A...Drabble Before Sleep...

Darkness settles on the city as the sun sets and the moon's light becomes clear in the sky. The nightscape is one of her favorite sights. As most of the views of the city at night, she finds it breathtaking in the most beautiful of ways. Even in the parts of the city where the residents don't know sleep or are just waking from a day's slumber, she finds peace in it all. A mellow world that she wishes to take part in but feels on the boundaries of it all, day or night. The world isn't accepting of her kind, not that anyone knows who she is. They know the folklore, the legends, the fiction of it all, but few have yet to encounter and really experience the company of her kind.

Every single one of her limbs should be cold. It's the middle of winter and she's standing on a rooftop, looking down at the city. She isn't at all dressed for the occassion, and her hair is too short to really cover her ears or provide warmth for anywhere but her forehead. Raven locks, cut short but just long enough to run fingers through and even grab at the strands if desired. Her tattoos are clear, although not many, they seem to sparkle in the moonlight as it graces her skin. She's in nothing more than a dark gray tank top with black shorts, surprisingly short for her usual taste. Her feet are bare and the feel of the chilled gravel under her feet is nothing that she can't handle; it's also not something that she isn't already used to. The night is glorious and, closing her eyes, she loves it when it feels as though it's sinking into every single on of her pores.

"I thought I'd find you up here again."

Her head snaps around at the sudden voice although she isn't at all surprised at the face that greets her, although she'd feel much better if he didn't show. Her fangs draw free of their own free will, as if it's her body's instinct to do so in his presence. His expression shows that he's a bit taken aback but she knows as well as he does that he's used to this reaction by now, even if it does tend to startle him each time he sees it. Anyone would think by now that it's something that he should be used to.

"You're a very stupid human."

"Wouldn't be so stupid if you just turned me."

"Then you'd just be a stupid vampire. The only thing that would change is what your are. Not your thought process."

"That is really cold...and mean."

She looks apologetic but she doesn't apologize, simply turning around to gaze at the city again. The restless souls out and about and those that are on the clock. There are many that don't seem to sleep at this hour. It's just past midnight, she's sure. She's grown to be able to tell the time of day by the scent of the air, especially in the winter. The smell of fresh dew on a clear winter morning is the alarm of the sun and the birds. The moisture of a fog, mysterious yet transparent, is the blanket that the earth pulls back in the wee hours of the morning, greeting the sun itself.

His arms wrap around her waist and she brings her hands to his wrists to pry them off, and she definitely has more than enough power to do so. Yet, she doesn't even try, giving in before even making an attempt. Her quiet heart beats as it breaks, all at the same time, feeling as nothing more than a loud echo in her empty chest. Her body aches for him yet aches to be distant from him because she's terrified of him getting so close. The words that she doesn't speak, he seems to know what they are already. Or at least that's how it seemed once upon a time.

She remembers, easily recalls, all the times that she wanted to be first in his heart, in his eyes. His attention and affection called to her undead soul, calling to the sliver of light that still shimmered inside of her. That same light that's nothing more than a dull pulse. How can vampire even be barely alive?

The memories she tries to erase, to corrupt, because, if she doesn't, she'll carry them forever, and forever is all the time that she has.

He's not speaking this time, not anymore. He's gone so quiet and, suddenly, she feels weak all over, wanting to cling to him for support. It's useless, she knows. She's not going anywhere even though her legs feel as though they've become pure stone and yet feel like they're almost not even there all at the same time. She absolutely hates this. Why can't she be alone on the inside, instead of trapped in her thoughts and emotions?

Does a vampire really ever experience freedom when their life is an eternal contract?

She realizes now why it's so quiet. He's gone. Then again, he wasn't there to begin with.

She keeps returning to the same scene that her mind has for her. One of them anyway. They're all so similar though that it's begun to feel like the exact same one. He's always holding her, making jokes to lighten the mood. His voice resonating in her ears and ringing through every inch of her being, imprinting itself more and more into the very cells of her, inside and out.

The first tear of blood isn't surprising but it's when she feels the weight of them running over her cheeks, staining the gravel below her feet, that she awakens from her daze. How could she possibly miss him so much? How could she long for someone that was simply never meant to be hers? Why does her heart, that shouldn't even be racing, pound so much and long so much for him?

How can a love be so painful that even a vampire longs for eternal sleep, leaving them feeling as though they have nothing to live for and nothing to give?

It feels like centuries have gone by, but they're fresh wounds on her broken soul.