Shelter from cold
We are never alone
Coordinate brain and mouth
Then ask me what it's like to have myself so figured out
Wish I knew

To say I had amnesia would be incorrect, at least strictly speaking. I did remember things, but they were always indistinct with a grainy quality to them that felt like watching an old Hollywood movie through a nearly-opaque kaleidoscope. They were along the lines of an impression or feeling more than they told a story, and nearly all of them caused me either great agony or great joy.

I knew the memory of piano music, lilting and haunting, was unendurable, so when I chose to occupy my time with learning an instrument I chose the violin.

I knew the memory of some place very green and bright brought with it feelings of contentment and peace, so I spent much of the time I was catatonic and unmoving in a meadow alight with wildflowers and, occasionally, sunshine.

I knew I had had a father that loved me, because I could recall the echo of a big belly laugh and I knew that I had held a dislike for rain and that I was not keen on presents.

This was all I had - flashes, glimpses, blips and pieces. I used them to construct some semblance of self, and although I had no name for her it was a small comfort she was able to exist at all.

—

EST. 2007

For the first year I was a vampire, I had been content to simply remain nameless, wandering the mountains without any other contact, human and vampire alike. The immense pressure I felt when trying to recall any memory at that point in time, let alone my name, had been suffocating. I knew I had memories because they had flashed behind my lids as I burned, but it seemed that the venom that transformed and burned me also scalded my past, singeing and warping my recollections until they were hardly recognizable. It wasn't until I ran into a coven of nomads, approximately two years after I was reborn, that I'd even had need of a name.

EST. 2008

They had come across the plains to the east, two females and a male, and had come across my scent when I drifted aimlessly in the vicinity of Mt. Hood. I remembered that I had been draining a black bear when their scent washed across me, blown in by a coming rainstorm. I immediately dropped the beast in my arms and spun around, noting the venom that welled in my mouth and how the hair on the nape of my neck prickled and the way my hands curled themselves into claws. They appeared on top of a ridge about half a mile out and, seeing another of their kind, made to approach. I warred with myself - run or fight, run or fight - before I settled uneasily on seeing what they wanted. I knew I was a vampire from my wretched cloudy memory and I knew there were others out there, but I had never actually seen any before, let alone spoken to them. I was able to admit to myself later after they had moved on that perhaps the reason I didn't flee immediately into the trees was because I was lonely, although the admission sent me into another crippling bout of reticent stagnation.

I fought back a hiss as they approached, and worked on settling my face into something between cautious and curious. The lone male spoke first, still a good 500 feet away, but of course I heard him clear as day. "My name is Clint. We were just traveling through," he said, motioning to his female counterparts. "We scented you in the area and came to introduce ourselves." I eyed them warily, trying to discern any ill intent. He was tall, with somewhat shaggy hair that was strawberry blonde and cut into what he likely intended to be an edgy sort of faux hawk but was too windblown to be sure. The two females couldn't have looked farther apart in appearance, one tall and statuesque with wild, tightly coiled black locks down to her shoulders, the other petite and slightly androgynous with ginger hair in a severe bob.

Clint regarded me for a beat longer before speaking again to introduce the women, apparently deciding I was not going to run away or accost them. "This is Georgette," gesturing to the tall raven beauty, "and Francine," this time to the smaller redhead. "And you are..?" I reeled for a moment, temporarily alarmed that while I knew I should have a name, it was the first time that bothered me that I didn't.

He must have seen the panic on my face, because at that moment Clint began to creep forward, and I was cognizant enough to fortunately recognize the concern in his features, otherwise I would have attacked like the feral beast I knew I was.

"Are you.. okay..?" The query struck me in its oddness because this man did not know me, but I was suddenly very desperate for this contact. The words began to spill out before I thought to stop them.

"NO!" I screamed, alarming them slightly. "No, I am not okay! I don't know who.. or where.. or how.." If a vampire could hyperventilate, I would have been. As it was, I simply stood there, my eyes and brain wheeling.

Clint spoke again, his tone pacifying like I were a child. To them, although I only found out after, I was. "Slow down. We mean you no harm. Please, explain."

"I.." The words threatened to choke me. "My name.. I, umm.. I don't know my name. Someone.. someone.." I swallowed convulsively, "Someone changed me. But I don't know who, or why, or who I am." I could feel the tears behind my eyes, desperation and panic leaking into my voice and expression. "Please, help me."

And so they did. We built a fire, and they spent the rest of the afternoon and evening both listening to and educating me. I sat on a log, fidgeting and nervous, as I explained poorly why I dined on elk and bears - I don't know why I did not mention that I avoided mountain lions like my life depended on it. They mentioned a coven in New England, where they'd come from, who was the same and only fed on animals. The simultaneous agony and relief I felt when I learned this was jarring to say the least. Relief - my choice was apparently not too strange, there were others who did not harm humans. Agony - I did not know why. They laughed in awestruck amazement at how I did not scream while I burned and told me they did not think it had ever been done before, and they had been alive for nearly fifty years and been all across this Earth. They told me that that feat alone was colossal.

I learned that Clint and Georgette were what they called a 'mated pair' and that they had found the mute Francine outside Montréal. She was being abused by her alcoholic father and sold into marriage when Clint and Georgette found her, and she wordlessly begged them to take her, and that they had been together since. I was taught about talents - Francine could cause paralysis with her thoughts, and that the reason it did not work on me was because I was a shield. They helped me practice through the night, although I did not perfect that skill for another 13 years.

More practically they helped me become human again, for lack of a better word. Georgette gifted me her shampoo, conditioner and body wash and a fresh set of clothes. I was embarrassed and perturbed I was still in the same outfit I had been in when I was changed. She gave me a brush to comb the snarled wild mess that was my hair.

More than anything else, they sat in silent trepidation as I tried to unearth my past, heaving against scorched blackness of my memory. Their silent companionship, while still tenuous and somewhat awkward, was welcome after so many seconds of being alone. Finally, as they made to leave after dawn, they had a name by which to call me.

The context was not clear, with pieces missing and scratched out, but it was still there. I ... ELL . I knew Iell was not a name, so I settled on Elle. The next part was so clear I immediately began to sob, dry and heaving and tinged with madness, as the voice in my memory spoke one word. It was clear, and was the most beautiful sound I knew I would ever hear in my immortal existence, and brought on so much pain that I knew it belonged to the one person I would give anything to remember. ' .. Masen...'

And so I smiled sadly as I heard Clint call back, his words a whisper on the breeze, "It was good to meet you, Elle Masen."