#commonmonsters.

The wicker basket tucked into her elbow is already half-full with a collection of locally-made goods, all of which she's eager to try. Although she tries to visit the market regularly, sometimes... well, sometimes, she just can't bear the thought of people. The overwhelming noise of dozens of conversations all at once, the smell of the market's baked goods mixed with the unmistakable scent of everything human... not to mention, the expectation of conversation. If it weren't for her work, Carina could go weeks without speaking to a soul, and she'd be quite happy to do it.

Her visit to the market marks the end of her weekend, and she plans to make the best of it, even if that means overspending just a bit.

Near the end of the market's main alleyway, a stand draws Carina's eye. So much color. A variety of vegetables, jars of preserves & pickles, bundles of herbs, even vases full of flowers. Carina finds herself among the tables before she's even realized she's moved.

Though the market bustles around her, this small nook seems so far away from everywhere else. Even the scent of the market is muddled now, replaced instead by the aroma of fresh cut flowers. She can't resist leaning down and sniffing one of the vases. Roses, one of very few scents that don't bother her sensitive nose.

Another of the tables holds a palette of tomatoes. Carina hums as she inspects them. With a bundle of basil, and a few tomatoes, she can practically smell a delicious tomato sauce. In fact, she's sure she has fresh pasta at home.

At her back, a noise. Carina turns, still holding a tomato. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you back there," she tells the stranger. "I was just considering... are these tomatoes good for pasta sauce? I'm afraid I'm uneducated on the... varieties," Carina grins, sheepish.

the streets are crowded with taxi cabs, and the sidewalks with people. buildings stretch to the sky, advertisements & billboards pasted along their facades. even the sky, so familiar to her, is so different: starless. it seems even the moon has been snuffed out by the city lights.

harley lifts herself onto her toes, carefully examining the signs along the sidewalk, peering over the heads of the tourists around her. across the street, just a short walk further, is a short staircase leading into an alley, labeled only by an a-frame sign reading " gallery. " that's what she's been searching for.

carefully making her way across the crowded street, ignoring the honking cab drivers, harley steps past the sign and down the staircase.

each wall of the gallery is dedicated to an artist, but the furthest back wall is where harley finds herself. a collection of roberto matta's pieces, including harley's favorite: sick flesh.

she takes her time, admiring each piece before moving on to another. although she traveled here for matta's collection, she's always found herself drawn to paintings. immortal as she is, she can't imagine finding the patience to paint in the way so many humans have mastered. one of those fascinating things about humans; one she never noticed when she was human herself.

as she steps around the corner, a chill runs along her spine. her head whips around instinctively, eyes falling on a blonde woman standing near the doorway. their eyes meet and harley can feel it.

all too aware of the people surrounding them, harley steps towards her, hands clenched into fists at her side. surely, she has reason to be nervous, oblivious to what this strange new vampire could do to her, or to everyone else.

just a few steps away, harley stops.

"hello," she clears her throat, "i wasn't expecting to run into... well, someone else."