Empire of the Wolf

Remember What You're Leaving

Chloé gazed at her reflection, caressing the red mark on her arm with the tips of her fingers. How long had it been there now? Days? Weeks? No matter how much or how little time passed it never ceased to surprise her that it remained firmly imprinted on her skin. Jean-Jacques was the same, her mark glistening just beneath his high collar, a few shades paler than astermite. He had told her it matched her eyes and she'd laughed. Such a harmless statement and all it had accomplished was filling her with a significant rush of guilt, alongside some bothersome butterflies.

"Do you know what that is?"

Chloé jumped at the voice in her ear and the smile materialising between her and the mirror.

"It has been a while, my sweet." Chloé reached out to touch Her face. "You surprised me. To answer your question, all I know is Jean-Jacques gave it to me."

"Ooh," She crowed, "How bold of him! It's called a mark of possession. Vampires use them to claim what's theirs."

"What's theirs," Chloé repeated, tilting her head to look down at her arm, nail pressing into the edges of the pattern.

"Does that make you happy, Chloé?"

"... I suppose it must."

"When I say theirs I mean prey. Meant for lower beings. To leave such a thing on another vampire..." Her claws tightened on Chloé's bare shoulders insistently but without aggression. She laughed, "It's not regarded well."

"I gave him one first," Chloé asserted blithely. "Besides, what does it matter? I care little for vampire society and its rules."

"Do you want to be prey, Chloé? Do you want to be owned?"

Chloé chuckled, "I'm not sure it's as simple as that."

"It's a sweet wish, Chloé. Although..." Her hands crept up from Chloé's shoulders to grab both sides of her face, hands twisting in her hair. "He'll never own you the way I do. Silly things like marks are nothing compared to true names. You gave your life to me."

Chloé's eyes flicked across Her inscrutable features. There were times when the old terror she had long since buried would return, fear of the demon she couldn't touch that had been tormenting her so long she'd lost touch with what was real. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, forcing it to move - even to articulate herself so quietly it could barely be heard - taking immense effort.

"Jean-Jacques belongs to you also?"

"Nnnnn," the shadow hummed. "Knowing his true name I'm not so sure. His dedication is written on his very soul. Aren't you lucky?"

Chloé's heart sank. That was just unfair. If the shadow was telling the truth, and it had no reason to lie, it was too much to bear. Jean-Jacques' true name apparently bound him to her, but She had not indicated the reverse. Chloé's true name, though forever out of reach so she would never truly know it again, was completely divorced from Jean-Jacques' existence.

Something bitter diffused across her tongue. "Yes. I am... so very lucky."
..

Chloé entered the alteration device chamber, shadow hanging off her shoulders. Her hands rested over Chloé's chest, metallic claws pressing just a little too hard into her dress and the flesh beneath. Chloé stalked over to the bench in front of the organ, gently adjusting her dress beneath her legs as she sat. Without preamble she began playing the notes on the sheet music she'd been working on, cool with boredom. Every now and then she would pause to scribble some note or correction onto the sheet music. Another decade or two and she was sure she would be finished, the thought making her neither joyful nor regretful. There had always been some part of her that believed her work was impossible, she was detached from the reality where it finally came together.