a_pretty_fire: (ill met by moonlight)
(Based on roleplay with the wonderful [livejournal.com profile] swanseer at [livejournal.com profile] realityshifted.)

Drusilla was just like Goldilocks. She didn’t have the right hair and she couldn’t abide porridge, but the stories ... oh, yes. She always got the stories right.

Too hot, too cold and just right. )

Prompt: "We are alone, you and I. How unusual."
Word Count: 1,592
a_pretty_fire: (ill met by moonlight)
Chile was a popular destination for vampires. It didn’t have the vibrancy of Brazil or the history of Peru, but it had an ample supply of shadowy old buildings and pretty little flower girls. William – who was either twenty four years or six months old, depending on how you wanted to measure age – had been sired during a holiday trip to Santiago, and now aimed to make sure that his ‘mother’ enjoyed everything the country had to offer.

It wasn’t an easy task. Drusilla was petulant and unpredictable, and she certainly wasn’t a patient teacher. William had no idea what sort of shoes he had been made to fill, but the older vampire made it painfully clear that he would never really succeed.

He wished he didn’t love her so much, but everything had changed when she’d lured him into a quiet alleyway behind an even quieter hotel. What else did he have now?

Drusilla was currently seated in the centre of a room in an abandoned warehouse, sprawled elegantly across a white divan with her crimson dress spread out around her like a drop of blood in a saucer of milk. She seemed to be in a good mood, although William wasn't entirely sure why. She'd spent most of last night teasing him for his mediocre blood lust.

She seemed to be ... waiting for something.

He wasn't entirely surprised when there was a bang on the door.

"There's somebody outside. Pet."

He didn’t understand why Drusilla was so fond of being called ‘pet’, but following it up with a ‘princess’ was a sure fire way of getting an invitation into her bed, so the young vampire said it as much as possible. Today, however, she snapped her head up, quick as a snake, to stare straight past him and fix her gaze on the door.

“It’s Grandmummy, come to see her little Drusilla,” she breathed, dark eyes shining, “We shall have satin and fine dresses and crumpets for tea.”

She stopped suddenly, sniffing the air.

“And she brings the Angel beast with her. She’s full of him.”

She glanced at the vampire hovering uncertainly at her side.

“Run away, little boy. This isn’t a game for you to play.” )

Prompt: Mother's Love
Word Count: 940
a_pretty_fire: (you're all new again)
They went underground. It wasn’t difficult in a city like LA. People disappeared there everyday and Darla was nothing if not resourceful. She was newly sired, but she felt as ancient and invigorated as ever.

Or she had felt like that. She currently ached all over, her skin – which had been as smooth and white as stone for centuries – marred by burns and her clothes stained with dirt. She was now more determined than ever. They would hide and they would heal and then they would get Angelus back.

All she needed was time, and vampires had plenty of that. If they were careful.

She woke up to find Drusilla mopping her brow with a square of ragged lace. )

Prompt: "Skin is a covering for our immortality."
Word Count: 899
a_pretty_fire: (ill met by moonlight)
Tell us about your name.

Grandmother Darla lost her name. Very careless of her. She didn’t remember to keep in her pocket, where the pixies couldn’t pull at it. Tricky little things, playing games with vampires who let the moon fill their heads with nonsense. Drusilla was too sensible for their tricks. She listened to them, letting them in so she could control where they wandered.

She can’t remember if her name has always been Drusilla, though. )
a_pretty_fire: (to her own tune)
The Lunatic and the Poet

1. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
A Midsummer Night's Dream: Act V, Scene I

The Royal London Hotel was the most sumptuous building William had ever been in. He’d been in nice buildings before, of course, but only thanks to the social circles he’d desperately tried to move in. This was different. He wasn’t that person anymore, for a start. No more cringing, no more clinging on at the edges of society. He was going to show the world who William Pratt could be.

Although he needed to work on the name. It wasn’t very ... vampiric, was it? )
a_pretty_fire: (killer)
Drusilla has always wanted a daughter. Or another sister. Maybe the girl can be both, she hasn’t decided yet?

She doesn’t need to, either. Vampiric families don’t work like that. Darla is more than her grandmother. Spike has never been a son alone. And how could anyone try to label her dear bad daddy?

There’s no need to get caught up in details. )

Prompt: ‘Different’
Word Count: 517
a_pretty_fire: (family)
We're not a tree. We're a knot. All of us linked together, hand in hand and blood to blood. We have the same roots and leaves and branches. I don't know how I can draw it.

Princess's Family )
a_pretty_fire: (you're all new again)
“Sometimes I think I’ll disappear. I’ll forget to breathe, and then I’ll be swallowed up into nothing.”

“Drusilla, you’re dead,” said Darla tartly, “You don’t need to breathe.” )

Prompt: “I am merely a mirage, a shimmering ghost in the heat. I am made of nothing but smoke and mirrors.”
Word Count: 588

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April 2012

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