Date and time:
Evening of April 22, between the hours of 1 A.M. and dawn. (Just after Adrian's departure.)Rating:
PG agian? (never been real good at this part of things 'cept when it comes to sexual
related things. xD)Summary:
After Adrian's departure, Marius and Armand find themselves back in Pravda only to be discovered by a rather feral, disoriented and bitter Bianca. As Armand attempts to coax her to come with them, Marius quickly grabs her and carries her off to his house before she can get away with Armand following swiftly after. What happens next? READ IT AND FIND OUT! XD
She hadn't been keeping track of time. It seemed pointless to do so, when no night was any more or less significant than the one preceding or following it. She wasn't able, even, to take measure of it as a journey, counting down the days, hours, minutes, till she reached her destination. She had no idea where her destination was. Her only guide was the strange, aching tug in her chest - something like an invisible line drawing her along, reeling her in.
It would have worried her, had she the slightest hint of self preservation left. The fear that struck her from time to time was nothing more than an animal instinct - an adrenaline reaction to the alien sights and sounds of the 21st century. She had no concern about what lay ahead. Let it come. And if it destroyed her, perhaps that was so much the better.
She fed where she could, adhering only grudgingly to the old rule that Marius had insisted upon. The Evil Doer. Well, every man had in him the propensity to do evil, did he not? And besides, why should she oblige Marius, now? She owed him nothing.
Increasingly, the discarded corpses were unrecognizable. She imagined it a sort of warped fairy-tale trail - a map of where she'd been. Perhaps someone would follow.
Or not, if history was anything to go by.
Eventually the barren, murky swampland gave way, at intervals, to small towns: shacks half caved in and buried by the weight of tree limbs and Spanish moss - the odd lit window staring out at her like a disembodied eye. Despite the ease of hunting in such places, she hurried past, stuck to the shadows, head bowed. There was something unsettling about them - little hamlets of mortality concealed in the midst of nothingness.
Then, quite suddenly, there was a great expanse of water. The towering construction of cement and metal that bridged it frightened her, as did the lit-up metal carriages that roared across it. The piercing silence of the night sky was, after all, preferable and she took to it, closing her eyes, letting the pull in her chest guide her.
In a matter of minutes her bare, dirty feet set down in a quiet street. She opened her eyes, cautiously, and was relieved to find that the scene in front of her was perhaps the most familiar she had laid eyes upon in weeks. The buildings seemed not entirely unfamiliar - there was a decrepit kind of charm to them that was reminiscent of the Paris of 100 years ago. She could hear the soft, chaotic rumble of human revelry not too far away, and found herself inexplicably drawn towards it. As she walked, the streets became more crowded, and at length she had to duck down a quieter side street to avoid the dizzying effects of burning, spinning lights, the press of human flesh, the cacophony of thought and the scent...
Quieter, yes. It was better to be separate, for now. Until she understood why she was here. The pounding in her head receded slightly as she navigated the backstreets, avoiding the gaze and path of those mortals she did come across. How odd she must look, she realized, as a young couple deliberately crossed the street to avoid her. It occurred to her that she had no idea what state she was in, physically, though she could tell that her clothing was in tatters, her hair tangled and thick with leaves and twigs.
An image, flashed briefly in her mind, pulled her attention suddenly towards a small bar on the opposite side of the street. The windows were lit with a soft red glow, and the music - whilst foreign, and still slightly more discordant than she was used to - played at a softer, more inviting level. But the image...it was the image that caused her to drift, wraith-like, towards the open door, framed for a moment in the light like some badly rendered imitation of a Botticelli. The beauty was still there - her natural loveliness rendered unearthly and eerie by the blood, but she had faded, tarnished by her time beneath the earth - by everything she had suffered.
"Marius." she whispered, scanning the near empty bar in a daze, trying to ascertain how the image had come to her - and from whom.
Armand turned, wide eyed at the beautiful creature before them. They'd gone back into Pravda, to talk, he suspected, in the courtyard away from the people he had managed to convince he was human... but there was Bianca, finally, after so many years... and suddenly it would not matter what the humans thought, or what anyone thought. It only mattered that there was the woman he had known so long ago, and... she had survived! "Bianca!" he whispered, taking a step closer to her.
Marius had been attempting to talk Armand out of his silly ideas to save the world when he too turned to look at the door. He was stunned. He couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't utter a word except for a name and in the smallest of whispers. "Bianca."
She had felt their presence before she heard them. A tilt of her head brought them into view, standing there together, as if not one thing had changed in three hundred years. It almost sickened her, how easy they looked together. But her overwhelming initial reaction was shock - a paralyzing, incapacitating dread that crept upon her out of nowhere. Perhaps she was simply hallucinating. Or dreaming. Yes, that was it - this must, all of it, just be a painful, unpleasant dream inflicted on her by some malevolent God. Because it didn't make sense, that they were here - nor that she had found them - almost stumbled upon them, coincidentally. Not after so long.
She swallowed heavily, eyes darting away from them, around the room, then back again. She took a step backward, uncertainly, not entirely sure whether to stand her ground or run. It wasn't fear, exactly - at least, not the same kind of fear she'd been experiencing since she awoke. Perhaps, after all, she did have a little self preservation left - and it was telling her to run far, far away.
Quickly, he thought, quickly they should retreat to the courtyard, take her with them, to hide this meeting which should have been somewhere else... anywhere not so amid strangers. Armand took another step toward Bianca and held out his hand, "Come," he said, waiting for her to take it, "Let's go out back... come away from the lights and the... others here." He still wished to preserve that masquerade. Not to reveal himself or others to the mortals around them. It was crass. It seemed horrible to be public.
Marius' heart sank as he looked at her. He knew he was the reason for her looking the way she did, acting the way she did and it pained him greatly in knowing this. He wanted to help her, with all his being he wanted so badly to help her but the question was would she let him. He was almost afraid to speak to her but with a few other people watching them he finally managed to regain his composure and speak. "Yes, come my dear. Let us get you cleaned up. Let us restore you to what you once were, who you once were." He wanted to reach out to her but he feared her reaction. Though they could not actually hear
each other, Marius made his sadness apparent for anyone who cared to see.
The dread and panic that had overcome her took over, blotting out her ability to react reasonably or logically. She had been more animal than human since she'd risen, and this situation, stressful and terrifying as it was, made behaving rationally even more difficult. Without even realizing she was doing it, a soft growl escaped her lips, and she took another uneasy step backwards. She was being watched, she could feel it - not just by the two of them, but by other eyes - mortal eyes - and it only served to increase her anxiety. She had to get out of here. It had no escaped her notice that she had grown increasingly brutal and unpredictable when cornered. She dug her fingernails into her palms hard, breaking the skin. "I cannot..." she managed to murmur, though it came out more as a whine than as any sort of intelligible phrase. "I can't..."
To break the mental cycle, he hoped, Armand used the old language they had all favored in Venice, and hoped that it would provide them a little more secrecy among other people whom he was fairly certain, even if they too spoke it, they knew a more modern version. He said to Bianca, "Not exactly as we were, none of us will be, but you're strong, Bianca. You have the strength you need to overcome the pain. Please come back here with us, or at least let us go to a place we can all have a little more sanctuary." He did not drop his hand that was extended, but stepped closer.
This wasn't going to work and Marius knew it. She was too lost in her madness to be coaxed into accompanying them. They'd lose her by the time rational thought occurred to her. Without warning and with his usual swiftness, Marius lunged out at Bianca and grabbed her. Before she could really put up much of a fight, the older blond turned to his beloved Amadeo and quickly spoke in their old tongue, "Follow me quickly." and before another word was spoken, he carried Bianca off to the Garden District where the old master had bought a house.
Bianca barely had time to register what was happening before she found herself caught, held and carried away. He moved too fast, and it enraged her that still, after all this time, he was stronger, more powerful, more in control than she was. She tried to break free from his grasp, but it was useless, and it didn't take long before she became still, lifeless and heavy in his arms. Fine. So be it. It was pointless fighting - for now. But the moment he let her go, she would be gone. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine herself elsewhere - back under the earth, safe and alone and without thought or feeling.
Armand was aghast at seeing Bianca handled this way. Before she would even have a chance to reach out to him, before she was given a chance to be strong, Marius forced her to be weak! He stared dumbfounded for a moment, but followed them out to at least a point where he could not be seen by mortal eyes if he flew after them, and he followed.
Once inside the house, Marius quickly took Bianca up the stairs and into the master bathroom. When he finally set her down to look at her again, his face seemed almost cold but still managed to show his remorse he felt toward her. "I won't ask for your forgiveness Bianca. I know I don't deserve it." He then gently kissed her cheek and turned to Armand. "Help her get cleaned up. There's nowhere for her to go now and we all only have a few hours left before dawn. I leave her in your care Amadeo." And with that, Marius reluctantly walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
She stood immediately, backing against the wall, her expression tense and wild. This was bad. This was very bad. It was some small relief that Marius had left, but still...Amadeo was there, still, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him. It was too much, to be forced into this situation, with no clear way to escape. She closed her eyes, making a soft whining sound in the back of her throat, wanting nothing more than to be unconscious, to be free of the crushing pain she felt when she looked at either of them.
There was nothing else he could think to do, for even if Marius could not read her mind, he could sense everything she felt and thought clearly. He took one of the larger towels from off the rack and draped it around her shoulders, "He bids me do things to you, as if you would not have a say what would be done. Listen to my voice, please, my sister... for that is what you are now, he made you. My sister forever." He went to the sink and filled the bowl that was beside it with warm water and brought it over to her. "Listen to me, please," he said softly, "No matter what he has done to bring you here, you are still in control. You can have yourself be clean or not. It doesn't matter, for your beauty is too great to be harmed by a bit of dust on your cheeks."
He was wrong. She might have the illusion of choice: whether to wash, or not, for example, but it was a small comfort. She hadn't chosen to see them. She hadn't chosen to be here, to be in such close quarters with them both, again. And it was that choice that was significant. In that, it seemed, she was completely powerless. It would, she thought, almost have been better had he forced her to do something. Had he, like Marius, made demands and taken control. His kindness, after so long...after everything, was more than she could bare. She raised her eyes to his for a moment, and saw, through a curtain of her own tangled hair, almost the same boy she'd met hundreds of years ago, when they were both human. Here he was - not entirely the cold, changed thing she had seen in Paris. He was different, yes. But somehow, underneath it all, he seemed the same. She parted her lips to speak, but no sound would come out. Dimly, she became aware that her cheeks were warm and damp with blood tears. "...it cannot be you, really..." she whispered, distantly "...I'm dreaming..."
He smiled a little at her insisting that she must be dreaming, but it faded when he saw the tears roll down her cheeks. "But the blood looks sorry on your lovely visage. Please permit me to wash them away." He set the bowl down beside them and dipped a cloth into the water, bringing the warm liquid up to her cool cheeks, brushing them gently, if she didn't pull away from him again, that is. "When I came to your home, my feet were cleaned, my cup was full, now it is time for me to be host, don't you agree?"
She allowed him to wash her face, flinching only very slightly when he raised the cloth initially. He seemed to understand her in a way that Marius had not, though that didn't exactly surprise her. It seemed always to have been the way, even before the blood shut down the unspoken communication between herself and her maker. Her tears ceased as quickly as they had begun, and she felt herself calmed slightly, the ache in her chest lessening, the chaos in her mind relaxing to a dull, muted chatter. Still, this wasn't her choice - and she resented Marius even more for forcing her here. She closed her eyes, letting Amadeo wash the last of the blood and dirt from her face.
"Is that what this is?" she asked, quietly "...repayment for some past debt? Why approach me now, when you did not, before?"
"I tried but it was too late. I had sent out my warning, and you had heeded it, before I knew for sure that it was you... you were gone. I was not at all sure that you were still alive in any way, then, and when I could know what had happened, Akasha had destroyed almost everyone. I could not bear to seek when I thought... when I thought ..." he sighed.
She was silent for a long moment, dropping her gaze from his, appearing particularly interested in the patterned tiles on the floor.
"I see." she said, at length. "You need not have concerned yourself. I slept."
"Would you like a bath?" he asked, hoping to change the subject. He didn't want to inquire what had driven her there. It was always pain that did that, of one kind or another, it could be only pain. He took her hand in his and began to rub it with the cloth as well. "So white..." he said softly, "You were always milky, but now it really is like the white petals of a snowy rose." He had never known her this way, as a blood drinker. The changes from what he remembered seemed to fascinate him.
She didn't know what she wanted, really. It seemed almost obscene that she should be here with him, after so long - being taken care of in this way. She had made a point of cutting herself off, distancing herself from others so as to avoid further pain. And yet now, being here with him, it was so easy to slip back into something like her old self...to let herself become weakened by care and by love.
She watched him as he examined her hand, realizing belatedly that this was the first time he had seen her this way. She wondered if it felt like a loss, to him - if he noticed, as she did, that a part of her had been destroyed when she had taken Marius' blood.
Maybe after all it wouldn't be such a bad thing, to be clean.
"Yes." she replied, softly. "Will you stay with me?"
"I will stay with you," he promised, and began to draw the hot bath for her. He opened the bottles he found near the tub, sniffing each one for the bath oil and suds, he smiled and held them under her nose as well, "Which one do you want to smell like?" He liked taking care of her this way, and yes, part of her was lost, but, so was part of him, and yet here they were together, and the bath was too sweet. He was even tempted to get in, but he took the cloth he had dried her tears with and suggested she wipe herself down with it before getting in.
It still seemed surreal. She watched as he fussed about, running the bath, testing the water for her... She couldn't help but feel another surge of bitterness that she'd lived the way she had for so long, when it could have been like this. And yet, it wasn't really Amadeo she was angry with. After all, he couldn't help what had happened to him. But Marius...
She wouldn't think about it. Not now.
She selected a gentle rose and peach scent that put her in mind of something she'd worn years ago - perhaps even when she was still human. It was such a relief, to wipe the worst of the grime and dust off, to peel the tattered, muddy rags off her body and slip into the hot water. It hadn't even occurred to her to be shy about undressing. After all, she never had been, before.
She rested her arms on the side of the bath, tilting her head to watch him, as she soaked.
"Thank you." a hesitant, wry smile crept across her face.
"It is my pleasure," he said, and loved speaking in the old tongue. He had almost forgotten how! The wry smile made his own creep across his lips and he said, "You look lonely in there... someone should be in there with you to wash your back."
She actually laughed at that - a sweet, gentle laugh that illuminated her face. It was so much something he would have said, before. Before all this absence and coldness had come between them.
"Well, there's room..." she conceded, amused "...I see nothing has changed. Marius still enjoys bathing."
He pulled off his clothing quickly, it was easy this modern attire. Not so many buttons or ties, it was all designed so simply, and quickly he was in the tub with her, almost giggling like a girl, that here he had Bianca in a bath!
"So long away, and when I meet you again, we do this!" He helped scrub her skin clean, but it progressed from rubbing with a cloth to his hands, to kissing her skin, and suds everywhere. He loved to be so close, and he pressed his cheek to her shoulder and said, "I have missed you."
She smiled as he rested his head against her. It was so easy to be with him, as if no time had passed at all, as if none of those terrible things had happened. She sighed softly, reaching to take hold of his hand, lacing their fingers together. "I should have spoken to you, in Paris." she conceded, quietly. "But you had changed so much. I could feel it - how different you were. It frightened me."
"It was harder then, I was harder. It's true, I had spent too long living among the bones. I still dream I'm there, sometimes, less often now, it used to haunt me back then." He sighed a little and then breathed in the scent of the water, "I almost never dream of Venice, why can't I dream of Venice?"
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door accompanied by an unfamiliar voice. "Pardon my intrusion." It was the butler of the house. A gentle older man in his mid-fifties that stood only a couple inches taller than Armand. He opened the door slightly with his eyes covered being the modest and moral man that he was, "The master has bid me to collect your measurements for new clothes when your finished madam. In the meantime, I have set a robe out for you on the bed." He then removed his hand but kept his eyes closed and nodded as he then left the room again.
Armand laughed, "Tell him to make them like they were in Venice!"
Bianca laughed again, despite herself. She wasn't used to people being so painfully polite, and the manner in which the butler had awkwardly covered his eyes amused her to no end. Presently, however, she sobered, turning her head a little to glance back at Armand.
"I don't dream at all, anymore." she confided "...I think I taught myself not to. It was easier, to forget."
She fell silent for a moment, lost in thought, before speaking again: "...does he want me to stay? Marius, I mean. I don't think I can do this. Remain here. Its...too much. Too quickly. I cannot forgive him."
"Then don't forgive him, but do stay, please. It's too soon, and this is too good a thing for both of us. The world knows about us now, it's mad, but they talk about vampires openly, we're on the television and radio. There are groups... lobbying for rights and recognition in the mortal realm of law. It's insane."
"...television?" she turned properly to face him, raising an eyebrow at him. "And...people know? But that's..." she shook her head, her brows furrowing "...I don't like it. It doesn't seem right. It was never the way, with us. And what of hunting...feeding?"
He shook his head, "It will never work, not this way. We need to remain hidden. Even if others come forward, we must preserve our anonymity. If that is even possible after what foolish things ... I have done as well as the others. Oh how could I let David convince me that a biography was a good idea?"
At this, Bianca simply stared at him, eyebrows raised again, her mouth slightly open.
"...what?" she inquired, incredulously. "A...biography? That mortals have read?"
He blushed again. "uhm... yeah. Billions of readers... it's a bit embarrassing. But you see, at the time, I never dreamed that people would take us seriously! They'd had it in their faces before, and they wrote it off! How was I to know that this movement would happen?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, as a thought occurred to her.
"Am I in it?"
She wasn't entirely sure whether to be flattered, or annoyed. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, before she relaxed into an amused smirk.
"I see. Well, I do hope you said nice things. If I'm to be recognized in the streets, I'd prefer that it be favorably rather than unfavorably." she shook her head at him, in disbelief. "What ever possessed you to do it? It seems such a pointless pursuit - even a dangerous one...to have your history in the hands of mortals." she reached out and mussed his hair, playfully.
He relaxed as she mussed his hair. It was wet and stood up now in damp curls, "I was convinced by this crafty old Talamascan... what could I do? I guess I wanted to tell my story... everyone was doing it and getting away with it. It seemed relatively harmless. But at least I didn't tell everyone's right names."
"Oh well, that's alright then!" she said, sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him. "I just hope we can keep the fans from mobbing you, now that everyone knows that you're real."
She drew her knees up under her chin, sighing softly. "I suppose we should get out. Must I speak with Marius tonight, do you think? I'm not sure that I can...and if I do, it certainly won't be pleasant."
"Hmm... okay but wait until after he puts you in a fine dress and pearls." It sounded funny, as if it was taking advantage of Marius, but not only would he do it, he knew, for Bianca with love, but maybe, just maybe it would soften her blows just a little.
She sighed heavily, as if being fitted for new clothes (which she desperately needed) were a great trial. "...but tonight?" she looked at him, her lips forming into a childish pout "...it's so late. It must be almost morning, no?"
Armand sensed that it was. "They'll have time to work on the dress through the day, and of course he will be gentleman enough to wait for you to be clothed before you're talking with him. Or... I would hope he would be. You will have to talk to him eventually, but I expect that it is a woman's prerogative whether or not to give a man the pleasure of her conversation."
She smiled again, nodding in agreement. "You are right. It is. And I expect speaking with him will be unavoidable...especially after his..." she swallowed, as if admitting what came next was extremely difficult and unpleasant "...generosity. But it will be difficult. I am glad it doesn't have to be tonight."
She stood, wringing the excess water from her lengthy golden hair, before stepping daintily over the edge of the bath, reaching for a nearby towel. She wrapped it around herself, turning back to him, head tilted impishly to one side.
"And where shall I sleep?"
Armand shrugged, "You can with me, I suppose... otherwise, he might have arrangements for you here." He stood up and toweled himself off. He scrubbed the water out of his locks and brushed his fingers back through it. It fell then as it always did, and he felt good in this soft scent all over him now. "I will ask him." He stepped out ahead of her, wrapping a towel around his middle.
She lingered in the bathroom, awkwardly, less at ease now that he had left her. Cautiously, she ventured out into the adjoining bedroom - which was, she was relieved to find, empty. She hastened to discard the towel, wrapping herself in the robe the butler had left for her, then perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for his return.
It wasn't long before the butler returned to the bedroom. Knocking at the door politely before entering. "Might I come in madam?" He waited for her reply before daring to enter the room.
Meanwhile, Marius was sitting in a large, plush high-back red chair in his new found library just staring off into space. He'd been brooding and tormenting himself mentally for things that had long since past. He knew she'd never forgive him. Hell really hath no fury like a woman scorned. He'd learn that much over the years.
"Master, " he said tapping at the door though it stood open, "Do you have a room for her to sleep the day?" He was still standing there in a towel.
Marius looked up from his thoughts at the soft tapping of Armand's knuckles on the door. "Yes. There's a bed in the basement that's been built into the wall so that all she need do is close the sliding door to keep out the sunlight." He sighed solemnly before asking, "How is she? Has her mind calmed itself at all?"
"She's well," he said, "She would like some time to collect herself before speaking with you." he shrugged, "I'll ask the butler to show us the room. Is it really a basement, here?" He was curious to see if it was actually a basement, or just a lower room such as was more common here in the odd little city. He padded back to where she was, and his clothes were.
Whilst Amadeo spoke with Marius, Bianca had let the amusing mortal butler take her measurements. It was extremely difficult for her to restrain herself, unaccustomed as she was to the presence of mortals. Besides which, she was starving...it seemed an age since she'd last fed, and upon reflection she realized it must, at least, have been a week. The journey had been more important than taking any kind of care of herself, and she'd often neglected to hunt, unless she came upon a meal by chance. It was a relief when the man left the room, all her measurements taken. She sunk back onto the bed, flopping onto her back and staring up at the ceiling as a child might, still half wondering how easy it would be to escape the house altogether and dig herself deep below the surface - safe, secure, asleep for another hundred years. But, on the other hand, she'd just bathed...it would seem a shame to become dirty all over again.
Armand entered after a soft knock. He went quickly to fetch his clothing and pulled it back on. He wondered if the Butler would take his measurements as well, "I should ask Marius for some clothing. I wonder what he would give to me."
"Whatever you asked for, I imagine." she replied, slightly coldly, though she regretted immediately taking that tone with him. "...has he somewhere for me to sleep?"
"He has... I will ask the butler where it is. A basement, he called it. I expect it's a place dripping with luxury, not really a root cellar." He laughed, "I imagine he would give me anything I asked for to wear. I just wonder how he would clothe me now that he can't put me in leggings and little velvet slippers."
"I hadn't thought of that..." she reflected, propping herself up on one elbow and looking him over, thoughtfully. "What do you suppose he'll conjure up, for me? There seems no elegance in clothing, any longer. What I have seen of it, anyway." she paused "...a basement? Tremendous. Perhaps I should leave, after all..."
Armand shrugged and sat at the foot of the bed. "I don't know. We could sleep here if we covered the windows... maybe." He reached out to find the butler's presence and to know his name. He called it out with his voice and then patted her foot. "If it's not good enough, you will stay with me."
"But you will want to be with him, won't you?" she looked down at him, feeling suddenly rather anxious - all the more aware of how powerless she was, here in this house.
Suddenly there was yet another knock at the door. "You called for me young sir?"
Armand winced, having forgotten momentarily how the world beyond his acquaintances perceived him, "Yes. Show us the lower room, please." He stood and offered a hand up to Bianca, though it was entirely unnecessary.
She took it, curling her fingers around his, not letting go as they walked from the room, following the butler to the lower floor of the house.
Nodding to the two, Henry turned and began leading the way down the stairs. They had passed the library in which Marius had been sitting but apparently he was no longer there. Once they all reached the door to the lowest part of the house, the butler smiled as he opened the door. "Here we are sir, madam." He then happily led the way down the carpeted steps and into a lavish room Marius had made especially for any potential guests
he might have. "I have laid out a couple nightgowns for you both until I can have proper clothes made. Also, the master bid me to take your measurements as well, sir."
The boy vampire nodded at the man and said, "Whenever you need them." He waited for him to produce the measuring tape. Good! He would have clothes too. He wondered what Marius would produce for them, now, and was instantly in a better mood. When the measuring was done he flopped himself into the bed and said, "Marius and I have been sharing sleeping space, it is true, but if you're really preferring company, I will stay with you."
She glanced around the room, finding it - unsurprisingly - very nicely furnished - comfortable and elegant. Just like Marius, to lavishly decorate his 'basement'.
"Its fine." she replied, slightly coldly. "Another night after so many alone will hardly kill me." She could feel the dawn stealing slowly over the horizon, feel the death-like sleep beginning to call to her. "Go, if you want to. I won't keep you here."
"Thank you, sister. I will see you at dusk!" And he ran... fast as he could without harming the floor, doors or anything else on the way to Marius. It had been stealing over him too, faster than he expected and he collapsed before he could reach the sanctum, panic flooding over him as he realized his mistake. How could he after so many years? And now dawn... "help.."
Luckily for Armand, the butler was just outside Marius' door having already closed it when he saw the younger of the three vampires collapse on the floor in front of him. Wide eyed and not entirely sure what to do, Henry quickly opened Marius' door again, picked the immortal boy up and carried him into the room. "Master!"
Sitting up in his bed, Marius flew open the curtain to his bed, grabbed his precious Amadeo from his butler and pulled him into safety. Henry quickly closed the curtains back securely before double checking the room for any holes in which light might leak in. When he found none and knew everyone to be safe, he made his way out of the room again, closing the door behind him.
Meanwhile, Marius just looked at Amadeo thoughtfully. He couldn't help but smile at the immortal boy. "What on earth Amadeo?" He asked with a slight chuckle in his voice.
He could no longer answer, but he closed his eyes as his head was pressed against Marius, and let himself slip the rest of the way into sleep.