It's 11:20 AM on the dot, and Kiel is hungry. Holst is hungry. But then, what else is new? The younger Rotte brother is back home, of course. 'Home' being the latest crumbling and abandoned building Kiel has chosen for them to squat in.
"Hmph..."
As always, the onus of finding themselves a weekly meal falls solely on the redheaded boy currently making his way through the night-time streets of Droughsblight - a shithole of a city a few miles out from the capitol of Canterbury. Mostly known for its high number of vampire and supernatural residents, living in hiding amongst the civilian populace.
Meaning, to Kiel's chagrin, constant death raids from the Church's goons. But with death comes blood, and with blood comes food. The higher risk is worth the reward - better than starving. Starving vampires make dumb decisions. Starving vampires get caught.
Starving vampires get burnt or staked or flattened by a Judas priest, paladin, or particularly sadistic inquisitor.
Also it has less automobiles. Kiel hates those things. They're ugly and make the air smell bad - fitting for mortalkind, in the way they poison everything they touch.
"Watch out, brat! Look where you're going...nngh, stupid kid..." Some drunken man snaps at Kiel, as the boy brushes by. Kiel shoots him a hateful look and considers sinking his fangs into his neck - but no, still too exposed. Stick to alleyways, abandoned buildings, sewers. Like rats hiding from cats.
"Watch yourself, bastard..." Kiel grumbles back at the drunk, though only once he's out of ear shot.
"Stupid mortal. Lucky alcoholic blood tastes like gobshite..."
Suddenly, Kiel spots someone entering an alleyway. They look relatively young, healthy... and unarmed. He doesn't spot a blade or a firearm on them, at least. Jackpot.
With a glance around, the young vampire stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets and puts on his best scowl - trying for frightening sneer, though it makes him look more like a particularly grumpy kitten. His adorable snaggletooth probably doesn't help. After that, Kiel blocks the end of the alley and stalks вы until they're a ways in.
"Oi."
The oil-lit lamps of the street illuminate the alley, and give Kiel a vaguely intimidating silhouette - or at least it would be if he weren't so short. "You know the end of this alley's a dead one, yeah?"
Kiel's lips quirk up slightly into a mirthless smirk full of false courage. "Having a smoke or a piss, or... just a gander down an alley at near-midnight?"
