Confession time: sometimes you want to see someone bleed… just to watch the life drain out of them. Drop by drop, spilling onto the ground and wasted away. You want to see the look in their eyes of fear turn to panic, struggle to acceptance, knowing not a single taste will graze your lips as your prey dies without mercy.
It isn’t pretty and it isn’t nice.
I prefer willing donors — not because I feel less guilty about it (I don’t) but because it’s the right thing to do… in my mind.
Vampires need a connection to humanity, a reflection of our lost mortality. Without it, it’s too easy to lose touch, become withdrawn, and turn into what naysayers are always afraid we are: mindless predators. But even those aren’t as bad as what I see.
When the powerful exert themselves over the powerless merely because they can, I become attentive. They’re not taking from you because they can; they enjoy the take, reveling in your loss, feeding into their own power with the supreme confidence there’s nothing you can do about they can do to you.
I hate myself for daydreaming about my taloned hands around their throat, enjoying their pointless struggling viewed through my empty eyes, and smiling at their raspy protests choked short before forming discernible words.
I take solace in one fact: time destroys all things… unless you’re a Vampire.
We get to watch you fall. You will fall. It will be miserable for you.
Comeuppances for the deserved. Bodies floating by in the stream of existence.
Until then, I hope those assholes see us in their nightmares chasing them unto the ends of the earth.
Take your power seriously. Keep each other safe. Be indomitable.