Writhing pain from hunger was no fun when you used to have it all. It felt like the claws of a dragon raking claws upon the tender insides of the vampire women as that intense sensation seemed to make her fold in upon herself from a hunger so strong. She couldn't successfully feed properly in weeks, far too long for a creature who could bathe in blood. Life as she knew it came to a screeching end the moment that vampire screwed with her emotions, made her love him like a love sick puppy. She could pinpoint that time and place so accurately, the moment something broke in her mind, unleashing the flood gates. She played it like a tormenting memory that only filled her with anger. Like a teenager plotting the end of an ex boyfriend, she had murder in her eyes.
It was better when she felt nothing, when all she lived for was to play her games, to get drunk off their fear and whatever emotions she sought after. Petra was a wavering creature, but her habits were all the same. But now, she couldn't quite even do that right. It was progressively getting worse, she could feel it over come her as suffocating guilt encumbered the once impressive huntress. Oh how the mighty have fallen from the throne of serpents.
The woman decided to take her revenge, tonight. Not even guilt could assuage her now. She dove head first into the fathomless deep of hatred, at least that was one emotion that had not been stripped from her.
Petra had once felt like a god and now she was reduced to the state of a starving rat. Her skin was pale and gaunt, paler than the usual pallor of a vampire. Her body seemed almost malnourished, withered and small, the once ethereal beauty was not even close to what she once was. Her powers sputtered and short circuited unpredictably. She was in total ruin. Apathy was slowly replaced with guilt, until she was submerged to a state in which she could no longer hunt or torment those that she viewed as food. Such ugly human emotions she had left behind so long ago.
So in that vengeful spire she hunted the man who did this to her. The man who reduced her into nothing but a broken rusty hinge. She would make him reverse it before she let her illusions pay him a visit. It took creative means to find the address of the vampire incubus. He would seem to be quite the elusive beast. But not elusive enough.
All she wanted was blood, all she wanted was her old life back and she didn't care whatever means she had to make it possible. She couldn't exist this way, a broken feeling animal who could not eat. She couldn't spend another moment as a pale pigment of her once vibrant former glory.
That is how she ended up within his home, she hardly remembered how she had gotten there or how she lurched herself over that wrought iron fence or avoided those guards. Only that when became lucid enough, she winded up in the barn. A sound of raging whispers flooded her mind and the sound of happily munching horses. She tipped her head in a peculiar way toward the soft snorting sound of a horse whose head hung out from her stall. The mare's eyes were soft, innocent in a way the vampire women never possessed, she seemed to look right at her, inquisitive. She remembered loving horses when she was alive, especially so as a girl. She remembered all the time she spent amongst the chickens and horses, the barn was her sanctuary. It had all seemed such a fuzzy distant memory, fragmented like a shattered mirror, the pieces strewn across time haphazardly and augmented by the monster she was.. or is.. she didn't know anymore. Her heart was once so dark and vile from time, but now.. she wasn't so sure. She was lost. So lost. And hungry.
She moved toward the horse so painfully slow in a disjointed way, as though her bones clicked and snapped back into place. She seemed like a sorry creature from a dark fairytale. Pitiful. But it would seem the sweet mare beside her seemed to take pity on her, seemed to offer her comfort in a world made of needles. Petra seemed fascinated by the grey mare, a strange fascination she could not understand.. She forgot why she was here in the first place as she let her slender fingers run along the soft, slick fur of the horse. So warm, so sweet. It reminded her of something, something so distant she couldn't quite grasp it. The woman was lost in a gentle daze, feeling its lifeforce. Its heartbeat thrumming through her fingertips as though she could feel it somewhere deep within her chest. She pressed her cheek against her neck, relishing in that warmth she did not possess, she closed her eyes before muttering. "Pretty little pony.." She whispered into her neck.
That was until she heard the soft falling of encroaching footsteps ruining that feeling. Her eyes shot open as she lets her hands ensnare within the silken mane of the mare. She clings to this reality as though she were a helium balloon and she would surely drift further and further into the sky with no tether to ground her. That mane was that much needed tether. She drew in a deep breath of that distant familiar scent of shavings and distinctly horse and the smell of that approaching form. She bared her fangs in a less than friendly manner, that scent was one that she, one that she liked... no, one that she hated.