#thao

The never-ending biting cold was making her irritable. Not because the cold bothered her, but because she hated the reminder of a human life better left alone. Sucking air between her teeth, she plucked a lollipop off the shelf, and ignored the way the gas station attendant started yelling from their silly little aquarium in the middle of the parking lot. Snow and ice crunch under her feet, and she grimaces as it brings memories of dancing under flurries and freezing in alleyways.

Stupid silly life and stupid silly death.

Another figure isn't far off. The lollipop simply tastes like nothing in her mouth, and she wonders if the taste of blood will help. The tattooed woman is minding her own business, but Oksana is nothing if not proud of being annoying - while her mind shifts and twists to give her a fun narrative to play.

Ah, but no heartbeat. No meal. Maybe a shared meal?

"You there." She plucks the lollipop from between her teeth and points with it, "You seem like you'd be a fun hunting partner. I'm bored, we do this together."

Birdie steps through the doors of the place, looking around at all the flash art, taking in the scent of antiseptics and inks. It's a unique sent to parlors, not to the dingy underground dens Skinner had kept his prizes in - that she'd been held down in and inked on.

She'd waited until there was nobody parked outside on purpose; people don't need to hear any of what either of them might have to say.

She knows what she did. It's one of the greatest shameful things to come out of that moment of weakness that spawned six months of anarchic chaos last year. Birdie had long sworn that if she ever made another vampire, she'd walk into the sun, and here she was, staring down her progeny - two of the abused, turned abuser. At least the artist had the excuse of compulsion, of truly being robbed of choice.

It makes Birdie shrink in her coat, even if outwardly she tries to maintain her collective shit.

It dawns on her, in all of her pursuit, she'd never even learned her name.

The flashing memory his her, fingers around her throat, all guilt or remorse thrown off, crushing the life out of her to steal the last rook in Skinner's corner. No consideration. She'd told someone to dump the body - hadn't even cared if she made it out of her first sunrise, or how many people she might feed on in those early days of hunger.

All that guilt weighs on her face in those first few words. "You know me?"

It's such a stupid question.

You're so early in the morning/I'm so late at night

We waste the same day/like no one dies

^ this guy 😎

Lasts so long / Hurts so bad