*This isn't so much a dynasty or legacy as it is a story. After getting nightlife, I found that I really liked Bridgeport and many of it's inhabitants. While I've never been a fan of vampires (zombies is more my thing lol), I found the whole concept in the Sims 3 somewhat interesting. As I was bored one evening, I put my meager writing skills to work creating a story revolving around one of my Bridgeport sims. The story will continue and evolve as I play.
To anyone with any literary experience/talent: I am not a professional, but I always welcome constructive criticism on style and form. If you see any way this might be improved, let me know.
To anyone else: Feel free to tell me what you think, anyways.
The sim: Victoria Beltane, vampire. Traits: Genius, Charismatic, Star Quality, Bookworm, Great Kisser.
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Hello, day walker.
No, you need not fear this creature of darkness…for there are
many who are darker than I. Besides, you are not my prey tonight, and I have already eaten, anyways. Gluttony is the indulgence of a fool. So ease your fragile heart, as I mean you no harm.
You wish for me to take you with me? Ha! You know not what you ask. The immortality of my kind appeals only to the ignorant. While I cannot say my life has been miserable, the existence of the night walkers is not an easy one. I will tell you, if you have the ears to listen.
Good…
There are some who were born to this life, but I was not one of them. A
very long time ago, I was no different from you. A young, naïve soul, fresh out of medical school, my head full of lofty dreams of helping people and rich fantasies of husband and child. My entire life was ahead of me, and I something told me that life would be found in Bridgeport. But things did not go quite as I had imagined.
I moved into a small loft apartment near the downtown area. It was a quiet building, and the furnishings were modest, but it suited my tastes at the time, I suppose. It was quiet, which would allow me to continue my studies as I worked. My small existence saw it as “perfect.”
And then…all that changed.
I decided to apply at the hospital…after all: I was an aspiring doctor. To my surprise, the administration did not even require a moment to reflect on my qualifications. It was as though I got the job for no other reason than because I had walked in the door. But I quickly sloughed off all concerns, as it seemed that my instincts were correct in bringing me to this city. After all, my qualifications were impeccable. Such pathetic arrogance.
I soon came to realize that my “instincts” had brought me nowhere…I was
called here.
By
her. But I get ahead of myself…
During my second day at the hospital, I met an odd, young woman named Elvira. It was a chance meeting in the hallway, and we barely shared a glance with one another, but as the week went on, my contact with her intensified. She had taken an immediate liking to me, and as she was highly established in her career (far more than one would expect from a woman of her apparent age), I was eager to make myself of use to her. Although she gave me an uncomfortable feeling whenever she was around, Elvira was likable enough. And the feeling passed once I got to know her.
There was an incredible rumor going around the hospital about my new friend: it was said that despite her youthful appearance, she actually was hundreds of years old. I laughed this off as little more than professional jealousy. I was a woman of science, after all, and such things were impossible.
But hidden inside every rumor is a kernel of truth.
It all began a couple of weeks later with an innocuous invitation. After we had finished our rounds, she stared at me for a moment as if she were trying to discern what was going through my mind. By this point, nothing she did struck me as strange anymore. Through our working relationship we had become rather close, and I held her among my best friends. And then she spoke to me:
“I’m having a party tonight,” she informed me. “You should attend…formal attire, if you would be so kind.”
The hospital kept me busy, and I had virtually no friends outside of work, so I jumped at the opportunity to spend time in a social situation with my close friend and mentor. And indeed, the gesture seemed benign enough.
But while I was ready for the party, I was ill prepared for the guest list.
There were numerous other people in attendance who gave me the same uncomfortable feeling as Elvira did when I first met her. She was talking to them when I arrived, and I couldn’t help but feel like they were talking about me. But once she noticed me, she introduced me to Vladimir Schlick, Beau Merrick and Wogan and Morgana Hemlock.
“Finally, you‘re here,” Morgana told me. “Elvira speaks highly of you.”
“I’m flattered,” I stammered, nervously.
Vladimir smiles and says to Elvira: “We’re satisfied.”
Then the party-goers left the building, each saying goodbye to me as they departed, which left me alone with Elvira.
“I don’t understand,” I told her. “What about your party?”
“It was a success,” she said bluntly. “They like you well enough.”
“Well enough for what,” I asked, unsure I wanted to hear the answer.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about me,” she said, as she held a finger to my lips as I began to protest.
“You came here to help people,” she continued, “and while I have little interest in helping anyone, I won’t begrudge you of it. But my kind dwindles, and we’ve watched you for some time: we think you would be a worthy addition to our circle of friends. We know that you would not use the ‘gift‘ we would give you for petty conquest or power-mongering. Such things shed an uncomfortable light on us.”
“
Your kind,” I repeated for clarification.
“You wish to help people,” she repeated, ignoring my query. “But your
own existence limits you. Soon, you will wither and the abilities that took you years to acquire will be stolen from you in an instant by the cruel joke that is life. And once life has taken everything it can from you, you’ll die broken and alone, and all your hopes and dreams will crumble and come to
naught.”
I stood there, stunned with my head hanging at my friend‘s cruel words, unsure whether to be offended or crestfallen. But she tenderly put her hand beneath my chin and lifted my head to look into her red, glowing eyes.
“But we offer you the chances that your very existence would deny you. Where it would give you weakness, we offer you strength. Where it would give you atrophy, we offer you a vigour you’ve never dared to dream of. Where it would give you oblivion, we offer you a wondrous, new life. We offer you the power to make all of your dreams come true.
“If only you would come with us…”
I didn’t even have to answer her…we were well past the point where mere words are a worthless gesture. She already knew what my answer was. She had known long,
long before she was in a position to ask the question. And the very moment that I realized that was the last instant in my very long life that I felt fear.
And I had often wondered: had I known the true nature of our relationship, would I have gone to her party? Yes, I probably would have.
To be continued.....
