With an eerie grace, she descended from the lofty perch of a gnarled tree limb, foreboding in its age and poised on the brink of decay. The ancient bough, frail and weathered, was her chosen descent into the abyss below. As she plummeted, the embrace of the aged branch gave way, and Sylvia’s ethereal form met the frigid, unyielding earth beneath. Yet, there was no gasp of surprise nor piercing scream—only the silent acknowledgment of pain and disappointment.
Pain, because even when she was a vampire by nature, Sylvia bore the weight of physical torment, an unholy communion between her immortal existence and the visceral reality of anguish. Yet, the disappointment that shadowed her was a different breed of affliction—an emotional tempest fueled by the bitter irony of her survival. She could not die and that was quite, quite disappointing for Sylvia wished to no longer exist for it seemed fun.
Her younger sister, Mina Cortes came outside and her eyes lingered at Sylvia still form on the ground with a sigh. “Father!” Mina yelled, “She has not yet left,” She yelled again and this time Sylvia could hear the thunderous voice of her kind but tired father telling her to leave to go to the academy.
It typically went like that, ever since her father had forced her to attend Astral Academy as if she was not a thousand years old and had no need for university. But she knew her father was not sending her off to university for fun or for her to learn, it was something more, because it was always something more with her undead fcked up family.
Entering her dorm room, she felt a twisted sense of comfort as her eyes drank in the familiar satanic and undead aesthetics that adorned the space. The air hung heavy with an otherworldly stillness, resonating with the essence of her kind. Sylvia’s lips curled into a sardonic smile as she beheld the familiar sight. She was not the most fond of Astral, but she sure was fond of her dorm room and the cobwebs on top that were yet to be cleaned, it reminded her of life before she was a vampire- meaning life from a very very long time ago.
Yes, Sylvia was quite old, a fact she was acutely aware of. Yet, in the twisted chronology of her undead existence, she remained, as her father often remarked, mentally young. The centuries spent ensnared in a deep slumber had preserved her mind in a state of perpetual youth, untouched by the relentless march of time. Her face, untouched by the ravages of age, bore a perpetual youthfulness that belied the weight of her ancient soul.
Disregarding the fragility of mortal belongings, Sylvia carelessly hurled her luggage onto the bed, the impact reverberating with an ominous thud. A bag, victim to her indifference, spilled its contents as the zipper surrendered to the force. A cursory glance revealed the damage, and with a nonchalant shrug, she resigned herself to the inconvenience. A new one would be acquired in due course—such trivial matters paled in significance to the tumult that coursed through her undead veins.
As she approached the window, its protest echoed in a haunting creak that seemed to harmonize with the eerie ambiance of the room. The morning sun, blinding in its brilliance, painted the world outside in hues of cruel clarity. A perverse desire for insanity, an insatiable thirst for the chaotic dance of the unknown, propelled Sylvia forward.
Without a second thought, she let herself tumble into the void, the gravitational pull of the abyss swallowing her form. Yet, just before succumbing to the inevitable plunge, she snaked her hand through the air, fingers grasping at the wisps of an ancient tree. With a silent defiance, she climbed down the gnarled trunk, her movements akin to a spider descending from its darkened lair.
Once safely on solid ground, Sylvia withdrew a cigarette from her pocket, its tip glowing like a malevolent star in the dim shadows. As the smoke curled around her, she surveyed the Astral Academy grounds with a predatory glint in her eyes. Ah, Astral Academy, good to be back for another year.
Though she refuses to admit it, she did in fact like the school and the people here were just so adorable, like rats waiting to be caged. She loved it.
Approachable