[sylvanSpider]

Liam was not always a creature of the night. No, at one point he was solar-powered, a writer, a poet. The sun was once a friend, aiding in afternoon trips to the park, lighting his notebook as he scribbled his thoughts in iambic pentameter, Spenserian sonnets, free-verse. All was at the command of his fingertips. Once, his poetry was happy – calling upon the songbirds to be his muse, the breeze flitting through the trees to determine meter and rhyme. Poetry, at least, was still his friend; though his friend, like himself, had taken a very different form.

It wasn't like the sunlight was a complete enemy; it certainly wasn't like the tales. Vampires were supposed to melt or catch fire in the sunlight, but Liam upon his change found that not to be the case. The rays of the sun did have a different effect, however. His abilities that he'd gained would dissipate, weakness would take hold, drowsiness would cloud his vision in long bouts of exposure. Worst of all, it consumed his energy, to the point that it would increase his thirst. No, the sunlight was not an enemy, but it was no longer the intimate friend he had become so well acquainted with.

The sun was now setting, painting the sky with glorious brush strokes of reds and oranges only to fade to shades of blues and purples. In less urban spaces, the stars would have shown their faces. It was springtime; Liam would have been able to point to Bootes, Cancer, Crater, Hydra, Leo, Virgo. As it stood, the stars were as quiet as the street he stood on. The lamplights flickered on and Liam's shadow stretched before him like some creature in a scary children's tale and he was once again reminded of his solitude.

He marched on, hands buried in his pockets. As far as he could tell, he was not being followed. It was the first time in a while he could not detect another's presence, and it seemed that at least for the moment, he had lost them. The neighborhood he found himself in was of the swankier caliber, and he knew that if he were to find a place to occupy with a potential willing human tenant, it would be here. His services would be free as far as currency was concerned; his need was blood and a place to stay. Should he apply as a butler, room and board would be provided. He simply needed someone to dispel his secret to.

The largest house loomed at the end of the street, and that, he decided, would be his destination. He walked up to the door, straightened his tie and knocked.