Faites du shopping et en même temps, une bonne action 🖤 Pendant la durée du confinement, @eloab vous offre -20% sur l’ensemble de son e-shop (même les archives) avec le code AUDRESSINGSOLIDAIRE. Et pour chaque commande, 3€ seront reversés au personnel soignant. Ces photos datent de mai 2018 🖤 je portais mon sublime top « Salomé » @eloab et on pouvait encore se balader en toute insouciance sur nos belles plages du Nord... #eloab #solidaritecovid19 #stayathome https://www.instagram.com/p/B-uX5-Eiov_/?igshid=10x5fs13aaha3
Jamais marre du noir & blanc 🖤 Top #eloab via @eloab.fr Pantalon #zara (old) Baskets #newbalance via @spartoogram https://www.instagram.com/p/BnDdR9LHNA9/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=b5q0u02g4ri1
Every Day Life of a Bloodsucker, Chapter 1: Coffee and Nerves
How many eons had it been? How many thousands of years since the joy of playing at mortality had left me? I can scarce recall the last time that a genuine smile had played across my lips — let alone the last time I had taken joy in the beauty of the rising moon. It had all become…
Routine.
When existence becomes routine- you have already perished- as my kind say. Many of us at this phase begin seeking a way out. That is to say, we take various stabs- literally and figuratively- at taking our own immortal lives. Of course, time and time again these attempts are met with little more than the cruel reminder that this is our fate; that through no fault of ours the spark of life had left us derelict. But as with all manner of beings, there are those among us who are the outliers. Outliers such as myself.
Never once had I made an attempt on my own immortal existence. Frankly- the mere fact that I was immortal was plenty enough to keep me sound in my contentedness. But contentedness, as all people know, is hardly the equal of true happiness. So for eons I searched. I hopped all of the dive bars, met all of the celebrities, tried all of the extreme sports… For a time, I even dove into politics! Funny, how even creating a New World Order loses its mystique after a few renditions. Really, it was uninspired of me.
But, enough of this nihilism. This is not a story of my continued boredom, oh no! This is a story of the end of that boredom. The day that I met the being that would change my existence for- not forever- but certainly for the foreseeable future. As was always the case with these Boy meets Girl scenarios, or rather Girl meets Girl, I had not planned for this. I had not gone out that day with the intent of meeting some profound change. In fact, today was nothing more than routine. A visit to an inconsequential coffee shop in an inconsequential place, which resulted in an incredibly consequential shift in my perceptions.
Now, before I continue, now may well be a good time to express the sheer unlikelihood of this situation. I am Camilla Antoinelle. At least, that’s who I was before I was given the gift of immortality at the expense of other’s blood… Yes, vampirism. What, did you think I was just some lucky girl who struck big on the slot machine of life? Hardly. No, I was and still am- for all intents and purposes- a monster. A monster who had long since foregone that portion of her existence in which that fact held constant sway over her actions, of course. One who really didn’t mind the sun so much as her kin, but a monster nonetheless. I had gone out this day to have a nice cup of coffee- maybe find a nice target from whom to feed…
But the sight of someone like her out in a place like this… She caught my attention far more than may well have been proper from a woman of my apparent standing. What was more? That scent— I hadn’t encountered a scent quite so potent in… Well, ever. So naturally I deigned to investigate! What was more, that hair was simply enchanting, a color I had always favored- and by the scents I was picking up, wholly natural. For the first time in my unlife, I had no control over my actions. Latte in hand, I strode over to her table and asked…
“Is this seat taken?”
-----------------------------------------------
“Only if you're the one who takes it.”
The words slipped out of my lips as easy as breathing. Who was she? Did she know me or something? Did she 'want' to? I let out a breath I hadn't realized was held in as she sank into the seat opposite me. Beneath the table, I could feel the movement of her legs crossing one over the other as her eyes drank me in. Honestly, I was pretty weirded out by it. I mean, I'd been in a ton of situations like this before, so it wasn't as though it was anything new. Just pay as little mind as possible. But... For some reason, I was drawn in.
I live in a shell. My life has been defense after defense against siege after siege of unfortunate incidents. One after another, they've never stopped. I don't expect they will even still. This shell is something that I come out of only rarely, usually with close friends or real family. But this woman... Whose name I didn't even know- wait, I don't know her name. I haven't asked! Girl what the Hell!
“U-uhm... Anyway, I'm-” It trailed off there. I couldn't finish the sentence... Like all of that confidence her approach had built in me just melted away.
“My name is Camilla. You needn't be afraid, cheri.”
Her voice broke the silence before I even had a chance to panic. Her head tilted ever so slightly as her cherry red lips wrapped around the straw of her latte... A sight that I, admittedly, was way too fixated on.
“...Cheri?” I asked- my face blank, “I... Uhm, you're French?”
“Partially. I like to consider myself a multicultural woman.”
Her head tilted, like she was expecting something. The way that her eyes forced mine to keep held on them only reinforced that idea. So I decided then that I needed to just... Take the dive.
“My name is uhm... Lyra.” Just like that, I felt better. It was nothing more than an introduction but even still it gave me some sense of relief that it was over with. “I'm... Mostly European. My ancestors were all celts. I know Gaelic, but I don't really speak any other languages. Uhm...” My words trailed off again... I was rambling.
“Oh? Celtic? Why- cheri- I could hardly tell given your appearance. More Yukionna than Boudicca, wouldn't you say?~” Her free hand moved to cover her lips as she stifled a light laugh. “My family is from all over, really. I have relatives in Prague. Relatives in Paris. Relatives here, in the States. But... My family is really quite boring, you see.” Camilla watched me carefully. Gauging my movements to see how I would react, most likely. I couldn't afford to lash out like I wanted to... She was rich. That much I could tell at a glance by those designer clothes and the obvious preening she did to look that good.
“It's... Just something I was born with. White hair, red eyes... The medical term is albino. That's why I'm out at a coffee shop at 10 pm, you know. T-the sun and I... Don't really get along. Plus, people just kind've... Stare. Sort've like you.” It came out sharper than I wanted it to. But even with it, Camilla's expression didn't falter. She 'was' staring. In fact, she hadn't looked away once since she sat down.
“Why do you think that is, I wonder?” Her musing tone was light and airy, and her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Really. I'm quite interested in your view here, cheri. Tell me why I'm staring.”
“Because I'm a freak, obviously. You can say it. You keep staring like you want to.”
“Or perhaps I'd like to call you beautiful?”
I shouldn't have been so taken aback by it. It wasn't as though it was particularly inspired. An easy line at an easy moment- but nonetheless, I could feel the crimson flush coming to my cheeks as I averted my gaze. Even still, Camilla didn't look away. In fact her smile grew only more resplendent until it split apart in a genuine laugh with a touch of pleasant surprise. Was she that type? The type to be amused at other people's suffering?
“Why are you laughing..? I mean, how am I supposed to respond when someone like you walks up and just... 'Says' that?”
“Well, usually one responds in kind if they are so inclined. Alternatively you say that you are not interested in accepting the compliment, oui?” She laughed. A laugh as beautiful as anything. “
So Lyra? Are you interested in accepting my little compliment?” Her voice was frustrating. That tone was like something out of my dreams... Airy, sultry, a pleasing alto to contradict my own meek soprano. I couldn't respond. Frankly, I was hypnotized by sound alone. “Perhaps organize a time in the future where we might exchange compliments with one another in greater intimacy?~”
I thought about it. I turned my gaze down to the table as soon as the question as posed, my right hand lightly grasping the small straw of my macchiato as I swirled the concoction about.
“...No.” I finally said, my voice terse. I didn't know who she thought she was. I really didn't. But all I knew was that I just could not allow myself to be pulled in. I wasn't interested in anything like that... And certainly, not any one. “It's not really my thing to uhm... Let random women do as they please with me. Besides, you're... Y-you're cute and all, but I'm not interested in starting anything. Nothing. With anyone. Ever. No.” I was panicking. I knew that even then. But she looked me right in the eye, and said...
“Then I can wait.”
She handed me a napkin, Her number already noted down.
“Think about it, ma cheri. I'll be going... But do get in touch!”
an endless list of awesome books » the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins
↳ Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, "How do you bear it?"
Finnick looks at me in disbelief. "I don't, Katniss! Obviously, I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking."
Something in my expression stops him.
"Better not give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself together as it does to fall apart."
