The frustration built; Caleb had been busy leaving Charlotte going crazy talking to Sparky. He tilted his head, the tongue peaked, and the doe eyes were of no comfort as she believed Caleb was avoiding her questions. Caleb possessed the life she craved, love and passion with eternal youth and beauty; a thirst for blood was a small price to pay for a being with him. Pacing, Charlotte needed to know what their relationship meant to him. Her heart knew she was in love, and the way he touched her, the depth and warmth of his kiss, he felt the same. Feeling and saying were different; Rylan spoke words accompanied by cold actions; Caleb, his heart stopped, ignited a fire within Charlotte. Patrick was too busy finding himself to worry about how she felt, and without Caleb, his verbal confession of attraction, Charlotte wallowed in her loneliness.
The night brought discomfort, sheets twisted, binding her body, echoing her restless mind. The house, its empty walls and collection of urns, resembled the church of its former life; Charlotte could hear herself breathing, every creek, crack as the wind rushed through. She clutched the sheets tighter, wishing her mother was alive, squeezing her eyes, forcing the memories to the surface. Charlotte could smell Emilie’s perfume, her voice clear and filled with emotion, white locks and crystal blue eyes. If this were her imagination, no detail missed; except the comfort her mother’s presence brought.
Charlotte gritted her teeth; she resented Patrick’s arrival; he looked refreshed from his week in the wild and had collected Milly at Evergreen Harbour. The two cousins talked trees, plants and furious bears; Milly giggled as Patrick growled, his arms in the air, hands clawed, they descended on her in a tickle attack. The squeals tensed Charlotte, her neck sore from sleepless nights grew tighter, and her tone gave a jealous response. Patrick approached, his bear posture; Charlotte snapped, uninterested in his childish games; a swift punch landed softly against his torso as he dodged. Smirking, he returned to Milly; he had an idea for a mediative garden, a place their parents and ancestor would appreciate; despite inviting Charlotte, she folded her arms sulking.
The time was now, Charlotte demanded an answer, being his girlfriend was no longer enough; she would be eighteen in ten months. If Caleb refused to turn her, another vampire would be sort. Caleb muted her, a kiss to distract as the bar he chose for their quiet drink had grown in popularity. The new management believed in loud music; cheap drinks, which Charlotte guessed was watered-down. They introduced the growing trend of dedicated nights for singles, those playing dress up or aliens trying to integrate into human society in their colourful forms. Charlotte sunk back, the chair comfy; mood radiated her frustration, glaring at the happy party-goers. Her bottom lip jutted, Caleb tugged it, his lips trailed kisses across her jaw, the corners of her mouth twitched, teeth nipped her ear, a promise he would answer everything soon.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 