No Memory but of Death & Horror
This article is a part of Spooktober 2023 and is still a work in progress. Written for the Hopeless prompt.Contains suicidal thoughts. There were coming. He had been in the truly beautiful Italian countryside, living in his bloodsister's villa for months, but none of the sights or sounds of Italy had attracted his attention. No, Darragh's mind had only ever on his victims, the people that he had killed. It was on his failure to even do something as simple as die. And now, since this morning when the letter had arrived, it was on the fact that Ebio, Malloy, and Xiang were coming to the villa...with Nazar and Issuru following behind them. Part of him wanted it to happen. He wanted to be judged for his crimes and found wanting and be taken away from the blood and death he had caused unwillingly. But there was another part - a deeper part - that was suddenly screaming. Screaming that he wanted to live. That no matter what he had done, some life was better than none. That he would have likely had his throat slit or worse a century ago if Ebio hadn't taken him. What life was there to have, though, with all of the blood on his hands? After all, what did it matter that he had not been himself when he had committed the murders of all of those innocent men and women? Did it really matter when he remembered how so many of them tasted? Remembered the cries of ecstasy the women made if he took their body with his while he drank the life from them? He was a monster...and he did not see a way to be anything more than that. Practically everything he knew about being what he was had been taught to him by his brother, Ebio and Xiang. None of them had had compassion for the mortals that took as their prey, Malloy more than the other two. The only one who had ever tried to teach him compassion was Gnaea when she had come to their Paris home in 1680. She had quickly given up on the notion of teaching him such and focused instead on tempering his bestial nature. Darragh didn't know how to be anything but a killer. Even if he did now remember Ceallach and his father and Daman...he barely remembered himself. He didn't remember the rake of a twenty-some year-old who had cast dazzling smiles at every lady he saw except as something more like...a ghost. There was so little left of that young man. What hope did he have to be anything else? Even now, away from his sire and brother and all the blood and death that came with him, Darragh could feel the primal thing inside of him yearning for more of it. It wanted blood. Wanted to him to sink his teeth into the delicate skin of a throat and drink until he could not take another drop. To rut and fuck his way through his prey if it would bring him closer to that precious lifeblood. It wanted death and all he wanted was to rest. They would see what he was, Nazar and Issuru. Surely they would. They would see the monster that Ebio had created, the one that lurked under his skin and wanted so badly to tear free. The one that would glut itself on victim after victim just for the thrill of the kill, the first of the night always stuffing him so full that he could only take sips off of the rest. They would see that there was no hope for him. And they would end it. He would be free.
Timeframe: 1782
Location: Italy
Event: Darragh Ó Conaill and Gnaea Abella receive a letter telling them that Ebio is coming...with the First and her sire with her in order to cast judgment on him.
Consquences: In his grief and anguish at what he's done, Darragh convinces himself that he will die because he has no hope to be anything other than the monster Ebio made him.
The third child of the vampire Ebio, he lost his memory of who he had been when he was turned in the 1660s and became little more than a killer driven by intense bloodlust. By the 1780s, he regained his memory and has since struggled to control the aftermath of his years of bloodthirsty killing and figure out a place to belong.
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