The night after meeting Sir Olaf and reporting back to Calhoun, you begin searching for the Lasombra fledgling. Night after night, you keep an eye and ear out for any sign of vampiric activity. Eventually, you hear that some of the homeless who live on the southernmost section of Lake Shore Drive have been experiencing nausea and other symptoms of blood loss.
From there, it doesn't take much longer for you to find the culprit - a short, stout Kindred who appears to be in her early twenties. Her pallor is deathly gray, and her long, straight black hair falls to the middle of her back. The fledgling vampire's blouse and skirt are dirty, worn, and torn from rough living on the streets with no access to laundry facilities.
You watch from your hiding place among the shadows as she kneels next to a sleeping man dressed in rags before lowering herself even further to sink her fangs into his throat. The man jerks for a moment before the pleasure of the Kiss overtakes him, and you take the opportunity to ready your smartphone camera as the fledgling begins to feed.
The fledgling's image glitches in and out of view as you record her. Sometimes, she's there. Other times, there are two of her. Occasionally, she disappears completely from view. She's a Magister, alright.
You put away your phone and quietly step forth as she finishes licking the puncture wounds on her meal's neck shut. The fledgling jerks her head up at the sound of you clearing your throat, and she freezes upon seeing you. Before she can awkwardly scramble to her feet and make a run for it, you open your mouth wide and extend your fangs. You allow her to take a good look at your canines before shutting your mouth and pressing a finger to your lips.
The fledgling nods, a little unsure, and you gesture for her to get up and come with you as quietly as she can. Fortunately, she complies, and the two of you walk in the same direction with a few feet of distance between you. Each step you and the fledgling take is slow, measured, and deliberate. Neither of you wants to be the first to start running.
Eventually, the two of you find a park bench, and a quick look around confirms that you are alone. You are the first to take a seat, and you silently gesture for the fledgling to do the same. She carefully positions herself on the other side of the bench as if she's afraid the wooden planks would explode into shrapnel beneath her rear.
Finally, you extend your hand out to the fledgling. "My name is Arturo. What's yours?"
The fledgling stares at your hand as though it might turn into a hungry viper. Then the young woman reaches out and grasps it. "Celia."
"It's nice to meet you, Celia," you say, noting the expression on her face. It's guarded and frightened but also curious and hopeful. Celia is a woman who's desperate for answers. "I'm glad we met tonight. If you have any questions, I'll try to answer them as best I can."
Celia purses her lips, her mind no doubt sorting through dozens of questions. Finally, she settles on one. "Am I… Are we actually, you know, vampires?"
"Yes," you say. "However, we prefer the term Kindred."
"Kindred," Celia repeats, tasting the word on her tongue. "There are more like us here in the city?"
"Yes, dozens. Remember the first rule of Fight Club?"
Celia nods. "We Kindred call it the First Tradition: the Masquerade. No one can ever find out what we truly are. Have you told anyone?"
Celia shakes her head. "I haven't been able to get in touch with anyone since I became this."
"Good. The less your loved ones know, the safer they'll be. Upholding the Masquerade is our number one priority as Kindred. If humanity ever finds out the truth, we're screwed. All it takes is just one YouTube video going viral for the whole house of cards to come crashing down on our heads. Do you understand?"
Celia nods. Your voice shifts to a calmer tone as you continue. "We refer to the change you've recently undergone as the Embrace. Do you know who your sire is? The Kindred who turned you into one of us?"
"No," Celia says, biting her lip. "One night, I was preparing to transfer from the Blue Line, and the next, I-"
Celia takes a deep, shuddering breath, but it isn't enough to stem the flow of vitae from her eyes. First, it's a trickle, then a torrent as she breaks down sobbing. She begins wiping away her tears, only to stop once she realizes it's not water running down her cheeks. "W-What?"
Alright, time to rip the metaphorical Band-Aid off. "There's no easy way to put this, but you're dead. The reason why your skin is so ashen is that you are essentially a walking corpse. The only fluid in your body right now is blood, which is why your tears are the way they are."
Celia sniffles as she finishes wiping away the blood on her face. Her voice is shaky as she speaks. "Is there a way to… go back?"
"To being human?"
Celia nods. "Yeah. Is there?"
You hesitate upon seeing the look in her eyes, but false hope never did any good. "None that I know work. Searches for a cure to our condition have gone on for as long as we've been a thing."
Celia's face falls, and she lowers her head to stare at the dried blood on her hands. After a long silence, her voice comes out again, barely louder than a whisper. "Is there… any upside to all of this? Will things ever get better for me?"
[] [Opinion] "The first few nights are the toughest, but you come to peace with it eventually."
[] [Opinion] "There's a lot you can do when you have eternal youth and immortality."
[] [Opinion] "It's all about the blood. The pleasure of the Kiss alone is enough reason."
[] [Opinion] "Not really, but adaptability is the name of the game here."
Do you wish to say anything else or pose another question to Celia?
[] [Celia] Write-in.
