With your elongated nails, more talons now, you reached towards a sleeping figure. A girl, you recognize. You felt as though you knew her face, her figure. She was an adult dancer, and looking at her figure you could see why. You turned your head back to her fragile face, your neck creaking as you did.
You reached your pale hand out, a finger extending. You placed the end of your bone-like claw on your pointer finger to her temple. She began to wake, you needed to make your decision quickly. In a nervous haste, you extended your arm, puncturing her head, blood spilling onto the ground. Desecrating the soil. Her blood seemed alive, moving towards you, almost in uniform. It formed a hand, and began to crawl to you, as you moved your foot to kick it away, it grabbed hold, and began to seep into your bone like legs. You were overcome with a desire. One considered taboo. The desire to eat your new prey. You fought, in your mind you fought.
While you had been in combat with your inner self, your body was overtaken by instinct, rendering your sentiments useless. You kneeled with great difficulty, pulling yourself away with your bloodied face. The corpse of your victim was mangled beyond recognition, and, in horror of what you were capable of, you looked around.
What you saw was each and every survivor looking at you, some seemed to know each other, and some seemed to know your recent meal personally. You saw their sobbing faces, and began to feel a tinge of empathy, and vanished into the night.
Shrouded in darkness, your pale body began to turn an obsidian black, and you observed in silence. As you saw the survivors, you gathered a few ideas.