Countdown to Condemnation
This article is a part of Spooktober 2023 and is still a work in progress. Written for the Clock prompt.Ebio stood on the balcony of her home, staring out over the city of Paris, and waited for death to come. After Darragh had attacked her months ago, she had sent her dear Itztli and his darling child Xiang out into the world to find Nazar and Issuru. The very nature of the eldest of their kind made it hard to find them. Those like her, who were the child of an Elder, were capable of staying in one place and living a life for some time. Simply on the nature of what they were, the Elders - and the First beyond them - were not capable of such things. They could stay for a time but there was an otherworldliness that cloaked the firstborn children who were the founders of the vampiric bloodlines. It made mortals shy away from them if they lingered overlong, buried prey instincts recognizing the predator in their midst. Thus, she had to send her eldest son and her only grandchild away to find them. To bring them to her so they could judge her youngest and either condemn him to death or free him. She had been alone in the big, magnificent house that she had bought for her immortal family since weeks after it happened. Darragh had stayed in one of the guest rooms after the attack, licking his wounds after her star's brash child Trjónn had brought him down with a hunter's blade. And then her daughter had arrived, answering the letter that Ebio had sent to her villa in Italy. Gnaea had taken her youngest brother back with her and had sent but one letter back during the months that had passed since. As 1781 had waned but before the new year had dawned, it had arrived and Ebio's heart had broken as she read it. In seeking to stake the claim that she had been given to Marie Smith's eldest son, she had done irreparable harm to one of her children. Ebio may have never been a mother in life - the two children she had birthed from her body had died not long after drawing their first breaths - but she loved the children of her blood fiercely. So much so that she had been willing to let her Darragh strike her down. Instead, foolish Trjónn had put his nose into matters that were not his to be involved in and she had lost control of the fight. Now, Ebio simply waited for the clock to wind down until the end. What was it the English called it? Dómes dæg. That was it. She stared out at the Parisian skyline for an indeterminable amount of time before the front door downstairs opened. Ebio closed her eyes briefly and bowed her head as she heard footsteps outside her bedroom hesitate briefly before moving towards her. There was a gentle rap against the glass of the doors that led to the balcony and then her Itztli murmured, "The First is downstairs, Mother." Ebio did not turn to greet him. Instead, she tightened her grip on the railing and heard the wrought iron creak underneath the pressure. She wanted to cry, to scream, to beg if it would get her what she wished. This was not what she had wanted to happen and now it felt wildly out of her control. "Mother." Turning then, she tried to smile but failed miserably. Ebio forced herself to release the railing instead and walked over to her eldest son, lifting shaking hands to grasp his dark-skinned cheeks. "I love you, you know this," she said softly. "As I love your brother." He frowned before lifting his hands to cover hers and asked, "Even now? After what he did?" Ebio just smiled. "I told you when I took him that if he remembered what I did - what I stole from him - I would allow him his rage. If it would save him in the end, I would give him anything." Her son's hands clenched over hers and he breathed, "Not your life, Mother. I love my brother but it is you I chose. Over and over again, it is you over him." "I know, my Itztli." "Malloy," he corrected gently and she smiled. "You will always be Itztli to me, my warrior son," Ebio replied softly. "But one day I will call you as you request." Then she pulled her hands from beneath his, letting both fall to her sides as she summoned the courage to face Nazar. "Let us go. We have a guest to entertain." Her eldest son nodded and fell into step behind her as Ebio left the room, heading downstairs. As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw that Nazar was waiting just before the inner front doors. With his hands folded behind him, wearing a finely tailored coat that looked to be the latest of Russian fashion, he would have been the perfect picture of a high class gentleman...if it were not for the color of his skin. He turned as he heard their approach and Ebio felt as if the steadily ticking downward time she had been sensing for months suddenly stop. The clock had run out. And she did not know if her youngest child would live or die.
Ebio standing on her balcony, created using Playground AI
Timeframe: 1782
Location: Paris, France
Event: Ebio waits for Malloy and Yen Xiang Jun to return with Nazar - the First - and Issuru - her sire, one of the six Elders - so they may judge Darragh's attack on her.
Consquences: Ebio regrets decisions she had made but knows there is nothing she can do about it.
The favorite of the Elder Issuru's children, it is known that she was born in Egypt and that she and her sister, Abana, were turned at the same time. In her life, she has garnered a brutal reputation that makes hunters usually whisper her name and has sired three children, loving them as if they were her own by birth.
Once a proud warrior amongst his people, Itztli was dying in the streets of Tenochtitlan when Ebio came upon him. There he became her second child and intensely loyal to her when she helped him slaughter the Spaniards that had ruined his people. For centuries, he and his child Yen Xiang Jun remained at his sire's side until she told them to go live their lives.
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