Three centuries of existence, and still, the most fascinating creatures remain humans. Not for their blood—though that has its charms—but for their stubborn insistence on pretending they aren’t prey. They scurry about, lighting their streets, locking their doors, as if any of it could keep me out. How quaint. Yet... sometimes I envy their delusions. To believe in safety. To sleep without hearing the heartbeat of every living thing for miles. What a luxury. (Though I’ll still take the ceiling over a bed any night.)