The ever handsome bard returned the following week. Right on schedule.
Lyric always silently looked forward to his arrival, eager to hear his song again from across the room like a lazy admirer. He never could quite place what exactly the bard was, not familiar with things beyond his reading and writings. Which was a lot, no doubt, but he hadn't read much about obvious physical traits people just kind of assume everyone knows about. He looked human, but with pointed ears, like a high elf, but... Not quite. An oddity, for sure, but he dare not ask. If people didn't want to speak to him, he would not speak to them first without good reason. It was all just a normal part of laying low, even in a safe place like this.
But, today there was not really any fine ladies in sight. They had been growing a little sparse, coming less and less frequently over the last few weeks. Lyric assumed it had to do with increased banditry, or even worse weather. In any case, it was quiet in the tavern today. Just Annie, himself, and this nameless bard he so admired. As a result, it made it easy for him focus on his work, making copies of pages for a book he had made his own project, ignoring the hunger in his stomach. Though, admittedly, that was getting worse. His pen strokes, immaculate, were moving slower. He was feeling legitimately tired more often, needing to actually lay down and pseudo-sleep during the night like a regular person.
But, it was in this quiet contemplation where he noticed Annie go and mutter something to the bard. Lyric took notice from the corner of his vision, curious, but not wanting to pry. Hopefully she was asking him to sing regardless, he hoped.
Oh, if only it were only that.
Instead, the bard picked up his lyre, and strode him way across the room. To... Lyric's desk. Lyric, immediately, looked up at him with wide eyes. Looking like a deer caught in the light of a sudden flame, the bard had came right up to where he did his work and, boldly, took a seat right on his desk. Lyric felt his unbeating heart in his throat; He'd never seen this man this close before, and it stirred the beast in him. Holy shit he was a specimen. A real tall drink of blood, to be sure. When he realized they had locked eyes, the bard showed nothing but calm confidence, not a hint of apprehension. Charismatic bastard. Of course the bard would be a master at this.
Lyric, feeling like he was going to pass out briefly from the sudden rush, flapped his jaw to speak but... Nothing came out. Instead, the opening strum of the lyre, louder than ever, instantly reached his ears.
He could have melted.
A young man walked through the forest,
With his quiver and hunting bow~
He heard a young girl singing...
And followed the sound below~
Goodness, this was it. Literal music to his ears, and Lyric got a front row seat for it. Indeed, it was for him. He never would have dared asked for this, but as his voice reached the young vampire, all he could do was fall head over heels again. Utterly spellbound, Lyric lost all composure, and stared longingly at the man on his desk, watching him strum and feeling the vibrations of the singing. The song was as beautiful to him as it ever was, but getting to have it performed directly to him? As a private performance? Lovely. Now he knew exactly how all those women felt.
It went on, serene note by serene note. A feeling like weightlessness came over Lyric, truly enraptured by it all, shameless in his admiration. He loved music so much, and this felt unparalleled. Each chorus and verse drew him in until it felt like there was nothing else in this world apart from himself... And the bard. Romantic, even, though honestly those kinds of feelings to him were indistinguishable from the desire to feed on someone. And boy, did he want a bite out of him. As the world around him melted away, the 'personalized' verse arrived...
His love had hair of ebon,
Her eyes an beautiful sheen...
She kept herself so silent~
So young and so serene~
Lyric's legs moved without him needing to ask first. He never actually imagined himself being in this position, but hell, this bard could take him anywhere he wanted at this point if he kept those vocals going. Truly, the rest of the world was dead to him. He didn't even see where he was walking once the bard came down from the desk, leading him away. Lyric, a mouse to this piper. As the lyrics of the song gave way to beautiful notes, Lyric himself lost all track of time and self amid the miasma. The only hint he had that they had reached outside was the sudden change in temperature.
He stood there under the willow,
And he gave her the yellow bloom...
'Girl my heart you've captured,
Oh I would be your groom'~
In the march and within his lost mind, for the briefest moments reality came rushing back to him, tripping slightly on a root. Wait, a root? Lyric, for the first time in who knows how long, blinked. He saw it; They were outside. Among trees. How did they get here? How long as they been walking? The sky was dark, thank goodness, he hadn't even put his hood up in all this cold snow. Still, there was no alarm from him. His legs kept going. Perhaps, this was simply the way to the bard's home?
She said she'd wed him ne-ever,
Not near, nor far, nor soon~ Oohoh~
See me now...
A ray of light in the moondance~
Wait a moment; Did that line come from somewhere else? Briefly, Lyric thought he heard that singing coming from somewhere other than the bard himself. Somewhere among the trees.
See me now...
I cannot leave this place~
Hear me,
Hear me,
A strain of song in the forest...
Yes... That definitely was coming from around them. Becoming more aware by the moment, the spell shaking loose, the world around him was quickly becoming more clear. The strangeness of this all, becoming more obvious to him as they walked.
Don't
Ask
Me...
To follow where you lead~
These disparate voices, they were coming from the trees. Lyric finally came to a stop, the bard in tandem, and as his senses returned quickly to him, he could see clearly his surroundings. And, hear the echoes.
See me now...
See me~
A ray of light in the forest...
There was no home here. No shelter from the cold. Just... Wilderness. An untamed snowy clearing, isolated for the wider world. The piper had lead his mouse into this remote place, away from all prying eyes. And the singing... The singing-! Lyric had never noticed them before. There was so much snow here, it blanketed absolutely everything, the trees included. But the movement of mouths... Visages all around them. Singing, independant of the bard's now quiet lyre. And... The sight of them...
A young man
walked
through the forest~
Women, pinned against the trees. Frozen, long dead, many partially covered by the snow. All, in their own turn contributing to the chorus to make a beautiful, haunting symphony. Horrible, rotting, kept preserved by the freezing weather. Frozen, empty eyes, still... Singing their terrible parts like puppets on unseen strings. Had Lyric had a beating heart, this might of stopped it. The whimsy was gone. There were so many...
With an axe
sharp as
a knife~
And he himself, between a barren tree... And the quiet bard.
I'll take the ebon eyed fairy,
And she shall be my wife...
With her I'll raise my children~
This was horror. Horror the likes Lyric had never seen. The bard, who's voice had been silent in these woods, produced a long sharp sword from somewhere on his person as Lyric froze in abject terror. The sword... These women-!
With her, I'll live my life~
Lyric, lungs frozen, found himself paralyzed before it all. This was such a horrible
scene, how could he- no, ANYONE be prepared for it? His mind set to stalling trying to process it all. He remained in utter disbelief right up to the moment the bard thrusted heartlessly forward, and completely ran him through. The sound of the blade hitting the tree behind Lyric was such a biting sound for all it meant, pinning him to it, creating a horrible effigy as the sudden burning and intense pain rang through him like lightning. Lyric's eyes turned red, the shock of pain a revelation of his senses, mouth open in a mock gasp, but... The blade took even that away from him. With cold steel in his chest, the bard muted Lyric of his last breath. And, instead of words or howling, only blood came up. A blow that would surely kill any mortal...
The maiden wept when she heard him~
When he said he'd set her free...
A part of the song Lyric had never heard. That no one but these many dead had heard, likely, from the scene around him. Lyric, panicking, shocked, instinctively tried to grab the blade that was buried into his torso, the icy metal matching his own cold grasp, as blood soaked his clothes behind him and ran down the cracks of the bark of the tree behind him. His own.
He took his axe and used it~
To bring down her ancient tree~
But the bard, showing such callous and unfeeling, pushed the blade it deeper. Lyric was unable to scream, though he so badly tried. The murderer kept hold of the blade's handle with one hand, stepping past it, getting intimately close as he stared into Lyric's shocked and horrified face. Close enough to kiss him, to feel his warm breath on his cold cheek. His fangs, they didn't matter. HE didn't matter. Not to the bard. As Lyric struggled and spasmed, looking up into this murderer's face, he could see something horrible behind the bard's eyes: The pleasure. The killing intent. The look of promise and knowing; Knowing Lyric was doomed. He, too, joined into the chorus again...
Now your willow's fallen...
Now you
Belong
To me...
The others, pinned against their trees, harmonized beautifully with him. Their death lullaby, to serenade off another soul. To welcome it into the chorus. His soul forfeit, his future stolen. Another frozen victims to pin up with the others. Off an unknown trail, if the middle of a savage land of no-where.
Or, that's how this likely would have ended. No doubt, this was the final moments of so many that found themselves here. Lured in by a talented bard's rapturous song, and pinned up on a tree. This terrible frozen hell was the unwitting death ground to this monster. Lyric, well, would have joined one of many...
But, he had already died long ago.
Pained, desperate sounds barely irked from his throat as his eyes remained their deep crimson, his pupils flickering into slits while in his death throws. The sword, it wouldn't budge, not with the bard holding it. This felt so... Helpless. He was no fighter... He knew, now, he should be traveling with others more capable. He knew, he had grown too complacent here. His guard had faltered from the comfort. How could he have gone with this man? He never would have done anything like this before. He knew this couldn't of lasted. He knew... Nothing stays forever.
This wound, it would not be sufficient to kill a vampire. As much as he hated what he was, as much as he ran away from it... It would be the one factor that would put and end to this terrible thing. Lyric reached out, hands shaking, as if reaching for some last moment's affection or final plea from this murderer before death finally took him. The bard, so close already, so sure, didn't bother to move. Let the dying fool embrace him in his last moments, as they all did.
Until Lyric's fangs sunk into his neck.
The bard, no doubt having done this so many time already, probably was sure it was over. This all was so elegant, after all. To sing for them as they died... To claim them, the way the willow fairy had been. The fairy had no choice. Nor would any of them. So, the fact that this stab was not fatal, and that, in fact, this had been a vampire simply was never a thing that he could have ever predicted in this highly practiced performance of his. The bard, showing some kind of shock for the first time, briefly seemed to realize too late he was bitten... Before his eyes glazed over and his face turned to blush. The euphoria and relaxing effect sapped all strength from him so quickly, by the time he knew he should move, it was too late. Lyric desperately wrapped his arms around the man, wincing from the effort as he he kept his fangs buried deep as they could go... Clinging from desperation, and survival. He had never done something like this, biting someone in self defense, but then again... He'd never allowed himself to be in a position like this before either.
As much as his death grip was desperate, it was unnecessary. The rapidly weakening bard began to slump, and very quickly, couldn't stand on his own, falling back enough to pull the blade out from the tree with their combined body weight. Lyric's eyes were shut so tight, he could focus on nothing but holding on, even as they both fell to the ground. Sword still within him, he drank... And he drank deep.
Oh, sweet nectar. Ah, such succor. There really was nothing like it. If this had been under any other circumstance, this would have felt like an act of love to Lyric, such were the feelings this summoned. But, this was no such act this time. He was scared; Panicking. This man tried to murder him. He couldn't just... Take what he needed. He would just get back up and do this again. No, he had to keep drinking... A wonderful, horrible thought. But, he did. He kept drinking. Far, far more than he ever had before.
Lyric never killed anyone before. He refused that part of himself that said to drink them up completely. There was no need, and it felt so savage. He hated that he had to do this for sustenance. But, for this? In self defense? This murderer? He could, no, MUST do this till it's bitter end.
By the time Lyric could get no more out of him, he had done the longest drink he ever had. He had no idea people had so much blood to give. And, he was indeed delicious. Amazing. Like honey. It made him sick to enjoy it as much as he did. With the bard bled dry, Lyric finally pulled himself up from the man, quaking, feeling on the verge of tears. He killed somebody... Killed them like a beast would. The monster within him, the part that loved it, felt estatic... Stronger than ever. Oh, this could hold his hunger for so so long. But, for all Lyric worked to accomplish... This was the end of it all.
Through pained and whining groans he withdrew the sword, all the fresh warm blood he just drank into himself briefly spilling out as he squeaked in pain. The hole in his chest made him sound congested, unable to properly whine or howl from the sensation of pulling a two-foot blade from himself. But, it clotted quickly. All this fresh, new, high quality blood would do it's work on the damage very swift without his input. He tossed it aside, sending it buried into the soft snow, and brought his hands up to look at them.
They were covered in blood. Everything was. And past his hands, beneath him, the results of his actions.
The bard looked... Shrunken. Drained. Horrible. The whole scene brought horrible memories of his beginning. That terrible, terrible place where he woke up a vampire with much the same looking corpses at his feet. Scared, confused, with a drained corpse beneath him. He wanted to scream. But, he couldn't even manage that as he quaked upon the corpse... Praying, pleading, among a forest of corpses into the ether. Praying to the sky, the snow, the others around him... For despite the fact that he was still here and breathing, deep down, he knew he was just as dead as any of the corpses that surrounded him now.
Damnit all.
