214 ficlet (Drusilla, R)
Mar. 18th, 2011 10:29 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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still_grrrTitle Running Red
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating R - bloody vampire activity below the cut
Word Count c300
Prompt 214 Egyptian mythology – Sakhmet, in the tale 'The Destruction of Mankind'
Characters/Pairing (if any) Drusilla, Darla, Angelus
A/N: Set vaguely after Drusilla has been turned, call it about 1870. In some part of Eastern Europe that didn't have journalists…
The townspeople tried to fight back. Angelus didn't appreciate that kind of behaviour. They should have been grateful he let them live. (Most of them. Well, some of them. Though not, it turned out, for long.)
He considered a spectacular revenge. Something public and baroque was planned; a tableau of defilement. But in the end, Angelus found it more amusing to let his kitten loose on them.
Little Dru didn't take to their rebellion. She exacted a terrible price from the townspeople. Not mere bites, screams and tearing. No, she shredded and burned meticulously, implacably. Slashed the eyeballs out of ancient dames; split the bellies of babies, impartial in her massacre. The town in her thrall, the populace petrified in place as she took revenge for their failure to respect their masters.
Spilled blood dyed her arms to the elbow; splattered her pale legs to the thighs. As the slaughter mounted, she shed her garments; painted her bare breasts with gore, refreshing it hourly as the lifeblood of the fathers dried and flaked, patched with that spilled by their daughters.
It was glorious for the first hours. Enjoyable for the second day, even. By the time the week was out, though, Darla had become bored. There was no novelty left. The screaming had long since stopped, as the massacre progressed. The townspeople had no more breath for horror. The bloodiest feats became tedious with repetition.
She tried distracting Drusilla, promising her a new town: bigger, riper, readier for spectacular death. But Dru was enchanted with her design for this place. Shrugged her off.
It wasn't till Darla managed to spike a few victims with opium that the slaughter stopped. After the poppy-sleep lifted, and they had travelled far from the wreckage, they still had to keep Drusilla chained for a month to stop her returning to finish off the fragments of the living.
Darla yawned. Angelus would remember, though, and make sure to give Dru her head again in future. Just to see what would happen.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating R - bloody vampire activity below the cut
Word Count c300
Prompt 214 Egyptian mythology – Sakhmet, in the tale 'The Destruction of Mankind'
Characters/Pairing (if any) Drusilla, Darla, Angelus
A/N: Set vaguely after Drusilla has been turned, call it about 1870. In some part of Eastern Europe that didn't have journalists…
The townspeople tried to fight back. Angelus didn't appreciate that kind of behaviour. They should have been grateful he let them live. (Most of them. Well, some of them. Though not, it turned out, for long.)
He considered a spectacular revenge. Something public and baroque was planned; a tableau of defilement. But in the end, Angelus found it more amusing to let his kitten loose on them.
Little Dru didn't take to their rebellion. She exacted a terrible price from the townspeople. Not mere bites, screams and tearing. No, she shredded and burned meticulously, implacably. Slashed the eyeballs out of ancient dames; split the bellies of babies, impartial in her massacre. The town in her thrall, the populace petrified in place as she took revenge for their failure to respect their masters.
Spilled blood dyed her arms to the elbow; splattered her pale legs to the thighs. As the slaughter mounted, she shed her garments; painted her bare breasts with gore, refreshing it hourly as the lifeblood of the fathers dried and flaked, patched with that spilled by their daughters.
It was glorious for the first hours. Enjoyable for the second day, even. By the time the week was out, though, Darla had become bored. There was no novelty left. The screaming had long since stopped, as the massacre progressed. The townspeople had no more breath for horror. The bloodiest feats became tedious with repetition.
She tried distracting Drusilla, promising her a new town: bigger, riper, readier for spectacular death. But Dru was enchanted with her design for this place. Shrugged her off.
It wasn't till Darla managed to spike a few victims with opium that the slaughter stopped. After the poppy-sleep lifted, and they had travelled far from the wreckage, they still had to keep Drusilla chained for a month to stop her returning to finish off the fragments of the living.
Darla yawned. Angelus would remember, though, and make sure to give Dru her head again in future. Just to see what would happen.
*
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Date: 2011-03-19 04:17 am (UTC)Well done. :)
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Date: 2011-03-19 01:36 pm (UTC)Kudos.
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Date: 2011-03-19 10:43 pm (UTC)Great work!
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Date: 2011-03-20 07:06 pm (UTC)