oxblood

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"Erin? What are those stains?" It didn't smell like blood but it sure looked like it. Ethel was intimately familiar with the color: dark, dark red, biting deep into the fibers of every fabric it came in contact with. It was all over Erin's hands and worn out jeans. "Oxblood", Erin smiled apologetically. "I tipped the bottle and all of the ink just- you know." Ink. Ethel traced her teeth with the tip of her tongue. [[The fangs didn't grow]] but there was that pressure in her gums, the pulse in her palate. A warning. [align center] *(Sight provokes thoughts, thoughts provoke actions. Of course, you know better than to act on those thoughts, don't you?)* [align right] [[*(Oh, of course.)*]]

"Oh, right", Erin's eyes shot wide open. They were dead leaf brown. [[Beautiful.]] "I must look-" [align right] [[*(Irresistible.)*]] [align center] *(Don't you dare. [[It's not your time yet.]])* [align left] "-like a murderer or something, or... it looks bad. I'll go wash it all off." Without hesitation, Erin walked to Ethel and smeared the ink on her skin — on the line of her jaw, on her neck, down to the collarbone, stopping only at the neckline of her old t-shirt, looking straight into her eyes with a grin that usually meant only one thing. "And I think you should join. I mean, look at yourself." [align right] [[*(She doesn't know I can look worse.)*]]

[align center] Vampires don't have their fangs out all the time. If we did, it'd be far too easy to get rid of us: you just open people's mouths and keep killing until you can see no more pointed teeth. It's been done before and it's not very effective. The fangs grow when they're needed. Sometimes it's because you smell blood. Sometimes it's because you're just thinking about it, or you got reminded of it, and sometimes, you're just hungry. In extreme cases, usually when you repress your needs harder than you should, you might get a free piercing, so, don't fight with yourself more than you need to. {back link}

[[Showers]] were always uncomfortable for Ethel. The feeling of overall wetness, her [[(...)]] hair clinging to her body, the vulnerability that came with nakedness, all of it combined was unpleasant enough to put her on the edge. Now add another body nearby. Warm. Soft. Exposed. Wonderfully alive. Ethel tried to not think too much about it but the sharp tips of her fangs were pressing against her lower lip and she couldn't help but let her eyes wander. There were veins underneath that smooth skin and she knew exactly where you can and cannot [[bite]]. The forbidden zones — the neck, the thighs — were unfortunately the most acceptable options in this situation. [align center] [[*(Distract yourself. You're not hungry. You know you're not.)*]]

[align center] You might start appreciating things which are dying and decaying a little more after you turn. This feels paradoxical, considering that the fear of your own death usually amplifies at the very same point, but the line between fear and attraction is quite thin. A lot of us fall in love with autumn and winter, especially with their ugly neutral tones: grayish melting snow, thick black mud, decaying leaves. They make red all the prettier. {back link}

[align center] You only need to feed once every month or two, depending on how fast your blood cleanses. Animals are a safe bet most of the time, they just taste like nothing. It's survival food. Find a forest and get your fill. Don't feel guilty, humans do it all the time. And speaking of humans, well... you need about four if you want to do this ethically and without anyone dying. That's preferable, especially if you find true believers who'll let you bite for some vague promise of glamorous eternal life. If you don't care about it, just one is enough. {back link}

[align center] Differentiating between hunger and other desires isn't as hard as people think. It can be difficult because everything you feel will be amplified, but there are clues you can follow to determine that. Remember when you last fed and when was your last blood cleanse. Check your fangs. Ask yourself, or yourselves, and you usually should get the right answer. Things are truly irresistible if you're desperately hungry. Otherwise, that's just an excuse. Some people love to say "I lost my mind" or "I just had to do it", or "it's in my nature", or "it wasn't me", thinking it'll get them free. No. It was all your choice. It always is. {back link}

[align center] No, showers doesn't count as "running water". Neither does tap water, or the water someone pours out of the kettle or one of those fancy water filter pitchers. The movement needs to be dictated by nature. Even if it counted, you're not *crossing* it in this situation, it just kind of falls on you. For the love of everything that still matters to you, *shower*. It won't kill you, we promise. Speaking of which, you're also fine to go out in the sunlight, unless you were sensitive to it back in your life, of course. {back link}

[align center] It's true that we can't see ourselves in the mirror. It's a lie that we don't have reflections. You'll keep forgetting what you looked like. It's normal. You'll keep forgetting what the person looking back at you in the mirror looks like. This is also normal. You'll look at the body you're in and forget its details once you look away. Again, normal. Nothing will match. You have no face now. This is something you need to make peace with. If you don't, you'll drive yourself to terrible things. {back link}

[align right] *(I could have just a little taste. She said she likes it before.)* [align center] *(You're getting greedy again.)* [align right] *(Who are you to tell me what to do?)* [align center] *(We're what kept you out of danger for so long. [[Don't you remember what you were before us?]])*

Winters were colder and harsher back then but [[Etheldred]] didn't care. Euphoria which comes with every feeding kept her blood hot, her body agile, and her vision sharp. She ran between the prickly evergreen trees and effortlessly passed through the tall snowdrifts. [[She needed to know where the road ended]] and she was going to run for as long as she had to to find the answer.

[align center] Some keep their birth name forever, some change it as soon as they turn, some forget it, some die and become someone else. You can have as many names as you want and they can be whatever you want. They only have a meaning if you assign them one. In the long run, it's best to switch it up once in a while, just for safety reasons. {back link}

She focused on the sound. Hooves hitting the ground, frantic gallop, muffled and dull, like a panicked heartbeat filtered through the layers of flesh and bone. Then, she saw it — the poor horse trying as hard as it can to bring the two people on its back home in time. All of the snow it kicked up sparkled in the faint moonlight. "Dad", the boy whined. "There's something- something in the woods-" "It's the snow and the trees", the man replied. "They trick you." "No, I'm sure- [[it's that girl]]-"

They met back at that gathering a couple of hours ago, and since they were roughly the same [[age]], it was easier to form a bond. Etheldred managed to lure him away from everyone else, out of the dining hall, but he didn't want to go any further than that, almost as if he knew what was about to happen. She made him promises she never planned to deliver on, all to get him out of the building, out of the range of everyone's eyes and ears. [align right] *(Golden robes. Beautiful gardens. Meeting my non-existent sisters. I was checking what ticked. Nothing did. He kept saying he needs to go back to his dad.)* [[*(Had to drag him out.)*]]

[align center] Your body doesn't get frozen just as it was when you turned. It just happens that people get turned at their most... optimal. As time passes, the body will ease into the condition that's most suitable for you, then it'll stay there. We've seen teenage vampires growing old, old people turning back into young adults, children who'll never grow up. How? How would we know? {back link}

[align right] [[*(I wasn't even hungry that night.)*]]

[align right] [[*(Does it matter if I was or wasn't?)*]]

[align right] *(I wanted to bite. That's what vampires do. We bite and we drink blood. We're predators, we've always been. I don't understand why you want me to be "good"; [[it doesn't change what I am]].)*

[align left] The father tried his best. He kept his son, who was wildly flailing, as close as he could. The screams, oh, how the boy screamed into the quiet night, feverish, trying to keep the hallucinated assailant away from himself. It was, of course, too late for that. All was just a memory that played over and over again in his head, nothing else. Etheldred smiled to herself when he fell silent. [align right] *(Death always smells so [[sweet]].)* [align left] Still, she ran. She had to find out where the road ends. [align right] *([[Also, they don't feel like fighting when they're grieving]].)*

[align center] We hate to use the word "victim", but alas, there isn't a better one. As you bite, you release a bit of venom into your victim's bloodstream. It causes their body to relax, acts as a painkiller, and alters their perception just enough so they can't tell if it really happened or if it all was just a dream. The initial puncture wound should fix itself within a couple of hours. In a couple of days, the victim might forget you were even there. As with every substance, there are risks and side effects. The dose might be too much and it might not be enough. There's been cases where someone was allergic and died. If you care about ethical feeding (and you should!), you should always stay a little while after to make sure the victim's alright, and if they're not, get them to safety. {back link}

[align center] You'll be able to smell someone being close to death. You'll know what it is instantly because nothing can match that sweetness. Don't make any mistakes, though: we're sensitive to this because it's a warning. It's meant to be *don't drink more or you'll kill them* but it doesn't differentiate between someone you're drinking from and someone who just happens to be near death near you. Don't overthink it when the smell reaches you. Never tell humans their time is coming, no matter how tempting it is. They don't like to hear that. {back link}

[align right] [[*(Red.)*]]

[align right] [[*(Warm.)*]]

[align right] *(Water washing it all away.)* *(Rain?)* *(It wasn't raining then. Tears?)* *(No, too many. It's...)* [[*(...the shower. Right.)*]]

[align right] *(I don't understand. It should feel good. It should taste amazing. Why doesn't it...?)* [align center] *[[(You never listen, do you?)]]*

[align center] There's no special benefit to biting people you love. In fact, it sucks (pun perhaps intended) because they taste like nothing. If you're hungry, sure, it can be nice, especially if they know what you are and want to help you out (not all of us are V4V!), but it won't be enjoyable. We're still trying to find out why things are this way. It could be psychological because of the guilt... or, perhaps, they're already giving enough taste to your unlife and you can't squeeze out anything [[more]].

[align right] *(She said it's just ink.)* [align center] *(You know it's not.)* [align left] Ethel knew better. It was *(ink)*, it had to be. That's why it tasted like nothing. The hot water made Erin dizzy and that's why her gaze was so absent, why her body was so limp. She wasn't feeling well, that's all, and she just needed all that *(ink)* scrubed off of her. Who could do it better than her girlfriend? *(Ink)* mixed with water flowed down the drain. The redness on the fingers: gone, Splatters on the thighs: gone. The stains on the neck: The stains on the neck: The stains on the neck: [[How stubborn.]]

*** The *(ink)* was still crusted in Ethel's nostrils and the corners of her lips. She sighed deeply as she looked in the mirror and saw the corpse of a stranger staring back with its red eyes. It's like it cried. [[Cleansing]] was never a good time but it was far worse after you lost your girlfriend. Erin [[survived]] but the relationship didn't. There was no convincing explanation for all of the unnecessarily deep bites all over her body, or at least, Ethel couldn't come up with one. When someone hurts you like this, it's always safer to leave as soon as possible. Who knows what might happen next? [align right] *([[Nothing good]], that's for sure.)*

[align center] Right. We keep talking about cleansing and we never said what it is! A regular human body does many things to keep blood inside of it fresh. You don't get that privilege and the old blood needs to go *somewhere*. That's where cleansing comes in. Every month or two, you'll have one special day on which you'll be throwing up and having nosebleeds of proportions that'd probably be concerning if you weren't undead. You'll be miserable. You'll look horrible. You'll be hungry by the time it's done. You'll also learn how to predict it coming... but you'll just have to anticipate it at every moment in your first years. No high ever comes without a low. {back link}

As soon as Ethel washed her face clean, she stumbled out of the bathroom, half-conscious, then threw herself onto the old couch. She swished some mouthwash but the lingering taste of stale *(ink)* just mingled with the muted alcoholic mint, creating a combination which was only slightly more bearable. [align right] *(I should [[sink the boat]].)* [align center] *(Over a girl?)* [align right] *(Yes.)* [align center] *(What are you, 16?)* [align right] [[*(Why do I have to be stuck with you, anyway?)*]] [align center] [[*(Well, we're sorry that we care.)*]]

[align center] Unless complications kick in or you really bleed someone dry, bite-induced deaths are actually fairly rare. It doesn't mean you're harmless, obviously, but you don't have to do the entire song and dance with "I'm going to kill someone! I'm a monster!". You're just as capable of causing harm as you were before you turned, you just have more tools to cause this harm with at your disposal at all times. {back link}

[align center] You know how we can't cross the (naturally) running water? That makes things like rivers dangerous for us because... well, we can't move in them! So all that's left for us in this situation is giving up and dying from hunger underwater. Terrible! There's that tale about a vampire who found themself on a sinking boat. They knew what that meant but instead of giving up or panicking, they decided to feed on as many people as they could to stave off death for as long as possible. It was a sinking boat, after all, so if everything there was going down, there was no point in being moderate or stealthy anymore. Is this a real thing that happened? We don't know! But from this story came the term "to sink a boat" — to give up on everything and follow your most basic impulses, since there's nothing left to lose. {back link}

[align center] There's one thing they never tell you about being a vampire: you're never alone, even in an empty room. How it manifests? That's different for everyone. It can be a shadow in the corner of your eye that always disappears whenever you want to look at it straight. The overwhelming feeling of guilt over what you had to do to survive, so strong you can almost touch it. Past lives you've had, so distant from you that they might as well be different people altogether. A tiny voice — or more than just one! — at the back of your head which always knows what to do. Why it manifests? We're not sure but we think it's a defense mechanism. Being lonely for entire eternity would really mess someone up and so many of us walk our lifepaths alone. Just remember none of this is here to hurt you and you'll be golden. {back link}

The cracked screen of an old phone lit up. Ethel picked up the device from the dusty floor, hoping for the notification to be a message or an incoming call. Of course, she thought she didn't deserve forgiveness from Erin but it was the only thing she wanted in that moment. It would feel so good to have all of her sins absolved; she didn't mean to hurt anyone, after all, and biting is just her nature, so how could it be held against her? The notification was from the weather app, though nothing it said had any meaning; the cleansing made Ethel feel cold no matter what. The widget was there to fill the space on a rather empty screen, right above the browser and unused [[social media]] which came bundled with the phone for some reason. Things these days — distant countries, music, other people — were just a tap away. [[That was true for Erin as well.]]

[align center] You can have it if you want but trust me, keeping anything aesthetic when all you can see in the pictures is a stranger can give you a hell of a crisis sometimes. Also, don't keep the same handles across the years, it's just basic safety for us. Best if you periodically delete every account you have and make new ones. Uh, it's best to just *not have any*... but we need to be realistic here. You want to be a part of the world sometimes, you want to feel normal, and it's completely fine. {back link}

[align center] *(Ethel. Don't.)* [align left] She didn't listen. As old *(ink)* ran down her face, she typed Erin's full name into the searchbar of one of the apps, then waited for the subpar internet to process thousands of pictures accumulated over the years. Ethel's face, naturally, wasn't in any of them, but there still was evidence that she once used to be a part of that world. She was a shadow looming over a cup of tea, a sickly pale arm around Erin's shoulders, a model for a painting which was, as the description said, never going to be finished because it felt "cursed". She was also the reason why in all of the new pictures Erin had [[her neck]] covered by something. Scarves, popped collars, turtlenecks, absurdly big chokers, all things she never wore before. And then, there was [[the other girl]].

[align center] Remember when we talked about biting? We said that the venom should fix the puncture wound after you bite someone and it shouldn't leave a trace. This doesn't mean you can't seriously hurt people if you choose to bite them without feeding on them, or if you choose to chomp down on someone just for fun. There's no reason for you to ever be this aggressive with someone, unless you absolutely have to kill them, that is, and most of the time, you really don't want to do this by biting like a common dog... that's such a waste of food! Suck them dry like a normal person if you really have to. Oh, you knew all of that- oh. Sorry, we didn't know. {back link}

She was there, showing her face without any fear, smiling with confidence which made Ethel hate her at the first sight. *Rebecca*, said a part of her handle, but Erin called her *Becky* in the caption. It was easy to get to her profile from here. [align center] *(You shouldn't do this.)* [align left] The pictures made it clear that Becky was all Ethel couldn't be. There was a healthy glow to her skin and something bright in her eyes, that tiny glimmer you could only see in people who still believed the world could be a wonderful place. In another post, she posed with her family and everyone had their arms wrapped around someone else, and none of the faces showed any sign of hidden pain or hatred. Seeing someone so [[alive and loved]]...

The worst photo was just uploaded last Friday. Becky was grinning at the mirror in Erin's apartment, so smug, so triumphant, furiously blushed, and she was wearing that stupid old t-shirt, the same Ethel wore back on that terrible day. The washed out print of the vintage car on it didn't seem silly when it was on Becky's chest and the ink stain on its neckline, the one Erin put there, faded to pale pink already. [[It looked better on her]].

Ethel felt the tips of her fangs pressing against her lower lip again. [align center] *(No. No, stop.)* [align left] There was nothing she wanted more than to jump through that screen and bite, and bite, and bite, until *(ink)* filled her mouth and covered the whole stupid t-shirt red, until all that pretty color drained from Becky's face, until that light disappeared from her eyes, until that smirk faded and turned into a grimace. And if someone you love tastes like nothing, then the taste of someone you hate must be the best thing in the entire world. It'd be so easy to find her, to- [align center] [[*(ETHEL!)*]]

A drop of stale *(ink)* hit the screen, covering Becky's face. [align right] *(What?)* [align center] *(Weren't you just planning a murder?)* [align right] *(I'm hungry.)* [align center] *(And jealous. That goes beyond hunger.)* [align right] *(No shit, of course I'm jealous. Erin's safe now and she couldn't be safe with me because I'm inherently fucked up. Becky's not.)* [align center] *(The only difference between you two is that your teeth are sharper. Your mistake wasn't biting, it was [[biting for no reason]] and without thinking.)*

[align center] *(You're misplacing your anger. Let's say you're right, let's say you're acting this way just because of who you turned into — isn't that woman just the same, living her life as any other human would? She's not alive to spite you.)* [align left] Ethel wiped the screen with the back of her hand. Becky still stared back, though she didn't seem that smug anymore. That grin on her face was just an awkward smile and there was some genuine softness in her eyes that made the furious blush on her face look quite... adorable. [align right] *(She's pretty in human standards, isn't she?)* [align center] *("Pretty" isn't the word we'd apply. "Hot" might fit better.")* [align left] The screen went black as Ethel locked the phone. [align right] *(I still want to kill her- or at least bite her just to know how she tastes, but- [[I can't do this to Erin]], right?)*

[align center] *(If that's what keeps you away from murder, sure.)* [align left] Anger slowly faded away, leaving Ethel only with the terrible taste of stale *(ink)* in her mouth and something bittersweet brewing in her mind. [align right] *(I think we should leave.)* [align left] If she saw them now, she wouldn't be able to control herself, she was sure of that, and being hungry made things even worse. The longer she stayed in this town, the more dangerous she'd be. [align center] *(When?)* [align right] [[*(Tonight.)*]]

*** The midnight train was always quiet. People were too busy falling asleep or already sleeping, if there were even any people at all. Only the noise of the machine itself — a steady buzz of the bright lights overhead, a predictable rhythm of the wheels rolling on the rails — and barely audible footsteps could be heard. A man was walking through the carriages and looking into every compartment. All of them were, understandably, empty, [[save for one]].

The man had to do a double take. The person sitting inside held a bottle to her nose and through the clear plastic, he could see a thick liquid, dark brown, like- No, it couldn't be. He opened the heavy sliding door leading into the compartment. It made a high-pitched noise, startling the stranger. She didn't say anything or put the bottle away, though; she simply stared as the man took a seat opposite of her, then looked her up and down. He saw what everyone else would: nothing more than an animated corpse seconds away from collapsing in on itself. Somehow, [[it didn't bother him]].

[align right] *(Free meal?)* [align center] *(If he's a creep, sure.)* [align left] "You need a tissue?", the man asked, searching for something in the pockets of his worn out bomber jacket. "I have tissues." He had that gravelly voice of a seasoned smoker but he didn't smell like cigarettes at all. [[Adele]] took a closer look at him. There was something about him... muddy brown messy hair, an uncannily gaunt face, desaturated skintone which made him look grayer than any human should be. Still, there was that light in his eyes. He couldn't have been... "No, thanks." "Suit yourself", he shrugged. "You're heading anywhere special?" [align right] *(I'm going to fucking bite him.)* [align center] *(Not yet. Patience.)* [align left] "I'm going... somewhere." "Somewhere. Anywhere?" "Anywhere." A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. [["Then we're going the same way!"]]

"You know", he whispered, "I know some places where you can... get a good bite. You must be really hungry." [align center] *(Does he mean-)* [align right] *(No, look at his eyes. There's that light in them. None of us has it.)* [align left] As if he heard her thoughts, the man grinned, showing his [[fangs]], long, thin, and definitely inhuman.

[align center] From one unlife to another, from a name to a name, a person to a person. Eternal palimpsest, erased and rewritten over hundreds of years. A faint hope for leaving the past behind. You might cycle between a couple of safe, similar names, even if you want to escape. You might cling to the self you wanted to kill in ways which aren't immediately obvious. You can't outrun yourself. {back link}

Adele didn't remember when was the last time she met another. There was someone just on the fuzzy edge of her memory but the details seemed out of reach. They were left behind in a different life; in this one, this was the first vampire she ever met. "Name's Vigil... this time", he chuckled. "I was serious about biting, by the way. The city at the end of the line, it's great for that, I keep coming back. There's a nice [[safehouse]] there, too- sorry for assuming, but you're travelling light while cleansing, I guess you need somewhere to escape to." [align center] *(You still need to exercise caution.)* [align left] But why wouldn't you trust someone who *gets it*? It's so rare that Adele almost forgot it was possible for another person to understand the struggle. [["Show me the way, then."]]

[align center] Not all of us have a stable housing situation. That's fine. Some of the kindest among us establish safehouses in bigger cities where you can live until you get your situation sorted out. It's usually an abandoned building, preferably one nobody's trying to fight over. Check local urban legends for places which are "haunted" or "cursed" — that's the spot. If a human somehow walks in, well, you can bite and get them out, and they probably won't remember. What? Aren't we scared of the cops being called? Don't make us laugh. You think cops can do anything at all? Anyway. Remember, safehouses are nicer on the inside and nobody's judging you for using them. You do what you do to survive. {back link}

*** The room smelled like cigarettes and a horrible mix of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume used to cover the former. Smoke lingered in the air, completely covering everything in sight from the bar to the tables; only a lone singer and their band on the stage could be seen clearly, illuminated by the spotlights. Adele tried to not pay attention to the song itself. It sounded like a theme for a broken heart, slow and unbearably whiny. "That's The Smokeroom", Vigil said into her ear. "They're on the edge of being legal so whatever happens here, stays here. And there's always some weirdo that's into being bitten, so, all consensual. Though maybe we'd have better luck at- right, sorry, I talk too much. You're hungry. [[Go ahead]]."

Adele wouldn't remember much of the feeding process itself. There was a hole in her memory where it was meant to be, as if she blacked out, then she suddenly found herself inside the safehouse, which was clearly a weirdly well-preserved former office. All she could recall was the *(ink)*, which wasn't very helpful since she could still taste it in her mouth. "Haven't seen someone so hungry in a while." "Been a while since I had *(ink)*." Vigil raised his eyebrows and leaned against the dirty off-white wall. "You don't have to say 'ink'. Just say *(ink)*, it's fine between us." "That's what I said", Adele sat down on the peeling faux leather couch. "[[*(Ink)*]]." "No, you-", Vigil shook his head. Was it pity in his eyes? "Nevermind. Rest well. [[I'm taking you on a tour tomorrow]]."

[align right] It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* It was *(ink)* {back link}

Every night since that one, Vigil and Adele went out to learn more and more about the city. It had thousands of names accumulated throughout the centuries and even more nicknames for each of its individual parts. The sky never went truly dark over the skyscrapers; instead of stars, there were faint glimmers of distant satelites and planes. During the day, people flooded the streets, and during the night, they moved to the Journeyman Boulevard. [[That's where all the fun was]].

They snuck into the obscure bars and secret raves, blended in with the swarms of warm bodies waiting for concerts underneath bright streetlights, danced in underground clubs where the flickering lights made them look somewhat alive. Time passed as it always did, days, weeks, months- was it years yet? It was hard to tell. It never really matters when you have a whole eternity in front of you. Ethel was firmly dead and Adele danced on her grave until she forgot someone was ever buried there. Bad days still existed everything is easier when you have company. A burden shared is a burden halved, after all, and it was always better to throw up stale *(ink)* with someone [[holding your hair]].

It was yet another night. Adele and Vigil played games with each other, racing through the streets and finding out how long they can stay undetected while hiding in the shadows between the boulevard's lights, all to get a thrill before they headed back to the safehouse, which was practically their home at that point in time. It was wonderful to lose yourself in the moment, focus on the post-feeding warmth, kiss the fresh *(ink)* off of each other's lips. "How come you look so alive? I mean, you have that light in your eyes." The question was always on Adele's mind but she never thought to ask it, and yet, it just flew out of her mouth, even though she didn't want to say it out loud. Vigil didn't notice that brief moment of distress. He scratched his chin and looked up at the eternally bright sky. "I guess I never lost it. Maybe it was because when I [[turned]]..." His voice turned smooth and slightly high-pitched at the last syllable. Even though Adele could tell he's recalling something painful, her [[curiosity was always stronger than her empathy]] and the voices which kept her from making mistakes haven't spoken to her in a long while.

[align center] Oh, no, you can't turn someone by biting them... though it's not out of question, either, especially since it seems like you- it's complicated, you might want to sit down for this. You know this from experience but you also need theory in this case. There are people who are... predisposed. They've got that sense of perpetual unfulfillment. They float by. They don't remember much. Essentially, their lives seem to be nothing and they feel themselves as being nothing. They're a time bomb but they don't know it yet. One day, something will happen to them — something that will make them *feel* for the first time. It's always either profoundly beautiful or profoundly destructive. The outcome is always the same: the thirst for life. How we turned? You should never ask that. It could be the worst moment for them. If it was the best, they'll probably tell you. It was 1832, by the way, at a concert of a particularly talented pianist-composer. Brought a tear to our eye. {back link}

"I was looking at the sky. It was in a place just like this one", Vigil's voice shook. "Cities were smaller back then but there still were plenty of alleyways to die in... and plenty more stars in the sky. I thought: *That's so beautiful*, you know, the stars. The lights. If there could be something so wonderful out there, then I could believe there's a point in it all." He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. Blunt teeth. There was no need for fangs now. "I woke up the next morning, didn't even know I turned for a while. Thought I was given a second chance- I kinda was. Either way, I never stopped believing I'm here for a reason. I need to see the lights, all of them, everywhere." "So, that's it?", Adele raised her eyebrows. "You just don't stop believing that there's some sort of a purpose in this... unlife?" "Exactly." "Cool. Can we go back home?" Her tone was sharper than she intended it to be. Something scratched at the back of her mind, trying to claw its way out of oblivion, and she didn't want to let it out. It was dead. It was meant to stay dead. "Sure", Vigil said, taking Adele's hand. [[It didn't feel like he touched it at all]].

*** Adele sat in the empty safehouse, peeling loose flakes of faux leather off the couch. Vigil was somewhere out in the city. He said he was going to The Apprentice, which was a great spot for feeding because it was full of goth kids who have absolutely no issue with being bitten, and she didn't feel like she could follow. Something changed when Adele found out they weren't the same after all. She could no longer look into Vigil's eyes because the light in them reminded her of what she didn't have and the jealousy told her to tear him apart. Whenever she thought that, a memory kept pressing on the barrier between this life and the previous one, the one she forgot for a reason, and she couldn't risk a breach happening. [[There was a sound downstairs.]] Vigil swearing in some language Adele didn't recognize. Someone whining. Clearly, bad news.

"Adele!", Vigil yelled. "Come help me!" A louder whine followed. It sounded familiar. Too familiar. [align right] *(No, not familiar at all.)* [align left] Adele ran downstairs, feeling how her body stiffens against her will, as if bracing for some sort of impact. Vigil was right at the bottom of the staircase, holding a woman in his arms. She could barely stand on her own; a thin trail of *(ink)* slithered down her hand from the puncture wound in her wrist. "Vigil, what the fuck?!" "I couldn't leave her! She had a reaction to the bite, I- you can't leave someone like that!" "Get her to a damn hospital then!" "She's [[sharp and bitter]], you know they wouldn't do shit." As much as Adele hated to admit it, Vigil was right. "Fine. But [[you take care of her]].

[align center] Bad vampire news, or maybe good vampire news, depending on how you were back in your life: you can't get drunk or high anymore, not counting the post-feeding euphoria. No, not even when someone has alcohol or drugs in their system. No, we don't know why. That's just something you have to get used to. You can still taste those things while feeding. Drugs make people taste bitter, alcohol makes them taste... sharp. You'll know what we mean. So, when someone tells you "that person's bitter" or "that person's sharp", they probably don't mean their character traits. {back link}

There was that boy centuries ago. He whined just like that, didn't he? Back there, on that road by the woods. [align right] *(There was never any boy. I never heard this before. That wasn't me.)* [align left] But her fangs already pricked her and a familiar taste filled her mouth, watered down, yet still clear. [align right] *(It's not because of that. I just saw [ink] and- [[who am I arguing with]]?)*

It's not easy to drag someone who's writhing and flailing around but Adele and Vigil managed to do it. The woman stopped protesting as soon as they reached the top of the staircase. She looked already dead, pale and blankly staring forward, but she didn't smell like incoming death at all. "You're sure she's reacting and not just bitter?" "She was fine before I bit her." "Nice", the woman grinned. There were black lipstick stains on her blunt teeth. "Bit-ter, bit her..." "She's well enough to joke", Adele turned around. "I'm sure one person can handle her from now." Without waiting for anyone's reply, she went back to her part of the safehouse. [[It wasn't her problem, after all]].

*** "So, how was the night? Good?", Adele asked. She couldn't hide a smile when Vigil gave her a death stare. "Like watching the paint dry, except the paint might explode at any given moment. She spent the whole night staring at the door and talking about not letting anyone in because they're going to trample the flowers or some shit until she got tired and fell asleep, thankfully." He fell silent and looked at something in the corner, then sighed. "You've been quite... cold lately. It's like you don't even want to be near me anymore. And all that callousness yesterday- [[What happened?]]"

His voice was so soft that for a brief moment, Adele could find comfort in it again. It was obvious that he cared about the answer and wanted to find a solution, and maybe if she told him how it feels to deal with this crushing lack of purpose, they could somehow make things work. But she wasn't that type of a person. "Or maybe it's you who's being too clingy", she replied. "Have you ever considered I don't always want your opinion on everything or that I don't want to share a feeding spot? Have you ever thought there's a reason why I never lived with another? *You're cold*, no shit, you'd be too if you were me." Vigil crossed his arms and gave her a bitter smile. "Great news for you, then. I'm leaving tomorrow." [align right] *(No. No, I can't be alone again.)* [align left] "Great. Have fun wherever you're going, I'll be-" Adele stopped. [[There were footsteps outside the room.]]

The woman from yesterday was pacing around in the corridor. She seemed remarkably calm for someone who just woke up in an abandoned building all by herself, presumably not remembering what she did before she got there. Now with the sunlight pouring in, it was easier to see more details in her appearance: the unevenness of her heavy makeup, the strange mess that was her pitch black hair, the torn hem and sleeves of her red tartan dress which she had underneath a distressed dark leather harness. Not an unusual look for someone taken from The Apprentice, and yet, there was something off about her. "Oh, hi", she smiled. "Cool, uh, place you got here. Did you bring me here? I can't remember." "You weren't feeling well", Vigil spoke before Adele could say anything. "I couldn't leave you like this." "And they say chivalry is dead. Thanks. I guess I'll get going now?" No questioning, no panic, nothing. She took it like she was just told about the weather outside. "We're in a pretty bad area. It's best if you don't go alone", Vigil stepped towards her but she waved dismissively at him. "Thanks. I'll manage." Before she turned towards the staircase, she touched her wrist. The puncture wound wasn't there anymore, and yet, she frowned, as if confused about something. [[Adele was sure it meant nothing good]].

Vigil left like he said he would. He promised to be back but he didn't specify when and his tone showed he'd rather not do that in the nearest time. The whole city was Adele's, then: the dimming streetlights, the swarms of people on the Journeyman's Boulevard, the goth kids of The Apprentice, the smothering atmosphere of The Smokeroom. She kept time by tracking the cleansings for a while, then stopped when she realized it's all rather useless. [align center] *(So, ready to admit you fucked up?)* [align left] Adele looked around The Smokeroom. Everything was as hazy as always. The band was playing another breakup anthem for some reason but this time, it meant nothing. [align right] *(It's your fault. You left me when I needed you.)* [align center] *(We left you because we thought we weren't needed. You can't blame us for what we didn't do.)* [align right] *(Cool. Now shut up.)* [align left] She headed straight to the bathrooms. [[There was always someone there.]]

Everything inside was piss yellow: the walls, the sinks, the stalls. Weirdly enough, it was all empty. Adele looked away from the dirty mirrors and focused on the grafitti scrawled between them. *I love my girlfriend (we're both gay)* was followed by *Jeremiah 17:9*, underneath which was *someone's bitter* and *she deceits on my heart 'till I understand it*. She flinched when the door opened with an unbearable squeak. "Oh shit." The voice was familiar; Adele turned to hide in the nearest stall but the woman already blocked her path. She still wore her torn red tartan dress, just without the harness, and her hair and makeup were neater now, but the dead eyes stayed the same. "I was looking for you", she whispered. "Listen, I- [[I know what you are.]]"

"Great. You got me all figured out", Adele said flatly. "Are you done playing a YA protagonist?" "You won't even try to deny it?" "No. Nobody's gonna believe you anyway." "True", the woman nodded. Adele wondered if her eyes were so big naturally or if she was bitter again. "So, what I wanted to say- okay, first, my name's Alice, just to get that out of the way. To get to the business: I don't know what that guy did to me when he bit me but it felt *unreal*. I need to feel it again." "You want me to bite you." "If possible", Alice smiled. It looked so innocent. "I mean, you need to drink *(ink)*, right? So, I could... you could... have me sometimes and [[we could both get what we need]]."

[align center] *(It's a terrible idea. She's reacting to the venom, it's-)* [align right] *(She didn't die.)* [align center] *(What if she does?)* [align right] *(Then it's her fault.)* [align center] *(Remember what you were like when you thought you killed Erin?)* [align right] *(I don't know any Erin. Remember when you were quiet? Try that again.)* [align center] *(...if you have to, at least try to [[do it in a safer place]].)*

There was a big empty house right at the edge of the city. Vigil often wondered who lived there, if there was anyone living in it at all; Adele was the one to learn the answer. *Dad pays for it*, Alice explained while she fiddled with the keys, *I don't know why. I don't think I care enough to ask him.* Adele couldn't give a damn about his reasons either. What mattered was that Alice was pale enough to have all of her veins show nicely in all of the strategic points. She was bitter but somehow, it was a good kind of bitterness — something Adele never really tasted before, so she kept drinking until she could smell the faint sweetness of incoming death in the air. [[It almost made her feel alive.]]

*** Whether it was on The Apprentice's dancefloor or under the scene in The Smokeroom, they kept finding each other, and every time they did, they ended up back at Alice's house in one of the horrifyingly empty rooms. It didn't matter if Adele had to feed or not anymore. They blacked out in the night and came to in the morning, bitten, bruised, and aching, feeling alive like never before. Alice was comfortable in the role of a human chew toy. It was as if she found her purpose in this, as if having the threat of being torn apart by sharp teeth made her feel needed like nothing else could. She didn't even taste bitter all the time anymore, exchaging one high for another. Adele never told her it was a side effect of the venom, not a main feature. [[It's not like it mattered, anyway.]]

"Absolutely catastrophic reading", Alice laughed, pulling the Tower card out of a tarot deck. "Seven of swords, seven of wands, reversed Magician..." "You believe in this stuff?", Adele asked. Her focus kept shifting from the illustration of a burning tower and Alice's neck. Sitting on the bed and having a conversation wasn't particularly interesting to her but she endured the whole talking thing just for the sake of being able to bite without hunting. "I mean... I guess it brings me some comfort to know what might happen." "You said this reading is catastrophic. How's that comforting? Wouldn't it be better to just not waste time on this?" "I can prepare for whatever might be coming", Alice put the deck down and picked up a small polished stone, dark and smooth, save for thin red grooves running all across it like veins. "That's also why I got a hematite", she grinned. "Right. For excessive *(ink)*loss prevention." [[As if any stupid stone could stop her.]]

"You keep saying 'ink'. Is this vampire slang or something?", Alice shuffled closer towards Adele. [align right] *(Warm.)* *(Soft.)* *(Annoying.)* [align left] "No. You just heard me wrong." "No, I'm sure I heard you right. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but..." She had that innocent look in her eyes. Almost like she didn't know what Ethel was or what she could do, even if she experienced it first hand so many times. [align right] *(Ethel? Who's Ethel? There's no Ethel.)* [align left] The fangs didn't grow but there was that pressure in her gums, the pulse in her palate. A warning which she [[wasn't going to heed]].

*** She woke up in a big house. There was nothing she could recall, no memory of this place or who she was, a slate wiped clean. She knew she had a dream, a very important dream, but she couldn't remember the details. Whatever this place was, it was empty. That's what she told herself, at least. The bedsheets were tangled and torn. She knew them well, even if she couldn't tell how. *(She could.)* With some hesitation, she pulled them off the bed to reveal the deep red bloodstains on the mattress. She remembered she was a vampire in that moment. *(She always knew.)* The blood, it could be hers, since the old blood had to go somewhere. She touched her nose to check but all she could feel- [align right] [[*(No, it's not- it's ink. It's ink. It's-)*]]

It wasn't and she knew it but admitting what it really was would be an admission of guilt. She couldn't have that, no, she had to pretend to forget until she thought she forgot, until she led enough new lives to bury all her faults beneath them so she doesn't have to confront herself. Now, she tried to become someone new again, despite not changing at all to escape what she's done, all in spite of the evidence lying right in front of her. She didn't forget anything. [[She knew who she was]].

And so the whole theatre came crashing down and all of the Etheldreds and Ethels and Adeles tumbled out of the backstage, all of them being a grand accusation against that new self which she wanted to create. She's always been like this, biting when she shouldn't, tearing apart those who didn't deserve it, and she didn't want to be at fault for any of this. With each new iteration, she attempted to defang herself while still keeping her fangs ready and hoped to render herself powerless while giving up nothing. It was a contradiction after a contradiction, all piling up throughout centuries. [[It wasn't sustainable.]]

What was she now? {cycling link, choices: ['Etheldred', 'Ethel', 'Adele']}? Did it matter? The safety that cutting off her old painful unlives granted her was now gone and reality started seeping right into her mind, yet she still fought it, as if she could [[rewrite history]].

How old was she, anyway? She was just a child yesterday, just a child at a grand feast, so innocent, innocent enough to fool everyone except others her own age. No, she was old, far too old, a real survivor, and therefore superior to every damn human she met. Or she was stuck somewhere in that liminal space between a teenager and an adult, in that awkward growth stage where you're meant to figure out everything on your own, always on your own, and you're too young and too old for everything all at once. Or it was irrelevant and she was a hollow ageless thing, a force of nature, animal instinct stuck in an undying body. [[The "ink" — the blood — was still warm when she touched it.]]

[align right] *every winter was warm when you had enough blood in yourself* *{cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} could never be cold again so {cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} licked from the puddle underneath the horse and its rider* *he still held his son in his arms* *children do that all the time* *they eat what they shouldn't* *they overeat when something tastes good* *{cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} wasn't any different and yet everyone's judging* *{cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} ate the red snow too and everyone who came to see what happened* *that place is a safehouse now* *{cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} [[cursed it]] like {cycling link, choices: ['she curses', 'i curse']} everything*

[align right] *last winter was warm because the planet's fucked so {cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} might as well do whatever {cycling link, choices: ['she wants', 'i want']}* *it was some anniversary of {cycling link, choices: ['her', 'my']} first meeting with erin in that café and {cycling link, choices: ['they', 'we']} talked about how the snow doesn't even fall anymore* *she smelled like death then and that's why {cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} wanted to love her so badly that {cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} practically convinced {cycling link, choices: ['herself', 'myself']} to love her* *{cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} thought about divorcing her without ever thinking about engagement* [[*nobody ever loved anyone on this earth anyway*]]

[align right] *it's a warm winter now and {cycling link, choices: ['she stays', 'i stay']} the same* *it'll be another warm winter in a year and in a decade and in a century* *and {cycling link, choices: ['she', 'i']} will [[stay the same]]*

Without thinking, {cycling link, choices: ['Etheldred', 'Ethel', 'Adele']} touched her face with her bloodstained hand. Her fingers traced the line of her jaw, then slid down her neck, stopping right at the collarbone. She mimicked that one moment before everything went downhill like a ritual, the purpose of which she wasn't entirely sure of. Wasn't red the color of love and life? Affection. It had to be a show of affection. {cycling link, choices: ['Etheldred', 'Ethel', 'Adele']} touched everything she could in that room then: the bed, the floor, the walls, that hematite, the cards. For once, she *made* something instead of destroying it. Was it art yet? A room full of tiny artworks, [[red, red, red]]...

[align right] *like the snow* *like the water going down the drain* *like this bed* *gallery of {cycling link, choices: ['her', 'my']} [[failures]]*

[align right] *(You can't put blood back where you spilled it from.)* [align center] *(But you can acknowledge you spilled it, clean it up, and never do it again if you don't need to. That's always a choice you have and you can take it at any time. You can't ever turn back time but there's a whole future in which [[you can do better]].)*

[align right] *(I can do better.)* [align center] [[*(Yes. Always.)*]]

[align right] *[[(But I want to bite.)]]*

[align right] *(That's what vampires do. We bite and we drink blood. We're predators, we've always been, and I can't change what I am. My whole existence relies on hurting someone else — you're stupid to think I can just quit that.)* *(So, don't bother talking to me about this bullshit anymore. [[You're not wanted here]].)*

*** The city Vigil came back to wasn't the city he left. There were less people everywhere and those humans he could see were constantly looking over their shoulders, especially when passing through the spots of shadows on the Journeyman's Boulevard. *Avoid the dark*, one helpful man told him, *that's where it's lurking*. He didn't want to elaborate. The Smokeroom got closed, this time for good. People went missing there far too often and the thick cigarette smoke lingering in the air made it far too easy for someone with bad intentions to drag someone out, even though everyone was watching. The Apprentice followed, though that could be because its owner was found dead. [[Many more people were found dead.]]

At first, Vigil thought it's all a work of someone new. He and his friend (or rather, *friends*), [[Forty-and-Four]], managed to find a relatively freshly turned vampire — an [[all too familiar]] one for Vigil.

[align center] No, it's not because there's forty four of us. It's a reference. No, we can't explain, it's- it's complicated. What did we- right. We think spending an entire eternity without having at least one strange name is kind of wild. Get weird with it at least once. It's good for you. {back link}

Alice didn't waste time and explained what happened. She was remarkably calm for someone whose life just ended, even though she was rather confused about how things truly work. Forty-and-Four were teaching her while Vigil prowled the city, trying to find what he believed to be [[the cause of all this trouble]].

He found her near the train station, hunched over a poor tourist who probably didn't get the memo about how dangerous this city has become. "It's your fault", {cycling link, choices: ['Etheldred', 'Ethel', 'Adele']} said. "If you didn't leave me, none of this would've happen." "It wouldn't", Vigil replied, "because [[I'd kill you]] before you'd even think about any of this."

Some sinking boats were unsalvageable. The next best thing, then, was to drill some more holes into them to help them reach the bottom faster, where they could finally rest. That's what Vigil did. There was no epic fight; in fact, it was quick — unlike {cycling link, choices: ['Adele', 'Etheldred', 'Ethel']}, he never enjoyed violence. It was a mercy kill but the memory would haunt him for a long time, just like the guilt he felt over bringing {cycling link, choices: ['Adele', 'Etheldred', 'Ethel']} to the city in the first place. Forty-and-Four took everyone on a long trip, mostly to monitor how Alice was adapting to the vampire life. It was rough at first due to how she was as a human but over time, she managed to get herself under control. She had some quirks, as all vampires did: she carried a bloodied Tower card and a hematite with herself, and she often allowed those she was biting to bite her back. There was some explanation for this which was promptly forgotten, probably because it wasn't worth remembering. The city would heal eventually and life would return to the Journeyman's Boulevard but it'd take long, long years before that happened. Vigil came back from time to time, just to see how everything gets fixed, just to find how deeply unhelpful the local government is. He dedicated himself to helping the people as much as he could, perhaps to [[atone]] in his own way.

Somewhere on the other end of the line, Erin opened a bottle of blood red ink to finish the portrait she found while cleaning her apartment. Her hand shook as she dipped her fingers, then traced just like she remembered it: on the line of the jaw, on the neck, down to the collarbone. "That's your crazy ex?", Becky asked, looking over Erin's shoulder. "The one that bit you?" "The same one." "She looks kinda dead." The portrait was done now. That was some sort of closure. It didn't even feel cursed anymore. "I think she might've been, yeah."