revealing of the vampire secret – the change [story part 42]
November 12, 2012 § 4 Comments
This is part 2.
The connection with the old.
This post contains a lot of dialogue. I reproduced it as good as I can remember, based on approximately what I remember that happened. I can’t guarantee this is a word for word description but… here it is anyway.
“I don’t have the power to talk about this right now.” I replied instead, and closed my eyes.
I put my hand on her mouth, in the dark, in a sign of “Don’t say any more” – She was smiling.
I was all too tired to even start thinking about why. I got used to it. Regina smiled a lot you know. More than any person should, really.
We fell asleep.
“You know… I’m starting to adopt this daylife style when I’m with you. I’m always tired. I don’t care for it too much.” She was saying while I still had my eyes closed, didn’t wake up completely.
“For a night person, you sure are pretty active.” I said, with my eyes still closed.
“What time is it anyway?” I asked.
“Close to two.” As in 14:00 in the afternoon.
[[ If you’re a U.S reader, then understand that the norm in Europe, while you might be aware that we use 24 hour clock, and refer to it as such in writing, when speaking, we actually still use the 12 hour one.
If one would want to say “two in the afternoon” he would say “two in the afternoon” and not “14:00” – but he would write 14:00 instead. ]]
Hearing that, I opened my eyes instantly. TWO?
“What in the world… What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m bored.” She responded.
“I can see that. But what are you doing?” I asked again.
“I’m painting?” She responded, with a question.
“ON MY WALLS?” I asked while standing up.
I jumped to her and she just caught me on my way on stopping her, keeping me at bay no matter what I did, with just one hand.
“Stop it!” I exclaimed, still trying to get close to her right hand with which she was making small, swirly, squiggly blue lines on my beautiful walls.
“There. Finished.” And with three points above a… square(?), she stopped.
She let me go, and stood back.
“Wonderful.” I said and started dressing. I wasn’t even in the least bit curios. I didn’t want to know. Where’d she got the paint anyway?
“Do you just casually start painting people’s walls?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Why is your hair wet? Do I want to know?” I asked.
“Can you stop it with the question? What the hell is the matter with you. You just woke up. Are you always like this when you sleep on the floor?” She asked.
“I wouldn’t know now, would I?” Implying that I had never slept on the floor before.
“I took a shower ok? You know what? Just shut up and go outside.” Regina exclaimed and started going through some shirts that I had, trying to see if something would be to her pleasing. She did that often, used plain white shirts whenever she didn’t have anything else to wear. They look… better than you would expect.
So I did. I opened the door and went into the main hallway.
Everything was blue.
This was a nightmare.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked nobody.
“We’re painting the walls.” Someone responded from the other room.
“I CAN SEE THAT!” I responded, making sure I got heard. I didn’t want to know about this either. Too much going on in one morning, afternoon. Why did I sleep so much anyway?
I went back to the room. Closed the door.
“So, last night.” I said, and sat down on a chair, massaging my shoulder.
She got close.
“Last night…” She said while approaching.
“Does it hurt?” She asked, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“Just a bit uncomfortable I guess.” I responded.
“Let me see.” She said leaning down to get a closer look.
“There’s nothing there!” She exclaimed, as in “Stop complaining.”
“Well maybe you broke a bone!” I responded in an angry/comic kind of way and jumped up, taking her in my arms, pushing her backwards and urging her to go back to the subject which she was clearly dodging. After a bit of going back and forth between subjects, dodging questions, which she was a master at. Even when you knew she was doing it on purpose, she still managed to sway you into a whole different conversation, changing the subject from the apocalypse (just an example) to ice-cream just like that. After that, we finally reached the no-return point.
“I need…” She trailed off.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” She said instead.
“I don’t have too many first times in my life these days, but this, this is worth remembering.” She added, as in an attempt to change the subject again. No going back.
“Just tell me already.” I urged her to continue.
“I need you.” She said in a flat voice.
“I think we all know that you want something from me, as for need, I don’t really know what to say about that…” I responded in an arrogant way. I always do that. I don’t like it – I can’t help it. I don’t know how to accept these kinds of statements.
“Very well-put.” Again…
“But the fact is: I actually need you. As in, I need your… help?” She clarified.
“Help? With what?” I asked.
Now, I can reproduce this following part either through even more dialogue or through a summary, but I think it will take much less space or effort to read if I do it as a summary. Don’t worry, same detail.
She sat me down, and explained to me that she thinks – actually believes – that Sigismund might be out there, alive. She explained to me everything that she had been doing in-between the periods where we didn’t see each other, and explained to me that she was pretty sure she had quite a few things following her – humans or vampires, with unknown interests. Because she had let them do just that, see where it leads.
It all started with Uppsala and the discovery of the start-shaped, like my necklace, key lock underneath the cathedral in Sweden.
She had found another one of those and that’s why she needed my necklace again, without me being there, because she didn’t want me to know – she didn’t wanted anyone to know – where it was, or what she was after.
Bear with me, it’ll become clear as to why she wanted it kept private.
The blood that Viktoria wanted, that would be revealed to me, and to you too, a bit later in the story.
She did this apparently all the time, just followed the same trail.
I know the story goes sideways and doesn’t formulate a red, epic thread which to follow. But hei, that’s life. This might be a good reading for you, but it’s not a carefully, traditionally ‘Introduction, Action, Ending’ type of story. It’s six years of my life, and everything went forward and up and down and backwards. Stories like these don’t go up to the end-point in a straight, ascending line.
She followed the same trail we had been on all the time, and the more we dug into it, the more questions we had, and not enough answers.
We were still onto the same thing which interested both of us: Finding Sigismund – connected to me, the necklace, her – why her, why me – why the necklace, and what’s the real connection between all of this and the black eyed children. She, as well as me, knowing more and more, were feeling as part of an elaborate hoax.
IF the black eyed children had made the same type – or even the very same necklace for her and she had gone through what I was going right now – then how was all this possible – and more importantly why?
Why was Sigismund missing – voluntarily? Why no vampires older than her?
We both, couldn’t really accept that there’s a possibility everything we did was planned way before we were born, and was being steered by an invisible hand with every step we took. We both had issues with understanding the end goal, and more importantly, accepting that there might be a higher control at work, higher than the kinship. Which was – in the least – worrying.
But if you’ve read up until now, you know it got even more complicated. Every time we set on the right path, something intervened. Something like Gunnar, Blanche and Turkey. What was that all about?
Regina had an entire year for herself to hunt down and find whoever was responsible for that, and she didn’t find out anything except what she was now telling me.
Picking up on a trail born out of the deepest corners of Russian folklore, along with other clues, such as the location, the names involved and the markings. Yes, the markings. And she pointed me to the wall she had painted. Norse language. Runic language.
Damn. I knew I had recognized it from somewhere.
The Russian folklore spoke of the “undying man who worships the runes” – Now, the saga is much more longer, and I don’t really know what is it about. That’s all I got, because Regina quickly jumped to explain more about Sigismund.
He was obsessed with the runic language. With the runes. We was convinced there was a strong connection between Valhalla, the Norse heaven or afterlife, and Wallachia – name of a Romanian region (South of Transylvania).
And there’s good evidence the norse folk held strong similarities to the Dacian people, the current day population of Romania.
As quoted from Wikipedia:
Xenophanes described Thracians as having blue eyes and red hair. Physically, the Dacians and the Getae had similar characteristics to other barbarians around them (Thracians,Celts, and Scythians). Unlike the Greeks, or Scythians and Germanics, Dacians are generally described as being much taller, their skin whiter and with less hair with straight, light-coloured (red?) hair and blue eyes.” Here is the link to the Dacian characteristics.
He was also fascinated with the old Dacian people because of his nature. He believed that there was something there, and he constantly searched for getting to the bottom of it. Namely, not only the presence of vampire folklore way before he was even born, into the Dacian mythology, but also the presence of depiction of werewolves. Now, don’t go thinking I’m getting into werewolves here. I’m just saying, what I said in a past post, that it’s rather curios – and it’s hard not to be at least as interested as Sigismund was – as to why all these myths and tales come from, how Bram Stoker put it, “the horseshoe of the Carpathians”.
For example, if you read the Dacian mythology you will quickly find that there’s one thought in your head: Werewolf.
I mean, how could it not?
- Dacians might have called themselves “wolves” or “ones the same with wolves”, a fact with religious significance.
- Dacians draw their name from a god or a legendary ancestor who appeared as a wolf.
- Dacians had taken their name from a group of fugitive immigrants arrived from other regions or from their own young outlaws, who acted similarly to the wolves circling villages and living from looting. As was the case in other societies, those young members of the community went through an initiation, perhaps up to a year, during which they lived as a wolf. Comparatively, Hittite laws referred to fugitive outlaws as “wolves”.
- The existence of a ritual that provides one with the ability to turn into a wolf. Such a transformation may be related either with lycanthropy itself, a widespread phenomenon, but attested especially in the Balkans-Carpathian region, or a ritual imitation of the behavior and appearance of the wolf. Such a ritual was presumably a military initiation, potentially reserved to a secret brotherhood of warriors (or Männerbünde). To become formidable warriors they would assimilate behavior of the wolf, wearing wolf skins during the ritual. Traces related to wolves as a cult or as totems were found in this area since the Neolithic period, including the Vinča culture artifacts: wolf statues and fairly rudimentary figurines representing dancers with a wolf mask. The items could indicate warrior initiation rites, or ceremonies in which young people put on their seasonal wolf masks. The element of unity of beliefs about werewolves and lycanthropy consists in the magical-religious experience of mystical solidarity with the wolf by whatever means used to obtain it. But all have one original myth, a primary event.
Now, I know the above is a lot to read. But trust me, the more you read it (at least twice) the more interesting it gets.
Do you see the resemblance between the last part, about the “becoming formidable warriors” and what I said about vampires and how they assume a certain shape – psychological one, a behavioural type? It’s imperative to do it, and the ones who actually need to do it, know all to well.
How does this relates to the whole story? Well, from my point of view, it doesn’t really. It only relates to how Regina came to the conclusion that there’s something behind that tale, back to the runic language and Sigismund obsession with it.
But how did the runic language get in those parts of the world? Few know, and I am not one of them. The evidence that it was indeed present lies all over the place. For example this photo of an old norse rune present in a Gotland (Swedish region) museum. It reads:
Rodvisl and Rodälv had these stones raised in memory of their three sons. This stone in memory of Rodfos.
He was betrayed by the Wallachians on an expedition. God help Rodfos’ soul. May God betray those who betrayed him.
Also, artifacts such as the Ring of Pietroassa and many others like this.
But enough with this, it was clear to me, and should be to you too, that this was a lead worth pursuing.
And she didn’t waste any time in trying to pick-up on the trail and follow it to wherever it led her. However, from that and to how I came into play here – more than I already was – as in, why and how she needed my help, well, that would be interesting, and I hope will shed a light on past events such as Turkey.