Generation I ~ Part One ~ The Other Side

My name is Solange Umbria Nocturne. I've returned to Bridgeport to begin a Legacy. 

I am a vampire, newly strengthened in my inherited immortality. Far behind me is my father, resting under the peaceful stars of Appaloosa Plains, while I am being smothered under the smog of this horrid city. It is obvious I detest it here, yet here I tread, alone in the forests skirting the city. 

Pathetic. 

The sun completes its morning ritual and beats feebly against the overcast skies. I'm forced to retreat to the small gazebo, the only structure on the entire lot. Even in the shade I can feel the iciness of the sun creeping up my spine, and so I'm forced to light a fire in the small pit I dragged from the brush across the street.

Ironic, I believe, that sunlight makes vampires cold. With a chill I realize I'm trapped here, under this patchy roof of the very place I would never call my home.

Pushing around the crackling wood, the heavy smoke burns my lungs. I feel weary. It is not long before the light causes me to become quickly weak. I sit by the fire, hoping its heat will keep me awake, but not only am I freezing to death in the sunlight but becoming hyperactive with thirst. Shade does little to help me, for as long as the sun burns at my back with no walls of stone to protect me, I will be trapped in this living hell. I await the twilight with feverish strength.

I'm still unaccustomed to being awake during the daylight hours. During my week of transition from my life into my Legacy, it had been recommended to me by my Adviser to begin sleeping at dusk. My general distaste for the whole Legacy Challenge led to my grudge against aide from my Adviser, so I had blatantly ignored her. Now I slumbered fitfully, wrapped in the only possession the Association had let me bring - an old crumpled sleeping bag.  

The last ray.

Finally. My mind is so hyper-aware at this point I almost can't believe I could be this thirsty. Just this morning I had drank a glass of cool blood while my Adviser Clarice scowled at me. I absolutely cannot express my disdain for that woman, who's jealousy of me and my longevity is clear. She's been working for the Association, who runs the Legacy challenges throughout the country, since she was eighteen. It's no surprise that as I think of her, my phone rings.

  

"Speak of the devil," I answer breezily. I can almost feel her contempt in the space between us.

"Lovely to hear of you also," she says silkily. How she remains sounding so calm is a mystery. "I trust you survived day one without incident?"

"Oh my dear Clarice, why don't you drop by? I'm feeling a bit...peckish."

"Taunting me will not help you in the least," she quips.

"I'll do as I wish." I venture daringly, fighting a chuckle during the silence that ensues. 

"You'll do best to watch your tongue, Solange." 

I begin a reply but the line drops dead. I smile to myself. The more she hates me the less of her and the Association I will have to put up with. 

How the urban life repulses me. Using my cell phone I call a cab, show him my Legacy Premium Card, which allows me free fare anywhere in the city.

I suppose now would be a good time to explain some things.

You see, the Association is the Legislative Legacy Account Management Association of SimNation, or the LLAMAS. Most citizens, like myself, just call them the Association. They have a large corporation near Sunset Valley, where they manage Legacy Founders, Heirs, and Descendants - not to mention all of the other Challenges that have been developing lately. Clarice has an office here in the city, though she's expressed to me often enough how she hates it here. I guess, in some way, we can relate to each other through that mutual hate.

I arrived at my destination. Waylon's Haunt. What a fitting name for such a dark and shadowed place. On the far side of town, I arrived just as the sun slipped below the horizon. Compressed between warehouses, it was hidden near the docks, only distinguishable by the faint pulsing lights emanating from the sealed windows. I didn't stay long. I had no money for a drink and it was suspiciously packed for a Monday evening. More than one eager young man approached me, only to be instantly warded off by my gleaming eyes and a flash of fangs. 

 As I exited the building, I began walking down the street, when I voice broke the silence of an abandoned alley.

"M'am? Spare a penny..." the homeless man coughed hoarsely, unable to complete his request. I approached him, wondering if he thought my blank expression was puzzling. He stood on feeble legs, and I noticed he was not as old as he looked. Maybe in his forties. A spark of confusion lit in his tired gray eyes.

I stifled a very strong very fake sob. He approached without caution. A kind soul. "Are you all right? Would ya like me to call ya a cab?"

 I fluttered my eye lashes innocently, as though fighting tears. "Could you..."

He reached into his pocket for something, but I grabbed his arm. He grunted and tried to pull away, but my glare made him go stock-still. I licked my lips swiftly, bared my fangs. He jumped but couldn't break my hold on his forearm.

 I lowered my teeth to his arm, pushing away his jacket to reveal the pale flesh of his wrist.

"This," I said, "Is going to hurt," and bit down.

He guttered a choked gasp, but screamed once before I stopped. His eyelids drooped. I told him he would feel better if he slept. He inertly stumbled back to his small shelter, mumbling something unintelligible before drifting into a deep sleep.

I swiped a drop of blood from my chin and straightened  myself. I shouldn't have to feed again for another couple of days.

I walk off without backward glance, traveling the busy streets in the shadows, learning the roads and buildings, committing clubs and bars to memory.

Daybreak approached from seemingly no where. Across the other side of the sun, I notice a distant mountain rising from a flat plain. It's faint even with my advanced vision, and only within vague direction of the town, but somehow I know it is Appaloosa Plains, and that just as I fall into a deep slumber, my father does likewise in my old home.

My lips curl back from my teeth in anger. If I leave this city, my Bloodline ends and I fail the Challenge.

I didn't choose this life, and if I leave it, I'll die.

Huddled in my sleeping bag next to the fire, I find myself murmuring the words.

"...I'll die..."