Drops were falling on his face in uneven measures and intervals as he lay facing the canopy of trees beneath a stormy sky. Damien was soaked to the bone, his jeans full of dirt, sand and water, and his shoes were faring no better, really. The sloshing had yet to annoy him as much as his t-shirt had-- which was now almost suctioned to his chest with water. He was freezing and the water was stinging his eyes as it fell into them.
And for the first time in a long time --how long, he could never tell anymore, not after so many years -- he felt so utterly human. His eyes were blurred and the cold was getting annoying. Yet the inconsistency of the falling rain through the treetops and the ebbing and flowing scent of the sea nearby made him feel calm, despite an inner restlessness which had driven away from his beloved, city grime.
And, really, the only thing that kept him grounded, kept him from believing that he were actually eighteen again was the rain that hit the pendent of his maker, Isabella, on his chest lying on top of the wet, navy blue t-shirt he sported this night.
Isabella, he breathed without words. Where are you, my Dearest? He knew the answer already. He had watched her die, felt her die, heard her die. But where was she? It had been a while since he had caught any kind of feeling from her. Her spirit, he thought as if correcting himself. It was a helpless feeling, an anxious one. Almost a thousand years, Love. Where are you already?
He never thought that he\'d ever live this long. Period. Even while he was a vampire, the thought of meeting immortal death had been ever present. It had caught up with her, hadn\'t it? But he, like Isabella, had watched kingdoms rise and fall including that of his own home nation. But he couldn\'t remember the mortal name for it now.
Damien put his arms behind his head as he layed on the mossy rock on the edge of a small wood. But no matter which way he turned, he couldn\'t get comfortable on such a bumpy rock. It had ridges, humps and bumps, and aggrivations galore. But, then again, the longer that you\'re a vampire, the more sick and tired you get of staying in one spot or one position for a long enough period of time. At least that\'s what he had found, anyway.
The vampire turned over onto his side, facing the sea. There was a girl there, he knew. He had seen her standing there when he had first come. Long black hair and dark clothing with a nice frame which looked awfully familiar from this distance, but he really had no intensions of pointing himself out to her, not wanting to deal with any mortals for them moment.
Sighing, Damien fiddled with the pendent around his neck, thinking about his Master and her words. He could still see her getting dragged away from him, could feel his arm reaching out for hers and receiving nothing but a slap in the face from a human. Damien closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. What the hell could she have meant?
The eyes open after a moment and stared at the girl by the cliffs. He wondered if she were there to jump. So many had been and for a moment he was only half interested in her. And then he caught a glimpse of her face. Damien sat up quickly. No, it couldn\'t be, he thought in disbelief. His throat suddenly ran dry as his heart jumped up into it. Lucretia?
