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Basically in Katrina's realm Gabrielle is a bacchae and the daughter of Bacchus/Dionyssus, God of wine and revelry and going out for a bite. *EG* Xena is Ares' daughter and in my little slice of life, the new goddess of the bacchae. The duo, in their ususal unadulterated forms remain the property of MCA/Universal and Rennaisance Pictures etc. I am merely here for my amusement. I'm not getting any money and I live in a styrofoam box...but I digress!
Xena and Gabrielle are well on their way to becoming lovers and even achieve that somewhere in this ff. *EG* So if u abhor the idea of 2 bacchaes getting hot and heavy FLEE! Run away! Don't look back! Don't look behind you...
All other characters herein remain the exclusive property of moi and may be only used with my written permission and all credit to me and that won't be given unless you catch me in a whimsical mood which isn't likely to happen. *G* *gasp*
Any Xena/Gabrielle backstory from the tv show is only borrowed for a short while to aid me in my nefarious conclusions. Other Greek myths such as the story of Narcissus which has been opened to my own rather twisted interpretation, remain the property of the ages. But the legend of 'Rose' and her Vampyres is my own fabrication and as such is all MINE. 'Vampaes' are also a product of my own overactive imagination for if they really do exist, we should all be in hiding rather than discussing such matters of copyright. *G*
But now, switch off the lights, lock the doors, wonder how you're going to read my story in the dark, hastily light some candles, make scary faces in the mirror and discover the true fate of the warrior and the bard and that their destiny is yet to be fulfilled and lies hidden somewhere in OUR present...
Copyright to badbard 1999
Questions, comments, praise, flowers, chocolates, mere trifles, good vibes and constructive criticism send to firstname.lastname@example.org. Death threats, hate mail, rotten fruit, messages about future burnings taking place in Tartarus and lists of unimaginative obscenities send to email@example.com. I hope u follow that advice. I really do. *VEG*
Her nostrils flared slightly as her red tongue flickered out to taste the air. "A bacchae!" she concluded with keen distaste. To Jazmyn, bacchae were foul and loathsome creatures, relics of a dead age, with no meaningful part to play in the present. Her frigid slate-grey eyes fixed unblinking on the portion of wall she instinctively knew the bacchae would smash through in little under ten minutes. To one as ageless as this Vampyre, ten minutes was an utterly insignificant value. Such a miniscule splinter of time was barely worth the breathing, and Jazmyn had only leant to mimic human breathing for appearances sake.
As she waited, the bacchae's imminent appearance skidded past her mind's eye relentlessly. She saw a tall, muscular woman kicking through the brick wall effortlessly, the epitome of controlled rage. Landing easily on her booted feet, this otherwise naked goddess would uncoil in one continuous motion to spring, all whipping dark mane and sparking blue eyes to sink her lengthy white canines into Jazmyn's jugular. Together, they would sink to their knees, the warrior bacchae purring with carnal pleasure. Not even bothering with a token struggle, the ancient Vampyre would kneel still, feeling her power and essence corrode away, yet not caring at all. Jazmyn allowed a fleeting smile of satisfaction to cross her sharp beautiful features. Her end was near. She was ready.
"Oh, hello." The stranger's voice was quietly amused. Jazmyn spun around to face the doorway, caught completely off guard. It was a first. Her cloudy grey eyes blinked furiously, whetted fangs worried at a pink bottom lip in unconscious consternation. "Who are you?" asked the stranger. Upon receiving no answer other than a befuddled look, the plump red-head rolled her equally red eyes. "Dare I ask what you're doing in my bedroom?"
"Uh..." Jazmyn struggled to find her voice. It seemed an impossible feat as her senses underwent overload. Her sensitive nose twitched, detecting the distinctive bloodied-sweet scent of one of the Kin. Almost relaxing, her mind automatically sought to touch this Vampyre's, in the traditional gesture of greeting, partly devised to test out a potential rival's powers and partly to determine if any direct parentage was shared. If it was, then a hunting bond might be formed and such a relationship, while rare, was constantly sought after by the weary ancient race. In many ways, they could be as hungry for companionship and spirituality, as they were for blood.
Jazmyn found neither. The Other's mind skittered away from her mental fingers, evading her with the ease of either a highly trained telepath or...a mind-blind human. Jazmyn's canines projected noticeably as she struggled to apply the ramifications.
This woman was a Vapmyre and yet not. How very interesting.
Then the pungent smell of leather carried to her quivering nostrils on a warning breeze and she remembered the bacchae warrior hunting her. There was no time for such trivalities as this anomaly who continued to stare at her as if she were Rose the first, herself. Such a pity that something so intriguing should happen, just when the old vampyre was finally preparing to end her eternal existance. Why, nothing since the death of her Creator had...she slammed a prison grate shut on the long-buried memory. Better to live in apathetic boredom and emptiness then to bring that back up. Better to die...
The strange one's eyes were laughing at her. "Did you get lost? Is that why you stumbled into my bedroom? Or perhaps you're hoping for an encounter of the romantic kind?" This last was said with a strategic pout of crescent moon lips.
Jazmyn almsot let a purr of agreement escape her throat but caught herself back. Indeed, she did find this stranger intolerably attractive, although she really had no idea as to the why. From an aesthetic viewpoint, perhaps this Other was not really so beautiful. Unusual, certainly, unique, without a doubt. Flame eyes to match her flame hair indicated supernatural blood somewhere in her line. Large generous dips and curves captured the Vampyre's lust and imagination. The deliciously mocking smile left her at a loss...I was wrong, she thought. I do find her as beautiful as one of Oblivion's immortal children, as one of my own should be.
"As beautiful as me?" husked a voice as deep and rich as burgundy. Jazmyn spun around yet again. The bacchae warrior was leaning casually back against the wall, bronzed skin gleaming like molten gold, one of her leather boots, the only apparel to grace her predator's body, casually crossed over the other.
"Xena," whispered Jazmyn. Icy certainty gripped her unbeating heart. She was going to die.
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