Desreal: to the rogue; kurai

It seems that everyone is out for flesh and blood these days.

Including her.

She is your lurker, your hidden vampire of the night crippled in a church unable to feed with a cross hanging around her neck. She is restricted, but only by the natural essence in life. The fact she doesn’t need blood, but the metallic taste rubbing against the velvet of her lips, with the softest skin soaked.

But her memory burns, as it has burned, consumed by her fire. Which is her thought, all memory of Hypatia actually burning away her memories had faded with the fire, blazing. So for now she is the forgotten one, for now our Lurker lays dormant within her fire, her anger her hatred burning its fury inside her. Unable to break away as her fire spikes across her skin.

She is lost, she has forgotten what it is like to be here.

Perhaps, for all this is a good thing. The end of the bitter hag-mare. Or perhaps an even more violent more once the vampire is let from its so called cage.

But she watches him as her fire burns at her feet, hungry, aggressive, and much more alive then it should be. “So you’re the one Cyan is so obsessed about.“ She grumbles. But her words holding the same crack and sizzle as she speaks. But curiosity catches her as the metallic dragon speaks. And an eyebrow is raised as she coos into the trees. “I wouldn’t think you hoping to meet me could possibly be a good thing, seeing the things I’ve heard of you.“

But she doesn’t stand before him struck in the ribs with fear. Perhaps ignorance. Because Lebanon does not know fear, she does not feel its grip upon her. There is nothing, but the same empty pit of darkness as there always has been.

She watches him as her fire burns orange-yellow through her eyes.

She hears the massive beat of wings as her unnamed Vulture circles high above, touching the elements.

She smiles, but it is only the brim of the cruel and the cunning.

mc. lebanon
abomination;