#tullysinclair

         walking through the front door of the gala is like stepping into another world entirely.  they take the room apart piece by piece, anything less than extreme meticulousness doesn’t serve them. they’ve done their best to prepare for what they were to see tonight, but they’d only been able to find stories of past conclaves from word-of-mouth. the accuracy of françoise’s prediction of the night could not be understated: there are several people there that they hate. but with every one that draws aggravation, there’s two that beckons curiosity. they know fresh meat when they see it, stumbling, wide-eyed in a room full of monsters. before they’re close enough to make sure, vera guesses vampire based on the acute tremble in her lip that reads hunger. the older- but only slightly, comparatively to the ancient beings that they share the gala with -vampire is not subtle in their approach but isn’t so quick to point a finger.  “ you look lost. ”  she says, smooth against the sound of the music in the background as they trust her new, crisp vampire ears will hear them. vera sidles until they’re standing next to each other, she’s staring at the food that won’t feed her, and the blood that will.  “ am i right? ”