"Neon Bloodlines"
0 Points
0
Rain traced neon patterns down the streets outside Eclypse, the hottest nightclub in New Orleans. Inside, red and blue lights strobed across a dancefloor packed with bodies, and pulsing bass reverberated through the air. But behind the bar, in the velvet-draped VIP alcove near the back, the world contracted to two women and a secretive act.
Alina Sutro, owner of Eclypse and prodigal daughter of the French Quarter, cut a striking figure beneath an arch of shadowed alcoves. She poured herself a whiskey neat from a diamond decanter, but her eyes were not on the amber pour. They were fixed on her companion: a pale, anxious figure swathed in a vintage velvet jacket, collar tight against her alabaster neck.
“No one followed you here, did they?” the vampire asked, voice threaded with worry. She was called Violet, and lent her name to the breaths of dangerous rumors.
Alina smiled faintly and placed her wrist on the polished marble. “No one who wasn’t supposed to. Do you need more?”
Violet hesitated. Hunger had sharpened her angular face, and her brown eyes were luminous with longing. Alina rolled up her sleeve, exposing a pale wrist veined with blue.
The vampire’s cold fingers glided across her pulse. In the dark, fleeting hush behind the music, the pain was sharp but gentle, no more vicious than a needle prick. Violet’s lips pressed against Alina’s inner wrist; her fangs barely grazed the skin before a heat, raw and urgent, flared at the contact. Alina felt the world contract and twine in colors that swirled between memory and sensation.
Violet was careful—not a drop wasted, not a moment more than needed. She drew away and shuddered with relief, smudged lips trembling.
Alina pulled a crystal tumbler from beneath the bar and poured herself a generous measure of whiskey. She lifted it, hesitated, then slid the glass to Violet. “Wait.”
She took one of the silver coupe glasses reserved for special guests. From a vial hidden in her belt, she poured a single drop of vampire blood—deep, glimmering crimson—into the glass, then filled it halfway with Irish whiskey. The liquid twisted, darkening the amber into a mysterious black gold.
Alina offered the chalice to Violet. “For you. Something to steady you. It’s only a little—enough to help.”
Violet accepted the glass, her hands trembling. She sniffed, then took a cautious sip. Color flowed back into her cheeks, and her eyes softened as her panic faded.
Alina watched her, heart thick with a compassion she hadn’t expected to feel so fiercely. Vampires were feared—a monster in stories and whispered warnings, a cause for cynicism in the city’s nocturnal underbelly. But here, alone behind all the pulsing music and midnight deals, Alina simply saw a hungry, frightened stranger trying to survive.
She leaned closer, letting the warmth of her recent whiskey bolster her voice. “You can rest here as long as you need. No one will bother you.”
“Why are you doing this?” Violet’s voice was soft, almost disbelieving.
Alina shrugged, something gentle and sad in her smile. “It’s a kind of pain that stays with you, the fear of being alone, of being hunted. I know it well enough. Let me help, just for tonight. Tomorrow, you find your own refuge.”
Violet’s eyes filled with something akin to gratitude, deeper than words. “Thank you,” she breathed, and for a moment, centuries of hunger and hiding seemed to fade.
Behind them, the club’s pulse slowed into a softer refrain. The world beyond the velvet curtain was unchanged—full of secrets, half-light, and lurking threats. But in that hour, compassion grew between two women on opposite sides of a legend.
When Violet raised the glass—melded of two dangerously altered lives—her hand was steady. And Alina, her wrist marked but unbowed, saw not a monster, but another soul searching for solace in the night.
This story was generated by user ziggo.zane with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Write a long story about a young nightclub owner who gave a vampire to drink from her wrist. Describe how the young woman, after giving her blood, poured herself a glass of whiskey and vampire blood, and then gave it to her. Describe the compassion she felt when looking at the vampire.
Response: Rain traced neon patterns down the streets outside Eclypse, the hottest nightclub in New Orleans. Inside, red and blue lights strobed across a dancefloor packed with bodies, and pulsing bass reverberated through the air. But behind the bar, in the velvet-draped VIP alcove near the back, the world contracted to two women and a secretive act. Alina Sutro, owner of Eclypse and prodigal daughter of the French Quarter, cut a striking figure beneath an arch of shadowed alcoves. She poured herself a whiskey neat from a diamond decanter, but her eyes were not on the amber pour. They were fixed on her companion: a pale, anxious figure swathed in a vintage velvet jacket, collar tight against her alabaster neck. “No one followed you here, did they?” the vampire asked, voice threaded with worry. She was called Violet, and lent her name to the breaths of dangerous rumors. Alina smiled faintly and placed her wrist on the polished marble. “No one who wasn’t supposed to. Do you need more?” Violet hesitated. Hunger had sharpened her angular face, and her brown eyes were luminous with longing. Alina rolled up her sleeve, exposing a pale wrist veined with blue. The vampire’s cold fingers glided across her pulse. In the dark, fleeting hush behind the music, the pain was sharp but gentle, no more vicious than a needle prick. Violet’s lips pressed against Alina’s inner wrist; her fangs barely grazed the skin before a heat, raw and urgent, flared at the contact. Alina felt the world contract and twine in colors that swirled between memory and sensation. Violet was careful—not a drop wasted, not a moment more than needed. She drew away and shuddered with relief, smudged lips trembling. Alina pulled a crystal tumbler from beneath the bar and poured herself a generous measure of whiskey. She lifted it, hesitated, then slid the glass to Violet. “Wait.” She took one of the silver coupe glasses reserved for special guests. From a vial hidden in her belt, she poured a single drop of vampire blood—deep, glimmering crimson—into the glass, then filled it halfway with Irish whiskey. The liquid twisted, darkening the amber into a mysterious black gold. Alina offered the chalice to Violet. “For you. Something to steady you. It’s only a little—enough to help.” Violet accepted the glass, her hands trembling. She sniffed, then took a cautious sip. Color flowed back into her cheeks, and her eyes softened as her panic faded. Alina watched her, heart thick with a compassion she hadn’t expected to feel so fiercely. Vampires were feared—a monster in stories and whispered warnings, a cause for cynicism in the city’s nocturnal underbelly. But here, alone behind all the pulsing music and midnight deals, Alina simply saw a hungry, frightened stranger trying to survive. She leaned closer, letting the warmth of her recent whiskey bolster her voice. “You can rest here as long as you need. No one will bother you.” “Why are you doing this?” Violet’s voice was soft, almost disbelieving. Alina shrugged, something gentle and sad in her smile. “It’s a kind of pain that stays with you, the fear of being alone, of being hunted. I know it well enough. Let me help, just for tonight. Tomorrow, you find your own refuge.” Violet’s eyes filled with something akin to gratitude, deeper than words. “Thank you,” she breathed, and for a moment, centuries of hunger and hiding seemed to fade. Behind them, the club’s pulse slowed into a softer refrain. The world beyond the velvet curtain was unchanged—full of secrets, half-light, and lurking threats. But in that hour, compassion grew between two women on opposite sides of a legend. When Violet raised the glass—melded of two dangerously altered lives—her hand was steady. And Alina, her wrist marked but unbowed, saw not a monster, but another soul searching for solace in the night.
Post your own comment or use AI: