[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/o8S0PbF.png[/img][/center]
[right][b][color=00bfff]Time:[/color][/b] Night
[b][color=00bfff]Location:[/color][/b] Ember Grove Park
[b][color=00bfff]Interactions:[/color][/b] None
[b][color=00bfff]Vibes:[/color][/b] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53GIADHxVzM]“Most days I don’t recognize me…”[/url][/right]
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Leilani plodded through the park, her steps slowly becoming more and more of a shuffle.  Mindlessly, she tightened her grip on the thick, twin size quilt around her shoulders. Made up of blue and pink patterned patches, it provided little warmth to an eternally frozen body, and no semblance of comfort. That being said, it would make a perfect buffer between her skin and the irritating blades of grass. Picking a random spot beneath a birch tree, she laid out the blanket, tugging at the corners and smoothing the surface to ensure there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. A breeze was nowhere to be found, so she didn’t bother to hunt for rocks to prevent the corners from peeling up. Settling down onto the quilt at last, she folded her legs neatly together, tucking her hands into her lap and releasing a deep sigh.

If she were still human, she would’ve described the moment as blissful. Eerily silent perhaps, but certainly calming. 

She was [i]not[/i] a human though. And silence was no longer a reality to her. Even now, she could hear the buzz of some grouping of insects a distance away, the rustling of rabbits as they disturbed the grass. The fall of a pine cone off a nearby tree. Her serenity was disrupted. Torn asunder by her new, heightened awareness. 

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been complaining. After all, she had been given a month to adjust. It wasn’t as if she were making zero progress. At first, she had been so overwhelmed she could barely leave her home on the estate. Now she could at least wander. Still, it managed to irk her.  Not that she ever expressed this to the other members of her…[i]clan[/i]. She did her best to act content around them. It was the least she could do, seeing as they had adopted her, after her sire had abandoned her on their doorstep like a defenseless babe in a basket.

Shaking her head, she struggled to clear her mind. Overthinking her issues wasn’t what she was there for. She had come to the park for a purpose, one that didn’t involve the relentless scratching in her throat and the emptiness in her gut. 

Reaching into the satchel that was secured around her shoulder, she pushed aside the ration she had taken earlier and dug for her sketchbook. Taking it out alongside a charcoal pencil, she settled it in her lap and began flipping through the pages. The sketchbook was in great condition despite being almost two years old, each finished artwork painstakingly laminated to preserve the design etched on the thick paper. Finally, Leilani came across a blank page. 

This was why she had traveled to the park in the middle of the night. She wished to restore her muse, which had died out in the past month. It was an irritating cycle. Every time she attempted to start a piece, she found herself drawing blanks, and ultimately ended up setting her pencil down or snapping it in an accidental showing of frustration. She could only hope that tonight would be different. The longer she went without her outlet, the more exhausted and angry she felt.

Holding her pencil delicately, she stared out into her surroundings, trying to feel the way she used to. She reminded herself that there were no expectations. That she was doing this for herself. She pushed at the block in her mind, disappointment filling her as she realized that there was nothing there. 

She continued this for another ten minutes, at the very least. She tried closing her eyes, humming a tune, drawing random lines on her paper. She just couldn’t inspire herself. The longer she tried, the more persistent the scratching at her throat became. Finally, she pushed aside her sketchbook and replaced the pencil in her hand with a blood ration. Her fangs came out of their own volition, and she downed the thick, red liquid with a soft groan. It was the only thing that could satisfy her anymore, as one would expect. Not even sour candy packed the same punch. 

She wiped at her lips, then brought her hand to her mouth in order to lap up any blood residue on the back of her fist. Sighing at her lack of control, she put everything back into her bag, rose to her feet, collected her blanket, and began wandering back in the direction of her car. 

A bust. That’s what the night had been. She wasn’t sure if she’d try again the next evening.