?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 
 
07 November 2008 @ 03:28 am
"Wine"  
Oh, God. It's three-thirty in the morning. No brain. As demonstrated by the fact that I just tried to spell that "braine."

Uh. brigits_flame. Prompt "wine." Not edited in the slightest, because I didn't want to put eltea through the disgusting travesty of prose below. XD

Apologies first to Vincent, who never did anything to deserve being treated this way, and to richelle2972, who has been wanting me to write about him again since... ever... and definitely ought to have gotten better than this. XD

Please excuse the insanity. I haven't slept much this week. And won't be sleeping much tonight, now...

**EPIC FAIL ADDENDUM -- the climactic line was eltea's idea, and I completely fail at French at two-thirty in the morning. XD Please ignore my idiocy.**

**EFA II -- managed not to copy and paste the first line. I'm actually impressed with how hard I failed on this one...**

Boredom was a wretched thing.

And a damned persistent one.

Vincent slung his feet up on the desk, admired the way the lamplight played on the Italian leather of his boots, and swirled the exquisite Merlot loitering in his glass.

He was going to do something stupid, wasn’t he?

Vincent set his feet back on the floor—arguably where they belonged—and put his weight on them.

Ah, l’ennui,” he remarked absently, pale lips twisting into the thin smile he’d perfected a very many years ago. Comme tu es bel. I do so wish you wouldn’t tempt me.”

The darkness parted for him, streetlamps’ benedictions wavering in the depth of the night. Shadow-lace clouds veiled the moon.

Listening to the crickets go silent as his heels struck up a rapport with the pavement, he mused that perhaps wandering the Earth for two and a half centuries earned one some deference.

Then again, the veneration of crickets wasn’t particularly impressive.

What he needed was larger prey—larger, fatter, warmer. It was all very simple, really; the greater the size of the animal, the greater the volume of its veins. Direct proportionality and all that.

And the wilder the struggle, the richer the wine.

The keening of distant sirens made him wonder a moment, and the quibbling of doves in an olive tree by the roadside sent him running his tongue over his teeth. He liked killing doves. They were wonderfully soft things, first of all; and, perhaps more importantly, the blatant symbolic significance amused him far more than it should have.

Vincent Duval had never claimed that he was not a sadist. That would have been a heinous lie.

He grinned a little wider, and half-muffled moonlight gleamed on his fangs.

Not much was open at this hour, but the clubs were still seething, vermin of both ordinary and supernatural persuasions spilling out into the street, the moon bleaching them indiscriminately to monochrome. Vincent moved through their ranks as if the sidewalk were empty; intoxicated or not, they could smell him—could scent the black ichor that forged its sluggish way through his veins—and moved hastily out of his way. In this part of the town, most of the populace sensed a predator before they ever saw one.

The good predators, of course, were only seen when they wished to be.

A bouncer whose face combined the worst attributes of toad and pit-bull offered him a nod-shrug gesture, which Vincent acknowledged with a fraction of a wave.

Ah, the nuances of body language. Such finesse.

As the pulsing cluster of mediocre dancers fragmented enough to allow him a perfect pathway, Vincent wondered if it was blasphemous to measure himself mentally against Moses. Smirking, he remembered that he needn’t worry, given the whole Eternal Damnation portion of the program.

It would have been blazoned in glorious fine print if there had been a contract, but the hungry vampire who had indulged in the fluids of a certain penniless drunkard (who had been lying unconscious in the gutter at the time, as it was) hadn’t proffered any such document first.

Then again, no one sued restaurants over hot coffee in 1785.

Vincent had been illiterate then anyway.

He sat with his back to the bar, nursing a new glass of wine and an inkling of a headache.

Oh, mon cher ennui. Now look what you’ve done.

He supposed it was better to be bored here than to be bored at home.

A girl who would have been consigned to the stocks for her raiment (or, rather, her lack thereof) in Vincent’s day flounced over and managed not to miss the barstool she sought.

Vincent sniffed disinterestedly. Human. Flooded with adrenaline. Irretrievably wasted.

“I’ve never been here before tonight!” the girl announced.

Was she talking to him? Hell.

Her eyes were bright, her glossy grin was blinding, and flecks of mascara dotted her cheeks to testify to her cosmetic zealotry. “So what are you?” she prompted.

Before Vincent could figure out how to phrase Your worst nightmare to ideal dramatic effect, she was squealing.

“Are you a vampire?” she demanded.

Vincent attempted not to flinch. He very badly wished he was something she didn’t like. Like a manticore. Or a cockroach.

His prayers had no noticeable effect.

Oh, yes. Eternal Damnation. Right.

“Yes,” he managed to reply.

Her eyes went very round, and her face went very solemn. “Do you bite people?” she whispered.

Even without the absurdly sharp hearing the music had lately been abusing, even without two-hundred-and-fifty-odd years of watching people speak, Vincent would have known very well what she had said simply by virtue of her expression.

What was it about feeding that made the concept so difficult to understand? How was it any different from humans slaughtering livestock?

It was fairly likely that there was a detailed ethical debate lurking about the subject, but Vincent preferred not to have PETA breathing down his neck.

Or the FBI.

Or both at once.

Yes, that might prove unpleasant.

“I do,” he confirmed reluctantly.

The girl gazed at him for a long moment, rapt and rapturous. After a long silence, which Vincent spent attempting to determine where he might run that she couldn’t follow, his tormentor gave voice to her question at last.

“Will you turn me into a vampire?” she breathed.

He stared at her.

What were they feeding them these days?

“I would rather rub garlic on a stake and throw myself upon it,” he answered.

It was the truth; vampiredom in general would be better off losing him than gaining her. He’d be damned if—

Well, that was a foregone conclusion.

The girl’s bottom lip protruded as she fixed him with her best pair of puppy eyes.

Little did she know that vampires were quite immune to the tactic; the werewolves had been at it for eons.

“Don’t tell me,” she begged, “that you don’t sparkle, eith—”

Before he could stop himself, Vincent Duval had upended his wineglass over her head.

He made a graceful exit before anyone could process the incident. The streetlamps seemed a bit more disapproving as he started home, and he eyed them mutinously. Who were they to judge? It wasn’t as though anyone expected them to alter the basic tenets of their existence to adjust for popular literature.

Vincent huffed. Now he really was going to kill something.

Next time, he’d just be bored at home. At home, he was the only psychotic freak he had to worry about.



 
 
Feeling: exhaustedexhausted
 
 
 
(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)
Vitamin C: L and Misatierfal on November 7th, 2008 07:34 pm (UTC)
Haha, I went to bed not long after posting. And am somehow surviving so far. XD

<3!
Vitamin C: Matsudatierfal on November 7th, 2008 07:34 pm (UTC)
Hahaha... yes. He was imagined for an RP that went... rather... self-destruct-button, but he romped around and had a very good time. XD Some of his finer moments are here, immortalized for Richelle because she's a Vincent fangirl. XD

I'm glad you like "quibbling," because "sook" is probably my new favorite! 8D

Heeeee. You are fantastic. XD
(Deleted comment)
Vitamin Ctierfal on November 8th, 2008 12:51 am (UTC)
I looked it up on dictionary.com when it was in the most recent Mello/Near and was just like DUDE.

Exactly like that.

God, I need sleep. XD
(Deleted comment)
Vitamin C: Mello - Mihaeltierfal on November 8th, 2008 09:01 am (UTC)
Maybe it's just because I really love the Aussie-isms -- I do; not quite sure why; for some reason I just really like the way they sound in my head ^^ -- but I feel like they fit. Mello in particular. I dunno; maybe I love hearing him use slang from anybody's country. XD
(Deleted comment)
Vitamin C: Mello - Reasonabletierfal on November 8th, 2008 08:48 pm (UTC)
So true! I love them as kind of Kids of the World just as much as Kids of Wammy's, you know? ^^ That makes them seem connected to everybody and to nobody, and that fits somehow...
dreamy_idealist: brigit's flame 1dreamy_idealist on November 7th, 2008 05:31 pm (UTC)
You're truly gifted. I liked this character and idea very much.

Now if I can bring my knowledge for just a second, ;)

Comme tu es bel. It should be spelt belle. However, since Vincent is talking about l'ennui (masculine word), he should say Comme tu es beau. Bel is used instead of beau with a masculine word starting with a vowel sound or an aspirate h, for instance: un bel enfant (a beautiful child) un bel homme (a beautiful man).

I hope you see what I mean. Good luck this week. :)
Vitamin C: L - Bewilderedtierfal on November 7th, 2008 07:26 pm (UTC)
OH, SNAP, you're totally right! Dang. XD That was my two-in-the-morning French talking... I started out with "Le bel ennui" and then totally forgot that there was another word. Epic fail. XD

That aside, thanks very much, and I'm glad you liked it! XD
(Deleted comment)
Vitamin Ctierfal on November 7th, 2008 07:37 pm (UTC)
I definitely epic failed crediting eltea with the bit about sparkles -- drunk-Twilight-fangirl was her idea. And the only reason this thing actually ended up existing, as it were. XD

Yeah, I feel very bad for any prospective actual vampires. XD
richelle2972richelle2972 on November 7th, 2008 10:31 pm (UTC)
It's kinda sad how much I love Vincent... *ahem* Anyway, I loved this! The Twilight fan-girl was so perfect. I actually talked to some of them when they were drunk on Halloween when I was dressed up like a vampire... They kept asking me which character I was dressed up as, what my favorite part of the book was then rambling about how much they love Edward, etc. Seriously, guys, can't a girl just dress up like a generic vampire with no attachments to Twilight. Sorry about the rant... But yes. Vincent is amazing. I loved the lines "The girl’s bottom lip protruded as she fixed him with her best pair of puppy eyes. Little did she know that vampires were quite immune to the tactic; the werewolves had been at it for eons." He, he. Okay I think I'm done now.

Vitamin C: Matsudatierfal on November 8th, 2008 12:48 am (UTC)
I can't believe I put him through that crap. XD I'm such a horrible creator. XD

All credit goes to eltea for the fangirl idea; I just fail at remembering all the shit I need to acknowledge at three-thirty in the morning... and I failed at French, too. XD WOW. XD

I'm so sorry to hear that about your costume. That is the dumbest thing since dumb. XD I mean... REALLY, PEOPLE! D:

Hee. Puppy eyes are a potent weapon... most of the time... >D
wierdauntiewierdauntie on November 10th, 2008 04:11 am (UTC)
Gentle editor
Hello Tierfal!
May I just say, what a fun piece! Sevaral people picked Vampire Writing this go-round; but Vincent's crotchety boredom was the most fun. He is so engaging! I think you should do more with him. Lots more. Involving adventures and possible romance with less-insipid females.

Ok some "gentle feedback"- the font is hard to read at this print size. HELP us old people reading and make it bigger wehn you post.

Also- sometimes it's hard to tell where the observations are coming from- Vincent? the all-seeing-God Point of View? It seems like Vincent is thinking these things,a bout her failed Puppy Eyes technique, etc. Perhaps you could make it more clear who is making the observations "Well, that was a foregone conclusion."

All in all, hella amusing. Best of luck this month!



Also, what
Vitamin Ctierfal on November 10th, 2008 08:36 am (UTC)
Re: Gentle editor
Glad you like Vincent! :D He emerged from a failed RP, and I've promised him his own book someday, probably with my best friend's character, who may or may not end up being a highly-not-insipid love interest indeed! XD

Oh no, I'm sorry about the font size! The color probably doesn't help, either... (Though if there's a 'View' tab at the top of your browser, I think there should be some zoom options, if that helps. ^^)

My third-persons tend to melt into the realm of first-person a bit at the best of times. Excellent point. XD

Thanks very much! ^^
Lauri~leyse on November 15th, 2008 03:05 pm (UTC)
Hiya, I'm an editor for you this week at B_F. My lateness in my reply is inexcusable, so I apologize and hope this is till helpful:

This was a great piece, you've really characterized this guy perfectly. I love how his cockiness comes through in his narrative, and the breaking of his unflappable image at the end makes him even more endearing.

I love the way you've animalized all of the people in the piece. At first I couldn't tell if you were talking about humans or actual animals, so that particular metaphor really lent itself well to Vincent's state of mind.

One thing to watch for is just a hint of purple prose here and there. Boots don't really have a "rapport" with the street, for instance, and there are far more apt metaphors to apply to the sound you're referring to. I also don't think wine loiters. It's interesting to mix unexpected images, but if you push it too far it can be a little campy.
Vitamin C: Blue Rosetierfal on November 15th, 2008 08:11 pm (UTC)
Eh, no worries; I'm not going anywhere. x) I think you guys are amazingly awesome just for putting so much time into the whole thing in the first place! :D

Glad you liked Vincent! :D He's a bit of a loony. XD

Looking back, those images are a bit much... I distinctly remember struggling with the "loiter" one. XD

Thanks very much! ^^