It is, indeed, nighttime. The cold air gave her nothing as close to a shiver, despite her sheer cover-up and the short backless dress she's wearing underneath. Claraphernelia stood there looking at the modern white-painted house in front of her while the darkness engulfs her tall form. The light that came from the streetlights gave her skin a dewy look and a tint of a lovely shine on the roots of her dark hair. A smile slowly crept to her facial features, if there was anyone looking back at her they would've been astonished by her unmistakable beauty.

Something in her handbag vibrates before it rings quietly. She fiddles and took it pressing a few buttons, the little gadget shows her a new message from a close acquaintance of hers and again, she can't help but feel delighted to have something that is so fascinating! Imagine how you're able to get information so fast and accurate! Humans clearly have graduated from their dumb days, although they are still technically dumb in some ways. But she had learned not to expect much from them—not since the early 1540s, when the people accuse her of being a witch. A witch! Claraphernelia can't help but feel insulted, and it's not normally what her kind do!

But the pity fades as quickly as it came before when she sensed the laughter and delight the people inside of the house is feeling. Before she can't help herself, she grins widely because that's what people's happiness does to her. Another fact is because she knows what they're happy about and she can relate to it. Her friend is back, and she has so many questions for him! He's one of the oldest people she knows and they understood each other. But this madness, she cannot. And the curiosity she has piling up inside her only excites her much more.

Two thousand years could feel just like yesterday when you cherish the memories, and how could she ever forget meeting Godric?

. . .

Claraphernelia likes the woods. It gives her some sort of soothing feeling, and she isn't talking about the pleasant autumn wind. And there's something she's seeking, something she hopes to find here and now. Comfort.

She lies on her back there on a field of grass with an icy frown on her face. She can't fight it off despite her body's need to get rid of the unwanted feeling. She lifts her head and upper body up to a sitting position, whom is she kidding? Why won't she get over it—angels aren't supposed to die. Or maybe they do, it's sad that she's a mutant in her own kind.

Today marked her 1500th birthday—a gloatable age, of course. Does she know anyone whose age could compete with hers? With years and years of living, she ought to feel different, more clever, more strong, better. Sure, she learnt a lot and she founds out she could do things others can never do, but what's the point when no one is allowed to see it?

She closed her eyes with a sigh letting her wings spread and close again to disappear, remembering what the strange creatures told her when they abandoned her here on earth. Oh and if she knew what horrible things they were going to stay, she would cover her ears and hide somewhere deep, pretending nothing is wrong.

She remembers living high up there in the clouds with her brothers and sisters and play all day and night long. She was happy living with them, until that day.

"You do not belong here," he had said.

Claraphernelia is not sure who he is exactly; neither do her brothers and sisters. All she knows is that they worship him and fulfill his every need. She feels odd that they feel obligated to do whatever it is that he wants. And she feels it's strange that they can't do things that she occasionally does. Claraphernelia had called them cowards, and this caused many eyebrows to rise.

She had been told that she's not a pure angel. Apparently her mother had an affair with another creature that then made a one-of-a-kind seed. The other creature is, in fact a demon. They had explained that this made the one who has the power confused where to put her. It then decides that she should be disposed, but her mother begged for it not to happen and do anything else instead. Then it was decided that she was to be put to earth forever, in her half-angel, half-demon form.

She wishes that her mother would choose the first choice instead.

Guaranteed, she is different. From the very start she knows that angels aren't supposed to feel nor they could do anything they want to do. Their purpose in life is to worship God and do what he needs them to do. But not Claraphernelia, she doesn't feel obligated to do such things. She feels bad when she does unpleasant things—even a scowl could hurt her insides. Angels are supposed to be happy, and her mother's the one who gave birth to her, so she was more an angel than a demon. That's what keeps her straight all these years. But unlike other angels, she could think and she could do things they can't. Because of it she's considered a threat; she is really doomed to be here forever.

There's one thing Claraphernelia is sure of, though.

She wants to die.

1500 years in misery is enough for her, she is tired of her life and she doesn't want it anymore. People are so uncivilized. And they who had abandoned her already warned her not to expose herself. She isn't dumb. She knows what the poorly educated will think of her; a disaster. And it will only cause chaos and unwanted attention. The mystery is how to get her killed. She is so desperate she tried all things possible to commit suicide. But daggers are always not sharp enough and her body destroys the poison before it could do any harm. Animals that are predators like lions and sharks just ignore her. She doesn't need to breathe if she doesn't want to and she could starve for years and not die. Claraphernelia is hopeless. She doesn't want this.

Sighing, she watches as a tear fell down from her eyes to land at the ground beneath her. Slowly, grass grew from the empty patch; even a flower went on growing with it. She giggles to herself. Well, there are some things she could be happy about. Being a half-angel and half-demon, she has her advantages. She has the beauty of an angel and the cruelty of a demon inside her. But both of them won't make her as strong as the real deal. She knows she could make the world a better place or something with her strength or power, but she doesn't actually think it's a good enough reason to stay.

A swift sound of a person moving made her sit up straighter and her eyes widen in alarm. Her daze had made her lower her guard, and she can't possibly let herself be attacked. She cursed to herself in a foreign language for being irresponsibly stubborn; to be around places in the middle of the night. Angels are rather slow on moving, almost as slow as humans, and that is one thing she dislikes. What if the mysterious thing could hurt her? What if it was dangerous?

Then like a lightning bolt, the realization struck on her, reminding her of the previous dilemma she had. What if this thing could kill her? Claraphernelia blinks a couple of times and smiled, taking a deep breath, she closed both of her eyes shut.

'I hope my next destination will be heaven once again,' she thought with a nod. After waiting what seems like centuries, finally a hand grabbed a side of her neck and roughly tilted it to the side. The coldness it has caught her by surprise that she opened her eyes to meet a pair of shiny fangs. A vampire, she realized. Taking another breath, she closed her eyes again and waited almost anxiously for the pain. To feel the rush humans have like when she saw them die.

It never came.

Impatient, she finally opened her eyes in a glare, huffing at the brown-haired vampire. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

The surprised vampire looks even more taken aback from the statement the girl in front of him gave. "Um," he gulped with uncertainty, the girl's neck he's still holding. "I'm sure for the period of my three-hundred-eighty-three years of living, I never witnessed a person who allows me to have their blood so willingly."

"And I'm sure if you'd comprehend the subject about your species a whole lot more, you'll be able to understand the vampire's ability to glamour their prey and make them obey," she replied sharply, but then quickly apologized. An angel shouldn't be caught saying such terrible choice of words, her insides hurt when she does.

He chuckled in response while studying her features intently. She sounds older than what she looks like. But she clearly isn't a vampire, because she has this sickly sweet smell whilst a vampire's scent is close to none. Her skin isn't pale like his even though she has a fair complexion. But his astonishment rose when he searched her heartbeat and found nothing. "What are you?" he thought out loud.

"I'm telling you the truth if I told you that don't know myself," Claraphernelia offered him a weak smile, "Now if you would finish your earlier action, it would be highly appreciated."

The vampire seemed to consider what his next move should be is. He doesn't know what she is but the scent is overwhelmingly sweet and not to mention he is really thirsty. "What if your blood is poison to me?"

"I doubt that it is, I could sense your need, vampire. So you should do what you have to do."

It doesn't need to be spoken twice because his thirst then got the best of him; he planted his teeth to her neck, sucking on it wildly. Claraphernelia's eyelids fluttered at the twitch when his fangs made contact with her skin. After a short period, she felt his teeth no more. "You-you heal!" She thought she heard him talk and she turns her head to his direction to find him looking far, far more confused than before.

"How- how did my blood taste?" She rubbed the side of her neck, and surely enough, she can't feel any bite marks.

"The best thing that I have ever tasted." He said without a blink, wiping the remaining blood on the corners of his mouth, "but strangely, I don't feel full. I would've if I had fed on a…human," there's an uncertainty in his voice, "but I want more, and I don't think that having more of your blood will be the cure. What's wrong?"

He noticed the sad expression she had on her face when she realized that not even a vampire could kill her. "So my blood is just a type of addiction, then. I assume the wound heal the moment you have your fangs out?"

The vampire nodded, curiosity still dancing on his eyes as he moved to sit beside her. They both studied each other's features. Almost comparing one to another. She took interest at his choice of tattoos, she remembers seeing similar ones in the past hundred years. The vampire then smiled, and did a thing that actually surprised Claraphernelia; he gave his hand forward, offering a handshake. With uncertainty, she did the same and warmly smiled at the feelings the stranger in front of him is feeling. She could sense happiness in him, which makes him loosen up. "I feel odd for not introducing myself to the lady," he chuckled, "My name is Godric. Vampire."

Claraphernelia laughed at the late mention, she thinks it's funny to be speaking like that, like they're some sort of species, "Hello, Godric, my name is Claraphernelia."

"Claraphernelia," Godric echoed and wrinkled his nose, "That's quite a mouthful, we have to work on that, obviously," he earned another laugh from her lips, "You won't tell me what you are, would you?"

"I will if I actually know what I am, Godric. I'm an…" she struggled for the right words while he just sits there patiently, "You can't say I'm an angel because that's only one part of me, and you can't say I'm a demon because that's another part of me and I don't really think I'm fond of people assume me as such."

The vampire in front of her blinked in shock, "Really? So you're old, then?"

"What, my facial features show so?" She joked, immediately causing him to stutter an apologize which she only waved at, "Yes. Today's my 1500th birthday,"

Unable to stiffen a laugh at Godric's failed success to hold his amusement, she did. "Where are you from Cara-Claraphernaya?"

"Claraphernelia," she corrected, "And that's another question I don't know the answer to," shrugging, she adds, "I'd like to think I had fallen from heaven but I don't think that's exactly true. Because in my opinion, heaven's a place for you to be happy and surely a place like that won't throw you away like scum."

"I would never think of you like anything such!" Godric raised his voice, his eyebrows furrowing, "if I could speak my opinion, I would think that you're simply an angel and I'm thinking of picking a short name for you. Claraphernulla seems so hard to memorize."

"Why do you feel an immensity to give me a short name?"

"Well, we're friends, aren't we?" He looked at her like she's a fool, "And the first friendly act I'll give to you is to give you a rather uncomplicated name."

What he said startled her, but she can't help the smile that again formed on her lips. Yes, angels are supposed to be happy all the time but how could she not when she's accompanied with a boy who's so kind! "I can't argue with that, but you're wrong when you said I'm a 'pure angel'."

Godric looked at her with the same expression he had on her before, "Well you've been acting like one since we've met."

"Angels have fluffy white wings," she explained, slowly letting her wings show and spread wide, causing Godric's eyes to widen once again, "not mine."

His eyes traveled to her back, at her suddenly exposed wings. His uncertain gaze looks like he's asking permission and she nods, his hand found its way to it, feeling. Godric looked amazed at the brown and textured wings in front of him; it looks strong and hard, but still beautiful. He's smiling in wonder when he looked at her, "Funny. I thought after three hundred and eighty years I had saw everything."

"Trust me, even after a thousand and five hundred years I think I haven't saw nothing." She offered a smile.

"Are you sure you're not a shape-shifter? A very skilled one? Your wings look like a hawk's." He rubs the wings again, but then scrunched his nose, "no, I don't think so. Shape-shifters are quite savages. They're dirty and their blood tastes strange, unlike yours. Forgive me for even thinking it."

"It's okay," she giggled at the funny ticklish feeling his hand made on her wings, "it's what friends do, right? Tell the truth."

Godric lifted his gaze from her interesting set of wings and smiled at her, "yes, Clara. I think so too."

"Clara?" She raised her eyebrow at him in question.

"Yes, Clara! That just comes in my mind. Why change the name when yours is already wonderful?" his eyes twinkled, "Just shorten it. What do you think? Surely, I'm not the only one who had ever think your name is quite a mouthful, right? I'm sorry to offend you."

"No you didn't!" she laughed at his confused face. "I like it, in fact I love it!" Claraphernelia—Clara grinned, "You're a good friend, Godric. Even if I had only known you for the last past hour."

He grinned at her, lightly fixing his spiky hair, "I think you are one too. Besides, you're my first friend since I got into this… life. Who knows, maybe in another hundred years we'll still be friends." Her wings closed and disappeared. Again, Godric's face turned into awe when he saw that her back is bare, but decided that it would be a question for another day. He lay down at the grass, gazing at the moon and the woman that joined to lie beside him with a grin.

Clara returned it and shrugged, "maybe even in another thousand years we'll still be friends."

"I'd like to think I get to live past a thousand years."

"With you around? Yes, me too."

. . .

Smiling at the memory she had for over two thousand years, she then walked towards the house with no hesitation. Clara walks with grace almost like walking on clouds like an—well, like an angel. She peeks inside the windows to see people, both humans and vampires (another interesting fact!) mingling and talking. And from the window furthest from the door, she could see just a shadowy glimpse of her best friend. The door is opened and from the moment she had her foot inside, dozens of heads turned towards her. Vampires, of course, those who could smell her scent. Godric had explained to her that his kind would feel immensely drawn to her, but their curiosity and caution will buy her enough time to run. She feels safe here, though; no one would hurt her inside a sheriff's 'nest'.

She recognizes the looks they had in their eyes. The vampires for obvious reasons and humans are curious for what is it the vampires found interesting. That and the fact that her beauty is just so magnetic. A certain girl caught her attention and made her eyes sparkle in interest as she stole a glance towards them again when she walks to the next room. The blonde human girl is special; of course, she had sensed that the moment Clara looked at her. Something about her mind, Clara thought, she recognizes the pull the girl attempts to do to her, but of course she couldn't get anything except maybe feelings. The other blonde boy standing next to them surely is her brother or something related to her, they look quite similar and that's not only because of the same hair color. Pausing mid-step, Clara gave her a warm smile before walking again. Clara stiffed a laugh when it's her brother who raised his hand to wave dazedly back. And before she knew it, a wall of black was in front of her.

And she could ever recognize the musky smell ever so much, she lifted her head up to find the blue eyes of her friend's child. He looked around the room to give a light warning towards everyone that has been staring. Clara could feel the room start to go into normal mood once again, but still with slight tension. Then he sighs and smiles at her, surprise apparent on his eyes. "Eric," she greeted with a grin, "It's been so long!"

Eric chuckled as he engulfed her into a hug, his strength doesn't do anything to her that they shared an almost mutual strength, if she doesn't steady herself though, Eric could've easily been able to lift her from the ground. Eric is fond of his maker's friend. In fact she's one of the very little people he could ease up to. She knows what the real Eric is like, and she's unafraid to tell him things that could offend him or such, and he's actually okay with that. Eric longed to see her, and when she finally shows up of course he shows his happiness. "Claraphernelia, always a pleasure. I missed you… and of course how magnificent you taste."

Clara pulled away from his grasp to give him a poke on his chest, a playful scowl on her face. "And that is the oh so convenient way to greet your elders, isn't it?"

"Well, I'd always like to think of you as equals," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, but Clara knows he has huge respect towards her and is only kidding, "you look fantastic." Clara watches as his eyes would occasionally flicker to someone behind her then back to her face. Though he tries to hide it, and very well indeed, she had known him for so long and could see through his deepest walls. Noticing the look Clara has on her face, Eric stopped doing so, and fixed another smile on his handsome face for her.

"And you are still always meddling around, right, Eric?" She laughs.

He rolls his eyes, "And you are still the only one who is going to use the damned word around me and not feel the slightest bit afraid about it."

"Who is she?" Sookie echoed the thought she had inside her mind in wonder. The real question she has inside her head is what, but surely that wouldn't be appropriate to use. The beautiful woman that got in earlier is riveting to her, fascinating! The way she lured the vampires and humans to look at her!

Sookie tried to figure out what she is by reading her mind, but she could only gather her feelings, which are mostly happy and warm. This fact loosened her up but adds worry. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when the woman turns her face towards her and smiles like she knows everything she's thinking. "Wow," Sookie nods at her walking figure, "who the hell is she?"

"I don't know," her brother Jason said with a cheesy grin beside her, waving at the girl quite dazedly, "but if she is a vampire she would be a VILF."

Sookie ignores her brother's comment and notices that Eric now had stood in front of the woman. He glares around the room until everyone got the point and returned to their previous activities. She saw him sigh and do something she never thought she'd ever saw him do—he smiles at the mysterious woman. And after she said something to him he pulled her into a hug, an awkward one, as she looks it. It looks like Eric's body is going to swallow her seemingly-fragile body.

Now Sookie is really determined to know who this woman is, and what her relationship is with Eric.

"Whoa," Jason rubs his abs, "that girl is even more pretty than Julia Roberts. And Julia Roberts is the 'Pretty Woman'! Ha! Do you get it, Sook? 'Pretty-Woman'?"

She only rolls her eyes at her brother's bad attempt at joking while he cackles to himself, "seriously Jason… sometimes I don't even know how we could ever be related.

. . .

"How is your child? Pamela?"

"She's fine, taking over the bar in Shreveport whilst I take care of business," Eric nods, seeming delighted and proud talking about her child. And Clara knows all too well about the relationship between a child and its maker. Look at Eric and Godric, for example, and how many years she spent with them together, "You're good at names, Clara," he nudged her arm as he complimented her, "and it's been over three-thousand years for you. That's a good thing, Pam could use a talent like that."

Clara snorted, which is not a suitable laugh for an angel of course, and it made Eric form an amused smile, "She's perfect, Eric. In fact, she's a lot like you on the stubborn department, send her my hello."

"You must do it yourself when you finally make a visit to Fangtasia," he scowls, "you should see how good it's going for me."

"I will, I'm not dying any soon, am I?" Clara forced a laugh but the slight pity in Eric's eyes made her stop and just smile at him. He knows about her dillema, of course. "Now are you going to stand in front of me all night long? I believe I'm here to see my friend."

"Aren't I yours?" Eric laughed, "I'm kidding, he's right behind me. There was a slight situation before and it bothers him. Come." Eric angled his body backwards and left so she could walk through. Eric halted her into a stop by putting an arm around her shoulder, "there he is."

But Clara doesn't feel the weight of Eric's arm or listened to what he says, there sat in front of him is her best friend, in a white shirt and pants. His eyes are closed, and she likes his hair –although his spiky one will always be a favorite. Godric's still as beautiful as always. He looks like he doesn't even realize she's there. So she cleared her throat softly, gaining his attention as he opened his eyes, and it goes wider and wider.

"Oh," he said, amusement clear on his face as he formed a big smile, "I didn't thought that it was true; that it was you peeking through the window." He smiles when he saw her sheepish expression and Eric laughs, "Clara, it's been so long."

Claraphernelia longed for times like these for so long, these are the times she feels truly happy, to see her friends and her very best friend. She couldn't help the teary smile she had on her face, "well, you're not going to make me walk all the way there, right?"