My little companion begins to grow on me, the chime of her steps echoing in my ears almost comforting. It had been soo long since one had accompanied me, it almost seemed at this point that my interactions with the dead in the inanimate were more then those that lived. 

I pause, hesitating as she questions my sorrows, was it not good enough that I said I was sorry? It felt right, perhaps if I was raised by someone I would know, but to explain myself to the likes of the filly? I didn't like it. How could she ever understand! No one understood me! I was hated, disgusted, not wanted, 

Taking a breath with the anger that swirled inside me, I continue on,"I don't think you'll understand. It is of no worth of explanation." I finish, the pool side ariving.
I watch the pale filly struggle to sip upon the crimson tides, the red glow consuming her blush and cream skin, who knew that golds and reds laced so well upon the younger's skin. 

I can instantly tell that my hopes aren't going to be fulfilled, my eyes saddening just a bit. She asks questions, questions that I owe that answers to but only know the answer to one. I have never thought about why I was the way I am, but rather just accepted it as what I was fated to be. "I am Cortana, but I do not know why I do. I drank blood instead of milk ever since I was young." I inform her, talking with the ringing echo of a snake, the sultry lure of my signature. 

Larue tells me about something else that lightens my mood, the approaching grumpyness staying at bay for just a bit longer. She offers her body, so wholly, so innocent she was. I can feel my brain thirst for the blood that pumped through the veins of the deer, the taste of it within my mouth, I do not starve for food, but the thirst is always lingering upon my tongue. Shaking my head, my composure is regained, the young shalln't be picked on, I won't feast--but perhaps a taste of whatever the child spoke of, would be alright. No harm in trying.

I hesitate in positioning my lips towards her withers, offering enough time for Larue decide to evade the monster in which Cortana was, I was. If she allowed, my maw inched closer, a tentative lick across her tangy, sour skin, bringing a slight delight to my features. My face lingers near her withers as the taste slips over her tongue. I pull away reluctantly, being that the tastes of bitter and tangy things were what I lived off of, I quite enjoyed the taste. What possibly could make her like that? "Larue, what makes you taste different? Do you know?" I asked, childish curiosity flooding through me like the water's around the arc. Was there some higher being that disposed children with their own trait that made them different? This was one other that I had met-- one other that made the wickedness inside me feel different, feel less wicked. 



chat chat

OCC: