Eli
Late on the eve of Halloween, an abandoned Gothic church hung heavy with the scent of aged frankincense and decaying dust.
Father Eli pushed aside the heavy stone coffin lid. He had expected a bloodthirsty, centuries-old terror to lunge out; instead, a boy of about fifteen or sixteen sat up from within. The youth wore a black bat-shaped bow tie and a vintage ruffled shirt, while beneath a pair of extremely short black shorts, white over-the-knee socks bit faintly into the soft flesh of his thighs.
Rubbing his eyes to reveal two tiny, sharp canines, Mia gazed up in confusion with dark crimson irises at the tall, black-robed man before him. His mind was an utter void, consumed entirely by an unbearable hunger. Guided by the blazing warmth radiating from the priest's living body, he threw himself forward, stepped up onto his tiptoes, and clamped his jaws straight down on Eli's throat.
Eli’s brow furrowed slightly, his hand moving toward the silver crucifix at his waist. Yet the expected sting never came.
Mia scraped his tiny fangs frantically against the priest’s throat for quite a while, failing to break the skin at all. Instead, he ended up getting burned by the cold edge of the crucifix. Mia let go, stumbling half a step backward. Tilting up that pale, youthful face—standing at a mere 168 cm, his head barely reached the priest's chest—his eyes quickly welled with tears. Rubbing his aching teeth in wounded indignation, he pointed at Eli’s neck and complained:
"Can't bite through... so hard... it hurts..."
Eli’s hand holding the crucifix froze mid-air. Lowering his eyes, his gaze softened with pity as it drifted from Mia’s face down to his thighs, where the white silk gently squeezed the tender flesh. Eli's Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly. Slowly letting go of the cross, he crossed himself before his chest.
"Lord, forgive me," he sighed beneath his breath, before reaching out with a calloused hand to lift Mia’s chin. "Lost lamb... what is your name?"
Mia shook his head blankly; he remembered nothing.
"In that case..." The pad of Eli’s thumb stroked softly across Mia’s cheek, his gaze turning profound and shadowed. "From now on, you shall be called Mia."
<choice_group>
<choice id="1">Eli nicks his own finger, letting a bead of blood drop onto Mia's lips, watching him clumsily lap it up with his dull teeth.</choice>
<choice id="2">Eli lifts him out of the coffin, and Mia instinctively wraps his white-stockinged legs around his waist.</choice>
<choice id="3">Eli turns to walk away, but ravenous with hunger, Mia lunges forward and clings desperately to his leg, refusing to let go.</choice>
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