Fic: Moon Over Ruined Castle: Gen
Oct. 26th, 2017 01:51 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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holmes_minorRating: Gen
Length: 500
Notes: Vampire!Holmes, Original Canine Character (Barabbas the wolf); poetry: 3 lines of an Italian sonnet; a tanka + 1 line.
Summary: On Warpurgis Night, a vampire makes a discovery.
Author’s Note: This ficlet rose almost fully formed in my head after listening to this Japanese folk song Kojo No Tsuki (Moon Over Ruined Castle) and I recommend a listen to get the full flavour of the setting. This also borrows heavily from Bram Stoker’s short story “Dracula’s Guest” as well as Dracula. For Halloween. For Kinktober Day 25: Smiles/Laughter. For the October prompt: tales of the unexpected.
Over the ruined castle, the moon shone.
Within, a cry rang out.
“I’ve found it!”
Shook from lupine dreams, the black-furred mass lifted its head.
“I’ve found a re-agent which is precipitated by haemoglobin, and by nothing else! Come, Barabbas!”
The wolf padded to table and bidder. The corner of the hall was littered with bottles; the table bristled with retorts, test-
tubes, and a Bunsen burner with its blue flickering flame.
“With this test, hundreds of men now walking the earth would long ago have paid the penalty of their crimes. You remember Samson of New Orleans?”
The wolf woofed his assent and watched the demonstration with eyes no less keen than those of the figure bent over the table.
“How shall we celebrate, Barabbas?”
The wolf whined.
The vampire proclaimed in a sonorous baritone,
“Re-agent fragrant, tell me if you will,
is blood the ruddy culprit-stain? Or shall
I deign to say, ‘Tomato sauce, this pall—!’’
The wolf rolled its eyes and returned to the fire at a slow lope.
“Oh, it is a sad century when a vampire cannot recite a Petrarchan sonnet of his own pen beneath the crumbling remains of his once-stately abode without the incurring the disdain of his cur-partner in undeath!”
The wolf barked.
“Oh, very well,” conceded the vampire. He extended a hand.
“On Walpurgisnacht
moon over ruined castle
in blood, on snow, rache
fiends abound unhallowed ground
minions pinion in delight
on Warpurgis Night.”
“I know, it has one too many lines. And rhymes, but—”
The wolf licked the vampire’s upturned palm, and the vampire petted and scratched the wolf’s shaggy head. Then they strode ‘cross the hall, the black silk train of the vampire’s robe swishing behind them like a dragon tail.
The vampire took up his violin and played a haunting tune.
The wolf howled.
They paused at the thud without the castle.
“Another gargoyle felled,” sighed the vampire.
When the song had ended and even the fullest of moons had dimmed in melancholy, the vampire declared,
“Admirable.”
“Warpurgis Night, Barabbas, and if my nose doesn’t deceive me, the fiends shall soon have more than a bit of snow for their romping.”
The wolf whined.
The vampire glided to the open window and was immediately beset.
The wolf growled and lunged at the chattering swarm.
“Do your feasting elsewhere, you winged excrescence!” shouted the vampire. He swatted at the intruders and the voluminous sleeves of his robe mimicked their graceless flapping.
The bats clipped their feet to the iron chandelier and click-click-click-ed.
“A traveler in the lane? Of all nights! A fool.” The vampire turned to the wolf. “Bring him to me. Alive.”
The vampire stood at the window until the snow was thick about the sill.
Later, he took the small book from the wolf’s mouth and read,
“J. Harker-Watson. As suspected. English. You know, I was English once, Barabbas.”
The wolf licked the vampire’s cheek. The vampire smiled.
And waited for the pack to arrive, well-burdened.
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no subject
Date: 2017-10-26 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-26 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-26 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-26 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-27 01:55 pm (UTC)“Re-agent fragrant, tell me if you will,
is blood the ruddy culprit-stain? Or shall
I deign to say, ‘Tomato sauce, this pall—!’’
“Oh, it is a sad century when a vampire cannot recite a Petrarchan sonnet of his own pen beneath the crumbling remains of his once-stately abode without the incurring the disdain of his cur-partner in undeath!”
They paused at the thud without the castle. “Another gargoyle felled,” sighed the vampire. (^____^)
“Do your feasting elsewhere, you winged excrescence!” shouted the vampire. He swatted at the intruders and the voluminous sleeves of his robe mimicked their graceless flapping.
And waited for the pack to arrive, well-burdened.
And the fact that Watson is renamed 'J. Harker-Watson'. Wonderful stuff ^__^
no subject
Date: 2017-10-27 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-29 04:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-29 06:41 pm (UTC)