I wouldn't dare own Krista or Chase (pales at the thought) or the show and I certainly don't own Shakespeare or any of his works. There is femslash in this, though nothing explicit and some moderate language (I barely notice it). I've never watched Blade: The Series (if anyone knows where I can find the episodes, PLEASE TELL ME!), so apologies if any facts (I created most of Krista's background) or characters are wrong or OOC. This started as connection I felt to a sonnet I was researching and promptly escalated out of my control. I'm very curious to know what people think, so please review (flamers can piss off now, I'm not interested).
Chase was bored.
Marcus had no jobs to send her on, she'd already eaten and there were no parties (orgies) happening for once -even the undead needed to rest every now and then.
Most of Chthon were avoiding her as well. Probably because they'd long since learned the lesson of 'A Bored Chase Is an Unpredictable and Dangerous Creature'.
Chase pouted, glaring out her window half-heartedly. There was nothing to do, no one to bother-
Chase stopped. Then a disturbingly gleeful smile crept across her face.
"Hello darling." Chase purred from Krista's bedroom doorway, leaning provocatively against the frame and stretching luxuriously so her breasts strained against the fabric of her -already dangerously tight- silk shirt.
The brunette sitting in the middle of the bed, legs loosely in front of her, while she stared intently at a small leather-bound clasped in her hands, seemingly oblivious to the outside world. Krista's perfectly toned body was -no doubt unintentionally- on display thanks to the black tank top and shorts she wearing as night attire.
It made her fangs ache.
Chase smiled as she gave a start of surprise, glancing quickly up at the intruder. With a prickling of anticipation stirring in her veins, Chase braced herself for the wave of profanity and vitriol that Krista was sure to unleash for invading her privacy. She loved baiting the fledgling vampire, feeling the hot wave of Krista's anger crash and burn into her. It gave Chase a rush that she hadn't felt for decades.
But all Krista said was: "…Oh. It's you." And it was without any of her usual animosity. Chase almost choked as she tried to recover her mental balance. Krista merely gave her an unnervingly calm look and promptly returned to her book.
Chase was flabbergasted.
Something was different about the Krista sitting on the bed. None of the coiled, desperate animal-tension was present in her demeanour and in its place was…she sniffed delicately, rolling the unfamiliar scent around her palate.
Chase's first thoughts were that; a) Krista had finally gotten laid or b) that she'd finally accepted her bloodlust and sated it. Both were disregarded almost immediately. None of the warm, musky scent of sex or the tingling, mouth-watering scent of fresh blood was on Krista or present anywhere in the room. And the woman was too much of a prude on both counts anyway.
Chase's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion and she darted forwards, moving in a white and black blur onto the bed and grabbing one of Krista's wrists before the woman could even react.
"Chase?" Krista questioned, still not showing any visible signs of anger, although puzzled bewilderment had crept into her tone. "What are you doing?"
"What have you taken." The blonde vampire demanded, ignoring the brunette's question and examining every inch of Krista's skin for an irritated area which would indicate a needle had been used. She was convinced that Krista -in a fit of self-righteous piety- had injected some heavy duty tranquilisers to numb herself to the undeniable cravings she had for blood and, of course, Chase.
"Take-?" Krista's serenity was getting really unnerving. She gave a half smile, almost but not quite a smirk. "Why Chase, I had no idea you cared." Chase blinked, replaying the last few minutes in her head again.
...What had she been thinking?!
"Marcus would have me ashed if anything happened to you." Chase snapped, angry although she couldn't have said why. "What am I supposed to think when you're acting like you've taken a whole crate of valium?"
"Valium wouldn't kill me Chase." Krista logically pointed out, sounding somewhat amused. Chase clicked her fangs together in aggravation. Krista was so…
"But it would make you even more useless than you are at present. Marcus doesn't like his women to be strung-out junkies." Chase said airily, trying to regain her usual tone of bitchy superiority which usually had the happy side effect of raising Krista's hackles. "Gives the blood a bad flavour." She added this last part with an anticipatory leer, sweeping her eyes over the slow pulse of Krista's neck and licking her lips.
If that didn't get a rise out of the ex-marine, then Chase didn't know what would.
"Thanks for the tip." Krista said, sounding disinterested as she continued to peruse the pages of her book. "I'll keep that in mind for tomorrow night."
Chase didn't know whether to kill Krista –or kiss her. Her instincts were feeling very conflicted; pulling her in two different directions. She could feel her fangs pressing painfully against her lower lip, aching for her to relieve her mounting desire. Staring again at Krista's neck, Chase began to slowly move in, intending to satisfy her hunger once and for all.
Krista was Krista. Headstrong, wilful, volatile and passionate; all things Chase -while being amused and exasperated by them in turn- was also incredibly attracted to. This new side Krista was showing however…was maddening. Chase wanted to rip aside the calmness that had invaded her spitfire with violence, blood and hot fucking. It was wrong -like a dog with two heads was wrong- for all the fire inside Krista to be sealed away from the world, to be sealed away from her. Chase was going to-
"Did you know that when I was a kid, I got into fights almost every day at school?" Krista remarked with a suddenness that jarred Chase out of her lust-fogged state and sit back on her legs, frowning.
"No." Despite not being the slightest bit interested in the other woman's ramblings, Chase tried to figure out where the apparent non sequitur and the strange to desire to talk about herself came from. It wasn't like Krista had ever volunteered information about herself before.
"I had a very short fuse. It took very little to set me off back then." Krista sounded very far away and Chase noticed she'd stopped reading that damn book. For the first time, Chase wondered what was in it that was so fascinating that it enabled Krista to remain immune to an incredibly sexy vampire in her bed. "My mom was at her wits end. School was threatening to kick me out and I was coming home with all kinds of cuts and bruises."
Chase found her usual indifference to anything that didn't have a direct benefit for herself melt away and a smile almost crossed her lips at the thought of a young Krista glowering stoically as her scrapes were tended.
"Finally, after a lot of ineffective punishments-"
Chase snorted. Oh she believed that.
"-she hit upon the idea that I didn't have a suitable father figure and that was causing me to act out." A genuine smile crossed the brunette's face; softening the usually harsh lines and making her look unbelievably sexy to Chase. "I'm not sure she was on the money with that explanation, but her solution was surprisingly effective." Krista ran a gentle finger over the leather spine of the book. "She asked Father Sullivan, the priest at our church, to mentor me. I railed and rebelled for months, but nothing I did made a difference. I couldn't frighten him away and he was bigger and stronger, so I couldn't exactly hurt him. Slowly, I came to trust him and listened to his -thankfully non biblical- tales, usually about his childhood. He admitted he'd once had the same problem of keeping his temper, like I did. When I asked how he'd controlled it, he showed me this." Krista caressed the spine of the book again, this time as though it was her lover. Chase thought it was ridiculous to feel so jealous of an inanimate object, but couldn't seem to stop herself. "Have you read Shakespeare?" Krista asked suddenly and Chase blinked, not expecting the question or following it's relevence.
"Over the decades I've seen most of his plays." Chase said defensively, not really wanting to admit that Krista had the upper hand, even if it was in such an insignificant area like reading.
"Well, I'm not talking about his plays. People often forget Shakespeare also wrote a huge amount of poetry. Sonnets, actually."
Chase flashed on a mental picture of a completely naked Krista wrapped around her body, whispering the timeless words of another era. Her slow beating immortal heart picked up the pace for a moment, making her feel breathless and excited.
"He used to read a single sonnet to me every time I went to see him," The sound of Krista's voice snapped Chase out of her worryingly emotional reverie. "and then we'd talk about what I thought it meant. It always amazed me how so many thoughts, feelings or ideas could be contained within such short verses. It happened slowly but, each day I felt a little less tense; more clearheaded. The fights I got in became less and less frequent, until I'd completely stopped. It was only one day I looked in the mirror and realised that the person looking back had grown up."
"Does this meandering walk down memory lane have a point, or am I witnessing the death throes of an unstable mind?" Chase asked in her most obnoxious voice, stretching out cat-like on the bed and propping her head on a raised hand. She was both disappointed and strangely relieved when Krista didn't appear to take offence.
"Yeah it does." Was all she said before continuing. "I had grown to love poetry. It filled my mind with peace and tranquillity and when nothing else could, it stopped me losing my temper. When I left for my first tour of duty, I saw Father Sullivan for one last time. He was upset that I was 'burying my artistic soul' as he put it, to go off and kill things. He asked if I still had enough anger inside me to make me do such a thing. I told him that wasn't the reason, poetry was. It filled me with hope that there could be a brighter world, but to help that dream happen, I would have to fight for it."
Chase rolled her eyes and sighed loudly in amused exasperation. Only Krista could be that naïve. Apparently she hadn't grown up that much since. Slowly, she slid along the bed until her body was resting lightly against Krista's. The woman didn't seem to notice or object. A quickly hidden devious smirk crossed Chase's angelic face.
"I'm not sure he understood the fighting part, but he was trying to save the world in his own way as well. And he loved poetry as much as I did. He gave me this book."
Krista smiled down at it as if it were her firstborn, oblivious to all else. Chase pressed fully against the lanky brunette, unobtrusively inhaling her intoxicating scent.
"It was so small, I could carry it with me everywhere and when the heat of battle got too much, I'd take it out afterwards and read a sonnet from it. I was still hot-headed and rash, but this book would always return an edge of sanity back to me."
Chase made a mental note: if she ever needed something from Krista (mmm, the possibilities), hiding this little baby would ensure her co-operation.
"The years passed and I got more and more used to combat and didn't need to rely on it as much, but it still could comfort me."
A hard edge entered Krista's voice for the first time, making Chase glance up from where she'd slipped her arm around the woman's middle, thinking it was directed at her. "Then my brother was murdered. I forgot about my poetry and all the lessons it had taught me; all I wanted -all I thought and dreamt about- was whoever had killed him's head."
Chase shivered in delight at the rage boiling beneath the surface of the newborn's words; it was invigorating to feel that danger back in Krista's tone. "I left my book behind, like everything else and-well, you know what happened afterwards." Eyes completive, Krista examined her room. "I hate it here." She remarked, the rage vanishing and leaving behind a sadness that bothered Chase more she liked. "It makes me forget. Who I was. Who I am. Who I want to be."
Chase opened her mouth to explain -for the thousandth time- that Krista was not and would never be that person again. That she was better. More powerful. A huntress amongst sheep.
"So I went back for it. And I feel better than I have for weeks, Chase." Chase frowned. There was something she felt she was missing, something important. But she couldn't think what it was. "I finally remembered one of my most important lessons. I'm ashamed I ever forgot it, really." The feeling of unease grew stronger. It wasn't like Krista to play the cryptic. "You've lost what chance you had…I'm never going to kill for blood. I'll never feed from a human either. And I'll always remember exactly who I am and what the rest of you are."
Chase had had enough of Krista's self-righteous holier-than-thou superiority. "You stupid bitch! What the bloody hell do you think you're talking about?! This isn't a trial-membership you can decide not to renew if you don't like the club and then expect everything to go back the way it was! You can't change the facts, Krista. " Following an unnamed emotion she didn't like to analyse, Chase ignored the rest of the newborn's words. Words which would get her killed if Krista voiced them with anyone else apart from her. "And the facts are that you're a blood-sucking, sunlight hating, bona-fide vampire!" She had the unpleasant feeling they were both on the edge of something that would irrevocably tear things apart and she had no idea how to stop it. Krista wasn't behaving in a way that Chase was familiar with or understood. It scared her.
Krista shook her head. "I'm never going to be the monster you and Marcus want, Chase." The elder vampire ground her teeth together and swore colourfully in several languages. Krista was being deliberately obtuse. There was no cure for being a vampire. If there was, Blade would've undoubtedly exploited it to his advantage years ago and whole of the vampire race would be drowning their sorrows in whiskey, not blood.
"You're delusional." Krista didn't argue, just shook her head again, like it was Chase with the problem, not her and shifted more comfortably on the bed, noticing -perhaps for the first time- their rather intimate position. "Comfy, lover?" Chase purred, nudging the knee which had been insinuated between Krista's legs without her noticing, even higher. Krista blinked rapidly and Chase shuddered with delight as a rush of fear, mixed with arousal washed off the brunette in waves.
So much for Krista's 'calm resolve'.
Chase gave an evil smirk, before assuming an expression of utmost innocence that completely failed to convince, as she'd probably never been innocent a day in her unlife. "I hope I'm not making you feel…put upon…" She murmured, sensuously rubbing against Krista as the woman gave her best impression of a deer-in-headlights. Now Chase was back on familiar territory, she felt safer; like whatever the danger lurking earlier had been avoided. She smoothly straddled Krista's waist, smirking down at the pinned woman in triumph and placed both palms either side of the woman's head, leaning slowly forwards until their lips were almost touching. "I think someone needs to be reminded of their place." Chase purred; their breath mingling as their eyes finally met, burning into one another with fierce intensity. Krista drew a somewhat ragged breath -forgetting that her body no longer needed to do so- and something flicked in her deep brown eyes, like she was trying to summon her will to fight Chase off. Chase half hoped she would. It was just like the newborn to do things the hard way. It was an oddly endearing habit, that made the game that much more interesting, since Chase was confident of her success. Krista's tongue darted out and swiped her lips in a gesture of nervousness and desire that made Chase's groin clench painfully as she followed it.
"W-wait," Krista cleared her throat. "I-I want to read you something." Chase grinned cockily, exulting in the power she held over the helpless woman and decided she could be magnanimous in her victory. She privately told herself that she was NOT imagining the scene from earlier and hoping it would be repeated, this time in reality.
"I love it when people talk dirty to me…" She teased, leaning over Krista (deliberately brushing her breasts against the woman's cheek as she did so) and retrieving the book from its place on the nightstand.
"Aren't you going to let me sit up?" Krista managed, her face blushed with a hint of pink that, for vampires, represented acute arousal or embarrassment. Chase was willing to bet it was a bit of each and was absurdly proud of the fact.
"Hmm…" Chase pretended to ponder the question, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her pale cheek for emphasis. "No." And demonstrated her resolve by firmly pushing against Krista's hips with her groin, keeping her pinned.
"Okay! Fine!" Krista agreed breathlessly, eyes wide and dilated as she tried to keep her body from responding. Chase could smell her arousal though and smirked like a cat that had just found a cat-flap into a very large dairy. Krista attempted to ignore it and carefully took her poetry book back, finding almost instantly the page she was apparently looking for. Chase found herself melting at the intense look Krista gave the page as she scanned it and gracefully laid her body atop the brunette's, nestling her face near the exposed throat as it bobbed up and down in nervous reflex.
Chase gave a purr of contentment and nipped the soft neck with her fangs. Krista yelped in shock, almost dropping the book on Chase's head. "Well? Are you going get on with it so we can move onto-" her voice dropped an octave as she swiped a lazy tongue over the sensitive flesh, "more pleasurable activities?" Krista gave a start as if she'd forgotten why she'd asked for the book in the first place and then cleared her throat. Chase watched the maze of blue veins throbbing beneath the surface of the woman's neck and smiled.
Krista's voice was low and hypnotic, resonating with a strange power that didn't usually contain, Chase was fascinated by it, before she remembered that there were actual words being spoken which she was supposed to be listening to.
"They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,"
Chase stiffened as the sense of danger returned full force, this time with klaxons and wailing sirens. The words echoed ominously around the Spartan room. She wanted to tell Krista to shut up, to clamp a hand over the woman's mouth to silence her or knock her out, but found she couldn't so much as move a muscle, frozen in place as she was by the passion and strength of belief behind the words.
"They rightly do inherit heaven's graces
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence."
One of Krista's free hands was lightly petting the blond strands of Chase's hair in a soothing gesture and with a feeling of horror, Chase realised she was trembling, while the heartbeat beneath her remained slow and steady. This could not be happening. She can't...
"The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:"
Krista's voice hesitated, as if uncertain whether or not to finish the sonnet. Chase silently begged her not to. Maybe if she stopped now things could stay as they were, nothing changed or altered...Her hope was in vain as Krista spoke more quietly, just above a whisper. Each word cut deeply into Chase's heart, as though coated in silver.
"For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."
Chase felt something warm and wet burn her eyes and she tore herself away from the tepid body beneath her before anything could escape.
She was Chase: bad-ass bitch queen from hell and she did not cry.
"Do you understand now?" Krista asked softly from behind her, the damnable calmness back in her voice, but even worse to Chase's ears; a hint of sympathy lurked within it. "Why I am never going to be like you?"
Why I can never be with you.
The words hung unspoken between them, all the more painful for their silent absence.
"What it that piece of shit called?" Snapped Chase, willing the bloody tears to not leak as she avoided the other woman's questions. Thankfully Krista was only a baby vampire who couldn't smell an open wound, even if her nose was rubbed in it.
"Shakespeare didn't name his sonnets…he gave them numbers." Before Chase could comment on the glaring idiocy of doing such a thing, Krista added. "This is Sonnet 94."
Chase felt the change in the air between them, the passion that had previously charged it was gone, left in its place, like an ungainly changeling child, was awkwardness. Krista didn't say anything else, didn't laugh or mock Chase while she regained her scattered dignity and Chase realised that, that was part of what drew her to the woman. It was because of her ridiculous morals and laughable resolves. They made her a better person; someone who was free from the everyday mucks and mires that haunted most vampires' existences. Seeing Krista made her long for the purity of her old life and perversely drove Chase to sully it so it would not taunt her any longer.
Chase found it incredibly ironic that the traits she was so drawn to were the very ones that would eternally keep her from claiming what she desired. The death of a dream, something she'd been hoping -no, expecting- to happen since the first time she'd laid eyes on the other woman. All gone, thanks to one sodding little poem.
"Chase?" Krista asked tentatively, "Are yo-?"
"If you even dare finish that question you embarrassing excuse for a newborn, I'll bleed you dry -Marcus be damned!" She snarled. Meaning it. Krista took the advice and remained silent. Chase slowly pulled herself together, furtively wiping her eyes and assuming her usual expression of seductive playfulness. It had never felt so much like a brittle mask.
"Well, as always, this has been stimulating, Krista." She purred, tossing a sultry glance over her shoulder at the brunette who had clasped her arms around her knees and was resting her chin on the gap between them. Chase ruthlessly repressed the voice that whispered it'd never seen anything more adorable. "But, alas, I must take my leave. There's only so much pathetic, mewling, jarhead philosophy and hackneyed ditties I can handle before wanting to disembowel someone." Her eyes narrowed fractionally at the brief clench she thought saw tighten Krista's jaw. Good. Let the sanctimonious bitch hurt. She thought viciously.
"Chase, it's not been a pleasure." The newborn returned laconically, falling back into their usual pattern of hurtful banter. "As usual."
It was comforting, in a very bizarre way.
Chase blew a kiss at the other vampire -which was stoically ignored- and she laughed loudly as she breezed out of the room.
Back in the sanctuary of her own rooms, Chase broke down and cried in a way that she hadn't since she'd been a newborn herself.
She cried for losing her chance with Krista.
She cried for losing her own purity so long ago.
And she cried because, despite everything, she didn't want it back.