[ wouldn't it? elena says nothing at first, because she's not entirely sure herself. some days she's thought she's not so different at all past the hunger, past the emotions threatening to explode out of her. not so different because the girl she is and was is still present, still here, strained and struggling but here. not so different because these urges, these feelings; they've been here all along, buried and tempered and now brought to life.
the added bloodlust is just a reflection of that.
she says nothing, tucks hair behind her ear, and looks to the ground. ] More. [ her desires, her grief, frustration and anger -- it's all more. she places her cup down and moves closer, licks her lips; this conversation is a bit private. she looks up at sam. ] I want... more, I feel more. Everything can be so vivid and intense. Overwhelming. I can feel... out of control and powerful all at once and there's a part of me that wants not to care. [ to take what she wants. blood. it's all she thinks about. ]