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for insufficientjewel.
Feb. 26th, 2022 10:26 pmA man's footfalls, light for his size, and coming closer. Were she not dazed with hunger, this would be her sign to flee, to become once more one with the night, gone half a mile before he has so much as a chance at rounding this corner. This hunger is a frightening one, though, it cuts deep and for the first time since she herself was turned, Celeste fears what might come after. If she does not feed, what madness might befall her? If she is so close to losing her senses in the presence of her victim now, what will happen if she flees, if she means to last through another day, to hunt another night? Few are out past curfew these days, and fewer are inclined to invite strangers into their homes past sundown. The woman before her is her safest wager.
And not only because she has already fallen under her spell, having forgotten those pleas for aid and mercy she'd uttered at the first sight of her attacker's fangs. The woman is still now, stiff as a board, and though there is sentience yet flickering behind her eyes, she cannot fight a vampire's might. She almost pities her: it is not, she recalls, a pleasant feeling.
The steps come closer, though, and there is no time to search for humanity in her unbeating heart. Even in life, she would not have chosen it. This may no longer be a question of life and death, but she is seeing double, hearing echoes, and she cannot wait another night, cannot last another scalding day, if she does not do as her nature commands.
She leans forward, then, presses her victim bodily against the wall, buries her fangs in her neck and smells a man's scent so close as though βΒ
She is grabbed, drawn back, and though her strength by far outdoes that of her opponent, her dazed state is enough to stop her. "This does not concern you," she murmurs, eyes half shut as she means to keep her victim under her control. The woman slides to the ground, rattled by the pain of the bite, and it is more difficult to keep her hypnotised when facing away from her. "Leave this place, good sir, or find yourself in trouble beyond your reckoning."
And not only because she has already fallen under her spell, having forgotten those pleas for aid and mercy she'd uttered at the first sight of her attacker's fangs. The woman is still now, stiff as a board, and though there is sentience yet flickering behind her eyes, she cannot fight a vampire's might. She almost pities her: it is not, she recalls, a pleasant feeling.
The steps come closer, though, and there is no time to search for humanity in her unbeating heart. Even in life, she would not have chosen it. This may no longer be a question of life and death, but she is seeing double, hearing echoes, and she cannot wait another night, cannot last another scalding day, if she does not do as her nature commands.
She leans forward, then, presses her victim bodily against the wall, buries her fangs in her neck and smells a man's scent so close as though βΒ
She is grabbed, drawn back, and though her strength by far outdoes that of her opponent, her dazed state is enough to stop her. "This does not concern you," she murmurs, eyes half shut as she means to keep her victim under her control. The woman slides to the ground, rattled by the pain of the bite, and it is more difficult to keep her hypnotised when facing away from her. "Leave this place, good sir, or find yourself in trouble beyond your reckoning."
