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Ice Dust
dd0d8e
It's cold tonight.
A draft rises through the floorboards of your old apartment, shuddering the planks in a dance you are all too familiar with. You've tangoed with the brisk air of October for nearly 80 years, and at this point few would be able to match the way your feet sway across the floor.
Your eyes glance to the window, steel wire lacing across the once luxurious panels of the frame, watching the quiet hustle of the night. Chicago keeps itself occupied at all hours, with a dignity matching the waves of Lake Michigan crashing upon the shores of the city.
If this were new to you, if anything were new to you, perhaps there could be some form of poetry you could pull from it. But there's no more poetry for you, no art, music, passion, or life. Instead, you can merely trace the shadows of what once was, shriveling into nonexistence with each rise of the sun.
Your name is Autumn, a member of Clan Lasombra.
Others refered to you as a Cainite, or a Kindred, but without the pomp and circumstance it all means the same thing.
You are a Vampire.
Tonight is just another night, of course, but the question still remains.
What do you do?
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