Was it supposed to end up like it did now? For that, Jerome never had an answer. He was to be an important heir, one who'd continue his family's name with pride. His future supposed to be already written! Nothing ever made him suspect that the situation could change so drastically, it was hard to believe even for his family members. He was busted alright, and can never turn back to what was before.
Estranged by his family, he ended up on the streets. Through various connections, he still kept alive somehow, but he knew it couldn't continue that way. He knew that the curse upon him should be lifted as fast as possible, so he would be able to gain back his status. However, he didn't know how; didn't know how to love or more importantly, whom to love. Being betrayed by his own family, it wasn't easy to trust once more. And without trust, no relationship could be established.
It's been month now since the last time he drunk someone's blood. He survived by drinking liquids that were chemically made similar to blood, but it was clear from the very beginning that it wasn't close to enough. It made him sick; so sick that no one was willing to take him under their wing, even only to give him a place to stay. He didn't belong no where, his whole surrounding seemed to make him understand that very fact he could never change. What's left for him was only to find comfort in drugs, or falling into despair.
He chose both.
Soon, the money given to him was all gone used up, and Jerome could be found in the alleys of the forgotten, of the criminals. At day times, he often strolls around in London, doing small criminal acts to keep living. Nighttimes, he'll be with drug dealers, getting his portions for the day or when without money, he'll lie around in the darkest corner and slept there. Nevertheless of this condition, where everyone might think his pride is long gone, he still held onto his survival. Fought his way so that he was respected in the alley where he stayed even though it cost him some blood. For those fights, he used much of his power, although secretive so that no one noticed. Humans were still oblivious about the existence of vampires, and Jerome liked to keep it that way. It was a duty of his family that he still did; despite never receiving any recognition from anyone.
Jerome was alone... and on the brink of death. He almost used all the produced, false blood up.
Of course there was a possibility to get some again, but in his state where the drugs clouded his mind and weakened his physic, he couldn't possibly sneak in with a chance of survival. It was simply impossible, and Jerome knew that.
Upon the question whether he became reconciled to the thought of his death being near, he would just chuckle. He wasn't a man who gave up, as he stubbornly hung to the living. Therefore while trying hard to get rid of his habit of taking drugs; he now strolled around in the city not only to do some pick pocketing, but also to find someone. Someone that might intrigue him and give what he needed to climb back onto his throne.
'Only three packages left' With a rough irritation, he had to discern that he merely had three weeks to live when he didn't get another load of false blood soon. And the possibility to get them was near to impossible. In fact, the attempt can even be considered as suicide. With an angry grumble, he smashed the little box where he placed all his valuable stuff (which weren't much) shut and ceased it so no thief shall find it in the darkness. Then he left his "house" that consist of a tent with holes, an umbrella as roof and a blanket surround it, and went into the direction of the city.
Of course he didn't come unprepared. His hair was done as good as possible and his clothes won't ever show that he was homeless. In fact, it might even tell that he was from a wealthy house (which in the other hand wasn't only an illusion). He couldn't possibly show his face on public wearing clothes of the homeless, his pride wouldn't allow it despite everything he had been through. And plus, he was there to find someone he can consider as lover after all; and he was in conviction that it was a rich and handsome man that any woman would want. Or so is his understanding from his experiences.
With no restrains and open mind he walked down the streets of London, greeting people here and there with a smile until arriving at a park. There he sat down below a tree, observing kids playing on the lawn. The sun shone strongly down to him, it almost killed him. He needed a pause, very much.
Estranged by his family, he ended up on the streets. Through various connections, he still kept alive somehow, but he knew it couldn't continue that way. He knew that the curse upon him should be lifted as fast as possible, so he would be able to gain back his status. However, he didn't know how; didn't know how to love or more importantly, whom to love. Being betrayed by his own family, it wasn't easy to trust once more. And without trust, no relationship could be established.
It's been month now since the last time he drunk someone's blood. He survived by drinking liquids that were chemically made similar to blood, but it was clear from the very beginning that it wasn't close to enough. It made him sick; so sick that no one was willing to take him under their wing, even only to give him a place to stay. He didn't belong no where, his whole surrounding seemed to make him understand that very fact he could never change. What's left for him was only to find comfort in drugs, or falling into despair.
He chose both.
Soon, the money given to him was all gone used up, and Jerome could be found in the alleys of the forgotten, of the criminals. At day times, he often strolls around in London, doing small criminal acts to keep living. Nighttimes, he'll be with drug dealers, getting his portions for the day or when without money, he'll lie around in the darkest corner and slept there. Nevertheless of this condition, where everyone might think his pride is long gone, he still held onto his survival. Fought his way so that he was respected in the alley where he stayed even though it cost him some blood. For those fights, he used much of his power, although secretive so that no one noticed. Humans were still oblivious about the existence of vampires, and Jerome liked to keep it that way. It was a duty of his family that he still did; despite never receiving any recognition from anyone.
Jerome was alone... and on the brink of death. He almost used all the produced, false blood up.
Of course there was a possibility to get some again, but in his state where the drugs clouded his mind and weakened his physic, he couldn't possibly sneak in with a chance of survival. It was simply impossible, and Jerome knew that.
Upon the question whether he became reconciled to the thought of his death being near, he would just chuckle. He wasn't a man who gave up, as he stubbornly hung to the living. Therefore while trying hard to get rid of his habit of taking drugs; he now strolled around in the city not only to do some pick pocketing, but also to find someone. Someone that might intrigue him and give what he needed to climb back onto his throne.
••••• x •••••
'Only three packages left' With a rough irritation, he had to discern that he merely had three weeks to live when he didn't get another load of false blood soon. And the possibility to get them was near to impossible. In fact, the attempt can even be considered as suicide. With an angry grumble, he smashed the little box where he placed all his valuable stuff (which weren't much) shut and ceased it so no thief shall find it in the darkness. Then he left his "house" that consist of a tent with holes, an umbrella as roof and a blanket surround it, and went into the direction of the city.
Of course he didn't come unprepared. His hair was done as good as possible and his clothes won't ever show that he was homeless. In fact, it might even tell that he was from a wealthy house (which in the other hand wasn't only an illusion). He couldn't possibly show his face on public wearing clothes of the homeless, his pride wouldn't allow it despite everything he had been through. And plus, he was there to find someone he can consider as lover after all; and he was in conviction that it was a rich and handsome man that any woman would want. Or so is his understanding from his experiences.
With no restrains and open mind he walked down the streets of London, greeting people here and there with a smile until arriving at a park. There he sat down below a tree, observing kids playing on the lawn. The sun shone strongly down to him, it almost killed him. He needed a pause, very much.