Hoods raised. No silks or golden sun discs. To the right the owner of the wrist is crumpled, small, robed like the rest. A woman. I study her aura for...a moment. Drained, exhausted, probably no permanent damage. In need of rest before being fed on again. The rest have backed off a pace and the chanting has ceased. The crackle of torches compete with the faint clash of steel far down the passageway. We stare, for a moment, me looking from hood to hood. The tension, the fear, is palpable.Another. AT THE SAME TIME FRIENDS ARE ASKING WHAT IM UP TOO AND I TELL THEM I MET A GIRL BY WORK, AND THEY ASK ABOUT HER SO I TELL THEM WHAT I WANT TO ABOUT HER. BY NOW I'M REALLY DIGGING HER, SHE FINALLY AGREED TO LET ME COME TO HER APARTMENT BEING IT WAS SO CLOSE TO MY WORK, SO AFTER WORK I CHANGED MY CLOTHES AND WENT TO HER APARTMENT COMPLEX AND FOUND HER APARTMENT, AND KNOCKED ON THE DOOR NOT KNOWING WHAT TO EXPECT IT WAS A NICE CLEAN,QUIET COMPLEX. SHE CAME TO THE DOOR SHE WAS A VERY NEAT CLEAN. More

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