The world is cruel, no matter who you are- human, vampire or otherwise. For Razen Catane, this was especially true. He couldn't really remember how long he'd been asleep in the ruins outside the strangely modernized town, but the fatigue in his eyes was quite harsh. His reddened irises were unsettled by the unusual buildings, and he found it peculiar how revealing the clothing people were wearing was. As he tried to find young ladies and young men to feed on, he found it hard to find one that would speak with him without laughing. Was there something strange about telling a young maiden that she was fairer than a full moon? It had always worked the last time he was awake. His dress likely didn't help him fit in, however. Razen had rather long hair, black as night. The hair was tamed to fit behind him in a loose ponytail of sorts, reaching his mid back in a thin bind, more hair covering his chin and upper lip in a thick beard and mustache. He seemed to be smiling under his hair in a mild manner, but his black cloak covered his body quite thoroughly, and some had actually asked him if he was cold even though it was temperate outside. What was strange about a cloak? There were too many questions and too few answers for him. The worst part, however, was the smell of blood- or rather, the lack thereof. He could see people with synthetic legs without realizing they were synthetic, but there were a few people who smelled rather wretched- there was something about fake blood that seemed to tell him right away it was going to poison him just being near it. Many people around him seemed to smell artificial to him, however. They also had an air of nobility, though. Did nobles nowadays use a strange perfume? Or was their blood poisoned to protect them from vampires such as himself? In hundreds of years, he'd never heard such a thing. But what else could cause such a strange sensation? His tongue moved to lick his dry lips- he was parched and hungry, having not drank blood in centuries of slumber. He searched subtly for prey, preferring a young one over an elder, but he was starting to doubt his picky eating. A begger couldn't be a chooser, and he was being quite choosy for someone who was lucky to have so much energy with so little blood in their system. "I must find food quickly, before the sun rises from its slumber." He mused. However, the sun was a unique issue. Where would he hide when it did arise? "I believe shelter is another issue I must address...Oh, isn't there a kind soul that would be able to save me from my distress? No, a gentleman must not beg for such a thing...I must find my own shelter. Some shelter, and a young maiden to dine on is certainly my best course of action for this time..."