((This is very displeasing. You lot have forgotten all
about me and dear Monica, haven't you? And I thought I had made a lasting impression in your colorful brain matter! It hurts my soul people. My soul
. I feel greatly saddened, Emmaline!))
((Well, as a homecoming gift to everybody, and to celebrate the belated birthday of our new thread, Monica will cause much more trouble than she is worth.
The small, misshapen blur streaked almost clumsily past the entrance to the massive house, safely hidden away from the rest of the world in an almost surreal state. Breezing past the glimmering cars parked ostentatiously in the large driveway, the blur formed into a smudge like bright colors smeared across a canvas as it slowly almost imperceptibly.
The figure was only visible for naught but a split second as the girl with the porcelain skin completely stopped to be allowed into the ornate hallway of the mansion, where the cries and shouts of laughter were more audible as they echoed off the glittering walls.
To eyes aided with the supernatural vampiric ability, the snarling bundle of cloth smothered by the girl's side would be easily recognized as another vampire. But her bright scarlet eyes were wide and owl-like as she surveyed the house with a jittery aura of unease and nervousness. There were only a few of the vampires that would take notice of her entrance, and the Boss was missing in action.
The girl blended into a blur streaked with a rainbow of colors once more as she darted up the stairs restlessly to make an abrupt stop on the fourth floor. With shaky, worried pale hands, she thrust open the door to her own room, and shoved in the struggling, yelping bundle into the small closet of a room. At the last moment, before the small girl could shut the door closed in a panic, a small, tussled head popped out of the cloth, bright red eyes burning in her babyish, round face. Her mouth opened widely to bare her pearly fangs, but the door slammed shut before the tiny child could leap.
Monica held the door knob tightly as Feline slammed her small, slight body against the heavy door. It wasn't enough to muffle her shrieks or her inarticulate crying. Monica leaned her body against the wood, her deathly strength the only thing between the Mafia and this bloodlusting newborne. After a few seconds it went horribly quiet.
It was the ragged, splintering sound of steel nails digging themselves into the carved wood, accompanied by a banshee wail.
"I'm sorry Feline." Monica sounded tearful at best, her bright eyes searching for any penetration within the door. She propped anything remotely weighing any weight at all against the door, her tiny frame shoving a half ton statue of whoever the hell against the dining table, the dresser, the sofa.
((For anyone who does not know me (and I don't think there's much, because I haven't spotted anyone I haven't met yet, except for perhaps Medea), I'm Shelby. And I write really long posts. Party on.))