Goggle-Face
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- May 31, 2008
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It was silent in the bedroom, window open with the moonlight pouring in. No noise between the man and the lady. He with an airy smile, with a hint of romantic intentions (like usual). She with a bored yet hungry glint in her eyes. Yet, she almost looked like this man ahead of her was not worth her time. She looked at him from head to toe; sleek blond hair, rather alluring blue eyes, stubble on his chin, broad shoulders, a grey and white suit on, with a rather cute pink tie around his neck. Remilia, lovely, fair, high expecting Remilia, wasn’t exactly interested in the man before her.
Rolling her neck in a little circle, the vampire didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of him, trying to get the cramp out of her neck.
“J'aime vos cheveux bleus,” he said, speaking in a language Remilia didn’t understand in the slightest. “C'est tellement exotique.”
“English,” she spoke.
He tilted his head. “Oh? You don’t know le langage de l'amour?”
“I clearly don’t,” she said again, the moonlight behind her giving an elegant look to her frame. “Speak a language we both understand.”
“My apologies for thinking you know French, my lady, or thinking you are a Frenchwoman.” he said, “I thought otherwise. I will settle on English, even though it is such a bland language in the bedroom (Remilia felt sick), I will resort to it.”
“T-Tch. Good,” Remilia huffed, breathing out, her locks bouncing when she huffed out. The man in front of her chuckled.
“Before I ask why you insist on invading my room,” He said, flipping some blond hair back, “Do state your name.”
Standing up straight, Remilia puffed her chest out, as if she was speaking to a person much higher and more respected than her. “My name is Remilia, Remilia Scarlet, Scarlet Devil of five hundred years old, descendant of Count Vlad Tepes Dracula.” She smirked after she spoke. “Surprised at a lady this old?”
“Non, I am not,” the man said, “For you see, I myself am a stunning age. I am at least four thousand years old. My name is Bonnefoy, Francis Bonnefoy, but do call me France, after the country I am from. And Dracula? I am sorry, but I’m sure Romania is a closer relative to the man than you ever will be.”
Remilia quirked an eyebrow. “France? You are a king?”
“Non, I am the personification of France. I am the representative of all things French.” he gave her a wink. “That means I can speak le langage de l’amour flawlessly, and I am an excellent lover.”
“I am not interested.” Remilia’s words didn’t mean to leave her lips so harshly, to be honest. “I am not sure why I’m here exactly. Why I’m away from my home, away from the Scarlet Mansion, and Sakuya and Patchouli and everyone I’m close to. I’m not sure what inclined me to come to this strange world.” She licked her lips, gliding he tongue over her fang-like teeth while staring hungrily at Francis. “You shall do quite nicely.”
Francis kept that cocky smile. His face twitched just a bit, feeling worry and dread start to swell in him. “I know I am handsome, my love. And you yourself are gorgeous--”
“Just one bite.” She began to wring her hands, grinning more to show those teeth. Every second, every moment, they seemed to become sharper. “Don’t make this difficult.”
“Such a lovely lady like yourself should not be letting dark ideas pass through your mind--”
Remilia lunged at him, diving on top of the Frenchman and knocking him down. He grabbed onto the vampire by the back of her dress, right on her shoulder blades, pulling her down on top of him. It was a flurry of pink and red blending with grey and white, Remilia’s bright dress the only noticeable light besides the window. She was quite noticeable shorter than Francis, but pinning him down by the wrists with ease. She let go of his wrists to tear and rip at his shirt collar, trying to expose more of his neck, trying to show more flesh, as much as she could.
“M-Mon dieu!” Francis shouted, pushing Remilia back by her shoulders with little to no avail. Fear, flaring like a fire in his heart, caused his vision and mind to blur and turn into mush. Not from lust this time, surprisingly. “Madam! Please get off!”
Pulling at his tie, Remilia pulled it off - after a bit of choking Francis to rip it off - and ripped off his collar, ripping the shirt at the top, stretching the fabric until all of his neck was slowly becoming exposed. More and more flesh was filling her vision, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips hungrily at this meal promised for her. A neck, with no bite marks (Well, the girl could see scars from hickies) just waiting for her teeth to be sunk in, waiting to be bitten and torn at, knaw on, sucked on, waiting to drain it of all blood…
“C-Can you wait until we get to the bed--?!”
She couldn’t speak. The monstrous feelings had taken over. All she could see was food.
“My dear-- Th-This is useless! Help me! Help, someone!!”
Opening her mouth, Remilia went to bite down--
She was thrown off, rolling away from Francis and slamming into the wall. Another man -- no, two men -- had shoved her off. One an albino, another with green eyes and sun kissed skin. The tanned one was pulling Francis to his feet, which was, in the mean time, trying to scramble out of the room instead of being helped up.
“Francis, who is that woman?!” The albino asked, trying to hold him in place.
“G-Get an exorcist!” Francis gasped out, “Get a wooden stake! Get Holland! Get something! That woman isn’t human; s-she’s a vampire of some sorts!”
Remilia got to her knees, glaring over at the two men who had stopped her feasting. Red eyes glinted with annoyance, getting to her feet. Francis was trying to pull these other men out of the room. After staring at her for a few seconds in shock and fear, they allowed Francis to pull them out of the room, screaming at each other to get out of the way, and shouting down the hall, sending warnings to whoever else.
Remilia wiped some saliva from her lips and bounded after them.
Well, let these games begin.
---
Notes:
1. Get Holland! - Van Helsing is a vampire slayer from Holland. Remilia is a vampire.
Translations:
1. "I love your blue hair."
2. "It's so exotic."
3. "Language of love."
4. "My god!"
Rolling her neck in a little circle, the vampire didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of him, trying to get the cramp out of her neck.
“J'aime vos cheveux bleus,” he said, speaking in a language Remilia didn’t understand in the slightest. “C'est tellement exotique.”
“English,” she spoke.
He tilted his head. “Oh? You don’t know le langage de l'amour?”
“I clearly don’t,” she said again, the moonlight behind her giving an elegant look to her frame. “Speak a language we both understand.”
“My apologies for thinking you know French, my lady, or thinking you are a Frenchwoman.” he said, “I thought otherwise. I will settle on English, even though it is such a bland language in the bedroom (Remilia felt sick), I will resort to it.”
“T-Tch. Good,” Remilia huffed, breathing out, her locks bouncing when she huffed out. The man in front of her chuckled.
“Before I ask why you insist on invading my room,” He said, flipping some blond hair back, “Do state your name.”
Standing up straight, Remilia puffed her chest out, as if she was speaking to a person much higher and more respected than her. “My name is Remilia, Remilia Scarlet, Scarlet Devil of five hundred years old, descendant of Count Vlad Tepes Dracula.” She smirked after she spoke. “Surprised at a lady this old?”
“Non, I am not,” the man said, “For you see, I myself am a stunning age. I am at least four thousand years old. My name is Bonnefoy, Francis Bonnefoy, but do call me France, after the country I am from. And Dracula? I am sorry, but I’m sure Romania is a closer relative to the man than you ever will be.”
Remilia quirked an eyebrow. “France? You are a king?”
“Non, I am the personification of France. I am the representative of all things French.” he gave her a wink. “That means I can speak le langage de l’amour flawlessly, and I am an excellent lover.”
“I am not interested.” Remilia’s words didn’t mean to leave her lips so harshly, to be honest. “I am not sure why I’m here exactly. Why I’m away from my home, away from the Scarlet Mansion, and Sakuya and Patchouli and everyone I’m close to. I’m not sure what inclined me to come to this strange world.” She licked her lips, gliding he tongue over her fang-like teeth while staring hungrily at Francis. “You shall do quite nicely.”
Francis kept that cocky smile. His face twitched just a bit, feeling worry and dread start to swell in him. “I know I am handsome, my love. And you yourself are gorgeous--”
“Just one bite.” She began to wring her hands, grinning more to show those teeth. Every second, every moment, they seemed to become sharper. “Don’t make this difficult.”
“Such a lovely lady like yourself should not be letting dark ideas pass through your mind--”
Remilia lunged at him, diving on top of the Frenchman and knocking him down. He grabbed onto the vampire by the back of her dress, right on her shoulder blades, pulling her down on top of him. It was a flurry of pink and red blending with grey and white, Remilia’s bright dress the only noticeable light besides the window. She was quite noticeable shorter than Francis, but pinning him down by the wrists with ease. She let go of his wrists to tear and rip at his shirt collar, trying to expose more of his neck, trying to show more flesh, as much as she could.
“M-Mon dieu!” Francis shouted, pushing Remilia back by her shoulders with little to no avail. Fear, flaring like a fire in his heart, caused his vision and mind to blur and turn into mush. Not from lust this time, surprisingly. “Madam! Please get off!”
Pulling at his tie, Remilia pulled it off - after a bit of choking Francis to rip it off - and ripped off his collar, ripping the shirt at the top, stretching the fabric until all of his neck was slowly becoming exposed. More and more flesh was filling her vision, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips hungrily at this meal promised for her. A neck, with no bite marks (Well, the girl could see scars from hickies) just waiting for her teeth to be sunk in, waiting to be bitten and torn at, knaw on, sucked on, waiting to drain it of all blood…
“C-Can you wait until we get to the bed--?!”
She couldn’t speak. The monstrous feelings had taken over. All she could see was food.
“My dear-- Th-This is useless! Help me! Help, someone!!”
Opening her mouth, Remilia went to bite down--
She was thrown off, rolling away from Francis and slamming into the wall. Another man -- no, two men -- had shoved her off. One an albino, another with green eyes and sun kissed skin. The tanned one was pulling Francis to his feet, which was, in the mean time, trying to scramble out of the room instead of being helped up.
“Francis, who is that woman?!” The albino asked, trying to hold him in place.
“G-Get an exorcist!” Francis gasped out, “Get a wooden stake! Get Holland! Get something! That woman isn’t human; s-she’s a vampire of some sorts!”
Remilia got to her knees, glaring over at the two men who had stopped her feasting. Red eyes glinted with annoyance, getting to her feet. Francis was trying to pull these other men out of the room. After staring at her for a few seconds in shock and fear, they allowed Francis to pull them out of the room, screaming at each other to get out of the way, and shouting down the hall, sending warnings to whoever else.
Remilia wiped some saliva from her lips and bounded after them.
Well, let these games begin.
---
Notes:
1. Get Holland! - Van Helsing is a vampire slayer from Holland. Remilia is a vampire.
Translations:
1. "I love your blue hair."
2. "It's so exotic."
3. "Language of love."
4. "My god!"
