Post by `Cynthia Gage on Apr 13, 2009 14:35:54 GMT -5
OOC: I'm not able to be SUPER HYPER ACTIVE so I encourage anyone who is able to RP to join this thread and see where it goes. Maybe we can get some interesting plots going!
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Cynthia stood, barefooted, on the shoreline. Nearly one hundred years ago, she had felt a great feeling of euphoria by sticking her toes in the Pacific Ocean. Now, however, it was old hat for her. She could do it any time she wanted--where was the fun in that? She had considered moving out East again, but knew that Quentin was probably still alive over there, still feeding. Even if she was in Florida, he would be too close. This was best--this was where Cynthia felt most secure.
It sure was getting dull, though.
She had almost broken her personal rule two nights ago; the rule she had made for herself after she had been turned. Never make a vampire. That was the goal. Drink, don't turn. Quentin hadn't been able to shoulder the responsibility and neither would she.
It was getting so boring, though, living life in complete solitary. The temptation to create a mate was overwhelming. She had had a lover in her human life--she couldn't even remember his name now, though. And she could remember the child in her belly. Even though she was not yet born and not even yet legally named, she still remembered it. Julie. Julie Gage--it had a ring to it, right?
Cynthia had come to terms with the fact that she'd never be a mother--in fact, her lack of a soul made her glad to never mother a little brat-child. The idea was romantic, but execution was idiotic. Parenting seemed fruitless. A mate, however, was a desire. And Cynthia had almost created herself one just two nights ago--just before she'd snapped his neck. She had been spending most of her time since then brooding over it. She had almost lost control. She was soulless, a creature of the night--but she still had her sense of self-control, damnit.
Smelling the air, she could smell many things at once. That too was a sensation that's luster had been long lost in the tides of time. Keen senses were cool, but she no longer really cared about them. She no longer walked around smelling things just because she could. It was a little depressing.
'I've been around for nearly a century,' Cynthia thought. 'There has to be more to life than this.'
"Ugh," She suddenly looked disgusted. "Am I seriously going through a mid-life crisis?"
Kicking some water with her foot, she retreated from the cool water, finding a log to brood on under the moonlight. Now more than ever, the urge to sit here during the daytime was overwhelming. Perhaps this was a mid-life crisis.
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Cynthia stood, barefooted, on the shoreline. Nearly one hundred years ago, she had felt a great feeling of euphoria by sticking her toes in the Pacific Ocean. Now, however, it was old hat for her. She could do it any time she wanted--where was the fun in that? She had considered moving out East again, but knew that Quentin was probably still alive over there, still feeding. Even if she was in Florida, he would be too close. This was best--this was where Cynthia felt most secure.
It sure was getting dull, though.
She had almost broken her personal rule two nights ago; the rule she had made for herself after she had been turned. Never make a vampire. That was the goal. Drink, don't turn. Quentin hadn't been able to shoulder the responsibility and neither would she.
It was getting so boring, though, living life in complete solitary. The temptation to create a mate was overwhelming. She had had a lover in her human life--she couldn't even remember his name now, though. And she could remember the child in her belly. Even though she was not yet born and not even yet legally named, she still remembered it. Julie. Julie Gage--it had a ring to it, right?
Cynthia had come to terms with the fact that she'd never be a mother--in fact, her lack of a soul made her glad to never mother a little brat-child. The idea was romantic, but execution was idiotic. Parenting seemed fruitless. A mate, however, was a desire. And Cynthia had almost created herself one just two nights ago--just before she'd snapped his neck. She had been spending most of her time since then brooding over it. She had almost lost control. She was soulless, a creature of the night--but she still had her sense of self-control, damnit.
Smelling the air, she could smell many things at once. That too was a sensation that's luster had been long lost in the tides of time. Keen senses were cool, but she no longer really cared about them. She no longer walked around smelling things just because she could. It was a little depressing.
'I've been around for nearly a century,' Cynthia thought. 'There has to be more to life than this.'
"Ugh," She suddenly looked disgusted. "Am I seriously going through a mid-life crisis?"
Kicking some water with her foot, she retreated from the cool water, finding a log to brood on under the moonlight. Now more than ever, the urge to sit here during the daytime was overwhelming. Perhaps this was a mid-life crisis.
