Snippet #1029395

Lilliannia stood outside the house. She refused to believe that it was her instinct to follow daemons here, and denied to herself that the scent of blood was what made her stay. It had been some time since she had seen any people. She silently moved closer to the house, watching the humans. HUmans? She almost slapped herself, since when had she stopped thinking of herself as a human? She was still a person. Blood boiled within her and she tried to calm down. She would not let it escape, not again. Especially around survivors. Ignoring the temptation of blood and flesh, that overpowering human presence, Lilliannia cautiously entered the house and followed the voices that were coming from the stairs. She sensed something else; it gave a light burn at the back of her throat, and every cell in her body was drawing away from it. Insect repellent. She wondered whether or not daemons knew why they had such a bad reaction to it. It didn't affect her as much as it did them, but it was still enough to hurt like hell. She didn't know what to do, should she call out, say that she was there, give them a warning. SHould she just stroll up the stair and be all 'hey what's up'? Or should she turn and walk away. The latter seemed like the one she should do. BUt it had been so long since any interaction with people, and she was yearning for company. Maybe if she stayed with someone, if she surrounded herself in humanity, it would keep hers. Sighing she took a breathe, and one at a time stepped upo a stair. How would they react to her? Would they know what she was? Tilting her head around so she could see the small group, she thought too late now.
"Hey." Even she could hear the echo behind her voice. She stared at someone dressed in miltary and two girls. She really hated uniforms, particularly military. It was them and us, black and white, nothing could be inbetween. She really hope he wasn't one of those. And the girls, well hopefully the screwed up world hadn't destroyed sympathy and empathy, because sometimes if you wanted to survive, those two things, natural characteristics of human, had to go. That's how messed up things were. Feeling sorry for someone crying on the street could get you killed. Pausing to ask if an elderly man or a little child was all right very well may end with you, in pieces across two or three streets. So, Lilliannia waited patiently for a reaction, any kind of reaction.