DWC Day1 - Silver, Darkness
{Reading Ambiance - Click Here} The sound of a growl was not a new sound by any means in Darkhaven. But this was no growl of one’s throat which echoed into the night, but that of an empty stomach. Of course to the locals, it was not the sound of the smaller Sin’dorei’s lack of food that they heard, but the warm and inviting pulse of his heart that still beat beneath his chest. He laid there well past midnight for yet another night at the foot of the Denathrius statue he had frequented ever since the night of the Sanguine Soiree. Darkhaven was filled with the presence of beings he’d been searching for all his short lived life. They called themselves cursed, but he genuinely never understood why anyone could think it such. For him, it was hope. “I wonder what it’s like to be tall like you.” He kicked the hoof of the statue he was leaning against. “For others to actually ‘see’ you.” He sighed and rubbed at his face getting tired again. A magical journal that had been hoovering over his head slowly came down to rest at his side, the pages open. He watched the streets fill with so many handsome and beautiful Lords and Ladies of the court, mingling with their kin and those who suffered from similar circumstances. The people who’d hired him these... Ashes of Al’ar were kind enough to let him come along once he got word. They even tolerated his rather LOUD excitement at getting to come to this fangtastic evening. His eyes were all a glitter once there, an evening of revelry, wine, and a band of his employers making had finally connected the dots within his shattered mind that they ALL had FANGS! He was at last surrounded by those who bore the curse of vampirism, his heart racing so fast he could hardly contain himself from making a fool of how elated he was to be there. Not one of them had a clue how long he’d been waiting to at last find one of them. And now, surrounded within a town FULL of them he could hardly believe his luck! One by one he made his way through the crowd, mostly sticking with those of his group but he was not at all shy about his hope, just the reason’s why. Ever since the young elf first was told about the beings of the dark he’d dreamed of meeting one. And later in life, he’d dreamt of becoming one once being told of the powers it gave some. And yet at the pinnacle of his most dreamt of moment in life, the young Sin’dorei was once more left alone and wanting. One by one they left, not one of them taking him seriously in his offer no matter how he exposed his neck to them or made clear he would give them full permission as a willing donor. It made no sense to him at all, he thought for certain at least ONE of them would be hungry. Was it because of the wine? Each of his fellow employees as he saw them for he was far too new to call them friends had each given him a look, a smile or a laugh at his antics. So when they parted for the night he turned to others till one by one the court was empty of all but him. Nights later now the pale moon above was already starting to show slivers of her light. He lay there against the giant statue of Denathrius, staring up at the Anima funneling into the vial he held in his stone hands and trying to make sense of everything. A loud groan as he adjusted himself, pulling the collar of his coat down to expose more of his neck as he rolled his head to the side. Another pained growl of his stomach was easy to ignore. He’d spent most his life in a fasted state due to lack of food so this really did not phase him. It wasn’t what he was hungry for anyway. “Did anyone take you seriously?” He asked the looming statue having no clue at all in his fragmented mind who he was even speaking too. “Noone ever really see’s me, but maybe if I was one of you they would.” He let his hand flop at his side hitting the stone without a care. “I could be all they wanted you know. I really could.” He stared hopeful up at the statue but knew he’d receive no answer. With a mild grunt he draped himself over the plated stone hoof of the statue letting his head roll far back. He watched as something flew by overhead, smirking at the flying rat. As a rat himself he was not at all uneasy nor disgusted by it. The rats scurrying about, the bats flying overhead. He found this place rather, perfect. Beautiful actually. But even here he was just left wanting for something to hold onto, to feel he belonged. Alas, it seemed his long lived dreams and desires to find himself a Vampyr lover and someone who might turn him were just another silly pipe dream of his. As the flying rat flew back to the statue he smiled up at it and started attempting to make little calls to it. Maybe bat calls would work, he hadn’t tried that yet. As tempting as that idea was, he knew the intelligent beings he had fanned over and dreamt of would not fall for such a trick. It seemed even to them the blood he had to offer was too foul and dirty for their taste. Afterall, noone liked a broken toy. Closing his eyes he laid there for another night. Certain that by now, he was just another rat to the people of Darkhaven skittering around the foot of a statue. With a flick of his wrist the journal that had been laying beside him disappeared as the pages closed. Another unfinished chapter in a book of many.
@daily-writing-challenge