"Seba!"
Seba spun around to see his assistant standing at the door. A smile instantly spread across Seba's face.
"Larten! I was not expecting you to arrive today," Seba beamed. He took a step forward and "hugged" Larten.
"I left as soon as I got Mika's message," Larten replied while returning the "hug".
"Do you need a room, or do you wish to share one with Vancha?" Larten thought about it, then asked:
"Is there lots of rooms left?"
"Believe it or not, but you are one of the last to arrive," Seba said. "Most are in their rooms, if you noticed how empty the main Hall was. It is very different than Council. But more are still on their way. Not much, but enough."
After seconds of silence, Larten let out a awkward cough.
"Seba, my question has not been answered." Larten quietly said.
"Oh! My apologies. I am getting forgetful in my old age. Since Paris is gone, I am now the oldest vampire living. I had never thought that I would live to be the oldest living vampire."
Larten cocked a eyebrow at his mentor. Seba let out a heavy sigh, then finally answered Larten's question.
"No, the rooms are limited. About seven remain," Seba said, blushing.
"I guess I will share a room with Vancha, then," Larten murmured. He didn't look forward to sharing a room with the smelly Prince, but Larten didn't want to cause any trouble is there was a lack of empty rooms.
"Could you show me where Vancha's room is? I do not know where he went," Larten asked before leaving the room.
"Yes, his room is not far from here." Seba and Larten left the empty room and traveled to the next tunnel over. Seba pointed out one room - larger than the other - and gestured Larten to go in.
"Thank you, Seba. We must have a proper conversation later," Larten hummed.
"That sounds great," And with that, Seba left to prepare the other room they were in. Larten walked into the room while pushing back the cloth that hung over the entrance. Vancha wasn't in the room. Only one coffin and a table with drawers. Vancha didn't use coffins. He was more of a traditionalist, and preferred the "comfy" ground.
Larten helped himself to the casket. He was tired from flitting to the Mountain. Sure he hadn't eaten or fed since he arrived, but he thought that could wait until tomorrow. Larten stepped out of the coffin and took his coat off. He carefully placed the red coat next to the coffin. When the coat hit the ground, a clanking noise came from within. Then he remembered - the bottle of blood he took from the last Way Station he stopped at.
Larten picked up his coat and dug around the pockets until he found the small bottle filled with blood. He popped the lid off and locked his lips around the edge of the bottle. When all of the red liquid was gone, he put the bottle back into the coat pocket.
Climbing into the coffin again, he made himself conferrable. 'Surely Vancha wouldn't mind sharing a room,' Larten thought to himself. He out the coffin's lid on and shut his eyes. A few minutes later, Larten was asleep.
Larten woke up early the next day. He removed the coffin lid off and sat up. While reaching for his coat, he looked over the room. Sure enough, Vancha was sleeping on the floor, clothes on, and a thin blanked on top of him. Larten silently got out of the casket, trying not to wake the Prince. He put his coat on and was about to leave the room.
"Did you get enough sleep?"
Larten winced and turned around to face Vancha. "Good morning, sire," Larten quietly said.
"Where you trying to be quiet?" Vancha asked with a big smile on his face. He was standing now.
"Yes, I thought you were asleep," Larten replied.
"No, I was awake," Vancha simply said. He spat into his palms and rubbed the mucus and spit into his green hair. "I had to wake early anyways."
"Why is that? Larten asked.
"Well, Paris' ceremony is today."