News From Poughkeepsie – Day 122

Vampires work like this…

No one would burst into flame when the sun comes up. That’s ridiculous. The sun, as it always has been, is an illuminator, a life-giver. And vampires have plenty of reason to avoid the sun, as the light of it’s rays reveal a harsher truth than even fire: in the light of the sun, a vampire looks–and feels–its true age.

And so Immithalia hobbles through her days, a rag and bone woman who can barely walk, caring for her sister, whose appearence in bed approaches skeletal. Her neighbors smile at her as she putters with her gerainiums, and laugh as she nakes jokes about how hard things were “in the old country.” She’s just an old woman, after all.

Immithalia waits for the night, waits for the darkness to reveal her beauty, her savagery. And then she and her sister, her sire, her lover, join hands and hunt for the vitality of youth…