08-13-2018, 05:58 AM
Catheryn is no stranger to love. She is, after all, very old, and has experienced many things in her time on this earth. It has, however, been very long since she'd last experienced love first-hand. She does not keep track of the years, it takes far more energy that she can be bothered to expend, so all Catheryn knows is that it has been quite a while. The sting of regret, unfortunately, never really fades; love might not be foreign, but betrayal is much too familiar for comfort.
If she'd bothered to count, Catheryn would know that it has been about a hundred years since she'd become a vampire, a hundred years since she'd last seen her former best friend. She's not cut up about it anymore, or so she says, but vampires live forever, and grudges can be held for twice as long as that. Catheryn will never understand the pain of leaving a loved one behind, but she is very well acquainted with being left. It has been very long, but she doubts she will ever forget.
Today, the scent of blood is what draws her out of the little alcove she's resting in. Catheryn stands slowly, tucking her book into her back pocket as she stretches, pale blue eyes flickering down the road in an attempt to spot who, or what, is bleeding all over her town. A distant silhouette is easily identifiable as Rialto, but as for the other three, they seem foreign.
A quick snap of her fingers has her disappearing from her current position and reappearing behind her friend, peering over Rialto's shoulder at Bo and Lirim on the ground, before turning her attention to Pip. Hmm, fortunate that a medic would be passing through the area at this exact moment in time, Catheryn cannot say that she would do the same for the injured fellow had she been first on the scene. Medicinal knowledge is not her forte, but more than that, she sees no point in saving someone she does not even know.
Still, she refrains from voicing her thoughts on the scent of blood, and doesn't make a crude remark about how Lirim could probably feed the whole vampire population of San Creado for an entire week, if they'd just left him to die. That would be unsavory, even for her. Instead, Catheryn hovers almost protectively behind Rialto, raising a single eyebrow at his offer to take the pain, even though she does not comment on it. "Leave yourself enough time to get home before sunrise," she says, the words very obviously directed toward their intended recipient. Here's to hoping that Rialto doesn't forget he's not entirely immune to the light of day.
If she'd bothered to count, Catheryn would know that it has been about a hundred years since she'd become a vampire, a hundred years since she'd last seen her former best friend. She's not cut up about it anymore, or so she says, but vampires live forever, and grudges can be held for twice as long as that. Catheryn will never understand the pain of leaving a loved one behind, but she is very well acquainted with being left. It has been very long, but she doubts she will ever forget.
Today, the scent of blood is what draws her out of the little alcove she's resting in. Catheryn stands slowly, tucking her book into her back pocket as she stretches, pale blue eyes flickering down the road in an attempt to spot who, or what, is bleeding all over her town. A distant silhouette is easily identifiable as Rialto, but as for the other three, they seem foreign.
A quick snap of her fingers has her disappearing from her current position and reappearing behind her friend, peering over Rialto's shoulder at Bo and Lirim on the ground, before turning her attention to Pip. Hmm, fortunate that a medic would be passing through the area at this exact moment in time, Catheryn cannot say that she would do the same for the injured fellow had she been first on the scene. Medicinal knowledge is not her forte, but more than that, she sees no point in saving someone she does not even know.
Still, she refrains from voicing her thoughts on the scent of blood, and doesn't make a crude remark about how Lirim could probably feed the whole vampire population of San Creado for an entire week, if they'd just left him to die. That would be unsavory, even for her. Instead, Catheryn hovers almost protectively behind Rialto, raising a single eyebrow at his offer to take the pain, even though she does not comment on it. "Leave yourself enough time to get home before sunrise," she says, the words very obviously directed toward their intended recipient. Here's to hoping that Rialto doesn't forget he's not entirely immune to the light of day.
[b][i]moon river, wider than a mile ･ﾟ✧