Seduction was the aim of the game and emotion played no part.
In fact, if Eudokhia housed any emotion at all, it was buried way deep down under a mess of numbness and instinct; the instinct to survive, and to do so without being shot.
For months she’d prowled the slum areas of Harper Rock; she’d sought precious diamond teeth for her sire, but that mission had long since ceased. Proximity to said sire was at an all-time low, though Eudokhia was equipped with the knowledge she required to get by. After all was said and done she still was not sure how she felt about being shot and turned into this thing without being asked. Still, she was unsure whether she liked the new power or whether she loathed the trap she was now chained to. A city on the brink of collapse, an adrenaline rush just remaining upon its mostly-still streets.
When would the bombs fall?
If this city were in Russia, it would be decimated by now.
The distance from Freyja was self-chosen, independence rearing its stubborn head in Eudokhia’s heart and mind. It was the only clear emotion she showed to the world; strength and determination to keep going despite the odds.
She was certain that if someone were to crack open the exterior of the pandora’s box that was nestled in the depths of Eudokhia’s being, then they would be flooded with fear and rage and grief and curiosity, with unbridled passion and despair and loneliness. But Eudokhia would let no one close enough to try.
Tonight, she paraded innocence. Innocence was like nectar to the men in this world, who were the hungry bees wanting to spread their pollen. She sat alone at a bus stop an hour after the last bus had departed. Distress was far too easy to wear as a mask, her hands clasped between her knees as if she were cold. There was grief somewhere, deep down. She tugged on it, pulled it, lured it, wrangled it to the surface so that she could force the tears from her tear ducts, eyes rimmed red. She’d pushed her fingers through her hair, made the strands look loose and roughed up. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like she’d had a rough night, and she’d missed the last bus and now had no way home.
All she had to do was sit there and sniffle every few minutes.
Eventually, someone would come.
In fact, if Eudokhia housed any emotion at all, it was buried way deep down under a mess of numbness and instinct; the instinct to survive, and to do so without being shot.
For months she’d prowled the slum areas of Harper Rock; she’d sought precious diamond teeth for her sire, but that mission had long since ceased. Proximity to said sire was at an all-time low, though Eudokhia was equipped with the knowledge she required to get by. After all was said and done she still was not sure how she felt about being shot and turned into this thing without being asked. Still, she was unsure whether she liked the new power or whether she loathed the trap she was now chained to. A city on the brink of collapse, an adrenaline rush just remaining upon its mostly-still streets.
When would the bombs fall?
If this city were in Russia, it would be decimated by now.
The distance from Freyja was self-chosen, independence rearing its stubborn head in Eudokhia’s heart and mind. It was the only clear emotion she showed to the world; strength and determination to keep going despite the odds.
She was certain that if someone were to crack open the exterior of the pandora’s box that was nestled in the depths of Eudokhia’s being, then they would be flooded with fear and rage and grief and curiosity, with unbridled passion and despair and loneliness. But Eudokhia would let no one close enough to try.
Tonight, she paraded innocence. Innocence was like nectar to the men in this world, who were the hungry bees wanting to spread their pollen. She sat alone at a bus stop an hour after the last bus had departed. Distress was far too easy to wear as a mask, her hands clasped between her knees as if she were cold. There was grief somewhere, deep down. She tugged on it, pulled it, lured it, wrangled it to the surface so that she could force the tears from her tear ducts, eyes rimmed red. She’d pushed her fingers through her hair, made the strands look loose and roughed up. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like she’d had a rough night, and she’d missed the last bus and now had no way home.
All she had to do was sit there and sniffle every few minutes.
Eventually, someone would come.
