In The Beginning
We used to be called gods, so they say. Fawned on by worshipers who glorified our immortality. They say we governed human lives during the day and that blood ran like a wine fountain during the night from willing devotees. Now we are a part of that society, still glorified by a few, but not gods. We like (and sometimes need) attention and power. At least the old ones do. They like to play their games of the mind and heart, until they are your whole world and you are nothing but a fraction of who you were. Especially if no one claims you. To be unclaimed means to be with out protection and plenty of willing hands to call forth pain and turn it into pleasure. Sometimes for our lifeblood and bleeding, sometimes for sex, and sometimes for both at the same time. Feelings of love and shame, guilt and pleasure whirling behind your eyes as your body says yes and your mind says stop.