The story of Sir Damian Kane

For just a few heartbeats Damian was perfectly still, just enjoying the night around him. The feeling of the moonlight on his skin was calming, while his thoughts ran through his mind. This wasn’t his terrestrial body that he could see and feel. Still… it was… peculiar. Although there was no visible skin he could still feel the wind that caressed him. Although one should think that his hair was nothing more than a perfect illusion, the breeze pushed it around playfully. And just for a moment in the enjoyable silence of this night he had hoped, that this situation had some good points. But like every time since this miserable curse his hope was crushed with the next breath he took. The longer Damian sat there and watched the rising moon, the more he could feel the slight burning in his dry throat. Gnawing thirst pierced more and more in his mind an in a matter of hours he wouldn’t be able to ignore it anymore. Damian cursed the fateweaver in silence that was responsible for him, while his face only showed the thin line of his lips and the grinding of his teeth. Not only didn’t he know where he was or why he woke… he didn’t have a clue about how much time had passed since his mortal life had ended. Did days pass him? Weeks? Months? Maybe even years? Did the world chance since his death? Probably not enough. He found it disgusting – more than that… revolting. Not the taste of the blood itself – but Damian still didn’t want to feed from another human being. Not that he was considered human anymore… Monster they called him. Abomination. Devil. Abortion they spit at him, when they knocked him down. The only thing Damian had wanted was a peaceful night in the library, surrounded by books and silence. However like that fateful day a treacherous fragrance tempted him. He could almost taste the sweet scent of plasma, accompanied by the distasteful smell of alcohol. Could it be? Did a drunkard lost his way? When Damian looked around he could see a small chapel on these grounds. Maybe a chaplain who took a taste of the holy wine? It wouldn’t be the first time he was meeting someone like that. And a priest was more… pleasureable… than some boozer. God’s servants had a certain degree of hygiene and their fragrance didn’t bite as much in his nose. But for today… Damian wouldn’t be picky.