She is hungry, so hungry.

It's not a human type of hunger, this gnawing ache that grinds at her bones calls for release, consumes every thought she has with a low roar of "eat, Eat, EAT."

Every tempting treat that she happens across makes the pain so much more, but isolating herself from seeing them doe not good, ow she sees them in her dreams, dancing,

It's unspeakably worse than anything she had felt before she turned.

Though of course, sadly, she's suffered worse after becoming a vampire. She shakes her head at that memory, of when she still thought her body belonged to her. It doesn't, it belongs to whatever dark force exists in this universe,

If she doesn't eat soon, that dark force will take over her body yet again.

Desperate, vicious, selfish, with only the need for satisfying the hunger on its mind.

And god, how her body responds to urges when her resolve is overpowered.

She can't let it get to that.

Not again.

She won't be the reason innocent life is slaughtered.

Never again.

She needs to find a meal quick, which is why she took off to the city. There is a verifiable feast of sin here in London. She doesn't care much for the whores, the pickpockets and the thieves, they are driven to their crimes, usually, by illness and poverty. She looks for those who hurt children, abuse women, to those who murder, rape, and torture.

Now the only issue with London — and why she usually avoids cities — is that the streets are always alive with passers-by, and she cannot follow anyone into their home, of course, unless invited, so she has to kill on the streets, which runs the risk of her being seen.

She prefers to kill her prey in the villages, on the lonely footpaths in the forest. She can leave the body there, you see, with a bit of post-mortem mauling, and no one even suspects murder. It's always an animal, a pack of wolves or maybe even a bear, something that tore and bit the flesh, the lack of blood is sometimes whispered about, but often by the time the body is found decay has already started, and all those issues are explained away.

And no one ever wants to investigate, since her victims are usually someone the town has quietly despised.

So she likes the small villages, she can make her home there for nearly a full year, taking her victims from nearby areas and occasionally right in town, careful to never kill more than once a month but also never to kill like clockwork once a month, for that is too suspicious.

In the past, that has had her investigated. The far too pretty, far too single newcomer coming to town, with an interesting series of deaths coinciding with her appearance to town… well, she knows how to avoid that now. She's smarter.

For a few decades, she even took a husband to fit in a bit. Chose an idiotic self-absorbed man to marry. He was blissfully unaware of her true nature, and it hadn't been as hard as she thought to hide it from him. But as he aged, and she did not, even he was unable to be blind to her differences.

It hadn't ended well.

But that is in the past.

She had been in Westhaven for nearly a year, and that area kept her well fed and satisfied until now.

Finding her victims in the villages can be…a bit difficult. Villagers keep secrets, they explain away every horrible occurs, leaving her to investigate to find the villains in them. Their crimes are hidden, revealed only to those who are able to gain trust.

She was very successful at first, but she's nearly cleaned up the entire surrounding area. Someone is torturing animals around the town — she was working on finding out who, but she had no leads, and fuck, she doesn't have any more time to find more monsters in there.

So she took off to London in a flurry, in a race against her building hunger.

She's walking down a darkened alley when she sees a horse-drawn carriage approaching, smelling of food and wine. It's late at night and unusual for the time of day, and that strikes her as odd. And the home it has stopped near looks decadent and wealthy. She's curious, in her experience the wealthy are often abusive and cruel. They ignore the impoverished, even the children, they eat their fill and throw out leftovers while others starve and pick through their garbage. And that is just the start of their offenses, usually.

So this carriage has piqued her curiosity, to say the least. Perhaps there are some dark secrets in that carriage, instead of a decadent late night meal.

She hides in the alley, watching, hoping for an opportunity to find something worthy of death, because she's hungry, god, so hungry.

A curious thing happens, then.

She sees a man in a mask enter the alley, unbeknownst to those in the carriage. Truly in this darkness, no one could see him, no one with human eyes, anyway.

But she can see perfectly in darkness, unfortunately for this stranger.

He opens the cart's back door, and she thinks, when he grabs that jug of ale, he means to rob them, in which case she'd let the man be on his way and leave.

But he opens the jug and pours some powder in it, then sneaks back into the alley, hiding not far from her.

She can smell it in the air, it is medicinal, this powder, she cannot tell if it is poisonous, however.

She thinks no, it is not.

But it is interesting. And perhaps it's worth staying for a bit longer.

The driver is knocking on the door now, and she waits, watches as a well dressed, uniformed man answer.

"Chief Nottingham," the driver says, bowing (actually bowing!). "I found myself in excess of food tonight. I thought you might enjoy a late supper snack."

There is silence, and then this Chief Nottingham inspects the cart, perusing food items.

"You wouldn't be giving me any spoiled meat, would you, Jefferson?" Nottingham asks.

"No, it's fresh today from our restaurant. I give you what would normally go to our family and friends."

"The leftovers," Nottingham gripes like the ungrateful asshole Regina already believes him to be.

"Well why not come into the pub for a meal, on the house?" this Jefferson inquires. "I want to assure you going into business with me has its benefits."

Nottingham just grunts. "Take it in. I'll think about your offer. Though I'm not very hungry, I must say."

Regina's blood boils thinking of the starving orphans not too far away, yet the food is delivered to this well-fed Nottingham anyway.

He might have claimed he wasn't hungry, but he sure is thirsty. He and his wife, and another man she thinks might be his older brother, or maybe a father… some sort of relative, all partake in the wine given to him. Even the servants sneak some wine.

She watches, listens to the voices inside the Nottingham home as their loud boastful laughs become slower and stuttering. Nottingham's wife has ventured upstairs. Regina spots her through a window, watches her fall to her bed with a sudden drop. Nottingham is in a living room chair, appears to be entirely unconscious. One of the servants — the one who snuck the most wine — is lying on the kitchen floor.

The man in the mask is clever and quiet. She doesn't spot him until he is already inside — must have snuck through a window on the other side of the house.

He's robbing them now, taking all that food, as well as some coin and some valuables, bundling it up in an ever-growing sack.

He killed these people, she realizes. She was wrong about the powder, it seems it was poison. He has killed not only the man of the house but the servants and the man's wife. For their wealth, it seems.

She watches this masked man come within a breath of Chief Nottingham, staring him down as if to make sure he's dead. And then he takes off to the other end of the house to make his exit.

She usually doesn't prey on thieves. But this man isn't just a thief. He's murdered an entire house full of people.

She's found her monster.

The hunger inside her is pulsing, now, at the thought of being satisfied, finally, thank god, or Lucifer, or whoever has given her this new guilt-free feast.

She's quick to the other end of the home, ready to pounce, but…

The masked man is not quite alone. He's handing things to a man who keeps running it off to a nearby horse and cart. They are really making away with quite a bit.

This masked man may be a murderer, but the man helping… she's not so sure about. There's a kindness in his eyes she can't shake. And she doesn't really need the blood of two.

She can wait. She can follow them, and wait for them to separate.

.::.

Regina is a predator. A vicious, calculating predator. She's equipped with everything she needs to stalk her prey, including the ability to track prey without making much of a sound.

She can tell these men are skilled thieves, and would normally catch on to someone trailing them. But they don't notice her presence as they ride.

The masked man is no longer wearing a mask, and that's a shame.

He's actually very good looking. His eyes are blue, like deep pools of lake water, like the sky in those vibrant moments before the sun sets. It's almost a pity that no one else can appreciate these eyes, not in the dark.

His jawline looks as if it were chilled by an incredibly talented sculptor, lips naturally pink in the night air, a flush of red highlight his perfect cheekbones as well.

She hasn't felt attraction in a long while, at least not to a man. She's had sex, she's found herself drawn to other vampires, occasionally, but she hasn't found herself drawn to a human make in a long time, certainly not enough to pierce through the hunger inside her.

She's not sure how she's able to feel anything besides that pain, and it is jarring, to say the least.

Perhaps he's such a delicious meal, and she's so hungry, her emotions are playing tricks on her.

God, she really needs to eat.

When the carriage stops she can almost cry from happiness, surely these men will separate after hiding their wealth for the night, and then she can eat.

An interesting place to hide stolen property, she thinks. A workhouse.

She realizes the truth right before the no-longer-masked man shimmies up to the second-floor window and knocks.

"Robin!" A boy opens the window with a cheesy grin.

"Hello, Henry. Special delivery, just as I promised."

No. No, no, no.

"Is that roast beef?" The boy squeals, pointing to the roast in John's hand.

"Yes, it is, but Henry, as we discussed, we must be quiet."

"I know." Henry's voice drops to a whisper Regina can hardly hear herself. "If Mr. _ finds out, he'll take all the food for herself and beat us."

"And then I'll have to beat him," Robin responds, "and I'm already in enough trouble, we wouldn't want me to get in anymore, right?"

"We'll be quiet, I promise, Robin!"

She's mesmerized, it seems, unable to move.

If she had killed him in that alley, these orphans would be starving, she…

Thank god for the man with him. Thank god she still has the willpower to hesitate.

She remembers he's still a murderer, at least. And she is running out of time. A murderer with a heart of gold might cause her to lose sleep, but at least it's better than killing dozens of innocents.

And when she gets to that point, when her hunger overtakes her, that is what happens. The death of innocents.

She's trying to focus, trying to work out this moral pickle, so consumed with her own inner thoughts she doesn't hear the man approaching.

"You look hungry, milady," he says, those blue eyes sparkle as he holds out a piece of cheese and bread for her.

"I..." she says, too startled to breathe. It's ironic, of course, because she is hungry, though not for food. "No, no, please, give it to the orphans, I… I can manage."

Her stomach burbles, the closeness of fresh meat filling her lungs, yet the temptation to rip him to shreds isn't as bad as she would have thought.

Even as starved as she is now, for some reason she cannot find it in her heart to kill him.

"As you wish," he whispers back into her ear, and then an even quieter "stay here, just for a bit."

She does, feels rooted in the ground as Robin travels back to Henry, carrying the last of the food up to him.

"But she looks hungry," she hears Henry argue in hushed whispers. "She needs to eat too."

"I'll make sure she does, Henry, I promise you," this Robin says.

She sees that the boy still hesitates, and Robin notices too, asks him what is the matter.

"You didn't make anyone hungry tonight when you took this food, right?" Henry asks, dear god, this child is too good for this world.

"No, my boy, I only take from the rich, you know that. They have more than enough to feed you boys. But try to stretch this as long as you can. The preserves —"

"I know, we will save what we can," Henry promises. And then a whispered, "are you sure I can't come with you?"

"Henry you know I would…" Robin sighs. "Someday, I'll find a proper home for you."

"I don't want a proper home, I want to stay with you."

"I know, Henry, believe me, one day we will make it work. But for now, I need you to stay here and help all the other boys, okay?"

There's a stifled sigh, and then Regina sees the young boy nod.

"That's a good boy. I'll be back soon, I promise."

"Bring Roland next time?" Henry asks, and Robin laughs.

"Perhaps I will have him drive instead of John, next time."

Henry's eyes widen and he nods vigorously at the idea.

They say their goodbyes and Regina is just stuck watching, unsure of what to do and oddly unable to move.

"Come with us," Robin requests, holding his hand out to her. "I made a very special young boy a promise that I would feed you, and I am nothing if not a man of my word."

She should run in the other direction, she really should.

She can't kill him, not now, and she needs to eat so badly that every hour she goes hungry she's at risk for causing a disaster.

She follows him anyway, unsure of where he is leading.