[Requiem] Itzel's Morning

[dr-silverrose.livejournal.com]

And now a small bit about Itzel, my very fluffy Dracul. ^_^
---

They say it’s always the darkest just before dawn.

Itzel sits up on the window ledge, ready to tumble backwards into the room should the sun suddenly sneak up on her. The sky is dark, but slowly edging towards that pale, watery grey that precedes the dawn. She breathes in, deeply, forcing her atrophied lungs to take in air.

The view is gorgeous—the grounds, the road, the fields and trees—England’s green, definitely.

She closes her eyes and sighs, thoughtfully, thinking back to a few hours before. The smell of disinfectant and death still lingers on her clothes and her sensitive nose flares.

---
“Do you really think there’s anything for us, after we die?”

“Of course I do.”
---

She glances behind her, to where Mack lies, immobile, on the bed. Just a year ago, he was still tossing and turning, mumbling in his sleep. Poor Mack. Poor clever, funny and extremely dodgy (but still quite lovable) Mack...

She’ll tell him about what happened in the evening, but she already knows what he’ll say. She knows him better than he knows himself, sometimes. He’ll make politely interested noises unless he thinks it’s a threat, at which point he’ll be right there to defend her, which is wonderful...but he won’t understand.

She wouldn’t ask him to try, either.

---
“How can you be so sure?”

“Trust me, I know.”
---

The sky continues to lighten, the first tinges of pink drifting across the gray, cloudy expanse. She yawns; a pointless, but very human action and grins at the sight. Any moment now, she’ll have to leap away and slam the shutters shut but, for now, it’s beautiful.

---
“I don’t think I’ve got much time left—you’ll come by when its time, won’t you?”

“I’ll be there. Right ‘till the end.”
---

She can feel it, now, that dull, clawing sensation at the base of her spine—the growling in her skull.

The sun is rising.

The Beast begins to stir, panicked, wondering at her sudden desire for self-destruction. She pushes it down with her coils, making soft, soothing noises under her breath as the sky continues to lighten and birds begin singing across the countryside.

---
“I’m scared.”

“Shh, its okay, I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”
---

Too much light, too much brightness, but she watches for as long as she is able, bloody tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Eventually, though, she’s forced to step away.

Step away, though, not scramble off in panic. A small victory is still a victory, after all.

The shutters shut on the beautiful, painful light as it finally begins to break across the horizon. She sighs as the light is cut off, plunging her into safe, familiar darkness.

---
“I’m not scared anymore.”

“I’m glad.”

“Let me...let me tell you a story?”

“Sure—we’ve got all night.”
---

She pads over to the bed, pausing to brush Mack’s hair out of his eyes before sinking onto the mattress and staring up at the ceiling, waiting for deathly sleep to claim her. She closes her eyes and remembers the light and the warmth and sighs.

---
A death rattle...

The body goes still, its occupant finally free. Itzel sighs and leans over to close her eyes and shut down the monitors, dutifully recording the time of death.

The room grows brighter and warmer, then, and she looks around, confused.

--I think you were right, Itzel. There is something after this—

She starts, surprised and alarmed and then oddly touched, the feeling of a presence steadying her.

She grins and gets back to work. She’s got whole night ahead of her, after all.
---

Sleep finally descends and with it the familiar lassitude, the cessation of self but the thought remains, impossible to destroy:

‘This is not all that there is.’