EX FVMO // DEMETRI VOLTURI

Wanderers

To wander; what an intriguing concept. To roam the Earth with no destination, goal, or target. An aimless force of nature with no purpose, going forward merely for lack of alternative — for where else would it go? There is nowhere else. Humans run, and they run right into Death's eager arms. They have no other option but to throw themselves into her cold embrace. They know it, and what a comfort to know exactly where you are going. To be certain.

Immortals — they walk.

Shrouded by the shadows of the night, they walk resolutely to nowhere.

Through the dark, they wander.

sine duce, per tenebras errant

The screams were always background noise. Like the knife meeting the plate, or the sound of chewing. The clinking of cups. They were louder, for sure, but they were also remarkably briefer — a few seconds at most. The humans barely had time to take notice of their deaths, only catching a glimpse of the brink of the precipice before being thrown over its edge. They fell so quickly... the pain would barely start and then it was over. They were gone, their existence as ephemeral as the sighting of a falling star, and most of them not nearly as captivating. Little flies falling at their feet, dry and useless.

Their souls should rejoice. They have arrived. Their bodies served a purpose, and now they may rest.

Their culprits will keep wandering.

They were made to hunt, these deadly creatures. During those thrilling moments, they had an objective; a purpose. Their ageless bodies were weapons they could finally use, and their prey was a much-needed target. Seek, find, consume. Rinse and repeat.

Fulfilling. Satisfying in its simplicity.

Demetri's experience was vastly different from others of his kind and very much the same in essence. His gift allowed him to seek much more efficiently, but it also made it all the more necessary. He ached to search, and he could hardly settle, always anxious for the next goal, always itching for the next target. The next human to drink, the next lawbreaker to bring to justice.

The next lover to conquer.

Target found; eyes locked, quest initiated.

He was patient. On such occasions, walking was not enough. There was a finesse required, a certain technique to be employed. To learn what type of prey had been found, to decide what approach to take, which deck to play; it was all part of the fun.

On such occasions, he waltzed.

And he had plenty of memorised choreographies to choose from. He had centuries to learn, adapt, and polish his steps. Granted — choosing was not always easy. He had grown picky over time. After a certain number of adventures, the experiences began to repeat themselves. He had to filter, to be creative - being the one choosing had its downsides.

There had been one occasion when his target had chosen him instead, one time when he was starstruck from the moment he laid eyes on her...

He tried to never think of it.

He usually succeeded, too, being such a busy guard. Always needed, barely ever home. The constant focus required for his pursuits kept his mind occupied enough to prevent any type of reminiscing on most days. Yet, he would still think of her from time to time.

Not too often, though.

Until, of course, she stepped inside his home. Reborn. Human.

Undetectable.

He halted. Target recovered, eyes locked, quest resumed.

He was starstruck.

You're not escaping me now.