No one had been burried in this cementary for decades, possibly centuries. That's what made this visit strange. There was a mortal--a living breathing human--amongst the low lying mist of the cemetary. Their footsteps fell quitely, though a blatant call to those keen to hearing. Demetrius held onto the broken pillar that remained of a cross with one hand, the rest of his body hung to the side of the tombstone. His eyes traced with hopeful promise on the human.

The smell of the human was distinct, and declared everything about her. The mortal was a female, as well young, and injured. The smell of fresh blood was in the air, and it was untainted by the encompassing epidermis of a potential victim. Demetrius would make this young ladies last night alive a living hell.

He shifted his weight around and slipped his arm off the pillar to propel himself into the air. He landed hard on the cobblestone walkway in front of the woman, grinning wide. The moon reflecting off his fangs, as well as off the smooth plain of his nose.

The woman screamed, turn and ran, only to trip and fall full frontal. Her breaths were squeezed in as she weakened from blood loss and the quick terror she was just struck with. She snapped her head back to look over her shoulder, the person was gone.

Demetrius had dropped into his mist form, congregating with the natural mist around, and drifted across the terrain, undetectable.

The woman brought herself to stand, a hand across a gash on her side that stained her white shirt red. She looked around frantically for a moment, and then calmed, attributing her delusion to her blood loss.

Demetrius reformed his solid state behind her, a whisper releasing from his lips but passing in the wind. He reached his hands forward, slid them across her cheeks with precise delicacy, then retracted them as the fearing woman snapped around to ensnare her persuer in her gaze.

She found nothing. The mist twisted in a gust of wind which howled with its presence but was beat out of her thought by the quick, irratic rhythm of her heart. She blinked a tired blink, exhaled relieved, and then turned back around.

Demetrius latched onto her face with his hands, forced her head to the side, and hissed a growl before he surged forward and plunged his fangs into her neck for a feed.

The echo of her scream faded into a gargle of pain before the final release of life occurred and all that was left was the sound of the ravaging of her body.

Alexandre awoke.

Far beneath the soil, in the cool dark of his crypt and even further into the satin closure of his coffin. His arms were wound, as habit demanded, about the smaller body of his sister. They always shared a coffin, never deeming to sleep alone unless impossible.

He closed his amber eyes again for a brief moment, relaxing until his senses rose to the top of his concentration. Fear... blood... human...

No living thing had ventured into the cemetery since the twin's arrival and now it appeared an unfortunate mortal (woman by the spice of the smell) was meeting with an unpleasant fate to secure the sanctity of their lair. But who was it above their heads that so messily defended their peace? He would, of course, rise and see.

Gentle movements, light stirring, a twist onto his side. The coffin wasn't all that large, but he managed to deposit Holly on the pillowing and slide out without waking her. He adjusted his clothing fastidiously and raked a quick set of fingers through his hair for good measure. Now... to get above...

He turned and wound a way through dank, cool, dark passages of forgotten tunnels. Water dripped from somewhere. An abandoned skull leered at him from a passage to his left. He continued walking until he found the dirt-hewn stairway upward. Into the bottom of a mausoleum and then out the doors that were supposed to be iron-locked. He breathed in the smell of fresh feeding and the night encompassing it.

Alexandre carefully picked his way down the weed-choked path and ventured out,

"Qu'est-il?"