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Post by Marina Anne Sinclaire on Aug 4, 2013 23:51:30 GMT -6
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Her dark eyes watched as he relaxed and seemed to find a moment to collect himself, he needed what comfort he could get from his memories. She took a step back and looked over at him, he seemed to be adapting well. His body was shifting slowly, becoming stronger and swifter. He’d have to learn how to do some of the basic skills like running swiftly, using his senses, tracking animals. There were a 101 things he needed to be able to do and he needed to be able to do them fast. “Tomorrow night we begin your skills training. Its just basic survival skills, learning how to hunt animals for food, learning how to run swiftly, how to use the skills we vampires have.” She said as she looked about her to figure out what she should do next.
“Well, I’ll be honest. It won’t taste as good as human blood or help you with your skills as much as human blood will but we’ve got to start you out slow. Some vampires drink blood from the red cross or blood banks but with so many here its probably wiser to just stick with animal blood.”
“Oh, Yes. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you any more. Have a good rest, Chris.” She got up and practically ran out the door. She wasn’t wanting anything more than being a friend. She wasn’t ready for anything he was even slightly suggesting. It scared her. She didn’t know this man, he was in a volatile and newly turned. He’d want things because his instincts told him he wanted them. He’d give into his desires and his wants and she wasn’t wanting to be an impulse for anyone’s desires.
She closed the door and went to her room. She exhaled, her life may be lonely but she knew it would get better slowly, not in a rush of passion but in a slow understanding. The man who wanted her would be willing to wait. She’d make sure he wanted to be with her. Moving to her wing in the home she climbed up the stairs to her tower, locking the door behind her. Grabbing up her embroidery, she began to work on a piece to soothe her nerves. Softly humming to herself in her workroom. Here she made clothing, embroidered and painted, whatever struck her fancy. After three hundred and fifty years she had amassed a pretty good skill set for the arts. -----------------------[/b][/center] |
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Post by matthew on Aug 5, 2013 23:28:57 GMT -6
---------------- ---------------- Chris watched her run out of the room. He was only kidding around. What was it about her. Of what little she had told him she has had a hard life. His thoughts turned to those sad eyes again. What was it about her, Sure he has had girlfriends before. But nothing like the way he felt when he looked into her eyes.
He laid down on the bed. It felt soft, softer then any bed he had laid on before. He looked up at the ceiling as he could hear the noise of the city as if he was standing on the sidewalk. He could smell the gas from cars and breakfast being cooked. It was overwhelming. But he was able to block most of it out. Or just simply ignore it. As much as he seemed to be taking it well. Deep down he was scared. What would happen the next time he got that feeling? And what triggered it? Would someone end up dead. He thought about ending his life. But he owed it to his mother to go on living. Even if she thought he was dead. And in a way he was.
Chris feel asleep and awoke just before sunset. It took a moment for his sleepy mind to recall the passed events. And once he did a sadness came over him. Looking over at the clock he realized it was about sunset. It would be the last time he would see the sun he thought. He got up and dressed into his blue jeans and plain black tee. He ran a hand through his hair. Slipped on his sneakers and he was out of his room.
It was not hard to find the front door in this mansion. It was not fair from his room. No one was around as he opened the door. The light was purple and haze. The sun was starting its downward journey. Soon a blanket of darkness would cover the city. It seemed the perfect metaphor for Chris right now. His humanity was gone.
He stood in the door stretching his arm out to feel what sun he could. But the feeling he got was that of pain. As if he had touched a hot skillet. Chris pulled his hand back. He watched as the blister faded as if it was never there. He looked at it in wonder.
Watching the sunset for the last time he smiled but inside he was hit was every emotion. Somewhere out there was that thing that turned him into this. The one that took the sun away from him. He hoped one day he would have the pleasure of killing it. ---------------- |
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Post by ADMIN ASHLEY on Aug 8, 2013 23:01:32 GMT -6
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