René&Aleks Master Post
@sortitvs
Hearing the distant call of his name, followed by the fast paced steps of leather soled Persian slippers against cool tiles, getting closer quickly, the vampire slowly lifts his head as the warm body below him gives a soft moan. With the tip of his tongue slipping past pearly fangs to gently lick away a bead of red from his pale lip, René’s coal black eyes watch his male servant run through open French doors towards him, as he and his meal lay on plush, silk leather cushions and hand woven throws of ornate patterns. “Asim” he calls out with a disapproving tone, not liking to be interrupted, but as the letter clasped in the man’s hand is lifted as proof of a good enough excuse, René rises from the bed and pulls away from his half eaten meal. He was a delectable thing, dark tan skin and flowing black hair, more then willing to do as he’s told for the touch of the divine. A quality the vampire quite enjoys.
Pulling open, white cotton robes closed around his bare chest, René stalks over towards his servant and takes the letter, before a simple bob of his head conveys his desire to be alone, and he moves away towards his study.
Sharp nails had already sliced through the envelope with faintly familiar penmanship scrawled on the front by the time he was alone in his study. Slipping out neatly folded paper, the sound of it unfolding is crisp in his hands as he moves towards an open balcony, greeted by a warm breeze rustling muslin curtains as his eyes scan each line. “Tsk, Hungarians...” he mutters softly in his old tongue with a shake of his head, reading each Russian word carefully, but quickly - though it is all together too short, and he is quickly left seeking more. Slowly his eyes lift and gaze out at the three towering points of the Pyramids of Giza in the distance, the moon nestled neatly between them.
Aleskei
Your reply was most swift, I thank you for the understandable effort and time it must have taken from your busy nights to write to me. I believe winter must soon be upon you, so you will, at least, be gifted with more hours of dark.
The sun does indeed beat here. I no understand the Egyptian’s of ancient times affinity for the sun in their gods, as sometimes it does feel as if it touches the sand. Nights here are short and as such I am finding progress slow and frustrating. I do not see my return to Korea being any time soon.
My congratulations to your daughter, I hope that she finds much prosperity, or as much as can be found from a Hungarian groom.
René’s lips curl softly in amusement as he sits at his desk, ink pen in hand, one of the many things he had insisted be brought with him. He knows Aleksei did not need to hear his voice, to read his disapproval of such a selection. Though it could be worse, she could be marrying a Russian.
I include a photocard of the pyramids I am fortunate enough to gaze out a every night from my bedroom. An image captured by millions of eyes over their long life time, yet still hold awe with each glance, even in a heart as long dead as my own.
With a gentle sigh René lifts the postcard of the pyramids and looks over at them, wondering if he is safe to mention ‘hearts’, especially his own, when the manner of their parting weighs heavily on the end of Aleksei’s letter.
I will bring you a stone, carved by a hand possibly even older then your own and locked away for many centuries, not touched by fingers other then mine and yours since, when I find my lost pyramid. Perhaps that will forgive my sudden departure?
‘Parting is such sweet sorrow...’
Yours
René
As weeks roll on, René only becoming more deeply engrossed in the dig in search for the lost temple, his mind becomes filled with the obsession of it, stopping only when the sun forces him to, but soon again he rises and his work is relentless. The sandy dunes shift around his feet, as one particularly hot evening the vampire stands under bright moonlight, overseeing the dig site, as men shift sand and stone under bright flood lighting, so bright the vampire is forced to watch behind tinted goggles, as the sand whips around them in the beginning of a sand storm.
“We should head back for the night!” Hearing the British voice shout out to him over the bellowing wind, René looks over to his delectable head of the excavation team, a man he is constantly tortured with, as the one person he cannot feast upon. “The storm is closing in, René-” the man’s voice softens a little as he steps up to him, shorter but stockier then his benefactor, his tan skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration and where-as René remains covered in bellowing silks, the archaeologist from Cambridge bares his chest in a low V, showing the creeping of chest hair towards his throat. After all this is over and René can finally put this damn desert behind him, he is going to reward himself with a bite.
The vampire is not keen to leave, a storm could put them back weeks if it shifts enough sand, and he felt as if they were getting so close! “René!” Looking around as another voice calls to him, he sees his assistant stood, with a letter clutched in his hand and sharp eyes catch the name sprawled on the front, his own, in familiar calligraphy. “Have a report on the storm to me soon” the vampire nods to his archaeologist, before moving away, giving the go ahead to end their dig for the night, even though the sun had only just set.
Stepping up into the back of the jeep, he begins to tear into the letter, larger this time, it feels heavy in his hands and as he slips out the expensive paper he sees why. Folded up neatly is his hand written letter, but also sheets of folded music paper. Gently unfolding it, his eyes scan the inked notes and before he had even read the letter, he knew it was Aleksei’s composition. He was skilled on the piano, able to make beautiful music and having it in his hands felt like something tangible to hold onto. “Music?” His assistant asks, the young Egyptian man sat next to him eyeing the paper with a tilt of his head, though he cannot read any of the words with it, as they looked to be in Russian. “Tchaikovsky?” he asks curiously, only leaving René to smile softly with a hum. “No, much better..” He murmurs aloud, mostly to himself.
With the evening now free, René returns to his rooms, finding his violin after searching through cases, and with a feeling of regret at ignoring her for so long, slips the beautiful wood from its case and moves before the balcony to feel his way through Aleksei’s piece. His focus shifts from the notes on paper before him, to the way he feels the music is leading, and is pleased to see they marry well, the two of them in tune musically. Yet as his bow hums along the last note he cannot help but feel a heaviness in his heart, it was such a sad sounding piece… or perhaps he was attributing his own emotions to it? Either way, it is some time before he has a moment to pen his reply to Aleksei, and he has no such luxury of playing music again.
Dearest Aleksei
I must apologies for the length of time it has taken me to pen this letter, we are finding much development here. Our newest dig site has unearthed a system of rooms, similar to that of a maze, I believe it a structure relating to the temple I am searching for.
I am afraid I must be brief, the expedition takes much of my time, but not all of my thoughts. Some travel back to be with you. When you think of those winds as they roll over Russia’s many hills and valleys, you must remember they originated somewhere more westerly!
Thank you for the music, it did me good to return on the notes to a different time. I will not say simpler, for when has our entwined existence ever been simple?
I hope that you ill write to me again, and soon. I wish to hear more of what keeps you busy.
Think of me when you play.
Ever thinking of you
René
April 2015
My dearest Aleksei
It is hard to believe it has been a year already. Some nights I wake and feel trapped in this land cursed by sand. Nothing grows here, I did not think I would find myself missing the sight of trees and lush growth, signs of life that I had taken for granted. This land feels dead and I along with it.
My work keeps me motivated, but for that brief moment when the sun has set and I return to waking existence, I feel an emptiness like the deserts around me.
How goes the spring? I hope that soon warmer winds banish the cold from around you, but I think perhaps given the ice of your home country, you might miss it. At least I am from a more temperate state, Romanian summers are truly something to behold. Maybe we shall see it together.
…..
September 2015
.....
I hope the diagrams I have included will illustrate to you the sheer magnitude of the structure we believe is buried here. We have almost pinpointed the location exactly.
This is no ordinary temple, something is keeping it hidden from us. Since we discovered this location storms are almost a daily occurrence, pushing out work back.
I hear from locals that these weather patters are almost unheard of.
.....
January 2016
My dear I wish you the best of new year celebrations. I wish I could be with you, but for now your music must keep me company.
I send a gift for your daughter in celebration of her marriage. I am told it symbolises fertility and happiness to Egyptian woman. I feel as if this is another momentus occasion I have missed...
.....
September 2017
Again I must be brief, I write this letter in the last few moments before sunrise for I must share this with you. I can think of no one I would wish more to be here in this moment then you. I have found it.
My years of toil have finally born fruit! It is more magical then you could imagine. The halls of ancient kings with paint so fresh and clear, not seen by eyes in centuries. The news will break soon, but I wanted to be the first to tell you.
Then there is more then will be told. Something was locked down here. My true reason for heading this exhibition.
I have freed him.
