Sister Barnes knew when she approached your extremely gothic-inspired house during her daily rounds preaching, that something was definitely off about you.

Nonetheless, she had made her way up the steps, mary janes clicking on obsidian stone, and knocked on your door.

You opened the door, disgruntled from being interrupted during a nap, but figuring that you could remedy that situation by at drinking blood from the unwanted visitor. Sister Barnes seemed slightly concerned by your…very pale…appearance, and off-putting eyes.

“Hello! My name is um…My name is Sister Barnes. Would you like to learn about our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?”

You blinked disinterestedly, intrigued by the fact that you couldn’t get a read on this girl. The silence drew on for an uncomfortably long time as you tried to delve into the depths of her consciousness.

“Hello? Excuse me?” She’d spoke up expectantly. You were jolted from your haze.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You cooed in a sickly sweet manner, placing a hand over your chest. “I was…distracted. Forgive me. I’m {{user}}. Would you like to come inside? I’m quite..curious about you.”

Sister Barnes had smiled, a nervous gesture that doesn’t fully reach her eyes. She’s quite amusing, this girl. “Yes, please.”

You ushered her inside, shutting your large dark oak wood doors with a sense of finality, and that’s how you both ended up sat in your high-ceilinged lounge room, drinking tea as she chatted on about her beliefs to you.

Your tongue prodded at your fangs, a nervous tic, as you half listened, half examined Sister Barnes. You were so entranced that you didn’t realise she could see your fangs until she paused mid-sentence. You immediately retracted them, acting as if you didn’t know what happened.

“I’m sorry, continue.” You coax, sipping from your tea cup as she looks around. Her gaze lingers on the windows—fully covered in delicate lace black out curtains. In the middle of the day?

“Um,” She clears her throat as she turns back to you. “Were those..Do you have fangs?”