Prelude; awakening.

you're so cold, keep your hand in mine...

The room was in a far away place; no animals roamed the forest of the mountain upon which it was fashioned. Nothing but fear bred in the far away place where the walls creaked and groaned with age; ancient remnants of past lives embedded in every nook and cranny. Many rooms were constructed into this once-beautiful and lively place.

Birds once came to every windowpane, singing of unadulterated love and ceaseless joy. Every bit of the house was bright with color, alight with life and sensual peace. But something so wonderfully natural and pure is also fragile, and can be torn down in an instant with little warning. This was such a case. It was ruined with such horrid tragedy that the sun hid from the sight of bloody sin and no longer shone it's blessed light on the forsaken land.

Now it was but the waxy moon that visited this dismal place with its sad eyes and cleansing pale illuminance. It was the moon that made the broken glass on the main hall floor glimmer and the old grand piano look just that – grand, despite its age. With the lack of the suns' grace, the land had become an icy wasteland. Liquid was frozen to the floor where it had been spilled once upon a time and frosty dagger-shaped icicles grew from the mantle above the large fireplace as well as many other places in the rigid estate.

Silence often blanketed this far away place. But tonight there was to be an awakening from the frost. Slow, shifty, movement was made by two thawing dark figures reaping the benefits of their long slumber. For the first time in many years the moon witnessed silhouetted forms gazing from the angular windows of the top-most room of the place, and it shivered, marking the time of dawn by sidling out of sight.

"'Tis been a long time my brother," the voice of the shorter being whispered in a long raspy tone, "I believe…we are ready…"

"Perhaps it is not in our best interest to be rash now, is it? We have but little time to make a plan, 'tis true, but we must manage with what it is we have," the other replied, just as quiet but with a hint of poison oozing over his voice.

"Sight…" the little one drawled in remembrance as he stared into the white abyss, "and the smell for blood…"


Author note: so, how was the prelude? Any interesting? Everyone likes feedback; it makes me continue this…

Oh yeah, disclaimer, we all know I don't own this stuff as much as I wish I did.