Soren's past (part one)
My body trembles on the cold wooden floor, barely covered by the cotton thinness of the Prince's white shirt: a vampire's clothing which has no purpose for warmth, only striving the achieve the unobtainable heights of vampiric high beauty and fashion. The fire and ice in my veins has subsided, the overwhelming pain subdued to a faint murmuring in my heart, both of which are a much greater relief than I would care to admit. I look with a brief flash of melancholy to my skin- much paler than it was before, as though I had been shut outside in a snowstorm overnight and the blood had directed itself to my extremities in a futile effort to keep me alive. But considering now I am at the very least half vampire, I doubt I can really be called 'alive' any more.