CLARITY.

Where was class these days? The older the world turn, the worse it got. IT seemed like manners were completely lost and the scum of the earth walked as if they were one of them. It was why she was proud of the Dracula corporations. There was class there and power and etiquette. There were rules which had to be followed. There was a structure in it that others very much lacked.

"Unlike some, I have taste." As if she would sink as low as to drink from someone who couldn't get the proper words out. Let alone have a rich enough dictionary to string together a proper sentence. No, she would not let the lower class touch her lips.

"Seems like you're drowning sorrows. Again." Such a pitty Victor lost those he loved so much. She was sure there was no one left, but because he was in town, she might pick up that file once more. Couldn't have someone like him having a happy life, now could she?. Not after what he poorly attempted to do. "Missing your loved ones, Vicky? Visit their graves yet? Did you find... Of what was her name... The name had a nice ring to it..."

Perhaps, had he not endured the past few centuries of those exact low blows, he'd have thought her comment was rather cruel. He'd claim that too much time had passed for him to truly miss them. He has lived longer without them than with them. Memories alone force him to seek the bottom of a bottle. So, his eyes glaze over, though the muscles in his jaw tense slightly

"Ah, Celeste. Your age is really starting to show." A hand is placed over his chest in mock sympathy. "It hurts me to see you this way," he says sarcastically. She could pretend to forget their names but he knew she hadn't forgotten how their bodies had turned into ash, eliminating any chance of resurrection.

"You must be nervous," he says indolently, "Yapping away like this. I hear Dracula is supposed to wake up soon." A crooked smirk. "Is this you, enjoying your last few days of walking around without your leash?"

"Eurgh," he groans loudly, tilting his head back. A blank stare settles on the man, who'd obviously mistaken him for someone who was helpful. "No, everyone else is running around because they're giving corndogs out for free." A stupid question deserves a stupid answer. "And go where?" Victor replies casually, taking a sip of his drink. The thought of returning to the motel where people would undoubtedly complain about broken windows and the like keeps his feet rooted to the spot. "At least the rollercoasters aren't falling apart here," he says drily. "That's pretty impressive."

Her twilight walk had rarely ever been one that she took alone. There was always someone lurking behind, walking a few paces behind, or hiding a few streets away. For her security, she supposed, but then again - was it really, when she could simply tear their throats out just because of the sounds they made when breathing? Not all, of course. The newer, fresher ones, ones that tried.

Really, there would always be those who were made to be a vampire, and those who put a stain to dear Dracula's bloodline, to her bloodline. Like the ones who wore those shiny, awful jumpsuits. Really, the fashion had changed a lot faster these days. Before, centuries had to pass before there was a change introduced. The Renaissance was absolutely awful in France - the humans literally rotted in their wigs, and gowns consisting of a tight-fitting bodice and full skirts that would hang down to the ankles suffocating their week long sweat. Of course, they all thought some cocaine and perfume would fix that, but for her, it was truly awful. In the last century the changes came by the decade, and really - the 80s were turning out to be the worst of them all. At least the hippies had something... Now the humans looked as if they had lost their bearings and the little they had left inside of their minds.

"Schweeeeet." A human breezed past her, eyeing her figure. "Shit, you look bitchin'."

Celeste, naturally ignored, knowing full well that she didn't need to feed.

What happened to men courting women?

It was then that Celeste caught movement, one that was familiar and yet not. A faint memory of the scent with whom she had crossed paths with before.

Even now, as he could hear the radio being blasted from a nearby car, his ears bled from the manufactured and synthetic sounds people these days call music. Express Yourself? No, please, do less. Little, if anything, scared Victor these days, but people's enthusiasm when radios were installed into cars made him fear for the future of humanity. To willingly let someone talk to you when they were nowhere in your vicinity, to feel joy from it... they were heading into the dark ages.

Something he couldn't complain about was Cinnamon Toast Crunch. A family box in one hand, he eats out of the other like an obedient dog. The last piece is thrown into his mouth when he spots Celeste walking towards him. Victor had been accustomed to seeing her under the glow of the midnight moon or a dull lamp. The neon lights from street signs illuminating her features made her an all the more unpleasant sight.

"No thanks, I just washed mine." Slurred words, from an evening of finishing a bottle of whiskey in the ever-exciting confines of the motel reception desk. The Draculas and The Borgias could tear each other apart, for all he cared. Their blood was no longer his to spill.

"Are you on a diet?" He asks, in a lazy drawl, referencing the human she'd simply allowed to keep walking, as he takes slow and relaxed steps to approach her. "That's very unlike you."