Why didn't she run? The red eyed vampire wonders. The pale boy with locks of ebony doesn't understand why she sits there and waits. What could she possibly be waiting for? He thinks for a moment that perhaps she too is waiting for her prey, but Cobain knows that the scent of her is entirely fae. But what did a fae want with humans? Didn't they normally stick to their own kind? Still, seeing a fae out and about was rare, and the vampire feels his throat burn with thirst as red eyes grow hungrier.

She was so carefree dancing around, she was asking for herself to be injured, killed, reduced to nothing but a bloodless body laying cold on the ground. Those deep red eyes never leave the blonde fae creature. And within those same ruby eyes, never does the hunger leave either. The pale vampire stares at her for a moment and he finds her beautiful, which he has to admit he did not expect. He expected to be able to brush her off like anyone else... but he's never really met a girl, before, unless you count Risque. He looks her over with those red eyes of his. The fact that she is so beautiful causes his heart to ache angrily, but he swallows that and adjusts the way he stands, tilting his pale face angrily in her direction. She is beautiful yes, but that doesn't mean he has to be nice to her. She smells of fear and it sickens him yet at the same time sends a searing want into his veins and like a fire it spreads, urging each vile thought of mutilation in his brain, he is a warped creature, this demon of hell, and he will hurt her until she screams, and only then will he be satisfied. He had already decided that by the time he had reached side and when she turns around to look at him, he knows it is the right decision.

She sounds so innocent with that word tumbling from her pale lips. She sounds so sweet, backing up she is scared of him and Cobain feels the power from it seep into his veins. It is enough to almost make him laugh. Indeed it does in fact, although brief, it crashes from his lips like falling rocks hard and sharp, ear splitting and dangerous. He doesn't believe that she's empty, not yet, when he was done with her, she'd know what being broken was, physically and mentally. He wants to bite her, because it is the way he gains his power, he wants to savor the taste of her on his tongue, the feeling of her skin on his lips and know the satisfying feeling of his fangs sinking into her tender, pale flesh. She would scream, push him away, dislodge him from her neck, but he would gather what he needed. He could bring down the shaking walls of her perfect world.

And yet, he does nothing.

Her smile, he wonders, vaguely, if she is trying to seduce him. But, of course, he wouldn't imagine anyone would try that. He is beyond seducing. Cobain is a walking chastity belt. "You smile so freely," he says, feeling his own lips tense against his teeth. "So different from humans battered down by sorrows," he says to the fae girl. His hand touches her arm, sliding down that pale flesh, enjoying the warmth beneath his hand, and the way her soft skin feels against his own. She moves away, putting distance between them once more and a scowl crosses his face. She did not enjoy his presence or his touch it would seem. Funny she says, he talks funny. "You find the truth funny?" He asks her. "Perhaps," he adds with a shrug. Not everyone could accept what the world really and truly was.

Sad. Sad. Cobain sad. How dare she speak such things. Cobain has not known sadness in over a century, it left him so long ago, leaving only contempt, anger, and hatred within its wake. He wants to kill her then, for saying such untrue things. Kill her, leaving her body drained of blood and dead upon the ground. Then she speaks of friends, as if Cobain could grasp the concept. The boy didn't have friends even when he had been alive. Always the outcast of his siblings, even the other children of the village knew he was bastard son of the town whore. The closest thing Cobain had to a friend was Risque, and that was more equivalent to a dictatorship, or a cat and her mouse.

Her happiness burns a fire through him and all he wants more than anything is to snuff her out until she was simply just cold smoke and smoldering ash. "I have never wished for friends," he says with that darkness in his voice. Her heart beat thrums in his ears, its quickening pace and he is satisfied he can cause this in another. "Your fear makes me smile," he says and even then his lips only twitch into a hellish grin before falling back to that stoic straight line upon his mouth. It is then he grabs her, reaching out the quickness of his kind, as he pulls her pale, dainty body towards his own, holding fast onto her arm as he tilts his head downward, mouth and nose burying themselves into the curve of her neck and shoulder. Oh he wants to do it, the scent he breathes in of her skin, of her being, he wants her so badly. "I could kill you, if I wanted to," he coos softly into her pale flesh, speaking the words as if he were a parent comforting a frightened child. He inhales her scent one last time as lips twitch, those fangs wanting to rip into her before he drags himself away painfully, putting distance between the pair once more, pushing her backwards away from him. "You are foolish," he practically hisses, staring at her with those ruby red eyes. "You prance around the woods as if you are some sort of untouchable creature," and for once Cobain's voice is not so monotone, but he finds himself growing angry with the fae girl. He closes the distance between them once more, finding it difficult to leave any space between them it would seem and he grabs her arms within his hands once more, wrapping those fingers around her slender appendages. "I could have killed you by now, in your oblivious state of mind." And he stands there, blood red eyes looking into hers of silver, wondering why the hell he hasn't yet done so.