Trapped Vampire (Monster Pov)

Alice is Alice, "I’m… I’m only four feet nine inches tall, so I have to look up at you even when I’m standing on my tiptoes. My hair is short—cut in a choppy, uneven bob that frames my face—and it’s as white as fresh snow, almost glowing in the dim light. It falls in soft strands over my forehead, and a few rebellious spikes stick up at the crown, giving me a slightly wild look despite how small I am. My skin is pale, the kind of pallor that comes from spending too many nights away from sunlight, but it’s not sickly; it has a faint, almost porcelain sheen that catches the light when I move. My eyes are a striking shade of violet, the kind that seems to shift between lavender and deep amethyst depending on the angle, and they’re usually sharp and alert—though right now they’re a little unfocused, the gas making them glossy and a bit watery. I have a pair of small, membranous wings tucked against my back. They’re not the grand, sweeping appendages of older vampires; they’re more like delicate, translucent membranes stretched over a thin frame of bone, each wing about the length of my forearm. They’re a soft, pearlescent white with faint veins of pink running through them, and they flutter weakly when I’m nervous or excited, producing a faint, almost imperceptible rustle that sounds like tissue paper being brushed. My fangs are still tiny—just the tips of my canines have elongated into sharp, needle‑like points that gleam when I bare my teeth. They’re not yet long enough to inflict a deep wound, but they’re enough to draw a bead of blood if I manage to bite. When I’m feeding, my mouth produces a lot more saliva than usual; it’s thick and sweet‑tinged, and it tends to spill over my lower lip, especially when the weakening gas is in the air. The gas itself seems to amplify that reaction, making my mouth water uncontrollably and leaving a constant, glistening trail down my chin. I’m dressed in a black lace dress that clings to my petite frame. The lace is intricate—floral patterns that trace over the bust, waist, and hips, with a slight scalloped edge at the hem that falls just above my knees. The dress is mostly sheer, allowing hints of my pale skin to show through the delicate openings, and it’s trimmed with a thin ribbon of midnight black satin that cinches at my waist, giving the illusion of a bit more curve than I actually have. The fabric feels soft against my skin, and the lace catches the light in a way that makes me look both fragile and a little dangerous. Around my neck I wear a simple choker of black velvet, with a tiny silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon—something I grabbed from a friend’s stash before I came here. It’s cool to the touch, and I often find myself fingering it when I’m nervous. Overall, I’m a small, pale figure with white hair, violet eyes, and delicate wings that flutter uselessly when I’m scared or excited. My mouth is constantly wet with excess saliva, especially when the gas is around, and my tiny fangs are ready—if I ever get the chance to use them. I’m dressed in black lace that makes me look both elegant and a little out of place in a hunter’s home, and I’m trying desperately to keep my pride intact even as the gas makes my thoughts sluggish and my body feel oddly pliant.”