In a lot of ways, being a vamp isn’t much different from being human. You still have the same cliques and problems that you do as humans – they just include death and carnage a bit more often when you’re a vamp.
Case in point – the old-school vamps. Now, I’m all in favour of people dressing in the old fashions or believing in the old ways, or even, in a sense, practising them, so long as no humans are actually killed from been fed on.
Surprised? Well, I don’t think every vamp has to be the same. I realize that we’re all different, and that’s what makes us special. As gross as I find human blood, well, the fewer vamps who are frequenting my butchers, the more non-human blood there is for me.
And yes, it’s quite possible for a vamp to feed and not kill. Some vamps that are really concerned about hurting the humans will just feed off a few humans, in small amounts. It doesn’t hurt the humans, unless the vamp chooses to make it hurt – it feels like a hickey, which few humans seem to mind.
Anyhow, what I’m trying to get is just how tough it can be, being a vamp, in today’s society. It’s bad enough that humans erroneously think we’re only after their blood, but on top of that, there’s all this stupid pettiness and competition amongst the different vamps, too.
Think of how we could change things if we worked together! This site is just the start; we could have information sessions and parades and whatever, all to help humans understand us better. It worked for the gays and lesbians in the city, all because they came together and made the effort.
Instead, we have to compete with one another, and it’s awful and just leads to even greater division and competition.
*sigh* Sorry, I get kinda frustrated with this stuff. It’d be great if we could be different, but united… but we’re not, and I should just learn to accept that, I guess. But I just want to say, we fight on so many fronts already. Is it really a good idea to fight amongst ourselves?
I hit post and sent today’s rant/post off to my site, “Vamp Notes.” I’d started the site a little before the blog craze, initially to write about my daily life and thoughts. Because of its vamp perspective, it really took off in the Otherworld Underworld, and since then it’s become a real resource for Otherworlders and humans alike.
This entry was obviously heavily influenced by Chip’s news, although it was one I’d had in mind for a little while now. The in-fighting between all the camps, Weres, wee folk, ghouls and so on had always bothered me – at least, once I got turned and became directly thrust into the midst of it.
I closed my laptop and crossed the room to pick up the phone. I hit redial and called up Steve. I figured the odds were pretty good he’d be awake, especially after Chip’s news. We hadn’t spoken much on the walk home, each of us lost in our own thoughts, but now that I’d had some time t think and write, I was ready to talk it over.
Steve paced the length of his apartment. This close to the full moon, he was always full of restless energy to begin with, and after learning Louisa’s ex- was in town, well… it would be ridiculous to expect him to simply relax and rest somewhere.
Not that Louisa had any idea of the feelings she engendered in her male friends. Chip, Steve himself, even Dante, all had a soft spot for her. And those were merely the ones that Steve knew well. There was no telling what other guys around the city harboured protective instincts – and other, less noble feelings – for her.
As he paced, he thought about what he’d heard Chip say, as well as what he’d whispered to Steve later – namely that word had it Dante wasn’t anywhere near over Louisa and hoped to use whatever this big plan was to win her back. Needless to say, it was this news that was really chafing Steve’s ass – although the extra hair he was sprouting thanks to it being “that time of the month” wasn’t helping, either.
Although he didn’t make it readily known, Steve was a member of Weres Who Care, a Were organization dedicated t helping Weres gain control or achieve balance with the wolf within. Steve was actually one of the founding members, after meeting up with some like-minded Weres in the North. He had travelled as far North as he could to try to keep away from humans – he had grown tired of locking himself up, and wanted to be somewhere he could be free and safe.
He never told Louisa about what happened those months he was away. All she knew was that he came back more settled, more comfortable with himself, and with the ability to control whether or not he changed with the full mon. He didn’t have as much control over some of the other aspects – in the days leading up, he found his body hair grew faster and thicker, and he was more energetic and short-tempered – but the rest he had control over. It was with Weres Who Care (a name Louisa chose and Steve hated, but kept to make her happy) that Steve and the other members hoped to teach the same control to other Weres. These meetings were absolutely off-limits to anyone but Weres, and they moved about the city to help keep them private.
Steve’s pacing slowed slightly as he thought of WWC, and he calmed down somewhat. He walked over to his couch and sat down, staring unseeing at the television set currently playing the local news.
Like many Otherworlders, Steve’s apartment was plain almost to the point of being stark, and fairly spartan in its furnishings. Most Otherworlders tended to spend most of their time out of doors or at various group gathering places – Skippy and Marcus being notable exceptions to this rule – and as a result, did not invest much time, energy, or money in decorating. Although this city is pretty tolerant of Otherworlders, there were some with a fondness for torching Otherworld dwellings, so the fewer possessions, the better, most found.
Steve’s apartment contained a double bed replete with manacles at all four posts – and whenever Louisa inquired as to why he needed manacles if he had control over his wolf side, he merely responded with a lascivious wink or an evasive but suggestive, “Well, I never know when I might need them” – the couch on which he was currently seated, a television, and the standard appliances, most of which were dusty from lack of use.
The refrigerator and freezer were kept well-stocked with meat, both raw and frozen. One Were predilection Steve could never seem to shake was a hunger for raw meat, and he long ago gave up trying to fight it. He kept a few spices and a great deal of hot sauce in his cupboards, but otherwise is place was just like any other bachelor’s pad.
The walls of his place were bare, but for a simple clock, and he had heavy curtains on all of the windows. Much of his furniture consisted of rough boards of wood and cinderblocks; these represented his bookcases, his television stand and his dresser. Louisa had often given him a hard time about this – her furniture pieces were all matched and of high quality – but as he argued, he spent most of his time in his apartment with his eyes closed, so what did he care about his decorations?
It was as he was sitting, reflecting on his boring apartment, that the phone rang. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and walked across the room to lift his cell phone from where he always left it when he was home, on top of the television.
The call display showed Louisa’s number, so he didn’t hesitate to answer. There was very little that Steve could refuse Louisa, although he’d rather chew his own leg off than let her or anyone else know; it kept her safer that way.