Post by Jamie Rosenthal on Apr 25, 2013 1:21:08 GMT -5
Through the last couple of weeks, owls had been delivering letters back and forth, carrying correspondence between the healer and the auror. He was unwilling to wait so long to see Aleksandr, yet the letters spoke of no such urgencies. He was told that his blood donor, the one that he had seen Aleksandr with the last time, was going to be there during the day, so he did his best to stay busy in the castle. Admittedly, he was almost glad when a flying lesson of Antia's went a little haywire and three of the students wound up inside the hospital wing. It took him a little longer than expected to clean up the mess and get all of the students back to their respective houses.
Finally, Jamie saw a break in the flow of people into the hospital wing and gathered up his fur lined cape, not even bothering to take off the white healer's robes, or free his hair from the long, tight braid that trailed down his back before pulling the cape on and wandering from the castle. The moon made him glow so invitingly as he moved down the path that carried him to the village, where he was due to meet Aleksandr at any moment. He hoped the day with his donor had gone well and that he was fed and happy, as he always did. If he was not, then he would offer himself to the vampire.
Why?
Because, there was no being on this earth that Jamie considered to be beyond recieving compassion. The look upon the vampire's face when he had so willingly offered his life force to him so that he may be safe from harm had been the single most beautiful thing he thought he had ever seen. The shock and awe, the realization that he had so willingly offered himself up to a preditor without the slightest care in the world, aside from how Aleksandr was going recieve the sustinance he so desperately needed.
It was never about becoming immortal. It was never about his fascination with the vampiric culture. It was about Aleksandr. Not Aleksandr the vampire, but Aleksandr, his friend, the quoter of Shakespeare, the lover of music, the blonde man with the smile that lit up the whole of Britian. He deserved the kindness more than anyone else that he knew.
As he entered the village, he stopped to cut a rose from the bush that grew next to the sweet shop and preened off the thorns with a careful hand. The yellow bloom had a carmine outline and was a beautiful thing to behold growing there among the green. He had remembered vaguely what his mother had said about these signifying friendship, the the red tips signified falling in love. That seemed a strong statement to make, but...perhaps that was the feeling that he had been having such trouble placing lately. He cared so much about him that there was no woner that his heart skiped beats around him like it did.
He moved through the street, looking for some evidence of the vampire, feeling almost anxious to see him again.
Finally, Jamie saw a break in the flow of people into the hospital wing and gathered up his fur lined cape, not even bothering to take off the white healer's robes, or free his hair from the long, tight braid that trailed down his back before pulling the cape on and wandering from the castle. The moon made him glow so invitingly as he moved down the path that carried him to the village, where he was due to meet Aleksandr at any moment. He hoped the day with his donor had gone well and that he was fed and happy, as he always did. If he was not, then he would offer himself to the vampire.
Why?
Because, there was no being on this earth that Jamie considered to be beyond recieving compassion. The look upon the vampire's face when he had so willingly offered his life force to him so that he may be safe from harm had been the single most beautiful thing he thought he had ever seen. The shock and awe, the realization that he had so willingly offered himself up to a preditor without the slightest care in the world, aside from how Aleksandr was going recieve the sustinance he so desperately needed.
It was never about becoming immortal. It was never about his fascination with the vampiric culture. It was about Aleksandr. Not Aleksandr the vampire, but Aleksandr, his friend, the quoter of Shakespeare, the lover of music, the blonde man with the smile that lit up the whole of Britian. He deserved the kindness more than anyone else that he knew.
As he entered the village, he stopped to cut a rose from the bush that grew next to the sweet shop and preened off the thorns with a careful hand. The yellow bloom had a carmine outline and was a beautiful thing to behold growing there among the green. He had remembered vaguely what his mother had said about these signifying friendship, the the red tips signified falling in love. That seemed a strong statement to make, but...perhaps that was the feeling that he had been having such trouble placing lately. He cared so much about him that there was no woner that his heart skiped beats around him like it did.
He moved through the street, looking for some evidence of the vampire, feeling almost anxious to see him again.