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tamingthemuse2006-10-07 12:19 pm
sunnyd-lite.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2006-10-07 12:19 pm
Entry tags:
Wk 13- Waking Up
Title: Waking Up
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: BtVS and AtS Sn 2
Rating: Teen
Pairing: hmm hints of Darla/Angel
Prompt: Bait and Switch
Words: 855
Summary: Darla makes plans
Feedback and Concrit: Go for it!
A/N: This is a little different. I'm trying an experimental style; hope it works!
She woke up to an unfamiliar sound.
She woke up
to the rapid tempo of her heart beat.
Her heart was beating.
It hadn't done that for over three hundred years.
She woke up.
She could feel her brow draw together as she thought. The last thing she'd seen...
Angel
had dusted her.
But she woke up with a heartbeat.
After Angel had dusted her to save the chubby virgin. A Slayer.
She willed her true face forward.
Heartbeat –– not a vamp anymore.
* * * *
The claw-like fingers held her chin in a vise as they twisted it this way and that.
"Good skin. Nice color in her cheeks. Blonde, blue eyes."
The crone must have seen something in those eyes.
"Is she plagued by temper? That we can not abide, if men wished a shrew they would remain at home with their wives."
She'd been a maid in the Mayor's house, but they'd found the Mayor's son raping her. Clearly she was the one in disgrace as she must have led him from the paths of righteousness. One of the Mayor's more enterprising servants escorted her here, the only establishment that would hire her now. She let innocence seep into her eyes. Hiding true feelings was an old trick.
"That's better. Mind your place; from here there is only the witch's stool."
And thus she fed the rage that warmed her through the colony's long winters –– a coat she pulled on as the clients pulled off her dress.
Until one decided he liked the fire
and she woke up
without a heartbeat.
With a thirst for blood and libido intact.
From whore to princess.
And all she had to do was die,
and wake up.
************
"And may I present Darla; as you can see my trip to the colonies was not unprofitable." She curtseyed, careful of the new gown he'd had made for her. His European court had turned their own dressmaker and tailor, much more convenient and there were no worries about shop hours.
The Master had introduced her around the height of society in London, Paris, Budapest. As a colonist, her occasional social faux pas were excusable, but she was soon able to ride the nuances of polite society. Think one thing; say another. It wasn't that different from her former profession.
The Master praised her abilities to lure both the young and the very, very, pretty to his feasts. He no longer relished the hunt, preferring the Byzantine power games of the Courts, both human and vampire, but he did have a sweet tooth.
He also praised her inventive torture of those who displeased him. She was careful not to let him see the rage that propelled those tortures, which became more and more creative as she saw Luke being groomed to be her Master's right hand. Luke whose oratory style was as ornate and as boring as a minister's. Luke, who may have known the old ways, but did not keep up with the new changes. Luke, who was her rival for the Master's favors and power.
Luke, whom she could neither kill nor even slight.
Many came for the entertainment her punishments provided. She became a darling, the talk of the vampire world. Until Luke suggested that maybe her enthusiasm was unseemly. Before that rumor could start circulating, she begged leave to travel, promising to bring back to the Master a truly worthy heir. She knew no one would be better than herself, but hers was not the face that the misogynistic Master would look to. She needed a puppet of her own.
She found him.
A drunkard, but a very very pretty licentious drunkard. If he was to be her pawn, he must be easy on her eyes and entertaining in her bed. For so long her skills were to please her partners. The one she sired was to please herself.
So she killed him.
And he woke up,
with a thirst for blood and libido intact.
She named him Angelus. And let him see behind her mask.
And together, they set the vampire world on fire.
Until he woke up,
with a soul,
and the heavy chains of guilt and remorse. A fine look for a poet. Useless in a vampire.
Devastating to her plans.
And Angel never truly understood her.
She never admitted how that loss hurt.
But now she's woken up,
with a heartbeat.
With allies.
With the rage still burning within her.
And, as always, she has a plan.
A way to torture Angel and get Angelus back.
Angel liked to save the damsel in distress.
She'd always traded on the frailty of her looks. Only Angelus saw the steel beneath.
Angel always forgot.
She'd wandered the twilight world of questionable legality since her first time with a heartbeat. She knew the term bait and switch.
She lived it. She was it.
When all went according to plan, Angelus would be her sire.
And she would wake up,
without a heartbeat.
With a thirst for blood and her libido intact.
And together they would set the vampire world on fire.
-fin-
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: BtVS and AtS Sn 2
Rating: Teen
Pairing: hmm hints of Darla/Angel
Prompt: Bait and Switch
Words: 855
Summary: Darla makes plans
Feedback and Concrit: Go for it!
A/N: This is a little different. I'm trying an experimental style; hope it works!
She woke up to an unfamiliar sound.
She woke up
to the rapid tempo of her heart beat.
Her heart was beating.
It hadn't done that for over three hundred years.
She woke up.
She could feel her brow draw together as she thought. The last thing she'd seen...
Angel
had dusted her.
But she woke up with a heartbeat.
After Angel had dusted her to save the chubby virgin. A Slayer.
She willed her true face forward.
Heartbeat –– not a vamp anymore.
* * * *
The claw-like fingers held her chin in a vise as they twisted it this way and that.
"Good skin. Nice color in her cheeks. Blonde, blue eyes."
The crone must have seen something in those eyes.
"Is she plagued by temper? That we can not abide, if men wished a shrew they would remain at home with their wives."
She'd been a maid in the Mayor's house, but they'd found the Mayor's son raping her. Clearly she was the one in disgrace as she must have led him from the paths of righteousness. One of the Mayor's more enterprising servants escorted her here, the only establishment that would hire her now. She let innocence seep into her eyes. Hiding true feelings was an old trick.
"That's better. Mind your place; from here there is only the witch's stool."
And thus she fed the rage that warmed her through the colony's long winters –– a coat she pulled on as the clients pulled off her dress.
Until one decided he liked the fire
and she woke up
without a heartbeat.
With a thirst for blood and libido intact.
From whore to princess.
And all she had to do was die,
and wake up.
************
"And may I present Darla; as you can see my trip to the colonies was not unprofitable." She curtseyed, careful of the new gown he'd had made for her. His European court had turned their own dressmaker and tailor, much more convenient and there were no worries about shop hours.
The Master had introduced her around the height of society in London, Paris, Budapest. As a colonist, her occasional social faux pas were excusable, but she was soon able to ride the nuances of polite society. Think one thing; say another. It wasn't that different from her former profession.
The Master praised her abilities to lure both the young and the very, very, pretty to his feasts. He no longer relished the hunt, preferring the Byzantine power games of the Courts, both human and vampire, but he did have a sweet tooth.
He also praised her inventive torture of those who displeased him. She was careful not to let him see the rage that propelled those tortures, which became more and more creative as she saw Luke being groomed to be her Master's right hand. Luke whose oratory style was as ornate and as boring as a minister's. Luke, who may have known the old ways, but did not keep up with the new changes. Luke, who was her rival for the Master's favors and power.
Luke, whom she could neither kill nor even slight.
Many came for the entertainment her punishments provided. She became a darling, the talk of the vampire world. Until Luke suggested that maybe her enthusiasm was unseemly. Before that rumor could start circulating, she begged leave to travel, promising to bring back to the Master a truly worthy heir. She knew no one would be better than herself, but hers was not the face that the misogynistic Master would look to. She needed a puppet of her own.
She found him.
A drunkard, but a very very pretty licentious drunkard. If he was to be her pawn, he must be easy on her eyes and entertaining in her bed. For so long her skills were to please her partners. The one she sired was to please herself.
So she killed him.
And he woke up,
with a thirst for blood and libido intact.
She named him Angelus. And let him see behind her mask.
And together, they set the vampire world on fire.
Until he woke up,
with a soul,
and the heavy chains of guilt and remorse. A fine look for a poet. Useless in a vampire.
Devastating to her plans.
And Angel never truly understood her.
She never admitted how that loss hurt.
But now she's woken up,
with a heartbeat.
With allies.
With the rage still burning within her.
And, as always, she has a plan.
A way to torture Angel and get Angelus back.
Angel liked to save the damsel in distress.
She'd always traded on the frailty of her looks. Only Angelus saw the steel beneath.
Angel always forgot.
She'd wandered the twilight world of questionable legality since her first time with a heartbeat. She knew the term bait and switch.
She lived it. She was it.
When all went according to plan, Angelus would be her sire.
And she would wake up,
without a heartbeat.
With a thirst for blood and her libido intact.
And together they would set the vampire world on fire.
-fin-
no subject
I adore how you look at all the variations on waking up... and this characterization of Darla is just so perfectly Darla. I love background on her because the show really never did her justice.
no subject
no subject
repeating the lines made it almost lyrical.
no subject
no subject
The repetition of the concept of waking up provided a very effective 'frame' for the history, and the repetition of the phrases was very effective.
There were a lot of nice phrases, actually. I particularly liked: the heavy chains of guilt and remorse. A fine look for a poet. Useless in a vampire. It made me laugh that she compared Angel to William.
no subject