"Je connais ton visage…"
Saturday Evening, August 17
It was cold out. Uncharacteristically so for the time of year. Mid to late summer usually brought with it refreshing showers and warm air from the south. However, Lizette found herself
surrounded by pedestrians in long pants and jackets, and she heard a lot less of the annoying "flip-flop-flip-flop"-ing sound than normal.
Over the past half milenia, Lizette had seen some rediculous fashion trends come and go, and those horrible boned corsets that restricted breathing by at least 98% was definitely
towards the top of that list... Though she had to admit to possibly having flaunted her own sixteen-inch waistline and turning many a young maiden all but pea-green with envy. But the
number one trend at the top of her poor-fashion-trends list was definitely the "flip-flop". Even the name sounded silly! So she was glad on those glorious days where it was much too cold
not to cover ones feet. She herself was more commonly than not wearing her most comfortable shoes that she had yet to discover; a pair of black T-straps with two-inch heels, which she
found surprisingly much easier to walk in than those "ballet flats" or "tennis shoes" that all the other girls seemed to prefer.
Today, on this chilly evening-along with her black T-straps, Lizette fashioned a pair of dark-wash hip hugging jeans and a gray sweater over her black knit-tee. And, for a bit of interest, a
cream colored scarf with intricate black embroidery. She enjoyed fashion, though hypocritical she may be with her complaining, she did to some reasonable degree enjoy it.
From behind her oversized sunglasses, she peered around her vehicle-her beloved flashy red Ford Mustang GT350 Shelby which she bought new in 1965-to inspect the other drivers in
the traffic jam. She caught the eye of a blonde girl of high school age who clearly must have been one of the most popular girls in her clique. The girl didn't look away until her bubblegum
popped all over her face and appeared to awaken her back to reality.
Lizette turned to face the windshield again and smirked. She was used to this reaction from women, along with the envious shade of green that evolved around their auras at the sight of
her.
Lizette turned to inspect the driver to her other side, this one was a man probably two to three years her senior with a straight nose and shaggy red hair. And by the way he quickly
turned his face away from her while his ears turned a bright scarlet, she realized that she must have caught him staring at her. She chuckled to herself and moved ahead with the heavy
traffic... she would be arriving at her destination soon.
She was not entirely sure of what drew her here; she had never felt anything like it before. But just the other night, whilst in the midst of a feeding, she had felt its gentle pull. It
reminded her of a small child tugging on his mother's sleeve, it was so light. But it was certainly there, and her curiosity made it much more difficult to ignore.
However, whatever the reason for it might have been, she arrived on the mostly empty two-lane street with a great big sign that was illuminated with a single streetlight that read:
Welcome to
Mystic Falls
est. 1854
and Lizette smiled to herself. She couldn't imagine what might have been drawing her to this small town in Virginia, but she was determined to find out…
Damon sighed with contentment as he dropped the limp girl back to her bed and he licked his lips, feeling quite well fed. As he crawled back out the window, he considered finding a
comfortable tree branch and settling himself in for the night, when he decided to just take a stroll around the block instead. After all, he wasn't quite tired yet…
Immediately upon leaping from the window, he stretched out his arms in a spread-eagle like manner and, suddenly, he literally was spreading his wings, having shifted forms in mid leap.
He had began to head in the direction of the old Fell's Church Cemetary when something caught his eye- or his supernaturally hightened senses: vampiro…
He dove down at a 90 degree angle with the ground and twisted his body ever so slightly to find his perch on a broken streetlight, his sensitive eyes searching for their target… which he
was surprised to find was a 1960's Ford Mustang. He strained his eyes to focus on the tinted windshield, trying to get a good glimpse of the driver. But to his utter dismay, he could not
make out more than the silhouette of a young woman. And though he couldn't determine a reason for it, his heart stuttered when he caught a glimpse of the woman's eyes-impossible to
describe in proper format. Still, Damon was able to shake off the unexplained feeling of de jà vous and swoop down from his perch to follow the mysterious maiden in as nonchalant a
manner as he could manage.
He didn't know what drew him to the maiden. After all, if she caused any trouble in Fell's Church, surely the wonderful Saint Stefan would handle it. But something about her had sparked
his interest and his kanines ached in anticipation. Something about her seemed familiar and he thought for sure that he knew her from somewhere… "I know your face…"
"Je connais ton visage…"