Departure and Rebirth - Death
The onset of the process was a frightening thing. A much too sudden sensation that rendered his own body useless. It was a gentle but quick pull into a vulnderable in-between state. Blurred vision could scarcely make out the colors of his living room but the shapes were utterly distorted. The sound of the television went straight through him— what could be heard could not be understood. And his eyes slipped closed without him even noticing. By that point, his limbs had gone completely limp, falling lamely to his sides. He'd have collapsed on the spot were it not for his lover still tightly holding onto him. Desperate and hungry. A chill began to course through him like a wave, spreading outward from his core. It was slight at first— not unlike a raindrop falling on skin. But quickly that drop became a flood that rushed to his fingertips. The cold shifting from a harmless raindrop to frightening arctic waters.
Were his mind still about somewhere, he'd have been terrified of it all. The feeling of his own life fading, his body dying, his vision plunged in darkness. Unable to do anything much less form a single thought. It didn't last very long at all. Only moments in truth. But death had a way of feeling like forever. If one were to ask, he's pretty sure he lost consciousness for a minute there. Only when the first drops of blood touched his lips did he begin to come back. Light trickles of ruby red began to pool in his mouth; with some managing to reach the back of his throat. He weakly breathed a desire for more. Such a wish was granted in a heartbeat,
His love, the one that sought to make him anew, opened wide the fresh wound at their wrist. With a mouthful of their own blood, they pressed their lips to his and new life was forced onto him in this way. Confused and unaware, he instinctively swallowed it down. Not a drop was left to waste. And in no time at all, he found himself a slave to greed.
More. More. It wasn't enough.
He wanted more.
But no more came once it was all gone. The brief heat that reignited him was once again lost. In its place was the cold embrace of death.
.
.
.
Rather than a coffin or some makeshift box, his body was simply laid in bed. Tucked beneath multiple blankets and surrounded by pillows and fresh, vanilla scented candles. Suppose such was one benefit of being beloved by his maker. They wished for him to be comfortable when he returned. They wanted to be the first thing he saw upon waking. All this and... well sneaking a coffin in would have been just as tricky as transporting a dead body that would not remain dead. Since there was no telling when he would rise again, they spent every day preparing his favorite foods. Although it would no longer sustain him the same as before, that was no reson to skimp out on celebrating. And when the cooking was done and he remained unconscious, they waited patiently as his bedside.
All the while, Rha slipped in and out of a vague sense of consciousness. For the better part of three days, all he knew was the quiet and lonely solitude of a void space. But every now and then, he thought he might've been able to sense something. The sound of someone talking at him with no way of knowing what they were truly saying. Or perhaps they weren't talking to him at all? The feeling of gently being moved around but never too far from where he was already situated. The light scent of something sweet in the air. The occasional waft of something else entirely— he knew not what it was, only that something about it was enticing. The sound of someone singing... maybe? The feeling of a hand in his.
He thought he sensed all of these. But who could say for certain? After all, he was simply floating in the darkness.
.
.
.
After three days his eyes finally opened once again. The light was much too bright at first and he groaned in pain at this. But when he tried to cover his eyes, he found that his limbs were too heavy. A consequence of being forced into dormancy for three whole days. It took a great effort to lift both hands to his face and rub the exhaustion from his eyes. That was when someone rushed into the room. Frightened, Rha snapped his head to the door and saw someone standing there. Chest heaving from the sudden run and eyes wide in both surprise and delight. He didn't recognize them at first, his brain still working to catch up, but soon enough a smile spread across his features. That's right, this was his love.
And they had been... doing what exactly?
Huh. That was odd. Why was he having trouble remembering?
As Rha searched his memory for an answer, his lover went on about missing him. Something about how it was completely normal for the process to take a few days but, even still, they had begun to worry after the second day. All this only confused him more— they just weren't making much sense! Wasn't it his birthday? Or about to be at the least? There was no way he would have slept through it. But at the same time, he was fairly certain his friends had already gathered before. In the middle of their ramblings, Rha stopped to ask his lover what was going on. He was answered with a smile and a laugh.
"What do you mean? Don't you remember? I bit you!"
"You... what?"
What he learned then came as a huge shock. Three days ago, on his birthday, he had died. His lover had killed him. But in return, he received a new life to spend with them. This new existence was known as the vampire.
Death comes to us as a blanket of cold.
Submitted By heartbang
for Vampiric Rites: Death
Submitted: 4 days and 14 hours ago ・
Last Updated: 4 days and 14 hours ago