A few of the mortals left early. Cars came and took them away. I think they were glad to depart. Some humans take to the vampires and come back frequently. They like the talk. They like the atmosphere. It's probably therapy for them. Maybe they want to kill? But most never come back. Most try and forget. The movie industry contingent is like that. Some think it's the thing to do, so they come. Buy a whole bunch of somber black outfits. Not just black. Some buy dark violet, gray, or hunter green too. Nice suede boots. This is just a diversion for them.
Those souls left are all down in the great hall. 'King' Rafe gives a talk. It's his thing. Really like a gimmick. He has this ability to cause a 'voice' to spring forth from the ether through a point just in front of his face. Sometimes he sits there with a grin. Sometimes he's expressionless. But the voice always has a muffled, distant, metallic sound to it. Makes people feel cold. But they listen, because he's rich in years and exceptionally powerful. Not like Papa, or, dare I say, the Lady Renate, yet strong enough. And it never makes sense. More like talking in tongues. Some say it's a seminal dialect of Vahmperigo, akin to ancient Basque. But they're just guessing. One year he 'said' 'Klactu borada nicto' over and over for perhaps three thousand, two hundred and forty heartbeats. Vampires just sat there, staring into space, afraid to move. Once he transformed a supposedly disrespectful vampirino into an earthworm. No, not an earthworm. A blood-worm, I think it was. And he never brought him back. So now he exists, crawling through the mud, for all eternity, or whatever does actually constitute eternity in el mundo vampirido. I don't know what he's mumbling. sometimes it sounds like a prayer. But I don't know who he's praying to.
The space is dark. Not all dark, but almost. The fires are banked down. A headless, female harpist provides soft, harmonious chords in the shadows. No, this one is not the same one as Tomas and Sarah had upstairs, I believe he has a few of them.... captured daughters of a long dead king. Don't know where he keeps the heads.
But it's like he's commanding some poor, impressionable life-eater to come forth for a 'release.' 'King' Rafe likes a good sublimation, he does. Some try to melt back into the shadows, only that's impossible, because the dogs are here. The huge hounds silently pad 'round, pausing in front of whoever tries to be most inconspicuous. So most just sit there, breathing evenly and waiting for it to be over.
A lone vampirino from Croatia clears his throat. Vampires don't get phlegm, so they know he wants to speak. Then he says three words --- I seek release... 'King' Rafe positively claps and giggles like a little girl, as a tongueless functionary takes the 'young' man's hand and leads him toward destruction.
He stands inside the inlaid, bronze circle and looks down. 'King' Rafe says - Who frees this soul?...And another vampirino of indeterminate nationality, stands up . All eyes fall upon him, as he scrapes back his chair and walks toward the spot, never slowing, never hesitating, nor swerving to the left, or to the right. Then he locks eyes with the victim, whispers 'Forgive me,' and sublimates right through him.
Now, as Mister Never-you-Mind said last night, the one doing the walking cuts the still and quiet one to shreds. I don't know why the magic works that way. But it does. Fortunately, the vampirino of indeterminate nationality was a big man, so no part of the 'young' Croatian remained intact. And his body held its form for perhaps six heartbeats, before raining down onto the cold stones.
'King' Rafe went - 'Awwwww.' But all could tell he was quite pleased. No one moved, as the dogs lapped up the mess.
Then drinks were served. Icy, thick bottomed, glasses of Grey Goose, I think it was. They switch it up. The headless, long dead king's daughter played a song.... 'We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.' ....
After that it was over and everyone prepared to leave. Annie stayed close to Tomas. She whispered - I don't think I like these vampires..... Tomas kissed the top of her head and guided her out through the commodious vestabule and toward the waiting limousine. Sarah, Baylah, Edith and wilkravitz followed.
All their things were already stowed inside and so they left. No one said much, as they slid through the cold, North country night, on the road to London.
Other night-folk did the same, leaving 'King' Rafe all alone. The hearths were cold. The wide expanse was dark, save for weak and silvery beams dancing in through small clerestory windows set high up, under the eaves.
And he threw out his arms and danced, til all the enchanted furnishings and what-nots, conjured especially for THE REVELS evaporated into the gloom and disappeared.
After that, he simply walked into the ether and vanished. I don't know what happened to the tongueless functionaries. I really don't.
But the old, great, venerable 'house' went back to its ruined state and slept.
While somewhere up above, a lonely harp still played..
Adieu, from THE VAMPIRE REVELS...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this is the last night to vote. please tweet this on TWITTER... I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of (kindly say something nice)...... thank you.
Those souls left are all down in the great hall. 'King' Rafe gives a talk. It's his thing. Really like a gimmick. He has this ability to cause a 'voice' to spring forth from the ether through a point just in front of his face. Sometimes he sits there with a grin. Sometimes he's expressionless. But the voice always has a muffled, distant, metallic sound to it. Makes people feel cold. But they listen, because he's rich in years and exceptionally powerful. Not like Papa, or, dare I say, the Lady Renate, yet strong enough. And it never makes sense. More like talking in tongues. Some say it's a seminal dialect of Vahmperigo, akin to ancient Basque. But they're just guessing. One year he 'said' 'Klactu borada nicto' over and over for perhaps three thousand, two hundred and forty heartbeats. Vampires just sat there, staring into space, afraid to move. Once he transformed a supposedly disrespectful vampirino into an earthworm. No, not an earthworm. A blood-worm, I think it was. And he never brought him back. So now he exists, crawling through the mud, for all eternity, or whatever does actually constitute eternity in el mundo vampirido. I don't know what he's mumbling. sometimes it sounds like a prayer. But I don't know who he's praying to.
The space is dark. Not all dark, but almost. The fires are banked down. A headless, female harpist provides soft, harmonious chords in the shadows. No, this one is not the same one as Tomas and Sarah had upstairs, I believe he has a few of them.... captured daughters of a long dead king. Don't know where he keeps the heads.
But it's like he's commanding some poor, impressionable life-eater to come forth for a 'release.' 'King' Rafe likes a good sublimation, he does. Some try to melt back into the shadows, only that's impossible, because the dogs are here. The huge hounds silently pad 'round, pausing in front of whoever tries to be most inconspicuous. So most just sit there, breathing evenly and waiting for it to be over.
A lone vampirino from Croatia clears his throat. Vampires don't get phlegm, so they know he wants to speak. Then he says three words --- I seek release... 'King' Rafe positively claps and giggles like a little girl, as a tongueless functionary takes the 'young' man's hand and leads him toward destruction.
He stands inside the inlaid, bronze circle and looks down. 'King' Rafe says - Who frees this soul?...And another vampirino of indeterminate nationality, stands up . All eyes fall upon him, as he scrapes back his chair and walks toward the spot, never slowing, never hesitating, nor swerving to the left, or to the right. Then he locks eyes with the victim, whispers 'Forgive me,' and sublimates right through him.
Now, as Mister Never-you-Mind said last night, the one doing the walking cuts the still and quiet one to shreds. I don't know why the magic works that way. But it does. Fortunately, the vampirino of indeterminate nationality was a big man, so no part of the 'young' Croatian remained intact. And his body held its form for perhaps six heartbeats, before raining down onto the cold stones.
'King' Rafe went - 'Awwwww.' But all could tell he was quite pleased. No one moved, as the dogs lapped up the mess.
Then drinks were served. Icy, thick bottomed, glasses of Grey Goose, I think it was. They switch it up. The headless, long dead king's daughter played a song.... 'We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.' ....
After that it was over and everyone prepared to leave. Annie stayed close to Tomas. She whispered - I don't think I like these vampires..... Tomas kissed the top of her head and guided her out through the commodious vestabule and toward the waiting limousine. Sarah, Baylah, Edith and wilkravitz followed.
All their things were already stowed inside and so they left. No one said much, as they slid through the cold, North country night, on the road to London.
Other night-folk did the same, leaving 'King' Rafe all alone. The hearths were cold. The wide expanse was dark, save for weak and silvery beams dancing in through small clerestory windows set high up, under the eaves.
And he threw out his arms and danced, til all the enchanted furnishings and what-nots, conjured especially for THE REVELS evaporated into the gloom and disappeared.
After that, he simply walked into the ether and vanished. I don't know what happened to the tongueless functionaries. I really don't.
But the old, great, venerable 'house' went back to its ruined state and slept.
While somewhere up above, a lonely harp still played..
Adieu, from THE VAMPIRE REVELS...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this is the last night to vote. please tweet this on TWITTER... I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of (kindly say something nice)...... thank you.