An unsteady hand found its way onto a railing, leading down a series of stairs, that were little better than the feeble grasp that now kept a deathly tight grip to ensure the balance of its owner. He could hear them all around him, screams of pain and agony, mixed with the seductive call of voices that had no bodies. They didn't even exist, not outside of his mind. These were worse than the visions that controlled every aspect of his life on a day to day basis, at least he could see those... could try and fight them with blood shot eyes.

It was not until military style, black leather boots struck the cement outside and dingy streetlights took away some of the darkness that they faded away, but only to a degree. Wringing his hands and glancing around dark eyes darted one way and then the other, not a soul in sight. Just as well for the former college stand out as he stabbed both hands into the pockets of the calf length brown coat he wore.

Blake held no idea of where he was going this night, he was just running away again. Trying to get away from his curse, but he did not know it was truly a gift. No, within his mind there was only the belief he was insane. He had to be, right? He saw things no mortal man was ever meant to see, heard things that were not there. Logic, science, nothing could explain what was happening to him, no medicine, no matter how potent, had even touched his "condition". Had he known he was a seer, perhaps he would find it all a little less... disturbing? Unlikely, he believed in no god, much less such a thing as prophecy or magic.

Even as he walked he argued with the voices in his brain, kept trying to tell him which way to go. Saying maybe he could help them, but all he wanted was for them to help him by going away. By a quarter-mile through the dark night his voice rose up to nearly shouting, those hands locked away within his coat were now flailing about as to add to his eccentric words, most of which made little sense at all since they were mostly random phrases linked together as differant voices jumped in front of others. He was already near enough gone he did not notice the occasional stare, nor the people sliding into doorways or alleys to entirely avoid him.

((Post coming as soon as I either remember who I'm supposed to use, or pick which charrie to use :D))

There may not have been a soul in sight as far as the mortal's eyes were concerned, but there very much was another out tonight. And watching him. There was someone who was out and had been melded with the shadows. Out hunting to be exact. When her attention had been caught by this mortal man. Eyes watched him from the shadows as he moved along. Small form meld with the shadows as she moved along to follow him. She ignored the very few others that were out and moving to avoid him. Her attention was entirely upon this man. She was hungry. He was to be her first meal of the night.

Vampire speed moved her quickly ahead of him a ways. There was enough time for her to come out of the shadows and crouch down against one of the buildings before he would end up coming upon her. This was perfect. He would surely be an easy target for the child of the night. Oh yes. Indeed. And, my what a vicious little killer she really is under all that cute childness.

She is wearing a dark red satin and lace dress with dark red Mary Jane shoes upon her feet. A matching satin ribbon tied in her curly golden locks that surround her lovely doll-like face. She crouches down and wraps her small arms around her little knees. Head lowers slightly towards them. And she begins to sob. Who can resist a child crying in the night? Perhaps the child is lost and needs help finding her way.

His steps echoed down the street and finally the words he mumbled, sometimes yelled, and at times barely groaned out, were fading away and leaving behind some semblence of sanity. A sanity that moaned deeply in displeasure at the sound of tears as they came to ears, at first he thought they were starting again, so very soon. But, when he looked around he saw far worse than that, a child weaping in the flesh. Or at least he thought it was the flesh, no, it had to be. No one had touched him today, nothing like that had happened in a longtime. But, her appearence struck him as something out of a horror movie, ha! Now, that had to be his imagination.

It was such an absurd thought he pushed it down and came closer to her, but not too close. No, no, no, not too close... he'd dare not let anyone touch him right now. He still felt too-- unstable. "Is, is something wrong?" His voice was a reluctant to speak as her tears were fake, of course he did not know that. How could he? Tell future of others, perhaps, but never himself.

She could hear him coming. She could hear each step he took. Even over anyone else that happened to be moving about. She was like that though. Find one person to focus on and she could hear every movement they made. It had taken years of practice but her Dark Father had taught her well. Oh how she loves to hunt. Such a vicious killer the child is.

He's closer now. She can feel his eyes upon her. Yes. That's a good mortal. Come closer. That's fine. Don't touch her right now anyway. Her skin is far too cold for her to allow anyone to touch her right now. Her golden curls have settled in a way that keeps her face completely shadowed. That's a good thing though. We can't have him seeing how terribly pale her skin looks at the moment. Like a porcelain doll. Until she feeds.

"I... I'm lost..." she whimpers through her fake sobs. "I... can't find my way... and... I... I'm hungry..." Awww... Pity the poor scared child. She looks to be only about eight years old.

A nice guy? Eh, not really. It showed through fairly well when his shoulders gave a half-dead shrug, "welcome to the wagon, kid." He reach back into his pocket, in his mind he was going to give her a little cash to find something to eat with... but, heh, if he had any he wouldn't be in the same boat, would he? A dry smile slid over his lips as he took a step forward, partially moving past her, but he stopped and folded his arms over his chest. "So, where did you run away from?" That was what he figured, why else would she be out here.

Strange. This was not the way her hunts went. This was not something that had happened to her before. Not in the one hundred nighty eight years of being what she is. She was quite taken aback by his words but she did not show it on the outside. Oh no indeed. She was quite skilled in keeping her own surprise well hidden and such.

Crud. No. He can't walk away. Her hunts have never gone like this. She shook her head ever so slightly. "I... I didn't..." she stammers through her continued fake sobs. "I... didn't run away..." Of course not. She answers to absolutely no one. "I... got lost..."

A smirk as dark as her illbegotten heart slid over his lips, "or perhaps they threw you away?" What a thing to say! But, he was past caring anymore. He had lost his life when those damn visions over came everything that was important and now it seemed a chance to share his misery, if only for a little while. He figured she would brake and run, go cry some more, somewhere else for some other fool. "You know people do that, especially parents when they tire of putting up with someone." Blake was bitter and that showed in his voice as he spoke down to her, heh, how was he to know she was much more than he could ever dream? Not worse than some of the things he had seen in his visions, but certainly far worse than anything he would expect from-- a child.

Oh no he didn't just say that. He has no idea just how close to home that actually really hit for her. It very much struck a tender nerve with the child. She didn't show it though. No. She never shows it. Anger is slowly rising in the child. An unseen anger. Unseen by the mortal eyes around her.

"No..." she objected softly through her sobs. "My... my Father would never just leave me..." There's so much more to those words than he even knows. Or that he'll ever know. "He loves me..." Sob.

"You just keep telling yourself that, kid. Hopefully you'll believe for-- well, for a little longer anyway." He was walking away now, though at a fairly slow pace so he could toss in any other comment that may come mind, well unless she was to run away, which he doubted. Nah, she'd probably sit there and cry some more. At least until some other sucker came along, maybe this one would at least have a couple dollars for her. One finally did come as he stopped and half-turned to look at the 'living' doll, "a daddy's girl... how sweet. Must have been on hell of a pain for him."

Her eyes narrowed into angry slits even though he couldn't see them as of yet since she was still keeping her head lowered enough that her golden curls hide her face. This guy was seriously pissing her off. Ever seen a pissed off vampire? It's not a pretty sight. Ever seen a two hundred and five year old pissed off vampire? It's even less of a pretty sight. How about a pissed off two hundred and five year old trapped in the body of an eight year old child? Now that is a sight not many get to see and it's even less of a pretty sight.

A very quick flash of her eyes was given to the mortal that had stopped as the one that she'd chosen to be her first meal was walking slowly away. At the sight of her angry eyes, the woman who had stopped turned and hurried away. Good woman. Perhaps you can become another victim for the child later in the night. Yes. This child feeds upon two or three mortals a night. Her hunger is that strong.

"Take it back..." she says finally. She's holding back the rising anger from her voice. It'll still sound like she's nothing more than a scared and crying child. The Irish accent in her voice was growing thicker, however, as she grew more upset. She would so completely enjoy draining this fool.

"Or what?" He asked, nearly laughing at her demand. "you'll cry some more, maybe?" Perking his brow Blake took a couple of steps toward the tiny vampire. "May as well accept it, you're alone and nobody cares. Go find an orphange somewhere." Folding his arms he made an exhagurated motion as he rolled his eyes.

"Now," he started as he turned away, once more. "If you'll excuse me, I'm starving." After those words he started off, arms folded, and his pace picking up to a fast walk almost immediately.

Silly mortal. Turning your back on a vampire after you've angered it is not a good idea. Not a good idea at all. Of course, he doesn't know that she is a vampire though. The fool.

She is up onto her feet and behind him nearly instantly. A mere mortal wouldn't have even seen her move from one place to the next. All they would know was that she was first in one place and then another.

Tiny feet shove her from the ground and she clings to his back. Oh look Blake. She's touching you. "I, too, am starving," comes a vicious sounding voice in his ear.

Her world filtered into his mind, but barely registered. Images, likely of her future... but possibly of the vampire's past, raged through his mind's eye. All of them too fast to really grasp, and a cold sweat enveloped him. Whatever it was she had said carried little meaning, it wasn't until visions came a screeching halt, and his knees gave out, that alarm sounded through the haze.

It had only been a mere moment, a few beats of his racing heart, but felt like an eternity. One he responded to by swinging a strong arm backwards, trying to snag hold of the little beast. Thats what she had to be, upon him so quickly and claiming the need to for food. The only words to respond to this action, which is feeble and likely to wait are a low growl of words: "get off!"

His arm is easily avoided by the abnormally strong child. Not just a child. A vampire child. A two hundred and five year old vampire child that has perfected the art of killing in her mind. Such a vicious little killer this one is. And oh how she enjoys it. Usually she enjoys to toy with her meals. However, this one has angered her. She's in no mood to toy with him in the least.

"Not a chance fool," she hissed into his other ear. Her fangs have already dropped. And within seconds, she sinks them into the side of his neck. She drinks fiercly from the man.

Blake collapsed and gasped for air that did not want to come, he continued to try and get her off his back. But, it was pointless, fruitless, and eventually stopped trying when his vision began fading out and breath was shallow to nil. But, it couldn't really be that bad, could it? At least in death there would be no more visions.

(arg, very short I know. Just did not want to leave this unfinished.)