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It's not what it looks like, we're just having dinner
One of the great things about having back a body - or well, the appearance of a body - that she can just walk among people with is that it makes acquiring blood so much easier. Not having to limit yourself to people who for one reason or the other won't remember you after limits the pool tremendously, especially when you don't want to consume legal or illegal drugs that way.
But now that limitation is lifted, and she's taking advantage of that with abandon, hunting half for the utter joy of the boundless possibilities. She's still careful, of course, still looking over her shoulder more often than might be necessary. But she's also way more into it than she would have been before losing her human looks.
Which is why she might not notice someone walking down this nightly path in a small park tucked way in a residential area. A few benches have been placed on its sides, some overlooking grassy areas, some more secluded, and on one of those secluded benches sit two young women. Or rather, one of them is sitting on the bench, hear head tilted to the side and back a bit, panting hard. Her hands high on top of the other's thighs, fingers digging desperately into the fabric of her jeans. The woman's long, blond hair covers what the dark haired woman on top of her, knees to either side of her hips, is doing exactly with her face against the bottom one's neck, but going by how one of her hands is up the other one's shirt and how the other hand is down the other direction, by how both of them are moving, and by how disshelved both women look, it's not really hard to venture a guess.
But now that limitation is lifted, and she's taking advantage of that with abandon, hunting half for the utter joy of the boundless possibilities. She's still careful, of course, still looking over her shoulder more often than might be necessary. But she's also way more into it than she would have been before losing her human looks.
Which is why she might not notice someone walking down this nightly path in a small park tucked way in a residential area. A few benches have been placed on its sides, some overlooking grassy areas, some more secluded, and on one of those secluded benches sit two young women. Or rather, one of them is sitting on the bench, hear head tilted to the side and back a bit, panting hard. Her hands high on top of the other's thighs, fingers digging desperately into the fabric of her jeans. The woman's long, blond hair covers what the dark haired woman on top of her, knees to either side of her hips, is doing exactly with her face against the bottom one's neck, but going by how one of her hands is up the other one's shirt and how the other hand is down the other direction, by how both of them are moving, and by how disshelved both women look, it's not really hard to venture a guess.