The thing about Rasheen Perpetua is this: as much as he finds it helpful when others give insight, he also likes thinking for himself.
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One might have thought that after the events from some nights ago, in which his clan was threatened and they were forced to create two groups – one to stay behind and defend, the other to lead groups of people out of the town – to ensure the survival of most, the clan could have perhaps taken measures so the event wouldn't reoccur. Maybe they'd have been enforcing security in and around their own city, keeping tabs as to who is a vampire and who is actively feeding, and seeing if anyone in a nearby town or city has the same status as them. But no. The clan simply mourned the loss of Caroline, the few who passed away doing their duty to protect the Elders or those who chose to leave, and then moved on. Simple as that, it became a thing of the past to everyone.
...everyone except for Rasheen, of course.
As much as he thinks it's pretty gnarly for there to be more clans close by to his own, it still frightens him, to put it kindly, that there are others out there with more skill than him, more experience than him, more bloodlust than him, more of an ability to kill someone innocent without blinking an eye than him. It's curiously fascinating, this fact that there are people more inclined to their animalistic needs – sick and twisted and strangely human, despite being something other than mortals. Even with this, though, it's sad that they have to be segregated from one another for means of survival.
There are down sides to everything, he presumes, even in a world in which creatures of the night should be able to coexist together.
It's all of this that he thinks of as he walks around the premises of the clan's new headquarters, as the old one was desecrated by bloodshed, the hungry eyes of their newfound stalkers, and tainted memories which can only be relived privately.
This building is much more modern than the last one, too, and from a bird's eye point of view, it looks simply like a small version of a department store. He doesn't know how they managed to rent and move everything in the building, but as it's working so far he doesn't say much about it.
What if they somehow found us again, though?
This should be an ideal for them all, as well, not just him. It's not like they're making the best effort to conceal the building or anyone of the people going in or out. Most wear full-on black, others add a dash of crimson or midnight blue to lay off the inkiest color – it doesn't make much of a difference, but the effort is still there and that's what matters in the end.
If he were to be someone just walking around on the street, he would have found it odd that so many dark wearing, but pale-toned colored, people walked in and out of the estate; but, like most ordinary people, he would have gone on living because it's not his business, really.
But he's not some random citizen with good eyesight. He's a vampire, and his instincts let him catch things like that. And if he does it while completely relaxed, an enemy clan member will surely notice it if on guard.
What if they're following anyone of us right now?
Fear and panic in mind, he glances around the mostly empty city block. Despite the lack of people, the sun's harsh rays can't put an ominous tone to the surrounding. Sure, shadows are casted, but he really can't fear the shadows of a group of bicyclers, a couple walking three dogs, and friends enjoying meals outside. With all of this, this laughter and joy and togetherness, he ignores his faulty fears and instead acts like the lookout he's been unofficially been assigned to be.
(Oh, that's one thing that the clan has actually changed, or made an effort to fix: place the smallest amount of security! And by smallest amount, it's literally just one person. And by one person, it's literally just him.)
