He's promised to be good and not kill any humans while Jean-Claude sorts things out, but it's very hard. It's not just getting fresh blood--Islington Nest being on the ascendant means that there's no end to willing donors lately--it's the thrill of the chase, the fun of closing in on his quarry, and now that he's on the wagon he can't play with his food like he used to. It's frightfully dull now. Maybe it's time for a holiday, a trip over to the Continent where he won't have to worry about minding his P's and Q's and can engage in a bit of good, old-fashioned mayhem for a change. Surely Jean-Claude wouldn't begrudge him that.
He smiles as he walks through the streets one evening, imagining the fun he could have and wondering how Bruges has changed since his last visit in the mid-1850s. Quite a bit, probably. There'd been a fellow child vampire there, a pretty girl named Agnes with golden curls and a kill count that rivaled his own. Maybe he'll look her up and see if she's still alive...
An unpleasant smell cuts into his reverie. He looks up sharply, trying to find the source. A wolf. He knows he's practically in wolf territory right now, but they're close enough to Islington territory that there shouldn't be any werewolves in this area. Joscelin grins. He swore not to kill humans, but made no such promises about the wolves.
"Careful," he teases, sidling up close to the preoccupied woman. "Let me help you with those bags."
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He's promised to be good and not kill any humans while Jean-Claude sorts things out, but it's very hard. It's not just getting fresh blood--Islington Nest being on the ascendant means that there's no end to willing donors lately--it's the thrill of the chase, the fun of closing in on his quarry, and now that he's on the wagon he can't play with his food like he used to. It's frightfully dull now. Maybe it's time for a holiday, a trip over to the Continent where he won't have to worry about minding his P's and Q's and can engage in a bit of good, old-fashioned mayhem for a change. Surely Jean-Claude wouldn't begrudge him that.
He smiles as he walks through the streets one evening, imagining the fun he could have and wondering how Bruges has changed since his last visit in the mid-1850s. Quite a bit, probably. There'd been a fellow child vampire there, a pretty girl named Agnes with golden curls and a kill count that rivaled his own. Maybe he'll look her up and see if she's still alive...
An unpleasant smell cuts into his reverie. He looks up sharply, trying to find the source. A wolf. He knows he's practically in wolf territory right now, but they're close enough to Islington territory that there shouldn't be any werewolves in this area. Joscelin grins. He swore not to kill humans, but made no such promises about the wolves.
"Careful," he teases, sidling up close to the preoccupied woman. "Let me help you with those bags."