@pourprefanee
A grunt of frustration rolled from his throat when his stubborn hood slipped off once more, baring him to the mercy of the midday sun. He grasped the fabric and pulled it over his head again, and did not let go as his tawny eyes darted between the trees. The wetlands of Haafingar lacked their typical haze that day - much to the vampire’s frustration. His luck had been particularly rotten, as of late; he considered curling up inside the nearest cave, and would perhaps seek out the nearest farmstead, come nightfall.
Life outside Castle Volkihar was far more complicated than he originally envisioned. He had grown far too used to feeding whenever he saw fit. Now, he had to worry about his meal fighting back and potentially gutting him, as well as experiencing the horror that was direct sunlight. These mortals. How do they live like this?
He shook his head to dispel the thought of his entire family laughing, saying we told you so as he dragged his starving body up the castle stairs. No; he would prove them wrong. Skyrim offered him so much more than his home ever had. He was certain of it. Even if its cuisine was rather... inconvenient.
He nearly jumped at the sound of rustling foliage, and instead of the unwelcome sight of a bear or mercenary, he spotted a familiar head of ashen curls. “Bianca?” he called, and immediately bit his tongue. She could not see him like this, pale and weak, eyes a suspicious shade of gold. How would she react? Ansel, you blighted fool.
