Vein

[[Vein]] by The Second Moon

[[Being a vampire has many perks.]]

[[The ability to hunt down the most dangerous animal on the planet is one of them.]]

Sadly, the lions have all been corralled into confinement by men. Sometimes, late at night, you find yourself visiting the big cats in their cages, [[lamenting your lost dance together.]]

[[The once prideful kings of the jungle look back, impressionless, the fight long gone from their eyes.]]

[[“Don’t worry, my friends. I shall retrieve your lost glory for you.”]]

[[So you hunt.]]

An elderly gentleman walks ahead of you. He wears a lavish overcoat, hems of which swing down to the ground and flow behind him with striding motion. A top hat sits squarely on his head, absorbing the streetlight like a dark shiny crown; his cane gripped tightly in a leather-gloved hand; his back held up straight, [[projecting his full height well over his scurrying fellow citizens eager to get home.]]

You can tell from the man’s broad shoulders and brisk footsteps that the years have not taken his vigor from him. [[You are already excited by the fight he will give you.]]

[[You follow him discreetly through the evening streets. A thin mist has sprung up all around you, and you are further concealed by the passing of carriages on their last trip of the day.]]

The man has walked for quite some time, making you suspect that he has somehow detected your presence. [[But just as quickly as the thought enters your mind you dismiss it.]]

“Impossible,” you say, [[“even I wouldn’t be able to spot myself tailing me had I not been warned. The chance is wholly smothered in a weather like this.”]]

[[1, So you allow yourself a smile, your dagger-sharp canine glistening through the darkness.]] [[2, Still, you prep yourself physically for your hunt, moving your neck from side to side, producing a distinct popping sound. You are not one to easily lose your guard, even though you are fully confident of your capabilities.]]

[[Finally, the man turns into a small, nondescript alleyway. Strange, you think. From his towering stature and tasteful attire you were sure that wealth and class were in play, and expecting somewhere far more stately for the man’s destination.]]

[[But a thought enters your mind: a late-night visit to the mistress? Your smile becomes broader at the prospect.]]

[[“All the better, I can have her too after I’m done with you.”]]

You quicken your footsteps, drawing your hands from deep within your pockets, freeing one of the most powerful weapons available to you, your long sharp nails capable of slitting a man’s throat in a flash, [[on top of clawing through anything from clunky metal plates to scruffy animal hides.]]

“Bang!” Even as your lightning-fast reflex works to throw you out of the bullet’s way, you already know the bastard pulled too clever a trick for you to dodge away that easily, for his top hat was placed right at the mouth of the alley on the cobbled streets, a few feet away just as you turned the corner, made all the worse by the small circle of warm lights formed around it by the streetlamps, this abandoned crown too large a curiosity for you to ignore; and by the time your attention returned, however quickly, to a menacing shadow hiding behind a niche in the wall, [[the bullet was already halfway to your chest.]]

[[London, 1886.]]

As you crash dully to the ground, your vision dimming, this question burns in your heart, a hundred times more intently than the force of the gunshot: “How did he KNOW?” You open your mouth but only a gurgling sound comes forth, as you witness the gentleman stooping to pick up his hat, his bulky frame made all the more overwhelming from your floor-level vantage. [[Then everything fades away.]]

[[London, 1886.|2]]

[[Being a vampire has many perks.|22]]

[[The ability to rejuvenate yourself from the harshest blows in your hunt of the most dangerous animals on the planet is one of them.]]

But the pain persists, a throbbing deep in your chest. You open your eyes some two hours later, and look down. Your body has already done the job of spitting out the bullet for you, and there it lies in a small pool of your blood, [[dented from the impact against your rock-hard body.]]

[[You slowly pick yourself up from the filthy street, your hair and cheek stained from the grime and slime and shit.]]

[[1, Immediately you wipe them off, with disgust creeping up your throat- you’ve only just gone through your hair this very morning, and now it’s all ruined. “Ruined!” You say.]] [[2, Carefully you wipe them off with a snow-white handkerchief- it’s only a little dirt, and as it’s come to prove, you’re a hard fella to kill. A lot of things, including dirt, will only harm you if you let them- something you decided a long time ago.]]

You look around: the mist that was only a veil before your encounter has now turned into a full-blown smog, making you suspect enemies in every direction. But for now, you decide no one has bothered with your stone-cold body as you lay here for the past couple of hours, vulnerable and defenseless like a newborn babe, [[and the man who shot you has been gone for quite some time.]]

You can still see him, hours before, walking fast ahead of you, the ghostly yellow light from the streetlamps casting a formidable shadow in his wake; his cane making a tapping sound as he moved, rhythmic and reassured, hypnotizing you to follow him to your demise; and the majestic top hat, with which he cast an effective trap on your instinct, [[mocks you in its throne all the way through the dusk-fallen city streets.]]

[[You can almost see the cunning light in the man’s eyes as he half turns to regard you, daring you to catch up and challenge him; a smile beneath his handlebar mustache as if he is truly entertained.]]

[[You snap out of the daydream, and look at the bullet that has rendered you unconscious, which, had it hit you in the head and penetrated your brain, might have actually killed you.]]

You’ve never felt the need to use a firearm yourself- your body alone is enough for your hunts, (and what a body it is!), so there is very little information you gain from a surface-level examination of the brass shell casing, [[the front part of it knocked in from the impact.]]

Still, you turn it between your thumb and index finger, trying to reflect on all the factors that have led to you lying unconscious on the street- your biggest downfall by far. You’ve never had this much trouble before with any of your prey, and certainly none has come even close to knocking you out through any means, [[but this man was a much different animal.]]

Not only was he able to detect your intentions beforehand, a task you deemed impossible, but there was a chilling efficiency with which he eliminated the threat you posed to him as well, a ruthlessness in the lack of hesitation he gave to adopting the KILL; not to mention the highly scheming trick he pulled with his top hat- who would think of such a method to mislead a pursuer, to momentarily distract their attention, who would have such confidence and flair in predicting human thought? [[And to think you’re barely human at that.]]

It was almost as if the man had dealt with such a situation before- late night, with a probably ill-meaning agent at his back. Perhaps you weren’t even the first enemy he disposed of using this exact same method. No. [[The more you think of it, the more you become convinced that the man possessed such experience and cruelty in crushing any potential threat to his person that can only be gained from…]]

But for now, your former target has left little clues for you to follow up on, to bring your hunt to a decisive end and now to exact your revenge. You have only the memory of his towering build, an exceptional alertness to his environment you had not deemed possible, and a killer instinct that you have no chance but to appreciate, [[being a hunter yourself.]]

[[So you decide to head home, to the cramped tangled mess that is Whitechapel, choked by crime, desperation, and squalor, but also your favorite place on the planet for the entirety of your life.]]

Louise is one of the most coveted prostitutes in all of Whitechapel, because of her youth, exceptional beauty, and an almost angelic willingness to say yes to any and all bedtime proposals [[(the combination of which, you often reflect, not found in anyone else from Whitechapel, and you suspect, anywhere else in London as well).]]

Barely into her 20s, her reputation is well spread, helped partly by a hitherto unconfirmed rumor that she’s the forsaken bastard daughter of the Duke of Dagenham, whom to your knowledge is a fat spoiled man long disdained among the common folk for the equally fat silver spoon constantly held in his mouth, figuratively or not, [[and the very little effort he’s done to earn it.]]

Louise, for her part, doesn’t need this extra bit of information to spice up her game, but even you have to admit it does add to her desirability quite a bit, rumor or no. After all, the only thing better than sticking it up to the highly upper echelons of London’s society is to literally vent it off with their virgin daughters, [[even as you’re well aware that Louise is neither.]]

You know Louise because the day her bed was first open to the public, you too had queued up quite eagerly outside her door. In fact, the line had extended to the first floor and the whole time you waited miserably right underneath her bedroom, listening to the frantic creaking of the bed directly above you and the despicable moaning of the men, trying very hard to swallow your spittle every time they came, and to not just sink your teeth into the neck of the man standing ahead of you to quench your thirst, [[brought on either by lust or by the healthy circulation of blood in that hour in that shabby tenement.]]

When it was finally your turn, you exploded in her after just a few quick thrusts. And the second time, when you were halfway through, you held up her thin wrist without thinking and bit deep into it, and tasted the most delicious blood of your life- the warm liquid coursing down your throat, you savored its freshness, like honey just plucked from a blossom, the youthfulness within her blood making it a severe improvement upon anything you’d had to gulp down before- [[in fact you pitied you before her.]]

You only realized what you had done after you were through lapping up the blood that had trickled down her arm, and when you looked up a pair of clear brown eyes met yours, curious and free from any fear or judgment, [[and for the first time of your life you felt seen.]]

To your knowledge Louise has never told anyone of what she knows. She says, “We all want something in this life, and we should consider ourselves lucky when we can still satisfy our needs. It is our duty to this world really, to not leave our desires just wandering down the streets, looking for a release.” You couldn’t agree more, even though to satisfy YOUR needs, you do wander the streets quite frequently, looking for a victim juicy and robust, [[preferably someone who can inspire in you the thrill of the hunt, not the monotony of grazing a pasture.]]

But for a night like this, you go to Louise, who has offered you her blood anytime you want, in her usual manner, almost neglectful of what it means to offer herself up this way; for your part you started off going the extra mile of presuming that she also gives you her body, and for hers Louise has never complained. However with time you’ve learned to appreciate her, since for all your years in London you’ve met not another soul quite like her, so innocent and free from corruption that is literally every inch of her surroundings. Perhaps you’ve even learned to go easier on the poor souls unfortunate enough to become your targets- [[the memory of Louise’s eyes meeting yours on your first night together is just about enough to melt away any excess aggressiveness you have towards the world.]]

Sometimes, as you lay beside her late at night, the last client of her day, having taken all advantage of her and drained YOURSELF in the process, you even feel a bit of guilt taking over the ugliness of your soul, as you observe the gentle rising-and-falling of her back and the utter delicacy of her shoulder blades, her skin making the cold anonymous moonlight of Whitechapel into something pearly and pure. And you wonder how she would feel if one day you should decide to DRAIN her of her life’s blood, and she lies there hollow and shriveled, waiting to die, giant brown eyes bearing down on you, [[still hateless in her last moment toward her killer.]]

But you both know it’s never going to happen. By now the tininess of Louise has become the staunchest haven you can imagine in all of Whitechapel. And no matter how many other men she might’ve shared a bed with or will, [[you know that in her arms there is a place for you, always.]]

[[On a night like this, you know Louise is most likely occupied.]]

So you wait patiently outside her door, just like the first time you came to visit, slapping yourself on the forehead quietly for not remembering to bring her a gift. Louise always rejoices, like the girl she is, at any gift you bring her- [[which is why you only bring her the best.]]

All the time you stand there, smiling already at the imminence of seeing her. It was after a while that you realized there was absolutely no sound coming from within the apartment. Suddenly alert, you [[1, try to break down the door by crashing your shoulder against it]] [[2, decide to sneak in through the side window, (which Louise keeps open in all seasons, oblivious to the oft-lousy London weather.)]]

You bash apart the door with your considerable strength. What you find is that the room is completely tranquil, as if the owner has gone out for a prolonged evening stroll right in the middle of the night. Louise is nowhere to be found. But you also can’t find any sign of a struggle. [[Her clothes are all still in the wardrobe, her favorite jewelry in her bedside cabinet.]]

You dangle yourself into the room deftly from the window ledge, master thief in action. What you find is that the room is completely tranquil, as if the owner has gone out for a prolonged evening stroll right in the middle of the night. Louise is nowhere to be found. But you also can’t find any sign of a struggle. [[Her clothes are all still in the wardrobe, her favorite jewelry in her bedside cabinet.]]

For the first time in your time, you feel panic. The night’s experience of being bested by an old man was nothing- maybe he just got lucky; but losing Louise on the same night? A fire burns up inside of you, yet you have nowhere to place it- [[for the first time you have neither an enemy to crush or a girl to tell it all to.]]

Suddenly deflated, you sit down heavily on the floor, your back leaning against Louise’s bedpost. With whatever moonlight that shines through the fog outside the window, [[you drift into a deep slumber.]]

The next morning, you are woken by the sound of people yelling out on the streets- small vendors attracting business against the backdrop of a street brawl in action, cab drivers cursing at people to get out of the way, [[prostitutes flaunting their charms even though the sun has only just risen.]]

Your entire body aches as you slowly gather yourself into a sitting position- those hard wooden floorboards are no way to spend a night on, even for a vampire. You reach towards where you were shot last night. Only a small depression remains as a souvenir- you’re all but healed from a wound that would be the cause of death to another man, [[but it’s the memory of being done one better that haunts you.]]

More things seem to come into focus as you remember the shine from the man’s top hat and the glint from the pocket watch under his coat. Who was the man? What was he onto? Did he have anything to do with Louise’s disappearance? You suddenly look towards a necklace hanging on Louise’s vanity table, where you’ve seen her brush her long dark curls in front of- the ease of that ivory comb traveling through those rich cascades of brown silk usually would make you smile, [[but now you just wonder what’s happened to their owner.]]

But you are a VAMPIRE, you suddenly recall. You’ve never known yourself to be weak, to not pick yourself up from falling down in a fight, (which is to say, whatever little times you did fall in a fight). This degree of second-guessing and being left out of sorts is simply nonsensical, [[when you are the most armed, fit, and DRIVEN bastard in all of London.]]

You are a force to be reckoned with, yes sir. There hasn’t been nothing that’s known to have stopped you before and YOU’d be darn hard-put to think of any in your future. Yes. You are in your prime as you will forever be. The world is yours as it can belong to no other soul. If you have to scour every pub, every brothel of Whitechapel, crash into every upper-class party in London or bash your way around every seedy gang assembly to find out who the elderly gentleman was and what has happened to Louise, you will. For being a vampire has many perks. And not to take advantage of every single last one of them would be the TRUE blasphemy to whoever your maker is, (if such an entity exists). [[And you’re only getting started.]]

[[Midday, bank of Thames.]]

You have passed out slumped over a table of a roadside diner, in others’ eyes a pale young man still naive to the endearing effects of hangover, thus only worthy of a few quick smirks at best. But to you this is something very different. The sun’s bearing down on you, in all its glaring roar and fury- and while before it has bothered you none- only an overly eager sunny day- today you feel abnormally repulsed by its light, wishing only to retreat further into the sweet cool shades of the diner, but you stay where you are, meeting the eyes of the hostess, [[already indignant of you overstaying your welcome and staining her tablecloth with a profuse ammount of slobber.]]

You feel too weak to want to initiate a full-on confrontation with your amicable fellow Londoners, even with the vampire you are- but where does it come from? The gunshot? You have already recovered from it. Your skin is all smooth to the touch where you’ve been hit- [[even the little depression is gone.]]

You’re sick at heart not knowing Louise’s whereabouts? You are, but it shouldn’t explain for sprawling like an average drunkard in the middle of the day, this almost pathological aversion to sunlight. It must be you’ve had a while before feeding. But again the sun sits high in the sky, and it has been a long-standing joke of yours to not drink before dusk- no, your hunts commence after dark, and no need to alert the entire London of your presence, [[what you truly are just yet.]]

In fact, you savor your secret identity, how you’re secretly vastly powerful than what already meets the eye. Makes possible the circumstance where you are challenged by a few hot street youth ignorant of your full might and leave them sitting dazed and confused in the gutter, holding their broken scalp or twisted ankle, as you already stride away, the gaze of starstruck hookers following your every move. No, much more fun when you’re the only one aware of what you are capable of and what you are made up of in the whole of London, other than Louise. [[Where is she?]]

You’ve long known her to have amassed herself quite a small fortune from her work, enough to quit the business once and for all and live out the rest of her days quite comfortably in a dainty little cottage in the suburbs or something. In fact you’ve been known to encourage her to do so, [[get herself away from all these lousy Londoners who’ve done little to deserve a night with her.]]

But Louise is too goddamn caring a soul to want to forever remove herself from these men’s lives. The two hours of bliss and happiness (to your knowledge way less in most cases) that she can provide is a force of good, perhaps one of the few, in the day-to-day trenches of London’s miserable dock workers and factory men, chimney sweeps and sweatshop tailors, mudlarks who scour the filthy, reeking cesspit that is the Thames for valuables and costermongers hawking cheap fruit and fish on the streets, constantly fearing the gang or corrupt policemen. No, she will hear none of it, once the girl got it in her head that she’s saving them in a small way, [[redeeming their irredeemable, forsaken souls or something.]]

But now perhaps that is exactly what Louise has done, gathering up all her money and moving out of Whitechapel, to some nicer neighborhood in the countryside where she can cut people’s hair or run a little sheep farm, go off to the village fair on the weekends and stun the provincial townfolk with how pretty she can be and be wooed by unsophisticated peasant boys or apprentice masons, [[make someone really happy with the promise of a smile or the favor of accepting a wild daisy newly plucked from the roadside.]]

Yes, perhaps. But you refuse to believe that Louise has gone off without telling you, the vampire boy far more handsome and refined than the lot of her usual patronage, who alone has the good sense to bring her gifts god only knows from where he lifts them- bottles of fine lavender perfume, silk handkerchiefs soft as sin, chocolates and silver bracelets worthy of a debutante on her first ball (which Louise may never be)- who also routinely feed on her blood, bite so gently into her arm, not rushing and always licking clean the blood that flows out, careful not to drain her too much and making her faint the next day, the tiny toothmarks he leaves no more perceptible than a hickey, [[which he would place right alongside where he drank from a moment ago.]]

No, if Louise is to leave London semi-permanently one day, she would’ve told you beforehand. Or perhaps you overestimate the value of your relationship, perhaps to Louise you are no different than all her johns. Yes she will keep your rather unusual secret and spread her legs for you and give you her slender arm to suck on. But are you really close as to justify her letting you in on her next moves, especially where at the top of the line she would be looking for a clean cut from her past life, which includes you in every way imaginable. Perhaps it wasn’t a lapse in thought if she just up and left one morning and leave you sitting forlornly on your own several hours later, [[lamenting your lost time together.]]

The sun seems to glare all the brighter at the thought, and you have to squint harder at its reflection in the Thames. [[1, “Damn her! If that’s what happened Louise can have her cozy little cottage in the suburbs if she didn’t even think to tell me what’s up next, if she really thinks so little of our relationship together.” You decide to press the harsh-looking hostess for another glass of gin and spend the rest of your day getting yourself another girl even finer-looking than Louise, even as you realize that is one hell of a task to put yourself to, if not downright impossible.]] [[2, You sink even deeper into your seat, but then shake yourself some and sit up straighter. You decide to press the harsh-looking hostess for another glass of gin and spend the rest of your day wandering around London, wallowing in self-pity and feelings of abandonment. And when night falls you will take it all out on some fine-looking young dandy who looks to have spent his day gallivanting among women who will be forever outshined by the mere memory of Louise.]] [[3, Then it occurs to you that you may only be hallucinating about some fantasy circumstance and that it is not what happened at all- you only WISH that for once Louise is capable of such let-downs, or such… betrayal. There may be something else going on. Perhaps she was kidnapped by one of her clients delirious on possessing her. You sit up straighter all at once. You decide to press the harsh-looking hostess for another glass of gin and spend the rest of your day wandering around London, contemplating this likelihood and a possible clue as to her current whereabouts.]]

Night seems to fall fast when you are so deep in thought like that, and when it comes you feel much more refreshed, and hungry for fresh blood. You know no better place than Whitechapel to pick off ideal targets, either just coming out of a brothel with a lighter mind and purse, or hiding in a shadow waiting for one as such, another hunter but for coins and exploits. You are determined to right the wrong you suffered last night and all day today, that old man who shot you and the hot stuffy weather you’ve had to suffer while contemplating a lost love. This is your moment to prove to the world and yourself what you’re capable of. [[This is your moment to show off just how much a vampire you can be.]]

When you get to Whitechapel a thin mist has sprung up again, not unlike the weather the night before. In fact it is quite exactly the weather of last night. You feel a strange unease creeping up on you, and clench your fists harder. Before long you spot yourself a victim, a man in his forties who looks to be a well-to-do business owner slumming it for the night in some cheap sporting house, and you are enraged at the thought of him next to a girl who has not Louise’s looks and body but her lithe build, [[and you decide he would do both to quiet your thirst and to vent off your frustration on.]]

But then a shrill cry pierces through the air, turning the man’s head sharply backwards and he looks past you, alarmed and made younger in that moment, towards the source of it, [[while utter unaware of your intention towards him.]]

You look back as well, confused. The cry sounds to be from a woman and there is shock and terror in it that makes the evening streets feel more sinister even for you. Your target has seemingly decided that whatever it is it is no business of his, [[and you see him retreating in the opposite direction.]]

[[“Coward,” you mutter under your breath, and despite your thirst you hurry towards where the cry comes from.]]

A small crowd has already gathered around the body. It is a young woman and for one godforbidden moment you think Louise and step up harshly, your eyes wide and shoulders raised, but her hair is stringy and unkempt, her features plain and frame stout with none of Louise’s grace. She seems to have fallen into a peaceful nap right in the middle of the street, but her complexion is so pale even under the dim yellow streetlamps that anyone will easily recognize her as one of the dead. What doesn’t seem to make sense is that there is no blood or sign of trauma anywhere near or on her, no pool of dark red liquid staining the cobblestones beneath her head or a dagger buried deep into her belly, its handle pointing up as if daring one of the onlookers to pull it out. [[No, she seems to have just, slipped away, having asked an amateur street artist to paint her face and arms a ghostly chalk white.]]

To the other folks who’ve gathered for this sickly sight, clutching their clothes instinctively, hands half raised to their open mouths, this body of the young woman in its current state only leaves them none the wiser and casting blind guesses everywhere. But for you it’s as if a gigantic bell has been sounded and in its thunderous ringing you’re brought back to your very first hunt, where you had not the control nor the discretion to not drain your mark of their life’s blood completely and you evetually pushed yourself away from them, the front of your shirt drenched in blood and you were similarly confronted with this very sight, the chalky boney color of your victim’s skin, the slightly more exposed bone structure of their face, and the utter lack of a sign of trauma from everywhere on the body, [[unless perhaps examined with a microscope and at which you may find delicately subtle toothmarks on the wrist and the neck.]]

If you hadn’t stayed mostly sober during the day, your first thought would probably go to yourself as the perpetrator. But despite the three glasses of gin at that riverside diner you were fully aware and conscious of your day’s activities. The urge to go down on all fours in front of the body and quench your thirst with it now, where it won’t do the person no harm if you shall relieve her of some of those life juices which they will never have the use of again, [[also confirmed to you that you have not fed for some time.]]

Another vampire? You stand swaying a little bit in the crowd that has gathered around the body, your true identity concealed among the terrified yet morbidly curious crowd. You feel both elated and alarmed at the possibility of having a KIN in this town, [[another devourer of blood who will be uniquely positioned to understand your urges and a loneliness even Louise cannot expel.|The End of Vein]]

You have come to the end of Vein. Just kidding. You have come to the end of whatever I've managed to write about Vein, or care to, perhaps. Since I have now put this project indefinitely on hold with no apparent plan to finish it, which, by my imagination, has still QUITE a long way to go, and I just don't feel motivated enough for it anymore. Therefore my apologies, and sincere gratitude to you, dear reader, if you've truly bothered with my little project here for as long as to have come this far. - The Second Moon March 8th, 8:40 AM, 2025. [[Bonus Material]]

[[Once upon a time, in ancient China.]]

[[The emperor has just died, leaving this throne empty and his two sons vying for succession.]]

Being the older brother and the crown prince, you are preordained to take your father’s throne. But having grown up with your little brother, you know he’s not the type to live under anyone else, especially since the early years of conquest, [[where it was he who secured key victories against the enemies.]]

Now a significant portion of the nation has quietly rallied themselves behind your brother, including all of the soldiers who’ve previously fought under his command. You’ve long been aware of this development, and of the people’s belief that your brother, despite being younger than you, is the greater military leader and [[the better candidate for the throne.]]

But you remember that one afternoon, your father called you to his garden. [[The birds were chirping and the autumn sunlight made everything cozy and warm.]]

He said to you as you stood before his sick bed, both of you knowing that you wouldn’t share many a conversation like this, “Son, look after your brother once you become the emperor. He is smart and able to get men to follow him easily; but he is also rash and driven by a fire of ambition. One day he may attempt to rise above his station. You must do all you can to prevent a civil war in this country. It will be hard, [[but consider that the greatest favor you can do for my memory.”]]

You know you should have long throttled any possibility of your brother raising an army for his own cause once your father passes. But whenever you see him in court, gallant and young and so full of vigor, you are reminded of him playing by your side as a child, you cupping a tadpole in your palms for him since his arms couldn’t reach that far, his eyes shining with awe at the little creature circling in that small pool of water, [[and you hauling him out of the pond once he fell in, eager to catch one for himself.]]

“No, my brother would never do me harm,” so you say to yourself before sleep. [[Tomorrow you are to become the new emperor.]]

You are woken by the sound of screams. Grabbing your sword, you charge out of the room. You went to sleep on a peaceful evening with a large round moon high in the sky. Now a fiery red has taken over and strong winds tug at your loose clothing, [[making you reach out your hand for balance.]]

You see soldiers fleeing in every direction, with complete ignorance of your existence. A trail of dark blood right in front of you guides your eyes toward a colossal rampart tower. At the top of which, a formidably large red shadow holds court, [[flying banners made of choking black smoke.]]

Your heart almost jumps out at the sight of the shadow, which seems to engulf the entire sky and whose abysmal shape brings to mind the most horrible of truths, [[and the most horrific of crimes.]]

Nevertheless, you make yourself unsheathe your sword in one go, which shines against the darkness of the night. It is your father’s sword, his last gift to you as the future sovereign of the nation. You grip the handle harder at the thought, your resolve returning. [[You rush towards the tower.]]

When you get to the top, breathless from the long climb, you see two black-clad figures lying in front of you, their tight combat gears torn to pieces, leaving deep crimson gashes in their place. Your brother is bound from hand to foot, his handsome features bruised so badly he could only see through narrow slits of his eyes. He struggled to raise his head on hearing your footsteps, his dark eyes meeting yours, [[then lowered his head slowly back down.]]

[[The Demon appears between the two of you, his eyes red, his mouth twisted into a smile.]]

You charge, [[swinging the blade down from overhead in a savage round arc, putting all your force behind it;]]

[[driving the sword forward in a fierce thrust right at the Demon’s heart;]]

[[slashing the sword across in a brutal, sweeping strike, certain you will cut the Demon in half.]]

These three moves form the very best of your training, yet you do not hear a satisfying crash with the bones or gush of the blood. In fact, in the fury of the action you see only a blurry dark shape transporting itself from in front of you, [[and utterly no sound was made.]]

You have now brought yourself to where your brother stands, his shoulders sagged and his posture defeated. [[You move to cut him clean from the ropes.]]

[[“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the Demon says behind you with a mocking tone.]]

You turn your head, fast, and raise your eyes to where he floats high in the night sky, a blood moon of an impossible size at his back, [[the all-consuming reddish glow stopping your breath for what seems like forever.]]

[[“‘No, my brother would never do me harm,’” he produces with a sickly sweet falsetto.]]

“Then who sent those two assassins the night of your coronation, with orders to slit the throat of the crown prince in his sleep?” [[the Demon gestures towards the two bodies in stealth gear you saw before.]]

[[You look to your brother, his eyes lowered, refusing to meet yours.]]

“Who summoned the largest army in the nation beneath his sweet brother’s palace walls? Who already had the crown delivered to him in person, knowing that his brother would never have the chance to wear it? And who is the fool that allowed this mutiny to happen, despite every chance under the sun to smother it in its cradles? [[Look behind you, my prince, and see for yourself the best attention of your own kin!”]]

You were too caught up to notice this before, but there it is, under the walls of your capital, of your palace, one hundred thousand little campfires stretching from mountain to coast, completely encircling the capital perimeters. The banner they all fly, well, however remote, [[you’d recognize your little brother’s yellow dragon flag anywhere.]]

[[The Demon transports himself again, landing silently next to the two of you. You don’t even flinch at his approach.]]

“I’m sure you realize by now one of you has to die tonight. You two tigers are too fierce to occupy the same mountain. And since you are the crown prince of this country I shall hand the choice to you. Kill your brother, or be killed. [[If you don’t make a choice oh will I feed on your entire country.”]]

“Remember, if you decide to kill your brother here I want you to drink on his traitor’s blood and suck him dry, every last drop of it. If you yield your own life and your throne, which I don’t think you will do, he shall do the same for you. Make your decision, my prince.” [[1, Kill your brother, secure your throne, and FEED on his treacherous blood.]] [[2, Yield your throne and life to your brother. Refuse to slay your own kin and prevent any further bloodshed.]] [[3, Don’t make a choice. Let the Demon sweep away your country.]]

You remember the leaves of your father’s garden, the day he summoned you. The servants would come and sweep them away but then the autumn wind would just bring more onto the floor of the corridor, incessantly. Towards the end of it your father said to the servant, “Leave it.” And he looked to you, [[“Will you promise me this, son?”]]

“No.” Your brother must have sensed your decision, and for the first time in your life you see something crumble from inside of him. His jaw goes slack, and he looks at you with wide eyes consumed with fear. [[Never before does he look more like a little boy.]]

You remember the leaves of your father’s garden, the day he summoned you. The servants would come and sweep them away but then the autumn wind would just bring more onto the floor of the corridor, incessantly. Towards the end of it your father said to the servant, “Leave it.” [[Then his gaze turned to you, “Will you promise me this, son?”]]

You look down on the sword in your hand, which accompanied your father on many battles. [[You lay it onto your brother’s shoulder, who kneels in front of you in shackles.]]

“I had faith in you. I could’ve long stopped this, little brother, but I never acted. I had the best faith in you and I was betrayed for it,” you pronounce these words, [[your voice low and you had to swallow your spit twice during the sentence.]]

[[At this your brother raises his head, and gives you a sneer the ferocity of which you have never seen, in anyone.]]

“Exactly, big brother, what kind of a future ruler of the country would allow an army to be assembled right underneath his nose but never say a word? You are WEAK, and I am the better man for the throne. [[The ENTIRE nation knows it.”]]

“I didn’t want to turn on my own family, but my men said to me, ‘Raise your army nonetheless. If your brother is strong he will stop you and prove himself the rightful ruler. If not you will know him weak in his leniency, and this country wasn’t born out of leniency.’ I wanted you to stop me, big brother. I wanted you to cut me down. [[But every day my army would grow and I had to witness your inaction and hear them laugh at your name.”]]

“And there you were, sleeping peacefully in bed the night of your coronation while an army one hundred thousand strong waits beneath these very walls. I prayed that you had the strength to strike down my two assassins, and turn things back into your favor. But if not for this—” your brother turns his gaze, full of venom, to the Demon, who smirks back in kind, “— creature, you would be dead now, without ever suspecting your demise. And the country will know of its rightful, worthy leader. [[So strike me down now, brother, and I pray in our father’s memory that you know how to act like an emperor.”]]

[[“I trusted you,” you say, “That’s why I never acted… Brother.”]]

[[You look to the heavens, take one final deep breath, grip your sword, and swing it down hard.]]

You wake up at the end of the world. The Demon is there, looking at you intently, his sharp teeth bare, waiting for you to take in the situation. The sun sets far off into the horizon, painting the world a heart-rending red. A sea of blood is pounding the coast, incessantly. Behind you 50 million dead bodies and stock. [[Your brother lies across your legs, infinitely vulnerable in his nakedness, his eyes long closed.]]

A smile breaks across the Demon’s face, cracking it in half. You see thin red powder falling from his cheeks. [[It is dried blood accumulated over a thousand years' span.]]

“I knew you would take this path. You have proven yourself to be stronger than your brother would have believed. But I still killed all your people. You know why? Because I pity you, my prince, so I have done you a favor! HAHAHAHAHA!” The Demon throws back his head for a truly hearty laugh that almost infects you with its fever. He then bends to look you in the eyes, his expression serious. [[There is something he desperately needs you to understand.]]

“For you are a VAMPIRE now, my prince. Do you know what that is? A VAMPIRE is a creature destined to live forever and drain this world of man of its life's force, which means sucking them dry, YES! And if your people were still alive, you’d kill them one by one and feed on their blood anyway. But now I have saved you a whole lot of trouble. All you need to do is,” he puts a hand under your brother’s head, and almost gently, holds it up for your convenience, “sink those pearly teeth of yours into these very VEINS, and fulfill your new destiny. [[A bloody, glorious, IMPERIAl destiny given to you by the demon himself. How about that?”]]

“No one is left of your country, of your bloodline now, my prince. [[So make it easier for yourself, and go on and FEEEEED.”]]

So you drink, deep. Your brother’s flaccid wrist held up to your chin. When you raise your head, the sea and sky have darkened; [[your eyes have succeeded all the red in the world.]]

[[“Good,” the Demon says.]]

You look down on the sword in your hand, which accompanied your father on many battles. You lay it onto your left palm and hold it up with both hands over your head. Before you lower your head, [[you sense the shift of a light in your brother’s eyes.]]

“Well, well, well, will you just look at that? Caring older brother overlooks younger brother’s treachery and hands the entire country to him, no questions asked. The only casualty: two lame assassins slain at the hands of one old demon. If that’s what your little heart desires I have no more to say. Just remember, little brother, suck his blood dry or I shall come back for the both of you,” [[with that the demon is gone.]]

“I will take that, big brother,” his restraints unleashed, and with seemingly new-found vigor, [[your brother relieves you of your father’s sword, almost gently, and punctures your heart with it.]]

As you fall backwards, your brother catches you with strong arms, and you are reminded of how when he was little, you used to carry him across palace grounds, his little boy snores humming in your ear, his drool dampening your shoulder, [[while the maids and noble consorts alike looked on with approval.]]

“Sorry brother, but he did order me to drink on your blood. We really do want to prevent the likes of him returning to this city, don’t we? [[I’m sure you understand.”]]

[[“Oh, by the way, I shall take care of all that our father built, don’t you worry.”]]

With that, your brother leans in and you can feel his teeth and hot breath on your throat. Your last sight before fading away is one you’ve never seen before- a look of utmost deviousness in his eyes. His are your father’s eyes, [[and your only hope is you’ve done something that would please your father’s immortal soul.]]

The Demon shouts to you: “You want to save your world without bloodshed? Well, here it is. Here you go. You want your brother to be the emperor? I have him right here. You can crown him the Lord of Corpses! You want to be the martyr? You think it’s that easy? You want to please your dying daddy? No! NOOOOOOOO!” He blinks to right in front of you, bends to squeeze your skull hard between dark red, skinless hands, his forehead pushed against yours, and screams into your eyes. “I won’t let you have it that easy! You can’t escape suffering from my hands! I am the DEMON, and I will have you—” He seems to collect himself, takes several big breaths, [[and looks down at your fallen kin.]]

“Your brother was the first VAMPIRE, for he slayed you for power and drank from your blood. You shall be the second vampire, doomed to plague the world for eternity in an insatiable lust for life’s juice. So go on,” the Demon seems almost tired at this, [[a melancholy too enormous to dissolve entering his eyes.]]

[[“Feed on his blood, like you never chose to, and fulfill your new destiny.”]]

So you drink, deep. Your brother’s flaccid wrist held up to your chin. When you raise your head, the sea and sky have darkened; [[your eyes have succeeded all the red in the world.|]]

Below is a little bit of bonus material I've cooked up intended to incorporate into the main game as a back story. The beginning of it might have you convinced otherwise, but it is indeed intended for Vein. And I am aware that Vein is more like a novel than a game, where most of the chocies, the few times they were handed out to the player, do not lead to too diversified a narrative. But in this back story I do have some kind of a branching narrative written. Thanks again. Until next time. [[Move on to Vein backstory 1]]

[[“Good,” the Demon says.]]

Even the Demon looks shocked, “That was a choice I gave, to push you to choose the others. Are you sure, my prince?” he bends to your level, [[and starts brushing your hair aside gently.]]

When you give him no response, the Demon’s face hardens, eyes narrowing into sharp slits dark as an abyss. He moves his hand, nails first, with lightning speed over your brother’s neck, and you see his mouth open sharply, eyes bulge out in shock, then a blood mist blossoms over the two of you. [[Another flash of the Demon’s hand and your own mouth drops open, instinctively drawing your last breath.]]

[[With your last sight you see the Demon walk towards the bloody sunset, trudging with effort through a sea of red.]]

[[“Let’s do this again.”]]

[[The Demon transports himself again, landing silently next to the two of you. You don’t even flinch at his approach.|]]

That's the end of Vein backstory 1. I think either I will never finish Vein, or it will be some time before I come back to it. I hope you enjoyed this story, whatever state it is in now. Thanks. - The Second Moon [[Move on to Vein backstory 2]] (Yes, there is another back story, and a third one. It would appear I've spent as much time on my back stories as my main plotline, but that is just as well. As unlikely as anybody will get to here, I will put them here just for the sake of me having written the darn thing at all.)

By now I have fed on the blood of many, many people. Men, women. Even children. Like the Demon said my lust for life’s juice is insatiable, my own existence indestructible. Most of the time I move away quickly after a strike, not wanting to confront the entire village, tribe, or country, and have to massacre and put an end to someone else’s bloodline. [[But sometimes, that is exactly what I do…]]

I pity my little brother now. For he who died young would have no way to understand what I have become, and what I have SEEN in these long years of depravity. For his pursuit of power, rising first out of a practicality, an obligation, even, to plant himself, a mightier general and a fiercer hand, on the throne of China, although indeed tainted by ambition in the process, is still of a justifiable and understandable struggle. There are men that I’ve run across who want power for power’s sake, and worse still, who want to capture power, only to have it scatter into the wind, ownerless and unbridled, to feed back into a vicious cycle, almost as an offering, to an unseen yet omnipresent entity, [[one that I have known well.]]

The desert that the Demon resides in is an arid place, its vastness inspiring me to think if I bury myself beneath its sand, will I sink for eternity and not be a plague to anyone anymore? But forgive me, brother, father, I cannot bear to imagine such an existence, to be swallowed up by darkness, my lungs filled with sand, forever on suffocating yet still existing, crushed beneath the entire weight of the world, forgotten and helpless. So I lift my foot from the sand after only a few seconds, [[flinching at the next wave of wind scattering a light shower of gold all around me, and carry on.]]

HE did not make me trek for long, both of us knowing that if he wanted to, he could hide the tower away from me till the end of the universe. I find him withering away on a throne of yew, the universal symbol of death, its spires rising like deadman’s shins. He looks like a small, old man now: shoulder raised to one side in a shriveled frame; his eyelashes all dropped away, greyish eyeballs lumbering to move in a watery swell. [[Whereas I have retained my youth.]]

“Hello, my prince,” the Demon croaks, his once liquid voice now as dry as sand, “or whatsoever name you use now. [[I know you’ve taken on many since we parted.”]]

“I also see my blessing has sustained,” he manages to smile, revealing rotten gums, “Alas, if only I could grant myself powers as such. Oh, oh no, wait,” his sneering draws you back right to that night, despite his decline, “I don’t want to be a thousand-year-old leech forever at odds with his own, well, inclinations.” His wide, delirious, toothless grin is truly a terrible sight. [[I let my hands drop free, unleashing my long, razor-sharp nails.]]

“Yes, you’ve succeeded those too. Well, go on then. Kill the old demon. You will be the most powerful creature in the world. Isn’t that something? [[Like I promised you, my prince, a glorious, glorious destiny.”]]

I grab him singlehandedly by the throat, and lift him easily into the air. The Demon feels as hallow and light as an old bone, its marrow already sucked dry, its tissue long disintegrated. Despite himself, he starts kicking around, tugging at my hand, squirming like an earthworm pinched between two fingers. Mortified that he should be reduced to such a station, my old warden, creator, slaver meets my eyes: mercy, as I can never imagine him to utter. SPARE ME, he conveys with begging eyes. Or rather he says: KILL ME. End this. [[1, Grant the Demon his wish.]] [[2, Force him to live out the rest of his days remembering this moment, that he begged you to give him a proper end.]]

I bring his neck close to my face. His skinny arms pushing at my face weakly, his twisted legs kicking at my chest. Disgusted, I sink my teeth in, and bite off a thick mouthful of ash. His dark body is already cracking apart, falling into a thousand pieces. I throw the carcass away. It hits a wall and takes the wall down with it. I take one last look at his throne, his last place on earth, then stride out of his crumbling tower. The sand has already consumed it once I reach the top of the dune. [[Move on to Vein backstory 3]]

I throw him, skinny limbs and all, back onto his throne made of deadwood. Take one final look into his eyes, then strike out of his last place on earth. I hear his voice behind me, “Well done, my prince. I see I have gotten to you after all…” I turn my head at that last sentence. The Demon is already dead in his throne, his mouth gaping wide open, his head leaning backwards; his dark body cracking apart, falling into a thousand pieces. At a sign the tower starts crumbling apart. When I reach the top of the dune the sand has already consumed it all. [[Move on to Vein backstory 3]]

[[My prince? My prince?]]

[[Who’s there?! Who’s talking?!]]

It’s me, my prince. Now please don’t go crazy. That will do no good for the both of us. No good at all. I promise you, my prince: [[you are not out of your mind.]]

YOU! Arghhhhhhhhh! WHY? Why can I hear you in my head? [[GET OUT OF MY HEAD!]]

[[(Silence)]]

[[(Heavy breathing)]]

[[(Silence)|]]

[[(Heavy breathing)|]]

[[Have you calmed down now, my prince?]]

[[(slow, deliberate intake of breath)... What do you want?]]

Yes! I will try to be brief, my prince. I am he who gave you this life, remember, a long time ago? [[I have stayed with you and been looking over your shoulder, so to speak.]]

I see this power has taken to you, and you’ve been running the world with blood, unscrupulously, if I may be so bold, heh heh. That’s good. That’s good. Um. I didn’t mean to disturb you in your sleep. You’ve had a long day massacring that town. Yes. I see that. Good work, my prince, good work. But I’ve only just come up now to let you know, that there is something you need to understand, and by understanding which you may be even more, shall we say, motivated, to do your good deeds. [[Even though you seem pretty motivated already. Hehe.]]

[[(low growl)]]

Yes, my prince. You’re tired. I know. I shan’t be any longer. [[But it is important that my prince understands…]]

Understand WHAT?! [[Ahhhh! Ughhhhh! (grunts of pain)]]

This PAIN! My PRINCE. You need to understand this pain! Where it all got started! Now quiet down, you big dumb blood-sucking idiot, [[and listen to your maker speak!]]

Now where was I? Yes. Shut up! Now… A long time ago, I was a human just like you, except I wasn’t. I was a god! A minor god, but a god still! [[And I looked over people…]]

One day this man came to me. He said, “My lord, there has been a great famine in my country, and it hasn’t rained for weeks. We have no food, no water. [[I pray that you give us something to live on.”]]

But being a minor god in heaven, agriculture and weather control were not in my jurisdiction. You know what WAS in my jurisdiction? Horses! Heavenly steeds. I handled cleaning over their saddles and harnesses after bigger gods’ rides. I was always PRAYING, to whomever would listen, that I would become a bigger god one day, [[and have someone else see to my needs.]]

But of course I couldn’t give the man heavenly horsemeat to eat, and it didn’t occur to me then to offer him heavenly horse piss to drink. [[Which, come to think now, in his state of desperation he’d have probably taken all the divine horsely liquid I could throw his way.]]

So you know what I did? You know what I did? I’d heard of a story of a bigger god cutting off his own meat to feed an eagle or something, all in the name of justice. So I thought, [[“Hmm, maybe that’s what it takes to become a bigger god.”]]

So I gave the man permission to feed on me, to feed off of me. My blood to quench his thirst. [[My flesh to fill his belly.]]

He feasted for three days and picked me clean. He even took home some of my carcass, held together in my skin. Yes, gross. Wait, not gross, not to you. Anyway, I was so relieved. My spirit lingered, you see. [[And I saw all of this, disembodied as I was.]]

So the ghost that was I went to the biggest god of them all, right? [[And I asked him to elevate me to a bigger god, and give me my body back.]]

The entire court went stone quiet once I voiced my request. You could literally hear if a hairpin were to drop from a goddess’ braids. [[Oh is that a cliche? Never mind.]]

Now I can hear your brain working in there, the wheels turning, the gears clicking into place. The big god made the man a VAMPIRE, right? To feed on the blood and flesh of a god, even a minor one, is unforgivable. So if he likes to eat so much let him eat all of humanity. Let him drink from the veins of his closest kin. Horrified at his own action but unable to stop. For eternity, right? [[No.]]

He made ME a vampire. I was to wander around the earth, subject all those I met to the goriest fate imaginable, having their life’s juice sucked empty while they were fully conscious, watching their life slip away from them drop by drop. And why? It was because the man, hollow cheeks and exposed ribs and all, did not even think before he sank his teeth in me. At that moment his entire life’s faith in heaven was forsaken for his own survival. I mean, I could understand the man. After all, what is the greatest boon you can ask of a god, even a minor one? To save your life, right? [[But to the big god it was a violation of all that he’d built.]]

[[So he who lost all his blood to man shall find it all back, over a course of eternity, from man who put greed over faith.]]

Yeah, I know. That’s supposed to be the vampire’s origin story? Pfft. I could’ve cooked up a better one, right? Except I didn’t. And besides, I got rid of the faith factor not long after. Without the gods realizing it, this little vampire became so powerful feeding on the life’s juice of man he could challenge heaven. So I went back and painted the SKY a healthy blood red. [[Turns out gods bleed, same as man, and not one bit the tastier.]]

So you see, my prince, maybe it was destiny you had to kill me too. Don’t we all slay our fathers in the end, one way or another? And you’re wondering to yourself if you can ever get rid of me. TRULY, get rid of me. Worry not. [[Here is a deal for you.]]

I was created to punish men for their greed- to repay that first bite of flesh, that first draught of blood. That was ever the reason for my existence. But I was tired, as I am tired now. I had to find myself a successor, one who knew what man is capable of, one who could be trusted to take on my mantle, and bring hell to the earth. [[And who better than a man betrayed by his own brother to know their true nature, to be turned to this cause?]]

But I had to see you were truly one for destruction, that you really abandoned all mercy for all living things, that no matter what you do, you know your purpose of existence is to kill and make suffer, well perhaps make suffer and then kill, in that order. And you did not disappoint. It was hard for me to make that begging face- I’d not had cause for using it for a very long time. But it was worth it, for you, my prince. Especially now, after I’ve witnessed through your own eyes your means when dealing with humans, and CREATIVITY. An APTITUDE, really, my prince, that convinced me that you were [[born for this.]]

Now, once again I shall give you a choice, but we both know it is one that has no matter. You will be turned to this cause either way. Still, I pity you, even when you cannot pity yourself. Here they are, [[1, Promise me, yes, promise. I don’t need you to swear by this god or that. There are sadly no more left. Promise me you will finish what I’ve begun. And I shall leave you in peace. I promise. I won’t come back. You’d be rid of me. You promise and I promise. If you can’t trust the Devil, or have you thought of me as the Demon, who can you trust, really, on this earth?]] [[2, Don’t promise me. And I will drive the both of us mad by talking in your head. Once we both lose our heads who’s to say which one has control of this body anyway? And it’s the same old business to be performed forever on. Perhaps it is better this way.]] Now, what say you, my prince? Hehe.

[[No.|,,]]

[[I promise.]]

Alright, a prince of good sense. Congratulations. You just got yourself a deal with the Demon. Cross my heart and you cross yours. A farewell message. Actually, [[fuck it.]]

[[(Silence)|tt]]

[[Are you gone?]]

[[How do I know you’re not still back there?]]

Come back! And let me promise to you again! [[Come back!]]

[[(Whimper)]]

[[(ROARRRRRR)]]

That's it. Gee, you've read them all. Gracias! Hope that wasn't too horrible a read, and that the word "read" may not too telling of my game's true nature. In any case, see you next time! Sincerely, The Second Moon

You don’t mean that, my prince. Losing your mind is a horrible business. Being your creator I feel a responsibility for your sanity. Here, choose again. Do [[the right thing]] this time.

[[I promise.]]