It had been years, at the least, since he’d needed a name. Sighing, he looked along the row of books, trying to find something, anything, that felt right. After all the time he’d spent looking at the names of authors it was the name of a published that felt right. Lox published speculative fiction and he didn’t doubt that on some other world he would be one of the creatures that was written about. Vampires shouldn’t exist, they were immortal beings that drank blood to survive which didn’t make any real sense, but they did. He’d been one for centuries and it never got any easier. That was why he was heading to the donor house.
Lox’s problem had been his name. Over the years he’d changed his name more times than he could remember, in part so his creator would never find him, but it had been too easy to forget all of them while he was wandering. He looked one last time at the books on the shelf, just in case there was something more normal that stood out, before leaving the shop. The donor house wasn’t far away, which was good because his clothes had seen better days and it was cold, but he didn’t have any money to purchase anything else. Money hadn’t been important while he was wandering.
Maybe they wouldn’t let someone who looked homeless into the donor house. Lox didn’t know. All he knew was that he needed something more than he had, even though it had been nice not to have to deal with other vampires. His only real option seemed to be the donor house and he hoped they would understand why he didn’t look particularly… he looked down at himself, trying to find the word to describe how he looked. Grubby, unkempt, as though he hadn’t had new clothes or a haircut in longer than anyone really should go without either. It was likely he didn’t smell very nice either, but he’d got used to it.
When Lox finally got to the door of the house he stared at it for a long time. He didn’t want to step into the building and find himself turned away, but he wouldn’t know what they were going to do until he opened the door. Maybe he’d get lucky, for the first time since he woke up a vampire. It was the cold that finally convinced him to open the door. During his wanderings he hadn’t felt the cold, because he’d made certain to feed regularly, and since he’d left that all behind he’d found it harder to find animals to feed from. Breathing deeply he stepped into the house, hoping that someone would give him a chance to explain why he looked the way he did.
After taking a couple of steps into the reception room Lox found himself staring at the receptionist, certain that he recognised her, and when she looked up at him he was certain he did. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice full of the same concern that had filled her voice when he walked away from everything.
Mirrored from K. A. Jones Writing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}