A Gothic Winter Tale

[janebecomes]

Jane has found herself a nook in the library and is lost in the poetry of Catullus, a translation she found that she's not seen before.

The night is starting to draw in and so her shawl is pulled tightly around her as she wonders about the kind of passion and lust that inspired such words.

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[vojvode]

He drinks as much as he can without threatening her life, listening carefully to the spaces between the beats of her heart. She is strong and young, and beautiful. And he knows, her words will not need him to attain immortality.

Just a few more moments, just a few more breaths.

He twists his hand tighter in her hair, wanting to hear the pleasure on her lips.

[janebecomes]

As his hand moves in her hair, one of the gasps finally becomes a moan as she presses herself to him and her dark hair falls around her face.

[vojvode]

His lips part from her skin with a gasp, his dark eyes shot through with crimson. He watches her face as she sees his true visage.

It is the last thing she sees before his hand passes over her eyes. "Sleep. Sleep and forget." The shadows close in tight, dragging her down into darkness.

The candle gutters and is extinguished.