The woman's flesh was beginning to cool, a side effect that Lucien had come to love and adore. How wonderful it felt to see the life slip out of a human; to see the warmth drain, leaving only a cold, hollow shell. There was just something about the supple, pink flesh turning to a chilling, ice blue that made the whole process worthwhile. To kiss the navy lips sent tingles of pleasure through him.

His canvas could have been better selected, he thought as he stood back to admire his work. This place was terribly drab, and his creations deserved to be found in silk and gold. The gubby floors and polyester sheets left much to be desired, but what else could he have done when he found a perfect little morsel sitting in the tavern downstairs?

The bed lay empty for he had had no need for it this night. It was the wall where his masterpiece lay. Hung with ornate knives he had bought for just such an occasion, the woman he had seduced, killed and created into a modern day crucifixion. Two through the wrists, and one through the abdomen. With her own blood on the wall, he had drawn wings, spanning six feet. Not just outlines, no, but with impressions so they looked like feathers seaped in blood. Her long black hair was draped over her shoulders, covering the better part of her breasts. Her head was bowed down in silent mercy. Lucien sighed in contentment.

He was an artiste.

Taking one last look at his creation, he slipped out the door. He was quiet on the wooden stairs that led to the tavern. Had it not been for his striking appearance, he may have gone unnoticed. Indeed, how many men these days wore velvet coats? Or riding boots for that matter? Not many. Still, it was not too busy, and the only one sober enough to even remotely remember him would be the barman.

Ordering a glass of red wine, Lucien looked about at the room. They had no idea what had just taken place, and that they were to be the audience for one of his creations. It would take only a few days for the smell to come through, and Lucien could hardly wait.

Elidir walked along the cobblestone road passing shops and the like. Just on a walk, though something delicious scented the air around her. Stopping just passed a two-story tavern, she realized where the scent reeked from.
::May just peek in...::, she thought.
Levitating herself to a certain window where the scent came from strongest, She cracked the glass by controlled pressure, therefor the sound was not so loud.
Inside the smell was quite strong and became unbearable and sickly.
There, on the wall, was the most peculiar thing...
It was a human female, strung up just like Jesus. The blood wings with such inricate detail made her wonder about the creator of such a thing....Something beautiful for a day, then stinking and rotten from then on... to leave it in a place like this?
Admiring the artwork that costed a human life....not much...from what she thought was the center of the room a single word fell from her lips..."Why?"

Lucien had taken but a sip of the red substance they had the nerve to call wine, when he heard something break. He did not need to look around the room to know that he was the only one who had heard it. One of the gifts of being the undead, he supposed. Footsteps on the floor above told him that someone had found his work of art. Unless they were a peeping Tom, Lucien found it very hard to believe that someone would go through the window.

He set down his unclean glass in front of him. His eyes traveled to the ceiling as he set down the required amount of money. The barman grunted in thanks, but Lucien payed him no heed. He wanted to know who dared disturb his room. IT would not do, especially if they had come to soil it up. Why, he was prepared to kill if that were the case.

He mounted the stairs swiftly and silently, barely paying attention to where he was going. He'd know this route if he was asleep. He rarely forgot where his masterpieces had been situated, and even more rare did he forget how to get there.

To human ears, it was silent upstairs, but he knew better; knew it in his being. Opening the door ever so slowly, so that the person inside would not bolt or attack, it revealed that a woman was staring at his beautiful Angel. She hadn't done anything to ruin it, so Lucien felt inclined to watch for moments longer.

"Why?

It was uttered softly, but that didn't prevent him from hearing it. In fact, it raised a chuckle out of him. "Why not?" he said, an amused lilt in his French accent. "Is she not beautiful this way? I find myself rather proud of what I have created."

Hearing words breathed by an immortal, Elidir slowly turned to look at the doorway. It was unsurprising that the creator would remain near the masterpiece.
She was Still standing in the center of the room. Unafraid, she walked very slowly toward the male vampire that had answered her question so simply.
Clunk .... Clunk .... Clunk .... came her steps, for she made no effort to be quiet.
She stopped about three feet before him. "It is unfinished."
Elidir removed a thin necklace of silver from Spain from around her neck. It bore a small amulet made of crystal clear amythest.
"If I may?"