![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
30 Day Meme
Sep. 12th, 2010 07:47 am( 30 Day Meme )
28. Have you ever written a character with physical or mental disabilities? Describe them, and if there's nothing major to speak of, tell us a few smaller ones..
Not really. There was a section of Faust's account where he helped a member of the Tribe of the Tomb. Here it is for your perusal.
Faust was only two years into his new Vampiric existence, so he was still learning what it all meant. He knew very little about the Tribe of the Tomb, so he was surprised when the emaciated woman asked Faust for money.
Reaching into his trouser pockets, Faust found a few coins and handed them to the Vampire woman, who kissed his hands in thanks. Faust knelt before her and gazed into her eyes.
“What is your name, ma’am?”
“I…” The Vampire woman cast down her eyes out of shyness or shame, he knew not which, maybe neither, he never found out. On impulse, the young vampire reached out and cupped the vagrant’s dirty face in his other hand, staring into her faded eyes with his own blazing gaze. Her face brightened a little and he could feel her tremble under his touch. “I am Constance.”
“That’s a very pretty name Constance. Tell me… Why do you need money? You are a Vampire. We really have no need for it, you know. Do you?”
Constance nodded. “He won’t just give it to me anymore.”
“Who?”
“The butcher… And I am not fast enough to capture animals for myself,” she said, looking down at her legs.
Faust followed her eyes to see legs three sizes too small. Polio. And the Blood had not repaired in the way it would normally have others. He didn’t understand, but he ached for this wounded Vampire. “So you’ve been taking blood from the local abbatoir?”
“Yes, but he says I must pay. Times are tough all over. Everywhere, that’s what they say. Times….are tough all over.”
Tears welled up in Faust’s mosaic eyes. “Come with me. It’s okay, you can trust me. Come.”
He helped the vagrant up and took her home. She was too weak even to pierce his throat with her almost spongy veins. Faust ended up biting his own wrist and offering it to her. She drank meekly and gratefully, and he let her take her fill, even though it was beginning to drain him to the point of starvation himself.
28. Have you ever written a character with physical or mental disabilities? Describe them, and if there's nothing major to speak of, tell us a few smaller ones..
Not really. There was a section of Faust's account where he helped a member of the Tribe of the Tomb. Here it is for your perusal.
Faust was only two years into his new Vampiric existence, so he was still learning what it all meant. He knew very little about the Tribe of the Tomb, so he was surprised when the emaciated woman asked Faust for money.
Reaching into his trouser pockets, Faust found a few coins and handed them to the Vampire woman, who kissed his hands in thanks. Faust knelt before her and gazed into her eyes.
“What is your name, ma’am?”
“I…” The Vampire woman cast down her eyes out of shyness or shame, he knew not which, maybe neither, he never found out. On impulse, the young vampire reached out and cupped the vagrant’s dirty face in his other hand, staring into her faded eyes with his own blazing gaze. Her face brightened a little and he could feel her tremble under his touch. “I am Constance.”
“That’s a very pretty name Constance. Tell me… Why do you need money? You are a Vampire. We really have no need for it, you know. Do you?”
Constance nodded. “He won’t just give it to me anymore.”
“Who?”
“The butcher… And I am not fast enough to capture animals for myself,” she said, looking down at her legs.
Faust followed her eyes to see legs three sizes too small. Polio. And the Blood had not repaired in the way it would normally have others. He didn’t understand, but he ached for this wounded Vampire. “So you’ve been taking blood from the local abbatoir?”
“Yes, but he says I must pay. Times are tough all over. Everywhere, that’s what they say. Times….are tough all over.”
Tears welled up in Faust’s mosaic eyes. “Come with me. It’s okay, you can trust me. Come.”
He helped the vagrant up and took her home. She was too weak even to pierce his throat with her almost spongy veins. Faust ended up biting his own wrist and offering it to her. She drank meekly and gratefully, and he let her take her fill, even though it was beginning to drain him to the point of starvation himself.
