The continuous thudding of beating hearts was driving Wyatt insane. He was caught in a constant battle between who he was and the monster that vampirism was threatening to create. Usually, he could keep a handle on his addiction, if he wasn’t around anyone that was actively bleeding, but the moment that he was – no matter how hard he had tried to stop himself, he had blacked out before his fangs had even broken flesh and before he knew it, he was fleeing the scene of a massacre.
The first few times had been overwhelming. He was full of panic and remorse and he couldn’t quite comprehend how he had committed such violent acts and even though he had taken lives before through hunting – nothing could have compared to this. He was feral as he fed, his lips would curl back from his fangs and animalistic growls would urge from his lungs as he ripped his victims apart and hours later, once he stumbled away from his messes, he wouldn’t have complete memories of his actions. All he knew is that he had to get himself cleaned up.
That in itself was a specific ritual. He would scrub at his skin, rubbing the flesh raw and as it would begin to heal, he would repeat his actions, over and over again until he felt somewhat satisfied that he was cleansed. But the hunger was never dormant for long. He found himself often hunting for his next victims, between periods of lucidity.
He had no idea what was going on with him, sure he had come across plenty of rippers in his time, but he refused to believe that was what was happening to him. So, where better to find answer’s than at the boarding school. He found himself amidst the supernatural history books, restless to flick through the pages and discard of the material once he deemed it unworthy of attention. Having noted the presence of another, he couldn’t help but play up to the attention. He continued to flick books from the shelves, scoffing as he did so as he murmured, “lame. Boring. ugh, factually inaccurate. Where are the fun one’s with the pictures?”
@mysticofthefallenstarter
Harper was dropping her little sister off at some witchy craft club their mother insisted would be good for her. While she was at the school she thought it would be no issue to borrow a few things from the science labs but on her way she heard the thumps of things being thrown around and her curious mind got the best of her. Sticking her head into the room she raised a brow at the man trashing the room, “If you don’t know how to read just say so, the grade school books are in the lower grades wing. Understandable how you can get lost, if picture books are your speed reading the map might be difficult.”
