Isaak’s revealing discourse with a grandfather.

A gentle pulse drifted into his fingers, soft, that of a new born lamb, he pushed his fingers deeper – the heart of a tiny creature – for a moment the world was the beat of that heart, pounding into his fingers, his pulsating across his aorta. The pulse seemed to search for something to pull it out of the darkness which suffocated it.

It was hard to believe that he was merely a sleep and not in the last heart wrenching moments of death. It was hard to believe only a moment before he had been the great leviathan churning in the presence of his master. His lover.

Isaak pulled away glancing at the grandfather clock, hours till he would rise from the slumber and drift into his masters office dragging some half arsed plan behind him. He would stand their, with those hazel eyes maliciously begging for attention. He would walk across, unlikely that he would bother to move any of the paper piles out the way before perching on the edge of the desk. He’d play with anything lying around. He certainly wouldn’t say anything – because he was already saying it with those hazel eyes.   

And then as his master he would have to quell the overwhelming desire to take his young protégé right their and then, for there was less pleasurable work to be done. His protégé would sit silently playing with his hair twiddling each long black strand until it ravelled into subtle ebony curls. They would spring as he pulled them down between his thumb and finger and then his hands would progress to his masters strong chest.

‘I am the master, not Dietrich.’ It seemed likely to Isaak that this was some stygian fantasy rising to the surface, for he would simply never allow Dietrich to own him.

‘What do you dream about puppet master, blithe or is it sinful, vile and villainous, like when you are awake.’ Isaak murmured. ‘Are my monsters in your dreams, what do you fear, what do you treasure?’  

A sigh on which the words of devotion utter from Dietrich’s mouth, Isaak took the sigh as a resolution of a dream, not and utterance of words – and so he was ignorant of his lover’s devotion.

‘Oh Dietrich, what should I do with you, all this play Is causing backlog in my inbox’ Isaak cried out as if speaking to the grandfather clock, addressing it as if it was going to suggest a solution or pat him humanely on the back. Isaak’s desperate outcry had woken Dietrich from his mysterious intimacy induced slumber. He now watched Isaak’s discourse with the clock with a pernicious interest.

‘I think I love that boy, he has aged me greatly – if that is possible – children do that to you, you know – do the other clocks age you – or did you not give birth to these clocks did you simply inherit this standing from some fated fallen clock before you?’

Dietrich wondered whether Isaak’s words were supposed to be prophetic, metaphoric or nonsense, whether it was significant or not, should his clock converse be noted in Dietrich’s malicious corner of his mind or tossed into the waste pile beside his humanity.

‘Am I old to you? You’ve been here since I discovered this room, you where filled with dust, am I filled with dust now – or have I been discovered, perhaps Dietrich through the white cloth from my face and I saw time move again, it moves faster among those who live to limitation nor preserve themselves. Dietrich preserves nothing more than his looks and if he should ever…’ Isaak trailed off wondering whether he would still love the devil if he was not the devil.

‘I am beautiful’ thought Dietrich ‘But without it… I am just evil, would he still love me like he loves the clock if I was not beautiful.’

‘When I first found you’ continued Isaak to the clock, ‘you where caped black, there where worms within you, eating you alive, your skin was broken, punctured with holes of decay, yet now you are smooth, varnished and only your inside holds the secret to your age. Could I do that for Dietrich, could he live forever like time?’

It hadn’t occurred to Dietrich between his violent passion of destruction and his uncontrolled fire which burst from Isaak’s touch that he was a terran, with power, but not without mortality. Could Isaak revive him like he revived that clock, or when Dietrich was moving towards senescence would Isaak move away from Dietrich, perhaps in disgust of touching the body of something that was neither beautiful inside or out. His heart took a moment to dampen the urge for a muliebritic sob.

‘Perhaps it is I’ spoke Isaak with conviction towards the clocks quiet words of wisdom, ‘who should age with my lover, and then we may die together – like other lovers do. Then I doubt lovers die happy together, the very word suggests a tragedy of some sort, one of us will be taken brutally from the other and we will be left to produce the rains of sorrow – perhaps it will be our punishment for what Master Cain desires to do to this world – if there is a God, I doubt he would look fondly on our false idol.’

Dietrich blinked, was Isaak suggesting he followed Cain for others than which was stated on the surface, did Isaak really consider their love before the Orden’s aims, come to think of it, what where the Orden’s aims, they where blurred in mysterious feuds between Vatican and vampire alike.

‘So clock, tell me, should I wake my lover and in his drowsy state and take him to our perverted heaven. Should I lead him to Babylon and on to Sodom to do with him what our ancients did to so many innocent girls and boys a like. Can you see me take his wrist, bruising, breaking his torso with my force?’

‘Sounds interesting’ mused Dietrich, ‘break me Isaak! Break me!’ Dietrich took the moment to imagine the overwhelming pleasurable suffering, ‘Oh Isaak, I would like that a lot.’

‘Now my dear clock, I do believe our privacy has been intruded upon.’ He turned sharply allowing Dietrich not enough time to shut his eyes, ‘my dear Puppet Master did you not see that beautiful 19th century mirror guiding my eyes to yours?’

Dietrich blushed glancing across to the placing of the mirror, ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

‘I wouldn’t have said anything I didn’t wish you to hear.’ Isaak frowned painfully and took his leave from the room. Dietrich’s was left to subdue his distraught heart that choked his throat with the brutality of Isaak’s parting words.

‘Isaak, I…’


The End

Isaak + Dietrich © of Trinity blood

Story © Rawfiche©