justprompts December Prompt

[a_pretty_fire]

1. “Thomas only has eyes for you, you know,” Anne whispered and her sister blushed profusely, giggling behind her hand. Drusilla was a good Catholic girl, but she was also a teenager. Some reactions are instinctive and can’t be subverted by any amount of piety. “He’s been watching you all evening.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Anne! If he is looking at me, why hasn’t be asked me to dance yet?”

“Maybe he’s shy?” she suggested, but, even as she spoke, the boy stepped away from the wall and started to move towards them. “Ah. Not too shy, then.”

Drusilla flushed crimson, looking down at the hands folded neatly in her lap and closing her eyes.

She could still see James, with his gentle smile and kind eyes. They’d played together as children, and, in her weaker moments, she couldn’t help but imagine their children playing together one day.

And then there was Mary Oldfield, clutching his arm. The church bells were ringing, and the laughing guests were tossing rose petals over the newly married couple as they passed …

The newly married couple?

She opened her eyes.

“Drusilla?” James leaned over her, his handsome face wearing a frown of confusion, “Are you alright? Do you need some air? I was going to ask you to dance …”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” she said, smiling softly, “I’m afraid I don’t really feel like dancing. Mary Oldfield doesn’t have a partner yet. Why don’t you ask her?”

2. “Look at the moon. It’s never been so bright.”

Shaking the soil out of her hair, Drusilla moved barefoot across the graveyard. Angelus watched her, silhouetted against the flaming ruins of the convent. His masterpiece. Oh, she was gorgeous.

“How are you feeling, Dru?”

“Oh, wonderful. It’s so beautiful, Daddy!”

“Did you just call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t you like it?” She stepped closer to him. “I’m hungry, Daddy.”

“Hungry? Oh, well, we’ll go and see if we can find you a nice little choir boy …”

She placed her hand on his chest.

“I’d rather have you, Daddy.”

3. “They’re dead, Drusilla.”

The girl looked up at Darla, her dark eyes wide and innocent. She had been sired less than a fortnight ago, and she had already secured a permanent place in Angelus’s affections. It infuriated Darla no end, although she couldn’t deny that there was something endearing about the girl, who coupled a remarkable bloodlust with a terribly child-like view of the world. She was currently kneeling on the stone floor of their present dwelling – a ruined castle outside Boskovice – and painstakingly arranging dead roses in a broken vase.

“You don’t think Daddy will like them?”

“Angelus doesn’t really like flowers.”

“They were red. They’re brown now.”

“So I can see.”

“Like paper. So fragile. They break when you touch them.”

Was it supposed to be some sort of metaphor? Darla didn’t think that Drusilla – who had attached herself to Angelus with a single-minded sort of adoration – was capable of holding that sort of grudge.

“Aren’t they beautiful? Marigolds for grief, daisies for innocence, roses for love ...”

Drusilla stood up gracefully, gliding across the floor towards Darla with a very strange smile on her face.

“Would you like one?”

4. “Is he dead, William?”

“No. Not yet.” The newborn vampire smiled, turning to look at Drusilla with shining eyes. “I bet he bloody wishes he was, though.”

“Bloody,” she repeated, stepping forward to run a gloved hand across his shoulder, “Are you going to play with him?”

“I’m not really sure what to do next. I’m a bit new to this.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Drusilla, resting her head on William's shoulder, “You can learn.”

The bloodstained figure on the ground whimpered and she lifted up her skirts as she stepped daintily past him.

“Should I pass you one of the railway spikes?”

5. “Are you afraid?”

The little girl nodded numbly, too frightened to move away from the woman who was advancing slowly towards her. The woman was beautiful, dressed in fine red satin, but her eyes were far too dark. They reflected the moonlight, and the firelight, but they had no light of their own.

“Don’t worry. You don’t need to be scared. I’m here. I’ll look after you.”

She nodded again, clutching her doll to her chest.

“I’ll punish you if you’re naughty, but we’ll have cakes every day when you’re good.”

“Mama said I’m not allowed to have too many cakes. They’re bad for you.”

The woman snapped her gaze to the child, as if she was noticing her for the first time.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

A few minutes later, Drusilla emerged from the alleyway, humming to herself.

“Come along Miss Edith,” she said, cradling the doll with one arm, “I have to introduce you to the rest of the family.”

6. Drusilla woke up to find herself lying with one arm resting lazily across Darla’s waist. The other woman still slumbered, her face largely obscured by a curtain of fair hair and her nightdress torn. Drusilla smiled as she traced the broken strap with her finger. She remembered the night before with wonderful – not to mention astonishing – clarity, and that had been one of her favourite parts.

(She wasn’t sure where Spike was, or Angelus, but, at the moment, it didn’t really matter.)

The Immortal, who did not sleep, turned in the doorway, fixing his piercing gaze on her face.

Propping herself up on her elbows, and taking great care not to wake Darla, Drusilla opened her mouth to say goodbye. Words, however, didn’t seem adequate. She blew him a kiss instead, before curling back up beneath the blankets and resting her head on her Grandmother’s shoulder. She could almost feel her heartbeat.

7. “Grandmother is upset.”

Spike stretched out laconically on the bed, patting the pillows next to him in a vain attempt to persuade Drusilla to join him. She stood on the other side of the room, staring out of the window and blissfully ignoring the curtain that obscured her view.

“She’s just had another tiff with Angelus, pet,” he said, “That’s all. He’s probably in a bad mood on account of that massacre we went and had without him.”

“All the little gypsies,” Drusilla murmured, giggling and finally turning to face Spike. “You made such a wonderful mess.”

“I always do,” he said, as she made her way back across the room and pinned him suddenly to the mattress, “We don’t need Darla to have fun. Or Angelus.”

“We’re a family.”

“Meaning we do what they say. We don’t need them, Dru.”

“Did you have another fight with Daddy?” she asked curiously, unbuttoning his shirt.

“No!” he exclaimed, “I’m not Darla. I mean it. We should strike out on our own. Stretch our wings.”

“I couldn’t leave Daddy.”

“Everyone has to fly the nest sooner or later, Princess.”

“Princess?”

“That’s what you are. My Princess.”

She smiled.

“Can Miss Edith come with us when we leave?”

8. “No.”

“I haven’t asked you anything yet,” said Drusilla musically, guiding the wheelchair across the room towards his bed.

“I’m not using a bloody wheelchair!” Spike snarled.

“Do you want to spend the next three months in bed?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress and stroking his hair tenderly.

“With you next to me?” he grinned, looping an arm around Drusilla’s waist to pull her close enough for a kiss, “I could probably live with it.”

“Naughty Spike. You need to rest.”

“I’m not a bleedin’ invalid.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, nipping his ear and lifting him into a sitting position, “Mummy will make you all better.”

“Fine,” he sighed, allowing her to manoeuvre him into the metal seat, “But only for a few days. Where did you find a wheelchair, anyway?”

“Oh, I stole it from the hospital. I brought you the patient too, if you’re feeling hungry?”

9. “Ah, sorry Dru,” Angelus said, grinning, “Guess you’re not invited.”

She could hear them in the house, chasing after her Xander. Her Xander! They were going to try and take him from her, and Daddy was laughing.

With a snarl of anger, she hurled herself at the other vampire. Still smirking, Angelus hit the tree hard, and Drusilla grabbed him by the collar to hurl him across the garden.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Dru?” he exclaimed, “I didn’t think you had any sanity left to lose!”

“The poem,” she whimpered, pinning Angelus to the ground and beating his chest with her fists, “I need to see how it ends. The poem on his skin …”

She broke off, tossing her head as if she was trying to clear away a buzzing fly.

“Daddy?”

“You gonna let me get up, Dru?”

“Oh, not just yet,” she said, an entirely different expression crossing her face as she wriggled her hips and straddled him properly, “I’ve been a very bad girl.”

10. “My soul is wrath in harsh repose. Midnight descends in raven coloured clothes, but soft, behold! A sunlight beam, cutting a swath of glittering gleam. My heart expands, ‘tis grown a bulge in it, inspired by your beauty effulgent.”

The crowd stared at the vampire on the stage.

At the back of the room, one of the men started up a ragged round of applause. It spread through the crowd like a crackle of wild fire and Spike basked in the glow, beaming.

In the shadows, a slender figure smiled softly.

“Keeping cheering,” Drusilla whispered, tightening her grip on the gang leader’s shoulder, “Or I’ll have to rip your throat out.”

Prompt: Ten Ways to Say 'I Love You'
Word Count: 1587

Comments

[rebcake.livejournal.com]

Fantastic, fanciful, and true! You have created a wonderful group of sketches, each a little jewel. I especially appreciated the addition of Miss Edith to the family, but I can't imagine any of them not being here.

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I really enjoyed writing this piece, and trying to create lots of different snapshots. I'm very glad it worked for you!