Lost in the Mists

Saima's Journal: Maneater

In any other place, the sight of a pale, young, white haired woman walking home through the streets, covered in blood, with a glaive slung across her shoulders, would be cause for alarm. But here in Ravenloft, no one even gives me a second glance.

Dammit. The blood stains will never come out of this dress. What a waste of time constructing it was.

I was so angry earlier. Just so angry at this place and the way it tortures us. I felt like I was losing my mind. Of course, when Lestin and the other revelers showed up, proclaiming that they only wanted to share the joy of the Feasting Lord, I knew they were trailing some fresh new horror with them, but an old part of me remembered what it was like to celebrate, to get dressed up and go to a party. And while I should have been investigating the newcomers, I instead went home, tore down my curtains and sewed together a party dress.

What a fool I am. Now I don’t even have any damn curtains.

The rage and taste for blood that has been building inside me finally broke free when the fight with the three priests began. Dayan revealed himself to be a vampire and called to me. I admit, part of me wanted to go to him, like he was the family I had lost so long ago. I resisted. I guess I am not that far gone yet. There was blood everywhere, my head felt like it was on fire. I drank from at least of two of them and it was glorious. When I found Lestin’s bag of children bones, my vision turned black. I would have drank him dry if Goodman hadn’t stopped me. And at that moment, with my stomach rolling with their vile blood, all the rage melted from me.

Of course, we still had to dispatch of the rest of the Feasting Lords followers. After that was done, I spent the long walk home alone, thinking about how was I losing it. God, that night I went after Barlow… what if I am a danger to my companions? They are the closest thing to friends I have here.

I am afraid. Afraid of what I am becoming. Afraid for my daughter, if she is alive. And now, I am afraid to look in the mirror. Today when I came home and washed the blood off my face, something about my appearance caught me off-guard. Its nearly imperceptible; I had to get close to see it, but its there.

There are now tiny specks of red in the blue of my eyes.



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