In the room a candle was burning. Otherwise, it all seemed lifeless and empty, the flame filling the small space with no resilience but with almost a strong will one might say, as if that little fire was really alive. At some point, it actually was. A delicate hand ran across the source of warmth, ending its flow of life abruptly as she put the support on the table and threw the bag on the bed, doing the same with herself. Lost in the sheets, finally embraced by comfortable sensations Annora opened her eyes to look at the ceiling. Never had she expected that she would end up in a place different from her family's house, and seeing her new room in only a dimly lit environment brought a smile to her lips. It was indeed an eerie sight, a latent feeling she had long ago lost, and was immensely surprised to regain it now. That was happiness, it was the ineffable pleasure in finding yourself in a new home. Even the scent within these walls possessed a familiar aura. Contrary to her race the woman pushed herself in a standing position with a striking elegance, the motion slow without appearing awkward. She found no purpose in abusing the inhuman speed. After all, what life would be like if we rushed things futilely?
With a song linting its way through her lips she began undressing, changing the dusty clothes to something more appropriate: a dark scarlet dress with no braces but only a simple ribbon tied around the neck to sustain it, automatically revealing the bare skin of her shoulders. On both of them there were two tattoos, resembling the skin of a dragon but painted more delicately to the extent they even brought a comparison to chains. Many tried to decipher the design, and all of them failed pathetically. Only Annora knew what the purpose of them was, and refused to betray that secret to anyone. Pulling a small part of her hair upward, catching it intricately around a turquoise pin with flowered patterns she turned on the light and opened the curtains, letting her personal place be illuminated at last. Her eyes affected by sun were now glowing a pale blue, the iris thinned until it seemed to belong to a feline rather than a woman. A faint smile was teasing the surface of her lips, her fangs slowly extending at a new acknowledgment. Hunger.
Not a fan of draining life out of people she walked to her luggage, pulling out a bottle of red wine mixed with blood. She had many of those. A man had gifted her a supply of this drink, one that would suffice for a year in order to stop her from killing anyone close to him. In fact, that intention was not in her mind, but as much as she despised him for believing such a thing she agreed with the terms, aware of the necessity of this trade on both sides. Careful not to lose control she stopped breathing for a few seconds in which she poured it into a crystal glass, and only then began taking small sips, enjoying the way the crimson liquid slid down her throat. Pale when she had entered, her skin caught now a normal coloring along with a slight reddish shade in her cheeks.
Where is the edge of your darkest emotions?
Why does it all survive
Where is the line of your deepest devotion?
Pray that it's still alive
