Race: Vampiric Changeling
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
You see Sparkle, a Changeling Warlock.
Dull, lifeless, void-like eyes offer no reflection across their matte surface, making it impossible to see one’s self within them. Dusky-hued, violaceous strands of short, unkempt locks fall over her face in a somewhat haphazard arrangement, casting some shadow on her already waxy, cinereal skin.
Crafted from material the tone of a starless night, a slightly over-sized cloak hangs from her shoulders, ticked through with ethereal stands, which lend it a bit of a shadowy quality, as they seem to draw in surrounding light.
Armor just as droll hides under the surface, fashioned from some type of leather or another, oddly plain aside from a multitude of impressions over the heart, though they are difficult to make out against the aged surface. This too, has been dyed pitch, leaving it to appear rather uneventful.
Let’s face it, not even angels are perfect.
Rain patterned down, leaving dull thunking sounds in its wake. It never was my favorite. The concept of itself and what it represented – in essence it was the lifeblood of the world; water, that is. I could feel the scrunch forming in my nose as my thoughts drifted. It was enough of a distraction to draw me back to reality.
Dull, ethereal fabric brushed my face as I drew my hood, the color of which seemed dark enough that it sucked in the surrounding light. Not that there was much of it at this hour. A few quick strides, and some careful puddle stepping carried me from my shadow and into the dull glow of the tavern’s windows. My nose scrunched more as I pushed through the door. I forced my face to be still.
Patrons were, thankfully, few this late. The weather did help, at least it was good for something. The lack of folk made it all too easy to find my contact. Brow arched, I slipped into a seat opposite.
“I see you found the place,” he commented in a chipper tone. My features fell flat.
“What’s the matter, lass? Cat got your tongue?”
I noticeably cringed, my fists balling under the table. Gaze narrowed, I questioned, “Do you have it, or not?”
My companion opened his mouth to reply, and as soon as the breath left his lips as he began to utter the words – those words that would keep me from my goals. Those words that would stunt my progress. Those words. The lies I was told in order to get me here…
The next few moments were a blur. Shadows, fire so dark that it would be believable to be construed from the dark of the heavens themselves, and the blood. Lots of it.
Pulling my cloak to conceal more of my face I watched the building burn from across the street, safely in the shadows, nose scrunched. It was a trap. It must have been. That was the only explanation. There couldn’t possibly have been such failure otherwise.
A quick turn on my heel, and the scene was nothing more than a distant memory.
It’s driven me before, and it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal.
The ache. At times it’s almost unbearable. The darkness, it’s overwhelming. There is no light at the end of this tunnel. Not anymore. Maybe there never was… it’s been so long now, the old memories are vague, brief glimpses at best.
There may have been happiness at one point. I can’t remember what it’s like, or what’s it’s like to smile aside from obligation. To fit in. To mask. To hide.
Burning in my fingertips, the way the magic surges through me. Yearning to be release. Demanding. The desires become more and more complicated. Harder to fight.
Consumed. The thoughts, they’re getting to the point I can’t ignore. The fire is engulfing me, and it’s impossible to put out. A thirst I can’t quench.
The bite marks will always been there. A grim reminder of my past, of my taint now. A wound that I can never heal. That no magic can.
They think they’re safe. They’re not. It’s only a matter of time, and I have all of the time in the world.
At least I can soothe it, though the path it is dragging me down is nothing more than a dark wood full of monsters. Such is my fate. Such is what I deserve.
I will find them. They won’t find them. There won’t be any left. Dust. Figments. Nothing more.
I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel… I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real.
Warm breezes caused the leaves to dance, frolicking among the trees. The heat of the sun bathed down against my skin. The last few days of autumn, the ones before the chill crept into the air, we’re always the best.
So full of hope and promise. The upcoming death and rebirth of the landscape, the new, the beginnings.
I watched them play off in the distance, playing games of tag and chase, winding ribbons among the trees, tying witch balls in their branches. Their lyrical laughs filled the air. Happiness. It was a serene moment. Perfection, even. Of course it couldn’t last.
I didn’t even have time to react, and even if I did, what could I have done? Nothing. I wasn’t any sort of a fighter or spell caster. I wasn’t trained with a weapon.
Too fast. It was too fast. The clearing was ash. There was nothing left. No leaves, no trees, no sun. Only darkness.