What webs we weave, like a spider laying out her intricate sticky trap like she had a million times before. And just like that spider she is delicate and adept, her location is key. The way she hunts is specific to the ashen haired woman, a carefully laid out plan. But tonight, was different, tonight she is sloppy from the hunger that grips her so resolutely. Her illusions are not even as potent as they normally are. She could usually influence an entire stadium, but tonight she can only manipulate their faces. A superficial kiss to what was already there, a minor shift of reality that required so little from the vampire. But still, it zapped her further, she could feel the end to that once endless well of her powers.

Now this poor boy, whom just so happened to be the purest form she had come across seemed almost like an easy target. Her perfect little butterfly she would ensnare in her web, all she had to do was pluck those wings. He was alone in that throng of people, lost in the thrum of the loud, grating melody of that music. She wanted it to stop, it grated on her mind. Away, she wanted to lure him away. She drew in his scent, picking it out amongst the assaulting lingering foul, tainted aroma of the others. Petra reaches out for him, her touch so gentle as her hands trembled. She played it off as fear and not weakness. He weakness that sapped the once powerful vampire.

The frenzy for his blood almost made her sloppy, too sloppy. But she had played this role so many countless times that it is ingrained within her, a mere reflex. The concern on his face told her she had played that role enough to fool him. All she needed was one... one to get her back in working order. One to stifle that nagging voice of her own cursed humanity! But the look on his face made her question if she could harm him. He was so terribly innocent and trusting. He was perfect. It was the music, it had to be the music that plagued her.

"No, it isn't safe here.." She shook her head softly, her voice trembling with what seemed like fear. He asked what was wrong so full of that sincere concern and she felt a pang through her.. As though she suddenly grew a heart that cared. She points at the ghouls she creates with her illusions painted in detail over the faces of the crowd and band. She does not answer him but merely points, allowing her face to show that fear like that of so many victims faces she had stolen before. That look they showed, she mirrored with practiced ease and yet she can remember their faces. Those faces that dance, taunting and cruel. She draws closer to the boy with the rich copper hair, as though seeking for comfort within the only steady thing within the crowd of ghoulish fiends.
Her unique two-toned green-blue eyes muddling into a vibrant teal hue, they seemed to glow with a light all of their own making. "Their faces are changing, something isn't right here. Please let's go, we need to go before the turn on us." She whimpers, her voice that had once sounded so melodic like a nightingale's sweet melody, had sounded broken, and wild. Pitiful. Her widened eyes look into those emerald hued eyes of the boy, he was like a cherub amongst a crowd of demons.

How the boys heartbeat began to run rampant, that fear clutching him with immovable skeletal hands. Such a sweet sound, she always seemed so mesmerized by that petrified heartbeat. She wanted to reach out for that sound, to press her ear against his chest as if to relish in that very sound of life. She could practically see the blood sliding through his veins, just beneath the surface of his skin. How easy it could be.. How close she was to her own freedom, trapped within the cell of her own reawakened humanity!

He put his arm around her in a protective gentleness, in spite of his fear. How many people would have run by now, how many people would have already succumbed to her? Countless, she was sure. I will help you, he said, but the intoxicating aroma of his lifeblood sweeps her away like a landslide. His words, despite how true they were had sounded nothing more than the taunting words of 'bite me, feed from me'. He was so close, she could hardly control herself, mere threads keeping her at bay but she feels almost rabid. Just a little pinprick of her glorious predatory teeth.. and he would be putty. Petra leans into him instinctively, like a good scared little girl, but all she was doing was getting closer to his lifeblood scent. He was like a feast to a starving man.

"Follow me. Quickly, we need to go into the dark. We will be safe there. I know exactly where to go." How meek, how frail she sounded, that her own voice seemed distant and hardly her own. She could taste his fear. How the illusionist knew he would follow her into the dark, one way or another and she could feed, finally feed. She allows her own hand to wrap around him, wrapping around his waist, ensnaring him. He was in her grasp now. "Avoid their eyes.. No sudden movements." She whispers, toying with his fear to manipulate him right into her web. Soon she would feed and then she could go back to her twisted normal. How much blood and death would it take to mend the fractures within her mind, to heal the decay of the woman she once was? This had to work, didn't it? But why couldn't she get the imagery of that look of sheer concern within those vibrant eyes of his? Did she really want to kill him? Steal his own lifeforce from him? She wasn't sure of it, sure of herself anymore. But the twisted woman, as broken as she was, was desperate.