Title: Blood
Fandom: BtVS
Rating: Teen
Characters: The Master
Concrit: Please, in comments
Summary: Remember the Master rising from that pool of blood in the first episode? Where did all that blood come from?
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but they will be ... once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha!
Note: In responding to the
Open on Sunday prompt of silence, I naturally thought over the first four episodes which I'd recently reviewed. My first thought was
Catherine Madison trapped in the cheerleading trophy. The Master in the pool of blood was my second idea, but then I thought "what if the pool of blood wasn't silent?"
Note: I worked this out while I was walking in a nearby park. Toward the end of my walk, at the top of a slight hill, I passed a small puddle. The water, seeping through the earth, was draining into the puddle. There was a pinprick of a hole off to one side with a current of water shooting out into the larger puddle. The currents were easy to see because there were particles, in the dirt, of something that glittered in the sunlight. At the bottom of the puddle were exposed roots surrounded by lightly packed dirt. This dirt seemed to be churning from the influx of water from below. I've never seen anything like it. The scene was fascinating and tied in beautifully with the story I was working on.The body was warm with life but the Master couldn't bring himself to care. The Holiness oppressed him. The shell that bound him to this broken church trapped its Holiness, magnifying it, increasing the pressure until he was sure the bubble would explode. With a sigh he drew a sharp fingernail across the neck. Warm blood splashed over his fingers and a coppery tang filled the air. He let the useless body thud down to the dirt below.
He felt heat radiating from below the cooling body. Shoving the corpse aside the Master found the blood pooling in a shallow indentation. The blood should have been still. Instead currents flowed, up and down as well as from side to side, dancing over one another and twisting out of reach. The muck at the bottom churned from the intensity of the blood bubbling up from below. A faint malevolence skittered across the surface, not enough to desecrate the church but enough to give him a moments release from the Holy agony he'd endured for the past five years. He stood and shouted out to his minions. “Bring me more.”
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