LOG TWO
It was warm and bright and generally what Bartholomew would call a good day, that is, until a dear friend came ringing on his cell phone. Warning him of a homicidal vampire, unchained from the coven, ready to tear out his throat. Oh, pleasant.
First he was forced to give up his profession to please a girl. Now he was being hunted down, in his own apartment, because of a fucking race purity deal?
What. the. fuck.
Bartholomew neatly tucked his toothbrush under the sink, turning his gaze back to the mirror to make sure he was clean and tidy. That was his own face, but -
That person -
(No, thing -)
Behind him was - fuckshit
"Ethan!"
[log open to anyone and everyone.]
First he was forced to give up his profession to please a girl. Now he was being hunted down, in his own apartment, because of a fucking race purity deal?
What. the. fuck.
Bartholomew neatly tucked his toothbrush under the sink, turning his gaze back to the mirror to make sure he was clean and tidy. That was his own face, but -
That person -
(No, thing -)
Behind him was - fuckshit
"Ethan!"
[log open to anyone and everyone.]