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At least you get to look at scantily clad celebrities. As demure as they all appear, they're dresses all have on explicit purpose. Draw attention. And that is achieved with short hems and steep cleavage. There could be worse things to stare at. However, becoming a glorified photographer was not what you had in mind for your evening. In fact, as you lazily snap photos, you let your eyes glance across the growing crowds, wondering if you might just be able to spot something worthwhile reporting. A pipe-dream perhaps, yet you do it nonetheless.As foolhardy an endeavour as you thought it to be, you're surprised by what actually manages to catch your eye. The large building is split up into several areas: the press area, full of tents and camera crews; the actual red-carpet leading into the auditorium, full of celebrities and cooing fans; and a back-street that runs around the outside of the building.You spot someone in a black hoodie and sweatpants pushing through the press-area, her. ” More blobs of black ooze splashed outward from its non-existent mouth, landing around its bobbing head, and disappearing into the black. “I ... I only here, to ... to sustain on the ... death, and blood, and black.”Black Blood. Eric clenched a fist, and forced in a breath. Yeah, this gurgling little spirit did look something like Black Blood. Course, his memories were a blurry mess, having nearly died from his wounds when the strange spirit had come to rescue them. But, he remembered enough. He remembered the inky waves, and the strange, cold-but-not feel of it on his skin, as it pulled him into itself. Swimming, floating, Eric and the others had drifted in what might as well have been a swamp of death and decay, and ... shadow.“Show yourself to my friends.” He knew it could. Spirits could manifest, become solid, or possess people; more knowledge that seeped into his consciousness.“B-But, it is very draining, and I—”“Do it, or I will eat you.” Course, he hadn’t the slightest clue.
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