Elana

She is a true vampire. Only, she has been trapped in the form of a lion.
I have an obsession with vamps




Life, and death. Matters of the heart only to be quenched by the sweet taste of flowing blood. Elana strode easily through the darkness of a rotting feild, wary as she listened for mortals. Mortals that are only to see her as a spawn of Satan, her red though genetic pattern against silverish fur easily mistaken for the blood of innocent victims. She had given up counting the years of her life, pondering between the horrid bane of her existance that just happened to be blood, the blood she wished not to draw. The voice of her muse echoed through her troubled mind, "Does it matter that they call you such things? Just because someone said it, does that make it true?"
Elana walked onward toward a human village, looking out over it from her vantage point on a high ledge. Her eyes darted to a fence holding a small herd of cattle, enticeingly strolling back and forth. The smell of the blood within them was a suffocating feeling of pain, memory, guilt... and temptation. Temptation that ate at her heart, she was a lion, so was it really so unatral? Her muse said otherwise, so she listened, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to dash forward, take a mighty leap and... She didn't know that they weren't only stray thoughts in her troubled head.
As the ordeal was processed, her entire life flashed infront of her eyes, visions of pain and suffering, the past that had shaped her into the husk that she is now. Though she wanted with all her heart to turn tail and run, run back to just being a shroud of nothingness, counting notches on a tree trunk that symbolize the endless days and nights of statvation, she kept running. Reasoning was blocked out, she was an animal, an animal, not a monster. Her muse sang, humans screamed as she ran... She pounced, muscles flexing, Bri gong down a mighty blow on the cows throat, blood spilled. 'Blood' She thought... 'Blood, of an animal.'
Arrows flew again st the undying force of the wind, one lodged itself into Elana's side, though she could not be detered. Her fangs dug into the animals throat, as she could feel in some distant world that their was something coming... something... big. Alas, she couldn't stay, punishment for such an act of violence. So she did, fleeing into the depths of the night.
Though it so seemed inpossible for one of her kind, she attempted to sleep, a curtain of darkness descended.
Through darkness, she undoubtedly was lucid, padding through the shroud. Her muse was sent, for their was no fear in this dream, alas, twas all her muse was, was fear. No footsteps were left behind in her restless sleep, she begged, pleaded for light, as it seemed Apedemak had taken pity on her soul. This pity took the form of light, light that blinded her and clouded out her vision until it faded back into reality, a barren wasteland she had fallen asleep to.
An owl, lone and majestic took a perch by the branch she slept on, calling an almost silent welcome to her. Elana didn't question it, 'messenger of the gods, for sure...' She almost laughed at the thought, as it fluttered away. Their was no comfort in true dreams and stray thoughts of the world, her muse was silent when she got to pull a thought from the depths of her memory, that maybe it wasn't a true dream. Maybe, just maybe... ha. 'Listen to Me' She thought, 'believing in silly dreams to be true, like a mere cub.'.
Elana nestled back into the branch, unaware a stone Had been lifted from her soul. Whatever weight once held her shackled to the endless fear of existance, was gone. Her muse, if she could call it so, was gone from her consciousness, though it's eyes still burned into her soul. She lifted herself off the branch, determined to shake this thought from her mind. As her paws hit the ground, she felt dizzy, how long had she slept?
The grace of whatever was above was staring down at her, stars shining in the darkness. All insane poetry written was wipped from its page, a new slate had been lay for her. She walked through the underbrush, staying hidden from view of whatever human seeked vengeance of their cattle, back to her vantage point on the ledge. From it, she watched the sunrise. It's colors blazed themselves into her eyes, like the light whatever God had bestowed on her.
She swiftly hid herself from the light upon the burning sensation that followed. Retreating to the underbrush, she replayed that line of advice from her mu-... fear. "You are a crazed animal"... no. She was an animal. Thus she repeated her own line, a line of poetry she wrote for herself, fear was not a word that related such anymore.
"I, am an animal. Animal, not a monster."