Sire Eddie Fledgling Jason
The year was 1873, the Gilded Age, and Jason was attending a ball to meet the potential wives his parents had lined up for him. Nearing the age of wedlock, Jason couldn't gain access to his inheritance until he had a wife. So Jason spent the whole night dancing, going from one girl to the next, forcing idle banter. He was bored, giving everyone the cold shoulder. At one point, one of the girls who had seemed so excited to meet him ran off scoffing, but not before stomping his foot and calling him something unfitting coming from a lady's mouth.
It was only when his mother and father pulled him off to the side to give him a stern talking to that he tried to pretend as though he was having the time of his life. He drank to excess, needing the liquid courage to get through the evening. At some point, he went to get some fresh air, the heat of his buzz coursing through his veins.
He stood beneath a dark sky, the cool, crisp air biting at the soft flesh of his cheeks, causing a crimson blush to rise to the surface. But he wasn't looking up. Instead, he was looking down at the ground, trying to fight off a bout of nausea when a swift blur of movement pulled him from his momentary alcohol-induced reverie. He jerked up, squaring back his shoulders and straightening out his posture when he was thrown back against the building, a sharp pain coursing through him that felt like the bones in his back had broken off into tiny shards.
Through bleary eyes, he stared up into the eyes of his captor. Jason blinked away the tears in an effort to clear his vision, so he could see better. He was met by a figure in black. His face was silhouetted, so Jason couldn't make out all of his features, but the way they were pressed up against one another, Jason could tell the stranger was definitely a man, despite his long dark curly hair.
Before Jason could examine further, the man was leaning in as a pair of sharp canines descended, piercing his neck, and a searing pain erupted from the twin punctures. Jason's breath hitched, a strangled gasp that got caught in his throat. He tried to fight, to push the figure away, but the grip the stranger had on him was too strong. The pain was intense, a burning agony that spread throughout his entire body as the blood was drawn from him.
As the stranger drank, the pain began to slowly fade, becoming an afterthought as a strange numbness began to take hold. A cold sensation, a tingling poison, spread from the punctures and through his veins, dulling the pain. Jason's muscles went slack as the foreign substance coursed through him. His knees buckled under his weight, the only thing keeping him upright was the tight grip the man had on him. The world began to blur around the edges, and the last thing he felt was the cold bliss of the poison taking hold before everything went black.
When Jason woke, it was to darkness still, and the sting of something going into his eyes. There was a heavy weight bearing down on his chest. When he moved, the weight shifted, covering him more, suffocating him. It was dirt. He began to panic, moving more and more, the earth shifting to suffocate him fully. He clawed at the dirt, slowly rising out of the earth and into the night. He had no memory of the last few hours.
He staggered, dirt falling from his now ruined trousers and tailcoat. He looked all around, conscious, but barely able to register anything around him. His senses were no longer impaired, but they seemed better than they had been before. He could hear and smell everything: the pulsing of blood rushing through veins, the crackle of a fire burning lantern from above, the beating of a heart. Only then did he realize he was starving. And that his mouth was dry.
There was a flash of movement, a pedestrian walking by illuminated by the lantern light, oblivious to the man who had just dug himself from a grave. Jason leapt, acting almost on animalistic instinct. He grabbed the man by his hackles and sank his teeth into the flesh of his neck.
Blood pooled his mouth, coating his tongue in a mixture of metallic, salty, and an unsettling, saccharine sweetness. He gulped with a frantic fervor, throat convulsing, with the force of his gulps. The warmth bled from the limbs of the man, growing limp and lifeless in his grasp. He pulled back, blood glistening on his lips, and stumbled away from the limp form, dropping it to the ground.
A sob ripped from his chest as his gaze met the empty, verdant eyes of the man he had just murdered. He stared in horror for a few lingering moments before turning to flee, swallowed by the darkness of the night.
I'm GAGGED. HE WANTS REVENGE RIGHT??? Vampire vendetta to lover???
