Alira was in her private chambers in the lowest level of her home. Flickering light from the paper lanterns that lined the back of the stone bathing pool illuminated her naked form as she knelt in front of a half barrel. Her pale slender arms followed the curve of the barrel edge with her delicate hands clenching the far side. Her defenseless body tensed again almost twisting as her stomach again lurched. Her muscles as she leaned forward, her toes curling in involuntary spasm. Another delivery of wine mixed with blood from her earlier meal, disgorged into the tub. Her throat let out a wet, guttural feral growl; her nails dug into the wood as another convulsion consumed her fragile looking form. Gradually, the latest round of sickness paused in its assault on her insides. Alira slowly relaxed, sitting on her heels as her pale face came to rest against the side of the tub's edge. Her pale blue eyes were hidden, tucked behind eyelids that seemed to flinch with each tremor that danced over her broken form.
The half barrel seems to support her form as she rested in preparation for the next onslaught. Her pale body was without motion, no breath or pulse shattered the statuesque perfection of her crumpled body. The dim light reflected off the thick, silver scars that ran from between her shoulders to the small of her back. Five lines as if she had been raked by a large claw. Another claw mark started on her left shoulder and divided the remnants of its gruesome injury between her left arm and the side of her torso. They were a constant, painful reminder to the elder vampire of what it means to stand your ground against a powerful enemy. She had won the fight and kept her position as Prince, but it nearly cost her the ultimate price.
Her body started to tense again as a final, violent upheaval purged her insides of the last of the wicked wine. She spat into the tub and then toppled over on her side. The cold stone floor felt good, it provided a mental anchor as she curled up in a fetal position. Her insides still felt as if they were on fire as if the wine had burned through her stomach. Occasional dry heaves wracked her naked body as she curled tighter with a low growl in misery.
After time has passed and the heaves lessened in frequency, Alira slowly uncurled. She attempted to crawl towards the deep stone tub. She only succeeded in dragging her weakened body with her arms and feeble movements of her legs. She pulled her body up the stairs and over the stone edge. Gravity lent her its assistance as her body toppled over the edge, plunging into the hot water, She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach and tucked her knees up with her chin tucked as she sank to the bottom.
An' there she slept until sunset.
Pale skin illuminated like alabaster.
An ivory statue of regret at the bottom of the water.
The half barrel seems to support her form as she rested in preparation for the next onslaught. Her pale body was without motion, no breath or pulse shattered the statuesque perfection of her crumpled body. The dim light reflected off the thick, silver scars that ran from between her shoulders to the small of her back. Five lines as if she had been raked by a large claw. Another claw mark started on her left shoulder and divided the remnants of its gruesome injury between her left arm and the side of her torso. They were a constant, painful reminder to the elder vampire of what it means to stand your ground against a powerful enemy. She had won the fight and kept her position as Prince, but it nearly cost her the ultimate price.
Her body started to tense again as a final, violent upheaval purged her insides of the last of the wicked wine. She spat into the tub and then toppled over on her side. The cold stone floor felt good, it provided a mental anchor as she curled up in a fetal position. Her insides still felt as if they were on fire as if the wine had burned through her stomach. Occasional dry heaves wracked her naked body as she curled tighter with a low growl in misery.
After time has passed and the heaves lessened in frequency, Alira slowly uncurled. She attempted to crawl towards the deep stone tub. She only succeeded in dragging her weakened body with her arms and feeble movements of her legs. She pulled her body up the stairs and over the stone edge. Gravity lent her its assistance as her body toppled over the edge, plunging into the hot water, She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach and tucked her knees up with her chin tucked as she sank to the bottom.
An' there she slept until sunset.
Pale skin illuminated like alabaster.
An ivory statue of regret at the bottom of the water.
