A New Red Lady of the Night

[BeautifulSorcery]

                A warm and balmy summer’s night in Amn, screams filled the elaborate manor house as a brand new baby with porcelain skin was born into the world. A small patch of deep red wisps of hair grew on the top of her head and sparkling emerald green eyes matching her mother’s perfectly took in the world for their very first time. Only one thought permeated her loving parent’s thoughts. This baby is the most beautiful child born in centuries and she is destined for great things…baby Olivia…



   From early on she showed a great interest in performance; always twirling around in her silk dresses, the waves of red flowing around her face, dancing for her father, her friends, and even some strangers on the streets of her town just to show off. Even as a young girl she was a true social butterfly. Her father was willing to give her anything she wanted just to keep the smile on her face. The entire manor house came to life when Olivia was born and each person that helped to make the manor run knew it very well. The whole world centered on this one beautiful child.
   Gorgeous instruments of dark wood, shining metals, the finest components that could be found, filled her room and her dedication to the music she created astounded her parents. Hours would go by with the sweet flows of music encircling everyone in the manor the young girl had found her true love already. The girl was so young, only just fifteen, how lucky she was to have such a passion in her life.  The time would come soon for her to be introduced to society and the man she was destined to spend the rest of her life with. The only thing left was to travel to Suzail in Cormyr to do it.



   Upon the eve of her sixteenth birthday Olivia couldn’t even sleep. She was so excited for her trip to a new country to meet her future husband. Her father assured her over and over that he was a good man and Olivia’s mother made sure to enumerate just how handsome he was. She chose her dresses carefully for their modesty. She was never one to flaunt herself for her body or her looks; she only seemed interested in showing off her heart and her passion for music.
Beauty was easy to come by when Olivia was around. The morning of her departure the sun shone brightly on the gardens in front of the manor. She breathed in the sweet scent of blooming flowers and felt a light breeze dance across the skin of her face; this was going to be a magnificent trip. As she climbed into the carriage she stopped a moment to take one last look at the home she had loved so much. Her life was about to change for the better, she just knew it. Pulling up the embroidered silk skirt of her powder blue dress she climbed into the carriage ready to start her new life.



                Shortly after arriving in Cormyr’s finest city the whirlwind of royal balls and private dinner parties swept Olivia and her father up. She could not imagine a better time. Playing the pianoforte for high nobles, and even dancing in performance for the queen herself, Olivia certainly made her mark on the city. Though one thing was missing, the man she was meant to marry. It was months before she was allowed to even know his name. Elliot Tracer. So many spoke highly of him she could barely contain herself. He shared her love for music and her passion for dance. Almost as beautiful as she was and just as modest about it. Smart and kind hearted, it seemed Olivia was a lucky woman to be promised to a man like that. If only she could just meet him.
                Months passed and so many men begged for her hand but she never acquiesced. She was waiting for her true love. Sure she still enjoyed the balls and parties, but she wanted so much more from her life and without Elliot she was stuck. Her only solace and emotional outlet was her music. The songs were growing darker by the day and her father knew something needed to be done so he went out himself to find the man Elliot. It was only days before he found out where the man was holed up in his home, terrified of being inadequate in the eyes of Olivia. He was so paralyzed with fear he couldn’t bring himself to meet her after all the wonderful things he had heard.
                Olivia’s father had to do something; he could not bear to see his daughter suffering so much. He tried everything he could to convince the man to do his duty to the woman he was promised to. He begged the man to come listen to her music to see what he was doing to her. Elliot still could not come. Every day Olivia’s father went to see Elliot, begging him to know his daughter Olivia. He would tell the man how beautiful she was, he would tell Elliot about her talent with her instruments and even her dancing, nothing would make the man move. Desperate, Olivia’s father did the only thing he could think of; he brought Olivia to see Elliot instead.
                Stepping through the door…wondering what it was her father had in store her eyes met Elliot’s and in an instant the fire returned to her. Her father was shocked at the force that arose between these two people his breathing stopped for long moments before Olivia and Elliot fell into each others arms. It seemed that they would never again be without true love even in that instant they were bound together forever.

(to be continued...)

[BeautifulSorcery]

     Months later the marriage date was set, her time was coming. The young woman wanted to please her future husband with a gift. She searched and searched for something that could express her love for him, her utter devotion. She finally decided upon a painting. She would give him her portrait as a gift because he enjoyed her beauty so much. It was not difficult for her to find an artist willing to immortalize her in art. Maurice Benner was to become her artist. Days went by when she would sneak off to meet him. They grew to be good friends spending so much time together and it was not long before he discovered that he had fallen in love with his innocent subject.
     “Olivia it has been so long since we’ve met…do you trust me?” he said, wetting his lips with his tongue.
     “Of course I trust you Maurice you have never given me a reason not to.” A smile graced her face as she looked upon her friend.
     “That’s good. I want to try something new with you and it can only work if you trust me entirely” the corners of his mouth curled upward as he saw he eyes. Filled with trust for her friend, “I am going to enjoy it greatly. You will as well I think.”
     Olivia’s eyes watched him as he moved across the room toward her with a look she had never noticed in his eyes before he looked almost…hungry. In a flash his hand had her arm held tightly. No matter how hard she pulled she could not break his grip. His breath was hot on her neck as he lean in close to her whispering in Olivia’s ear.
     “I want you for my own Olivia…I –will- have you.” In an instant his mouth was on hers, his hands took in her body quickly, every inch of her was in his control no matter how hard she struggled against him. “Lie down on the couch,” his voice nearly hissed “I want memories of this moment.” Coarse ropes bound her arms and legs, holding her tight, and her dress was heaped on the floor far in the corner. His brush danced across the canvas lightning fast, eyes never leaving her body.
     What seemed like days later the ropes binding her wrists and ankles were loosened. The tears had long since dried on her face, and though he had never really taken her, she felt as violated and scandalized as if he had. She gathered her things to her, feeling the need to armor herself against the world. Walking through the streets she was in a daze, how could someone take advantage of her like this? How could this world that had once seemed so beautiful suddenly have become so dark? She fell into her bed, the fire once again dwindling from her eyes. What would she do if Elliot ever found out? She could never bear to face him again if he did.

[BeautifulSorcery]

//just a bump for safety, more will come soon when i get a few free minutes

[BeautifulSorcery]

*a flourishing scrawl dances over the unbound papers Olivia has stacked together, the pages are nearly black with ink scribbling out words and notes. Scratches, seemingly from fingernails, and tears marr the flat pristine surface of the sheets, the papers have obviously not been treated well*

So I begin again with this. Here I am, no longer who I was, but still cast into the same fate. I am "evil" now. Apparently I am at least. If you ask any living person they will say so. Perhaps they only say so because it is through them that I remain alive. Because they don't want to feel like food. I remember being powerless. I can understand why they hate me. I hate me now as well. No, I can't really say that. And why should I lie to the only one who will ever read this. Me. It's just so hard not to lie. That's all I have. The Lie.
Shall I be droll and remind myself how this started? Not really a purpose in that but if I am to live for centuries maybe I will want to remember some day. With my memory I can hardly remember who I ate last...I would have laughed at writing that when I was alive. Now it is simply a truth that I have to live with. I was bitten. You may think it silly to remind myself of that considering what I have become, but I have met so many who did not suffer my same fate so it seems pertinent to tell. I was taken into the woods by a wolf. Led I should say, taken implies that I did not follow willingly. I was looking for this to happen. Grasping at wisps of smoke that my mortal mind thought would actually make some sort of difference. It did make a difference I suppose. I was just foolish enough to think that the difference made was the one I had chosen. I was wrong. I died from the stopping of my heart. I could feel every moment of my death even after I had gone cold and rigid. I felt the movements as I was swung up into my coffin. I heard every word spoken at my funeral.
Being dead is not the same as being what I am now. Being dead was...peaceful. You would think that an artist with the talents I had in life could come up with a better word. To those of you who are mortal that word truly is meaningless. In this, the semblance of life that I have now, there is no such feeling. Now the most restful state I have is still. Not the stillness that mortals feel. Utter unmoving. No breath. No heartbeat. No signs of life betraying me. To be truly still. No human or elf or dwarf will ever understand that either. For the sake of continuity I will return to my start. A woman spoke to me in those woods. I did not understand a word she said, but I remember begging her, yearning for her to take away from me what most mindful mortals beg to keep. Even then some part of me knew I was getting into more than I expected, but my mind blocked that sense from me. I should say, I do not entirely regret what I have become. My life was loss. In that way, at least, I was prepared for what was to come.
The first days I had were something I will likely never remember. There was blood. Fear. Lusts even I had never felt before. Anyone who knew me in life would probably smirk at reading that. The humorous thought that someone like Olivia Greycastle could feel a "new" lust. How absurd. Though I suppose writing this and referring to others reading it is even further toward the absurd. I won't let anyone know about this. I do not take other people into my confidence any longer. Betrayal is something that does not change in undeath. Promises made are easily broken and only for the sake of remembering in my later years do I even mention this man. His name is not important as I hope mine is no longer important either. It is the only way to be safe. I will say, though, that it is through him that I was truly able to lose that which I had considered my "self". Self is a weakness to those that are my kin. Self will get you killed. Self makes you predictable and leaves a trail that others will always follow.
Once again I have left the logical path of the story. My first taking of blood was from this man I mentioned earlier.
I felt the rush of my new life through him and the pain of my damnation through the rest of my body as the gods seared their anger into my flesh. The taking of blood is something I will never attempt to describe here in my notes. No possible words can convey the experience. There is a reason my kin do not simply succumb to despair and walk into the sunlight.
I learned about my new body from a human. Nothing of my powers, but how my body would react to things. Feelings I was having in my still human heart. It is a shame to me now to consider this fact but to myself I will be honest once again. There are emotions that I still have not fully shed from my existence. Anger remains. Fear. Lust, though for things far different than any mortal lusts for. Hunger, that is something I am never without. Jealousy. Shame. The things that bring forth these emotions have changed even since my turning. Each night brings something I discover and despise about my new body. I have shed everything a mortal would consider a "good" emotion. My thoughts on this have changed though. Anger is a respite from empty. Fear ensures my own survival. Lust and jealousy seem to go hand in hand to me. I will have what I want. There is no question. Even a human can know what I mean when I say hunger. The thing I am most surprised that has not left is shame. I feel shame for being taught kin secrets by a human. I feel shame for my failures not because I will have to answer for them...simply because I should not be making mistakes. I feel shame in the fact that I can no longer create. An eternity of art, of creation. An eternity that I can not grasp. To my own ears my songs have grown stale. I hear noise. The piano bends perfectly to my infallible fingers yet I still do not evoke emotion from the melody I create. I am left dry. My kin have found my song even sweeter since my turning. I suppose this is a good point to mention the others that I have met that are like me. I will seemingly always remember the flat sound I create on instruments or with my own voice.
It was a surprisingly short time before one of my kin revealed herself to me. I made a promise to myself at that moment that I would never interfere with the plots or desires of another like me. It is far too dangerous. I would, however, learn and absorb. It is in every world that knowledge is power. I have always been wise enough to keep my ears open and most of the time my mouth shut when it came to things such as this. I will not tell her name or describe her in any way for I owe her that much at least. I will say though that she took me in a firm hand to teach me how to survive in the world I had chosen. She taught me to become formless. I would say mist, most others say that, but within Barovia and the Core Mist is something much different. So I will say I learned to lose my body. It is when my kind is the most safe this way. We are silent, invisible, and yet we still retain our consciousness. The woman who taught me to be formless also taught me that relying solely on the new abilities that my body held would end with me being a pile of ash. I learned to defend myself with more than an angry scratch to the face. My fangs become a secondary weapon. In those early times I wondered often why my teacher and I could not become companions in our endless lives. I realize now that she pulled away from me for her own safety as I have now from the consorts I had gained. I believe there was more but such things do not require being written. After the woman came a man. He was different from most that I have met. He tried to cling to his humanity. Even urging me to forsake some of my natural powers to retain my own humanity. He warned me to leave my victims minds to them, the power you gain over another person can only corrupt from within. I did not listen. In life I could take a man's mind with one gaze it was no large step to amplify that power into true servitude. I bears mentioning that my betrayer was by my side throughout this whole time. Less I forget this shame it also should be said that I claimed to love him as well. While I have been writing my hand has grown still and cold. The daylight hours are waning so I should dress for the night and my next meal.
A Bientot.