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A Vampire Knight Fan Fiction…
Bloody Wings and Fangs
Last of the Mors Family
As hard as it is to believe, there are more purebloods than the Kurans, not many, but yes, there are more. There's just one pureblood family in particular that's the rarest vampires of all, one's with wings. These wings vary, large or small, bone-made or bat hide, there are multiple wings in the one and only Mors family. Is Mors a ridiculous name? No, because it's someone's name and a name may not to be tampered with. A name is a person's identity, the start of a million ways to know one-self. If someone didn't have a name, they wouldn't feel at all complete, right? They wouldn't know themselves completely, and there would be a single hole of darkness resembling that one unknown piece of information. So, no, Mors is not a ridiculous name. In fact, to the remainder of the Mors, that one and single name is everything, and she clings to that.
I didn't say 'they' now did I? Well, it's not a typo or an error. There's one left of the Mors's, and it is a she. Not one who can spread the name further down, only a she, who can give birth for another family. She, this one girl, is the last pureblood of the Mors. The name of this single girl is Satomi, or 'beautiful and wise'. She was named 'beautiful and wise' for a reason, and not one reason alone. Satomi is a fifteen-year-old more or so the height of an eighteen-year-old female. A silver bob of hair encases her heart-shaped head with glittering milk chocolate eyes resembling glass. Her skin is, of course, vampire pale, but the odd thing about her is that it is lighter than a normal vampire's, like she's about to break right then and there.
Today her nails were painted black, three rings on the three left fingers, index, ring, and middle. A black choker with a dangling silver cross on three metal links is wrapped around her thin neck. A long sleeved, sky-blue shirt with a V-neck has a low unfolded collar and string tying in shoelace patterns on the sleeves with thin bows at the elbow crooks is tight around the waist, although even if it's tight it still barely touches her skin. A gray ruffled skirt with no belt reaches down to above the mid-thigh, where bandages are wrapped tenderly around the left thigh muscle. There's also a bandage over her right eye, tucked under the silver hair bob with a tiny black top-hat with a red rose and white ribbon hanging off to the left.
People would think that she would try to keep herself safe, but the only thought she carries is 'what the heck'. All her family is gone, so she thinks that life is just a mere torment. Her older sister, her younger brother, the newborn boy and girl twins, her parents, all of them are dead. The only one she has left is a loyal servant who merely looks her age, but is really as old as her older sister, who's been living for at least five decades before her untimely death of murder. This black bobbed, pale, red eyed male is called Isis. Today he has all black; a long drench coat lined with buttons slightly a lighter shade to them, a ruffled shirt without a collar and long sleeves, formal pants, and buckled knee-boots for protection purposes. He's not a father to her, nor a guardian, more like Satomi's best friend, the only one in the world.
The two, oh so alone, are now debating what to do, since the mother, the second to last of the Mors's, died only yesterday. Satomi is listening to Isis drone on about how she needed to get far away to a place nobody would expect, to a place only her and he would be familiar with, but there is no such place. Satomi looks around, her hands clutched on the edge of a tombstone, and spots a town through the cemetery gates, having gone through a secret passage from her garden to this. She stares down at the grass and pushes off, taking Isis's hand and dragging him past the black, Gothic gates that probably were there for centuries on end. Isis doesn't say another word, because he to, is also alone in this world. Without a family, and the last of his name, the only thing he doesn't understand about Satomi's pain is that he can pass the name down, she cannot.
The bleak town is under the mercy of a cool fall breeze, brought to you by October 16, 2011. Most of the walls are beige, a blank color, and the windows' panes are mostly brown, a warm, soft color practically the only thing catching Satomi's attention. The scent of a Level D prickles in her nostrils, so she freezes in mid-step and moves only her eyes to the far right. There, she sees an alley, a man walking out with pale skin deeper than her own shade and blonde shoulder hair, casual walking clothes loose around the brood form and green eyes with a lustful red spark. This Level D, a former human, spots Satomi, and the bad thing is, Satomi means 'beautiful and wise'. She was named that for a reason. Isis steps behind her in a protective pose, seeing the front is away from the Level D. Satomi turns completely, the bandage being the final key-point of this Level D's attack. She pushes Isis away and her left shoulder is clawed to a horrible extent where the bone is prodding out. She doesn't wince, but her sad expression remains like it was, as if it's glued there by the immense sorrow.
The Level D licks the fresh blood off his fingers in delight, making his time of a Level E delay. Pureblood blood can stop the changing from a Level D to an E to an extent and time, depending on the blood. For the Mors Family, it depends where. If taken from the shoulder, probably a week. If taken from the wings, that of which Satomi is hiding under her shirt, probably a old man's life time from birth to natural end, human wise that is. Satomi knows this, and this is why she prefers to hide her small, gray wings no larger than a spiral notebook of 10.5x8in. The Level D, for one, does not know about these wings, nor does he choose to delay his time from becoming a beast in human form.
"Your blood is divine," he purrs in a rough voice of a twenty-year-old. "May I take some from your neck?"
Satomi stands there, her expression unchanging and Isis knocked out from colliding with a wall at the force of a Pureblood's push, in which she used to save him from loosing probably half his arm, seeing that half would be the upper, it would mean the entire arm. The Level D charges, but something happens; the cretin is sliced in half with one perfect cut. Satomi looks up from the dirt and walk blankly to see a blonde, in which some spilt blood reveals him to be a Level B. His eyes are big and green, the pale skin matching the Level D's. A russet head is behind him with bored, sky-blue eyes, the skin also the same like most vampires, save Satomi. The blonde Level B seethes a sword, a katana in Satomi's head, and smiles at her with unknown kindness she only got from her family and Isis, now awaking barely.
"Hello, who are you?" he asks politely.
"She…is Lady Mors," Isis answers in mumble tone, pushing his torso up with a slight grunt. "She is the last of the Mors Family."
"Mors," the blonde repeats. "That's a pureblood family." Satomi nods while the ribbon on her little hat bobs back and forth. "Well," he bows, "it's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lady Mors. I am Takama Ichijo."
Satomi, not forgetting her manners, bows as well and mouthing a thank you without a single smile playing on her transparent lips. She straightens up again while Isis regains his footing, dusting off his pants in the process. Takama also straightens, the same kind smile now turning over to the wounded shoulder and bandages over her eye and thigh. Satomi moved several strands in front of the bandages for the eye and rested her other hand on the thigh in hopes it would cover it up, but with the two hands, she cannot cover up the bloody shoulder. Isis notices Takama's eyes, so he clears his throat to gather both Level B vampires their attention.
"Now that we've met and all, do you know where Lady Mors can get those injuries tended to?" he snaps, rather pinkish in the face.
The russet haired Level B sighs being rather bored with all of this. "There's an infirmary at school, right Takama?"
"Right Shiki," Takama nods at his friend. "Would you care to come with us?"
Isis glances over at Satomi with the miniscule hopes of an actual answer. To his great surprise, she gave one curt nod and started following the two, even though they were merely Level B vampires to him. He shouldn't be talking to put it straight. He is a Level C vampire who only got to serve Satomi out of the mere fact a friend, a Level B to put it, was serving her older sister, Uteri Mors. As for Satomi, she sensed a hint of pureblood on these two, meaning they were serving one themselves. To talk to another pureblood creates some light in that darkness people are now forced to call her heart, her mind, and her soul, but it didn't scare it all away. Yes, that darkness is sorrow, sorrow and loneliness and shame, the shame being that she felt so alone even with her childhood friend right next to her all the time, save when she requested him not to follow.
So, this story waits for the four to make it to the school of these vampires, a school, not known to Isis or Satomi yet, called Cross Academy, a private school with two classes: Night and Day. The Night Class, to their advantage, being entirely made out of vampires.
Now this story continues after their trip of ten minutes, Takama taking two minutes out of that to do the small errand he was sent to do in the first place. Satomi's bleeding finally stopped, the wound beginning to close, but now it freezes in place, where some of the bone is still visible, but not much. The gates open at their arrival, and a handsome teenager about seventeen at the least walks up to greet them, or at least Shiki and Takama. His gray shirt is loose and slightly baggy, probably from sleeping in it out of what Satomi gathers. Kakis are also loose around his lower body, but not baggy like the shirt. His deep brown shoulder hair is ruffled up slightly, slightly confirming Satomi's silent accusations, and that brown matches the tired eyes, apparently not as tired as to become bloodshot. As pale as the others in front of her, Satomi sniffs the air lightly to pick up a strong scent of a Pureblood coming from him.
"Ichijo, who are these people?" the other Pureblood wonders with a peaceful grin.
Ichijo or Takama takes a side-step to show Satomi a bit better. "This is Lady Mors, that pureblood family that-"
"Became extinct," the Pureblood finishes. "I'm sorry, but I doubt that's the truth."
Isis's face grew pinker than before, the tip of his ears pure crimson out of annoyance and anger clashing within him. Satomi pats his left shoulder with her right hand, one of those limbs on her body still in full contact. Isis made one small glance as her pale fingers rested on his black coat, but that wasn't enough to stop his pride in a ways. "Are you saying Lady Mors is a liar?" he growls, his mouth shut soon after he said those very words.
Satomi drops her hand to her side, her shoulder slightly closing once again, and this time successfully hiding the bone. She takes one step back and the stair crumbles beneath her black Mary-Jane, despite it was made of stone. To save herself from getting head bandages, she forced her wings to unfold and come out of handmade slits in the back of her shirt, the gray, devil hide wings batting with all their might until she replaced the air behind her with her left foot, no matter how much the thigh that belonged to the same leg as the foot protested. The wings rapidly refolded, being no bigger than a spiral notebook like mentioned meaning they weren't typically meant for flying or balance purposes. That purpose of which they are meant for is still void from Satomi's mind, but like she minds.
The wings were enough to prove her heritage fortunately. "Wings, so you are a Mors." Satomi turns only her head slightly, the rest of her body frozen in place. "Where did you get your wounds?"
Satomi nods at Isis to answer for her, seeing she can't bring herself to speak at the moment. "A Level D caused her the shoulder, and the others are purely classified."
"Why?" the Pureblood demands.
Satomi gathers that harming a Pureblood is not a good thing to do. To protect Isis from explaining, she opened her mouth to reveal perfect teeth, the fangs sparkling with perfection as well. "I-I rather-r not t-talk about it-t," she stutters in a soft, gentle, shy voice like lace and practically a whisper, even though that's on no level her whispering.
The Pureblood nods. "I understand, Lady Mors."
"P-please," she shuts her eyes to try and find some courage, as hopeless as that is to her, "c-c-call me-e S-S-Satomi…"
The Pureblood nods and walks forward, placing a hand on the right shoulder blade and leading her up the outside stairs and through the gates, silent Takama, Shiki, and Isis all following in their footsteps. The choker somehow feels tighter around Satomi's neck, but she doesn't dare fuss with it, for chances are it might only make it worse. She notices the students are mostly human at this point, but again she doesn't know about the two classes; and the fact the Day Class girls are a bunch of psycho maniacs. Satomi stares at the ground, the feeling of all those Day Class girls staring at her with jealous and violent sparks making the hairs on her neck stand. As people may guess on first acquaintance with her, she is shy and different from other Purebloods. She is not evil, but she is good. She doesn't drink a human's blood or blood tablets, but she drinks her own blood or an animal's blood. She's not pale, she's white. She doesn't make everything a game of chess, but she makes everything around her normal. She isn't light, she isn't darkness, but she is the abstract transparency, the transparency that shows a person for who they are, the soul revealer. She doesn't know any of her powers, but she has wings for a purpose she doesn't know.
All of those things are what she's proud of. There's a reason she isn't a psycho like Level E's or Day Class girls, and that's because the darkness is deep in her, and the only thing causing that darkness is the sorrow of her family's loss, the pure want of seeing them again. Want is a powerful thing, and one must not want too much. She wants with all her heart to have her family back, but imagine the tale of Rumpelstiltskin. What would happen if she wished her family back? That she could be with them again? Well, there are multiple things that could happen, dear reader, all of which she considers every time she prays at night. One could be they would return zombies and eat her brains out, this of which she usually thinks about after watching a horror movie. Another could be that she dies to join them, that of which seems appealing to her, but would they want her dead? No, they would not want her dead. A last one would be that they would in fact return, but they'd only die again soon after. As the deaths continued, this want grew, but at the last death it was clear that she had to live, that she has to live for her family's sake, even if they're dead.
Someone pokes her cheek, so she lightly shakes her head to stare at Isis, his hand waving in front of her face and pointing to a door before her. A smiling blonde man waves her in, so she takes a slight glance at the Pureblood next to her and walks in, the Mary-Jane shoes producing a irritating clop, clop, clip clop, clop, clop, clip clop. The door closes behind the last person in, making her jump slightly. Isis pats her right shoulder and she shuffles in a small circle to observe her surroundings. She's in a small office, that of which she never knew she even got into a building. There's a dark desk clumsily repaired and, out of habit, she examines it thoroughly. Isis stands next to her, knowing full well she was one for building, destroying, and repairing. The blonde man sits in the chair behind the desk and chuckles softly once he gets that she's staring at the desk.
"Don't worry about that," he smiles. "Someone just lost their temper is all."
Satomi gives one curt nod to the desk and steps back, but is stopped by the Pureblood and he sets her down in a stool in front of the desk, making her feel slightly naïve. Isis sits on the ground next to her, but she doesn't comment on how he should sit in the stool instead and good stuff like that. She just sits there, blinking up at the blonde, smiling man. That's when one of the worst things that can happen to her occurs; her wings start to get itchy. She holds her breath lightly, not making those big puffy cheeks to show it, and once her face goes purple, someone bothers to tell her that she should stop, and she turns with strain to see it is Shiki. She nods and breathes through her nose, then opens her mouth to get a bigger dose.
"So, Lady Mors," the blonde man starts. Once she shrinks slightly, he looks up to the Pureblood and he mouths something that Satomi doesn't see. "Satomi," the blonde man restarts, the Pureblood in mention looking up, "how would you feel if you were to stay here at Cross Academy?"
"Y-You mean here?" she whispers, which that's the problem. Once she whispers, it's mouthing, and when she mouths something, her lips barely move.
Fortunately, the blonde man having an adopted daughter and a 'adopted son', he understands the nervousness. Isis pats her right shoulder and Satomi gives one curt nod, as always. Any different would make you assume she was an imposter. That's when the whole room can hear arguing in the hallway.
"I'M TELLING YOU YUKI YOU'RE USELESS!"
"SAYS THE COCKY JERK WHO'S ALWAYS LATE!"
Satomi, tearing her gaze from the door, looks up with moist eyes at the blonde man, who chuckles nervously. "Yes, um…I guess you're about to meet my adopted children…"
The door swings open and smacks Takama in the face, the door revealing two red-faced Day Class students, one a fifteen-year-old girl with a uniform of navy, white, and red, a brown bob of hair identical to the Pureblood's and human colored skin, the eyes dark chocolate with a slight mix of hazel, the other a silver-haired…seventeen-year-old? The male has silver-iliac eyes, his skin pale at the normal vampire level and his uniform the same colors, save the fact that the female had a bow, not a tie, and the male had pants, not a skirt. The red faces were exchanged for slightly ashamed, confused expressions, mostly directed at Satomi and Isis, in which Satomi stood and bowed, like all should when one enters. Isis tugs her sleeve and she looks over to see him mouth two words, or one word and a letter: 'Level E'.