𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎, 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗;
William's hair fell in golden ringlets over his slender shoulders. A perfectly fitted suit, entirely velveteen, covered a narrow body, and long, pointed black boots encased his feet. His features were striking - crystal blue eyes smeared with red shadow, a pointed, straight nose and full lips sat almost entirely symmetrically on his statuesque face. Even without his deathly pale skin, the man looked positively otherworldly.
His appearance drew near-constant onlookers. Agape stares and hushed whispers followed William wherever he went, yet, despite the attention, his existence was a solitary one.
Walking the barrier between worlds left William perpetually, agonisingly 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. Forever dancing a moonlight waltz between the living and the dead, William longed for both, and yet belonged to neither. He was cursed, instead, to exist in the in-between.
London, Paris, New Orleans; each city only housed a fresh wash of disappointment. Whilst he'd watch humanity with an almost child-like fondness by day, the night's activities razed his curiosity from the inside out.
Possessed by the kind of yearning only possible from a lifetime of denial, William would break into the living streets to feed on the unfortunate. Sinking pointed teeth into supple flesh, William would drink from the creatures he'd found so fascinating only hours prior, before dragging their drained corpses back to his arcane mirror-world.
There, after dropping the meaty sacks at the base of the sacrificial altar, William would observe the Grand Libations. His own chin still stained ruby with the rich honey of his feed, William would watch as the Ancient Ones tore flesh from bone in greedy handfuls, consuming and feasting upon the desecrated bodies until little more than paltry mulch remained.
Originally written and shared as part of Verbuary 2022: https://tinyurl.com/t7cbkhv2
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