#s;para

The warm winter has finally came in, even though Celeste couldn’t go outside much. Edward was such a child. Sure he is barely a month old, but he had already grew such an attachment to her. He even made her miss the Grammy awards, not that she would mind. He was her precious little boy. The young mother quietly rocked her child to sleep in her arms, patting his back very softly.

Quickly she’d drawn the collar of her coat in closer, the thin strands sticking out in dipped colors of that faux fur lining tickling the fair skin of her neck as she adjusted it’s material. Soft to the pads of her fingers and yet falling completely useless to her immortal form. Such a silly little thing to put effort into, and yet she did it with the utmost of care so there’d be nothing to alert to her true nature.

❝ Noona ❞ chimed a thick voice, heavy with a cute little country boy’s accent which only seemed to melt like butter on the boy’s deep tone. The vampire turned and smiles. ❝ Chul-ah... all done? ❞ She’d speak sweetly. The boy smiled widely and held up a large pink and white striped box. Slowly she’d hum. ❝ Come then, my love... I’m getting too far too peckish to be out this late... let’s return. ❞ Tenderly she’d hold out her hand to grasp the much rougher skin of the others. It’s coarseness scraping as her own softness and yet she’d seem to notice nothing. 

This was a routine the she-vamp found herself in the habit of lately. Spend her time with a cute naive boy who’d foolishly tell themselves that they love her. Accept anything about her because of this love, and try in their own little ways to change her. Surprisingly different each time, but the end to the story all ending up the same. She’d take and take until there’d be nothing left, and dispose of the empty shell that was once so beautiful.

Somehow no longer being the independent vampiress that walked with confidence, but a parasitic wall-flower who no longer remembered her former glory.... that was what he’d done to her when he left... and she was still picking up the pieces. For a lack of better words. Or rather it’d be closer to the truth to say she’d left the shattered pieces of glass along the floor to cut and cut as long as she could still pretend that it never existed.

The vampiress steps echoed loudly. Extended, slender heels breaking sound harshly against that stone floor. Each step bouncing from one wall to the next, locked in an infinite dance until it’s origin fell lost in its travels. Up, through, and out. An old church long since forgotten by man, now sitting alone to surrender it exists to the will of only one. Time.

How surreal it felt to walk down the isles like she did in a time long since past. A time where she’d surrendered herself and all her wickness to a being of the mind and lived out a life within the monastery. I retreat lost amongst thick woods and high mountains, hidden from the world and yet immersed in it. The true beauty of life could be found here, she’d ascended within this walls and now she stood here once more. Turning corners and walking up slippery steep steps, an older and more experienced woman.

Here, her blonde hair and turbulent eyes were but a painting. Here, only her intent mattered, only her belief. That she didn’t believe in what the others sisters did, she dares not say, but how she clung on to ideas every cold night... Her room was the same as she’d left it. Though void of any simple furniture, the wood, and straw having deteriorated long ago, the stones looked almost exactly the same... and the smell. 

It’s been 50 years. I’ve moved back to my home country and oh how it’s changed... Though I miss my home, my family finally started to outgrow me and the humans in their ignorance, finally started to notice. It actually hurt this time... moving on. Destroying any remains of my past life – My life as Jia is over – I think somewhere in my heart I came to love my false family... for all their frailty and imperfections. Being with them kept my mind from lingering on what my life use to be... and for a moment, I was truly content with just that.

Now, I have nothing... I am Seojin now. The daughter of a scholar, a new character who’s too ill to spend much time outside, my face remains mystery, and spends most of my day with poetry and art. I can’t say I’m too upset the sudden change – Jia was such a social butterfly. – But... I dread getting close to another once more. I dread the servants, my new father, even the husband I must eventually take... because if I dare let myself love once more... I doubt I can handle it’s loss.

I tire of these games. My life has become such a routine that if it weren't for the different faces and names, I’d think it all just a dream and lose myself like so many of my kind has done already. I am lonely in a house constantly buzzing with life, and plagued by my husband, who has become my father, ascending to grandfather, to ancestor. It’s always the same.

I suppose I must look for another now, my own darling is already beginning to age past me, soon we will not match and again I most tamper memories and promote his role.... For myself... a new name, a new personality, but still the same fake smile.

Oh journal if I could but happen across my maker again and be lost in bliss like I use to in my younger years. Let the time fly and I can just be...happy, but alas that’s the dreams of a child not yet grown from her mothers bosom. I sigh in pain because I know now that my immortal life is all but glass for everyone to view and me not to honestly enjoy.

It is a strange feeling to be the artist, coating this odd parchment in a strange combination of symbols, but I must admit to myself.. and to you most of all journal. I fear. I have come to terms that it is in the human nature to desire conflict, and to pursue war. Peace is but the element to drive a soldier and his supports to work harder. A illusion to keep up morale. We are enjoying peace and as I walk down the path and meet others, it is merely not enough.

There is something missing, a craving I can almost smell on their species. The next war will probably be swift. Some dictator trying to oppress our freedom, and yes.. even one such as me fears. With every coming battle, new instruments of death are brought to light – So creative the mind can be – and I find myself wondering ‘Will this finally be the end of my life?’ Who would of thought that one such as me truly wishes to live.

I fear for my books, I fear for my knowledge, my life, and the pitiful lives of those around me. The silly slaves and my silly husband. I must take to town.. and hear the words from the lips of someone more in touch with news than I. If I must uproot my family for safety then I shall do so, or pray the enemy’s knocking on our lands do not meet my wrath. If a thief threatening to steal from us will die by my hand, I pity the fool threatening the lives I own......