[color=0072bc][h1]Joryldin Nailo[/h1][/color]

	It was all just too much. The music, the people, the alcohol, [i]the blood...[/i] Joryldin's senses were being assaulted from every angle. He'd never seen such a proud display of luxury and debauchery, neither when he was on his own nor after the widow took him in. It was nauseating. To make matters worse, all the other vampires were so welcoming! He expected most to scoff at a newly turned, or just refuse to interact with him entirely, and he would have preferred it that way! Instead, most welcomed the young man with open arms. They invited him to join in on their drinking, dancing, and merrymaking, but he politely declined. This was wrong, [i]everything[/i] about him being here was so wrong! Why was everyone celebrating slavery? Why was everyone so damn happy about spending eternity without anything to fight for?
	It might have sounded silly, or even downright treasonous to some, but those were the questions plaguing Joryldin. They were... until the hunger set in. Unbeknownst to his mother, Joryldin hadn't fed in two days. The mere act of sustaining this new form of his disgusted Joryldin, so he had made the terrible habit of waiting until the last moment to satiate his needs. Right now, the revelry was calling to every fiber of his being. The smell of blood hit his nose like sweet honey. It was intoxicating, and Joryldin shuddered in ecstasy at the mere olfactory sensation.
 
[color=0072bc]"Oh god... I've got to get out of here!"[/color] He thought to himself.

	It took all his strength to turn around, dash to somewhere private, and calm down. Joryldin had no choice. He needed [i]something[/i] or he was going to lose his mind. Of course, he was resourceful if nothing else, and came prepared. The young man set down his duffel bag behind a statue near the edge of the courtyard and opened up one of the side pockets. A set of vials sparkled in the darkness, each filled to the top with the red nectar he needed. They were from Miss Theresa, his mother's current partner. After his transformation, he was never able to gather the courage to bite her, even with both the widow's encouragement and her own. To keep him fed, they simply kept bottles. These vials were for emergencies only, but for Joryldin this was most certainly an emergency. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tipped his head back, trying to ensure he tasted as little of it as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, Joryldin noticed someone else had already claimed this hiding spot, an intimidating human with messy hair and a crumpled up letter. This momentary distraction was enough for him to lower his head a bit just as the blood poured out into his mouth, making full contact with his tongue. 
	Joryldin violently shivered as the mind-shattering pleasure hit him in waves. He stumbled back, then simply sat down on the ground. Why did it have to taste so good? Why did it have to [i]feel[/i] so good? It was the worst ecstasy, the most miserable satisfaction. He felt vile and wonderful all at the same time, and somebody saw the whole thing!

[color=0072bc]"I'm s-sorry you had to see that."[/color]
Joryldin got to his feet and slapped on a ballcap hidden in his bag to cover his eyes.
[color=0072bc]"I didn't think there would be anybody back here... I'm Joryldin. Nice to meet you."[/color]
It was most certainly not nice. He felt ashamed of himself, and the dim grey glow in his eyes betrayed him completely.

[@Scribe of Thoth]