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the artificial pulse of an immortal

greener gardens

did you know it, when i looked into your eyes?
spring time, turning into summer.
i kissed your lips and sensed myself
standing on the pathway to greener gardens,
cooler breezes and more pleasant evenings.

arms wrapped around bodies.
we explored the edge of temptation
and tasted of its fruits, while throwing caution
into the winds of change blowing past us.
we stood upon the precipice of eternity.

i dared myself into the realm of possibility,
and you took me by the hand.
gentle, the hold of fingers intertwining;
hearts blending, doors flung open, daring us
to take that step, that very next push.

reckless, or perhaps daring?
does the beating of two pulses in
simultaneous medley form courage in its wake?
heaven only knows which angels might have sung,
but i heard their symphony just the same.

inside the windows of your soul.
coaxed to the confines of your essence and here i am,
standing on the path to greener gardens,
grateful for the chance to savor
the sweetness of romance realized.

Posted November 3, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 0 Comments

starlight and glitter

Posted October 11, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 7 Comments

Disembarking

The night air possessed a pointed chill. I only knew this because I saw John before he slipped into Robin’s rental car, teeth chattering and arms huddled close to his body. Fresh snow had fallen on the mountains of Lake Tahoe some time the night prior and as a result, the wind carried the crisp bite of winter when it blew past. October in the mountains. I had not realized, when Victor and I chose the place we would be wed, that white-capped peaks would provide the backdrop to our outdoor ceremony.

It seemed almost magical.

I recall driving up to the resort, fresh from a five hour flight with Victor behind the steering wheel, leading us through winding paths toward our destination. As the snow appeared into view, I marveled over it, grinning at my soon-to-be-husband and making an offhanded comment about snow angels. The corner of his mouth curled upward. He countered with what precisely we would be doing on the ground if such a thing were to transpire.

Needless to say, the shiver running up my spine, then, had nothing to do with the temperature.

This time, though, I slipped my hands inside the pockets of the wool trenchcoat I wore, as though I could sense the chill the same way our mortal son could. It was not lost on me how long it might be before I saw him and his sister again. When we yet lived in Shreveport, I said goodbye to them, not knowing what the future held as Victor and I left for Las Vegas. While our plans to globetrot were delayed then, we now held the tickets to verify our next destination would be Europe. In another continent. Heaven only knew what would change between now and the next time I saw John and Lydia.

Victor spoke my name, breaking me from my thoughts.

I shifted my focus to the man I just married, and could not help but to grin when our eyes met. He smiled in response. “Are you ready to depart, lover?” he asked as his hand touched the handle to the driver’s side door.

I nodded. “Whenever you are, maestro,” I said, winking and studying Victor for a few lingering moments before opening the passenger side door and slipping inside. Within moments, we found ourselves nestled in the confines of the Mustang we rented, en route to the Reno airport. The soft melody of classical music streamed from the radio’s sound system and for a short time, I became lost in the notes and measures being played. Until Victor spoke again.

“Is everything alright, my poet?” he asked, glancing at me quickly before focusing on the road once more.

The question itself might as well have been a formality. My lover and I could sense nearly every sentiment not being blocked from the other through the ties of our blood bond. My own powers provided a psychic link between us and Victor had the ability to borrow my talents if he wished to read my mind. Still, I much preferred it this way at times; speaking our concerns aloud rather than taking verbal communication for granted.

“For the most part,” I said, punctuating my words with a smile. My hand reached for his leg on impulse, seeking the comfort of touch. “Simply pensive, but not in a bad way.”

“Anything you wish to talk about?” One of his hands lifted from the steering wheel, finding mine. Our fingers intertwined.

I looked toward the car in front of us, making out the taillights of Robin’s rental somewhere on the winding road ahead of us. As I began to speak, my thoughts took form, some of them the content of a conversation we had engaged in earlier that day. I had showed him a photograph of Monica and the children I held onto for fifteen years, taken during my brief years spent in mortal form. A necklace belonging to Monica was brought to me by Robin as well when he joined us in Lake Tahoe. I relayed to Victor my intentions with both items of nostalgia.

Our conversation drifted into thoughts about the past.

The photograph and necklace had been in storage for eight years. Relics of another life, I once cared very little for revisiting those years, as the thought alone would often threaten to consume me with melancholy. Eight years were spent in Philadelphia, helping Robin manage his coven, my duties enough to occupy my attention with the day-to-day problems of nesting with thirty vampires. On occasion, however -- when the nights were bereft of activity -- I would take long walks. My mind would stray toward what drove my family apart.

In my darkest thoughts, I can imagine what it would have been like had I kept the photograph especially on display. Rising night after night with a constant reminder of what was missing in my life staring me in the eyes. A spouse with which to share my life. Being able to hold John and Lydia and watch them take their first steps; watch them form personalities of their own. They were five and three when I had to leave. Fifteen years flew by, like the passing of the wind upon the desert sands.

Had my life been left to this emptiness, I can imagine my years as a vampire might have been short. The next time fate knocked on my door, demanding I become the seer again, I might have become reckless on purpose, to see how long it took before a sword pierced my heart and rendered my form to ashes. As it was, I struggled to maintain some semblance of composure, fooling the world into thinking I was a calm, settled immortal.

Fate, however, had other plans for me.

In the present, I smiled at Victor, pausing for a moment to look at him and whisper my love for him. The grip on his hand tightened and my lips produced the next line of thought which held me soundly in its throes.

***

My mind strayed to the past year. Within the span of these short months, everything transformed into the reality I now inhabited. I met Celeste and only weeks later, a young lady mustered the courage to come knocking at the coven door, requesting to speak with me. By the night’s end, my now-grown daughter wound up tight in my embrace, both of us compensating for years lost within the span of hours. I began to believe the miraculous was not finished with me, after all. What followed only reinforced that conviction. My son, John, turned eighteen under the Philadelphia coven’s roof. Now a young man, he resembled me as though a twin carved from my very DNA, his personality reminiscent of the woman I said goodbye to all those years ago.

Some time after this, a roller coaster ride of sentiment swept me along for the ride of my life.

I left Celeste. I left Philadelphia, with Lydia and John in the able hands of their Uncle Robin as their caregiver while I journeyed to Louisiana. The trip intended to help me clear my thoughts, I operated under the guise of assisting local covens as an adviser while spending most of my time mired in the tumult of love lost, found, and lost again. The most cunning psychologist could not have told me just what this vampire’s heart was seeking. A companion, this much was certain, but under what form remained to be seen.

I bounced around in fruitless pursuits. I returned to Philadelphia, then ventured back to Shreveport again with Celeste and the children. The entire episode threatened to rip apart my sanity, especially after Lydia fell sick while yet in Philadelphia and had to be turned. The world drew in a deep breath and exhaled a mighty wind of change, reinventing the entire landscape of my life. I failed to make sense of most of it while lost in its manic throes. It would not be until some weeks later that the world finally made sense.

He was waiting on the other side.

***

I squeezed Victor’s hand, feeling the ring recently placed on my finger. My smile turned soft and memories spilled out as though given the stage for their proper deference. I relayed to him thoughts of our first encounters and we shared a laugh over the sheer irony of it all.

***

Had any creature or mystic of the mortal world informed me one day Victor and I would be married, I would have deemed them a lunatic and doomed them to a life of insanity. We nearly came to blows in one of our first conversations and a thorn stuck in my side from that point forth I could not pluck out. I wanted to hate him. The more I learned of him, however, the more I lamented the fact that circumstance prevented us from being friends from the start. When I returned to Shreveport, the grand humor of the cosmos reunited me with my one-time rival. Only this time, things were different.

Within a matter of weeks, he came to live with Celeste and me. A nest formed from the unlikely threesome, with a strange attraction to Victor rising to the surface I could neither deny, nor bring myself to fully realizing. As we lingered in each other’s presence, though, I felt myself become more drawn toward him. The first time I kissed him, my psyche shook. My soul quivered with the realization I had fallen in love with him. The depths of this would be plumbed more as weeks turned into months.

I remembered visiting Victor in Las Vegas after a few days spent apart from him. At the time, I wanted to run into his arms and kiss him, losing myself within the embrace while clutching him tight against me. It was the first time I understood how much he meant to me; how much being away from him pierced my heart. From there, the love we fostered rapidly turned from flame to conflagration.

Not much later than this, he asked me to run away with him.

Two weeks later, we pulled up to his residence in Shreveport and the next day, I woke to find myself lying beside my lover as the next phase of our life commenced. I recalled walking around the spacious house in wonder, aware now it would be Victor and me together, inseparable for the remainder of our eternal existence. The surreal met with the delightful; the stress of the preceding weeks broke like cloud parting, permitting the moon to shine once more. As I skimmed a hand over counter tops, furniture, and any other surface I could touch, I confirmed to myself this all was truly happening.

I felt the same the first time I woke with him in Las Vegas, and each night afterward settled me into this life, while speaking in louder and louder tones that my soul and Victor’s had become completely entangled. I recalled the look in his eyes when he asked me to marry him and flashed forward to the gaze we shared as we exchanged vows.

***

Stealing a glance at the ring on my finger once more, I spoke the words I once penned about my eternal companion.

Everything was different, and everything was blessed.

We pulled into the Reno airport as the bout of nostalgia came to a close and exchanged a kiss before getting out of the car. As I plucked our suitcases from the trunk, I paused to pass one to my lover, then stole a glance toward the heavens while setting out for the terminal, hand-in-hand with Victor. A silence settled between us, both of us lost possibly in the same train of thought. I stared at the passersby and stole a quick glance at our children as John, Lydia, Robin, and Delilah strolled beside us through the airport.

It seemed the world came full circle in that moment, the past meeting with the present, with the future lying in wait before us. Lydia and John would return to Shreveport with their uncle, and whatever laid in wait for them would find them whenever the time was right. We would see them again, this much was certain, and I needed no visions of the future to verify this in my mind.

Victor and I were headed to London, to sojourn a few days before catching a flight to Rome. I looked forward to the journey with eager anticipation. Yet, one thing remained to be done before I could board the plane.

We reached our gate and regarded our family, both of us smiling and exchanging our goodbyes. After parting from embraces and accepting kisses and well-wishes, I held up a finger and asked Robin to stop before leading the others to the gate of their departure. He perked an eyebrow. “What is it, dear brother?” he asked.

“I have something to give the children,” I said, placing the bag in my right hand onto an adjacent seat and lowering the one slung around my shoulder to the floor. Unzipping the first bag, I extracted two gift-wrapped packages, handing one to John and the other to Lydia. They glanced at each other. Lydia nodded her head, indicating John should open his first.

He shrugged and peeled the wrapping off quickly, reminding me of a child on Christmas morning.

As he extracted the photograph, I smiled on impulse and watched as he ran a finger across the glass protecting the picture. The frame not its initial home, I reserved the original encasement for a photo of Victor and my wedding and chose a new frame to house this picture. John stared at it for a long, lingering moment, then looked up at me. “This is us and Mom?” he asked.

I nodded, the smile remaining a fixture on my face. “Yes, it is,” I said. “The only one we ever had. It was taken just before we all were separated. I have kept it with me all these years and wish for you to have it.”

John nodded in response, his eyes settling on the image again before returning to mine. “It’s awesome. Thanks, Dad, I really appreciate this.” He reached forward, hugging me tight, and in the embrace I read all the sentiments a young man had trouble expressing. He held no memory of his mother. I only hoped this would fill the space where a void lingered.

I patted his back twice. “You are very welcome, John.”

He pulled away. I thought I caught a glisten in his eyes as he looked at Lydia, telling her to open hers now. A much smaller package, it rested in her hand without much evidence of what laid underneath. I watched as she turned it around once and peeled back the wrapping with much more care. She opened the lid to the jewelry case with an air of reverence. Lydia stared at its contents before asking what it was.

I plucked the necklace from inside the case, helping her fasten it around her neck. “This belonged to your mother,” I said. “She wore it for a long time for protection, and then as a memento of our first days together.” When Lydia turned to face me, I grinned. “I thought she would wish for you to have it. I am only sorry I did not give it to you sooner.”

She looked up at me, an expression on her face I could only read as wonder. Her hand lifted slowly, her fingers touching the pendant as though attempting to memorize it by feel. Two hearts, with a thorny rose engraved on top, were covered by her hand and her eyes became distant in thought for interminable seconds. I smiled softly when she looked at me again, and held her tight when she wrapped her arms around me.

The kiss placed on my cheek emanated a warm sensation even when she stepped back and nodded at me. “Thank you, Dad. Really. This is...” She paused to lift the pendant to her line of vision. Then she looked at me again. “... This means a lot.” 

“You are very welcome, my dear,” I said. Lydia and John exchanged a quick glance before my eyes found Robin. I nodded with a smile.

Robin smiled back and clasped Delilah’s hand in his. “Come now, let’s make our way to the gate before boarding starts,” he said, addressing the brood around him. I chuckled as he winked at me, then watched with Victor as our family strode away from us, fading from our sight before disappearing altogether. 

Victor's hand reached for mine and our fingers laced together once more. I looked at him, my smile brightening. “I love you, my maestro,” I said.

He nodded, mirroring my grin. “And I love you, my poet.” Our lips touched in a tender kiss and it seemed that everything surrounding us faded for just a moment, long enough for me to see the overarching topography of the world in which I live. It remained little more than background noise even as we waited for our flight to board, and continues to be somewhat muddled in the distance compared to the link I feel with the man sitting beside me on this plane.

There are many things about the future I can guess, some things which time itself will not erode no matter how many years drift past. There are, however, the variables of existence which none of us can foresee and yet, for the first time in my short years, I neither fear, nor dread, the concept of the world shifting while I stand still. As I look out the window beside me, seeing a view of London tease us with the first place we shall encounter in our travels, I cannot help but to be excited for tomorrow.

Change affects us all. And having somebody to walk beside makes all the difference in the world.

Posted October 7, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 1 Comment

A Twitter Wedding

The wedding is almost upon us! Victor and I are finishing our plans and tying up loose ends to prepare for the day we are joined as wedded husbands. While we have invited select guests to be in attendance for our wedding weekend, we wanted to share with you the day and time of our nuptials, in case any in the twitterverse cared to observe the festivities.

If you did not receive an invitation, it is not because we wanted to slight anybody; far from it. We simply wanted to keep the ceremony and reception as small and intimate as possible. This does not make it a closed event to all who would care to share our happiness with us as we pledge ourselves to one another eternally. To witness our wedding ceremony, here is the information you shall need...

On Saturday, October 3, 2009, please join
Victor Mason (@eternal_maestro)
and Peter Dawes (@poeticimmortal)
in celebrating their union as wedded husbands.

Seating for the ceremony commences
at 7:00 PM PDT
and the ceremony itself begins
at 8:00 PM PDT.

Reception to follow afterward.

The ceremony itself is taking place in Lake Tahoe, California. Our invited guests have been provided accommodations at the resort for the weekend and are encouraged to have as much fun as possible. *grins* The ceremony itself is planned to only last for an hour, but the reception will last until 11 PM PDT. We have been told, however, that should our guests desire to mingle in the reception hall past this point, they are more than welcome to do so. Refreshments shall be provided for mortal and immortal guests alike.

Our wedding party itself is limited to our best "men", Michael O'Shane (@vampirerobin) and Delilah Aevum (@delilahaevum), but our children, John and Lydia (@jmichaeldawes and @lydiadawes) shall be in attendance as well. To get the full experience, we recommend following them, especially Robin and Delilah as they have planned to present a toast to us at the reception. It remains to be seen if we should be fearful of this or not. *chuckles*

Thank you in advance to everyone planning on joining us and observing. Victor and I are very excited for this coming weekend and cannot wait to share it with you.

Warmest regards to all of our friends,
Victor and Peter

Posted September 26, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 3 Comments

Our Family on Twitter

As Victor and I find ourselves swept up in the flurry of activity which comes with planning a wedding, we have had chance to take stock of the family and friends who shall be gathered before us on that day. While the guest list shall be more extensive than these souls spoken of here, at the same time we thought we would take this chance to introduce those closest to us. Consider this our Follow Friday. *grins*

For starters, the groom and... err... groom. *chuckles* In case you are not following one of us:

- @eternal_maestro - Victor Mason, made vampire in 1605. My lover, bonded, and eternal companion. I could fill this entire page with a description of him alone, but shall err on the side of brevity and allow my wedding vows to convey what he means to me. *smiles*

- @poeticimmortal - Of course, me. Made vampire in 1983, you could say I am... a fairly young upstart of an immortal, but these days have been much kinder to my vampire disposition. I answer to either Peter or Poet. Dear heavens, please do not call me Pete.

And now, those whom we call dear.

- @DelilahAevum - Victor’s immortal child, Delilah, a youthful-spirited vampire of two-hundred thirty-six years. While she currently resides in Las Vegas as well, her profession as a dealer of high-end goods often lends itself to a bit of travel.

- @LydiaDawes - My daughter, Lydia, who was turned immortal by me earlier this year. She was twenty years old when turned and is a very intelligent young woman with a sharp wit and several special gifts to her credit.

- @jmichaeldawes - My son, John, a mortal of eighteen years. John stands alone as the sole human of us all, but manages to hold his own, when not enthralled by his video game console or busy with college studies and sword sparring with his uncle.

- @vampirerobin - My brother, Robin, who is a vampire of one hundred sixty-one years. He is also a coven master in Philadelphia, but is currently on sabbatical in Shreveport, where he looks after John, Lydia, and Katerina.

- @katerinaoshane - Robin’s sole immortal child, Katerina. A former sorceress and his ward in many senses of the term, she is also his lover and very newly made herself. As such, she is yet adjusting to immortal life.

- @OpheliaRomani - While Ophelia is not my blood sister, in the ways of immortals, she is my defacto older sister. She also serves as the head of a coven in Toronto and is three hundred and fifty years old.

If you would like a quick, one-click option to follow us all, then click the button below. (Thank you very kindly to @kitchenbitch, who made convenient links available to follow the entire True Blood twitterverse here.)

Keep an eye on us, for one never knows when a member of the family might step out onto the stream to say hello. *winks*

That is all for now.

My maestro’s immortal poet,
Peter

Posted September 10, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 1 Comment

To All With Ears to Hear...

 

(In case you missed Victor's blog post announcing his name change, click here to view it.)

Posted September 9, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 0 Comments

The Pathway to the Present

I remember Monica Alexander Dawes very well.*

She had bright green eyes like mine, with dark hair flowing down past her shoulders and a blonde streak which framed one side of her face. This strange permeation of her supernatural gifts was something I always wondered about, even when I met her as an assassin. Even when I hated her. My, how much things changed. Within the span of a few months, I went from loathing the wiry, impish sorceress to falling headlong into love with her. In time, I found myself pining for my mortality, if just so we could be together as a typical man and woman. I traveled across four continents for her. I fought to the death to defend her. And in the end of it all, I woke lying in a pile of rubble, possessing a pulse and breathing air again.

We escaped from the Order we served to be away from its demands. I, a master seer. She, a gifted watcher. Commodities to an entity whose sole purpose was to hunt and slaughter that which I had been... vampires. We woke late one night, trapped in a hotel in Rome, with little more than the clothing on our backs and my sword by my side. Somehow we made it to Naples and, subsequently, to a small Catholic mission buried deep within Costa Rica.

I still remember when she told me she was pregnant.

We had been married in a very small ceremony with little more than priests, nuns, and peasants gathered around us as, in fledgling Spanish, we exchanged vows and consummated our union with a kiss. Little more than a month later, Monica confronted me on the balcony of our small room after a very frustrating day in the clinic I served in as a doctor.

***

Monica closed the door, but paused when I failed to greet her in the customary manner. Instead, I continued to look off toward the other side of the room. “Peter?” she finally said, in some effort to break the silence.

I glanced at her, then looked away again.

Monica stepped cautiously toward me. “Your thoughts are closed off,” she said.

Our psychic link. Her ability to read my thoughts and mine, hers, although my ability at least permitted me to raise walls of resistance against her prying. “You do not wish to be in my thoughts right now,” I said curtly.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I do not wish to be in them presently, either.”

Monica sat on the bed across from me and folded her hands on her lap. Studying me without saying anything, she seemed to be peeling through the layers of my mind, but as I sensed no intrusion inside of my subconscious, I realized she was merely waiting. Waiting for me to crack. Knowing I'd get around to expressing my thoughts if she'd just give me a chance to organize them first. We sat in this manner for a few minutes, until I finally took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes.

“I don't know if I can do it,” I said to her with a frown. “I'm supposed to be a human, but I'm more pissed at the mortal world now than I've been in months.”

Her gaze turned from curious to sympathetic. “What is it, dear?”

I closed my eyes and wrestled between the compulsion to stay aggravated and the soothing melody of her voice. I didn't want to be comforted and wasn't ready to let go of the anger. So, I gritted my teeth and said, “These people are impossible. I try to prescribe remedies to them and they assume I am visiting witchcraft upon them. I can't connect with this mentality that dictates one must cut off their nose to spite their face.”

“Which is something vampires never do, right?”

I opened my eyes and flashed annoyance with my gaze. “Please don't contribute to the problem.”

The grin that had touched the corners of Monica's mouth quickly vanished. It was her attempt to be playful with me – a characteristic endemic in my wife's makeup – but it failed miserably. “Contribute to what problem?” she asked, with a trifle more defensiveness in her tone.

“Humanity,” I said. “These counter-intuitive creatures with death wishes. I cannot believe this is where I am now. . . in the realm of the daft.”

“Excuse me. . .” Monica laughed. “Who crowned you as the sharpest tool in a shed full of dull instruments?”

“I don't know,” I spat back, harsher than I intended. “Maybe, just maybe, The Fates made a fucking mistake when they made me mortal again. If I'm going to be forced to reason with the insane, it would have been better for them to have struck me down and kept me as dust.”

“I can't believe I'm hearing this from you.”

I looked away and scoffed. “Yes, well, I can't believe this is my sentiment at the moment, but it is nonetheless. I'm absolutely... lost. Dumbfounded. I can't do it. That is simply the problem, I cannot be this forgiving of simple-minded foolishness and if this is what it takes to be human... .”

I trailed off as I stood and marched outside to the balcony. Not bothering to look back at Monica, I walked all the way to the railing and placed my hands upon it as my eyes traced across the horizon. The air was sticky with humidity and the breeze blowing past me was warm and hardly comforting. But I stood there and continued staring, even when I became aware of Monica's presence in the doorway.

“What happened?” she asked, exasperation still present in her voice despite her attempt to mask it.

“Nothing,” I said, once again being curt with her.

“Peter, please. . .”

“I'm done discussing it.”

She walked closer and touched my shoulder with her hand. “Talk to me,” she said.

“What do you want me to say to you?” I asked, my eyes darting around the outside as another warm breeze blew past me. “What do you wish to hear? That I have one frustrating day and I swear at humanity? What kind of damn human being does that make me, Monica? How the fuck am I going to make it through the next ten or twenty or thirty years in this manner when I still think like a vampire?”

“Peter, this isn't going to get better overnight.”

“It is not going to get better at all!” I turned to look at her and nearly shouted my words as my fingers interlaced with my hair. “My God, it's been a few weeks now and I. . .” I shook my head, allowing my arm to plop back down to my side. “How long does it take? Am I ever going to be fully human again?”

Monica continued studying me until I turned toward the railing again and looked down. She was silent for a minute, but then spoke softly. “Every human wrestles with frustration.”

“Yes, but never before did I want to damn the enter human race when I got aggravated. I'm still not the person I remember being. I swear, I could have damned every one of the patients I saw today and would have felt justified in doing so, but I never had the temptation to do that before. It's like I can't get this notion out of my mind that I'm walking among different beings.”

“You still have the same heart, Peter, you just have to let go of the reflexes you developed when you were Flynn.”

“Which shall take years to happen.”

“That's ok,” she said. “If it takes years, then I'll still be with you to see you through it.”

“Why the hell do you wish to be with me?” I asked as I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

Monica kissed my shoulder. “Because my daughter needs her father and I need my husband.”

I opened my eyes and looked down at Monica, raising an eyebrow at her as she finally acquiesced to another subdued grin. “What do you mean by that? Your daughter?”

The grin held steady. “I mean exactly what I said, Peter Dawes. You're going to have a daughter.”

At once, my brain registered the words without fully processing them. “I. . .” escaped my lips, but the rest of the words refused to come. Instead, they remained trapped in my throat, tangled with the other thoughts that couldn't decide if they wished to be vocalized or merely locked inside my mind. A daughter? No, that was impossible, because only mortals have children and I surrendered that right five years prior when I chose to become a vampire. Getting married was one thing. . . but there wouldn't be any family for me. Because that would make me human again and I wasn't. . .

My face broke out in a smile despite myself. “You're pregnant?” I finally managed to ask.

Monica's smile became brighter. She reached for one of my hands and clasped it in hers. “Yes, I am,” she said.

I laughed abruptly; a short laugh full of delighted disbelief. “And it's. . . a girl? You know this? How the devil do you know. . .” I chuckled again, assailed by a giddiness that reminded me of insanity. Only, this didn't feel near as bad as the other form of lunacy which had me within its throes a few minutes prior. Whereas the words had been stopped up before, now they came spilling out like a torrent. “Of course you know. You're gifted and smart and beautiful and oh God. . . I love you.” I looked her in the eyes. “I absolutely love you.”

I captured her in my arms and raised her off her feet, spurring her to wrap her legs around my waist. She laughed as I nearly spun her around. “I love you too,” she managed, but I cut off any further words with a deep kiss, something which prompted her hand to my face as she indulged both long and short, pecking kisses from me. “I love you,” I said to her again, unable to figure out what else to say to her.

“I love you too, Peter,” she said and when she thrust a deep kiss onto my lips, I become completely immersed in it. Everything else that followed became lost in a haze of rapture. 

***

Bliss comes in different forms, I have discovered.

I remember when my children were born.

Lydia Marjorie Dawes, the first to breathe life and fill the air with shrill screams while I held her in my hands, laughing over the miracle of it all. Small legs flailing, little hands balled in fists with her wails echoing across the room where her mother still laid recovering from childbirth. My hands were the first to hold Lydia and I still recall noting how small she seemed within the large expanse of my palms.

John Michael Dawes, the second to be born. It seemed the circle was complete; I had a daughter and now, I had a son. His eyes bright and blue much as mine had been before my seer powers were made manifest, I knew I held more than my progeny, as much as I knew Lydia was no typical girl herself. My daughter could sense the future, even before she had the proper vocabulary with which to convey it. My son bore so many of my physical attributes, I knew the powers I was born to embody would someday be manifest in him as well. Together with their mother, they were my pride and joy for nearly six blessed years.

That was when the world came crashing down upon my shoulders.

I still remember when my mortality crumbled like rocks slipping into the sea. I remember the dreams which plagued my years with my family becoming more intense. The taste of blood springing forth to tempt me. The thoughts of the kill, the swirling haze of the vampire instinct rising to claim me and drag me under once more. I ran to my brother Robin, begging him to help me save my dying mortality. Instead, I discovered the truth. This seer, this powerful hunter, this blade-wielding psychic held one ability he had not realized before - I could summon a mortal form and had for nearly six years until my true nature rose forth once more.

I recall the first mortal I fed from after returning to my vampire state, an Irish girl on the streets of Dublin.

I recall sitting on the airplane, headed to a coven in Toronto where I would readjust to being the bloodthirsty creature I once was. Saying goodbye to my son, my daughter, my wife as I stared out into the black expanse of night and figured they were lost to me for good. And then fate making it a reality, my wife dying, my son and daughter captured by the Order I tried to hide them from. My ability to assume mortal form being stripped from me, and the dark years which followed.

Sex and alcohol became my panacea. My nightmares became even more intense. I lost myself in trysts with as many women as I could possibly become entangled with; I lost myself in dulled emotions and endless nights, and finally in the work of being my brother’s second-in-command. I forgot who I was until I fell in love with Celeste and Lydia came looking me, finding me in Philadelphia helping to manage my Robin's coven. With Celeste’s help, I freed her and her brother from the Order and once again, I held my son and daughter.

Only now, fifteen years had passed. The little girl who used to make me chase her through Costa Rica was now a young woman. The small boy now stood nearly as tall as his father and looked me in the eyes the first time I said hello to him. Being little more than the shell of the man I once was for years, I did not know any longer how to relate to what I had. I ran away to Louisiana for a short time. Soul-searching and breaking connections only to establish them once again, I went through periods of knowing who I was and valleys of forgetting what I was supposed to be. It was not until I met a certain dark-haired man that the existential questions started to form answers.

I remember meeting Victor.

If there had been an angel perched upon my shoulder, telling me this was the one I would be bound to for the rest of my immortal days, I would have laughed at it and questioned its sanity. Our first meetings were rocky at best, with the threat of fights commencing in fits of jealousy I harbored. The road smoothed when he met Celeste and then became a path to the future the first time we exchanged a knowing glance with one another. The first time I looked at him and saw something more. The first time I touched him and meant something else.

I still remember the first time we kissed.

***

I sat in a chair, looking at him, somehow on the subject of my affections for him. Afraid to take the next step, nudging at the line in tentative measures while towing the point of no return. Finally, my thoughts found unction. “This all is so... new to me,” I said. “Everything is. At times I have eloquent words and other times, I only have the sentiments I harbor without any clear way of communicating them. Maybe one of these days, I will have the words.” I paused, summoning a half smile. “When I can believe I am harboring the thoughts I am thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow at me and the knowing smile on his face indicated he figured out where I was headed. “Thoughts, dear brother?” he asked. “Someday you will have to tell me, but no rush. I'm not adept at expressing my emotions, but I expect that will change in time, too.”

It was now or never. I indulged in a deep breath, eyes holding steady with his while wondering what all he saw when he looked at me. “I expect, in time, I shall become more adept at articulating these sentiments as well.” I nodded, looking away. “In time, we shall discuss it. In the meantime, suffice to say, I am very glad you are here.”

My eyes returned to his.

Victor nodded slowly, his head tilting as he considered me. He moved to stand beside my chair and leaned down, touching his lips to my forehead, in a kiss which could have been construed as brotherly, but hinted at more behind the motion. He pulled back and grinned, as though he knew I would be shaken by the embrace.

And startled, I was. I did not move, though. My eyes met his once more and a shiver ran from the base of my spine to the top at the touch placed on my forehead. I furrowed my brow at the reaction and yet, I reached for his hand and held onto it, stopping him from walking away.

The action served its purpose. His grin became a questioning expression while our eyes searched back and forth as though commencing a tentative dance. Victor leaned forward, but paused, studying me as though waiting for what my reaction would be.

I refused to break the gaze, no matter how many knots knit themselves in my stomach. I regarded his face, then looked at his mouth and froze on the sight of his lips. Drawing in another deep breath, I took in his scent and at once, the truth came rushing into my senses, capturing each one. I had never loved another man the way I love Victor. I had never desired one the way I desire him. My apprehension might as well have pinned itself to the same shirt sleeve my heart resided on and bridging the gap became an internal dare I had to answer. Before I could stop myself, I shut my eyes and touched his lips with mine in a tentative embrace.

His lips were gentle, but quickly became encouraging. The kiss started light, but became much more natural. As I lost myself within the strange new reality I embodied, I realized very rapidly how right this was and opened my arms wide, allowing abandon to take over. Never before had I known something with so much clarity, the wanting him and the needing him. The loving him, as well. I knew life would never be the same again.

***

Now, I see the future, in the clearest tones I have ever seen it.

There is an impish sorceress I once knew who smiles at me from the sands of time, glad to see my troubled soul at rest, once and for all.

There is a young woman, turned vampire by my own blood, who smiles at me and calls me ‘Dad’ as she carves out her own path in the world.

There is a young man who looks me more and more at eye level every day, who someday shall know what it is like to wield more than swords and consider more than his life’s daily events.

And there is a man I stand beside, whose hand and mine fit together like puzzle pieces which were always meant to be connected and whose silent hearts find a pulse with one another.

There is a future waiting for me, past the broad horizon and into the panorama of endless nights. For the first time in my life, I am looking forward to seeing what fate brings to my doorstep. Because, today, I know what I have.

---
* - Writer's note: Monica is a character from Peter's novel storylines and not a former roleplaying character.

 

Posted September 5, 2009 by peter dawes 
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walk with me, lover

walk with me through the shifting sands
of centuries, rolling in a constant ebb and flow.
time, itself, irrelevant except to burn the twilight
with the light of day, but in the night...

... in the night, you and i are gods.

strolling through the cavalcade of humanity,
hand in hand with the world around us
a place and time to be recorded in
memories yet being penned, to be penned...

... forever, lover... page after page in our story.

dancing with you, arms wrapped tight around
the one thing i shall ever want or need.
feeling you close to me, breathless moments
with lips brushing against lips, closing eyes...

... to kiss you. rob my breath and take my life.

i beg you. yours, each day, yours to capture
completed are we, two pieces of a puzzle,
sewn together into a tapestry.
yours, unending symphony, enthralled by you...

... immortal lover mine, my soul's delight.

walk with me through passing scenery
and fill us both with the enchantment
i can only find in you. walk with me and i
shall be by your side, come what may...

... your eternal companion...

... your poet, bound and true...

... a constant star inside the night sky
we possess and claim as our own
through shifting sands and rising tides
now, lover, and forevermore.

Posted August 7, 2009 by peter dawes 
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where lies the truth

the poet etches words onto a paper
indelible words, with indelible sentiments
spoken in the deepest portions of the
deepest channels within a river running
through the very soul.

what could be said more than the
languages invented by men?
fickle, the sentences, often written
to lay the foundation of houses built on sand.
i watched the tide come in once.
it swept away the firmament.

tell me what conveys truth deeper
than these falllible tools?

would droplets of blood upon a canvas
do the work of a hundred sorcerers
casting a hundred spells to make these
small and simple phrases
lift from the page and bleed into the
cracks and fissures of your heart?

would the whispers of angels
in the ears of gods on thrones above
lace the ink spilled on the parchment
with such magic, the truth could not
be spoken any more sincere?

bound to the earth, i am.

the spells and whispers, the drops of blood,
all of these things yet find their footing
on those castles made of clay
laid down by servants of the master of deceit.

the written word, the double-edged sword,
slices through the marrow, but not often
to mend or bring the peace which
simply knowing often brings.

instead the truth resides within
not the tools... not the pen and ink before me,
but within the soul of he who writes them.
the heart of he whose fingertips
hold the instrument within their grip.

the poet speaks his very life
within the shaky breath and the
weak knees, the tears and soft caresses,
imparted one upon the other.
love, like a river flowing,
soul to soul and heart to heart.

such is the cadence of words
presented with hands outstretched before you.
let eyes meet eyes and hands meet hands
and therein lies the truth.

Posted August 5, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 2 Comments

The Shifting Sands - Pt. 6

Pt. 1 - A Fixed Point in the Cosmos | Pt. 2 - My Life for Yours | Pt. 3 - Forgive Me | Pt. 4 - Robin's Journal, July 21 | Pt. 5 - Embracing Nature

***

Enjoy the Silence

The creeping sound of the inevitable is one I have learned to loathe and yet, something I have become accustomed to after fifty-five years on this mortal coil. Everything seems to have its own pulse and while a steady, healthy beat thumping in time with the rhythm of life lets us know the body around us is healthy, when the heart starts to fail, the results can be devastating.

“Words, like violence, break the silence...”

I knew there was something wrong when I looked into her eyes. The rhythmic ticking of our love’s pulse had slowed. Her gaze read of a hundred things, none of them pleasant. I saw pain. I saw torture. And when I opened my mouth, it took all of the effort I could muster for speech to break through the barrier of hesitation holding it back. I asked what was the problem.

“I saw Robin’s journal,” she said. She frowned. My stomach sank a little at the way her eyes glistened. “You weren’t going to talk to me about this?”

“I did not know how to,” I said, my eyes meeting hers with severity. “But there is no negotiating on this matter anyway. My mind is made up.”

“... come crashing in, into my little world...”

“Without coming to me? You have always been able to talk to me, about anything. We spoke of... hundreds of things in Philly. Some were things that made us cry, feel shattered and shredded by the end of the night. This is no different. ”

I frowned at the accusation of those words. A mind made up without the counsel of somebody I was supposed to love. Despite who else I might have gone to as I sought an answer to my dilemma, hers was the only opinion I did not seek. Because I knew where her heart laid.

“You would have never agreed,” I said. I shook my head and looked away. “So, I was saving us the argument.”

“I care what happens to you, I have and I always will.” The waver in her voice forced me to look back at her. A tear escaped her eyes, rolling down her cheek. “He promised me. ME! beloved. He promised ME!”

“... painful to me, pierce right through me...”

It should have impacted me harder than it did, but somehow I had become calloused to the sight of her tears. I shook my head. “This is not about you.”

“Except it is.” She scoffed. “What did you think my reaction would be? Do you expect me to just let you... kill him? I can feel him. He's a part of me as well. If he dies do you not think a part of me will die also?”

“You immediately went there... did you not? I came to you, confiding my fears, and you hurtle accusations that I am going to kill Flynn.” I laughed, incredulous. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? He is me, damn it!” I pointed to my chest. “And so long as I can help it, I am going to protect my lover.”

“Protect him by harming yourself?” She shook her head. “With all that has happened, I worry about you.”

“Nothing is going to go wrong.”

Our eyes met again. She frowned. “Why would you take Flynn away?”

“... can’t you understand, oh my little girl...”

Somehow, inside my silent chest, I found a pulse again, only it did not belong to she and me, to our love for one another. Instead, its cadence rang deep into the innermost corners of my soul, something strange and new, but lasting. A bond forged with iron, woven with cords unable to be severed by human hands. I swallowed hard and nodded. “I would do anything to protect him.”

“... All I ever wanted...”

“Is that all you were thinking about?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Yes, him and him alone.”

“... all I ever needed is here, in my arms...”

“But, Peter...” She leaned against the wall as though her footing suddenly became unsteady. “After everything that happened, we agreed that we were going to work through this. All of us.”

“I know what we agreed upon, but it is no longer acceptable.”

“... words are very unnecessary, they could only do harm...”

“How can you say that?”

“I cannot take the risk any longer.” I stepped away, turning my back on her and folding my arms across my chest. “This is all just one big game of Russian Roulette. I cannot sit around waiting for the day that Flynn hijacks my emotions or loses all sense of control himself and is the one who hurts somebody I love.”

“When did we vampires become so fearful of things that have not happened? Of wonderings in the future of this and of that? When did that happen?”

“When I realized how tied my feelings are often to Flynn's responses.” I paused, sighing when I noticed the octave of my voice raise. “I told you; you saw what I said to Robin. I am... merging us. Making myself responsible for all of the actions which take place inside this body for once. Good or bad; I want control over it all.”

“... Vows are spoken to be broken...”

“But he promised me...” Her voice cracked when she spoke. “Flynn gave his word and has not done anything to prove his words false. He has never broken a promise to me and I doubt he ever will.”

“And I know him a bit better than you do.” I sighed. “All it takes is one false move -- one slip up -- and in a matter of seconds everything I hold dear can be taken away from me.”

“... feelings are intense, words are trivial...”

“But I would be there.” She nodded emphatically. “To protect Victor, I too would throw myself on a blade. I would do the same to protect you.”

“I do not want anybody to take the blade, do you not get it?!” The volume of my voice raised again despite myself. This time I did nothing to tone it down. “I do not want anybody’s blood on my hands. I do not want to black out and wake to death standing before me. I do not want injury done to a soul. I want... it... all... to... end!”

My words echoed around us. I covered my face, my hands shaking. “Do you know what it would do to me if I lost Victor?” I asked, my whisper a startling contrast compared to the shout still ringing in my ears. Lowering my hands, I looked at her and struggled to gage the expression on her face. Her eyes refused to make contact with me. Her arms crossed in front of her chest as though to hold herself, her hands touching her upper arms. I watched a tear descend from her eyes.

“A part of me is very tempted to take care of this problem my self. My solution is to call Flynn to me....take him to the weapons room and tell him to run me through!! If he ever breaks his word to me, this is what I will do and he knows it.”

“... pleasures remain, so does the pain...”

Another tear followed in its predecessor’s wake. I shook my head. “I refuse to play with lives. He refused, love. Victor refused to defend his own life to the point of my death and I confess now, asking him to was folly on my part. If the tables were turned, I would not be able to kill him to save my own neck. That he loves me this much is nothing short of a wonder to me, I...” I drew a shaky breath. "I want to guard and protect his life all the more because of this.”

“Do you think I want to play with lives?!” Her voice shot up to the pitch mine had been at a few moments prior.

I shook my head. “I never said that. You have to understand where I am coming from, though.”

She frowned and looked at me again. “You seem to be doubting my word that Flynn's promise means something.”

“He’ll break it.”

“My pledge to control him?”

“... words are meaningless and forgettable...”

“It is not good enough any longer.” I frowned. “You cannot be held responsible for his actions, Celeste.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but stopped as her eyes settled on something standing behind me. I turned around and looked, seeing Victor linger in the doorway, touching the frame with one hand while glancing from her to me and back again. He leaned against it, his facial expression even.

“I would be interested in knowing what Victor thinks of all of this,” she said.

Victor straightened at the mention of his name. He nodded, slowly. “My rocky history with Flynn aside, I see this as a chance for Peter to truly embrace what he is, to mend the rift that divided him so long ago. I want to see him at peace with himself, most of all. So more specifically, I think it is a good idea.”

She looked away from us both. Her voice descended to a whisper. “I have my own feelings on this, but they are a woman's feelings.” When her eyes met mine, they asked the question before her voice ever did. “Do you still love me, Peter?”

“... All I ever wanted...”

I stared her in the eyes.

“... all I ever needed is here, in my arms...”

My gaze shifted over to Victor, regarding the man standing there before me, hearing the steady cadence of our shared pulse. He regarded me with a frown, knowing the answer just as plain as I did. I almost wanted to repeat the words again. ‘Forgive me.’ Only this time, I was not asking his forgiveness due to Flynn or any threats against his life. I knew my words were about to cost us something else.

I looked at her again. “No,” I said, punctuating the word with a sigh. “No... as much as I have been trying to rekindle that fire, I believe the hearth has grown cold.”

“But you love him.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. I looked at Victor and could not mistake it. The very fabric of my soul would unravel if I dared lie about it. “I love him with all my heart,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“... words are very unnecessary, they could only do harm.”

She swiped at her cheeks, the tears brimming in her eyes finally spilling over. “What are your demands?”

“Demands?” I looked back at her. The word slapped against me, stinging me with what it implied. “I have no demands.”

She nodded. “Then I ask for the estate. To keep the children. You may see them whenever you want, but this is my home.” Her gaze flicked from me to Victor and back again before she turned to depart from the room without another word spoken amongst the three of us.

My eyes remained fixed on the area where she had been standing while that faltering rhythm of her love and mine faded into oblivion. It ceased beating before long. Tears welled in my eyes as the words escaped my lips. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

I doubt she heard me speak the words.

“... Enjoy the silence...”

Pt. 7 - Bounds of Love

 

Posted August 3, 2009 by peter dawes 
// 2 Comments