Chapter One - Staccato

Draquis's last name was Dacohnt. Dacohnt was also his title. His title meant 'Love'.

Draquis was The Romancer. He was a poet. He was a lover. He was a gentleman. And yet a seducer.

Draquis was only one of eight beings that made up his true race. The Origi. The Origi were the powerful and the meaningful of the entire race of vampires. At the same time they were a completely different type of creation, born as one of the four Great Races that symbolized the bases for the world they lived in. Jahrz.

Jahrz was a world created by the ultimate god, the Lord of Ends, the eternal and single all-powerful goddess that watched over them as her angelic ivory wings gave them light and her body, the Eternal Waters, gave them dark. Draquis was only a tiny speck compared to all that greatness.

Everyone was just a mere speck. A single dot. A meaningless piece of space that couldn't even be seen. Yet they stood there, plain as day. More so the Origi.

Knowledge, Luck, Power, Greed, Courage, Love, Light, and Dark, each of these eight vampires stood for some part of the complex mechanism called 'humanity'. They acknowledged this and accepted this, including Draquis. But Draquis always wondered.

Draquis Dacohnt, his name spoke of love, of passion, of a burning flame and of the liquid roses that flowed through the veins of all those living. But was that all? Was that all he was in each moment that passed by?

In each moment of a moment, he was everything that love could stand for. Lust, the desire for touch. Passion, the desire for emotion. Romance, the desire for love. And love in all its forms from its purest strength of the heart to the most worshipping belief in someone or something.

Draquis did not only live for love, but he lived to love. He lived to love his creator.

The Lord created Draquis as she did the other seven Origi. They all worshipped their master and they all respected her. But only Draquis loved her with such ferocity that it might almost raise him as high in rank as her.

Ah, then how was he able to change from moment to moment, like a note that jumped to the next? Draquis didn't know, but he didn't seem to care. This was his pleasure. Life was love itself, and to live life to the fullest possibility he had, he had to embrace it. He did that by embracing what he could, wholly and completely.

Well, what he could embrace anyway.

Right now he was sitting in the dining hall, head propped up by both elbows on the long table where he sat at the short end. His seat was somewhat higher than the rest, enough for him to see each human face clearly. Most of them were young. Some roguish, some handsome, some sweet. Most were male. Females dotted either of the two sides here and there, but not much.

He smiled. The oldest of 'his children' were only in the middle of their teen years, not yet even eligible to marry properly just yet. In a year or so, they'd be ready to be turned over. Draquis was fond of children. He didn't much like those who were older.

Of course, he didn't like it when the children were so innocent and naive and so...pure. As these children grew, he made sure to teach them to be greater than humans, to be vampires with pride, to be vampires worthy of being what they were, to be vampires that were good but were also bad. To be vampires without even knowing that they were vampires. Or that they'd turn into one.

Most of these children were runaways. Pick pockets run out of town, orphans that had had enough of the streets and had accidentally stumbled across a mansion in the woods, children that had to work and could never enjoy their youth. Draquis was fond of children. But he wasn't fond of troublesome quirks. He didn't want a whole village after him because he took a child that had meaning to them.

The children finished and left the table one by one, politely thanking the older vampire and excusing him or herself. Soon after, all children were gone and only scraps and crumbs of food were left. Ah, satisfactory. Very.

Draquis got up from his seat and walking around the table slowly, he carried his hand face-down over the table. The dishes seemed to vanish when his hand passed over them.

He remembered a time when his lost little children wouldn't eat much of his cooking. They'd all said it tasted a bit strange. He knew why. Blood.

The children were too naive, they would never have been able to tell what it was. And as they grew, they became accustomed to the taste and in fact, they enjoyed it. As they ate more, they wanted more, and soon their bodies accepted the strange substance that would begin to give them powers.

All the dishes were cleared now and the young vampire made for the halls.

Draquis did all the cooking for his children. He had to, he didn't want them to know what he was putting in the food and he had to put it in himself anyways. Why? Because the blood was his blood. It was so amazing, so interesting that a human could aquire abilities and attributes similar to the vampire whose blood they drank. It was just marvelous. It was brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

He loved to watch them grow so slowly from their exposion to the immortal blood, to help them learn to control their new found powers, to pass on to them what he wished to. And then just before they could grow too much for his liking, he could turn them vampire and make them forever his servants, his children.

But...Draquis sighed... Everything was but a single note passing on to another. Everything was a moment of a moment. Some of his children stayed, some went, some became loyal, others were too pure in heart and had to leave, to dump their gentle master or to be dumped for both of their sakes.

Draquis couldn't force their stay, it wasn't in his nature. He could only guide them this way and that. And sometimes he gave them a little push out into the world himself. Why? Because those children that were pure, he could not find much in him to say no to them. So the least he could do was show them two sides of a fork in the road where one path would lead them back to him and the other lead to greater happiness, to the greater love that Dacohnt stood for but Draquis was...mostly incapable of.

Ah, but then that moment of a moment would arrive again and they would choose the second road where greatness awaited them. The disappointment and the feeling of losing the little hope he had for the children, it was something great to bear for this sentimental man.

He sighed again as he paused in the middle of the hallway. He could remember that one time, just that one time when he had caught a child running away. Now that had hurt. But Draquis let him go..