Abigail Snow's Story

Fleeting orbs of soft light slowly danced around the room, as a miniature carousel repeatedly obscured and uncovered a dim lightbulb beneath it with each, endless turn. The light cast ominious shadows upon the frozen, faceless animals whose paint had chipped away with wear and time. With each spin of the childish night-light, the walls and furniture of the room briefly receded into darkness, only to be revealed once more. Two shelves, engraved with elaborate borders and detail, leaned against the room's furthest wall. Numerous volumes and leather-bound books with golden embellishments lined their shelves. Yellowing sheets of parchment spilled over the edge of an antique writing desk, ink fading with aging time. Rows of porcelain dolls and a single tea set gleamed from behind the doors of a glass cabinet. Translucent drapes cascaded down in rippling waves, from above a bed frame. Although the bed's individual elements were lavish and perfected to the most exquisite tastes, the sophisticated maturity of the bed and its room were immediately dismissed by the overwhelming armada of stuffed animals towering upon it. Disturbing the unsettling stillness and silence, a plush kitten tumbled to the floor, with a sudden rustle from within the folds of sheets. A pale hand unearthed itself from the swarm of animals, lethargically clawing at the air. It tossed a few animals aside, allowing a young female to emerge from such a sea of innocence. Her emotionless expression of indifference overwhelmed the potential impression. Sitting upright in bed, the girl rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She blinked several times, staring blankly into the lifeless, glass eyes of a soft puppy. After a period of stillness, the girl slipped into a pair of pink, bunny slippers and entered her bathroom. The aura she emitted and her movements---even down to the slightest motion---were fluid and graceful. Such an impression proved proper and favorable in many situations, contrary to her impatient, arrogant personality.

Once the warm steam had cleared from the bathroom mirrors, the girl gazed into her pale reflection. She quickly turned away though, as if she recalled something. What were you expecting, Abigail? You're going to look the same, now and forever. The condescending thoughts wore away at her pathetic anticipation, returning her face to its usual, distant facade. Slipping into white blouse laced with black ribbon and an equally dark skirt, Abigail buttoned her top completely, shielding the scar on her chest from curious eyes. A worn pair of Converse on her feet diluted the prim and dainty air built up by her attire. Although she bought the shoes for comfort and blending in, the obvious contrast only drew more attention to herself. Gingerly pinning a dull, cerulean flower into her hair, Abigail stared at her reflection for awhile, before shutting the door behind her.

After walking the length of two, carpeted hallways and down an elegant yet simple flight of stairs, Abigail stepped over the enterance's threshold and into the night. Her cheeks burned with each brisk gust of chilly air. Vaporous puffs of her breath floated upwards, eventually dissipating into nothingness. Although the vampire could tolerate the cold, she still rubbed her hands over her arms to avoid arousing curious suspicion. As she approached a bust crosswalk, a crowd of impatient adults engulfed her. Whether they were scrolling through their phones, sipping a cup of coffee, or staring off into space, everyone was distracted. Abigail frowned in disgust at the humans' lack of attention to the environment around them and their complete, invested attention in self-indulging actions. It had been a few days since her last meal, and she'd grown an irriating hunger now. Unlike the older vampires that quartered in the same house as her, Abigail was a fairly reccent victim---a young vampire---who endured the struggles of human and vampire within her, until the latter would eventually take over fully. Despite the undeveloped powers that came with such a state, Abigail could at least rest easy with her body's weak demand for blood.

She glanced over at a middle-aged woman standing beside her. She's not very young, but I'm sure she won't taste awfully stale. I just have to lure her away from this crowd and- Abigail's scheming thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sudden force of impatient people that pushed her forward. Irked, she tried to remain focused.

A turn to the left, to the right, to the left, a back-track retracing: Clearly this woman wasn't from River Lake. Her frustration growing, Abigail's patience wore thin. However, the enticing aroma of vanilla and coffee captured her attention. Initially hesitant, Abigail reluctantly let the woman disappear into a bustling resturant across the street. Redirecting her attention to the bakery, she surveyed the humble sign overhead: Delilah's Gorumet. Her infatuation with pastries and sweets instanteously dismissing her logical reasoning, Abigail approached the bakery. Her nose twitched. Now that she was closer, the subtle scent of something alluring wafted to her sensitive nose. Unable to conceal her eagerness, Abigail pushed on the glass door. To no avail, the doors wouldn't budge, only bumping against her head from the momentum. Her cheeks reddened, flustered with embaressment. Glancing down, she noticed a small, vertical sticker posted near the door's handle: "Pull to open." Exhaling a wavering sigh, Abigail pulled the door open and stepped inside. Forgetting that the doors were glass, she hoped no one had seen her difficulties.

Entranced by a glass display case filled with delicate pastries, Abigail's concealed delight wilted at the sight of Arya walking past her and towards a table where their coven leader sat. A vibrant flash of pink captured her attention as well. Arya, Lydia, Ephraim: They're all here, well, except Morgan and Virgil. With the knowledge of her coven's presence, Abigail drained her face of any lingering delight, regaining her empty expression once more. Granted, River Lake was a small community, but she hadn't thought the majority of her coven would all assemble in one place, during their free time. Perhaps we're all homing in on the same intriguing scent. The youngest vampire, Abigail deemed it impolite and threatening to steal prey from the much older and experienced vampires, especially the coven leader---Ephraim. Although, in regards to vampires and their behaviors, nothing followed standard etiquette. No one's publiclly labeled the prey as their own, so I might as well take it. She briefly entertained the idea that perhaps the others simply came to enjoy the lovely array of pastries but hastily dismissed such a nonsense. Despite her reserved attitude towards the coven, Abigail didn't hesitate when it came to feeding. Food was food, and she needed it to survive. She always approached and percieved her victims with such blunt logic.

Walking towards the opposite end of the bakery, Abigail sat at a table furthest away from the fellow vampires. Her facade began to crack, however, with the images and titles of delicious sweets. She swallowed, salavating, perhaps from the aroma of spices or the unknown scent that beckoned her initially. Nodding her head in content satisfaction on her order, she immediately raised her hand in the sweet air, as though she were a determined student in school. Her cheeks reddened at the curious stares and muffled whispers of customers around her. Hesitant, she lowered her shaky hand. How am I suppose to get someone's attention? Is there a bell or something? Beneath her emotionless expression, Abigail's mind frantically raced with anxiety.

Cassiel

Cassiel watched as customers came and went, like a colony of worker ants grabbing the sweets and taking them back to their hives. She greeted December as she came in and noticed the twitch of her mouth, her way of smiling as Cassiel always remembered. She returned December’s smile and continued on her way of processing orders. It wasn’t an easy job, loading the orders into the computers, making sure all the necessary ingredients were available, and testing each batch to make sure it was suitable to the requester’s tastes. She was currently working on an order for a couple who were getting married in two month’s time. It was to be a strawberry cake with a marbling of red velvet cake and chocolate cake topped with cream cheese frosting. She never understood the meaning behind weddings and didn’t care much for them, but even so, she wanted to make sure her clients were satisfied.

“Hm, so this goes here,” she began before the jingles of the bell moving signaled customers arriving. She glanced to spot a woman with abnormal pink hair and was quite beautiful to say the least. The stares of the other customers (mainly the males) justified that. She began to browse the bakery and Cassiel left her to the hands of her employee’s. Before she could return her attention back to the order at hand, another man appeared; this one seemed a bit more reserved and uninterested in the pastries at hand. If she had to guess, he seemed more irritated than anything. She watched as he set up in a table and began reading a newspaper. Odd fellow, she thought as she glanced towards the door. She spotted a young woman having some difficulty opening the door, and she was almost inclined to go help her when the black haired woman finally opened it. These were new customers. She’d never seen them before that was for sure.

Not more than a few seconds later, Nickolas showed up seemingly distraught by something. He stood nervously by the front door and made his way to the back. Cassiel acknowledged him and went back to what she was doing. She heard Daniel’s voice a few minutes later, and before she could respond, he was in the back asking Nickolas to do some things for him. She chuckled to herself and placed the note tablet down on the counter and made her way around to make herself useful with the inflow of new customers. She spotted the black haired woman (who had trouble opening the door) sitting down at a table to the back and noticed how…frustrated she seemed. She grabbed a small tablet and made her way towards the woman. She hadn't noticed a purple haired woman walk in.

“Hi, welcome to Delilah’s Gourmet! My name is Cassiel and I will be glad to be your waitress today. Can I get you something? Perhaps start you off with our famous in-house strawberry shortcake?” she asked, smiling all the while.

Her attention was caught by another scent, a familiar one this time belonging to one of the Coven. Ephraim was nearby. She wondered if he was going on a run again. Lydia chuckled at the thought. His need to do something was she found cute; just one of the many things that no one else in the world would ever agree with. Her easily amused personality was something that many did not understand. Except maybe Virgil that is. Speaking of the vampire, she hadn't seen him since the day before due to her personal outings. The little bakery was just darling, and she just had to tell him later. She could always contact him using her phone, but there was not any rush. She could still smell Ephraim's scent in the area, and she would have ignored it if she had not realized he was coming closer.

That’s strange, pastries do not suit Ephraim well at all, she thought to herself.

When she heard the jangling of the door bells, it was confirmed that Ephraim had entered the bakery. How cute, the nonchalant leader sitting in the midst of a colorful confectionery. Well, he obviously was not there to lecture her to give her any news, so she continued browsing the delicious treats. The vampire tried to search for something that was not too sweet. Although she liked them, she did not have a sweet tooth. Just enough sugar would suffice. Anything more and her taste buds would sense it as ‘much too much’. For some reason humans just loved to indulge themselves in whatever would kill them; her included. She felt the eyes of men on her, and hid her smile. Lydia prolonged her browsing, just to have the glory of being admired for just a bit longer. After what felt like a long time, she finally settled for a fudge cupcake topped with pink frosting. Of course, she made sure it also had a cherry on top.

Just when she was about to call for some service, another scent had sneaked its way into the bakery. A different one from the first, but it was just as pleasing of an aroma. A conclusion finally came to her. Humans. It had to be a human’s scent. It was not the smell of the fluffy bread or frosting, it was the scent of humans. Strange enough was that it was not one, but two different scents. She had heard of humans with enticing scents, but never had she encountered such scents. How coincidental that she found two in one day. Lydia allowed her head to turn towards the direction that her nose was guiding her. She did not see anyone. It seemed to be coming from the back of the bakery. With a disappointed sigh, her eyes wandered the bakery for the other source. They set upon a woman with long orange hair.

What a beautiful hair color, almost as lovely as mine, she thought as she looked at her.

The woman worked at the bakery, which was obvious with her adornment of an apron. Lydia was trapped between the decision to speak to her, or ignore her scent completely. She had no reason to not speak to her, and was on the verge of stepping towards the woman when the second scent entered the room. The pink head stopped and searched for the source. It was another woman, one with long dark hair. If not for her scent she would have paid her no heed. She was dressed in grey, the drabbest of colors, and to top it off the hoodie hid her figure. Now, why would any woman want to hide that? Well since she was already smelling her, she took her time analyzing the person. Lydia was sure the girl had curves, judging by the way her hips were shaped. Under her top she was probably hiding a nice body shape. What a shame. Although the girl looked plain, if she became Lydia's doll, she could easily become a work of art. Her tongue ran over her lips, the scent of the two were so tempting. Thank goodness she had already eaten.

New scent. Shoot. So many scents were interrupting her thoughts today. This time, it was Abigail. Oh? The young'un was at the bakery as well? Lydia turned around just in time to see the poor young vampire run straight into the glass door. Lydia's hand covered her mouth as she let out an audible chuckle. Oh, the little one was just adorable. She watched Abigail walk in, but then refocused her attention on the delightful aromas.

New scent. Damn it all, she felt like a dog. One that would stop and sniff the air every time it caught whiff of something. This time, it was a boy. He rushed into the bakery and straight to the back. So, that makes three scents in one day. Did working at the bakery give them this scent? Not all the employees had their own strong unique aroma, so she guessed not.

New scent. Okay, this was starting to get annoying. Was her nose malfunctioning? There could not have been this many enticing aromas coming from humans in just one store right? Another boy. Seemingly with a younger brother. The younger brother did not carry the same scent, so it wasn't genetic. River Lake just got interesting. The boy walked over to where Ephraim was seated, seemingly requesting to take his order.

Of course, another scent. It appeared Arya had decided to join in. Their scents were so strong, she didn't blame them. All they were missing was Morgan and dear ol' Virgil.

She would join her coven later, for now she really needed that little snack. Her head turned back to the dark-haired girl in grey clothing. Putting on a sweet smile, Lydia walked towards her, her heels clicking against the floor boards. What a nice scent. If only the girl were actually a doll, she could bring her home to bed and snuggle with her all night. Then again, a doll didn't provide much of a meal. Or fun for that matter, she thought.

"Good evening Miss, could I get that cupcake over there?" She asked, pointing at the pink-frosted cupcake she so dearly craved.

Abigail quickly spun her head the direction of the cheerful greeting. Initially uninterested with the polite waitress, she flinched at the mention of cake. Her mouth watered. Not only did her suggestion sound delicious, but the scent the waitress emmited was as well. Engrossed in a scheme that involved feeding on both sweets and the waitress, Abigail failed to notice the awkward silence she was creating. A couple of condescending whispers from watchful customers, however, penetrated her concentration. Although embaressed by her impoliteness, she cast a menacing glare to an eavesdropping couple two tables down. A sharp glint shined across her narrowed eyes, silently promising swift, cruel judgment later. Disturbed by the unsettling tension, the couple stared into their coffee, avoiding Abigail's bitter gaze.

She quietly nodded at the waitress' suggestion, leaving their exchange of words one-sided.

Failing to calm herself, Abigail tapped her foot impatiently. Though her face remained emotionless, her behavior was anything but. Thick with the scents of sweets and humans, the environment only fueled her anxiety further, perhaps even magnifying her hunger. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, emmiting a sound of obvious annoyance. Giving in to her intense desire, Abigail jolted out of her seat, slamming her hands against the table. The inappropriate action reminded her of the dire need to blend in. Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, she exhaled a small cough, straightened out her skirt, and walked towards a member of the staff. She moved in the utmost graceful manner, redeeming herself from the premature notions of other cutsomers. "Excuse me." Her unwavering voice was soft and pleasant to the ears. A member of the staff continued with their buisness. The faintest frown fell upon Abigail's tender lips. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she exclaimed a little louder. Fuming with irritation and blood boiling with a sudden, unexplainable rage, Abigail stepped in between the staff and whatever they were doing. Ugh...what the heck is that smell? It's entrancing but it's almost sickening. Although her gaze hungrily swept over the staff's exposed neck, she quickly redirected her attention to her lack of cake. Only a mere five minutes had past, but to Abigail, time had dragged on far too slowly, despite being an immortal vampire, due to her loyalty to her pastry infatuation.

"Hey," she said, a little less polite and quiet than she had intended. She didn't hesitate or show any sign of retreating, however. "Cake." The blunt, crass demand contradicted with her reserved, prim appearance. Even to Abigail, the statement's lack of proper structure and words seemed primitive and barbaric. She exhaled a weak sigh. This is why I hate social interactions and conversations. Why are they so difficult? Instead of feeling frustrated with herself, however, Abigail redirected such anger at everyone else deemed unreliable. "Where's the cake I was promised?"

December leaned against the counter, watching more and more begin to file in. Another new looking costumer came it, with dark hair and bright blue-grey looking eyes. She had trouble with door, and seemed frustrated when she sat down. Nickolas came in next, looking at bit bewildered, or maybe he was just paranoid. This wasn't surprising, the boy was a bit jumpy, worrying about everything too much. Daniel came next, and quickly got to work, taking the stern looking man's order. December then felt slightly guilty, mostly because of the fact there were more than a few people here, and she was relaxing. Another female came in, also new.. It was a weird night, but she wasn't exactly complaining. It was somewhat refreshing to see new faces. Deciding she might as well go make herself useful, she was about to go take the angry girl's order, knowing there wouldn't be too much conversation.
It wasn't that she didn't like conversation, she just found that she wasn't the best at making it. Keeping it sometimes even, because she found herself a bit boring to talk to. It didn't matter though, because Cassiel came and walked over to the girl.

She bit her lower lip, and tapped her pen against the counter. So much for that. Again, this was probably better because Dess might've been the worst sales person in the world. She wasn't much for convincing people, and being slightly stubborn herself, she hated to try and sway other's opinions. Mostly she was carefree, but she was mainly against being too extravagant. And at that moment, the definition of the word seemed to be heading in her direction.

Her sweet smile, spread across her pink lips. She could hear the girl's shoes click against the floor.
Randomly, December wondered if they'd scuff the floor.
Her attention going back to the girl, she couldn't help but notice she was giving her a weird look. A mix between being friendly, flirty, and she got this weird feeling the girl looked hungry. She couldn't tell if it was for the food or for her. She was probably being crazy though, Nickolas must've rubbed off on her getting all worried. Either way, there the perfect pink haired barbie doll stood before her, and greeted the much plainer looking, December.

"Good evening Miss, could I get that cupcake over there?" asked the girl, or woman you could say, her curves proved that.
It was a delicately pink frosted cupcake, she should've guessed. Well, at least it wasn't her.

Up closer she could see the woman's eyes clearer, which were a mix of lovely blues. Even compared to the rare green eyes Dess had, they were dull to the lovely blue. She blinked, realizing she was supposed to be helping the barbie.
"Of course." She said, motioning the girl over to the register. December shuffled behind the counter now, and carefully took the cupcake from the glass display area. "For here or to go?" she asked simply, looking her in the eyes.

The girl who had trouble opening the door then approached one of the other staff members, asking where her cake was. Didn't she come in almost eight minutes ago? She wondered, but returned her gaze to the pink one.

---

Given that half his coven was suddenly present in what he had judged to be a rather out of the way hole in the wall (albeit one decorated far too… cheerfully for his tastes), he was hardly surprised when Arya sauntered over to his booth, sliding into place across from him like she owned the place. She’d been following him for some time, and he hadn’t bothered to try hiding his location from her: he’d had no reason to do so, and she was an incredibly-skilled tracker who probably would have found him anyway. Why she’d bothered to follow him was another question entirely, but it wasn’t one he was going to bother asking. She wasn’t exactly one for straight answers.

“None of which I am aware,” he replied tonelessly, turning the page of his newspaper without bothering to look up at her. “Is there somewhere else we should be?” Golden eyes flickered across the surface of the newsprint page, taking in the data available at an accelerated rate. More warfare in the Middle East. Africa didn’t even make the headlines anymore. It wasn’t particularly interesting; after a while, all wars started to look the same.

A male voice interrupted his reading, and he glanced up briefly, meeting the eyes of a youthful human, probably in his twenties. Ephraim had taken note of the fact that everyone working at this place seemed to smell unnaturally tasty, but it was something that by now he was quite easily able to ignore. Arya was probably also old enough to manage this, though he had to admit he didn’t know how old she actually was. Lydia and Abigail might have more problems, but as long as they abided by the rules, he didn’t particularly care.

“A regular coffee; black,” Ephraim replied evenly, no trace of any particular feeling in his baritone. He finally looked over at Arya, raising a brow just slightly as if to inquire if she’d be having anything.

From over the waiter’s shoulder and out of the corner of his eye, he noted Abigail’s understated tantrum and frowned nearly imperceptibly. The glares she was shooting the other patrons were bound to draw attention if her minor hissy fit did not, and he had to check his paranoia and remind himself that rude people did not generally inspire the same amount of alarm as people with elongated fangs sticking out of their mouths or what-have-you. So many years of vigilance and a few careless near-misses had made him perhaps a little too fastidious about these things. He was antisocial, but generally stopped short of antagonizing people that didn’t bother him first. Virgil, Arya, and Lydia could blend into humanity like chameleons if they chose, and Morgan was generally inoffensive and apathetic, which was fine. Their youngest member didn’t quite seem to have her disguise fully implemented yet.

For now, he’d ignore it and see what happened.

It occurred to him then that he was rather glad Virgil wasn’t present, for more than the usual reasons. His excessively-gregarious brother would probably be chatting with the staff by now, spinning elaborate backstories for each and every member of his dysfunctional little “family” and drawing far too much attention for Ephraim’s comfort.

Flipping the page of his paper again, Ephraim came to the crossword and produced a pen from somewhere on his person, the movement a bit too slight to track, and clicked the nib into place with his thumb. The first few were simple; after a while, even crossword clues grew repetitive. He didn’t do it for the challenge anymore, obviously, but rather for the effect it had on his mind. It gave him something to do, an effective-enough distraction from his surroundings, though one that allowed him to maintain vigilant attention for any sharp changes in the situation.

His handwriting was sharp, but oddly elegant. Certainly, his scholarly sibling had a neater, more elegant penmanship, but Ephraim’s was still leagues more graceful than what most children were taught in this age. It had the feel of old journals, a scrawl Da Vinci would have written, but in truth it was much older still than that. He’d simply stopped trying to emulate script after the Renaissance, and so that was where it had been stuck ever since.

---

”Alright, I shall get that for you right away,” Cassiel replied as she wrote down the woman’s order and left to retrieve the pastry. As she did so, she noticed the case was empty and frowned. It was supposed to be filled with the strawberry shortcakes. She sighed and lowered her shoulders. This was not going to bode well with the customer so she needed to make more. First thing was first: apologize to the customer. She quickly made her way back to the black haired girl and noticed she was already up, demanding where her cake was. Cassiel frowned a bit; she didn’t want to have to deal with someone so…impatient. Gathering her composure, Cassiel forced a smile and walked up to the woman.

“I am terribly sorry ma’am, but it seems we are out of our in-house strawberry shortcakes. I can, however, make you one if you so wish. It will take about twenty to thirty minutes to bake. If you’d rather try something else, I’d be glad to give you another pastry, on the house to make up for the shortcake,” she spoke to the woman, keeping a calm tone as if she were speaking to an elderly adult. She didn’t want things to get out of hand and she would prefer not to cause a scene. Kicking someone out of her bakery was not something Cassiel wanted to do and hated doing. “If you’ll excuse me, I will go start on that shortcake. Just find whatever catches your fancy and I will return shortly with your cake,” she concluded before leaving. She made her way to the kitchen area and began to grab the necessary items to make the shortcake. After a good twenty-five minutes, she proceeded to top of the cake with light cream and strawberries to finish her dish. She let it cool for five more minutes before making her way back out.

“Sorry about that ma’am, but I do hope you enjoy this. This one is on the house as well as an apology,” Cassiel stated, placing the plate down in front of the woman. She didn’t stay for a reply and left to the counter, checking on her employee’s to make sure they were doing okay. Harriet had yet to show up and she was growing a bit worried about the girl. She hoped nothing major happened on her way to work. She pushed the thoughts aside and noticed she was running low on sugar. She cursed beneath her breath and pulled off her apron. She pulled her blue jacket back on and headed towards the front, wallet in hand. She passed by Nickolas on her way out and stopped in front of him, noticing his solemn look. Well, she couldn’t have that now could she?

“Hey Nick, do me a favor will you? Can you watch the bakery for a bit? I need to go get sugar. We are running low and I need to finish the wedding cake,” she stated as she left for the door, not giving him time to respond. He was always good at managing the bakery when she needed to leave. She passed December and gave her a quick glance, noticing she was attending to the pink haired beauty. “Hey Dess, I’ll be back,” she began as she rummaged through her wallet, “I need to get sugar and I left Nick in charge. Make sure he doesn’t get in over his head will ya?” she stated and finally proceeded throughout the door. The store she usually received her items from was at least a thirty minute walk. Any sane person would have driven, however; Cassiel does not own a car. She’s been terrified to drive after the accident and has only ever walked to work and back. She didn’t mind so much and began to hum a light tune, enjoying the summer breeze as it passed by.

As Cassiel---the patient and polite waitress---gingerly set the miniature cake on the table, Abigail's twisted face softened into its usual, blank pose. The delicate pastry reflected in her lit eyes. She nodded quietly to the waitress, perhaps apologetically as well, but neither's attention lingered long enough to catch the other's reaction. The usually reserved, silent monster had been tamed. Something itched in the back of Abigail's mind, however. Although she wasn't closely aquainted with the coven and was young, she respected them all enough to mutually cooperate. Her inability to control her temper, which was usually mellowed with distant dettachment from everyone, surprised even her. She entertained all potential explainations, and deemed one the most logically realistic. Thrown into a new environment, Abigail concluded that her vampiristic qualities influenced her behavior. The cause had to be her demanding, vital hunger. After all, being surrounded by countless humans and not being able to quell her increasing hunger would affect any, fairly young vampire.

Her reserved mannerisms completely returned, Abigail proceeded eating her cake with refined grace. The cake temporarily filling the famished void within her, she relaxed, though not compromising her posture. Briefly holding the fork to her lips, Abigail surveyed the bakery more closely. Although she was cursed with such a demanding, sweet tooth, she would never step foot inside the establishment. Lively, vibrant, and cheerful: The bakery's ambience was the exact opposite of her. She felt out of place but pathetically smiled at such self-pity. You're a vampire. You'll always be out of place. Quickly glancing at the rest of the coven, she felt less alone, despite the reality of them all drowning in solitude. I guess we all are...

Before Abigail savored the last bite of the light, fluffy cake, a familiar scent from before spoiled her indulgent moment. She wrinkled her nose, as the scent brashly overwhelmed the strawberry fragrance. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the bakery. That Cassiel lady doesn't seem to be here anymore, so that stench can't be from her. The culprit must've brushed against her and rubbed that horrendous smell onto her. Losing her appetite, Abigail abandoned the last, sweet morself of cake, though it pained her somewhat. Licking a subtle smear of smooth frosting from her lips, she approached a counter to notify someone in charge of her free order. The closer she came, the more intoxicating the smell became. It wasn't revolting, as in the case of body odor and poor hygiene. Rather, the smell was infused with an overwhelming emotion, like fear or stress. Abigail strained her concentration, resisting the urge to ravenously hunt this person down and strangle some sense into them.

All the wafting tendrils of the scent gathered to a single point---the counter. Keeping as much distance from the counter without drawing any further attention, Abigail firmly planted her feet an arm's length away. Not wanting to unnecessarily inhale the stetch while speaking, she simply waited until the staff at the counter would notice her silent presence. This is it. This is where that smell is coming from.

“To go, thanks dear.” She replied.

Green eyes met her blue ones, and she found herself staring at them. Ah, green eyes. How lovely, she thought. That bit of green gave a bit of colour to her drab outfit. She wouldn't mind staring into those pretty eyes while having another type of fun. Although Lydia wanted to stay and find out more about the intriguing scents, she was one of the youngest, and in being one, she knew that Ephraim was still worried about her self control. Never wanting to give Ephraim a reason to exclude her from the Coven, she took extra care that she abided by the rules. The bakery was just too much of a temptation for now.

What a pity, perhaps I will come by another time to visit.

The woman with orange hair passed behind the one who was attending her, and she relished in her scent as she passed by. Really, these scents were out of this world. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it's not like the two were whispering to begin with. So, she goes by Dess? When the dark haired girl in front of her, Dess, turned her head to the side, Lydia licked her lips subtly. The small motion had the woman’s neck exposed, and it was just so tempting. The vampire found herself leaning forward, her hand reaching out towards the exposed piece of pale flesh. She could already imagine herself sinking her fangs into the pulsing artery.

Only when the woman turned back to face her did Lydia’s eyes dart back to the girl’s green ones. Realizing her blunder, Lydia smiled sweetly, her arm continuing to extend and softly brushed her dark hair behind her ear. Poor girl, she must have been so confused. Well, at least it was someone as beautiful as her rather than a creepy dirty homeless man off the street. In fact, the woman was rather lucky to have someone as stunning as Lydia touch her.

“My apologies, I was just thinking that your hair looked so very soft.” She said with a chuckle.

Lydia took the cupcake from the woman and left her a ten dollar bill. The remainder was intended for the woman as a tip. The vampire let out a small sigh of relief; she didn't end up devouring the woman.

Now, now Lydia, you mustn't disappoint. She told herself.

She had noticed that Abigail was throwing a bit of a tantrum, but had seemed to calm down once she had received her cake. Strangely, the young one came over to the counter. Lydia looked at her curiously, but shrugged. Whether or not Abigail could handle herself was up to her, but she herself was not going to risk her sanity in this shop of temptations. Lydia turned on her heel, and as she passed by Abigail she leaned in quickly to give a small peck on the girl’s cheek; just another act of affection that she knew drove the girl crazy. Without giving the young vampire time to react, Lydia headed straight for the table where Ephraim and Arya were seated.

“I’ll be heading out now.” She said to them sweetly.

Really, the goodbye bidding was just an excuse for her next action. The pink haired vampire sneaked her way beside their leader and repeated her same small act of affection on his cheek; which she knew he found just as lovable as Virgil.

It wasn’t until she retreated from the little kiss before the scent of the waiter caught her senses. She was so very glad her Coven was here. It pressured her more to not mess up. Taking a quick look at the male she gave him a flirty smile as she stood next to him. He was taller than her, a trait she liked in men. Her hand caressed his cheek and lightly tugged his face lower.

"Would you like a kiss as well, darling?" She said with a sweet voice.

It wasn't a question she was waiting to have answered; she leaned in and placed her soft lips on his cheek - that was all she was going to do in front of Ephraim. He must already be mentally rolling his eyes. Mmm, they all smell so delightful. If only I could taste them. Lydia smiled and patted the boy's cheek.

"Ta ta now." She said before her heels took her out the door. Once outside, she bit into the delicious cupcake, licking the frosting off her lips.

---

"And for you ma'am, what would you like this evening?"

Arya had barely paid any attention to her surroundings or to Ephraim as he spoke. Her mind had gathered and comprehended it, and she would make the right response, but her conscious thought was elsewhere. She found herself wondering yet again about Lilith, and where she was, what she was doing....why she was late.

Until of course words interrupted those thoughts. Very human, and very male words. In a flash, Arya, forgetting where she was, what she was doing, and who she was supposed to be, turned a sharp yellow glare on the man who had spoken to her. Indeed, there was obvious murderous intent in her eerie yellow eyes as she stared the man down. But it was all gone within the space of a second, if that. The man would probably never take notice, believing he had wrongly interpreted her. Ephraim, on the other hand....

But then Arya was not known for her jolly temper and gracious moods. Recomposing herself, she gave the waiter a smile and simply said, "Tea, please. White Ivory, if you have it. If not, whatever is your best." Her voice was silky, smooth like chocolate. How she hated acting. What a part of her wouldn't give to simply sink her fangs into every one of these pathetic insects' necks, and make Ephraim watch. And then she'd kill him, too.

Again her attention was caught by something other than her thoughts. This time, it was laughter. Some of the human patrons to the cafe were laughing at a man outside, who was getting back up on his feet. "What an idiot, he just ran into a pole!" Arya was about to completely ignore it, when someone moved and she saw who it was they were laughing at. She couldn't help but grin. "Oh look, it would seem Morgan has found his way here as well...though he seems to have had almost as much trouble as our little Abigail did with getting into the building." However, Morgan did not enter the building, but instead simply walked past it, with barely an upward glance, book in hand, bored expression on her face. That made Arya frown. It would have put her in a somewhat better mood if he had come in. At least then she would have someone to poke and prod. She sighed, putting her chin in her hand, watching Ephraim fly through a crossword puzzle. How boring.

Nickolas kept thinking of the embarrassment and shame he felt having someone else do the list. He was content until he saw a girl with red hair step in front of him, it was Cassie. "O-Of course I can." he said while she was leaving then let out a sigh as he made his way to the counter. He looked around and made sure nothing was amis in the bakery.

He watched the strange group of people in the cafe wondering why the males would be in a place like this. He loved it but than again most people thought he was weird, and he was considering he hated loud noises and was as shy as he was with his build. He guessed it had to do with the beautiful women they were with. He sighed wondering how far he would go for love as he checked the display case to make
sure there weren't any missing spots.

He then looked up seeing a girl by the counter. She was quite pretty but he sensed a strange presense about the girl as he looked at her eyes. "Y-yes ma'am may I help you?" He asked trying ton conjure up enough courage to at least look brave.
(Sorry I'm currently writing on my phone so excuse the short post/grammar)

(P.S sorry if I missed someone in the tags)

Abigail's nose twitched. The scent had intensified. The waiter's words were heavily laced with anxiety. Briefly surveying him, she concluded that his lack of presence and confidence only magnified his inferiority. Abigail entertained the idea of hungrily feeding on him, her body savagely hunched over his paling, motionless body, draining every crimson drop of life from him as his pupils contracted. She could eradicate such a meek existence, silently dragging him into an eternal slumber of darkness, and no one would notice. Unlike other vampires who enjoyed the rush and exhilaration of brutally tearing through their prey, Abigail fed with indifference. She neither cared nor relished for her victims. Humans were simply a source of vital nutrients to sustain her existence. Although comprising her quiet, reserved nature was displeasing, the rewards of giving into her ravenous state seemed most favorable. The youthful waiter could supply her with enough fresh blood to relieve her appetite for several days, perhaps a couple weeks. However, as a member of the coven, such violation of Ephraim's standard rules would ultimately lead to unforgiving consequences. The young vampire shuddered at the thought.

Such calculations remained unknown to the potential prey standing before Abigail, her cold, grey-tinted eyes deceiving all. Opening her mouth to speak, Abigail's mouth remained agape, as Lydia---a fellow vampire---pecked her cheek with a kiss. Fuming with baffled frustration, she remained frozen in place, her reeling mind still registering what exactly had happened. Abigail's flustered face blushed further, as she turned her attention back to the waiter behind the counter, realizing he had witnessed such an event. Recollecting her placid demeanor, Abigail finally replied to him, internally promising Lydia well-deserved vengeance.

"My waitress, Cassiel, claimed my order is free of charge," she informed him, glancing at the name tag pinned to his uniform. Without any further exchange of words, Abigail spun on her heels and curtly exited the bakery, locks of sheen, black hair cascading down her back.

The glass doors closing behind her, Abigail inhaled a deep breath of refreshing, night air. She noticed the familiar waitress conversing with Virgil---another vampire of the coven---though heeding nothing of it. As she calmly strolled down the sidewalk and past rows of humble shops and restaurants, her mind itched with uncertainty. Such a horrid stench of weakness, surely she hadn't missed it, right? Clearly the smell bothered her enough to provoke an abandonment of her usual quiet behavior. She tried to appreciate her freedom from it but couldn't clear her mind. How could something be so disgusting and tempting? Irritated by her waste of energy into such persistent thoughts, Abigail decided to roam the shopping district for awhile and distract herself with a prey to satisfy her hunger.

Nickolas watched the girl's eyes as they started to narrow onto him, less of a girl looking at a boy but more of which a hungry dog looks at a piece of meat, aggressive and merciless. He back up a bit and listened as she spoke. "Um alright then." he said not caring whether it was true or not.

The second she walked away he regretted it knowing she may be lying. He was about to call out to her but she was already gone. He swore under his breath and let out a deep breath as to calm himself. "You're alright You're Alright" he repeated in his head as he knew that worse case scenario he would have to pay for it and it couldn't be that much only a few dollars at most. He smiled softly and continued to check the case.