Chapter: Stolen
And they are called Omenne. They usually have dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin. They are a peaceful people, and do not harm those who do not harm them. They are seen as Bad Luck, or Omens, because they have the appearance of something that does not appeal to the human senses. They are irregularly beautiful, and it disconcerts the human species, where they are not used to seeing beautiful males, but it is what is.
Vincent looked at his reflection, seeing himself in the mirror at the end of the room across from his bed, where he was currently sitting cross-legged, reading his family’s book on his own species, his own race, the Omenne. But he did not look like what the book said he would look like. He was almost the opposite.
He had pale, curling blonde hair that hung down in his face, tied in the back with a crimson ribbon that had his name sewn into the velvet. He cherished the ribbon, because his sister had given it to him before she’d gone away, leaving him as the only family member that held any kind of memento from her. He had pale, white-grey eyes and pale, cream-like skin that felt as smooth as a well-rounded pebble. His eyes were large and fringed with dark lashes, and his lips were full and much like a child’s. he had large hands and large feet, though he was only five-six, and he was slender in form and gentle in movement. He was quite feminine for a male of the Omenne people.
He looked back down at the book.
Omenne have the ability, at will, to grow fangs that bear poison, and if they are in conflict, their nails bear poison as well. They are much like Vampires, in that they need blood to live, but they hit aging point, and cannot change others into their own kind.
He looked at his nails, which were naturally black, though many people thought he painted them, because he was Emo. He wore tights black shirts and pants, and wore flats or converse depending on his mood, and he had an ever-present ere of disillusionment, or even indifference, as some had told him. He sighed, closing his eyes and closing the book, throwing it across the room onto a desk he kept around for when he was writing or organizing pictures.
He rubbed his temples, feeling the dread fill him as he thought of having to go downstairs. He turned to the window and opened it, leaning out as far as he could. “Someone please,” he said quietly, knowing that there were people watching and listening. There were always people watching and listening. “Please, come and steal me away.”
He closed his eyes.
There was a chuckled from somewhere around him, and his eyes flew open.
“Just remember, you chose this.”
And everything went black.