Nov 1, 2014
"Cedro...I need to talk to you.."
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"Cedro...I need to talk to you.."
ѕαιηт νℓα∂ιмιя ┼ Celica AU
Angelica was walking through the corridors of Saint Vladimir's academy, her lesson had just ended and she was meeting up with her guardian, Cedro, to grab some lunch, or well, blood for her. She knew most guardians didn't exactly enjoy seeing the moroi feed, which was why they had a feeding room aside from the cafeteria.
She barely saw her guardian during school hours, the moroi and dhampirs had different lectures. The moroi practicing magic and studying moroi history, while the dhampirs practiced fighting skills, and of course the normal boring stuff.
A sigh escaped the brunette moroi's lips as she walked, looking out in the dark night. All lessons took place during the night hours, since the daylight hurt the moroi's eyes.
"Señor Zavala... To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"I'm so happy you're alr---what's wrong?"
"So you decided to show up after all, Mr.Zavala."
{New theme, Angelica's verse and relationship pages updated!}
ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄʀy ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ ║ᴄᴇʟɪᴄᴀ
It was dark evening in Girona, it was about a month since Angelica had been turned into a vampire. A month since she'd assumed to have committed suicide because she couldn't bear to be alone. The poor girl had had no family left, her parents both dead, her brother hanged. Who could possibly stand that?
She was now walking the streets, keeping in the shadows to not draw attention to herself. She was still new to this whole vampire thing, still had problems controlling her thirst. As she walked, she suddenly caught the sound of a familiar voice and she walked into an alley, walking through it when she saw him. Cedro, the only one in the village she could ever have considered a friend for such a long time.
Keeping in the shadows the house walls gave, she spoke softly "Cedro."
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
---Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets