some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice
from what I’ve tasted of desire, I’ll hold with those who favor fire - R. Frost
He remembers how gently the night had crept in. Slow at first, only caressing, and then more demanding. The darkness tugged at his skin and his mind, finally pulling his legs out from under him. What a great relief to lay down, he thought. His eyelids gradually became more and more heavy until finally there was nothing to do but succumb. He had given in to that sweet release, and then and only then did darkness consume him fully.
What he does not remember is waking up. It had been abrupt (isn’t it always?) and confusing. His eyes fluttered open (still the same blue) but something was different. Gone was the powerful, sleek body of the horse. Gone were the orange dragon wings and the feeling of fire in his veins. It had been replaced instead with something much more mundane and certainly boring. His frame was still lithe, but human now. Black hair flopped carelessly atop his head and he had an attractive face, but it was still so foreign and weak feeling. Blinking slowly he arose, ungainly for the moment on his two legs. For the moment he was naked, and his eyes swept over the planes of his chest and stomach. Looking up he noticed only two things- doors, painted red and yellow. The man furrowed his brows as he thought. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that a choice had to be made. With a deep breath he reached forward until his hand closed on the knob jutting from the red door…
The far-off sound of steel shod hoof on cobblestone was the first thing he noticed, followed by the inky darkness. To either side of him crude buildings stretched upwards, the shutters of these dwellings closed tight against the London fog. Gas streetlights flickered meekly through the mire, casting shadows around them in all directions. The man looked down to notice he was clothed now, in a simple black suit. Worn leather shoes peaked from beneath his trousers, while a top hat sat covering his black hair. His hand was clenched around the handle of a cane. The night was quiet for the most part. The stink of the Thames flooded his nostrils, while a pair of cats screeched in the alleyway. Deciding there was nothing to be gained by standing idly, he walked forward. His heels clicked on the crude roadway, echoing off of the building walls around him. Suddenly though, a scream split’s the night, and a woman lurches out of the shadows, her hair in disarray and her lipstick smeared. He supposes she is beautiful but the stink of desperation hangs about her in clouds. Her clothing is provocative, and he cannot help but notice how her sweat-soaked breasts protrude from her corseted dress. “Help me!” she chokes. She grabs him by the lapels of his coat, and her hollow eyes are alive with fear. “Please…he, it…he’s after me. Please, I’ve only just escaped! We must run!” Flamevein looks around and sees nothing, though he thinks perhaps he hears something. Raspy breath, and a putrid smell that overwhelms even that being emitted by the filthy nearby river. Suddenly he emerges from the shadows- a small well-dressed man. Flamevein eyes him suspiciously, whilst the girl at his side clenches his arm painfully. “That’s him!” she hisses in his ear. Her hot breath breaks him from his reverie. “What have you done to this woman?” he growls at the stranger. The stranger says nothing and continues to stare at the pair. A grin twists his lips, and Flamevein feels fear grip his stomach. Whereas he had woken up with blunt human teeth, the gentlemen staring at him had something similar to that of a wolves. Flamevein stepped backwards, grabbing the girls hand as he did so. “On my count, we run. Fast. One…two…three!” On three he whirled around, dragging the girl with him as he went. A fierce snarl ripped through the inky air and he knew they were being pursued. Still they ran, dodging this way and that in an effort to throw the beast off their scents. Finally when it seemed there was some distance, the darted into a side door, panting in the darkness as they looked at one another.
Flamevein reached into his pocket, unsurprised to find a matchbook there. He struck one and held it before his face. The sight that met his eyes was enough to make him and his companion retch. Two more women…or what once were women. The first ones head was completely torn from her body, her blonde hair matted thick with blood. Her entrails were had been pulled from her by a gash in her abdomen and were looped around the neck of the other woman- a beautiful brunette. “Oh my God…Sally! Margret!” said Flameveins companion. “My name is Ella. These were my friends.” she sobs, wiping her filthy face on Flameveins lapels. A rattled drawing of breath causes them both to start, and they turn to see the brunette gasping at the air. Her throat had been crudely slashed and her once white dress was stiff with dried and drying blood. Around her butchered neck was a heavy gold chain from which an old key stood. They began moving towards her when suddenly a resounding crash broke the almost silence. Their eyes (Ella and Flameveins) met one anothers, while the brunette on the floor thrashed wildly. The creature at the door snarled, clearly angry at being denied so many potential victims. For the first time Flamevein noticed the door behind them- a heavy old thing with iron fittings. Suddenly, he knew what had to be done. “We must distract him. Here, help me!” Flamevein said, revolted at what he was getting ready to do. Ella looked at him and hesitated only a moment. Working together they lifted Margret, who choked and gurgled on the blood flowing into her lungs. Tears ran down Ella’s face, but still she pushed and tugged. As they neared the door Flamevein reached forward and tugged the necklace free from the dying womans neck. Her eyes widened, but she could make no effort to stop him. Finally they neared the door where the creature stood slobbering. “Ok Ella…trust me one more time. We open the door and shove her out - no, don’t cry, please. She’s dying anyways. She may not even know whats happening anymore. We shove her out and run back across to this door. I think the key she had around her neck opens it. Do you trust me?” Ella looked at him through her tear-soaked eyes, but finally she nodded. “NOW!” Flamevein shouted, wrenching the door open. The creature roared victoriously, and as quick as they could they shoved poor Margret into its waiting jaws. Her once beautiful face was the last thing he saw before the creature clamped its hungry jaws over her bleeding neck.
Lurching forward he threw his shoulder into the door. Ella had done the same, and she cried out as her shoulder met the wood. “Hurry Ella!” Flamevein pleaded, grabbing her by the waist and dragging her backwards. Already the creature had grown bored of their bait and was raking its claws down the door. Shaking slightly Flamevein reached back into his pocket until his fingers closed around the old key. He pulled it from his pocket and fumbled for just a moment before shoving it into the keyhole. Ella trembled at his side, her eyes glancing from door to door so quick she seemed to be seizing. A telltale click filled the air and he knew he had been right. “Come on!” he hissed, and they burst through the locked door just as the creature began tearing into the other. They slam the heavy old door shut behind them. The creature paces behind them like a caged cat- clearly it can hear them and smell them, but it cannot reach them. For whatever reason it does not attack the door, but it does not abandon them entirely. Biding its time. In the darkness they slump together, and he is surprised to find him wrapping Ella in his arms. After all, they were alive together. Alive. “We’re alive.” The darkness consumes his whisper.
flamevein
fire bending son of carnage and alcippe
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