Rhiannon got the all-too-familiar sensation of ghostly fingers at the nape of her neck. The Council said it would be a faint tingle, but to her, it just felt like someone walking on her grave. Vampire. It wasn’t a total surprise. The literature was correct in that many older vampires loved finery, and this ball with its silver trumpets and expensive champagne definitely qualified. Over a rim of crystal and bubbles, she let her eyes wander until they came upon a redhead.
Bingo.
A little smiled played at the corners of her mouth.
The truth was, Rhiannon loved running into the undead at soirees. It was the only time she was permitted to talk to them without having to also consider the best tactical advantage. In a way, slayers and vampires were meant for one another; they would always find one another fascinating.
She walked up alongside her and followed the redhead’s gaze. “Nah. You don’t want her… she’s anemic,” she said lightly.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2013-12-27 12:13 am (UTC)Bingo.
A little smiled played at the corners of her mouth.
The truth was, Rhiannon loved running into the undead at soirees. It was the only time she was permitted to talk to them without having to also consider the best tactical advantage. In a way, slayers and vampires were meant for one another; they would always find one another fascinating.
She walked up alongside her and followed the redhead’s gaze. “Nah. You don’t want her… she’s anemic,” she said lightly.