Post by Kriss on Dec 7, 2008 15:10:15 GMT -5
Time meant nothing to one of the damned. They lived forever. A month was as long as an hour, a minute was a day. They had no need to even speculate the passing of time. Yet, at some point, it was evident that time had passed, that there had been a change.
Months had passed since that wicked encounter in the Castille. Krisstiana had died then, it seemed. She also lived. It was indescribable. For a moment, a small flicker of time, she was more powerful than she had ever imagined. She felt the blood of ages past in her dry veins and felt the hatred and sin of Cain one with her own.
Then she felt hellfire and immortal death. It lasted for what felt to be ages, even if it had only been an hour or less. That blood, the blood of a Nephilim and the blood of Cain himself, poured out of her and onto the stone floor of the Library. She was left dry once again, and someone saved her. She never knew who. Once the blade was removed from her chest she left the Castille and has yet to return.
She had dug up a grave in the crypt and removed the corpse. Every evening she would awake and claw her way out of the dirt, then every morning she would dig her way back into her pit and sleep again. She fed rarely, only drinking the blood of the occasional school-child and once or twice the blood of a small animal. She had no urge to feed, no urge to slaughter. She fed to continue her pitiful existence.
Tonight, she found herself sitting on the obelisk that marked the grave she slept in, her eyes focused on the sky above. Kriss' pale skin reflected the light of the sliver of moon, her eyes shone like two red lights in the twilight of the stars. A clear sky was always a blessing. It meant that there would almost certainly be some foolish school-child out at the crypt past curfew. It had been several days since she last fed.
She let out a sharp whistle, causing the birds in the trees around the crypt to take flight. A small fox took off running away from the grounds. She would keep track of it, she thought, just in case a student never came. She was hungry and that fox looked delicious.
Months had passed since that wicked encounter in the Castille. Krisstiana had died then, it seemed. She also lived. It was indescribable. For a moment, a small flicker of time, she was more powerful than she had ever imagined. She felt the blood of ages past in her dry veins and felt the hatred and sin of Cain one with her own.
Then she felt hellfire and immortal death. It lasted for what felt to be ages, even if it had only been an hour or less. That blood, the blood of a Nephilim and the blood of Cain himself, poured out of her and onto the stone floor of the Library. She was left dry once again, and someone saved her. She never knew who. Once the blade was removed from her chest she left the Castille and has yet to return.
She had dug up a grave in the crypt and removed the corpse. Every evening she would awake and claw her way out of the dirt, then every morning she would dig her way back into her pit and sleep again. She fed rarely, only drinking the blood of the occasional school-child and once or twice the blood of a small animal. She had no urge to feed, no urge to slaughter. She fed to continue her pitiful existence.
Tonight, she found herself sitting on the obelisk that marked the grave she slept in, her eyes focused on the sky above. Kriss' pale skin reflected the light of the sliver of moon, her eyes shone like two red lights in the twilight of the stars. A clear sky was always a blessing. It meant that there would almost certainly be some foolish school-child out at the crypt past curfew. It had been several days since she last fed.
She let out a sharp whistle, causing the birds in the trees around the crypt to take flight. A small fox took off running away from the grounds. She would keep track of it, she thought, just in case a student never came. She was hungry and that fox looked delicious.