The black haired man drummed his fingers on the wooden arm of his grand chair. The high collared, black doublet and jerkin that he wore contrasted harshly with his death pale skin but he didn't seem to care, if he even noticed. Nor did the man standing before him.
"So. You still plan to leave us, then."
The other shook his blonde head. "Yes, I'm afraid so."
The black haired one frowned slightly and said nothing.
"It's not as though you need me here," protested the blonde gently, "I've never truly fit in here anyway."
"Ah. So you have been chased away by our eating habits. I warn you, will encounter them everywhere you go."
"I know. That's not the only reason I'm leaving – certainly not the main one. I want to see the world. Maybe make a difference. What good is eternity when you don't do anything with it?"
"But we have done something with it! We have made a difference! See what we have done here! You are a part of that."
"I know it makes a difference. My worry is that the difference might not be positive."
"Friend -"
"I don't want to debate now. I'm going to the Americas. I'll become a doctor there. I'll try to redeem the darker parts of my nature."
"Of all of us, your nature is the least in need of redemption. What you do is beyond the control of even my brothers and I. But it is beyond the capabilities of most of our kind. You cannot hate us for that."
"I do not hate you. But I still do not wish to stay."
"I don't think I will ever come to understand your obsession with these humans. We hide from them, denying ourselves to preserve their ignorance, yet your actions are driven by some kind of love or fascination."
"That is where you and I differ. You think of humans as sheep – dangerous sheep, but still, they are nothing more to you than food. Yet you seem to have forgotten that they are us. We were once of their race. Do you feel no empathy to your victims? Do their screams mean nothing? It amazes me that you conscience had not collapsed with the weight of the wrongs you have piled atop it!"
"My conscience does not suffer because I am called to something higher than the preservation of a race that has done more to damage this world than it ever did to help it." His voice was harsh and the fair haired man could tell that the last remark had stung.
"We are no better."
"We will survive long after their race has turned to dust!"
The blonde haired man held up hand. "Peace, Arrigo. I did not mean to fight."
The other sighed and said, "I should not have lost my temper. After three hundred years you would at least expect that much. I'm sorry."
"I should going," said the first.
The other remained silent for a long moment, continuing his constant drumming. "Would you like me to call the others?"
"No. I don't want any ceremony. Besides. I don't want to disturb Marco from his mourning. Adelina was a great loss."
"As you wish." He sighed. "Go now."
The man nodded and started off towards the heavy wooden doors at the end of the room.
"Carlisle?"
He turned back, listening for the seated man's next words.
"Come back some time. I shall miss your company."
"Perhaps I shall," said Carlisle before continuing towards the door.