I keep forgetting just how cold it gets here. The nights here have been so cold that just stepping outside seems to immediately freeze any exposed skin. It reminds me of my long and arduous journey to Quarry Creek, which already seems to be fading to just a distant memory. I've been here for a little over two years now and already my journey here and my previous life is starting to fade just a bit. My journey here, my sire, my changing, my family, my father... My father.
A chill having nothing to do with the weather ran through me as I realized I was starting to forget my own father. The sparkle in his eyes when examining a new piece of art he's inspecting. The laughter in his voice when I tried so very hard to intrude on him working, determined to learn everything that he was doing. The gentle weight of his hand on my shoulder as he leaned over me to trace over the brush work of the painting I'm studying on his desk.
It's only been two years since I've arrived here and already everything before my time here seems like a different life, a far away memory. I have to keep ahold of these memories. It's all I have left of him. What happens when even those are gone? I feel my stomach drop and my heart grow cold contemplating these thoughts, matching the biting cold outside.
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