Raindrops | By : soultoast Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Drusilla > Angel(us)/Drusilla Views: 1009 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Author: soultoast
Rating: R for violence.
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own these characters. They all belong to Joss Whedon and his crew.
Summary: Drusilla plays in the rain.
Feedback: Yes please!
Angelus had broken Drusilla, hurting her until that fragile mind shattered like stained glass. He had chosen his childe based on her abilities, but his pursuit had created a monstrous child. Inside her broken mind, the cruel need of her demon found a home. Her mind was like a vampire’s, viewing life not through sin and grace and right and wrong, but with need and want. Drusilla feasted with the avarice of a hungry child, ignorant of the mess she often made. She combined the sweet innocence of a human child with the murderous hunger of a vampire childe. And like a human child, Drusilla played games while eating.
Sometimes, Drusilla liked to chew her dinner, not drink it. Carefully, she would select the desired muscle and rip it from her victim, humming along gaily with their screams. Tearing the muscle into bite-sized pieces, she would chew on it like an orange slice, spitting out the fibrous tissue once the juice was gone. For Drusilla, there was something comforting in chewing, in tearing the tissue with her teeth. But her favorite game was raindrops.
At first Angelus hadn’t been sure as to why his dark childe wanted the chains and pulleys installed in the basement. Giggling, Drusilla had kept her secret, only saying that it was for a game. Raindrops was a game Drusilla thought of while dancing in a rainstorm and talking to the stars. The hardest part of the game was tying her playmate to the ceiling so they lay flat above her.
Once the victims were stretched above her, Drusilla would take the long, pearl-handled knife her daddy gave her. Carefully, she would choose the right areas- away from arteries, but near good veins. Then she would drive the blade into the torso and legs repeatedly, opening tiny torrents of blood. As the blood dripped down, Drusilla spun beneath the ensanguinating body, dancing in the red rain, tasting the raindrops as the fell from the living sky.
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