Bound
Love. [luhv]. Noun
a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
sexual passion or desire.
My, it sounds so lovely, doesn’t it? You asked, and asked, and asked, and asked, and asked, and asked, and asked, and asked, and... well you get the point. You’ve whittled me down, hollowed me out, and quite frankly drained me of any resistance. So fine. I suppose i’ll talk to you about the most harrowing experience of my (un)life.
Love
You see, for us damned. Love isn’t quite a thing. Oh sure, few of us will espouse it as a beautiful existence to be strived for. Some will champion its name to further their cause. Few will call it blasphemous. And others... don’t think about it at all, shy of a tool in a predator’s toolbox.
We have something much more perverse readily available to us than this precept.
The Blood Oath
You’ll hear many names for it, namely a “blood bond”. It various a fair bit based on who you ask, its origins are wrapped in mystery, and its effects are openly doubted.
But, if you’ve ever been victim to it. It’s far more real than any wound. More tangible than your very flesh. And more controlling than your need for blood.
For me, i never saw it coming. And i was amazed at how much it wrapped around me, like a vice around my neck. It became my life, and my reason. To explain it to you wouldn’t be worth the effort of typing here, for i’ll never be able to convey to you what it is like to -exist- for someone else.
But, let me try, at the very least.
I was much younger than i am, perhaps centuries ago. But, irregardless, i was younger. She, to, was younger. But she was a true predator and knew what she wanted.
She courted me in her own way, she got my attention, and she never left my veins. But i step ahead of myself, let me weave from the beginning of this storied web.
I was but an apprentice to a potent elder, learning the ways of... well, never you mind what. She, likewise, was an apprentice to a master of another craft all together. Whatever drew her to lay her eyes upon me, i can not say. But lest i lie to my inner self, it was perchance fate that drew that bow.
At this time, i was merely a plaything for another. Her whims had long since become debaucherous, and i suppose i realized my position as merely a figure in her chessboard of life. Whether or not i was consciously aware of it is a moot point, for i kept escaping her presence and finding myself in the company of others. Seemingly seducing the various eyes of many a maiden.
And she was no different, in that regard. She found herself enraptured with me. Perchance my way of conversing, mayhaps something as superficial as my appearance, and sometimes it might of been the way my mind operated. She had a morbid curiosity with much, but upon this evening, her gaze fell upon me.
Before long, she had her undead carotid artery stoked with new found life, and her corpse of a heart begun to beat upon the existence of my presence. How true that might be could differ from her retelling, but it changes naught a thing.
She knew that her chance was narrow, as i was likely to fade into oblivion much like a spectre atwixt another plane of existence. Perhaps as the gossamer-like existence of even the fae of folklore, i was too, an immaterial being that was to fade from the touch of reality.
So, before i escaped her comforting presence (a true betrayal of the foul blood that ran through her twisted capillaries), she simple pleaded to have but a way to message me. A way to reach me the could cut across the twilight veil that we determine our waking hours
Of course i had no reason to object, my life was not owed to anyone, and i was always starved for companionship. I found her mind, her fractured grey matter as it were, to resonate deeply with how my respective thought-roads intertwined. Her colorful collision of the immaterial plane of idea was but fireworks for my shattered psyche, it was akin to a drug to one as isolated as I.
Our... friendship, as loosely defined a term as that could be, went off like some powdered keg under the guiding touch of none but Hephaestus, Patron God of the forge. We thanked this proverbial Prometheus for what was meant to be true companionship to lost and damned souls such as us.
We explored each other’s mind cavities as deeply and thoroughly as those who ply our craft of the mental realm. We pierced each other’s veil and stared at the beating, naked truth that lie within. The various weaves of damage, the eons of trauma, and the aching desire for true companionship.
Even with my attempt to obfuscate my truer nature, she saw through it with eyes and understanding comparable to that of a lover of the ages. Her domestic, motherly, devout love was more than enough to soothe my broken mind, mend my shattered heart, and weld my future together. She wormed her way deep within me, with naught a helping hand of our proverbial damned grandsire.
I attempted to learn of her, a wicked world of trauma and abuse that scored quite the blackened past... but even with that, i couldn’t tear myself from her presence within my damned (un)life. And she was more than willing to let me slip deep within her caves. Sure that could have multiple meanings, and we shared each other’s bodies as well as minds, but i assure you it was mutual as it was beautiful. They were healing touches, passionate embraces, and devoted strokes that guided my shattered form towards a more complete and whole future.
This... was but our beginning. I could naught of seen where our damned union would go, even with my mastery of the Auspexial arts, i could naught see what portents would ultimately damn us. ‘Lest of all, could i see the poison that her love dripped with. But, again, i stride ahead of the proverbial now.
As our union begun, she worked her angelic touch to restore wholeness to my broken being. She started by helping me to end my union to a debased individual who attempted to run dominion over me. She then turned her attention to helping me become full once more, spurring me to be all i can and to not worry about the various demons that resided within the immaterial realm that my mind could only see. She chased these demons away with but her gentle caress, and endless devotion towards me
During this time, truly, i was most full. Most... complete. As though a mirror was to be reformed and set anew.
But no such union is without its hurdles, its tumultuous weaves that Fate (herself) seems only privy of.
We fought over the trivial perceptions of the world, we never truly shared a haven together, we continued our blasphemous union in ways that placated me (more so than her), and her compatriots made all attempts to wedge our union apart with constant sewing of doubt.
But, despite all these hurdles, her near unrequited love of me only grew stronger and stronger. As though some patron deity wove their way through her, as if some otherworldly existence used her as the vessel of their twisted impact upon our medium.
But, at the same time (too) came the eventual poisoning of myself. I naught realized it while i was enraptured by her seemingly unrequited passion of me, but she wove the longer game within the quarry of her prey (me). Slowly, yet steadily, she found ways to feed me her damned vitae. This warped my existence, and slowly molded me towards her reality and only hers. But, as few would dare attest against, you know naught what you get when you addle the moon-addled children of Malkav...
Before long, our love was harmonious. I, the ever socially inept ingrate i was/am, and her... the beautiful socialite and sole passion of my long dead chest organ. Before long, i found excuses (either procured by her whim, or perchance woven by my own desire) to spend countless eons of my immortal time upon this damned plane, with but her. Countless and immeasurable units of time expired between us, and each a glorious shimmer of a beautiful reality we shared. If i could bottle but one of these moments, i would of called it my personal treasure and treated it nothing shy of my phylactery.
Time was eternally on her side, however. She knew what she desired of me, and she knew how to acquire it with little awareness from myself. Before long, the second damned draught of her divine devil wine found it within my anathematized frame. And she wore this existence into me by removing herself from my immediate presence. She wove herself a maiden, and transplanted herself several hamlets away from my estate. Now, for my desire to see my beloved, i would have to lengthen my cursed existence many domains away in quite the lengthy carriage ride.
But;
I loved her. This was a sacrifice i was but most happily willing to make. And i would see her each fortnight i could, whenever i was capable of stealing myself from my endless studies. Her siren song, her succubus wiles, her demonic desires... i was a slave to them all. And a willing one at that, for her confounded touch was the only balm to my ever feverous sanity
Before long, she grew tired of her long game and returned to the domain we once shared. She shared her quarters with a past coven of hers, and had me the eternal guest of her cozy haven. During this time, i convince myself, i was fed the third infernal succor of my eternal incarceration.
She, the eternal ray of lunar inspiration, was my sole purpose for my loathsome existence. I was naught the wise of it, and still believe my passion of her to be but my merry whimsy. I infuriated her with my halfcocked attempts and hackneyed passions. She would weave nothing but a colorful tapestry of words to describe our eternal future together, and i would merely listen to her bardic inspiration with pale interest. Sure, it colored my humors the right way, but for whatever reason... i seemed almost willing to sabotage my desires. As though a marionette to a darker force, i was voodooed against (seemingly) my truest desires.
As i stated... none seem to predict what reaction they would get when attempting to guide the chaotic pulsations of Malkav’s children...
So, while our passions reached a true ceiling of delight... I took it upon myself to join my shattered family upon the vine of The Call and transpose myself across the continent. I kept this information quiet from the ever piqued ears of my beloved, but her gaze was always able to pierce the veil of whatever i dared obfuscate.
Her... distress. Her... dismay ... was palpable. Her world was to end, with naught her precious prize by her side. I assured her that was not true, that her necrotic passion would/could flourish without my existence by her voluptuous presence.
She... seemed naught to believe such, and dared to enact a ritual that would not only end her own condemned (un)life, but also haunt me until my eventual day of ash.
...
Truly, that vice was naught tighter around my cursed throat. But... i steeled through, convinced that The Call of my damnable brethren was infalliably more important than whatever passion project my (un)life would acquire with her steady hand to focus my crude impulses of thought.
Thus, i left her. Her cursed vitae coursed my body, and tore against my flesh for each hamlet i would pass through. I coughed up the red mist more times than i dare to remember, and my being merely ached for her presence. But i championed on further, steeled by my dear vein brother’s resolution.
At one which point, i lost my one true keepsake of her. A simple ring that was written in a lost language, that for... whatever reason, steeled my sanity when all else seemed lost. It absconded from me in a blunderous moment while i was still reeling from the agony of absence that her lack of a presence poisoned me with.
And we eventually reached the territory of The Call, and established our foothold upon the populace. But my mind never dared to tire of her. She was the ever present phantom of my mind, the passionate puppet that drew my heartstrings, and the marrow the stored itself deep within the rot of my bone.
We communicated where we could, using damnable methods of supernatural arts and rituals to so much as pass along but mere syllables to each other’s flesh and mind. Her words were but the air that rushed through my long since atrophied lungs and gave meaning to my void-ridden life. I can only wish that mine, in turn, helped her through her times...
I kept to the eternal trust of my crimson pact, that my families impulses would naught betray me ... that this crusade was ever more important than the future i was promised. I had to abandon everything with her, even without realizing it, to give myself to this reality. I had hoped dearly that i was the truest choice in a cursed game of chance.
... i still wonder if i made the right choice
Before long, our communication decayed from its frequency and heart. My vigor became choleric and riddled with melancholy. And word passed to me that a dear patron of my Sire had passed away, from ritae long since forgotten.
I was... broken with no source of balm to ease my troubled existence. My long since blessed muse, absent from me, left me to spiral only deeper within the confounded labyrinth of my accursed intellect. Each turn of this fictional maze led me to yet another Minotaur of agony, that rent my delicate frame of mine asunder.
... and that was when, in my agony, i spurned all who dared touch my fractured existence.
Including
Her
She reeled from my violent outburst, and she accepted my self imposed exile... bitterly. And i was ... finally, truly alone.
Her damnable vitae coursing my veins... but, i was... alone
They say Malkav’s children our the champions of meeting the eternal maker, that their ability to fearlessly greet Helios upon the start of each blessed morning is but their truest legend.
I know naught, but i must admit, i wished to be ash more times than i care to admit. I would of ended my feeble existence if it wasn’t for my cowardly nature to do something so definitive. Something so blunt and without beautiful meaning
So, i reunited my reprehensible existence into her glorious light. Her eternal renewing flame of passion, surely there (and only there) i could be whole once more. Her compassionate love would be the sole light in my oubliette of agony
...
So i wrote to her. And i was amazed at the mercury leadened speed of her reply. Surely this meant she missed my existence too. Surely this meant we could intertwine once more. Surely she could modernize her cursed vitae within my veins with a new potency, something darker and deeper than last time. Something truly as eternal as us
...
She... not so much. She found her muse in another, and i was but a relic of her checkered past.
Oh the agony
Oh the pain
Oh the heartache
I’ve suffered much pain in my centuries of (un)life, i assure you of that. But none so fatal as this. None so tactfully able to rip me into shreds and eradicate me at a near molecular level.
Over the waning fortnights, and even eternal months that spun from that damned moment, i tried every tool in my detestable toolbox to reacquire her blessed gaze upon my shattered self.
And each turn was met with agony. Her new muse satisfied her itch in life in ways she never thought possible
Her new muse was a window opening she never thought attainable, let alone so beautiful to gaze through
Her new muse was ... truly what she needed. And i... was exsanguinated beyond repair.
... sure her muse and her split sooner than i could of imagined, but the damage was long since done. The fractures that defined my life were set, and the healing was impossible to fathom...
I even made the costly venture to visit her, in her new found domain. Sure her presence, her being, her mind was naught but the beautiful draught i missed more than anything else. But... the cold touch she had for me... i can’t explain it, but it slaughtered me on the spot
I felt the life empty itself from my very mind, the once colorful fireworks that defined my thought process, the vibrant tapestry of impulse that made up my existence, and the passionate way i pursued my craft....
A void
Sure she could pull back the eternal veil, sure she knew the various aspects of death magic... but none of her spells could of eradicated me any better than this cold reception.
... this farce went on for mere nights, before i returned my broken vessel to my damnable family.
I was no longer whole. I was no longer salvageable. I was no longer... worth.
So, i kept myself alive(?) by just mindlessly pursuing my craft....
I made eternal time for any of her whimsies. I placateted her when her mood went choleric. I was the eternal sponge of her woe. And the punching bag of her angst...
But i took it all. For my love of her is more eternal than our Grandsire’s mistakes at letting us damnable lot exist in the first place.
But, regardless of whatever cheek i offered her. Regardless of what future i attempt to weave for us. Regardless of my pleas and emasculated begging...
She. Didn't. Want. Me.
Before long, her mind snapped. The torrent of emotion from a thousand specters of a hell rank with charnel, shattered whatever psyche she had.
My mind was raped with an endless barrage of her need for me. Her desperation as palpable as virginal blood.
But... i was with my matron that evening, and decided her presence to be more real than this cruel spectre of my past... and merely placated her with half attentive replies
That evening, she spilt her existence to me... wishing nothing less than for us to rejoin and become but one for all eternity. A most colorful reality, i must admit
But... i remember naught what i said. I remember naught what i did, but i must of said something most foul
For... within the fortnight, our passion expired as deftly as a flame upon a snuffed candle.
And for the rest of eternity, she evaded me as though we never had any tangible connection. That we never once shared so much as a presence together, let alone anything more.
...
And that was when i truly died. I would be ash if it wasn’t for a mixture of my cowardly ways, and my stubborn resolve.
I wanted to see whatever the future would bring. I managed to lie to myself endlessly that there was a future that intertwined the two of us. I forever kept a quarter within my haven eternally free for her. I always let her know she was welcomed in my domain, never a question asked. And for eons since, i let her rob my coffers to pay for her whimsies.
If i was to be but a source of disposable wealth for her, then so be it. It truly is the least i can give to one that gave my existence so much color.
I know naught what the future brings, dearest, but i know i will eternally await for you to darken my domain once more. I am much too old to chase a new muse, and none will dare hold a candle to the wicked way you did. My eternal Nox, my cruel Hecate, my damnable Baphomet. May your cold northern wind find me once more...
Ahem
That, is about it.
Love. It's a twisted drug. It will drag you under the murky surface and asphyxiate you before you know what grappled you. It is the cruelest thing in our existence, and it causes pain worse than any blade
Yet
It is the most beautiful experience you will ever get to enjoy. Words fail to convey how, but... you will feel whole. If not for merely the first time
