Battered Remains PV Continued Elsewhere

That moment of vulnerability was enough for Howard to forget that she was also a predator. She was also human, at least she was at one point, but contrary to the musing of Immanuel Kant people were not innately good. She was forever (or at the very least for a protracted period of time) young and lovely, at her prime but it came at a cost. Forever only able to experience half of eternity in darkness and subsisting on the vitality of others. 

She was stronger than Howard, she had decades to hone her body enough to overpower a teenager. Her fingers would curl around his bicep and she would tighten her grip as she drew him close. Hardly an interlude to romantic commerce. Her hand cupped over his mouth and her body pressed against his. She was ice cold, she did not even feel alive but perhaps in these final moments of Howard's life he would feel more alive than ever. Her hot breath betrayed the chill of her flesh against the flesh of his neck. "But a moment's discomfort for the sake of an eternity," she whispered as her lips brushed against his skin feeling for that throbbing pulse. 

There.

Her fangs would breech her gums, she would taste her own blood. It hurt, as it always did but it was the sort of ache that you got used to like stretching in the morning. Her fangs would plunge into the soft flesh of the boy's supple neck. It would have been a kindness if she had the power of hypnosis like the vampires in the movies had, but nature and death were rarely kind and almost always cruel. His blood had a bitter, salty flavor that she wished to savor as the sweet life-fluid slid down her throat. He struggled, his arm eventually escaping but by then he had weakened as a flurry of slaps tried to swat her away.

His pulse would start to slow.

This is when she would normally stop, that moment where the light left them but they would recover with time. Anemic. Sickly. They would still live, in a matter of days recover. She did not relinquish her grip or retract her fangs as she greedily gulped another mouthful of his blood. 

Today was the day this poor boy would die.

His legs would wobble, his arms would slacken and he would become heavy in her arms as he collapsed. She could feel those last agonal beats of his frenzied heart. Her fangs would withdraw, her tongue trace the mark she had made on his neck. Waste not, want not. She might have been a young vampire in terms of years, at least in comparison to those like her but she knew what she wanted. She knew what she needed. 

She needed a thrall.

There was this brief time, this limbo in which Howard was between life and death. A teeter to either side would define his very existence from hereon. Undeath as a Vampire. Death as a Human. She would release her hand from over his mouth and bring her own wrist before her lips. She would run a single fang along her wrist. The blood that dripped from her own pale skin was thick, viscous and too dark to be right. "Drink," she demanded as she placed her wrist over his mouth. "You have seconds to decide... Drink and live as I, or die a boy in this field."

Reducto because this is a bit descriptive for youngsters. She drained Howard, is now offering him her blood so he does not die but rather becomes a vampire.

Note: This transition is an OC discussed change for Howard done with his consent that is free of coercion. I look forward to the terror he becomes.

“But a moment’s discomfort for the sake of an eternity.”

Howard’s eyes bulged as the quickness of her actions took him by surprise, his shout of shock muffled against her icy palm. Warm air escaped from her mouth, a sharp contrast to the cold lips that explored the flesh of his neck. Poor Howard. A beautiful woman had pressed her lips against his neck for the first time in his short life. However, it was not excitement that caused his heart to hammer, the artery in his neck to throb as blood pumped towards his brain, it was shock and fear. 

Glub-glub, glub-glub, glub-glub, glub-glub!

A sharp intake of oxygen would rush through Howard’s nostrils as her fangs plunged into his jugular. It was that moment when the knife drags across the palm when slipping up in the kitchen, or when the hammer crushes the nail as the strike misses, only multiplied infinitely. In that briefest of moments the stomach drops as all your nerve endings fire. A brief moment before the body can react to the pain it is experiencing, before the mind can process what has just happened. In simpler terms, the “oh fuck” moment.

“Guhhh!”

Howard’s scream was guttural as it escaped his throat and fought against the flesh of her palm.  His fingers, toes, limbs and muscles flexed and spasmed as his body reacted to the pain. His mind went to that special place only those who are mortally wounded or dying experience. She would feel the rush of air against her hand as his breath quickened. His vision would temporarily sharpen before going fuzzy as his mind entered flight or fight, but his fight would be futile. His heart rate quickened as he struggled, but as the blood poured from his neck and into her mouth, the pressure in his veins would drop. Unlike the the movies and tv shows, humans don’t last long when suffering severe blood loss. Death can occur in a matter of seconds.

Glub...glub...glub...glub...glub...glub...glub...glub

It would only take a few moments before Howard’s screams turned into soft moans. Everything slowed down. His eyes searched the scene before him as his hands lazily attempted to push her away.  They searched for a sign of rescue that would not come. The trees moved and swayed in the wind as the moonlight peaked through the empty spaces. It became quiet as his senses dulled, the soft rustle of leaves the only noise left to him. His eyes swam in their sockets as his vision went in and out of focus. Howard’s body tensed a couple more times before going slack in her arms, the rest of his energy being drawn out of his neck. His head fell back against her shoulder as the glaze crossed his eyes, a single tear slide down his cheek. Howard’s last breath would escape his lips in the form of a sob. 

Glub..........glub..........glub..........glub..........

The heart stopped, brain death was not immediate, but it would follow soon. The boy saw double. Not the way one sees when crossing their eyes, but as if two images were layered on top of each other. The first was the scene that his body was currently in. The pale flesh of her wrist approached his face. Dark red blood oozed from the wound. It should have flowed freely, but it did not. It leaked like oil dripping from a puncture in the can. The second vision was a sea of white. There was nothing really to see, it was more a sense than a vision. It was warm, comfortable and inviting. It was that moment one experiences before falling asleep, yet somehow he knew it would be final. All he had to do was close his eyes. All he had to do was accept it. Everything would simply...go away. It is frightening to the living, but as the moment of death drew near, it was all he could yearn for. We are nothing before the spark of life, returning to the void was as easy as blowing out a candle.

“Drink. You have seconds to decide...drink and live as I live, or die a boy in this field.”

The voice echoed from far away, as if coming from down a long tunnel. A drop of blood met his tongue as she pressed her wrist against his lips. It burned the tip of his tongue as it flickered in reaction. Howard’s eyes fluttered as the energy absorbed through the membranes. In his mind, the boy stood in the center of a tunnel. The beautiful nothingness was before him, a quick glance over his shoulder would be a shadow. It was dark, empty and filled his soul with fear. Yet from within the shadow he could see two burning orbs of blood red. Pale fingers stretched towards him, the nails elongated and discolored. He turned to face it, his blue eyes locking with red. Howard could turn away, back towards the nothingness. It promised him an easy passing. It promised him peace. It promised him a chance to remain whole. Yet the eyes before him reflected his true desire. The hand outstretched offered him  a chance to be what he was destined to become, he reached out to grasp it. Howard White faded away. What emerged would be but a shell of what it once was. 

GLUG...GLUG!!!

The boy gasped as the energy flowed back into his body, the lungs pulling in the cool night air. His hands shot up to meet her wrist, pressing it hard against his mouth. He sucked hard against the wound, pulling in mouthfuls of the acidic blood. It burned his throat, down to his belly, then spreading throughout his body as he gulped it down and his heart began to beat again. 

“Ahhhh!” 

He roared into the night as his mouth separated from her wrist, the blood covered his lips and ran down his chin. If she did not further restrain him, he would lurch forward, falling to his hands and knees. Every fiber of his body burned as it began to change. He coughed and sputtered. Two pearly white canines fell from his mouth, empty and bloody gaps left in their wake. His hands reached towards his eyes, gently touching them. A long blink would erase the crystal blue, revealing blood red irises. The newly born creature took a few deep breathes before slowly turning on its knees to face its source of creation. It looked up into her eyes as a stream of blood tears fell down the pale flesh of its face. 

“M-m-master?”

Her teeth plunged into Howard's supple neck. The blood flowed from him readily in steady pulsating bursts that would ultimately slow to a trickle. She could feel his pulse slow, she drank too deeply and too long to leave him in this cold field overnight. She knew that she would turn him the moment she took him into her arms. He would die but death was a beautiful process, one she was intimate with. Howard would be one of the few that would live again as she offered the teen her arm.

The Hufflepuff betrayed the very nature that defined him as a human when he accepted the covenant that Morgantha's blood represented. His heart would stop, but he would not stay dead as he continued to drink that sick, coppery drink. Thick and viscous fluid would run down his throat and settle into his gut. The sensation was electric. He was being reborn, with a shock new life came and it would not be without pain or hunger. Death and birth are merely two sides of the same coin, many enter the world fighting and screaming and many leave the world just the same. Death is not gentle nor is it kind, one does not simply fade into the good night. They claw and they fight and then they fade. 

Howard both died and was born on this same day.

He was drinking too much, they always did. The hunger was blinding. Satiety was hard to achieve without draining a victim dry, it was why so often newborns kill their earliest of victims. She would rip her arm away before he took too much. Her bleeding arm throbbed, her hands clamped over the self inflicted wound that resurrected the youth. Howard fell to his knees and completed his transformation, spitting his canines into the grass bloodied root and all. 

“M-m-master?”

"How dramatic," Morgantha cooed. "I like you, but I do not want you to ever rest on your knees again," she rebuked him with a firm tone. Howard was not forced into a state of compliance but he was not wrong when he called her 'Master.' He would find lashing out against the woman near impossible. It would not be difficult to force the younger man to submit but the most secure chains are the ones we make for ourselves. 

"Hungry?" She inquired but she already knew the answer. She made an obvious motion towards the castle, "you have hundreds of meals waiting for you only a few meters away." He could take the boys in his dorm tonight and have his fill. They would not stand a chance, "Or... you can leave early with me, return in a few months time ready to face them. With the control to kill only when there is purpose in their death and with the power to do so as a choice rather than an act of desperation." It sounded like a choice but there was no choice, it was a bad decision and a decision that did not seem so bad. If he entered the Scottish caste, it would likely be a bloody slaughter. By dawn his dorm mates would be dead, but by sunset Howard would find a stake in his breast. The reckless decision, either one, would benefit her. There was a reason to maintain the masquerade, it was an audacious decision to support the cohabitation vampires and humans. Vampires being recognized by society would be only accepted conditionally, in accordance to their rules. Vampires had every right to feed. To KILL. It was survival of the fittest, not the nicest. If it was up to the Ministry or Solomon for that matter, every last one of them would be living off suckers. 

"Your choice."

Mostly trying to find a sane means of ending this to define your summer and how you deal with this change as you apply in the registry. If you want some terrible hunting threads, always game for a few screaming NPCs. Sorry for my incredible slowness over this summer period.

“How dramatic, I like you, but I do not want you to ever rest on your knees again.” Howard rose to his feet, wrapping his arms around his chest as the flood of new sensations poured through his body. His red eyes met with those of his creator. She did not command him, but her words had a pull that was hard to explain. He could have remained kneeled before her, the words spoken did not force his body into action, however there was a desire to comply. It just seemed that everything would be...easier if he did.  “Okay.” Howard replied simply. 

“Hungry?” The woman asked.

“Yes!” The boy sputtered out, a tone of desperation in his voice as he took a step forward. His eyes were pleading, almost begging as he held his hands cupped together before him like a beggar pleading for a chunk of bread. The hunger was unlike anything he had ever felt before. His stomach did not growl in protest, his mouth wasn’t parched, but as his tongue licked at the corner of his mouth it would lap up the last remnants of her offering. It tingled and sparked all the way down as he swallowed.

Howard jumped and spun on the spot as she motioned behind him, his eyes darting around the scene to find the source of her interest, his hands drew back instinctively, ready to claw whatever it might be. “You have hundreds of meals waiting for you only a few meters away.”

Howard’s gaze fell upon the castle. His arms went slack at his sides as he looked it over. Images of the life before flashed through his mind as he remembered. Ones he had immediately forgotten in his new, almost feral state. The turn had changed him in almost every conceivable way, but the Howard before was still in there somewhere, the faintest of light down a dark and endless hallway. The flash of remembrance made him pause for a moment. Howard held out his arms before him, an almost quizzical look in his eyes. The flesh that had once been so vibrant and full of color now was left pale and a dull gray. The pink  and neatly trimmed nails of his finger now replaced with elongated and discolored ones. He balled his hands into fists, flexing the muscles as he did. They burned and ached from his transformation, but as he felt his arms, Howard would notice and feel a strength that was not there before. A rush of air would pass through his nose as he breathed deeply. The scent was electrifying. It called him forward. His long legs took a step forward, but his foot would meet something in the grass, drawing his eyes to the ground. Howard knelt down to pick up the piece of wood. It was long, smooth, with an elaborately carved handle. He remembered this too as he held it gently in both hands before him, his bright red eyes looking it over. Magic. The instrument that he used to be so closely bonded with now felt foreign in his grip. The low hum and vibrations that flowed through it were no where to be found. Where had they gone? 

“What’s happened to me?” Howard asked without looking at her, his eyes still locked onto the wand in his hands. The question was asked matter of factly. The boy did not mourn the change or his past life. He remembered it, but the feeling were detached.

“Or...” Howard turned his head to the side, listening to her over his shoulder. “You can leave early with me, return in a few months time ready to face them. With the control to kill only when there is purpose in their death and with the power to do so as a choice rather than an act of desperation. Your choice.” 

Howard took another deep breath in. The scent was almost enough to drive him mad. It was so overwhelming in his newfound state, like a child being thrown into a candy store and told everything was free. Where to begin? What to choose? It clouded his mind, the hunger was so deep. 

“It...hurts.” Howard turned to face her, a fresh trickle of blood slipped from the corner of his eye. “I’m...afraid.” He took a quick step towards her, his hands reaching out like a child would for their mother. “Please...” He searched her eyes, “take me with you.”

The castle was full of sweet, warm blood. Full of laughter that could so easily be turned to screams. An endless bounty that called to him likely as it called to her. She was certainly not kind as she took this boy's life and thrust him into this 'new life' one has to wonder if it was an act of mercy or an act of selfishness. She was saving her skin by killing him, she could have kept him dead. It would have been easier. She chose to bring him back, foolishly. Blame impulse. Blame guilt. Blame loneliness. 

Turning Howard was not an impulsive action, Howard was but a cursed creature that fate intended to stand the test of time. That was why Howard was still alive, it was not even a conscious choice but rather the threads of fate that pulled Morgantha like the strings of a puppet. Choice was not always free. She needed to consume him, he was the only one there. He needed to suffer, the fates demanded it. Howard was in the wrong place once again at the right time. 

She asked him if he was hungry, but she already knew the answer. He was ravenous. The hunger would abate with time, but there would be a primal need to hunt and to subdue that would always gnaw at him. It gnawed at her. Without control she would have gone mad and ended a night with a stake in her breast years ago had she simply allowed her madness and appetence to compel her. She did not see herself as a pawn in a greater game as she looked at the teen. Silently she admonish her weakness, knowing that she needed take the boy. In a contest between her life and that of a stranger, she would always chose her own. 

He admitted to feeling scared.

They could not drink here, not on these grounds. Their voracious hungers might be sated, but their lives would also end on this same night. She was not good but she was also nobody's fool. "The beasts of the forbidden wood, vile in taste..." as would the flesh of any vermin taste. "Can assuage the pain until we reach Hogsmede," she explained. Yes, she said we. "Where sweet, warm rivers do run," humans blood.  Ambrosia to her kind.

Yes, it was a timid, clandestine choice compared to the carnage that Howard's birthday could have celebrated. His celebratory bloodbath would have to be belated. The hunt was a part of their nature, an aspect that tethered them in so many ways. Impulses controlled. Pride brandished like a peacock's tail feathers. A silver tongue coupled with a deceptive nature. Howard was no longer human, standing on the fringe of two worlds -- both bathed in darkness.


"We can reach Three Broomsticks by dawn," she offered. She was not dressed to blend in but that did not appear to be a concern or a hardship. She felt at home beneath in that blackened wood and gnarled forest floor that scraped beneath her heel. She had not reached where she once was in terms of power, but her sense of hearing as as astute as ever. "I have a place there," that explains it. Where she rested her head. She did not seem the type to bury herself in some field each dawn. Did they know what she was? Of course not. She would likely have to move on after bringing a newborn into the city, the first few nights were always the most dangerous. "From there, we will go to London," she studied his face. He looked mature for his age, but he tasted young. "The city is so big, we will be lost in the brouhaha of a mad population." That was the limit of their kind, the fact that they could not stay for long. That eventually they had to run, get themselves lost in the crowd before the mobs could form.

We can set up a thread in either place when you are ready. Cliche hunting as vampires in the streets at night.

Howard stood close to the woman of his creation, like a pup would to its mother. His bright red eyes scattered and bounced around their sockets as they took in his new world. His nose wrinkled and twitched as he sniffed the air, a bombardment of scents passing through his airway. It wasn’t the fact that he was smelling anything new, it was how he smelled them. Within a single inhale he could take them all in, then separate and identify them. His ears did much of the same. What would have been the dull noise of night now seemed loud as every movement of the trees or snap of a twig caught his attention. The senses were raw now, but with time they would sharpen dramatically.

The woman turned her attention to the forest. “The beasts of the forbidden wood, vile in taste...” Howard’s nose lifted into the air as he gave a quick sniff in the forests direction, a small whimper escaping his lips as the hunger gnawed away at him. In his current state he could care less what he feed on, he was starving! “Can assuage the pain until we reach Hogsmeade. Where sweet rivers do run.” She went on to explain her plan for him, Howard simply nodded in agreement. 

“Okay...thank you...” He spoke in a whisper, then paused as he realized he didn’t know what to call her. However, before he could ask a hiss and a growl of pain would burst from his throat. “Kssss! Gah!” A rustle in the leaves caught his ear. He instinctively crouched into an attack position as a squirrel scurried by. His hands reached for his mouth as pain tore through his gums, fangs piercing the flesh as they plunged from their recesses. It would only cause him pause for just a moment, the next would see him dashing forward towards his prey. To a trained hunter as herself, the scene would most likely be comical as the new creature scrambled to the ground, pawing after his target like a kitten to a ball of string. The squirrel was no match for him as he scooped it up, biting hard into its midsection, with a squeak it would perish. His untrained teeth clamped down too hard, bones crunching under the pressure. With a twist of his neck a portion of flesh would be ripped from the carcass, he spat it to the side. Guttural noises of pleasure would escape his throat as he drank from his bounty, but the filling sensation would soon be replaced by a slight disgust. The blood was bitter and burned his throat. It soothed the hunger slightly but made his stomach turn. After a few gulps he would toss it aside. Howard looked up to his creator, his lips parting in a grin to reveal bloodied teeth. “Gross...”

Howard had the senses of a predator. The dew on the grass and how it clung to the beasts that roamed the grounds, taking on the scent of a wet dog. The roosting birds high in the trees, the air heavy with the scent of pine and bird shit. The blades of grass would rub together, the sound like smooth cloth rubbing together. Did he even know what that sounded like? How did he know what that sounded like? These strange wild senses, the sound of a twig breaking signaling him that there was a beast in the nearby wood. The rustle of leaves, the scrape of fur against the rough bark of a tree. The primal knowledge that accompanied these sounds, these scents that prey was near. The heart would bound beneath the bone of her breast, this surge of adrenaline as a part of her screamed to partake in the hunt. 

She was better than a mongrel dog and so was he.

She told him that there was pabulum in the darkened wood, enough to temporarily quell his anguish. That they would be destined for Hogsmede, the closest magical settlement to Hogwarts. It was less than ideal, a sort of shit where you eat sort of situation. She was well known out there, including what she was. Once a few drained citizens were discovered, she would be blamed and there would probably be at least one if not several hunters on her ass. Still, she could not make an omelette without cracking a few eggs. 

Howard let instinct take over as he defeated a mighty squirrel. The tiny creature would not have much to give the ravenous youth but a slice of bread was a veritable feast to a starving man. He caught it, somehow. Was this how bairns always looked? She cringed as he artlessly ripped into the squirrel, the first of many meals. "Good," she commended him, much like a mother would a child of their crude family drawing that would be on glorious display on the refrigerator for the next week. 

He took pride in his accomplishment. as he should. 

“Gross...”

He also was not wrong, a low guffaw escaped her lips. "Beasts, like the vegetables of our diet, except they have no benefit beyond satiety," she admitted as she nodded towards the woods. She extended her arm, intent on wrapping her fingers around his wrist. If he pulled away she would not fight him and tell him to try to keep up. They had miles of woods to traverse before dawn and hours to accomplish this. They had plenty of time but they could not dally any longer. "We will find you something worthy of a hunt."  

Follow-up