Selene Downheart
Character
It had been a long night watching over my sister, while she worked I waited outside. I have never spoken to her, only watched from the shadows. In a weird way I have watched her grow up and fend for herself. She has been in situations where I wish I would have stepped in but I knew it was not the right time.
Now I find myself perched upon a building across the street from The Duchess' Lair waiting for her to be on her way home. When she finally comes out she looks tired, yet she still has the shine in her eyes. I will follow her till she arrives home and then knock on her door. She doesn't live far so there isn't much to worry of. The only thing I do worry about is if she will like me or not and accept our history.
By the time she gets home it is 2 in the morning and she looks slightly more awakened, I assume that she fed and that the fresh air woke her up. I wait outside her building for a solid 20 minutes before going up the front stairs and knocking. Beads of sweat are beginning to form on my hands while the air smell stale suddenly. It is time.
I get to her door and stand there, unable to move. When I finally find my movement I lightly tap on her door, my black hair draped down my back and my blue eyes dull from the anxiety. What is the worst that could happen I ask myself? She could throw me out, or try and kill me. The good out weighs the bad in this particular moment.
[member="Eliza Downheart"]
Now I find myself perched upon a building across the street from The Duchess' Lair waiting for her to be on her way home. When she finally comes out she looks tired, yet she still has the shine in her eyes. I will follow her till she arrives home and then knock on her door. She doesn't live far so there isn't much to worry of. The only thing I do worry about is if she will like me or not and accept our history.
By the time she gets home it is 2 in the morning and she looks slightly more awakened, I assume that she fed and that the fresh air woke her up. I wait outside her building for a solid 20 minutes before going up the front stairs and knocking. Beads of sweat are beginning to form on my hands while the air smell stale suddenly. It is time.
I get to her door and stand there, unable to move. When I finally find my movement I lightly tap on her door, my black hair draped down my back and my blue eyes dull from the anxiety. What is the worst that could happen I ask myself? She could throw me out, or try and kill me. The good out weighs the bad in this particular moment.
[member="Eliza Downheart"]