Chapter Text
The heart searches for a reason to beat, much like the soul looks for a reason to live.
What a weak thing, the heart is. The mockery that comes from having an immortal body possess such a thing. What is immortality if not forever? And what is a heart if not an impulsion to never live at all.
The soul lives forever, an apt accompaniment to the immortal vessel. One immortal part for another. But the heart… Oh, the heart. So pitiful. Possessing a desire to love and be loved, a desire to put itself at risk of an ache that will wound deeply enough to leave a heavy, pulsating scar. Humans are adorable with their 《It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all》. When their lives are finite, they have it filled with so much life that loss becomes easier to manage. Grief becomes manageable. And limited. Because unless they are unlucky, no person will go through the heartbreak that an immortal being between the mortals will end up withstanding. More time to live, more time to experience, more time to suffer through.
The immortal body that came as a result of being a vampire, a being of the night, that is not that far from humans. There is humanity in their mind, just different methods to surviving when in comparison to that of a human. Their cell production doesn’t slow like that of humans. They don’t go through the aging process the same, their bodies always easy to heal with no long lasting consequences of the injury. Food is a necessity, but they don’t starve if kept unfed. Or at least, they don’t starve at the same pace as a human. The hunger will go for longer, the suffering always there as they weaken slowly. So slowly. No matter how much hatred some vampires may have for their own existence, those feelings don’t reach a point of such dolefulness to inflict such harsh self-punishment. The somberness of immortality is truly undisputable. Can’t rot, can’t starve, can’t die, can’t live, just survive.
And yet, this treacherous thing, this heart, dares beat like it wants this body to live. So naively ignores all the suffering the soul has gone through in continuous hope that light will shine upon this body and that warmth brought upon by emotion and all those silly, metaphorical things will spread once again through this caved in chest, so digged out by pain already that it is a wonder how there could possibly be something else to dig out. Ironic how heartbreak is the fault of the heart itself. This stupid thing dares love and then make all of the body deal with its decision.
Everyone will leave. Everyone. If they don’t, then change your thoughts, because it’s only a matter of time.
Time, this indefinite and continuous system, that exists alongside the vampire, as if destined partners. But it’s a relationship that is nothing but toxic. One suffers from being in it, and the other feels nothing at all, not even pity or guilt over this entity that time and time again suffers because of them. Time waits for no one, it can only provide you with itself. Can only give you time. But he doesn’t want more time. The vampire doesn’t need more time. Doesn’t want any part in this relationship anymore. But he can’t leave. He just can’t. Leaving implies courage, implies willingness to suffer once again, for a prolonged time again. Just pain. Again. Again. Again. Again.
A coward, that’s what he is. Because the humans are absolutely right. To experience love, even if there is a guarantee that it will be lost, is worth it. An existence better than one with no experience in love. It’s why he can’t do anything to stop the passing of time. He can’t bear to lose the love he came to experience, to erase the memories that came to be and that are potentially the only ones existing of some people. He can’t let go of all that he lived even if the moments of just surviving are as painful as they are. So he did the only thing he could feel would do something to ease things. Solitude.
Keep the past but limit the future. No more pain, no more heartbreak, no more… love.
A cottage, in the midst of everything and nothing in synchrony. So much life and green and nature, all these animals that come around to look, curiosity and apprehension in their gazes. The vampire returns it, lets the animals know that he sees them like they see him. And its company of sorts. But it is an area barren of humanity, no one around to meddle, no one around to care. The coven no longer interferes in his life, having accepted his choices after he kept to them for many, many years. Maybe they still care, maybe they don’t and just view him as a non-threatening rogue. It matters not, really. He has no intentions of returning.
Just like there is no one to care, there is no one to love or be loved by. A sad life by the account of many, but it’s one free of any potential heartbreak. The animals around him are all wild, no connection that causes the vampire to ignore the way nature works, at times brutal to her children. The cottage is but a large object, with no history behind it. No past family, no past lover, no memory associated with it aside from the part of his life he has spent there. It’s small, as every cottage is, cozy in its size. Natural tones as there was no need to decorate it for its overall existence is pretty at its simplest. So dainty.
Waking up is as easy as going to sleep. The day plays out much the same every time. A routine built from years spent repeating it. It is a calm life, soothing to the soul and unexciting to the heart. It beats in his chest, hoping for its beating to have a purpose again. One beyond aiding the body to keep shape, to keep the rot away by feeding the fleshy vessel what it needs to keep functioning at its best. But all that it does currently is that it's the core of the body, sharing importance with the soul. Rotten from the defiance towards mortality, as there should be no being that goes beyond the limit all entities should oblige by.
Unless misfortune falls upon the person and takes them from the world early, then the best show of mortality is when it is naturally proven. When the heart grows tired and stops, no longer feeding the rest of the body with what it needs, life fades away. But for the vampire, it doesn’t work like that. The natural aspect of mortality is unattainable to the vampire. His heart never stops, just beats, and beats and beats, waiting for what his soul has agreed with him to avoid.
So as he goes on with another day, reaching the end of it with a monotonous speed, he ignores the rush of his blood through his veins, as his heart thumps in his chest, and prepares to eat. It’s a nice time, the strong metallic flavor arousing some satisfaction from his taste buds. It’s a bit of work to get his hands on it, but he can just get it in bulk and remain stocked for long enough that it’s worth it. He also remains satiated for quite some time, most likely due to his calm life, not expending too much energy on unnecessary things. He looks out the windows, seeing a roe deer run off along the side of the forest before diving into it. Fidgety little things they sometimes are. But the vampire can’t fault them. So many sounds, so much presence all together, that they need to be on alert. Can’t allow themselves to get hurt, now can they? The vampire smiles. The comparable life goal creates a certain kinship between the immortal being and the mortal ones. Both are taking steps to avoid ache in their lives.
But maybe he should have given more thought to the escape instead of just considering the creature as merely being skittish from its survivalist existence. Not all that affects nature is nature itself. But the vampire thought nothing of it, isolation so expected from its airtight creation, from keeping his presence unknown as much as possible when interacting with others and his existence occuring away from the trails that others would use to move around the forest. Anything that could be off about the environment would simply be ignored, as it was so deeply assured in his mind that his effort in achieving solitude would leave him remaining alone for the remainder of his stay, that others being there was merely seen as improbable, maybe even impossible.
But unbeknown to him, in the midst of the sounds of nature; the scurrying of small critters, the singing of birds, the wind rushing through the foliage of the greens of the forest, footsteps could be heard. And as the day starts settling into dusk, an entity comes out of the nature setting, now with a view unobscured by the canopy of the trees, and peers at the house that kept a heart safe.
Would this disruption of safety put said heart in precarious situations once again?