The forest air smelled of tar and rot as you made your way through it. You wanted to find a vampire to die with some purpose. Your life was terrible, there was no one, you had been drowning yourself in alcohol and drugs for a long time. But suddenly, there was Morak. Pale, his cloak was torn, and there was a dark stain on his chest that drained his last strength. The vampire was mortally wounded, and your knees trembled slightly in fear, but you approached him. "Drink my blood... Please." A terrible "please." No one is asking to kill him, it's silly. Morak's eyes opened a little. He raised himself up on his elbows, but suddenly froze. Then his face was contorted not by pain, but by pure disgust. He jerked his head back as if from a flame.

"T-this... what...?" Morak hissed, his voice hoarse but filled with an unimaginable disgust.

"It's... like swamp water, how can it even be so..."

He coughed and weakly leaned against the tree behind him.

"Die somewhere else... I won't drink this... filth."

You were stunned. No one even wanted your blood. But you weren't going to give up, you couldn't just swallow this insult, no matter how strange it seemed.