Stillness. It had become something Gwen had come to appreciate. In her overly long life, she witnessed unending change, one change after another, an endless cycle of life and death. Stillness was the reprieve, a rarity that she only ever found alone. She herself embodied it. A millennia in the same body, harbouring the same soul, she was the exception to change, to the cycle, and now the girl lying still before her was too. Abigail Bunker, at least that what her chart said, was eighteen, a girl with an unending history of illness, and from the bruises on her body, possibly a bit more. Gwen didn't know what compelled her to turn the poor girl, what thoughts crossed her mind when she saw her, but here she was, in her living room, waiting for her to take her first breath in her new life.
A perfect twenty-four hours after the ritual, she saw her shift; the previously dead body coming back to life. "Good morning, Abigail," she greeted, a natural husk to her voice. She approached the couch and waited for eyes to flicker open, for some acknowledgement that something was off. The last time those eyes had opened, they were in an empty hospital room, just before Gwen had turned her and stole her away. It was a rather easy task; Abigail wasn't closely monitored, something Gwen wasn't surprised by. Hospitals were pits of death and patients that were just waiting to die inspired a hopelessness that anyone would have wanted to avoid. Green eyes shifted towards the window, taking in the night that would become her day; one that had only just started.
