The previous post was inspired by equal parts "Phantom of the Opera", Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor and the Anita Blake vampire hunter series. Jean Claude, Asher and Jason are the intellectual property of Ms. Laurell K. Hamilton.

I wasn't supposed to be down here. This was, after all, his lair. His sanctuary, the one place he could hide away from the world, though he would never admit to that. After all, the members of Belle Morte's line do not hide from the world. We slink through it like great cats on the prowl. But Asher was ever one for slipping away from the hubbub of the court. Do not think wrong of what I say for he could stalk and seduce as only the best could, but left to his own devices he was happier with a book of poetry or down here in the cavern. Not that Julianna or myself ever knew where he was.
This was the one secret Asher kept from even us, his beloveds. But when Julianna was torn from us and Asher's own beauty stolen away, he disappeared more and more until at last I could no longer stand the secrecy and followed him. Down and down and down into the earth, treading along silently behind him with only the torch in his grasp to light the way. At one point a small rock slid out from under my boot, skipping down the path with a clatter. He stopped then and I froze, pressed against the cold stone wall and fervently doing my best to press myself through the rock face in hopes of remaining unseen. I had no need to worry as he simply set the torch into a wire rack on the wall and walked on. And so I stayed where I was, peeking around the corner to watch as he lit more and more torches until the cavern was ablaze with the fire light and the truth was revealed to my spying eyes. The truth of Asher and his mind. To see him sitting on the bench, fingers poised, body held perfectly still as though he were listening for something. The anticipation was almost more than I could take and I nearly cried out to him, if only to break the silence, when suddenly his hands slammed down on the keys and the first notes ripped through the air. I understood then why people claimed that prodigious musicians had sold their souls to the Devil and briefly wondered if this applied to Asher. His fingers flew over the ivory keys of the pipe organ, sometimes harsh and demanding, other times caressing and soft as a lovers touch. The music grew louder and more emotive. He played with his whole body now, rocking in time as though by doing even that he could pour himself into the music and perhaps escape the demons that had driven him here. The more he played on, the bolder I became until at last I stood in the center of the room, feasting my eyes upon the sight of his soul laid as bare as the scars upon his face.
As much as I claim to love all things beautiful, there is also something to be said for the tormented being. To this day I am sure that part of what keeps Asher by me is that I am drawn to him as the moth to flame. An apt analogy, since surely I am playing with fire and shall be burned one day. But in watching him play I realized that had I not loved him before I most certainly did then.
The music came to a crashing finale and before I could stop myself I applauded him. He whirled around, flinging hair over his face to slide across the scars, to hide his flaws from sight as he fixed me with an ice cold stare. I was caught.
"You," he growled, "are not meant to be here."
"Forgive me, mon chardonneret, I could not help myself." I winced slightly at the look he gave me.
"Stop calling me that, Jean Claude." He was glowering now. "And go away."
I've never been good at listening to people and proved it by taking a step closer.
"Calling you what? Mon chardonneret?", I smiled a little, trying to tease him gently. "It is what you are to me."
"I am not a goldfinch!" he snarled.
I shook my head sadly. "Non, you are more like a cantankerous old owl these days."
That only earned me another glare.
"I am not an owl either."
"Then what are you, mon ami?"
His muttered reply was lost under the sound of his boot toe scuffing against the floor.
I cupped a hand to my ear, smiling playfully. "Could you repeat that?"
"I said I wanted to be a hawk!"
"You're too big to be a hawk," I was grinning now. "Perhaps you would like to be a pelican?"
I was fairly certain that he was going to attempt to harm me somehow. Perhaps by pulling my hair out by the roots, though it wouldn't have been the first time.
"If you weren't already dead I would kill you myself, " he grumbled. "You're a smug, little undead bastard."
The effect of his statement was ruined by his mouth twisting into a wry smile, which I could not help but return.
"If you want, you could be an eagle.", I said it with sincerity and truly meant it. If calling him an eagle would make Asher happy again, then I would do so.
He shook his head, making the hair slip away from the scars.
"Call me what you will, Jean Claude. I merely do not think myself fitting of being called anyone's goldfinch anymore."
Restraint was out of the question and so I took the last four steps across the room and pulled the taller man into a fierce hug.
"No matter what Belle Morte says, I still think you're beautiful, Asher. I always will."
He was hesitant but in the end he returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, much to my delight.
"You're an insufferably smug bastard and a spoiled brat, but you are a good friend, Jean Claude. Never change, no matter what happens. J'taime, mon ami."
I promised and then grabbed him by the hand and dragged him back over to the pipe organ, making him explain it all to me and chastising him for not sharing it with me sooner. I didn't really matter what he said to me, I'd made him smile and after waiting for over fifty years, I had finally heard the words that I longed for him to say.





"Jean Claude."
The raven haired vampire slammed the book in his lap shut, hastily shoving it under the arm chair he was sprawled over.
"Oui, Asher?", he was trying for innocent but figured he was probably failing horribly.
The bigger man leaned over him, grinning, baring a hint of fang, "Are you writing in your dairy again?"
"It is not a diary, it's a journal!" Jean Claude huffed, crossing his arms and giving his golden haired companion the evil eye. "And whether or not I am writing in it is none of your business."
"Not even if I do this?" Asher whispered softly, leaning in closer, getting near enough to brush his lips against the smaller vampire's mouth. Jean Claude froze, staring back at the other man who suddenly grinned again and jumped back, the book in question in his hand.
"Give that back!", jumping to his feet Jean Claude made a grab for the journal as Asher danced back, staying just out of reach.
Laughing the taller man turned and headed out of the room, pretending to read from the book in a girly sing-song voice.
"Dear Diary, today Asher kissed me, it was soooo romantic...."
Jean Claude gave chase, running after the other man, yelling, "Mon Dieu! And you called me the brat!"

Jason flattened himself against the wall, narrowly avoiding being run down by the two vampires. Watching them disappear down the hall, he shook his head, smiling, "Hope I'm still like that after 300 years."

Ah, how depressing to look at the dates and realize that I haven't had a single thing to post here since a year ago. I'm starting to think that perhaps there are a few too many distracting things in my life now. Or maybe I need a change to re-ignite that spark of creativity.
I can only hope that I become inspired soon.

I am beginging to think that my muse has died. No inspiration lately, nothing. This sucks.

I'm somewhat frustrated. I want to write a new short story, I've even got inspiring music. However, I have neither drive nor mental imagery. Frustrating. Grr.


If anyone sees my muse, kindly send him/her back so that I maybe throttle them for running away yet again.

And it's been awhile
Since I could hold my head up high
And it's been awhile
Since I first saw you
And it's been awhile
Since I could stand on my own two feet again
And it's been awhile
Since I could call you

Midir had lost track of how long he'd been wandering the city streets, though he was fairly certain that he'd been out since before the rain had started. Hands deep in pants pockets, coat collar turned up in a vain effort to keep some of the wetness out, there wasn't one inch of him that wasn't water logged by now. He just walked without a real direction. Just moving to kill time, trying to delay against the inevitable return to home. If he was even welcome there any more. He snorted softly, head down, strands of wet, silvery blonde hair plastered to his face, shoulders and back. Not really paying attention to his surroundings made it ever so easy for him to miss the way the path went from smooth pavement to unstable gravel. To anyone watching from a distance it was like watching a puppet having it's strings cut. His boot soles failed to grip on the small stones and he simply toppled over. Acting on basic instinct, his hands jerked out of his pockets to halt his fall and bare palms smacked into the ground. Swearing, he got back to his feet, mind registarting that there had been a clattering of something plastic. A quick pat against one leg and a look around revealed his cell phone laying on the ground and being spattered with rain drops. He scooped it up. Maybe a quick call home? Dull, green eyes looked at the little screen before he flipped the phone shut again. A phone call wouldn't be good right now. No real ideas as to why, but it didn't seem like a good idea.

And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means

And it's been awhile
Since I could say that I wasn't addicted
And it's been awhile
Since I could say that I love myself as well
And it's been awhile
Since I've gone and fucked things up just like I always do
And it's been awhile
But all that shit seems to dissapear when I'm with you

More time passed, the only real change in the setting being that the rain fell more heavily and grew colder. By now Midir's hands were growing icily cold and a cup of coffee seemed like a plan. But that required money and money was something he didn't have with him. Stupid really, how he's just pulled on his coat and fled, but getting out of the house seemed to be about the only way to keep himself in one peice. Still, he really, really wanted that coffee. With cream and sugar. Lots of sugar. Maybe even French Vanilla. He liked that. Really, he was a caffine addict of the highest order, but right now it would just be something to warm him. Something hot and sweet and oh so good. That little thought sparked another, though it had very little to do with coffee and everything to do with the reason he was wandering around like a lost soul. Or he was pretty sure it was the reason. He didn't really want to probe his memories to figure it out at this time. A loud chirping brought him crashing back to reality. His phone. He dragged it out with numb fingers. "Yeah?" A woman's voice on the other end. Yelling and demanding to know where the hell he was. He winced when a particularly loud word blasted at his ear. "I'm out." Pause. "I told you, I was going for a walk." More yelling. "No, damn it. I am not coming home yet. I don't want to." That didn't go over too well. "Hey, I'm not the one being all pissy and screaming." Nor did that. "I did not start this fight. Don't you dare go trying to blame it on me." She was saying something and he wished she would just shut up. But no, she kept talking and the more words she said, the more the grip he had on his anger slipped away. "The hell I did! I put every damn thing I used back where it belonged. " That was met with an arguement which was all it took to push him over the brink. "You know what?! Fuck you! I am sick of this. Yeah, I used your fucking equipment, but I put it all back. And now you're telling me that I stole it? Fuck you! Just fuck you!" She screamed incoherent words, he really wasn't sure what, and it was followed by words a little more calm. Not compleately unexpected but no less shocking. He took a second to collect himself and then answered. "Fine. Whatever. You won't have to worry yourself about it anymore." Pause and listen. "Why? Because I'm not coming back, that's why. Oh, don't worry yourself Mother, and I'm sure you won't, I'll be fine. Nice talking to you." And with that he hung up. What the hell would he do now? There was no going back. No money for coffee and now no home. The phone twittered again, but he didn't answer. Raking a hand back through water slicked locks he sank down to sit on the curb and think.

And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that I've rendered
I've gone and fucked things up again.

Why must I feel this way?
Just make this go away
Just one more peaceful day

He had no idea how long he sat there, head in his hands and trying to come up with ideas. A loner and social oddball all his life, there were few people that he could go to. Most he had angered or forcefully distanced at some point and right now that wasn't something that he wanted to risk being brought up. After all, he'd just made the biggest move ever. It was one thing to sever ties with friends, but with family? "Nice going Midir", he muttered, "Way to think straight and be in control. You're fucked now, boy." Why couldn't he go just one day with out a fight?

And it's been awhile
Since I could look at myself straight
And it's been awhile
Since I've said I'm sorry
And it's been awhile
Since I've seen the way the candles light your face
And it's been awhile
But I can still remember just the way you taste.

More time passed and the light went from dismal gray to black. Night time now. But Midir just sat there. He couldn't even feel his fingers anymore, his lips were tinged with blue and he was mad at himself. Everytime he caught a glimpse of himself in the puddle at his feet he would move so that his boot disturbed the water. There was no going back anymore. By this time, all his things would be out on the curb, unless he was lucky and one of his siblings got to them first. A neon light caught his attention for a moment. A coffee shop sign. He studied it longingly. Hot, sweet, reviving. And there was that other thought again. More of a memory really. Hot, sweat slicked skin against his, sweet perfume and the life giving feel of her in his arms as the sheets tangled around them. He groaned and scrubbed numb hands over his face. She'd been so, so good. Desh.... He didn't even remember why he'd ever left her, why he'd gone back home. She'd offered to let him stay, to help him get a job and he'd turned her down. "Idiot!," he hissed "You fuck up everything!"

And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem to be I know it's me
I can not blame this on my father
He did the best he could for me

He laughed, dryly, despite all the moisture. No one to cast blame on but himself this time. Well, maybe The Bitch, but then again, had he just kept his temper, he'd be home with that coffee. His father would be sad when he found out what had happened. A hard yank on blonde hair. "Your own damn fault, idiot. Never thinking things through." He slumped forward, elbows on knees and chewing his lip. A soft voice behind him jolted Midir from his thoughts. "Hello, love." He scrambled to his feet, exhaustion and cold making him move like a drunk. Even after a minute of staring, his mind just didn't want to beleive what he saw. "Desh? Deshwitat??" Deep blue eyes watched him as she nodded once. "H..how? Th...thought you were in Eur...europe." Damn, the cold was really setting in and he didn't have the energy to fight it. His teeth were starting to chatter badly. She just tucked raven black hair behind one ear and held out her hand to him. He reached to take it, but his hand and arm shook so hard that it made his vision blurry. Desh didn't say anything, just took his frigid hand in her warmer one and helped him to start walking. There was a car a few feet away, still running and the rush of warm air when the door opened made his skin tingle. His teeth were still chattering too bad for speech but he looked up when she spoke. "I called you, but you didn't answer. Your sister said that you left home." He managed a nod. "It's permanant?" He nodded again, rubbing his hands up and down his arms and belatedly realizing that he was getting the nice leather seat all wet. She smiled and it was just the way he remembered it. "Good. I need a roommate." His mouth gaped open but before he could talk she put the car in gear and they drove off.
An hour later Midir was standing under the warm spray of the shower, sighing happily as the cold was washed away. Desh was out in the kitchen of the apartment, putting the coffee on while he washed his hair out. He'd just stepped out of the shower and was wrapping a towel around his waist when her voice came from behind him. "I was in Europe. But I missed you, so I moved here." Startled he spun around, his hair whirling around him, some strands slapping against his chest. She just stood there, looking at him. And then her hand stretched out, took his. He followed along behind her as she walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. The door she lead him through was to a bedroom. Her bedroom. Midir stood looking around and taking in the familiar sight of her dresser and mirror, the computer desk, the stereo. And then the whisper of clothing being dropped made him look back to her just in time for her to press up against him as she pulled away the towel. It was all the invitation he needed. His arms slid around her even as she caught his lips in a deep kiss. Two steps back and she tumbled onto the bed, pulling him down with her. This was what he had missed and what he had been remembering. It felt so good to hold her again, to feel her warm body chasing away the last of the chill. "Desh..." She smiled, wriggling up against him in just the right way to drive him crazy. "Brat,' he growled and then kissed her again, hard and deep, his hands roaming over every inch of skin that he could reach. He pulled back and looked her over, smiling. A splash of black down near her hip caught his attention and he took a better look. Scrawled across the pale skin was his name tattooed in pitch black ink. He looked up at her. "That must have hurt." She stroked one hand up and down his spine. "It was worth it." And then she was kissing him again, rubbing her body against his, fingers tangling in his hair. It wasn't long before her legs were wrapped around his waist and she was begging for him. "Midir, please! I've waited long enough for you." A nod, another hard kiss and then he was slowly sliding into her, groaning softly. "God you're so good." She wriggled her hips and he gasped before thrusting hard, forcing himself inside of her. Desh moaned, nimble fingers sliding over his back, her tongue rasping up his throat as he set a steady, firm pace. Soon nothing else existed other than the feel of Desh beneath him, her petit body pressed against his as he thrust in and out of her warmth. He put everything he knew into this, trying to give her the same pleasure he was feeling, kissing her, stroking her skin, sliding a hand down to stroke her as he buried himself in her over and over. It was over all too soon. Desh arching up against him, her body trembling as she reached her climax, dragging Midir over the edge with her. He thrust into her one last time before groaning her name as his body shuddered.

And it's been awhile
Since I could hold my head up high
And it's been awhile
Since I said I'm sorry

When he was finially able to move, Midir propped himself up and looked down at her. Desh's nails were still dug into his skin and he loved every second of it, loved her. "Desh," He whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He was petting her hair now, fingers brushing through the short mussed locks. "I never should have left." She shushed him with a finger pressed to his lips and then pulled him down to cuddle. "Just don't leave me again." He rolled onto his back, pulling her tight. "I'm here to stay this time."
Now things were perfect. As they drifted off to sleep, Midir caught the light scent of Desh's perfume and smiled. French vanilla. Very addicting.

There was a light breeze blowing, teasing the violet hair of the young woman who bent to lay a datapad at the bottom of the elaborately carved headstone. She placed a kiss on the cheek of the man who's hologram was embedded in the stone, staying a few quiet moments and then leaving as silently as she had come. The words on the screen of the datapad glowed softly in her absence.

"Dear Vlademar,

I'm sorry if this letter is jumbled. You must understand that sometimes, putting my thoughts in order isnt easy.

It's been just over two weeks now. Life... is hard without you. Every night I go to sleep hoping to wake up in the morning and find out that this has all been a bad dream. But every morning I wake up and it's not. I miss you so much.

I wanted to tell you something, I wish you were really truly here for me to say it. I only just found out. I thought that I was just sick, a stomach virus. But it's something far better. I know the doctors told me I could never have children but some how... Love, I'm about two months along now. You're a daddy, Vlad, two healthy little babies. I have to be careful with myself now. I've been stressed and my body isn't in the best of shape because of that. I have friends that are helping, but friends are no replacement for you. I promise, I'll be a good mother, I'll love them both so much but I just wish that you were here to love them too. I'll tell them all about you though. My children aren't going to grow up not knowing their father.

I called to tell my brother, Midir, the news and my mother found out. She won't let me talk to anyone else in the family, told me it was my own damn fault for being a von Ismay's little whore. I think it's safe to say that I won't ever be going home again.

Love, I'll be honest. Up until I found out about my pregnancy, I'd been very seriously thinking about joining you. When I got the news about you, my heart just went cold. This has been one of the first times that I've really felt a semblance of calm and sanity in myself. I still miss you so much but I know that I'm not entirely alone any more. One thing stays the same though and it always will. I love you. I know our vows were "Until death do us part", but I lied. I loved you then, I love you now and I will love you until the end of time. And I will always tell our children how much I love you.

Forever your friend, lover and wife,
Taliesen von Ismay"

"You resigned today."
He looked up from the datapad on the desk to his wife's green eyes.
"Yes, I did. Wilhelm is more than capable of taking over and I no longer have any interest in the position."
She crossed the room, her braid of violet hair swirling behind her like some sort of tail, a contrast to the black of her clothing.
"Why you didn't discuss this with me?"
"It was my choice to make, Tali. I didn't really see a reason to involve you.", his blue eyes narrowed. "Something about this displeases you."
She sat on the edge of the desk, studying him.
"A little, yes. Mostly that you never mentioned it."
He didn't say anything, just shrugged and then absently brushed stray lint from his pant legs.
"Vlademar, you were the leader of the bloody government. You didn't think that I'd at least like to know about this from you, rather than reading it in the news?", her eyes flashed a little, a warning of storms on the horizion.
His own eyes grew dark and he stood, towering over her.
"This is about my social position is it? Funny, I thought you didn't care about things like that. You claimed not to in regards to my father anyways. Or was that just talk to get my attention?", he stepped out from behind the desk, stalking across the room and then back again. "What? Are you worried that you won't be able to live your life of luxury anymore?" And suddenly he was looming over her, his voice a low growl. "You told me you didn't care about money or power. Nice words Taliesen."
Before Vlad could move away, her eyes had softened and she had caught his hand, pulling him in to craddle him in her arms, holding him close.
"I meant it. I don't care about the money or power." She pressed a kiss to his temple, rubbing one hand over his spine. "I just wish you had told me about it yourself. Reading it in the news reports was a bit of a shock."
He looked at her quietly, steel blue eyes studying her face. Taliesen smiled a little and then gave him a soft kiss. "Vlad, love, you know I'll support you no matter what you choose to do. Just give me a bit of a warning next time you want to do something this drastic?"
She received a mute nod and smiled.
When he finally spoke his voice was soft. "You're not mad at me?"
"Mad at you? Of course not Vlademar. I love you too much to be mad at you."
He rested his head on her shoulder, hugging you tight and whispering, "I love you too Tali. I do."
An impish smile flitted across her face and she purred softly in his ear, "Maybe now we can go on that honeymoon of ours. No more paperwork getting in the way."
He had to chuckle at that, scooping his petit wife into his arms and carting her off in the general direction of their sleeping quarters. "Storinal's supposed to be quite nice this time of year."