\/\/Red, if at all Possible \/\/
“For the last time, Half Note, I do not wish to discuss the ‘intricacies and importance of the crescendo’ within the composition you are creating, nor would I ever wish to do such a thing lest my mind be corrupted with your horrid taste in music. Any musician would be disgusted at the disharmonious arrangement of your arpeggios, as the use of syncopation in your rhythms is absolutely horrid. I find your use of frequent tempo changes to be an assault on good taste and your frequent key changes to be an egregious offense against good music. Now, would you kindly go pester somepony with your pitiful attempts at composition? I’m sure somepony with horrendous tastes will eventually turn up for you to chat with.”
Octavia Four-Strings Melody was as refined a mare as one of the noble ponies that were at Celestia’s side on a daily basis. If she had wanted to, her family had favor enough with the princess that she could have easily spent each day by the regal pony’s side. Of course, Octavia Melody was also a practical mare. She had much better things to do in life than to fiddle-faddle with the politics of Canterlot; she was a performer after all. Her love for both hearing and playing music was what brought her to this particular party in one of the higher-middle class houses in Canterlot for the evening, though after being hounded by the annoying stallion for half the night she was beginning to think it was a mistake even bothering with it at all.
Of course, it only took a perk of her ear, a sip of wine, and a quick glance around the room to remember why she had come. There was absolutely no shortage of the things she enjoyed most in the world: music, wine, and best of all quite a few attractive stallions in the midst of the other attendees. For the umpteenth time that evening however, Octavia found all of the pleasure that the party brought wasn’t enough to outweigh the annoying and outright rude stallion who pushed past and stood directly in front of her again, as if to try and make her stay to listen.
“B-but what about the tierce da picard—“
“You clearly understand the concept of leaving a pony to enjoy a party as much as you understand the concept of tierce da picardie, which is to say not at all. Your piece does not end with a major cadence, but rather a minor cadence, which is in fact the exact opposite of a tierce da picardie.”
“Wh—“
“I am done speaking with you about your composed sheet of compost, Half Note. Kindly bother somepony else before I am forced to have you thrown out of the party.” Octavia smiled a little at the way the he had recoiled at that, thanking her parents for being of noble birth once again. She always hated seeing their looks of barely-concealed disappointment when she declined to attend the dinners that they always hosted in their fancy estate, but she had always found such occasions to be drab, especially since there was a distinct lack of both music and stallions that were somewhat pleasing to the eye. Granted, she knew that it was so that her parents could show off their prize daughter who had so many achievements while only being just a few years into marehood, but considering all the guests were old ponies who could barely walk along with a few gravely unfortunate grandchildren who always ended up rough-housing in the dining hall halfway through dinner, she didn’t regret staying away in the slightest.
With a slight nod at the now-silent composer, Octavia turned around with a hint of a victorious air about her, strolling confidentially through the crowd. Every so often she stopped to listen in to a conversation, perhaps contribute to it a little before excusing herself once again and going to greet another few ponies who had seen that she was of a far higher social standing than they were. Each time she had to do this, Octavia’s urge to roll her eyes grew stronger. Of course, one doesn’t grow up with a high-class family without learning how to suppress that urge at a very young age, especially if your parents are not the kind to simply spoil you because the family was rich.
After staving off another pair of ponies who looked as if they were no older than eighteen with an excuse of having to depart for the restroom, Octavia was stopped in her tracks yet again by a stallion who had been either foolish enough or unfortunate enough to step right into her path. Perhaps a more accurate description would be that she ran headfirst into him because she had been focusing on another pony across the room that looked quite handsome and eye-catching, her glass of wine spilling over onto the unlucky pony’s white coat and staining it a dark, blood-red crimson. For a moment all she could do was stare at the liquid that slowly seeped downwards along the contours of his body, dripping down onto the floor every so often, but then she realized that she had just splashed wine all over some partygoer at a private, high society event. In a flurry of motion she had procured a napkin from a nearby servant and made to clean the mess that she had caused, though her stammered apologies and attempts to wipe away the wine were stopped with a hoof on top of hers.
“That’s quite alright, Miss. I’m sure my coat is very cleanable and that I am capable of cleaning it myself.” The voice was deep and rumbling, but not at all cold. Instead it held a good deal of warmth, amusement and kindness hanging on the words despite the situation. “I won’t have somepony as beautiful as you worrying about such trivial thing.” She looked up to see the chiseled angles of a face that looked as if it had been the face of one of the many statues that were spread throughout the Royal Gardens. He held up a hoof and waved aside her apologies as she made to apologize again, after she had finished her bout of impromptu staring. “No, really, it is perfectly fine.”
The rest of the attendees, upon seeing that there wasn’t any drama or rumors to spread, had gone back to doing what they had been doing before and in a matter of seconds the general vibration of casual conversation began to fill the air alongside the music that floated from the stage. Octavia was jolted out of her trance by the sudden sounds, recoiling slightly from the stallion and looking around at the rest of the party with a small amount of paranoia; from what she could hear the incident wouldn’t be spoken of at other places, given that nopony threw glances at her during their talks. “Oh, at least tell me your name so—“
When she turned back to face the gentlecolt she was met with nothing but air. “Oh damn it all, I was going to ask him over for dinner.” Octavia rarely swore, but it was a sign of how frustrated she was that the word had left her mouth in the first place. She really was fond of handsome stallions, not those grubby, smelly ones that she always had to make do with. After letting out a small, dejected sigh, she turned away from where she had last seen the stallion and made her way to the door. This party in particular was the kind that it would be nearly impossible to find another pony within the crowd unless you happened to cross paths, which would be very unlikely given the sheer size of the estate. Dejected disappointment now plaguing her mind, Octavia nodded at the host and thanked him for the invitation, though he had likely invited her because she would seem a boon to his social standing, before pushing through the door and into the cool night air.
It was dark and cold, with just a hint of moonlight, just how she liked her evenings. The sight was a small pick-me-up, though she was still very disappointed in the fact that she had lost such an amazingly attractive pony. However, the small joy that it brought was swiftly diminished by a certain pony that she had previously had dealings with when he hurried over to her after exiting the party yourself. “Wait, O-Octavia!”
Naturally, as any mare being followed by such an irritating pest, Octavia promptly ignored him and trotted off down the road. After a few minutes of trotting, Half Note had finally gotten the nerve up to speak, though the glare she shot him over her shoulder silenced him again. She didn’t have any worry at all if he would dare try something to stop her here, even if they were now alone and out of sight of the party.
Of course, there’s always a chance at being wrong. Suddenly she felt a hoof grab her back and pull her into the alleyway, practically throwing her into the wall as well. Octavia opened her eyes to see a very angry and wide-eyed Half Note with his hooves on either side of her head, glaring at her with dilated nostrils. “Why… don’t… you… listen to… me!?” A hoof reared back suddenly, as if he were going to strike her.
She never gave him the chance to as she lunged forward. Her fangs pierced his neck without any such dramatics as her front hooves deftly latched onto his back to prevent him from pulling away. Any cry of pain that he made was too weak to carry very far and any attempt at pushing her away was fruitless, the stallion’s attempts growing weaker and weaker with every passing second that Octavia stayed there.
When she was finished, she tightened her hooves on his back until it snapped, tossing the limp body onto the ground without any ceremony. He had already been dead after about a minute, but she got a sense of satisfaction breaking the body of a stallion who was downright unworthy to have ever spoken to her. “Because you’re not worth listening to, nor are you worthy of my time.” Once she dusted off her body and wiped her fangs on the corpse’s coat, Octavia coughed and stepped out into the street to begin walking back to her home.
“Not the meal I would have preferred, but I suppose it will have to do for tonight.”
Silence hung heavily over the alleyway as the echoes of the guard’s armor-covered hoof stomping down faded away. Celestia stared down at the one who stepped in her way so forcefully with eyes that burned with both irritation and urgency. If what she had heard was true, then every second wasted put the entirety of Canterlot at risk. “Step aside, Guard.”
“P-please, Princess, I must insist you don’t come closer.” He was a bold one, that was for sure, though if Celestia had bothered to look down a few inches she’d have seen the poor stallion’s legs shivering in fear. It’s not every day you stop a princess, much less one that could vaporize you instantly if she so chose. Of course, such things were much too barbaric these days; Celestia would have just called over her personal guards to ‘remove’ the pony in front of her if she felt irritated enough. Alas, her compassion was too strong of a feeling to simply ignore. “This is no place for a pony of your stature to be, espe—“
“I’ll be the one to decide that.” She easily stepped around the city watchpony in one smooth motion though she faltered on the next step as the dark pile on the ground suddenly came out of the darkness. It was a typical but grim scene in Canterlot these days, ponies being murdered in the sides of alleyways left and right. Celestia’s hooves clicked as she slowly moved closer, lighting her horn to get a better idea of what the scene looked like. What she saw then nearly made her blood freeze. There wasn’t any blood. The guard nearly jumped out of his skin as she fixed her stare on him. “What did you say happened to this stallion, Guard?”
“W-well when I came here he had… bites on his neck. Two neat holes. It also looked like he was held against his will in a struggle.” The stallion simply shuddered and winced as he glanced down at the body with an expression filled with pained sympathy. “His back was also broken, snapped neatly in two.”
“Was there any blood when you arrived?”
“None, aside from a little on his body around the neck wounds.”
Celestia sighed wearily, another weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. “It is as I feared, then.” Her beautiful mane looked a little dimmer as she sadly shook her head. After a brief, murmured prayer for the deceased pony, she motioned the guard over with a hoof. “Uncover the body, I wish to see with my own eyes what has happened here.”
“Your Majesty, I truly don’t think that you need to see something like this!”
A few seconds of deafening, tense silence followed in the moments after Celestia had stomped her hoof into the cobblestones, sending cracks spider webbing across them and reducing the ones closest to her hoof to dust. “I care not for your ideas of what is proper for me to see or not to see. I have seen thousands dead in my immortal life, more than you will ever see in your short one. Thousands dead at my own command in the wars of old, ones who had given their lives willingly for their kingdom, and had not questioned my intentions in doing so.” Her eyes glowed brightly as she advanced a tiny step towards the guard, emphasizing that last sentence with both her voice and body. “I believe I am perfectly capable of remaining mentally stable at the sight of one dead from murder instead of war.”
“A-Apologies, Princess, I did no—“
“I do not need any apologies, Guard, simply do what I have instructed you to do.” She winced as the pony all but scrambled to comply, wishing she hadn’t kept her voice so harsh for that last bit. She was sure that the poor stallion would end up going to bed and have a few nightmares courtesy of her, perhaps even require some therapy from the pony who offered such services to the Guard. However, Celestia didn’t have time to worry about the repercussions of her actions, if what the report sent to her said was true, there was a much bigger matter to occupy her time.
She turned towards the sky as she heard the rough snaps of binding ropes being cut with a spear tip, offering another prayer for her mother wherever she may be. Faust help us if it’s true. When the sounds of cloth being shifted about had finally been silenced, Celestia allowed herself to look back down into the alleyway, dreading what she might see. “So… it is true.” Her voice was nearly a whisper as she turned away from the vampony victim; it was a shaky whisper to be sure, one that made Celestia hate her own weakness and fear. She slowly trotted out of the alley and stood there at the mouth of it, looking back up at the sky to look at the stars that her sister had brought about. “They are still among us.”
“So it would seem.” The deep, resonant voice of the stallion somehow had the effect of vibrating through ponies, giving off the air that he was wise beyond his years. Granted, he was much wiser than most, even those who have lived for decades before their deaths, but only when it involved his craft. Hunting vamponies was hardly a profession that you could pick up with ease, and one that not many were around to teach any longer. “There was one at the party that you had me attend, which is the reason you had sent me to such a boring event?”
She had to take in a long breath through her nose to not snap at the stallion for being so nonchalant. He may be wise, but he was still little more than a colt by some standards. “Yes, that is exactly why, Brassy Coat.” Celestia had to thank his parents, one day, for naming their child a very apt name. It was beyond her why so many mares had practically thrown themselves at him as he wasn’t charming in the slightest, though she was certain that he did have a charisma that he saved for ponies that he could actually court. After a moment of decidedly tense silence, Celestia turned to him and spoke. “Well?”
If she could have seen beneath the hood of his, Celestia was sure that he’d have been rolling his eyes at her impatience. “Always one for the tedious things, aren’t you Princess?” Her silence made him chuckle again, a hearty laughter that seemed out of place given the situation. “Very well, my report. I already know who it is.” He tossed a folded square of paper in the street, his horn glowing as he brought it back to its original shape.
Celestia’s gaze slowly lowered to the poster, the visage of a well-known Canterlot noble and musician staring right back at her. “How do you know it is her? She is quite a respectable pony here in Canterlot, I’m sure that she would have gained a certain notoriety with actions like murder.”
“The answer for that, Princess, is right there in the alleyway.” Brassy Coat pointed over to the darkened space between the buildings, shaking his head slowly. “You of all ponies should know that incidents like this aren’t investigated deeply by the Guard. She preys upon the lower class because their absence is not at all missed by the nobles nor the ones who bag the bodies like that stallion there.” Another chuckle cut through the silence that hung in the air after his words. As bad as they sounded, there was a harsh truth to those words. Canterlot was a hard place sometimes. “This particular stallion had been bothering this pony all night, and I have reason to believe that he followed her after she left, though it had led to a much different outcome than he had expected. Faust bless him.”
“How do you know it was her though?” Celestia felt like she was grasping at straws here, but there had been far too many innocent ponies killed while the real threats roamed free. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“I am. She had bumped into me during the party, and I could tell she was on the hunt for another to feed from. I fear that she had decided I was to be her meal, but that was before I managed to… disappear.” He shook his head in self-degradation. “If only I had brought my dagger, this would have been all avoided and I’d have been in my loft in the castle, taking a nice bath.”
Celestia had to bite her tongue, literally. The nonchalant attitude of this stallion was nearly stifling. “Very well, I trust you know what to do?”
“Of course I do, that’s why I’m in your service, correct?”
At ridiculously exorbitant costs, yes. “Yes, now go.”
“I’ll have her head on a stick for you, Majesty.”
She watched as the hooded figure disappeared onto the rooftops, shaking her head in irritation. Here ponies were dying and all he could think about was being comfortable in the castle. Celestia sighed another weary sigh, feeling the weights of her kingdom weighing heavily on her shoulders. She hated that she had to have them killed, but there was no other way; vampirism was completely incurable, the only way to stop them was death.
“Canterlot is a hard place sometimes…”
Sunlight flooded into her vision as she snapped her eyes open at the abrupt ending of the dream, gasping as her mind flew back into reality. She lay there for a few moments, staring up at the plainly painted ceiling in a daze. The sound of a twittering bird made her turn and look out of the window in search of the noise, though she simply groaned and pulled the blanket over her head to block out the intruding outside world. Octavia rolled over to even further shun the light, ever so eloquently making another groan as she did so. Of course, the second she finished her movement something sharp jabbed into her side deeply enough that she could feel warm blood trickling out of the wound. "AAAH!"
Naturally, like any living creature, Octavia nearly leapt out of the bed and, also like any creature who was wrapped up in a blanket, promptly spilled onto the floor with a resounding thud. After wriggling out of her cotton prison, she looked down at her side that was now stinging with a constant pain and touched it with a hoof, hissing as she pulled away the tooth that had been stabbing her. A small, irritated sigh left her mouth as she tossed it over her shoulder and gathered up the bedding that she had been tangled in to unceremoniously set in a heap on her mattress. The maid could take care of it anyway, Octavia is sure the sight of blood wasn't too uncommon on her bedding, though the poor old mare had believed it to be from very different reasons than they actually were. After all, she did bring a different good-looking stallion home every week or so.
Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to last night, which only added to her irritation. "I really do despise the fact that my teeth always want to re-grow themselves every single time I eat." Her eyes drifted over to the bed with a look of longing, resigned to remaining fully awake now after being stabbed in the side. "Oh... those few minutes of just curled up underneath the covers in the morning would have been positively heavenly." Octavia huffed and turned away, trotting to the bathroom to go and wash her coat before going downstairs to grab herself something to "eat" so the servants wouldn't be worried about her. "I don't even know why they had to fall out this time; Half Note wasn't even that much of a meal, not any fight in him at all."
As she kicked the door closed behind her with a hoof, Octavia sighed dejectedly to herself. “Now that other stallion, he would have made a very delicious meal. I might have even had a little more fun besides the strictly food part, I am a mare to play with my food after all, despite aaaaall my parents have taught me.” She giggled to herself and gently turned on the water, smiling as she thought of all the fun games she could have had with a stallion like that. The mirror began to fog up as she looked into it, baring her fangs playfully. “A candle-lit dinner, a bottle or two of champagne, a nice dance in the moonlight, oh it just sounds lovely!” Her forehooves above her head, Octavia gently twirled as if she had a stallion spinning her around until she bumped against the tub and slid down into the warm water with a sigh.
Despite the fact that the tub would only really hold one pony, she couldn’t help but imagine that gentlecolt in the tub with his hooves around her in a protective embrace. “Oh and then after even the moon went dark, we’d waltz on back to the room and I’d finally get a nice taste of him.” She bared her fangs again unconsciously, tilting her head back to sink them into the imaginary stallion’s thick neck. “Oh I bet he’d have been delicious too.” The entire scene in her mind was ruined by the sudden taste of soap in her mouth, causing her to sputter and jerk back to the other end of the tub. Octavia, once she had finished brushing her tongue to rid it of the horrid taste, glared accusingly at the bottle of cleansing wash before grabbing it in a hoof and chucking it into the bin in the corner, as nearly all of its contents had leaked out of the two holes she had punctured into its side. “Blegh, I’m glad that everypony’s blood tastes better than soap, at least I am afforded that luxury.” She shuddered delicately at the thought of always having to taste that each time she fed, promptly giggling to herself and grabbing a washcloth to begin and end her bath. There was a lot to do today, after all, though most of it involved tracking down a certain pony from the party last night.
After a quick rinsing and drying off, made faster by the fact that she didn’t keep fantasizing about the stallion because she now associated it with the awful taste that was still in her mouth, Octavia opened the sizable door that led into the rest of the house. It was by her standards just a house, though somepony from a small town like Ponyville would have called it a mansion. She smiled at the thought of having one of those hard working earth pony farmers in her house to have for dinner, such a strong body would have been such fun to overcome. “Tea Cozy, can you prepare some breakfast?”
Her hooves clicked on the marbled staircase as she slowly made her way down, giving the poor old mare some time to get ready and cooking. She had already had to listen to the pony moan to her in tears about how she was getting to old to work and how “Mistress Octavia” should fire her and get a new maid that could work better. Of course, she wouldn’t fire such a loyal and kind mare that wouldn’t have been able to work anyplace else. Despite her uncaring nature for stallions, Octavia still held mares in high regard, though that was likely due to the fact that she couldn’t even hold down a female pony’s blood; it was just too vile-tasting.
She was brought out of her disgusting recollections of when she had tried to feed off of the nearly poisonous blood by the old, wrinkled face of her maid, which Octavia had nearly plowed right into. “Forgive me, Mistress, but did you say ‘breakfast’? I might be an old, useless pony but I can tell that it’s not morning anymore.” Octavia had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at the self-degrading attitude of her maid, though she looked up at the large window above her door to see the sun hanging halfway in the sky, though on the opposite end that it should be. “It’s almost time for supper now, Mistress.”
Octavia blinked once, twice, and a third time before the gears finally managed to click in her mind. “Oh. I must have slept longer than I had thought, then.” She trotted over to the window and watched a few ponies trot by as they went about taking care of their daily business. “Did anything happen while I was asleep?”
“Not very much, Mistress, but the post did come in.” Tea Cozy pointed over to the sealed envelopes with a shaking hoof before turning slowly to walk back into the kitchen, where supper was no doubt already waiting. “I believe there’s another invitation to one of those parties you enjoy, I apologize for looking at it, but it had fell onto the floor open and I couldn’t help but notice it. It was signed awfully strange as well, by a ‘Wine-splashed pony’ or something to that degree. Such strange ways you follow, Mistress, though I suppose I’m just too old and miserable to understand.”
Just as she was about to turn away from the scene outside, a group of well-cut stallions caught her eye and made her nearly drool. Oh the fun she could have had with them, all of them trying frantically to get away or even fight her off but in the end only met their demise with her fangs in their necks. After a moment of staring, Octavia was shaken out of the trance by Tea Cozy’s voice calling to her from the kitchen. “S-Sorry, I dozed off there for a second, Tea Cozy.” After she called back to the maid, Octavia made her way around the various bits of furniture in her living room and poked her head into the kitchen where the older mare was busy stirring some kind of a soup. “What was it you asked?”
“I wasn’t asking anything, Mistress, just pointing out that the party is due to start in just an hour, so if you are going to attend it I would—“ Whatever she had been about to say was cut off by a rather uncharacteristic gasp of Octavia’s, the latter of the two practically galloping up the staircase in order to get ready. “I take it you’re not going to sit in for supper?” The maid’s voice was completely lost on Octavia as she had begun ripping through her almost comically oversized closet in search of an appropriate outfit to wear.
“I’m not going to miss such an opportunity again, I will have a good meal for once, caution be damned.”
“I’m sorry, sir, a pony by the name of ‘Octavia Melody’ has not arrived to the party as of yet, though I will be sure to notify her that you were searching for her when she does arrive, sir.” The servant had to resist the urge to sigh as the stallion before him continued to look at him expectantly, as if he meant for him to do something further. “She is right here on the list of attendees, sir, but you can see here that she hasn’t arrived yet.” He held out the paper for the stallion to see for himself, highlighting where Octavia’s name was on the paper with a tap of his hoof. “I am sure that she hasn’t arrived yet, sir, as I haven’t left my post since the evening began.”
“Very well, please do let her know I’m waiting for her.” Brassy turned away abruptly, sighing to himself as he unceremoniously pushed through a few ponies that were chatting amongst themselves in order to get to the servant carrying the champagne in elegant glasses, though at this point Brassy hardly cared for their beauty, instead choosing to down the contents in one, ungentlemanly gulp before setting it back down on the tray and turning away. “Damn, I would have thought that a party held in the castle itself would be a big enough lure to catch her.” He trotted through another group of mares that were eying him like they wanted to sneak him back to their rooms they had rented for the night, barely caring about the indignant huffs they gave when he went past them without a glance. “I suppose every fish has to wait before biting the hook, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”
“Oh yes, I do agree completely.” He turned to tell off whoever was listening in to his self-conversation though he stopped mid-word when he was confronted by a chalk-white half-mask, a smile on the pony’s lips as she looked up at him. “It’s a dreadful thing when someone you wished to see at your party didn’t show up on time, though I am sure she has her reasons for doing so.” The mare simply giggled and trotted beside him, holding a wineglass that she snagged from a wandering servant that was filled with red wine. “All ladies usually do, my good sir.”
“I wasn’t aware that this was a masquerade ball, Madam, considering I am the host of this party.” Normally, Brassy would have been all smiles and winks for a mare with a body like that but he had bigger things to worry about, like how he was going to catch his prey without her actually being there. The pony didn’t do anything but blink in reaction to his coldness. “I assume the doorman told you much the same?”
“Oh yes, he did, but after I told him my name he let me right through.” He nearly recoiled at the sudden smile she directed up at him; it was almost predatory in a way, much intense so than the stares of the mares he had ignored. “Having connections tend to help out at such things, you know.”
“Connections? You must be a powerful mare then, to have persuaded my servant to let you in without so much as calling me over to ask your name.” He shifted a little uncomfortably as she drew a little closer to him, flashing that same smile again.
“But you already know it, do you not?” She giggled and sipped at the wine again, aggravating him to no end with her games. “After all, if you are the host then you should know all the ponies you had invited, correct?”
“Yes, Yes, I know all those who are here, but with that mask of yours I cannot tell who you are.” He had turned away from her by this point, wishing she would just leave him to his frustration in peace. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on something.” He stopped short when he felt the smooth glass of wine pressing into his chest, the mask-wearing mare looking at him with her penetrating eyes. “What are you doing, Madam?”
“Trying to give you a clue as to who I am.” Her voice was almost singsong as she gently tipped the glass just enough so that the wine was in danger of splashing onto his coat, but not quite enough to make too much of a stain. “I am sure that you can remember this, ‘Wine-splashed Pony’, that is how you signed my invitation, isn’t it?”
He stood there for a moment, blinking stupidly for at least three seconds before his wits were able to amount a significant recovery. “Oh, it’s you!” Brassy promptly changed his entire demeanor, his frown snapping right into a small and his figure straightening to better show off his physique. “Yes, I do in fact know your name, though I’m afraid I never got a chance to give you mine, Octavia.”
She seemed a little taken aback by his use of her name, but like all Canterlot nobles came back from it with a smile of her own. “Of course you didn’t, I wasn’t very surprised about it either. After all, I did ruin your coat and outfit with my little… accident.” She gave a very womanly sort of chuckle, looking up to him with curious eyes. “But I must ask, why in Equestria did you send me an invitation to a party at a place like Canterlot Castle? Aren’t you afraid I’ll end up splashing more wine all over the entire assembly of guests?”
After sharing another chuckle with her, Brassy shook his head and smiled warmly. “Of course not, my dear, I simply was forced into another conversation and wasn’t able to keep conversing with you. Alas, those lower-class nobles always wish to speak with ponies like us to try and magically gain some sort of social standing by holding a conversation with someone higher than they are.” He held out a hoof and dipped down in a small bow, confident that this was in fact the mare he was looking for. That predatory look in her eyes was no lie. “I am Brassy Coat, though you may call me whatever you please.”
He didn’t miss the flash of amusement as she took his hoof and bowed as well, a smile practically splitting her face as she chuckled again. “Pleasure to finally learn your name, Brassy, though I must say I think I prefer ‘Wine-splashed pony’ more.” He shared yet another laugh with her as their eyes met again. “I think that ‘Handsome Wine-splashed Stallion’ is also a very applicable name for you too, Brassy.” Octavia stepped forward slightly, her eyes smoldering as she smiled a seductive smile. “A very applicable name.”
Despite her attempts to bring him into her bedroom, or something of the like, Brassy simply smiled and smoothly stepped back just in time to place his empty glass of champagne onto another passing tray. He knew it would only encourage the vampony, but he knew it was a must if he was to bring her into his room instead. “Well, my dear, I must thank you for that compliment, it’s nice to know that there are still ponies of note that are interested in a stallion like me.”
Brassy actually did recoil as a bit of mirthful laughter coursed through the air, looking quite surprised as Octavia winked at him. “Oh please, Brassy, I have heard the stories of a stallion by your name catching all sorts of mares on his ‘hook’ as it were.” She stepped closer again, placing a hoof on his chest and looking up at him with those almost predatory eyes. “I’m afraid that I’m falling into the ranks of those lucky mares, taken in by your absolute charm and caught by your hook.” The knowing smile that graced her lips was almost mirrored by Brassy’s own.
“Well, my dear, let me say that I am quite interested to hear that you have such an… interest, in me.” He chuckled at how eager she looked, but not for the reasons she would have thought. “Perhaps we might be able to pursue our interests later in the evening?” He had to resist drawing his dagger and stabbing her right there in the middle of the party as she stepped closer again, practically pressing up against him with her chest and putting her mouth against his ear to whisper. As it was, he still shuddered uncomfortably having those fangs he knew where there so close to his neck, but the act must go on until they were in solitude as she was no doubt aware of as well.
“How about we explore our interests now? Nopony would mind your absence at all, Brassy.” Her seductive whisper was almost enough to get him hot under his collar, but he knew it was all just that, a whisper. A hint of what could be, but wouldn’t ever be. She was hunting him, and he knew it.
“Well that is quite an offer; one that even the most stoic of stallions would be hard pressed to refuse to be sure.” He chuckled and lifted her glass to his lips, taking a sip and setting it on another nearby tray. “Very well, follow me, Octavia, and I’ll make sure you won’t regret making it.”
She stared at the mirror blankly, blinking in vain attempts to clear her vision of the drops of blood that continued to drip down from the long cut across her forehead. The rest of her didn’t look much better, splatters of the dark red substance clung to her coat in patches and continued to flow slowly from the dagger wound in her side where she had been stabbed merely minutes ago. Octavia panted as she looked up at her reflection, the mirrored eyes showing her the pain that was gripping her body.
“He put up more of a fight than I was expecting, damn vampony hunter.” She spat out a bit of blood onto the floor, wincing as she felt a searing pain start from her throat and go all the way down to her stomach. “Even went out of his way to put some silver in his blood, bastard. I guess he wasn’t that confident after all.” Her knees hit the ground as another flash of white-hot pain passed through her, making her vision blur and fracture. “I was so sure… that I’d be able… to resist it.” Octavia blinked slowly, trying to refocus her vision on the tiles that were painted red with both her blood and the blood of the pony she fed from.
It was supposed to be a game for her, but now the game has decided she’s played enough.
”Oh my, do continue, Brassy!” Her voice was higher than normal as the stallion leaned down to nibble at her neck, teasing her dreadfully. “I’d love to hear more!” They had been at the teasing for a good ten minutes by this point, re-enacting the story of one of Brassy’s more interesting exploits with another noble that was almost exactly like Octavia except in name and color. “Oh, please continue!”
“And then,” The stallion at her neck moved up to her ear, suddenly clamping down on it roughly with his teeth despite her protests. “I stabbed her in the side because she was a vampony, just like you.” That was when the fog of pleasure was suddenly dispersed by the sudden sensation of her right side being burned by the hottest of fires. She tried to throw the pony off of her, but he had pressed down on top of her body and held a hoof over her mouth so she couldn’t scream. “Should I go on about how deserving of the death she was? How many ponies she had killed before she was finally caught?” He pulled the blade from her side and jabbed it in again, almost shouting by this point. “Or perhaps I should just show you with each stab?”
It was at this point that she had managed to shove him off of her and pull the dagger from her body herself, tossing it across the room out of reach as she glared at the stallion that had just tried to kill her.
She spared a glance for the weapon that lay on the floor just outside of the bathroom, growling weakly as she felt a rage wash through her being, hating herself for letting something like that go unnoticed until it had plunged into her. “I can’t believe that… after five years I’m caught by… the weakest vampony hunter… in existence…” Octavia coughed again, her vision blacking out for a brief moment as she felt more of the silver-infused blood enter her mouth and fill it with the taste of the deadly metal.
”What, are you too weak to kill somepony in a fair fight, Brassy? I thought all stallions liked to follow the code of honor, at the very least.” She limped closer, pain plaguing her every step as she glared at him. “Too much of a coward to face your prey?”
The stallion backed up just as much, keeping the distance equal between them. “I should say the same to you, monster.” He spat off to the side, matching her rage-filled stare with one of his own. “How many have you killed when they were helpless to defend themselves? How many games have you played with them before ending their lives?” His voice really was a shout now as he actually started advancing towards Octavia. “How many ponies have you killed, you monster!?”
He leapt forward without warning, his face contorted in a snarl that soon turned to one filled with agony as she sank her fangs into his neck. As his life passed into the next world, Brassy had pawed at her cheek so he could turn and look at her with his eyes brimming with hatred. “You… deserve… to die.”
“Killed by poisoned blood… how ironic.” She fell to the floor with a thud, a few tears threatening to spill over. “No… I won’t cry…” Her hoof swiftly rubbed at her eyes to clear them again, laying limply by her face after it had finished. There simply wasn’t enough energy left in her body to spare to move it back.
As soon as she lifted her fangs from his neck, Octavia fell to the ground with the corpse that had tumbled from her suddenly limp grasp. Almost instantly her stomach had begun to roll and cramp, pain rumbling in time with her throbbing side with each sudden movement that she made. It was then that she saw the barely healed holes that were in the joints behind his knees. They were needle holes.
He had injected silver into his bloodstream.
She had killed him, but he would end up being the death of her as well. Octavia blinked away another drop of blood and looked at the body in the other room, just barely visible in the low light of the chandelier hanging above. Despite her uncaring attitude towards the mere ponies that she fed on, there was something that was bothering her even now as she lay there dying.
He had said she deserved it, that she was a monster.
Was she?
“Do I deserve to die?”
"Do I...?"
Author's Note
Prereading Credit to: Ledger Allen Pony and Dark Aura
