Mitoku peeked out the dusty window, and looked at the snow crested city below him. He inhaled a big gulp of air, and sighed deeply to relax his nerves which had been strained from hunting. The dusty air of the attic that his twin brother Mitaki shared triggered a cough, which he let out and gasped for air again.
He chuckled “the undead needing to breathe, ain’t that a sight.”
He glanced back at his New York City view one more time, and then blew out his lamp, as he had been watching many people do for the past hour, then walked across the floor of the one room attic, to the side that kept a small bed that Mitaki slept in. Mitoku would sometimes join his brother in bed to pass the time on the nights that it wasn’t his turn to hunt. Like tonight for example, due to the fact that he had demanded protection for his mortal sibling, he had to watch over him twice as many times as other clan members. Yet, he was happy to do it.
When he clambered into the bunk, Mitaki shuffled a little bit, but rested on his pillow and snored lightly. Mitoku got comfortable, well, as comfortable as you can be when you have fangs digging into your bottom lip, and decided to think. This was a normal routine for him, that he repeated every other night. He would begin by worrying about what troubled him more than anything, the fact that he would stay 18 forever, but Mitaki would grow, build a family, and live as a normal human being.
“Yeah right” he said to himself.
If it was his choice, they would have gotten bitten on the same day as their low class, vampire friends wished. Mitoku gladly accepted the new lifestyle, while his twin was a little skeptical. Mitaki wanted nothing to do with these parasites, until the one thing that meant more than anything to him, became one. He never approved of hunting humans, and was kept in the dark from the violent acts his brother repeated every other evening. He swore he would never do the same, and kept a dark secret.
Mitaki didn’t want his brother to be a bloodsucker forever, so he had been scheming with a figure of dark magic, in order to make Mitoku human once more.
After he had troubled himself by worrying about the mortal/ vampire issue, Mitoku pondered about hunting. The one thing he looked forward to, was the blood of an innocent mortal. You see, as a human becomes impure, their blood becomes salty and bitter. While drug dealers and prostitutes are easy to trap, feeding off of them is like drinking vinegar. The best blood, comes from small children, but isn’t plentiful in their small bodies, so they must be drained in massive amounts. But although he craved it, Mitoku restrained himself from feeding like this, and would make do with the bitter, salty blood from criminals. Most of the people in his clan would compromise, and drink from business men and women, who most likely have lived a pleasant enough lifestyle for their blood to be moderately appetizing.
Mitoku looked over at his older brother, and longed to be able to sleep. To just be able to relax and not have to think because your body does it for you. Of course, he never got tired. Yet, he wished he could, because the feeling of relaxing was something he would never experience.
Mitaki mumbled something in his sleep, and sat bolt upright. He had sleep apnea, so nobody could ever tell if he was awake or sleepwalking. Though, judging by his groggy appearance, Mitoku guessed he was sleepwalking.
Mitaki rolled off of the bed, and proceeded to exit the room wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers. Because he found it amusing so observe his brother during these spells, and because it was his job to protect him tonight, Mitoku followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Because he was anything but a morning person, Mitaki had a strict schedual for reading himself for work. First, he would get his coffee. He reached for a pitcher that was set under the coffee pot to collect drips of excess coffee. He filled a mug that he never would have reached for if he was awake, due to the fact that it is sometimes filled with bat’s blood (in order to ward off warewolves) with the pitcher under the coffee pot, and proceeded to the front door where he exited and stepped onto the curb.
“Man! They skipped giving us our god damn paper again!” he yelled into the dark city street in front of him. He put his hands on his hips defiantly, and sipped from his mug.
“This freaking coffee tastes like crap!” He growled and threw the cup to the sidewalk, where it shattered into a million pieces that scattered around his bare feet.
Mitoku had been laughing like a mad dog, but intervened and carried Mitaki back to bed as he shouted “Hear that delivery boy? I will prevail!”
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