OOM: Feeding the Vampire
Damian sits in the room he shares with Nathaniel, Micah, and Anita.
Well... not Anita anymore. His mistress has gone back to St. Louis, and while it is a relief in some ways, it has also put this redheaded vampire in a state of carefully controlled panic. Without Anita here, he isn't sure he will wake at the next sundown. It is an unusual, fearful state to be in, waiting for the dawn and not knowing if the death will be permanent this time.
Anita's departure has had Damian's mind so preoccupied that he has neglected to feed for the second night in a row. He had fed from Jason, and then from Liz, and their blood had kept his thirst satisfied throughout the previous night... but he has waited too long tonight. The bloodlust is rising, an insistent and nagging ache in his cold, bloodless body.
Running a hand through his hair, he pulls on a pair of slacks and a pale green dress shirt. He had finally asked Bar for a couple outfits that are more formal than the jeans and t-shirts that Nathaniel had provided him. Draping the green fabric over his shoulders without buttoning it closed, he sits on the edge of the bed, looking over the donor list and contemplating who to contact.
Well... not Anita anymore. His mistress has gone back to St. Louis, and while it is a relief in some ways, it has also put this redheaded vampire in a state of carefully controlled panic. Without Anita here, he isn't sure he will wake at the next sundown. It is an unusual, fearful state to be in, waiting for the dawn and not knowing if the death will be permanent this time.
Anita's departure has had Damian's mind so preoccupied that he has neglected to feed for the second night in a row. He had fed from Jason, and then from Liz, and their blood had kept his thirst satisfied throughout the previous night... but he has waited too long tonight. The bloodlust is rising, an insistent and nagging ache in his cold, bloodless body.
Running a hand through his hair, he pulls on a pair of slacks and a pale green dress shirt. He had finally asked Bar for a couple outfits that are more formal than the jeans and t-shirts that Nathaniel had provided him. Draping the green fabric over his shoulders without buttoning it closed, he sits on the edge of the bed, looking over the donor list and contemplating who to contact.