Cheyanne gazed at her sister when she began to move.<span style="font-style: italic">Finally</span>she thought theatirically. Swinging her legs over her head, she did a back roll landing on her feet. The heels of her sneakered feet whispered against the flat roof top for a fraction of a second before leaping after her sister, the one they called the Vulture. Seeing where she had landed, Cheyanne followed after her. Not only because she had nothing else to do, but because for all her keen memory, she could still not remember where their apartment was. Stupid cities.<br/><br/>Catching a whiff of fresh blood, she almost went mad with lust until she realized that it was from herself. Cheyanne tried her best to have "table manners" as she called them, but the blood seemed to always get everywhere. Especially on her.<br/><br/>"Sissy," she nearly whinned, "when are we getting home?"