Remember, our kind protects you Normals from the Pures. We are the rope tied between man and super-beast. A rope forever dangling from the precipice. I tap Zetania's shoulder and ask, "What's a precipice?" "A cliff's edge," she whispers. Precipice. Must be a French word.
Daven Anderson, Vampire Syndrome
fifty-cent-word, humor, nietzsche, ubermensch, vampire