Darren didn't stay far from Larten that morning. In fact, he was in the adjacent room with a glass to his ear, the rim of which was pressed against the wall as Darren listened on to his mentor. Even the sound of his alcohol laboured breathing amazed Darren.
Though-out the day he had dreamt of Larten, a sped up version of life together from dawn till dusk, his blooding and Larten's death. Tears would spring up in Darren's eyes if he lingered on those lonely months, where even Harkat, Mr Tall and Vancha couldn't offer if solace.
Not that any of that mattered. Darren couldn't tell Larten anything of his destined future; years of Mr Tiny, Evanna and Mr Tall's gift of foresight but inability to interfere had taught Darren well.
As far as Mr Cre- Larten.
As far as Larten knew, he was a young vampire in the Prime of his life.
"Urgh-urrp!"
Darren chuckled, hearing someone throw up next door and concluding it was either Larten or Westaaaaaar as they had been the most drunk in their group.
Larten lifted his head from the bed pan and looked across at Wester, his blood brother lookingas ill as Larten felt. He wiped the dribble from his chin and rubbed a stray tear from his eye, clearing his throat as he sat back and took in three deep breaths. Boy did he hate hangovers.
"I remember nothing," Wester complained as he sat up very slowly and examined himself carefully.
"I remember getting oral from a whore," Larten laughed, wincing as even his own laughter hurt his throbbing head, "Out in the back. Great pair of bosoms on her in'all. 'Twas a decent attempt too. Her throat will be raw this morning,"
"In your dreams," Wester sniggered, standing up and scratching his crotch as he walked to the window to light up a cigarette.
"What do you mean?" Larten frowned.
Wester laughed himself now, "You making someone's throat ache? Pfft. Your hair might be shocking but there is nought impressive below the belt."
Darren had to step away from the window as a fight appeared to break out, laughing himself a little. Evanna had offered him a chance to finally get to know his mentor in a more in depth way without having to worry about over stepping the pupil-teacher boundaries.
When he heard the two boys next door moving around then exiting their room and walking down the corridor, Darren hurriedly followed, leaving a few seconds after Wester and Larten.
-Le line-
"Extra bacon for you strappin' young men," the land lady stated, dropping extra helpings of pork on Larten and Wester's plate as the two boys shovelled food down their throats in a bid to rid themselves of their hangover.
Though Darren didn't find the food appealing at all, sitting a few tables across and picking at a plate of some strange shit; lard on toast. It was disgusting, worse than the stew Mr Crepsley had Darren make every single day. Ulugh!
"Gonna shave that beard, Wester?" Larten asked between loud and messy eating, burping loudly as he forced himself to drink from a pint mug. Darren couldn't believe how un-Crepsley Larten was acting.
"Don't really think I should," Wester shrugged, slapping his chops, "I'm attempting to grow a moustache,"
Larten's laughter was loud and filled the tavern. "For the love of the Gods, please, please, please grow a moustache. Then stand beside me so that I will appear to be the handsome brother,"
"Sticks and stones, brother, sticks an-" Wester's nose tilted to the roof and he breathed in three deep breaths before looking directly at Darren.
Darren could only stare back, jaw slack as his eyes bulged. BROTHER?
Before Darren knew what was happening, Larten was making a move towards him, fangs bared in a vicious snarl that saw the tavern growing quiet.
"Outside." He spat furiously, grabbing Darren by the shirt and dragging him towards the door that Wester was holding.
Darren could only gulp, nod and stand. Even as a young man, Larten would always be Darren's mentor and, for that reason, Darren would follow his ever order.
