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writers_muses Prompt 64
Nov. 30th, 2008 07:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_pretty_fire“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.”
The older vampire smoothed down her new dress, trying to ascertain how it looked without the benefit of a reflection. The previous owner had been reflection enough, but she was now lying limply in the corner of the shop and was no longer particularly useful. She should have known better than to bring Drusilla along on a shopping trip. She was a sweet thing – at times, at least – but she had no concept of the finer things in life. Drusilla adored rich silks and beautiful dresses, but she’d forget all about them as soon as she spotted an auspicious star or an apparently remarkable flower. It was enough to drive Darla – who was immaculately dressed regardless of where and when they were – to distraction.
“My William breathes,” Drusilla remarked, rising to her feet and gliding towards Darla, “When he’s asleep. I think he forgets what he is. Or that he hasn’t had enough time to learn yet.”
“You aren’t William either,” Darla pointed out, watching as Drusilla traced the gilt frame of the mirror with long white fingers. She seemed fascinated by the patterns she found. Little cupids with their cubby faces and drawn bows and typically stylised roses. Drusilla could make the perfectly dull extraordinary. If you couldn’t see through her eyes – and Darla firmly believed that no one else in the world looked at the universe through eyes like Drusilla’s – it was nothing short of irritating. It was a miracle her new little ‘pet’, William, could put up with it. She gave them a decade at the most.
“Then who am?” Drusilla asked, “I made William and Daddy made me. I can feel his blood inside me. Am I him, then? Or am I nothing at all? Just smoke and stardust.”
She drew her stare away from the mirror as she spoke, gazing at Darla with wide black eyes. It was downright unsettling, as if she could see something that Darla had managed to miss. (Actually, given Drusilla’s Sight, that was probably very likely, but Angelus made sure she reported any visions directly to him. He indulged the girl from time to time – when she had ridiculous whims about buying dolls or siring poets, for example – but she was still his pet, and she had to remain obedient. He would never let her get ahead of herself and it didn’t occur to Drusilla to argue.)
“You’re Drusilla,” said Darla, sharply. She turned away from the intensity of the other vampire’s gaze, studying the accessories spread out on the table behind her. “What else matters?”
“I can’t see myself in the looking glass.”
“None of us can.”
“Is that because the mirrors make us? Position them properly, and you can create all the vampires with a single beam of moonlight …”
“Smoke and mirrors,” said Darla, with a shake of her head. “You’re still thinking of the magic show Angelus took us to.”
“It was such a beautiful show. I still have the magician’s blood under my nails.”
“Then you should wash your hands. Now,” Darla stopped, turning back to Drusilla and holding up two pairs of lace gloves, “Which do you prefer? The red or the black?”
“The red. They bring out the blood in your veins.”
“Not really the look I was going for, Dru.”
“Oh.” The girl paused, considering the question again. “The black, then. They’re prettier.”
Prompt: “I am merely a mirage, a shimmering ghost in the heat. I am made of nothing but smoke and mirrors.”
Word Count: 588
“Drusilla, you’re dead,” said Darla tartly, “You don’t need to breathe.”
The older vampire smoothed down her new dress, trying to ascertain how it looked without the benefit of a reflection. The previous owner had been reflection enough, but she was now lying limply in the corner of the shop and was no longer particularly useful. She should have known better than to bring Drusilla along on a shopping trip. She was a sweet thing – at times, at least – but she had no concept of the finer things in life. Drusilla adored rich silks and beautiful dresses, but she’d forget all about them as soon as she spotted an auspicious star or an apparently remarkable flower. It was enough to drive Darla – who was immaculately dressed regardless of where and when they were – to distraction.
“My William breathes,” Drusilla remarked, rising to her feet and gliding towards Darla, “When he’s asleep. I think he forgets what he is. Or that he hasn’t had enough time to learn yet.”
“You aren’t William either,” Darla pointed out, watching as Drusilla traced the gilt frame of the mirror with long white fingers. She seemed fascinated by the patterns she found. Little cupids with their cubby faces and drawn bows and typically stylised roses. Drusilla could make the perfectly dull extraordinary. If you couldn’t see through her eyes – and Darla firmly believed that no one else in the world looked at the universe through eyes like Drusilla’s – it was nothing short of irritating. It was a miracle her new little ‘pet’, William, could put up with it. She gave them a decade at the most.
“Then who am?” Drusilla asked, “I made William and Daddy made me. I can feel his blood inside me. Am I him, then? Or am I nothing at all? Just smoke and stardust.”
She drew her stare away from the mirror as she spoke, gazing at Darla with wide black eyes. It was downright unsettling, as if she could see something that Darla had managed to miss. (Actually, given Drusilla’s Sight, that was probably very likely, but Angelus made sure she reported any visions directly to him. He indulged the girl from time to time – when she had ridiculous whims about buying dolls or siring poets, for example – but she was still his pet, and she had to remain obedient. He would never let her get ahead of herself and it didn’t occur to Drusilla to argue.)
“You’re Drusilla,” said Darla, sharply. She turned away from the intensity of the other vampire’s gaze, studying the accessories spread out on the table behind her. “What else matters?”
“I can’t see myself in the looking glass.”
“None of us can.”
“Is that because the mirrors make us? Position them properly, and you can create all the vampires with a single beam of moonlight …”
“Smoke and mirrors,” said Darla, with a shake of her head. “You’re still thinking of the magic show Angelus took us to.”
“It was such a beautiful show. I still have the magician’s blood under my nails.”
“Then you should wash your hands. Now,” Darla stopped, turning back to Drusilla and holding up two pairs of lace gloves, “Which do you prefer? The red or the black?”
“The red. They bring out the blood in your veins.”
“Not really the look I was going for, Dru.”
“Oh.” The girl paused, considering the question again. “The black, then. They’re prettier.”
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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Date: 2009-01-02 06:34 pm (UTC)