#variousmethodsofescape

Black Metal was a little out of Tyler’s realm. He had been one of those dumb “I hate this town” Pop punk kids for at least the last ten years, so he was pretty sure that this festival was kind of a mistake. Regardless, there were some good food trucks that had drink specials, and he was about to get hammered after his set. 

He had gotten himself a margarita in a red solo cup. Classy as usual. Of course he walked around like he owned the place. But of course fate had to intervene. Tyler trips, straight up busts ass, margarita flying out of his hand. Oh,that waste of tequila hurts his soul! 

The drink lands square on somebody’s chest. Tyler gets up, this is either going to go smoothly or its going to end in a fight. He’s alright with either outcome. 

“Hey man, I’m sorry about that.” He says, though he’s really not and he thinks it’s quite funny.

      A bubble of a giggle escaped passed her lips, a merry grin forming upon them for she was quite... tipsy. Not drunk, per say. But on the verge of being drunk. Normally she wouldn’t indulge too much of alcohol. However, it seemed as though today was the day to do so for no apparent reason. Or maybe there was. Who knows. 

    There she was, Amelia lounged back on her simple black upholstered loveseat, off to the side to the armrest, where she propped her right elbow on it and her hand covering half of her face as she basked in the drunken sensations she was feeling. Her usual upkept hair was quite disheveled -- few hair strands misplaced and curls turned into waves. Her emerald orbs then trailed off to the side to her first progeny, Aleister, in centuries. He looked rather moody tonight, which wasn’t surprising to her. 

    A wide smirk formed on her lips, completely replacing her grin. “ Come now, darling. it’s just blood. You need to feed. Maybe an alcoholic drink will aid you? “ Even when drunk, she can be sardonic and sarcastic. 

      Humans never ceased to amaze her by their sheer stupidity and unadulterated will of getting in harms way. It would seem as though they just want to perish without meaning to. And currently appeared to be those days where humans are willing to do something toward the occult ordeal. 

     The moment she stepped inside the abandoned building (of course) where the meeting took place, Amelia sensed a rouge vampire that she was hunting for sport. Usually, she care not for her own kind. However, when one thought of her to be a fool for losing her own progenies to human hunters, it angered immensely. The topic of her precious twins was a sore topic, obviously so. She adored them. They were her whole life and they were taken from her.

    As she stepped deeper into the building, she met the thick wall of freshly spilled blood. Then she witnessed the bodies that littered the ground. The ancient vampire merely rolled her eyes at the mess, feeling nothing for the poor souls that were murdered. The petite woman was only there to kill the vampire with her bare hands and nothing more. 

    Speaking of which, Lia had found him feasting on one last soul. She could still hear the heartbeat of the poor sod. Uttering not a word, she used one of her abilities to fling the other vampire to the wall with a sardonic smile etched on her lips. She kept them pinned while she remained quiet as the other struggled to break free of her invisible hold, which was all for naught as they immediately burned from her sheer will. 

     Once done, she hn’ed and turned her back to the ashed body, readying to leave. However, she still can hear a heartbeat, albeit faintly. The vampire closed her eyes and thought to herself for all but a moment before making her decision: save the human. Amelia turned on her heel and knelt before the young adult, her emerald orbs grazing his pale features and long hair; such contrast. It was morbid and beautiful. A lithe hand curled behind his neck, cradling it with such ease it seemed she was afraid he will crumble into nothing. He just needed blood, her blood to become like her and then she will release him to the world. No, that would ruin her image. 

      Her eyes threatened to roll from her skull from this situation but she’s going to go through with it. She tore her wrist before pushing it over his lips and ordered for him to drink all while she kept her gleaming emerald orbs on his. 

She actually doesn’t have work today and it’s a glorious feeling. Red plaid pleated skirt, the very same old boots she’s always wearing, a plain black t-shirt, sitting on the stoop of...someone’s building.

“You again?”

Come to think of it, she never did remember his name, “S’your name again?” Something with an A? What a good mood for once. That boy again. He showed up to the diner, and he used it right all over again. Twice. On her bed and the kitchen counter.