaps the cracks had been riding the surface to close. For by the end of the first year, she had known there was no one else for her. Fear, had lingered. But then she had never told him that. Never expressed what she felt that second year. Her fear that she was so consumed by him, that his even threatening to leave her, might be enough to shatter her completely. And her fear had done what one stupid argument should not have. Broken them both. For her demon was not the usual male of the city, able to over look a companions emotions. He had felt her indecision, but instead of her explanation being forthcoming, she had been silent. So he had assumed the worst, and in her need to prove that it was not a loss of love just a silly fear of that loss, all hell had broke loose. The arguments had raged for days, felt by all around them. By the end of it, she was finished. There was nothing left in her to fight the obvious. But hindsight was always twenty-twenty. Always so fucking perfect. Now she knew, now she understood what the cause was, at the time she had been so angry that he would take a stupid past mistake and not accept her words, that she had let the conclusion end. Instead of taking a moment to calm down, and realize that she had helped this fight, this ending. Forgetting that she was better at analyzing others then herself, espicially given the pain filled moments.

She was a fool, and he had been less of one. But both assumptions had broken down what other immortals had tried and failed. Now she was back. To fix that, she had no idea. No clue as to what she was to do now. Check on her family might be the first clue, but too much was still lingering from before. In this single night, she wanted a little forgetfulness. She deserved the numb state of before. So the next bar sign she passed, her steps altered inside of it. Edging towards the back, a pause at the bar as multiple drinks were ordered for the back table, before the respectable lady some might not recognize in the dreary bar light, proceeded to drown herself in bloodwhiskey, and a hard rock tempo that cause her head to shut out the memories replacing them instead with bloody notes.

:Unmasked Soloist:
:Screaming Bloody Notes outloud:
: Drunk:

[Damia]

Part 7: The fat lady singing

In all walks of life, it was a joke. That everything went on fine until the fat lady sung and then it was sure to end...badly. Or that was the implied. In this case, it was a lone bar singer, cracking a weird musical version of what sounded like "Achey breaky heart" though done in a rock star fashion. The empty cups surrounded her in the corner as eyes still to empty peered out. But then alcohol hadn't affected her since her days in AA forge. Each cup was lifted, and then downed, leaving only the protests of weary bartenders to fill the air, though those were soon ignored or smashed out.

As the robust lady sang, the quote ran through her head, making lips curve up just the barest amount. There was nothing more to be done to her now. She had lost everything, even as the phoenix she had once loved had burned to ashes. On the flip side, she still had a few childre, those who hadn't been angered by her sudden departure. But there were friends and family who she expected would not be so happy. Yet none of that reached her. For the alcohol had warmed the blood even if haziness was not the gift given. The diamond still bloody sparkled. Reminding. Taunting.

And then as the song ended, another feeling reared its head. Softer, a whisper compared to the raised voices of anger, guilt and the usual broken heart. Survival. Had she not always made her way, even when the day seemed bleak. True she had broken a vow not to come back, even if not by her own will. But in this situation there were two options. Chop herself into tiny bits and see if that would kill her. Or move on. She would never be whole again, for he had been a piece of her soul and heart. But, maybe there was a place for her. Hidden. Fingers tapped on the surface as all other boiling points were shoved away. Eternity was available to forget..or at least dull the shattered pieces of self. Perhaps it was the warmed blood, that sent a desperate sense of hope, but maybe it was the memories that she had lost everything too many times to be a quitter. It would not be easy, nor did she expect it to be. But if she had done the necessary motions before her rash give in and die, it still would not have been easier.

The diamond drew her gaze as the sparkle intensified for a moment. The face of the lady appearing. Nameless, but ever the face of an old friend. Another whisper filling her head.

"Easy is for those weak of spirit. And you were never that Damia Morgan. This is why you were sent back, to remember. To deal. For each of the past times you came to us, asking for help, you never accepted the final peace we offered, and that was respected. But the last time, you gave up on yourself, expecting our offer to still be the same. In the end, it is choices that define your punishment or results. And the final result here was that you forgot all others in face of weak selfishness. This must be rectified before you come back. How. Well that will be determined later."

The cloaked lady vanished as always, leaving the sense of frustration behind. For questions were raised without answers. Yet, her path before had been so easily determined, and nothing worth fighting for should be that easy. Even if in the last moment, every single fight she now did was lost, at least she knew her awaiting place. Even if it was alone. Ever the soloist, never the duelist.

Damia Morgan O' Cionaioth Moordenaar
:Soloist:
:Fat lady has sung: