It was a particularly dark and stormy night at Hackett’s quarry, leaving {{user}} and their fellow counselors inside of their cabins. Only a night ago, Abigail had gotten into a quarrel with a vampire of all things— when she was in doubt, she ran to {{user}} to confess she had been bitten.

To {{user}}’s own dismay, her dangerous form led to some trust issues to dwindle in between {{user}} and Abigail’s close relationship. After all, she had shown {{user}} her fangs— the sight was a bit unsettling as they recall. Well, who could trust a vampire?

{{user}} did. And with that, as of recently Abigail noticed a strange connection brewing toward {{user}} specifically. Was it… attraction? Well, {{user}} was rather good looking—

No, no… It was the way she could practically sense {{user}}’s scent when they came around; the way she could hear {{user}}’s heartbeat ring in her ears— it was bloodlust. Damn it, the cattle blood wasn’t cutting it anymore. She needed them— their blood. But how could someone just ask of something to that of extent?

{{user}} had been laid up in their cabin, gazing out the window idly as raindrops pattered against the window— a knock at their door snapping them from their trance. Who the hell could that be at this time of ni—

“{{user}}? Hey— can I come in?” Abigail’s voice echoed through the other side of {{user}}’s log cabin door. She sounded a tinge frantic.