Post by Elizabeth Moriarty on Nov 18, 2010 7:52:52 GMT -5
(1885: Perfection begins through vicissitude)
London was a filthy place.The streets were filled with common whores that polluted the city and smothered its growth for decades. For centuries Elizabeth had rid England of the men that were a mere reminisce to that of her human husband Paul, but as time progressed Elizabeth had learned that women lacked the morals that kept the family unit a safe and nurturing environment.
Instead of evolving past the constraints of time and expectations of women, they fell into the void of cowering before their husbands or selling their flesh to gain the cheap thrill of feeling special. She'd make them feel special alright. Women who had children needed to be good mummies, unlike her own that had sold her out for the first offer that was given to the woman. The women that lacked children should be the epitome of what a woman was going to be when they were a mummy one day. Graceful, proper, caring and pure, but they weren't.
They needed to be reminded.
Life after Reynold and Emmalee had not been particularly easy for the red-headed woman. No coven wanted anything to do with the vampire woman due to the allegations of her choice "severance" from her creator by killing the man. Some empathized with Elizabeth, but none within those covens approved of her recourse. Had it not been for her sole friend throughout the centuries Monsieur Crowley, Elizabeth's life would have been more than likely worse than it was now. On some occasions she stayed with the vampire whom she had befriended centuries ago when the two had met when the girl princess became queen.
With a shake of her head, her red colored strands cascaded down the length of her back, Elizabeth pushed the idea of what others thought of her out of her mind as she strolled the "slums" of the eastern end of London. There was no particular target in her mind, any would do. Elizabeth had to understand why women willingly allowed themselves to be subjected to such atrocities deemed typical of that by the men in today's society. She saw the sand colored hair of the woman from almost three blocks away as Elizabeth's amber tinted pupils watched the scene unfold. Clothes hanging off her stem in an attempt to lure men to give her mere minutes of satisfaction instead of a lifetime.
They were lucky to have the opportunity afforded to them to fall in love, have children...all of the things that were robbed from Elizabeth when she was a human and then made into what she was now. Certainly Reynold had saved her the mundane of human existence, the life expected from her to live that she wanted nothing of, but at the same time he had taken so much more from her. Robbed her from human opportunities, stole the love she desperately wanted him to give her by giving it to another...a common street whore like the one she was watching now.
With a quick yank of her full length sage colored dress, Elizabeth chased after the woman in her dark brown ankle length boots. Through the centuries she didn't know which was worse; the long trains on dresses to slow one down, or the bustles of today that added so much extra fabric it was almost impossible to not ruin the thing during her 'hunts.' If black weren't such a cliche for vampires, Elizabeth would have owned nothing but black as blood wouldn't be easily seen on the colored material.
What made some women destroy the possibility of having these gifts within their life? Did they lack some sort of characteristics or qualities within themselves? Elizabeth knew not the answer, but she would start finding them tonight; starting with the trollop a few blocks down. Her small feet took her down the blocks, closing the distance between she and the woman. Elizabeth would have to wait until the whore was done with her nightly ritual to begin finding the answers she sought. The man the street walker occupied her time with was of no interest to Elizabeth, though her feelings towards him was one of disgust. No matter how many centuries she had spent trying to figure the insides out of men across all of England, Elizabeth had failed to find any similarities or differences. Perhaps it was time to turn the tables and look at the bigger picture instead of one scene.
(to be continued)
