augustenvalentine.
“Enlighten me - What are you?” He asked, now more intrigued. “I enjoy poetry, if you must know. There’s something real behind a set of passionate words. Something somebody cares about. Something somebody else regrets. Fears.” He scoffed. “Loves.” The idea was silly.
“A vampire, sadly. But I’m a vegetarian. Well, no, I suppose I’m not really. I haven’t eaten a vegetable since 1938. But I don’t eat people.” She wrinkled her nose. “See, I do like poetry, when it’s short and sweet. But I’m very bad at reading long stories. Or anything else, really. I thought age would fix it. But I’m not really aging, am I?” She smiled. “That was pure rambling. I apologize. So you’re not human either? What are you?”
“Gross.” He couldn’t help letting the comment slip out. “So, what? You eat animals? Or, rather, drink them?” He questioned. “I know you’ve got to do something blood-related to live, so you’re not all that holy.” He analyzed. “I like dark poetry. It speaks to me, better than anything else. The poets that spilled their pain into the pages were... intoxicating, at times.” He loosely commented. “How old are you, vampire? Safe to say I’ll have the same problem when I’m older. I’m a demon, and I haven’t aged a bit since my sixteenth birthday. Mind you, that wasn’t too long ago, but still. I don’t see much changing. And, before you start, demons aren’t all as bad as you might think. I wouldn’t have killed you, at least. Not that I can now that I know you’re a bloodsucker.”
