Pitch black, close tight space. The smell of cedar from the walls of this wooden prison. The smell of the earth is strong, some of it slips through the cracks in the coffin. There is a eerie silence in the grave. Eerie and yet peaceful, no screams, no pain outside of hunger. Laying here in this tomb, feeling as if all is right. The balance of nature fixed and yet unable to fully rest in eternal slumber.
That will to survive strong, the need to get out, trying to take over. Even though this is the most peaceful it has been since turned. The mind not feeling on fire, yet now the sounds come in clearer. Voices in your mind, whispers, that before seem painful. Now clear and almost melodious. Driving to want to break out, urging to fight.
The priest in such a weaken state, paler and sick. The dead mans blood had taken its toll, but he refuse to give up, refuse to give into that want of eternal slumber. Slowly he began to claw at the wood. Digging his nails, he claw to the point his finger tips bled, his nails trying to break off. He didn’t stop, he kept going, gripping and pulling at the wood till it broke. Which led to dirt pilling into the coffin.
Realizing he didn’t need air, didn’t need to breath. He continued to claw at the dirt, trying to fight and crawl through the dirt. It closed in around him as he tries to gain leverage, hkeeping him trapped. He didn’t stop trying, clawing desperately. He slowly manage to get a hand out, as he wiggled it about topside. Looking like one of those cheesy zombie movie, pushing to get the other hand out. Clawing and gripping at the ground to pull. Using what little strength he had, finally pulling his head out. He kept going till he freed himself finally, fingers practically exploxing bones from his clawing.
The priest was now brought to a crossroads, he could run away now. Run and be free or return to his sire. If he runs, he will live blindly to these changes, never understanding what has fully happened. If he returns, there is a chance of learning about what he is now fully. What it entails, he knew of Vampires only as deranged blood sucking monsters. Now he was one of them, he could never return to the church. He would be all alone in this suffering.
The voices urged him to return, figured it would know. Plus remembering his sire asking if he heard her. Perhaps this was her speaking to him, he get up slowly and shuffle about. Starving as he came upon someone. Like a derange predator, he brutally attack them. Draining them, oh when he finally got a good taste of the blood, the pain started to go away. He felt stronger, his senses sharper, everything felt better.
He’d go on a search for his sire, trying to think of where his sire had kept him. While he wander the streets, he felt something, rather he sense something familiar. Following this feeling for reasons unknown, he didn’t exactly feel fear as much as before. Walking till he come to his sire, who seem to be having a meal of his own. The Vampire looks up seeing his fledgling returned, a smirk hit his lips “Do you hear her? Do you hear her speaking?” He ask the priest, who gave a slow nod. Yes it must be her, the voices in his head.