[center][img]http://i845.photobucket.com/albums/ab20/XxKayla36xX/Trixy.png[/img][/center]
[i]“I was turned.”[/i]  Bartholomew admitted somewhat uncomfortably. Trixy wondered what bothered him more: the question itself, or the implication of it? [i]“Against my will, but when the other choice was dying, I fought to survive. I don’t think the monster that attacked me was looking to make a new wolf, but here I am. Never met the bastard who did it.”[/i]  hatred colored his words. Béatrix supposed she would be angry too… well, maybe she would be. She couldn’t imagine what life would be like without vampirism, she could hardly remember what it was like to be human. Trixy saw a blessing in eternal life where Tholo seemed to see a curse. Would she feel the same if she had been forced into it?

[i]“A pack is a rather close knit group, pretty much a family. Alpha’s have varying looks on those they lead, some see them as brothers and sisters, others as their children, some are cruel and just view them as slaves to follow them,”[/i]  he said and then added [i]“,or it’s an endearing term they could use for those they turn, again it varies from wolf to wolf.”[/i]

Béatrix nodded slowly and took another sip of whiskey. The warm amber liquid snaked down her parched throat. She probably should have been smart and went home to feed before coming here, but hindsight was always 20/20. Shutting off her humanity always awakened the bloodlust in a bad way. She felt like she could drain a whole blood bank… or Times square’s current population, depending on her mood.

“That sounds similar to sire lines for vampires. I was blessed with the vampiric bloodline I inherited. I call Francis’ sire the equivalent of grandmother in her language, because that is what she feels like, though she hardly looks a day over twenty-five.” Trixy chuckled at the the thought of the exquisitely beautiful viking vampiress that was Frida. “But others aren’t so lucky, and sires treat their childer like slaves - not as many as there once were since I took my job as a supernatural reaper.” she managed to laugh yet again. The mood seemed to be lightening, but the underlying awkward tension was still there.

Turning the attention back to Tholo, she spoke again in an attempt to get a response. “Though, no matter the relationship, a vampire always knows when their sire dies. You can feel it, and it hurts. It’s almost like losing a piece of yourself, like losing a limb… but in your soul.” Her piercing blue eyes were on him. Surely the pieces were coming together by now but, just in case they weren’t, Trixy was blunt. 

“So, did you feel it? When I tore the head from his shoulders, and the heart from his chest?” the words held more venom than she intended, but she had every right to be angry about what that monster did to her or, at the very least, the things he [i]allowed[/i]  to be done to her. “It didn’t feel like anything to me. Not victory, nor loss, but I wore his blood like war paint just the same. You smelled it on me the moment I walked in, you recognized it even though it was washed away hours ago…” But, would it ever [i]really[/i]  be washed away?

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