Elliott Voltaire awoke from his darkened slumber, tossing and turning in his coffin, ransacking his sheets and his pillow. The sound of his soft breathing filled the hollow space he was sleeping in. Like a bear knows how to stop his long slumber, Elliott knew how to awake from his light sleep. He reached across his body and gently tugged at the silver lock that encased his world. When it clicked open he grasped the silver chain attached to the lid and pulled ever so gracefully to release the seal on his coffin and bring him into his dark room to arise. He looked out, the darkened room lit by merely a pewter colored candelabra. The dim light was still enough for him to make out the darkened figures and shapes about him, the dressers and tables stared at him like an angry mob, the shadows and light dancing around their figures did not make them anymore attractive. "Another sleepless day." He thought as he rose from his velvet walled bed into his room, grabbing the cold candelabra and walking to his closet with it. He flew open the swiveling door to the closet and grabbed his usual gentleman garb. His dark silk top hat, his white as snow gloves, his black coat and off-white button up shirt. He flexed his pale soft hands and slid his snugly fit gloves on, then he preceded to get ready, with his shirt, his pants and finally his coat, he assured himself he was perfectly dressed by adjusting his glasses, which had a favor of leaning a little too far to the left than usual; not that he needed glasses, he could see perfectly, he just clung to this very 'human' object, which actually impaired his ability to see at night.
He did not need the use of a mirror to create his gentlemanly appearance. He was far to used to 'feeling' what was wrong with him. He oft found mirrors' to be a vain object of affection anyhow; and he seemed to know what he looked like anyway, shoulder-length jet-black hair, dark entrancing hazel eyes, pale, a long jaw line and a muscular body, just strong enough to fit his needs and skinny enough to not be considered fat and lazy. Elliott was fixed up and ready to walk about on the cobblestone street, where he could find his next 'meal'. Poor Elliott never meant harm to anyone, he was actually quite a pacifist till he turned over, however, his pacifism nearly lead to his suicide. To vampires, one who cannot kill, will simply commit suicide by starving himself to death. Then, he killed his first human, a woman. Among the race, its considered taboo to kill a young child or a woman. But, a vampire who wants one, cannot be stopped by human or demon alike.
Elliott walked out his large wooden door and onto the street, closing it and locking it tight. He stepped back to look at it, unlit and secure. His servants asleep and dreaming; totally unaware of their master's whereabouts', as usual. Tonight to him, was just like any other night, a night he needed to feed. He side glanced the house and tipped his hat, a kind of promise he'd be back in a little while. He walked away casually looking at his small silver pocket-watch, 10:27 it read out, the second hand ticking rapidly.
"Time to hurry, best not miss the time to return home." Elliott sighed as he thought to himself. He hastened his pace walking onward, the black shiny shoes he was wearing clicking on the uneven cobblestone road. He came onto a small resting area with two small benches, he sat, looking to the sky; the moon. Remembering the days of yore, like an elder man, the night he turned… the night he killed. Elliott held the side of his neck, the scars of the puncture wounds still clear as the stars. Head held low, he began to remember, drifting into his own mind. Images popping into his head, a woman bathed in blood, wrapped in Elliott's arms. Hiding away and frightened, a young boy no older than 13, eyes shut and ears covered with his tiny hands, as a dark figure approached the boy, and with swift movements killed the boy, his blood hitting wood floors. After the man had left, Elliott looked to the sky, crying out for his 'god' who would not respond.
That next morning, Elliott did not wake to the sun, in lieu of this, he had taken to his bed, and slept the day away, only to awaken to a darkened sky. The first thing he remembered was his sight changing, warping and twisting walls and shadows to resemble demons and skeletons. His fear grew great, his palms sweaty, his body pulsed though there was no heartbeat; his ears picked up sounds he had never heard before, his nose picked up distant scents that to him smelt like they were directly under his nose. He fled his room in fear and woke most of his servants from their slumber. They settled him and asked him what the matter was, even though they had made their own diagnosis; they all assumed it was because of what happened, how anyone would be delusional after that. They soon sent him to bed, and Elliott was left with the demons again. All that first day, he lay awake and shaking, his eyes darting, his nose smelling like a dog, his ears picking up the sounds of his servants speaking ill tongue of him. So he lay, awaiting sleep that would never come…
A clatter was heard and Elliott snapped out of his mind; Turning back to reality, back to his hunger and thirst. He looked to the road, an elder man was hobbling at a heavy pace toward the bench opposite of Elliott, His body leaning onto his wooden cane. Elliott rose to greet the man,
"Good Evening sir, might I ask what you are doing out so late?" He said as interested in this man as possible food. The staggered man sat at the bench and took a hanky from his pocket to dab his sweating face.
"There's not much to say as to why I'm out young man. Other than my leg, you see, it gets stiff at times and I must stretch it out. At, nights I come out to walk. My poor wife stays up till I come back." The Old man rambled, seeming flippant about it, which rather annoyed Elliott. However Elliott remained stoic of his real feelings and carried on with the man, luring him into his trap.
"I see sir. It seems to me as though it rather hurts you. Have you seen my good friend Maxwell Jennings? He's a very good Doctor." Elliott said with a seductive smile that crept along his face.
"I did not realize he had friends, I have met Dr. Maxwell, he has unusual methods of curing people." The man began to hack, as he pulled out his hanky to cover his mouth, Elliott smiled like a wolf about to eat a rabbit, then switched quickly to a concerned façade.
"My goodness sir, are you alright?" Elliott cooed. Elliott approached the old man and extended his hand to help. The elder man batted away his offer and stood up. Finally breathing and tipped his hat.
"I apologize for startling you young man, Just had something in my throat. I'll take my leave now, my wife will be wondering of me." He began to walk, Elliott frowned disapprovingly. He followed behind the man and turned him by the shoulder.
"You must not leave yet, I believe we were still talking." Elliott insisted, The man saw the red in Elliott's eyes and became frightened. Elliott on the other hand, was becoming rather impatient. His patience running thinner as his hunger grew. The old man, now startled sat back down, and looked to Elliott sweating slightly. Elliott sat in front of him, calm and smirking. Elliott looked at his pocket-watch again, 3:47 it read, Elliott didn't have much longer. "So my good sir, what have you to do later?" Elliott sadistically said; the man calmed slightly, wiping his sweaty face once again.
"I believe I have tea with a good friend of mine tomorrow bright and early, seems I never see him anymore you see when we were youn-"
"Consider those plans canceled good sir." Elliott interrupted, Staring down the man with a wolf's hungry glare. The man squirmed in his seat, frightened by what Elliott had turned into in a matter of moments.
"Pardon me?" He asked Elliott, who only rose and walked closer to him.
"My good sir are you hard of hearing? I had said that you may consider your tea plans for the morrow canceled." He grabbed the mans arm and pulled him to his feet with grace and ease. "Come with me, and I shall show you first hand why this is so." He said in a manner that gave him no choice, the man hobbled forward and stopped as Elliott continued walking. After a few steps, he stopped and faced the old man. Who just stood, looking at him with disapproval. Elliott sighed and made his way to the elder, shaking his head at the trouble he was having. "Good sir, you are really troubling m-" Elliott was cut off by the old man who swung his cane at Elliott's head, he struck Elliott on the jaw and split it open, letting blood come from the gash that opened. Elliott winced and hit the road, holding his jaw and moving in a fashion to see if it wasn't broken. "….Such trouble.." He whispered as he stood up slowly. The man raised his cane again to strike, as he let it down meaning to crack Elliott's skull he grabbed the cane and stopped it. Leaving the man dumbfounded. "That rather hurt sir." Elliott said.
"It should, that'll teach young vagabonds like you to harass innocent people." Elliott shook his head and took the cane from the man's grasp, holding it in his hand he struck the old man once knocking him unconscious.
"Troublesome food never settles well in my stomach for some reason." Elliott said with much leisure as he picked up the old man and revealed his fangs, letting them slink down and glimmer even in the pitch black.