She had been wearing a cardigan, but she'd stripped it off because she had started crying.(premise: I'm going to use the catalyst of Pi crossing Illusionist, Mystic and Seeker as reason for her to sire a human, if you have a human you want sired, throw it in. I'll choose the lucky human charrie through RP! I'm going to run two threads contemporaneously.. so bear with me) This RP takes place, just before she leans up against the pole here
Her tank top had been neatly tucked into her jeans as well, but she thought maybe that had come undone when Brujo had taken her under his wing. It wasn't that he said much to her, in fact his complete lack of vocalisation had given her pause but somehow, in his way he had transferred great leaps of knowledge to her, had opened her mind to the possibility of her 'other-ness'.
She'd always believed herself a pragmatic sort. She was never prone to hysterics or emotional outbursts. She had taken a look at the hand she had been dealt and had proceeded to carve something worthwhile out of it. It wasn't always a path she was proud of but she had come out the other side of it mostly intact. But Brujo had shown her something else, something new about her ability to be... other. More. Something magical.
It hurt a little, learning what had to be learned to be this 'other' being. It shouldn't have surprised her that it was so, but it did. It hurt in her mind because her pragmatic nature kept trying to assert itself.
And once she began the journey she couldn’t, wouldn’t stop. She didn’t let it end there on the Cherrydale street. She bugged him until her mind expanded, grew in upon herself. She needed to know more. She wanted to know how it worked and why. How does the mind trick a human into bending its neck so she could feed. What parts of the brain fired in them, and in herself to make the feat possible. Questions piled upon questions until they clamoured for a release.
So she cried.
Except her tears were blood because she suspected she wasn’t meant to cram all that she had in one sitting. She was full to bursting; a bloated tick, drunk and drinking still, drowning in the whirling eddy of all the endless possibilities that had opened up in her mind.
Her tears were blood.
But she didn’t understand where they came from. She had never heard (or experienced) wraith guide’s teaching doing this to a vampire, so she had no measure with which to compare. It could have been her own physiology to blame but she was immortal now, so it hardly seemed possible at all. Except there she was. Her mind awash with more information than it could possible hold, pushing against the walls, making her feel sea sick and wretched.
God, she was hungry. Hungry and … tense. Pi, should probably not have done it this way. And she probably shouldn’t have done it on an empty stomach. A too empty stomach because it had been a couple days since she’d remembered to drink… something.
Lurching down the barely populated street she tried to get her bearings. With a groan she spun on her heel and lurched the other way. She really, really, really needed to get back to Lancaster’s … she could find a quiet place there. Surely she could.
Except.
Damn those exceptions. Except, she wasn’t entirely certain where in the hell she was, Cherrydale? No, Berlion was in… Newborough, no Gullsborough Casino… no, that was Vadasz.
God she was hungry. So… so very.
FOOD!
