A Night Walker’s honesty, given willingly.
“How old are you?” That’s the first thing that everyone asks when they learn you’re a vampire. And they HATE if you say anything less than a hundred. I’ve lied so many times about my age that I’m not even entirely sure how old I am. 28? 29? I’ve stopped counting. I was a human, I’m from Earth. But whenever I admit the truth, people always get so disappointed. So I lie. I tell them I’m really centuries old and I’m from Domus. I make up stories about the dark magical forests and the terrifying beasts I used to hunt. Style myself as this cool loner vampire, all powerful and aloof but secretly alone inside. Listen, I know it’s bad but… what else was I supposed to do? Everyone else I ever knew is gone. I just want people to like me. I just want to feel like I belong somewhere. Is that too much to ask? And listen, I know it’s only a matter of time before people figure it out but so what? My life ended when the portals opened. Then it ended again when I got attacked. It’s not like anyone can end it a third time.