(no subject)
Mar. 14th, 2005 08:26 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
rei-c.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
hpvampAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rei_c
Title: Dhampire
Rating: PG
Characters: ??/??
Warnings: Pretty much a gen fic, nothing to warn about. For once.
Word Count: 650-ish
A/N: I started this off and got about four paragraphs in and had to make a choice: keep it short and simple, or go off into mega-fic world. So, I kept it simple, because I already have a mega-fic in progress and don’t need another one! However, should anyone want to take this and build on it, consider it a plot-bunny free for the taking.
Crucifixes didn’t work, nor did holy water, for the same reasons. Wizards and witches didn’t believe, and without belief, the symbols lacked power. Garlic just stank, knocked vampires unconscious with their heightened sense of smell but didn’t kill them. Stakes worked on some clans, just as sunlight worked on others, as silver worked on still more. Every clan had its own weakness. The trick was being able to identify a childe’s clan at first sight and then being prepared for it.
Before Voldemort, there were only five or six clans of vampires in the British Isles, but the Dark Lord’s offer of fresh food and plenty of violence had enticed more to travel. Vampires from over Europe had formed their own covens, mixing every conceivable kind of vampire there was with others not so imaginable. And though the Dark Lord had been defeated eight years ago, still they lived, fed, killed, and Embraced.
Which is where you come in. Vampire Hunter, that’s the title they’ve given you, but you’re so much more than the typical bounty hunter. You know every vampire in the Isles, know their moves before they realize they have to take them, know their weaknesses and their strengths without fear. And they, of course, know you.
Vampire Hunter. Dhampire. Child of two humans, something gone wrong in the process of Embracing you. You had been drained of blood, had tasted of the Eternal Death—and yet you retained a soul, possessed a heartbeat, were still Light. One night and your world turned upside down. It took you time to get used to the craving, to the power. You have all of their strengths and few of their weaknesses. They have given you a name, the Slayer, because that is all you seem to do.
It is all you show them, your life of hunting. You are as at home in the shadows as they are, as comfortable in the seductive Darkness, and yet, unknown to clan after clan after clan, you have a daytime life, a life led in the Light. It is this life that nurtures you during the day, turning the earth with your hands. It is this life that encourages you at night, turning a different sort of earth under the force of your vampiric strengths. It is this life you return to every sunrise, covered in dust and ash, with your wooden stakes, your silver stakes, your swords, your wand.
Last night you killed five, the night before three. They are beginning to fear your name, not just your presence. When they see you, they murmur. “Dhampire,” they say as the wind carries their scent to you, their curiosity and loathing, their fear and hope. “The Souled One,” they say. “Return to death, Dhampire. We want no more of your kind among us.” And then they die.
Tonight, you will Hunt a Master of the Rakeshia Clan. Tonight you will fight the one they call the Sire of Torment. Tonight he will return to death.
But today, your son will be born and you shall see if he will carry your curse. There have been no signs in the womb of his mother, no signs carried to you by the wind, no signs transmitted when you rest your hand on the curve of your wife’s belly. The same was true of your daughter, before her birth, and she is free of the curse but feels a call to Darkness to rival your own. You will train her when she is older, just as you will train your son should he feel a part of the Darkness and not the Light. They will carry on your work, for it is written in the stars of their destiny, but they will have different names, different titles.
Only you are Dhampire, Dark and Light, Human and Other, Cursed and Souled. Only you are the Hunter.
Despite everything, it is a lonely life.
rei_cTitle: Dhampire
Rating: PG
Characters: ??/??
Warnings: Pretty much a gen fic, nothing to warn about. For once.
Word Count: 650-ish
A/N: I started this off and got about four paragraphs in and had to make a choice: keep it short and simple, or go off into mega-fic world. So, I kept it simple, because I already have a mega-fic in progress and don’t need another one! However, should anyone want to take this and build on it, consider it a plot-bunny free for the taking.
Crucifixes didn’t work, nor did holy water, for the same reasons. Wizards and witches didn’t believe, and without belief, the symbols lacked power. Garlic just stank, knocked vampires unconscious with their heightened sense of smell but didn’t kill them. Stakes worked on some clans, just as sunlight worked on others, as silver worked on still more. Every clan had its own weakness. The trick was being able to identify a childe’s clan at first sight and then being prepared for it.
Before Voldemort, there were only five or six clans of vampires in the British Isles, but the Dark Lord’s offer of fresh food and plenty of violence had enticed more to travel. Vampires from over Europe had formed their own covens, mixing every conceivable kind of vampire there was with others not so imaginable. And though the Dark Lord had been defeated eight years ago, still they lived, fed, killed, and Embraced.
Which is where you come in. Vampire Hunter, that’s the title they’ve given you, but you’re so much more than the typical bounty hunter. You know every vampire in the Isles, know their moves before they realize they have to take them, know their weaknesses and their strengths without fear. And they, of course, know you.
Vampire Hunter. Dhampire. Child of two humans, something gone wrong in the process of Embracing you. You had been drained of blood, had tasted of the Eternal Death—and yet you retained a soul, possessed a heartbeat, were still Light. One night and your world turned upside down. It took you time to get used to the craving, to the power. You have all of their strengths and few of their weaknesses. They have given you a name, the Slayer, because that is all you seem to do.
It is all you show them, your life of hunting. You are as at home in the shadows as they are, as comfortable in the seductive Darkness, and yet, unknown to clan after clan after clan, you have a daytime life, a life led in the Light. It is this life that nurtures you during the day, turning the earth with your hands. It is this life that encourages you at night, turning a different sort of earth under the force of your vampiric strengths. It is this life you return to every sunrise, covered in dust and ash, with your wooden stakes, your silver stakes, your swords, your wand.
Last night you killed five, the night before three. They are beginning to fear your name, not just your presence. When they see you, they murmur. “Dhampire,” they say as the wind carries their scent to you, their curiosity and loathing, their fear and hope. “The Souled One,” they say. “Return to death, Dhampire. We want no more of your kind among us.” And then they die.
Tonight, you will Hunt a Master of the Rakeshia Clan. Tonight you will fight the one they call the Sire of Torment. Tonight he will return to death.
But today, your son will be born and you shall see if he will carry your curse. There have been no signs in the womb of his mother, no signs carried to you by the wind, no signs transmitted when you rest your hand on the curve of your wife’s belly. The same was true of your daughter, before her birth, and she is free of the curse but feels a call to Darkness to rival your own. You will train her when she is older, just as you will train your son should he feel a part of the Darkness and not the Light. They will carry on your work, for it is written in the stars of their destiny, but they will have different names, different titles.
Only you are Dhampire, Dark and Light, Human and Other, Cursed and Souled. Only you are the Hunter.
Despite everything, it is a lonely life.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}