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Karma's Muse	By : xXxDaydreamJunkiexXx Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 5881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do NOT own, profit, or pretend to originate True Blood or its characters. All rights belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball.

Chapter List
- 1-Karma's Muse
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 1
- 2
His chestnut hair shimmered and shined in the moonlight. The luminescent beams shyly broke through the dense foliage of the maple leafed tree directly overhead. The soft light cast shadows around the clearing, making the backdrop of his surroundings ever more harsh and foreboding. He didn't belong here and it was if the very air scorned his presence. Telling him the dead should not walk…should not feel.
The forest was alive all around him and the night pulsed, a palpable thing however unseen, but felt deep within him. Amphibians croaked from a nearby marsh, insects hummed, and birds chirped communicative songs, as they flittered from branch to branch. It stirred immense longing and a dull ache blossomed in his chest. He could only assume this to be a ghost pain of a heart, his heart, which had ceased its efforts oh so long ago.
Mounds of dirt underneath his toes were scorched with the remnants, of the small campfire he had recently extinguished. A ritual and offering to his pagan origins, truly seeking peace or maybe permission, from the ancestors of his people. He called out to them but was only met with their deafening silence. Even they had abandoned him.
He thought of what his own imparting remains or ash, if any at all, would be left of him when he finally sought the courage to end his…what? He certainly couldn't feign to describe this mockery of an existence to life could he?
Godric stood half naked to the air. Closing his blue eyes and taking in a deep labored breath. Scents invaded his nostrils of damp moss, wild flowers, and scampering animals moving around the underbrush; as if unaware death itself had paid a visit.
He dropped down to his knees with blood trails slowly coursing down his porcelain cheeks, flowing freely now from his clenched eyes, in anguish. He grabbed fistfuls of earth and shrub roots, rubbing them over his ornately decorated chest in desperation…to be cleansed somehow. A primal sound erupted all around him. Ripping from his chest painfully and marking the sorrowful sound as his own. It seemed to hush and invade this habitat, making a doe and her fawn, jump through the clearing, their silver backed tails bobbing over bushes with their leaps; finally disappearing into the pitch of the forest depths. He had never felt more broken or more alone; he slumped forward on the ground, all air having left his body.
Long ago he had lost that urge every vampire needs to survive, that survival instinct to kill. He no longer felt the superiority, the demand of his will, or even the lust of desire to consume those; who by his kind's standards were weak and unworthy. His infliction of animalistic bloodthirsty deeds, to so many victims spanning over centuries, was a taint; an evil stain marring the perfection and purity of the living world. He now found only ugliness in himself, wrongness in his existence, and regret.
Would he finally have the courage to seek redemption from the Gods he no longer had faith even existed?
The sound of a pressing weight, crunching dead leaves and snapping twigs with its procession, broke his internal lament. Godric tensed. His eyes opened with feral wildness, keen senses searching out the darkness, silently willing whoever dared disturbed him, to make themselves known.
He was crouched down on his haunches, muscles strained and flexing for battle. Growls of warning vibrated from his throat, his long sharp incisors descending over his bottom lip; his wet tongue sluggishly peeking out between them.
The final act he sought would be on his own terms only! The beast within him and the long forgotten warrior of his human life would not accept anything else. His pride was barely intact but it was still there. Two thousand years did not stretch out behind him for lack of effort or succumbing to defeat. However bereft he may be in this moment, some things never completely leave you, and he had never been a coward.
His musings played nicely in the recesses of his mind, holding civilized conversation over a cup of tea. However the forefront of his brain struggled with the ancient dance of predator and prey, chanting for carnage and the taste of blood.
His hearing picked up on voices and the loud rustling of disturbed foliage. He cocked his head to the side intent on making out their location precisely. A strangled cry of a woman pierced through the night. She was struggling against someone and begging for her life to be taken quickly. She accusingly shouted that they had promised it would be quick…did he hear that right? A loud smack followed by gasps and heaves. A man gruffly barking in a backwoods drawl "Shut the fuck up-bitch!"
He crawled forward over twenty feet in the blink of a blur, to be closer to the humans, using the trunk of a mighty oak to keep him hidden. Glancing around the deeply creviced grooves of the rough bark, he beheld two men standing over a woman-more of a girl really, and she was on her knees. Her hands and arms reaching forward at their feet while sobbing, begging for them to just do it, just kill her. From this angle he could make out the two men, looking nothing more than a couple of dirty rednecks. One was very much taller than the other and looked to be about eight months pregnant with a Budweiser baby. The orange mullet hairstyle stuck out in the woods like a flag; marking hunting season. The other was shorter by about four inches and had a scrawny frame, receding brown greasy hairline, and a hand shoved into the fly of his jeans fondling himself. The shorter man's face was sporting a leer, showing off his yellowed teeth or what remained of them anyway. Both were wearing worn jeans and t-shirts that had holes and food stains littering across. The one with the ketchup over a cartoon character of some yellow dwarf, with a speech bubble saying Don't have a cow man, kicked the young girl in the face; sending her head to snap up and back before falling without preamble into the dirt.
"Not so high 'an mighty now, are ya cunt?" Orange mullet was whistling as he laughed at her. He was obviously glorying in having all the power. His gut jiggled as he wheezed with chortled grunts, causing him to cough and hack up some phlegm. His spitball unceremoniously landed on the crown of the girl's raven colored head.
"Can we fuck her now?" Greasy gap tooth asked his partner while vigorously increasing the movement in his pants. "I'm juss 'bout ready…"
The only sound from the girl was cries of "No" and "Please…" as she turned her face to the side on the ground. Her back was convulsing with her terror and one of her ankle's he noticed was broken. Cuts and bruises covered her legs, showing rather immodestly, as her sundress was bunched up high and torn; from probably he assessed their dragging of the girl through the terrain. All with the goal of getting her to this secluded place in the deep forest for their…fun.
Godric had seen enough. It would seem he would break his fasting penance this night. Having little need to feed as being so old coupled with the guilt he harbored daily had precipitated a self-inflicted starvation. That vile synthetic substance True Blood was barely tolerable and he sighed, he would actually enjoy killing this scum; saving this young girl from their clutches. If nothing more than to find out how she had stumbled into this messy situation, and why he thought he had faintly heard, a want of death in her voice.
Humanity it would seem had its own share of monsters. Godric had seen many instances such as these over his long span, but neither of these men would have defense against the wrath of real evil personified. Before the one with the mullet could raise a foot to stomp the girl's arm, he struck.
Whirring movements flew past the men. Before either could react, he was ripping the intended leg raised over the arm of the girl, away from the fat man's body. Hot blood spurted out in streams of crimson; the femoral artery having been severed. Godric paused to drink as if from a fountain before quickly tending to the shorter man's neck, tearing it out and exposing his Adam's apple. Greasy's gurgles were barely heard over the screams of the Orange mullet's amputation. His bulking weight had set him to fall backwards, his stump raised into the air, and the blood shooting out less forcefully against gravity.
Godric ignored him as he knew death would claim it's offering soon. The scrawny one with rape in mind however…He picked the disgusting vermin up by the scruff.
Greasy was holding the front of his neck with both hands, trying in vain to slow the blood loss. Ignorance, he thought to himself briefly, before striking the man's flaccid penis hanging out of his fly with his teeth. The man forgetting his neck attempted to shriek but his voice box no longer was capable.
Godric spit out the little bit of flesh into the forest floor. He then bit savagely into his torso, his canines tearing into the skin like butter. He moaned and growled at the same time, his draws of blood deep, and his hunger ravenous. It wasn't long before the man was limp in his hold. He finished, tossing the man's body to lie on top of the bulging belly of his cohort.
With dirt covering his exposed tattooed chest, hair spiked and untamed, and blood dripping from his chin; covering his whole face like a messy child without table manners. Godric finally looked down to the girl.
Her neon green orbs were wide and her mouth was opening and closing as she craned her neck to look up at him from the moist ground. No sound other than her furiously beating heart was made by either as they silently appraised the other. He observed the swelling starting to form along her jaw line from the previous kick. He noticed how fragile and petite she was, even more so in her current position. She also like him had tattoos, but hers were covering both arms from shoulder to elbow. He was curious. She stared him down obviously afraid but unmoving.
Godric sensed the sun would be up soon and felt the intense need to see her safe before retreating to his sanctuary for the day. He kept his distance but his voice was urgent.
"I will not harm you, but I must act quickly as the sun rises soon." He said barely above a whisper, speaking rapidly. "Where can I take you for treatment of your injuries?"
She had a glazed look come over her and fainted before him, her head once again flopping forward into the dirt. He silently cursed to himself. Seeing no other alternative he gingerly approached her, scooping her carefully into his arms, finding her to weigh as much as a feather. There was no other choice. Godric surmised he would have to take her back to his nest and possibly even give her some of his blood…something of which he had never done before without creation of a child in mind.
Absentmindedly he hugged her to his chest possessively while jumping, taking off into the fading twilight. He was flying at incredible speeds, racing the dawn to his home.
He knew nothing about this girl and had no reason to care, but for some reason unknown- he did. A puzzle he hoped to solve by sunset tomorrow.
He landed gracefully in his backyard, walking across the patio and through the sliding glass doors. He ignored the startled looks of his lieutenants Stan and Isobel. No doubt they were shocked to see their usually demure and conservative sheriff so disheveled from obvious bloodshed. Godric didn't give a damn at the moment and wordlessly proceeded to his lair. He punched in the code, the air tight panel door opening up allowing entrance.
After making sure they were both secured in the room and the alarm reset, he walked into his private bath and laid his precious cargo into the large Jacuzzi tub. Her face was completely unguarded and seemed so innocent and fresh in her slumber. He marveled at her full pink lips, slightly parted, and her long raven eyelashes resting against her high cheekbones. This girl had on a white sundress-or it had been beforehand, and her full chest seemed to be the only meat on her bones. She really looked badly abused from those two blood bags. Intense fury swelled within him, and he wished he could kill them again, just for daring to hurt this fascinating creature.
He traced a finger slowly down one of her arms, admiring the artwork, the Celtic and Druid symbols fitting her somehow, but he wasn't really sure how he knew this to be true. She stirred slightly and he panicked for a moment thinking she would awake frightened. She scrunched her forehead as she shifted in the tub, a sigh of obvious pain escaped her lips, but she did not rouse from her deep sleep.
Godric's relief was short lived as he began to worry for her health and without further thought; he bit into his own wrist and brought the dripping appendage to her mouth. She unconsciously suckled, latching onto him fiercely, making him instantly strain to control himself as he found this quite erotic. He knew his blood to be very potent and too much could have unknown side effects. Deeming enough for restorative measures had been given, he pried his wrist away much to her displeasure. Her whimpering at the loss was almost his undoing. The stiff erection in his pants was becoming painful.
He was shocked. He had not had a sexual reaction to anyone in decades. Especially considering the circumstances of how he stumbled upon her, had him even more stumped with wonder. Shaking it off to be dealt with tomorrow, he willed his throbbing member down, and began at the task of cleaning her up. He did so with vampire speed, as the sun would soon rise, and he wasn't sure if he completely trusted himself with her naked for long. The large tub filled as Godric ripped the remaining shreds of the tattered dress off her, removing them from the rising water and tossing them in the trash can. He noticed her healing, his blood already taking hold, and was pleased.
He washed her with his experienced hands, using a vanilla musk shampoo he was fond of. Godric was mindful of her modesty and made every attempt not to think "those" thoughts while performing the task. He proudly succeeded and after pulling the stop and using the shower wand to rinse her, he grabbed a large terry cloth towel and wrapped her in it. After making sure she was nestled in his king sized bed and comfortable, he raced into the bathroom for his own shower.
Godric returned completely devoid of all evidence of his committed acts in the forest in under five minutes. He slipped on navy silk boxers and slipped underneath the covers next to her. The heavy goose-down quilt was like a cocoon around them. He stayed politely away from her, again respecting her, and felt his eyelids grow heavy with the death sleep.
He was surprised but in a good way, to feel her scoot backwards into him, putting them in a delicious spoon position. He felt suddenly very content and sighed deeply. His arms circled around her and he squeezed.
Godric thought it was a trick of his mind, but before he completely was gone for the day, he thought he’d heard a very softly spoken voice call out into the room…
"Thank-you…"
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Karma's Muse