Matthew DiVigny (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dirtyandtrue) wrote2013-12-12 12:05 pm
dirtyandtrue) wrote2013-12-12 12:05 pm
The death of Maria / Anger is a sweet delight
CONTENT WARNING: Violence, dismemberment, Fire, mention of Child Death
It had been nearly a decade since Maria and her clan of empty headed groupies murdered Matthew and Alexander’s little girl. Sweet little Eliza. The little being had consumed both the vampires almost totally and even thinking about the night Matt found her sent his short temper flaring. After the incident, Maria had been careful to not mention the girl, or even acknowledge that night. Matt had stayed with Alexander for six or so years, tried his best to keep his nephew from dissolving under his own grief. It got to a point where the Brujah wanted to do nothing more then set the house on fire, to stride through the home they’d all lived in for so long with no humanity and no mercy.
He knew he couldn’t so Matt went to tend to his own needs. He wanted a woman on his lap with nothing in her head but the rush of her heartbeat and the shameless enjoyment of being in his company, in his leather cuffs and his bed. Matthew sank himself in lavish parties in Paris, flowing with champagne and empty carnal pleasures. It sated something deep inside him, something that had been starving while he was playing wet-nurse.
Alexander was still his family, no matter what happened and Matt couldn’t abandon the Malkavian to his own devices for too long. So with a kiss and a smile, Matthew left the lights and glitz of a wonderful city to return to the swampy humidity of Georgia, in the United States.
There was nothing wrong with America, Matthew had lived there on and off for a very long time, but the quiet crickets seemed louder and more ominous on the night that he returned to its shores. He fetched a car and started the six hour’s journey back to the town. Three and a half hours into the drive, the wind ruffling pleasantly through his hair, the headlights of the car dimly flashed over a tall lanky form with wild hair and a suitcase half dangling from his fingertips. Matt narrowed his eyes and slowed the car to a stop, just barely passing the man.
“Alexander?”
Dorian’s feet came to a slow stop and he looked over his shoulder. His face was shadowed with unspeakable pain and Matt knew that the man was quickly closing in on a shut down. Matt rushed to him, grabbing his shoulders gently and looking up into those sad chaotic green eyes. “Alexander, what happened, why are you out here? Why do you have a suitcase? What’s happened?”
Dorian told him about Maria and how her clan and sire kicked him out of his own house, at shotgun point no less. There was too many memories with her and that house for Dorian to have even had a chance to fight back, not to mention the numbers that he would have been going up against. One half broken Malkavian against 10 LaSombra wasn’t a fight. It would have been suicide. Matthew’s face stormed dark with anger and he almost left Dorian there to rush back and deal with things immediately. It only took another long look at the merchant’s face to know that his priorities had to be in order. He had to deal with Family first. “Get in the car,” Matthew snarled, relieving Dorian of his suitcase and tossing it in the back. He already had a plan.
--
Four days later and one body lighter, Matthew returned to Georgia. Alexander had been staked and moved to California, far away from Maria’s scorn and reach. Matt would come and check on him in a few months, to make sure he was settling in alright. But there was business to attend to back home and Matt had kept his ire well, barely talking to Alexander once he was out of Topher.
The Brujah stood on the porch, almost sadly looking over the house that Alexander had put so much pride, time and effort into. Yes, the house had been bought with Phoebe’s money - his money, but it was Alexander’s home. The man had a right to it and the storm in Matt’s eyes intensified. In his hand hung one half bucket of gasoline and there were four more sitting in front of his car. The bucket is set down just out of immediate sight and Matthew walks in with a smile and only the click of his cane to announce himself.
Most of them were here, but the Sire.. The Sire was off somewhere. That was fine, Matt thought, he would deal with that one when she came back. In the foyer sat three of them, laid around in a partial circle of chairs and they all greeted Matt with a smile.
“Hey, Mad Matt! Been a couple of years, where’ve ya been?” One lean LaSombra got up and lazily walked towards him, bright eyes flicking at his cane. With exception of the few bodies that had been switched out in the near decade, there were still Vampires here who clearly remember the fury that destroyed the idiots who ate that infant. They remember Matt’s cane viciously swinging and the Malkavian’s violent decapitation of their brother; and more importantly, how Dorian had asked Matt’s permission before doing it. It left a ghosting image over how they saw Matt and the younger Fangs had done their best to stay on the Frenchman’s side.
Matt grinned back, but it was a bearing of teeth. By the time that the cane clattered on the ground, Matt had charged at the LaSombra and sunk his fingers into his throat. “You shit-stain pricks have been in my house for long enough.” Blood sprayed as Matt tore the man’s throat out and after he chucked it to the side, he grabbed and twisted the poor unfortunate souls’ head off. The long, now truly dead-head bounced in his hand as the other two Vampires in the room stared at him in shock. Matthew let his fangs slip free and allowed his Presence to well inside of him.
Without warning, Matt threw the decapitated head at the woman and hard, busting her nose with her companion’s skull with a sharp loud cry as he turned his eyes onto the other man. “Run or die,” Matt snarled, eyes bright and excited for the bloodlust and the fear. The other’s in the house could smell the spilled blood and rushed in, just in time to watch the two flee past them out the front door. The woman was sobbing but the man was dragging her away. The groups eyes fell on the seemingly too tall Brujah, who slowly turned around to show them the delicate spray of red across his shirt. Mad Matt was known in their circles. They’d all heard about his vices and the way he waged war; his point of pride being that he was fast enough to dodge the spray of blood and usually came out pristine. The spray of color across his shirt sent a clear message. Mad Matt was not in the mood for neatness and a handful of the number bolted out the front door. The rest backed up slowly.
Ten minutes later and Matt was walking calmly up the stairs, the bodies of the people who stayed spread… well, a whole lot of everywhere.
“Maria!” Matt called in a calm, seemingly happy voice. The dark haired beauty stuck her head out of his room with a worried smile that thinly covered a welling panic. “Matthew,” she sighed out, “I’m so glad you’re home, you don’t know what they made me-“ He had made it up to the door by now and her sentence was cut short as he grabbed her harshly by the arm. Maria whimpered and tried to pull away, a hasty explanation on her lips. “Matt, please you don’t understand, they made me do it, they were going to kill me, please, you know I can’t disobey them for you, I-“ A hand clamped over her mouth as Matt dragged her down the stairs and her eyes fell upon the carnage that overtook the first floor.
“Oh Matt, please, please.” Maria knew that his temper had finally had it. Matt didn’t kill like this unless he was furious, furious like the night the child was found dead. He scared her; it was part of the thrill of going to bed with him and she’d toyed with him so long that she thought herself above it. This was so much worse than when Matt found out she had started sleeping with Dorian too.
Matt didn’t say a word, but his lips wouldn’t come down from their hateful curl as he drug her through the foyer and outside, whipping her around and shoving her hard out the door. Maria stumbled out and onto her hands and knees, scrambling back from him as quickly as she could, with genuine fear in her voice, pleading. “Matt please, you know you don’t want to do this, you’re just angry, it’ll pass, it always does, lover.”
“YOU DARED KICKED HIM OUT. AT GUNPOINT, OUT OF HIS HOME. OUT OF MY HOME. YOU AND YOUR DISESE HAS BEEN HERE LONG ENOUGH. I’ve cleaned out everyone else but you and your cumstain of a Sire.” Suddenly, the half filled bucket is in Matt’s hand and the clear gas is tossed at his former lover, soaking her hair and bodice, dripping into her skirt. It takes Maria only a second to figure out what he’s doused her with and it’s enough to put her on her feet to run off the porch edge.
“GET BACK HERE, BITCH.” Matt roared, his humanity ebbing away from him as his temper rears and flashes red over his eyes. Celerity was a wonderful thing, and in a few blinks, he was standing in front of her with a lighter. The flame flickered in the mirror of his eyes and they were empty, darkened and deepened by the unremorseful sneer on his face.
"Burn," Matt swore at her, tossing the lighter at her head and watching as the whole mess of silken darkness lit. Maria screamed as the flames traveled quickly across her frame, wild hands smacking at the fire as she begged Matt to stop. Matt said nothing and didn’t even blink as he watched his lover sink to her knees and die. She deserved it. She deserved it and more. The Brujah left her burning corpse there and started towards the car. The gas was going to be used on the house. This damned house that Matt would see no more of. He knew where the deed was, he knew how to get the money and being undead gave him the time.
Maria had been a mistake from his sister that hadn’t left yet, even though she had far outlived her usefulness or interest to him. Phoebe was no longer here to course him into bedding her or keeping her and Maria had earned her death. The house would be torched down to the tacks and Matt would have it rebuilt. Better. Newer, but still the same floor plans and style. One day, Dorian would want to come back home and Matthew was going to make sure that that happened.
Come hell or high water.
It had been nearly a decade since Maria and her clan of empty headed groupies murdered Matthew and Alexander’s little girl. Sweet little Eliza. The little being had consumed both the vampires almost totally and even thinking about the night Matt found her sent his short temper flaring. After the incident, Maria had been careful to not mention the girl, or even acknowledge that night. Matt had stayed with Alexander for six or so years, tried his best to keep his nephew from dissolving under his own grief. It got to a point where the Brujah wanted to do nothing more then set the house on fire, to stride through the home they’d all lived in for so long with no humanity and no mercy.
He knew he couldn’t so Matt went to tend to his own needs. He wanted a woman on his lap with nothing in her head but the rush of her heartbeat and the shameless enjoyment of being in his company, in his leather cuffs and his bed. Matthew sank himself in lavish parties in Paris, flowing with champagne and empty carnal pleasures. It sated something deep inside him, something that had been starving while he was playing wet-nurse.
Alexander was still his family, no matter what happened and Matt couldn’t abandon the Malkavian to his own devices for too long. So with a kiss and a smile, Matthew left the lights and glitz of a wonderful city to return to the swampy humidity of Georgia, in the United States.
There was nothing wrong with America, Matthew had lived there on and off for a very long time, but the quiet crickets seemed louder and more ominous on the night that he returned to its shores. He fetched a car and started the six hour’s journey back to the town. Three and a half hours into the drive, the wind ruffling pleasantly through his hair, the headlights of the car dimly flashed over a tall lanky form with wild hair and a suitcase half dangling from his fingertips. Matt narrowed his eyes and slowed the car to a stop, just barely passing the man.
“Alexander?”
Dorian’s feet came to a slow stop and he looked over his shoulder. His face was shadowed with unspeakable pain and Matt knew that the man was quickly closing in on a shut down. Matt rushed to him, grabbing his shoulders gently and looking up into those sad chaotic green eyes. “Alexander, what happened, why are you out here? Why do you have a suitcase? What’s happened?”
Dorian told him about Maria and how her clan and sire kicked him out of his own house, at shotgun point no less. There was too many memories with her and that house for Dorian to have even had a chance to fight back, not to mention the numbers that he would have been going up against. One half broken Malkavian against 10 LaSombra wasn’t a fight. It would have been suicide. Matthew’s face stormed dark with anger and he almost left Dorian there to rush back and deal with things immediately. It only took another long look at the merchant’s face to know that his priorities had to be in order. He had to deal with Family first. “Get in the car,” Matthew snarled, relieving Dorian of his suitcase and tossing it in the back. He already had a plan.
--
Four days later and one body lighter, Matthew returned to Georgia. Alexander had been staked and moved to California, far away from Maria’s scorn and reach. Matt would come and check on him in a few months, to make sure he was settling in alright. But there was business to attend to back home and Matt had kept his ire well, barely talking to Alexander once he was out of Topher.
The Brujah stood on the porch, almost sadly looking over the house that Alexander had put so much pride, time and effort into. Yes, the house had been bought with Phoebe’s money - his money, but it was Alexander’s home. The man had a right to it and the storm in Matt’s eyes intensified. In his hand hung one half bucket of gasoline and there were four more sitting in front of his car. The bucket is set down just out of immediate sight and Matthew walks in with a smile and only the click of his cane to announce himself.
Most of them were here, but the Sire.. The Sire was off somewhere. That was fine, Matt thought, he would deal with that one when she came back. In the foyer sat three of them, laid around in a partial circle of chairs and they all greeted Matt with a smile.
“Hey, Mad Matt! Been a couple of years, where’ve ya been?” One lean LaSombra got up and lazily walked towards him, bright eyes flicking at his cane. With exception of the few bodies that had been switched out in the near decade, there were still Vampires here who clearly remember the fury that destroyed the idiots who ate that infant. They remember Matt’s cane viciously swinging and the Malkavian’s violent decapitation of their brother; and more importantly, how Dorian had asked Matt’s permission before doing it. It left a ghosting image over how they saw Matt and the younger Fangs had done their best to stay on the Frenchman’s side.
Matt grinned back, but it was a bearing of teeth. By the time that the cane clattered on the ground, Matt had charged at the LaSombra and sunk his fingers into his throat. “You shit-stain pricks have been in my house for long enough.” Blood sprayed as Matt tore the man’s throat out and after he chucked it to the side, he grabbed and twisted the poor unfortunate souls’ head off. The long, now truly dead-head bounced in his hand as the other two Vampires in the room stared at him in shock. Matthew let his fangs slip free and allowed his Presence to well inside of him.
Without warning, Matt threw the decapitated head at the woman and hard, busting her nose with her companion’s skull with a sharp loud cry as he turned his eyes onto the other man. “Run or die,” Matt snarled, eyes bright and excited for the bloodlust and the fear. The other’s in the house could smell the spilled blood and rushed in, just in time to watch the two flee past them out the front door. The woman was sobbing but the man was dragging her away. The groups eyes fell on the seemingly too tall Brujah, who slowly turned around to show them the delicate spray of red across his shirt. Mad Matt was known in their circles. They’d all heard about his vices and the way he waged war; his point of pride being that he was fast enough to dodge the spray of blood and usually came out pristine. The spray of color across his shirt sent a clear message. Mad Matt was not in the mood for neatness and a handful of the number bolted out the front door. The rest backed up slowly.
Ten minutes later and Matt was walking calmly up the stairs, the bodies of the people who stayed spread… well, a whole lot of everywhere.
“Maria!” Matt called in a calm, seemingly happy voice. The dark haired beauty stuck her head out of his room with a worried smile that thinly covered a welling panic. “Matthew,” she sighed out, “I’m so glad you’re home, you don’t know what they made me-“ He had made it up to the door by now and her sentence was cut short as he grabbed her harshly by the arm. Maria whimpered and tried to pull away, a hasty explanation on her lips. “Matt, please you don’t understand, they made me do it, they were going to kill me, please, you know I can’t disobey them for you, I-“ A hand clamped over her mouth as Matt dragged her down the stairs and her eyes fell upon the carnage that overtook the first floor.
“Oh Matt, please, please.” Maria knew that his temper had finally had it. Matt didn’t kill like this unless he was furious, furious like the night the child was found dead. He scared her; it was part of the thrill of going to bed with him and she’d toyed with him so long that she thought herself above it. This was so much worse than when Matt found out she had started sleeping with Dorian too.
Matt didn’t say a word, but his lips wouldn’t come down from their hateful curl as he drug her through the foyer and outside, whipping her around and shoving her hard out the door. Maria stumbled out and onto her hands and knees, scrambling back from him as quickly as she could, with genuine fear in her voice, pleading. “Matt please, you know you don’t want to do this, you’re just angry, it’ll pass, it always does, lover.”
“YOU DARED KICKED HIM OUT. AT GUNPOINT, OUT OF HIS HOME. OUT OF MY HOME. YOU AND YOUR DISESE HAS BEEN HERE LONG ENOUGH. I’ve cleaned out everyone else but you and your cumstain of a Sire.” Suddenly, the half filled bucket is in Matt’s hand and the clear gas is tossed at his former lover, soaking her hair and bodice, dripping into her skirt. It takes Maria only a second to figure out what he’s doused her with and it’s enough to put her on her feet to run off the porch edge.
“GET BACK HERE, BITCH.” Matt roared, his humanity ebbing away from him as his temper rears and flashes red over his eyes. Celerity was a wonderful thing, and in a few blinks, he was standing in front of her with a lighter. The flame flickered in the mirror of his eyes and they were empty, darkened and deepened by the unremorseful sneer on his face.
"Burn," Matt swore at her, tossing the lighter at her head and watching as the whole mess of silken darkness lit. Maria screamed as the flames traveled quickly across her frame, wild hands smacking at the fire as she begged Matt to stop. Matt said nothing and didn’t even blink as he watched his lover sink to her knees and die. She deserved it. She deserved it and more. The Brujah left her burning corpse there and started towards the car. The gas was going to be used on the house. This damned house that Matt would see no more of. He knew where the deed was, he knew how to get the money and being undead gave him the time.
Maria had been a mistake from his sister that hadn’t left yet, even though she had far outlived her usefulness or interest to him. Phoebe was no longer here to course him into bedding her or keeping her and Maria had earned her death. The house would be torched down to the tacks and Matt would have it rebuilt. Better. Newer, but still the same floor plans and style. One day, Dorian would want to come back home and Matthew was going to make sure that that happened.
Come hell or high water.