At Leisure Lake the sun is always shining and only a few stray clouds roam the open sky; paradise is the one word that really describes it. This beautiful lake is clean and refreshing, the very best place to swim and fish. Pups are known to play here while older wolves watch at the side, engaged in their own activities.
It was official. After quietly passing into his adult stage of life, NeMO had cracked. Days of being alone, days of thinking too much were suddenly the main contributors to how he suddenly was. Perhaps the puzzle of his brain could never be solved and the only way to relieve himself of the anxiety that filled him every time he woke up to the blue skies of day was to become something he found to be terrifying. If it frightened him... why not frighten others with it? The problem was, was that NeMO was only going off a whim. His only knowledge of the term vampire was Eric. The cool and collected male that had become somewhat of a father figure to him even though the two did not spend enough time together for this to even be remotely okay. But that whim had turned into something digusting, and NeMO lost himself in it. Once he tasted varg's blood and convinced himself that it was not only essential but also addicting... he craved it. He lusted after it as a man does a curvacious woman showing too much skin. And in order to get to that fluid, he had to kill. Mercilessly the brujo found his first victim to be pups just born and unattended by a mother, their blinded eyes having not yet seen the glorious vivid colros of the world they had been brought into. Surprisingly enough, he had not held his breath in hesitation. It was a feeling he reveled in. Not having to wait or think about what he was doing before he did it. That freedom was something he had never experienced before, and now he pursued it with all his heart. There were no questions in his head. In fact, he couldn't even hear himself speak. The birth of a new vampire only allowed him to hear the word 'blood' over and over again. Needless to say, it was disastrous. NeMO did not hold the skill of a hunter who preyed cautiously upon these creatures. Instead he carelessly went around and killed without thinking, just for the sake of being bathed in the crimson of life. It EXCITED the male. Brought him to a new level of high that he had never thought to even touch before. And when he became exhausted, that was the only moment when he stopped. His bloodbath was only ceased by this mere tired-ness of his muscles, the breath having escaped his lungs. It was a miracle that he could even form thoughts now... after being in such a state for the last night and this day... perhaps it was the cruel demon's way of celebrating his own day of birth. His own way of paying back the cruel faggots who had deemed him, the son of a King and a concubine, a bastard. Somewhere along the way he had vowed that if he should ever come across them, he would not bow his scarred crown to them; the same crown they had inflicted wounds upon years before. No-- he would bestow his own scars for them. They would be covered in wounds, bleeding upon the ground as they should have been the moment he entered the world. Oh how NeMO had changed in the time of the last few weeks. He had totally flipped himself. Because of this craze, the shy hessain had been drowned in scarlet, only reappearing when the moment was a quiet one. NeMO had not changed entirely; if he was somehow calmed down from this insane shattering of his heart, he might return to being a respectful being... but even then he would not be able to erase who he had formed himself into. After all, once one pops an ecstasy pill into their mug, the feeling is never forgotten. That blissful feeling of complete freedom... it was addictive. Sides heaving the brute moved further into the lake, having entered it not moments before. He ducked his head under, and when he resurfaced, he took the time to watch as the stains of crimson upon his pale cloak disipated into the crystalline fluid surrounding him. NeMO did all he could to groom himself in the water, the dried blood suddenly annoyingly heavy upon his physique. When he was done, he returned to the shore, shaking himself off and looking as pure and pristine as an oxen-hooved unicorn does when it visits a virgin. How ironic that even though he had just committed sins that could not be forgiven that he could still look as angelic as any other. Gray-lined russet portals searched around, finding a tree in bloom that provided sanctuary from the sun blazing above. Nonchalantly the war-boy travelled towards it and settled himself underneath it, allowing the wind to gracefully embrace his summer pelt that had already shed the insulated layer from winter. Sleek, fit, angular and in his prime... NeMO was definitely a sight to see. ... |