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Blood Feast

Blood Feast

How appropriate to be facing you in a place called the Slaughterhouse.

Back in my younger days, in the days leading up to a feast, we would fatten up a prized boar. Feed it as much as we could, to make it as fat and succulent as possible.

We’d feed it the best wheat, the very best and cleanest water. We’d ensure everything that went into that boar was of the highest quality, to ensure the best taste possible for when the day come, our guests were happy.

When the day came, so the meat was the freshest, we’d lead it to slaughter. Butcher it and make sure we didn’t waste a piece of the meat.

Guests would come, and marvel at the magnificence of our feast, eating and drinking to their hearts content.

That mindset never left me, even in my Embraced life. I’d watch for the best of prey, the sweetest of blood. I’d watch, and lure them in. I’d feed them the best meats, the best wine, the best food they’d ever experienced in their lives. I’d watch as they became intoxicated in the moment of the feast.

And once the new boar was properly fed, and fattened, I’d make a feast of them.

Oh, how other Kindred enjoyed what I had to offer to them. Not one of them angered, but all fed in the deepest possible way.

Humanity and Kindred are no different in this way, we can be lured and pleasured by the food we eat. Intoxicated on the scent of cooked meats or fresh blood.

But then there are times the hunger is too powerful, and you need your quick fix. So you forsake the fattened boar, and the sweetest wines, and you go for junk. You go for food that you know is bad. Poor quality. Food our ancestors would be depressed to see us sink to.

Even when they do their best to mask themselves as a fattened boar.

I’ve watched you feast for a long time. Nothing passes your mouth that you haven’t taken a bite of. Tasting every morsel, enjoying every bite. You’re a fattened boar yourself, but fattened on all the worst.

You’ve fattened yourself on the lowest quality foods and drinks. Your taste and quality having long disappeared from your blood. But still, my hunger knows no limits right now.

So, to the shame of my ancestors, I shall feast upon the garbage. Drink of the garbage that runs through your veins.

I, too, am hungry. I’ve hungered for a long time, and can no longer pass up any sustenance that passes by my lips. So, come to me. Come and be the feast you’ve long been made for. Be the feast I need to finally silence my hunger. Know what it is to be the thing that satiates a hunger you know all too well, Ether.

No more hunger pains, no more mindless drive.

It’s time for my blood feast, Ether.

And you’re my fattened pig.