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[Hephaistion]

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*OOC note - written several years ago on another shard. Hephaistion on Atlantic is not vamp & I do admit vague references toward Anne Rice's 'Interview With The Vampire' for those who may recognize them.*


Fingers curling upon the black haunches of death’s awakening I slowly opened my
eyes, night’s shadows sighing in soft waves against my nakedness. The uneven granite
steps atop which I lay profused me with an uncommon sensation of raw chill and sharp
tactility. Disorientation cluttering my efforts to distinguish reality I pulled myself up to a
sitting position leaning back against the gray stone wall behind me. This change in
posture provided no accommodation, however. My vision had become blindingly acute
and surrounding sounds assailed my ears with excrutiating definition.

I was consumed with pain. As it subsided fear took its place accompanied by a
hunger so ravenous that it surpassed the severity of physical torture I’d just endured. I
braced a hand against the wall easing myself to my feet, the world threatening to
withdraw from my consciousness. I could make no sense of any of this. Why had I
awakened upon the steps of my former master’s stronghold unclothed in the middle of the
night? I felt as though I’d been in another place only moments before, but as to where
that was I could not recall. It mattered little now compared to the avaricious appetite
driving me down the steps and through the heavy iron doors toward the kitchen.

A slab of raw meat on the counter drew my immediate attention. Shoving the cook
out of my way I took it full into my grasp raising it to my mouth with desperate need, but
no sooner had I swallowed than it came rising back out of my stomach, my body
convulsing in savage refusal as I vomited what I had devoured. Staring at the waste upon
the floor the taste of bile and blood mixed in my throat, its sanguine flavor inexplicably
enticing. I looked up at the woman standing half the room’s distance away. A sudden
unaccustomed desire to slice her throat pressing hard against my will, my teeth felt
strangely different as though somehow sharpening, growing. “What is happening?” I
cried running from the room. “What monster has been made of me?”

I spotted a cloak on the floor and grabbed it, tossing the welcome covering
haphazardly over my shoulders as I fled out the door. The night was humid, suffocating,
and yet again sounds assailed me with bitter disregard for my newborn sensitivity to
them. The insatiated hunger gnawed relentlessly as I made my way home barely able to
concentrate on the path due to its prostrating intensity.

Once within the confines of my abode I attempted release from the horrid starvation,
but over and over no matter the fare I could keep nothing down. Even water strangled me
past the ability to swallow it fully without choking.

I finally sought refuge in my bedchamber. Everything there was familiar, yet strangely
foreign. Most vexing was the desk covered with maps, a sextant beside them. I could not
discern why I would have such things in my possession. Approaching the bed I noticed a
book on the pillow. Lifting it into my hands the thick black leather binding felt alive
beneath my fingertips, so acute had my sense of touch become. A soft ray of light danced
upon the windowsill reaching gracefully sweet to the floor. Relieved by the sudden
realization that dawn was at last approaching I swallowed down the dire hunger still
clutching at my core and walked toward the sun’s blessed whisper.

The acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted my nostrils while, with equal magnitude, a
strong sensation of searing heat raced up my arms. With stunned horror I looked to find
smoke rising from my skin and, beneath it, the feeling of cells converting molten. I screamed
backing away in agonized terror and remembering nothing more until well after
sunset.

Opening my eyes upon a stream of silver I instinctively withdrew, pulling into a fetal
position against the memory of my last encounter with light. Reluctant to ascertain the
extent of damage done I switched my focus to the preponderant hunger commanding
gratification with continuing persistence. Why was it I could not partake of food and
drink without repugnance and regurgitation? As I stared at the moonbeam still
playing fearfully upon the recollection of my burning flesh yet another remembrance leapt
to the forefront. How pleasing had been the taste of raw meat in my throat after vomiting.
It suddenly occurred to me that this compromising craving was not for food, not for
water. It was for blood!

*****

“Good evening, Dierdre.” I smiled at the cook as I advanced my step. “I was home
just now and a soft memory beckoned me back to your side. There was a day not long
ago when I walked in here searching for something to eat after spending a week wrapped
in illness. You gave me a plate of food, but I wasn’t able to keep it down so retired back
to my bed. Do you remember?”

The woman’s trepidation obvious in the gaze she rested upon me, I lifted my hand
toward her face, my sleeve sweeping across her bosom where it was slightly exposed
above her coral hued bodice. She allowed my touch which was purposefully gentle,
comforting, deliberate. “You followed and, believing me asleep, stood at my bedside
watching my chest rise and fall in rhythmic match to the desire racing through your
veins.”

Without allowing her the opportunity for reply I captured her mouth with my own,
plying my tongue along the fullness of her lips. Slowly, so very slowly, I released my
kiss, lowering my head toward her neck, toward the pulsing which swiftly quickened as I
drew closer. Once again I felt my teeth changing, elongating, reaching. Consumed by the
scent of her fear and my desperate need to end the starvation I brought my teeth against
her skin, piercing slightly, drawing blood. The sanguine sweetness filled my senses to
extreme, the promise of satiation taunting pursuance. Her screams half drove me mad as
I sank what I at last perceived were my fangs, deep into her flesh tearing at the life
carrying vessel beneath it. I began to suck, the action mesmerizing in its fluidity.
Dierdre’s rapidly weakening struggle was soothing to the tension in my grasp. I was
drowsing, near falling into weightlessness. Every fiber of my being relaxed as the horrid
hunger dissipated and finally was gone. Alas, so was she, but I found myself little able to
care. Her death had given me life.

How it was that I'd become changed into this blood craving beast was a matter I had
yet to discover.