i'm insane
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?
Valan's gaze was lost to the world, her expression gentled as she stared out at the expanse of water. The star scape above was reflected off of the waves, as the came crashing down, and the maiden lost from time slowly walked into the wake. Salted waves caressed her limbs, as if afraid to act up against the predator it felt entering the wake. She turns her gaze down, the moonlight skin lighting up her form from below, and she stares impassively at the reflection in the water, the too dark-rimmed eyes that showed she'd been likely slept too long. The long stained treks down her cheeks that no amount of cleaning could removed. The crack like marks that shattered across her hide, some actual cracks in the deepest, heaviest sections, as if her entire being was trying to tear herself apart.
It wasn't, she knew that. She'd been alive for a long time, the marks were merely leftover reminders of how he had tried to kill her. How he had tried. Of course, she'd been the one, in the end, to tear out his throat, putting her new fangs to use as she quelled the fire in her throat, and found her own sense of identity as a newly waken 'dead'. Because, should she really be considered alive if she didn't need to breathe? Didn't need to eat. Didn't need to sleep, or to bleed, or for her heart to beat. Her reflection's muzzle split into a dark smirk, a look she'd seen other vampires take, but the look still looked so foreign, the lines too harsh. She softened the look, the dark smirk first warming, almost playful before the smirk lessened to a smile that grew warmer, almost motherly, caring, and she felt herself recognizing the reflection once more.
She was glad her sire didn't seem upset that she had retained the delicate kindness she had held when she was alive, that she hadn't turned dark and bloodthirsty as the years trailed on. That despite all this time, that first kill was still her only kill. Valan knew the truth, knew why. Even as the moonlight reflected off the fangs, she knew it was because deep down, in her heart, she couldn't care about others, their wellbeing, their happiness, their lives. They weren't the prey to her predator, they were friends she hadn't met yet, with lives and families and stories all their own. Valan lifted her face from her reflection, wild wine curls dancing on the ocean breeze that carried over waves. She might not be your typical vampire, but that worked out just fine for her.
She turned back from the water, stepping back to the shore with short, easy steps, the grace of a predator, despite her less than predatory stance on life. But she wasn't ready to go home, she had only just woken up from a couple hundred years of hibernation, and she was eager to meet others, to explore, to see this world, to get to know this land, what Novus had turned into in the many, many, many years it had been since she had walked the lands. Eager to relearn the landmarks that had changed, and most importantly to her:
Valan was eager to make new friends.
It wasn't, she knew that. She'd been alive for a long time, the marks were merely leftover reminders of how he had tried to kill her. How he had tried. Of course, she'd been the one, in the end, to tear out his throat, putting her new fangs to use as she quelled the fire in her throat, and found her own sense of identity as a newly waken 'dead'. Because, should she really be considered alive if she didn't need to breathe? Didn't need to eat. Didn't need to sleep, or to bleed, or for her heart to beat. Her reflection's muzzle split into a dark smirk, a look she'd seen other vampires take, but the look still looked so foreign, the lines too harsh. She softened the look, the dark smirk first warming, almost playful before the smirk lessened to a smile that grew warmer, almost motherly, caring, and she felt herself recognizing the reflection once more.
She was glad her sire didn't seem upset that she had retained the delicate kindness she had held when she was alive, that she hadn't turned dark and bloodthirsty as the years trailed on. That despite all this time, that first kill was still her only kill. Valan knew the truth, knew why. Even as the moonlight reflected off the fangs, she knew it was because deep down, in her heart, she couldn't care about others, their wellbeing, their happiness, their lives. They weren't the prey to her predator, they were friends she hadn't met yet, with lives and families and stories all their own. Valan lifted her face from her reflection, wild wine curls dancing on the ocean breeze that carried over waves. She might not be your typical vampire, but that worked out just fine for her.
She turned back from the water, stepping back to the shore with short, easy steps, the grace of a predator, despite her less than predatory stance on life. But she wasn't ready to go home, she had only just woken up from a couple hundred years of hibernation, and she was eager to meet others, to explore, to see this world, to get to know this land, what Novus had turned into in the many, many, many years it had been since she had walked the lands. Eager to relearn the landmarks that had changed, and most importantly to her:
Valan was eager to make new friends.
for goodness sake
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope
