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Duvaineth had a favourite street corner. It had a slight indentation, where she could sit or lean, her lack of height allowing her to stand comfortably under the little shelter as well. It was just a small brick alcove, but she had stayed there, clueless, the last few nights.

Vampire. That was a word she knew, and a word that stuck to her. She knew that was what she had become, but she had not come to terms with it. This transformation was so.. New. It felt overwhelming to her. Things felt different, but she had no one to show her a way to deal with it. Often she became distracted by trivial things, such as the feeling of the ground or the brick she leant against. People ignored her, and that was how she liked it.

I can't go home. I can't see my mother. She thought, solemnly. She was a bit of a burn out - never really spoke to her own peers, or spent much time at home. But she had never missed as much as then. A homeless Vampire - not a fearless one. That's what she was. She was dirty, with knotted ginger-red hair, scruffy clothes and dirty hands. Her face was pretty, and unusual. A nose with a slight crook, strong cheek bones, large, soft lips and grey-blue eyes. Freckles scattered like stars.

Half-healed cuts littered her lip, where she had accidentally bitten too hard with her sharpened teeth.

Her paleness looked deathly, ironically. She was even a little blue. Holes had already worn into her clothes because of her being insistent on climbing and running carelessly, bewitched by her new speed. She was surprised that she wasn't in trouble yet, with someone. Anyone.

Duvaineth watched the dead street through tired, unfocused eyes. I don't need home. I have a street corner. That can be enough, I suppose.

Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the stranger, and she watched him intently as he backtracked to her. As his hands dug in his pockets she turned her head away, refusing pity, snuggling further into her coat. From the corner of her eye, she saw him extend a hand with the money - she thought it useless;

She had clothes, admittedly they were messy and dirty by this point, but they had done well. She could not buy food - she did not understand what she hungered for. Shelter was unnecessary, she decided. Not worth accepting money from another, nor someone in such a position as he - he did not look exactly well put together himself. She almost scoffed at herself for thinking such a thing. She was no where near the comfort he had anyway.

He has nothing to gain from this. Duvaineth thought it best to continue her ignorance - but when he spoke, she looked at him with a start. It'd been days since someone had actually addressed her at all. Her pale eyes stared at him for a moment, before she shifted her position so that her body fully faced him. She swallowed, which served to hurt her dry, aching throat.

"That's a little rude, don't you think?" Her voice was small, and her accent thickly English. Her frail hands searched for something to do, awkwardly pulling at the tatters of her jackets lining. Her face tilted, and a street light sent it's rays to her, illuminating her pale face properly. Ghostly was the most fitting word for her, though she was never far from that as a breather.

"I do not need your pity, stranger." She shook her head at him, letting her red hair fall around her, framing her jagged edges. "Or your money. I'll do just fine."

She forced herself to breath out, then in, though the action was completely futile. She didn't not need the air, but she liked how it felt when it filled her unneeded lungs. She flinched back as the stranger dropped lower, and tried her best to not bare her teeth like an animal. Something about being so close to this man riled her up, and made her feel small.

"I don't know what you're talking about.." She hoped, prayed, that if she played dumb he would go. Of course she could see that he was like her - his chest was still, his movements precise and almost seeming practised. Like a man who has walked this world for a long time. Duvaineth was not sure if she should be scared, but she was. She did not feel strong, not like this stranger.

"You should go, really. I can't repay you for anything when I have nothing." Her voice becomes chilled, much her like skin. Her hands, with her worn-down nails, scratched nervously at the brick of the wall behind her. She was unarmed completely, but she knew she could run. Though she hadn't tried that in a day or too, since the hunger really set in.

Is he tormenting me? What could I have for him. He should keep his money for his own necessities. Her teenage mind reeled with outcomes to this situation - none she could think of were positive. Her first encounter with another of her kindred and she felt sick with fear. She shamed herself.

The way he spoke caused lips to pull back in a grimace. He reminded her of her father. Lecturing, but good natured. It made her heart soften a little bit towards him, but she did not want to appear that way. She stood up in the alcove, leaning against the wall, head tilted back a little.

"Suppose I take your charity," The word 'charity' seemed to burn her tongue. "Where do I go? Where can I... Feed?" Her voice sounded a little strained. She hadn't come to terms with it yet, though she was aware of her situation. She hated the thought of blood. She was never queasy, or fainted around it, but the taste disgusted her as a human. She struggled to bring herself to image enjoying the metallic substance. It had been a week, she thought, since this transformation. Perhaps less. The nights seemed to merge together to her.

She eyed the stranger carefully now. Still defensive, still ready to at least try to run. But more accepting of his presence.

A small smile appeared on her lips as she watched him fumble. It disappeared however, as she considered the options concerning her.. Nutrients. Both repelled her for now, making her pause. "Do you.. Do you prefer, the source?" She talks with steady pauses, considering each word carefully.

Words were important. They got you places, especially when you're less than apt when it comes to violence. She relied on them heavily, but right now, they stuck in her aching throat and each sentence demanded time.
Well, she certainly had a lot of time, at least.

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to.. Take someone, like that. But a bag.. Being able to see it.." She pulled a face, scrunching her nose as if smelling something bad. She had to consider; Would she like it, would it be as bad as she thinks? Would she get caught.. Would her Sire punish her. She had no clue which he would like her to chose, so this stranger had to do. She needed the guidance, though she hated to admit it to herself. She'd certainly never say it out loud.