effiemyers:
“You’ve never had syren blood.” Fey blood was her favorite but she never did like to give away her preferences - cards close to her chest as always. Wytches didn’t stand a chance around Effie, quite happy to rid the world of them. They were greedy and fiendish, a truly terrible bunch. Past experience dictated an abhorrence to everything they stood for. One day she’d avenge her past self but until then she had no qualms with seeing them suffer. “Feel nothing? I feel things incredibly deeply, like my current level of second-hand embarrassment for you is through the roof.” She was being cruel but these jobs had to come with some release for her. Without she’d just running around after the lost lambs of the vamp community with nothing to show for it beyond a glowing report card and a migraine that would last a lifetime. “A babysitter isn’t a nanny service, you don’t qualify for any extra perks.” She hadn’t been struck with having a weak stomach. Even her first kill hadn’t really shocked her, she felt like she could bathe in blood rather than being adverse to it. Watching Silas throw up wasn’t all that pleasant, truly a waste of whatever that young woman’s life had been worth. “Is this your only source of blood? Random chance encounters? You know, we have to feed for life- You need to secure something more… Stable.” Effie just liked to secure partners instead, ones that didn’t mind a little pinch now and again, and those who found it quite rewarding. There were other means, in desperate times underhand deals with blood donation clinics were necessary but the faint aftertaste of plastic left so much to be desired. “Silas, with all due disrespect, do you think I’d trust you to clean this up?” Her manicured hand grabbed the young woman by the throat and dragged her to the edge of the alley, passing folks would be much less likely to see her. She then got busy, sending a text off to one of her house guards to deal with a small mess made. “You plannin’ on throwing up again or can I let you in my car?”
“I am not sure I want to have syren blood.” Fingers run through his hair as he listens. With an eye roll, he looks away from her. But he doesn’t have time to be offended or even argue with her about it. There is something else on his mind, something that he is anxious about. It bothers him that he doesn’t care that this woman is dead. He knows he should feel guilt, should be agonizing over it. At least that is what he thinks. If it had been his sister it would have been entirely different. Nodding, he stares at the pavement in deep thought, “Yeah, right. Sure.” With a blink of his eyes he reclaims his composure. “I used to be one of those extra perks. Would think they would be easier to dine on them, or dine out..” A heavy sigh shows he is starting to maybe accept what he has become. Slowly. His weak stomach has more to do with his anxious nerves. His caring actions and words were more of what he thinks is expected and what his mind tells him he should be feeling or saying. It was easy to ignore sorting how he is feeling out, processing it. Now there is a dead body in front of him. Everything just felt so overwhelming. “My parents send a monthly supply of blood bags, but I don’t really like them. I put them in a freezer. More out of habit now. Before my sister went to college, she lived with me and I always like to have a backup in case I couldn’t get fresh blood. Now that she is living in a dorm at school, I would rather starve. I would have kept my meal down if you hadn’t gotten me all worked up by killing her.” Or bringing his lack of empathy over it to the surface. “I don’t know you well enough to answer that.” It is an honest answer. “As long as you don’t plan on killing anyone.”
















