Peace
Alucard was idle.
There were no new books in the library, and the newspapers had long since been read.
Abraham was feeling a bit under the weather, and had retired earlier than usual although he had made an attempt to stay up and socialize before Alucard shooed him off to sleep.
All the staff was asleep in their beds.
While immune to all but extremes of temperature, the wet gloomy British night was not appealing to him.
No traffic passed outside on the road.
Even frightening the troops lacked appeal. He was forbidden to enter, make that even TOUCH the barracks. Abraham had even foreseen the need to keep him from chuckling cruelly outside their windows. Granted, there was a minor appeal in turning wolf and inflicting the haunting, hungry sounds of a howl on the sleeping men, but the appeal was minor.
The wolf form had already hunted out most of the prey on the estate grounds, and he hadn't yet convinced Abraham to either leave out bait to lure in more, or simply buy and release rabbits and other potential prey. Tonight, though, he felt no need to search out the mice or birds that remained.
He'd catalogued the entire house. No room seemed particularly appealing to linger in.
His nightly meal had been comfortably large, rich in both emotions and blood, and not even snacking a bit on the next bottle held any appeal.
By rights, he should be pacing, bored, restless, longing for a hunt or bothering Abraham, but not tonight.
A few moments later, he was on the roof. The wind was clearing off the clouds, and the moon was lovely, full, and low.
Leaning back against the rough roof tiles, moonbeams glowing on his face, he pondered what it was he was feeling.
It took a long time for him to realize that it was simply...contentment.