Even though the rain had fled and left the morning light in its wake, the
dhampir did not retreat. The warmth felt quite strange on her pallid hands
just as the momentum of its ascending form stung her golden eyes. She
smiled.
As the people began to stir about her, a sensation came over her. However, she was not unaware of what was happening. It was not like she was reading their thoughts, as many vampires were notorious for doing, but thriving off of the emotion that pulsated from them. Maybe she heard a whisper of their desires, but maybe she simply did not.
Nothing mattered.
Streets became crowded with the humans' mechanical contraptions. Cars piled up in the oil stained streets, and they momentarily caught the glint of her narrowed eyes as she sat on the steps of one of the rare Christian churches. What irony, the creature of the night laughed to herself.
They were of many colors and they all seemed to be in a hurry. This played out every day. How bland, she moaned.
People acted as if she was not there, and although they probably were paying more attention to their inconsequential tasks than to a strange woman with malicious glimmering eyes, she could easily vanish from them.
She could not literally disappear, but she can blend easily into shadows and walk by those without them even noticing it. If they were not focusing on her to some extent, she could even scream and not be heard. Vampirism did have its advantages.
The ability to feed off of emotions was very useful, but it did not taste the same as the invigorating coppery blood. The Mara, a mythical vampiress who thrived off of young men's dreams, was believed to have first started this technique in vampiric lore, but she was not accustomed to the tales of her half-kin. Half-breeds were not treated well.
Long ago, before this supposedly advanced civilization had been though of, many claimed that the dhampir were doomed to perish, but here she was, the Wretch, amidst the forgetful humans with not a pure vampire in sight.
A boy, who seems to radiate defiance, paced her by. His aura almost overwhelmed her as he stopped and look in her direction.
A whisper.
A tale.
A death.
The whispers told her nothing more. This mere boy intrigued her, which was a rare event. As a wicked grin formed on her wan face, his raven eyes narrowed.
She took her leave through the church's partially open door. Yusuke Urameshi followed suit but there was no trace of this anomaly.
I know well that it is rather short, but I am rather weary at the moment.
Continue on with THE LIFE THAT WAS NEVER TO BE.
As the people began to stir about her, a sensation came over her. However, she was not unaware of what was happening. It was not like she was reading their thoughts, as many vampires were notorious for doing, but thriving off of the emotion that pulsated from them. Maybe she heard a whisper of their desires, but maybe she simply did not.
Nothing mattered.
Streets became crowded with the humans' mechanical contraptions. Cars piled up in the oil stained streets, and they momentarily caught the glint of her narrowed eyes as she sat on the steps of one of the rare Christian churches. What irony, the creature of the night laughed to herself.
They were of many colors and they all seemed to be in a hurry. This played out every day. How bland, she moaned.
People acted as if she was not there, and although they probably were paying more attention to their inconsequential tasks than to a strange woman with malicious glimmering eyes, she could easily vanish from them.
She could not literally disappear, but she can blend easily into shadows and walk by those without them even noticing it. If they were not focusing on her to some extent, she could even scream and not be heard. Vampirism did have its advantages.
The ability to feed off of emotions was very useful, but it did not taste the same as the invigorating coppery blood. The Mara, a mythical vampiress who thrived off of young men's dreams, was believed to have first started this technique in vampiric lore, but she was not accustomed to the tales of her half-kin. Half-breeds were not treated well.
Long ago, before this supposedly advanced civilization had been though of, many claimed that the dhampir were doomed to perish, but here she was, the Wretch, amidst the forgetful humans with not a pure vampire in sight.
A boy, who seems to radiate defiance, paced her by. His aura almost overwhelmed her as he stopped and look in her direction.
A whisper.
A tale.
A death.
The whispers told her nothing more. This mere boy intrigued her, which was a rare event. As a wicked grin formed on her wan face, his raven eyes narrowed.
She took her leave through the church's partially open door. Yusuke Urameshi followed suit but there was no trace of this anomaly.
I know well that it is rather short, but I am rather weary at the moment.
Continue on with THE LIFE THAT WAS NEVER TO BE.
