WHO: Stella Olemaun (Open all, tag Mick St. John) WHEN: Before Valentine's Day, twilight. WHAT: Ressurection failed, Stella Olemaun stumbles out of her apartment on to the dark streets of LA... WHERE: Stella's apartment/Somewhere on the streets of LA. RATING: TBA. STATUS: In progress.
Vampires had laid siege to their sleepy town; after raiding and fatally ravaging the populous, they’d continued their campaign of terror for thirty days of night. Stella felt a shard of fear pierce her heart as her eyes passed over the grim gaunt faces of the survivors. Fear-struck, sleep-deprived and disheartened, daylight seemed a forgotten memory of wistful eyes. She pressed her face against her husband’s chest, whether to share body warm or silent comfort, she didn’t know, but Stella was glad Eben was here.
Only took monsters and the end of the world to bring them closer together, talking again. But she didn't feel much like talking anymore, but to bask in this moment of silence, soak up the peace and store it in the dwindling reserves of her weary weathered soul...
* * *
She gasps, and awoke, the soft bed sheets and static insular warmth of the darkened room, as sharp contrast to the icy chill moments before. Breathing fire hard from her lungs, she tore at the tangle of blankets and clothing- stifling in this heat- and threw them to the floor. Light. God, she needed to see the light. Feeling her way to a light source, the illumination dawned the stark reality, Barrow was dead and gone, and with it, Eben.
She hissed, right wrist slit open, raw and aching against the air, the gelled blood sticky from hours bled, smeared and stained into the fabric of the room. As the realzation dawned over the young widow’s pained expression, her book exposing the truth about vampires had been labeled fiction, and the box containing Eben’s ashes was empty and faint carnal traces spilt across the floor; so she sunk down to grief— The ritual hadn’t worked, Dane. He hadn’t come back— and hung her pale head and wept long neglect silent tears until eyes froze again.
As she pulled her jacket closer about her neck, a stoic Stella Olemaun stepped out on to the dark streets of Los Angeles, better equipped than most to cope with the befallen endless night and the untold dangers that lurked under its sunless sky.