My Bonds: About Abigale

@AbigaleDawson

I met Abigale Stewart quite by accident... at least, I am certain it was an accident on her part. While I am quite accustomed to humans parading through Fangtasia dressed in all the latest revealing leather and latex apparel, I'm sure Abigale wasn't, nor was she used to being one of them. From the moment she stepped foot inside my club, she was out of place, nursing a single drink while gawking in disbelief at the desperate displays for the attention of the undead unfolding around her. It was obvious her companion for the evening had abandoned her early into their arrival. She sat alone at a table, desperate to avoid making eye contact with anyone present. She blended into the scenery as much as she could, happy to be ignored by the population of the club at large.

It was difficult for me not to watch her. She didn't look my direction, something I'm not at all used to. I imagine her friend tipped her off to where the resident vampire of Fangtasia spent his nights and she intentionally avoided laying eyes on her first vampire. I kept waiting for her to be just like every other human who visits the club, but she was determined to be awkward and uncomfortable, disapproving and unimpressed.

Naturally, I had to meet her.

The very first thing she did was spill her drink. I believe that successfully set the tone for my interactions with Abigale Stewart. I sat down at the table behind her and she didn't dare turn around. She spoke to me timidly... complaining of the music, the clothes, the atmosphere, and even of her friend who had abandoned her. She was repulsed by the blatant sexual overtones so many around her threw about as if they were as natural as they truly are.

She was a prude.

And a prude who had little difficulty telling the owner of the very establishment she sat in how awful she found his club. Of course, she didn't know what that was, nor was I quick to admit it as I took the seat across from her. I can recall with complete clarity how she blushed so profusely at everything. I was certain that in her mind, she had played through how her first meeting with a vampire would go and her interaction with me was as far from it as possible.

I love being unpredictable.

I made her dance with me. Truly, I didn't give her a choice in the matter despite her insistence she didn't dance. She had spilled her drink upon my table and floor, insulted my club, spoken ill of those who empty their pocket books nightly into my hands, and was making me nearly starved with the blood constantly rushing to her cheeks. In my opinion- and my opinion is the only one that matters to me- she owed me the dance. I had a feeling the timid, tiny human who spoke defensively of her job at Sandson's New and Used Book Store while desperately trying to conceal her cleavage from my gaze had not seen the last of me when she frantically ran toward the exit.

Like always, I was entirely accurate.

Of course, with Abigale, nothing ever went according to my master plan. Just after our initial meeting, she went out of her way to kick my Corvette as it was parked in the Fangtasia lot. She quickly befriended Nolan Ferrior, who at the time was nothing more than the cat who stood guard at the club's doors, and soon, her attendance at Fangtasia was nearly as guaranteed as Pam's. I often wondered if I should issue her a paycheck, she could so often be found within the walls of the club, cleaning up another's mess. She resisted me fervently at first, though her resolve wavered with the help of ample amounts of alcohol. Talk about bruising my pride...

That was how I managed to get my first taste of Abigale Stewart. I had always known there was something different about her. She was impossible to glamor, and yes, I had tried... often. Her blood was unique though, obvious even when laced with the alcohol pollutant pumping through her veins. She kept her secrets from me though, refusing to reveal what I wanted to know. She was stubborn. I don't know why that trait seems to be so common in the women I pursue, but it certainly seems an unfortunate recurring theme. I was determined to break every resolve she held, however, no matter what.

Fate, however, didn't seem to approve of such a plan.

And by fate I mean Roman, Pam, Nolan, and every other person who repeatedly interrupted a good thing happening.

Despite the reminder of my fangs present on her neck that she will wear eternally in scars, Abigale always refused my blood. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was a fragile human, one who could and would die if pushed too far and there were far too many quite willing to push such a thing. Besides refusing my blood, she often refused to accept or acknowledge that she was mine, even when it would have been beneficial to her. It was, to say the least, discouraging, but that didn't change the fact that I cared for her, and wanted her more completely.

It is amazing, even after a thousand years of existence, one can never really know what will happen. Humans, for as long as I have studied them, can be surprisingly unpredictable as well. One night upon my arrival at Fangtasia, I discovered Roman had been badly injured, and in order to help him heal, Abigale had given him blood. If I was honest with myself, I would say that was when things began changing between the two of us. As stubborn as Abigale is, I am more so. As possessive as any human can ever be, I can trump them with ease.

It didn't make matters any easier that the Prince had arrived in Louisiana, and was targeting Abigale among a few other humans Area Five valued. She was in danger, she hadn't had my blood, and I felt incapable of helping her because of it. If the situation was not complicated enough, there was a great deal of fence-talk, something Roman reminded me of regularly. The future Abigale had envisioned for herself was something I could never give her. While I loathe Weres more often than not, I turned to the aid of Tray Dawson, a friend of Abigale's who I knew would keep her safe. I knew he would because no one could deny the Were wanted to build the fence Abigale ultimately desired at her side. I am also sure he wanted to be for her the things I found myself incapable of being... monogamous, content just sitting at home, not constantly endangered... The list goes on.

It is almost a cruel twist of the fates that Abigale finally had my blood when I was certain she was no longer mine. After Tray was nearly killed in Dallas, I saw what he meant to her, and it was something undeniably intense and powerful. I loathe the Were for these reasons, I always will, but I am at least pleased Abigale is capable of building the fences she desired and is- by her own words- happy.

Unfortunately, I have not seen much of Abigale since that fateful trip to Dallas. I am certain it is nothing short of exhausting wrangling the Weres and Shifters who seem to rely very heavily upon her. I've never seen her new residence (though that's probably a good thing, I imagine it smells terribly of moon mutt) and often only get to see her when we're both attending the same functions. As she prepares to marry her Were, I wonder if the distance will improve or only increase, but that is for the fates to decide. No matter what the fates hold in store, I do not regret Abigale's life buzzing quietly in the background of my mind, and hope she doesn't rue my own in the back of hers.