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#01 – Days.
It didn’t take long before he took over her sense of time. A day didn’t use to matter to him, a drop in the endless sea. Now he couldn’t be away from her for more than a week without aching.
#02 – Like someone else.
At first, he tried so hard to stifle his emotions, feigning indifference. He could never fool her.
#03 – Price.
She realized soon she would break his heart. Quickly, she extinguished the flicker of guilt in her chest. Men were weak; the vampire had a heart of glass. She had learned to trust no one. Those who wished to keep their hearts intact should know better than to fall for someone like her.
#04 – Dream.
He would often nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck when they embraced. Ugh, she grew weary of it. But she would continue to splay a little of her vanilla-scented perfume behind her ears each morning.
#05 – Crystal moon.
Gazing into her blue eyes, feeling the softness of her skin, he felt like so much more than himself, more than the monster he was; he felt like he could be anything.
#06 – Touch.
It was she who took the first step. Whispering his name, she took his hand in hers and placed it on her breast, on top of her shirt. She could feel him tremble. He gingerly placed his other hand on her face. “Such care for a beast,” she thought, and let her lips seek his.
#07 – Away.
She was gone. No word, no goodbye, no nothing. Had she left him - it couldn’t be – something must have happened to her. She wouldn’t just leave, not his Rhena. For months, he roamed Nazair looking for her, sometimes catching the scent of vanilla, a ray of sunshine landing on raven-black hair, but it was never hers. He felt like his soul was made of paper, threatening to be ripped to shreds by the faintest wind.
#08 – Stumble.
The nightmares weren’t that bad at first; short flashes of their mother pinching her thumb and index finger over the bridge of her nose, seemingly fighting back a migraine whenever Syanna made a prank. Her sister laughing, then crying over a particularly cruel joke.
#09 – Justice.
She was going to kill her. But first, she would take everything from her. Everything that should have been hers. She would start with the wine.
#10 – I told you so.
Curiosity killed the cat. The thought ran through her mind as she followed him into a narrow back alley. She looked around. He was gone. Suddenly, he appeared behind her, closing the distance between them in threatening, long strides. Determination rose in her chest as he cornered her, his fangs glistening in the moon light, his nose transformed into a wrinkled snout. Go on, kill me if you wish, I may even deserve it, she thought, but you can’t hurt me, nothing can, for creatures without souls can’t hurt. Then she saw it, the flicker of fear in his eyes.
#11 – Bitter taste.
Her life as bandit queen was not so bad. Perhaps she should have forgotten everything, started a new life. But there came a point when she thought: You wanted a monster? Then a monster you shall get.
#12 – Animal.
He often tried to draw her features, but he could never capture the spark in her, that flame that warmed his very being but stung him like a whip nonetheless. It wasn’t her fault, she was so strong. He was not enough.
#13 – Bright.
She had to admit he was skilled. The moth pin on his coat – it was exquisite. Golden metal formed to a scull-shaped head, wings of a mosaic of tinted glass pieces. It was fit for royalty. “You made this?” she asked, letting her finger softly graze its contours. “Yes” he answered, his eyes never leaving hers. “Not bad.” She was irritated by how her face must have conveyed her awe. “You can have it,” he said and made a motion to take it off, but she stayed his hand. “No, it fits you better.” He took her hand, that annoying habit of him to be so tender, “I’ll wear it for your sake.”
#14 – Tell.
He could feel it – her pain. She didn’t talk about it, at least not yet, but there was a weight in her heart. He wanted to carry it, all of it.
#15 – Still.
The easiest way to bind a person to you was to treat them coldly, only to turn the heat back on and be kind and gentle. It was a lesson she'd learned early in life. She would do it all the time to her sister, pull her hair, or whisper something vile in her ear to make her cry, then take a few steps back to observe. Walk away. Then, as little Anarietta followed, be generous with embraces and smiles. It worked every time. But not with him. He never followed, but stayed in her proximity until she eventually grew tired of her own game and turned back to him.
#16 – Curse.
She didn’t have the intention of seducing him that first night as she followed him through the streets of Metinna. It was the sense of wanting to see that which could be something like herself; to meet another monster. What came after was… well, she couldn’t help it. It was all a game anyway, and making men crawl at her feet was one of her favourite ways of wasting time.
#17 – Rise.
She was the first not to turn away in fear when knowing what he was. Instead, she seemed… curious. Bold. She asked him questions, they would share small conversations, words and sentences bouncing back and forth until his whole being flowed with the strangest sensation. She fascinated him. It wasn’t his first encounter with a female human, he discovered from an early age they tended to be drawn to him, but this was the first one to actually make him want to… stay. Right there. Talking.
#18 – Gentle.
She was his, his Rhena, he would slaughter anyone who hurt as much as a hair on her head.
#19 – Close.
How was it possible to be so powerful and yet so weak? She knew she needed to get out of this, soon. She contemplated talking to him; it’s not you, it’s me, but no, the beast would never listen to that kind of hogwash. He would never accept her dismissal; it was better to disappear. She’d stayed in this shithole of a country too long anyway.
#20 – Sight.
Funny how she’d never been loved like this, perhaps apart from her sister, how she’d probably never be loved like this again. The knowledge weighed her down like a wet fur coat. She almost felt it, the spark of sadness from her inability to seize such affection, but anger rose in her belly, no; he could blame himself for falling for someone as twisted as her.
#21 – Rage.
He came to her once giving her Beggartick blossoms, another time small cakes with dried apricots and figs, and how dared he peer into her mind like that, how did he know they were her favourites?
#22 – Tread light.
He once took her to a hideout at twilight, the sun setting over the sea, the horizon thorny by upset waves. He always did that, tried to show her the beauty in things, in the world, it was unbearable. “Don’t you ever feel like tearing the world apart, Dettlaff?” She clenched her fists. “I’d do for you,” he answered, “if you asked me to.”
#23 – Broken.
He lamented her disappearance, his self-loathing burning in his chest. A monster did not deserve love. Did not deserve companionship, not the softness of her touch, her skin. Had he really thought – Then, years later, the first letter came.
#24 – Air.
She was surprised by how he didn’t seem to mind human children, to almost like them, even. Ugh, even as a child herself she’d been wary of other children, their sodding openness, their affections and willingness to love and trust, their emotional outbursts and easily broken hearts. It had been so easy to manipulate her friends as a child. Then she realized, his inability to lie, to deceive; he was like them.
#25 – The beast.
He remembered a specific child, a small hand offering him an apple in the streets of Rivia. He was much younger then. He’d later found the boy’s mutilated body. He sought the creature who did it for weeks, killing it in the most painful way he could think of.
#26 – Laced dress.
Father, don’t walk away. Father, please. Mother? Please don’t look at me that way. Like I was a monster. And you, Anarietta, go away! Go away, no, don’t embrace me like that, I hate you. I hate you. Little sister.
#27 – Vision.
She didn’t give him a moment’s thought after leaving. She’d always been good at that; breaking up without remorse. Men and their affections were entertaining, but ultimately useless. Until her plan for the knights hatched in her head. She realized he could come of good use.
#28 – Root.
To hell with Touissant. It could burn to ashes for all she cared. Perhaps she would be the one to burn, it mattered little to her.
#29 – I shall lift my arms.
The dreams changed, became more vivid; calloused fingers taken out of an armoured glove and digging into her small shoulder, the pang of hunger, the frost creeping into her very bones as she tried to sleep on the ground, not knowing if any kind of animal of monster would attack her. She didn’t know what was strongest, her hate or her fear.
#30 – Fire.
She would sometimes ask him to hurt her, to make her bleed even. Harder. There was a dark glint in her eyes during those moments that chilled him. He wanted to give her everything, she wanted the monster. There were times when he obeyed and gave her what she asked for. It always left him hollow.
#31 – Leap.
Why did Anarietta always get the nicest toys, the prettiest dresses, the most lavish jewellery? Why did mother caress her sister's hair but never hers? Oh, how she hated them all! The worst part - her sister would come sneaking into her room at night, giving her all her toys, her diadems, her dresses. She would pinch her hard to let her know she didn’t care about her gifts. She was too big to wear her little sister’s stupid clothes anyway. Then, they would fall asleep together, slender arms around small necks.
#32 – Cage.
Not even once did she ponder whether the idea of staging her kidnapping and blackmailing the vampire was a bad idea. It would give her the results she wanted. And her last victim, to be killed in such a way; yes, it was fitting. It wouldn’t compare to the pain she’d had to endure all her life, but it would be enough. Oh, it would be triumphant.
#33 – Being.
He’d always felt like the leaves of a book, some written to be full to the margins, others empty and eluding. He wanted her to open him up and read him, all of him. She never did. It had to be because of him lacking words.
#34 – Scream.
During the days, she felt his presence like a scent surrounding her. He was always near, to be able to get close if she wanted to. It was a heavy burden to bear, this affection the vampire placed on her. Others had been smitten before, of course, but this one wanted to get so close as to penetrate her very soul. Little did he know she had none to offer.
#35 – Distant.
The boy who killed his brother after her lie; she’d scared herself then. She had never believed he would actually do it… But she was soon filled with rage. It wasn’t her fault he was an idiot! She hated them all!
#36 – Ruse.
Oh, he was good at that too, it was a pleasant surprise be left boneless and gasping from his touch. Even so, it soon left her weary; damn his softness, his kisses, such emotions were not for her. Even in bed he was open like a child.
#37 – Blur.
The more he appeared human to her, the lesser she wanted him. She’d still claim her growing distance to him was because of him being a beast.
#38 – Bound.
When he finally reached Touissant, his heart was a bleeding, raw wound. He realized too late his pain called out to others of his kind. Even – could it be? it had been some time since he’d felt Regis' presence. But he had no time for reminiscing with old friends now, he could not fail her.
#39 – Tied.
He tried to brush at the seam of her closed heart with a touch like feathers; stay away, you fool! She hurled insults at him to draw the tenderness out of him. He stopped, and waited. She despised him for his patience, too.
#40 – Broken glass.
She searched for the same darkness as her own, and found it clotted with bright stars. She searched for the roar of a waterfall and found a calm lake, a deep, dark well. She searched for the same chaos that twisted her soul into a maelstrom of hate - she found a tender touch, a trembling hand. She was disappointed.
#41 – Motion.
He’d never had anything but time. Never before had time not been on his side.
#42 – Seen.
During one of those nights when the two of them were out to find some godforsaken place he wanted her to see, they encountered the wolves. The animals snarled at her, their rags standing on end. Her veins froze, hands raised. One of them tried to attack her, but was flung back by a strong arm. A shrill yelp pierced the cool air. The wolves left, low growls rumbling in fur-coated throats. His fangs were out, claws long and gaze black. “Are you all right?” his eyes turned to their normal icy-blue as he transformed. She nodded, heart pounding in her chest.
#43 – Rain.
He’d always found trees to resemble arteries during that time when autumn transforms into winter, when the snow is yet to come. Their naked branches sprawling out in the air as if the sky were flesh, their barren twigs like exposed blood vessels.
#44 – Lost.
Crafting was perhaps the only thing that could take his mind of her, even if only for a few moments, during those long, cursed nights when he waited for more letters to arrive.
#45 – To live, happily ever after.
By the time Regis finally found him, he was so desperate there was hardly anything left but the beast inside him. He came with the witcher. Dettlaff ripped into his friend as he stood in his way of slaying the white-haired man – I can help!
#46 – Innocent.
Perhaps it was the vampire code that made him stay those years with Regis after he found him in the remains of Stygga castle, bleeding himself raw to make the other begin his own regeneration. He only knew no one should have to go through that kind of suffering.
# 47 – Dark and bright.
Sylvia Anna... The realization of the truth seeped into his mind like poison. It ate at his heart until he couldn’t breathe. She placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned and grabbed her by the neck, pushing her body against the wall. You will come to Tesham Mutna and explain all. If you do not, I will raze Beauclair to the ground. This I promise you. You have three days.
#48 – In every raven tress.
Regis always pushed him to explore his more human sides; art, conversation, wine, his love for simple things. He’d wanted to explore the beauty of the human world with her, but there was nothing left of him now. There was only pain, and fire, and blood.
#49 – Vengeance.
The agony did not subdue, it caved into his being like a landslide. Cold rage overcame him as he let himself enclose her in the ruins of Tesham Mutna. It was simple, either she had deceived him, or not. As he closed her non-seeing eyes, he knew he would remain like a tree in the passage between autumn and winter, forever.
#50 – Far from men.
He would never care for the human world again, for he did not understand them. Their lies, their scheming, their bias, their manipulations. The lesser vampires welcomed him back like a long-lost son. It was where he belonged.