If Vincent could weep he would be doing so, but these days tears where nothing more than a forced bodily reaction he used to pretend to be human.
Her Lady’s had washed her, changed her and cleaned her up as best as they could considering the charred flesh that didn’t heal. For all intents and purposes a torpered Vampire resembled a dead human corpse and so much of this felt like he was saying goodbye.
Torper was a sleeping state vampires entered, when seriously injured or when they chose to sleep though a decade or two. Unlike Vampires who chose to enter this state Siren had been forced into it when Hector had drained the last of her blood and while Vincent was glad he was able to prevent him from taking the next step and draining her soul, he still felt he’d somehow failed her.
How long she would remain sleeping was anyone’s guess and that’s what made Vincent so frustrated. Vampires could be woken in one easy step, you simply had to feed them a few drops of blood from a kindred closer to Caine.
If it had been Hector, Arabella or any of the others, Siren would have used her own blood to revive them quickly and painlessly but as the eldest they did not possess any blood more potent than hers and as such she’d remain in the sleeping state until her body and mind where ready to awaken.
Leaving Vampires to awaken naturally was sometimes a game of chance, sometimes they woke in days or weeks sometimes it took a thousand years. The length of time it took varied from kindred to kindred based souly on their remaining humanity.
It was a known fact that as a vampire aged they became more disconnected from the human population. The more they saw, the more they did. The less ‘human’ they became. Vincent chuckled Siren used to joke that if he was ever to enter Torper he’d pop right back up again, even before she had time to slit her wrist to feed him.
It was more than simple connecting with humans, each time a vampire gave into the rage of the blood it took them one step further away from being human. It was why older Kindred like Siren rarely had much in the way of humanity left. As far as Vincent was concerned though Siren was so unlike other Ancients he’d met over the years, most had given into the blood century’s before revelling in torturer and reigning over humans like the monsters they truly where.
While he had no Illusions that she was as compassionate as he, she did indeed still seem to try and fight the evil burning within her. That was why he loved her so much and while he did not doubt she would wake quicker than others her age, it still could take a century or two.
He’d insisted that he be allowed put her to rest alone. As he lowered her into the metal cage that would hold her till she woke, he felt an immense sadness. He loved her and he would miss her It wasn’t romantic love, there relationship had never been physical. She was like the mother he’d never had. He remembered the day he met her, back then he thought he could never be happy again.
He was 18 when he was turned, some would say with his whole life in-front of him, the lord of this very castle. The home he’d been raised in by his father. However it was a sad time for him, his father had died a year earlier leaving him everything and he’d just lost his young wife and only child to the sickening and every day he had prayed to be taken with them. As a god fearing man he’d not seen fit to take his own life and instead, spiralled dangerously making enemy’s where ever he could find them hoping one on them would do what he could not.
Siren had taught him to smile again, to laugh and to love life.. finally when she’d offered to turn him he’d eagerly accepted. Siren however had not always been a gracious lady, back then her often crude ways showed her to be less than nobility. Still she tried hard to shake her past and he believed, he was the only she’d ever confided in about her beginning.
She’d been a vampiric accident, a meal gone wrong nothing more than a common whore. Even in life Siren had been a feisty one it seemed. When a kindred came to make her dinner she’d fought, bitten an scratched drawing blood from the kindred who tried to feed from her. Meaning she hadn’t died, well at least she hadn’t stayed dead.
The ruling vampire of the area had forced her sire to keep her, to teach her what it was to be kindred but the relationship had not been a happy one. Her sire a Toreador artist thought her unworthy of Toreador blood and despised her and it could be said that her first century of kindred life was an unhappy one.
Deep in the basement of the castle, Vincent lifted the stone paving stone which covered a metal grate covered in runes. Unscrewing it he lifted the lid with a heavy heart, revealing a long vertical tube which would house the metal cage in-which she slept.
The contraption as whole had been specially designed for this job, it was magically warded to prevent detection and would keep the kindred safe and hidden, until it was time for them to wake. Thought to many it would seem like a prison but Vincent knew if Siren woke she would not struggle to free herself.
When she woke, she’d been hungry… vampires waking from torper where little more than frenzied beasts, It was why this method was chosen to keep her. The metal cage would hold her prisoner preventing accidental deaths and Vincent knew though she’d probably spend some time feebly struggling against her binds.
However cage it’s self also held six small magical vial’s containing blood, Vincent had filled them himself, with his own. He knew that it had been more than a century since Siren had drank anything human. That was another sign of age, human blood no-longer quenched her thirst. He’d chosen his so it would be familiar as he was her primary vassal.
She’d eventually find the vials and drink. Once the thirst was abated she’d have the blood and strength to break the bind and dig herself out of the rock.
Kissing her gently on the forehead he lowered the cage into it’s holding tube, “Goodbye my love, Till we meet again” he whispered, screwing down the grate and replacing the paving stone.
He sat for what seemed like an age, in the cold and dark…. he felt so lost… angry, frustrated and sad but most of all he just felt lost.
He’d never truly ruled this castle, not as a human nor as a kindred He’d only been lord of the manor for a scant few months after his father death, before Siren arrive and he wasn’t sure he knew how to rule the estates and keep the other Kindred in line.
He knew Siren’s plan’s of course her intentions to gain the trust of the crown integrate themselves into Grimstead nobility. Meanwhile keeping an eye out for the hunters they knew would be coming and somehow seek out the Ravno’s which would lead them to the kindred that saved Risa from the gallows.
Not to mention the werewolves… he shuddered at the thought, he’d heard at least six howl’s the other night it could only mean one thing, Lar’s had backup and without Siren and Hector, he held no illusions that he could take on Lar’s alone, never mind more of his kind.
He was immortal yes, but in one single night he’d also been but into a very tentative and vulnerable position and if the werewolves came for him, he would lose.