In all his life, he had never known such a peaceful place.
The weather was freezing, even by vampire standards. For indeed, they were high in the mountains, where the snow was impossibly dense and the winds impossibly frigid. No road existed that would lead them up, and all had trusted in Bunny's direct sense to get them to the top of the mountain. There, on the top of the great Mountain of 'Himmaleh', was the paradise called the Lunar Lamadary.
The men that resided here were mortal, in the physical sense, but their gentle, reserved manners were so refined that they couldn't seem to be anything other than beyond this world. They ate nothing but vegetables and rice - boiled and not the slightest seasoned – and seemed perfectly content with it. They spent hours in mediation, reciting from their holy books and studying the many scrolls flooded in their library. They were kindly, hospitable folk that made sure that their bloodsucking guests were comfortable in their accommodations.
Truthfully, Jack stood out like a sore thumb. His skin was fair and his eyes were blue, compared to the olive hues of their skin and the sparkling opals of their eyes. What more, he had no idea what language they were speaking, so communication was impossible. They would smile slightly whenever he gazed upon a new ritual or an unfamiliar object in dismay, before showing him what to do and how to act.
No blood could be shed on the mountain, which meant that himself and his four fellow vampires, had to descend for feeding before returning back to the Lamadary grounds. It was a tiresome activity, and earnestly, he had begun to loathe the taste of goat blood. It was better than the alternative, his conscience conceded. But the unhappiness that he had during his stay in Calcutta had returned, though he loathed to admit it.
He wasn't completely sure why he still was with these pacifist vampires (for a lack of better name). He didn't think they were terrible, and at times they could be good company (that quiet fellow, Sandy, was an amusing opponent in chess), but he couldn't bring himself to throw his lot with them. He knew that they were firm believers in what they were a part of – whatever it was – and they wanted him to become one of them. They had explained it to him many times, and the arguments were not completely illogical. Yet, at the same time, he could feel his very flesh being repulsed by all they suggested, and even his sound mind found their ideals a little too lofty. It was a lot of 'moral duty' and 'betterment of the world' was a little too overwhelming.
One snowy evening, when they had been engaged indoors locked in such a philosophical discussion, they had invited him to join. He had declined, citing the desire to explore the grounds. However, the truth was that with his speed as vampire, he had in fact gone over the Lamadary grounds at least five times, and there was nothing left in it that really interested him anymore.
"How's the view from there?"
He glanced down from his spot, which was a long, winding branch of a barren birch. There stood the small, baby-faced, balding old fellow that was the 'Great' Manny Lunar.
The 'Great' was in apostrophes because, honestly, he had no idea what was so great about Manny Lunar. Tooth liked to gab on about him a lot. North was always going off to ask him for his opinion over every tiny thing – should red be worn on a day-to-day basis? Was eating fine foods wrong? Was it advisable to get swords, because he really wanted a nice pair of scimitars - you think? Bunny didn't say much about Manny, but when he did, it was always with respect, like the way one would say 'sir' or 'milord'. Sandy didn't say anything at all, because he couldn't speak, but expression alone was enough to convey the reverence and loyalty he felt. Manny would regard Sandy in a similar way too, and Jack suspected that their relationship was more along the lines of brothers-in-arms rather than leader and follower.
But to himself, well, Manny was just a nice, albeit odd fellow, who liked drinking his hot tea out in the cold, chatting with monks in the Lamadary over the literature and charting constellations, as if the stars themselves could speak. Jack didn't really understand what his function was in the grand scheme of…whatever, but if it wasn't for his lack of heartbeat, Jack wouldn't have thought Manny a vampire at all. In fact, sometimes, he actually forgot, since the old fellow never joined them for feeding.
"Got some branches in the way, but it's alright," he called back down. Jack continued to lean back against the trunk of birch, hoping the body language was sufficient to communicate 'I'm being polite, but I'm not really interested in conversation, so please leave me alone. Thanks'.
Unfortunately for him, the bumbling, bald man was terrible at body language. Either that, or he was deliberately ignoring the signals. "Maybe you should try it from down here then."
"But here's nearer to the sky," Jack laughed, crossing his legs over each other.
"Perhaps." Manny shrugged. "But sometimes you need the distance to get a better picture."
He didn't have any arguments against that.
Reluctantly, Jack hopped off his branch, landing deftly on his feet. As he straightened himself up, the boy couldn't help comparing their heights. Manny was only just a bit taller than Sandy, which meant that he was at least a head shorter than himself. His round figure and unassuming air made him so helplessly harmless in appearance. Perhaps that kind of matched his character.
Manny beamed at him, before gesturing him to follow him down the orchard. So Jack did, wondering what the bald man intended.
As they strolled side by side, his uninvited companion gestured up to the black night above. "There. As I promised – the stars."
Jack peered up at the speckled white spots in the distance, before gazing down at the eccentric fellow with a quizzical look.
As if hearing the unasked question, Manny said, "I think by now it would be no mystery to you of how much I admire the constellations. Before I was turned, I had a huge yearning to study them.. And now, I have the privilege to do so." There was a wry smile on his face. "I've always been one for isolation. I'm quite capable of going decades on decades without speaking to a soul – so absorbed I can be, in my study." He sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wonder if it's just an escape from the truth of my unnatural nature. Yet, I know, that escape is but a temporary course, if not followed with solutions."Jack was starting to wonder if there was point this when Manny suddenly turned towards, saying quite pointedly, "I wonder if that might be your story."
The white-haired lad glanced sharply up at him.
"North told me that you've been around for nearly a century, and yet from what I've observed, you seem quite ill at ease about your condition."
"My condition? You make it sound like a disease."
"In some way, it might be."
"Well, there are those who think it's a privilege." Jack thought back to his encounters with the macabre, yet oddly charismatic vampire king.
"Well, both might be simultaneously true and false," was Manny's strange reply. "We have been gifted with remarkable strength, speed, and longevity too. Yet, we also suffer. All else passes away; friends, loved-ones-" Jack masked the tremour of his hands by clenching them in his coat "-allies. Only we remain, prisoners to appetite and violence, to purposeless and wasting. While our bodies last, our souls do not. As every year passes, it becomes harder and harder to recall our humanity."
He could barely remember what he looked like with brown hair, brown eyes and tanner skin. "So that's it, then? It's pointless." When his companion gazed at him confused, he elaborated, "Trying to hold onto our humanity. I mean, time's gonna win out." He groaned, rolling his head back. "Maybe we should just let those hunters kill us. The world would be better would be without creatures like us." As much as he feared the sight of the sharp swords and sharper stakes, being killed would put an end to much of his problems. His shoulders sank. He was tired – so very tired.
"Perhaps." Manny nodded. "Perhaps the world would be better without vampires. The world would probably better be without humans, too, actuallyl. If self-destruction is our only solution, I'd have to say that we haven't thought hard enough."
Jack's brow quirked at the odd phrasing.
"Dying's hard. Living's harder. Being at the cross-road between the two is the very worst. But in the worst of circumstances is also what brings out the best in us – whether human or nosferatu. Under this condition we have, I dare to think that it might be, rather than a curse, a second chance."
"A second chance? For what?"
"To live." His smile was mysterious. "To give what we could not give before." He turned around, indicating to Jack to the same. He waved over to the stone houses with their slanted roofs, glowing lights evident from the windows. "When I first came out here to the Himmaleh, I had done so in order to isolate myself. One morning, I found a throng of children lost in the snow. They were from a monastery that had collapsed in itself during a blizzard, and having nowhere to go, so they had wandered in the mountains. They would have frozen to death otherwise. So I built lodging for them and made sure they were fed. They gained an interest in the stars, so I taught them. I taught all they knew, and soon the elders taught the youngers ones, and when those grew up, they taught those younger than they. Those who travelled sometimes brought back orphans from the street or other abandoned children. They nursed and fed them back to health, and they stayed on. I might have come here to study the stars, but instead I learned what I did not manage to learn as a human."
"What?"
"To love." Manny's face almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. "To have compassion and kindness. To care for a fellow being as oneself."
"But I thought vampires can't love," Jack's thoughts floated to the vampire princess Emily Jane, so beautiful and yet so bitter.
"It doesn't come naturally, for some more than others." The bald fellow kept his statement vague purposely. "But it can be learned, through experiencing it oneself and giving it."
As Jack digested this thought, he couldn't help wondering about a teeny plot-hole in Manny's tale. "Um, can I ask a question?"
"By all means."
"Have you ever wanted to feed on these-" he gestured towards the houses "-I mean, you live in such close proximity with them and all that, and I hardly see you feed-"
"Ah, yes." Manny let out a light-hearted chuckle, like he had been expecting this. "Well, in my time of isolation, I had learned to feed on the blood of animals, and learned how to drink copious amounts of tea along with that. I had studied my diet carefully, and found that it was possible to lower my intake of blood gradually by taking my mind off feeding. I trained myself to feed only at certain times, and only in certain amounts. It took decades for the tiniest decrease, but it has worked. As of today, I haven't fed since-" he scrunched his face up "-three months ago. If I'm not wrong, my next need to feed would be two months from now."
Jack's jaw fell open. He felt a surge of respect for the bald old fellow before him.
"It's hard work, and the temptation is real," Manny admitted, "but it is possible."
"Is that what Bunny's been working on?" Jack could recall that time when the fore-mentioned vampire had given some speech in the Necropolis about research.
"He's trying to find alternatives. Not many vampires are interested in diet plan that doesn't involved immediate satisfaction. It would be unrealistic to hope they would train themselves the way I did. Even I wouldn't go through the process again, if I knew how long I'd take."
Manny shuddered briefly as he recalled those days, before continuing, "No, he, as well as some other colleagues I have across the globe, are searching for various methods of feeding while avoid killing humans and increasing the satiety of animal blood. Many have dabbled in magic – a dangerous field that yields very little success. Witches are not the most trustworthy folks around."
The bald fellow shook his head disapprovingly. "Bunny's the only I know who has experimented with human foods. A daring enterprise, but the most promising so far. He mightn't be able to conduct the large scale experiment that we had hoped for, not without the financial and resource support. But we might be able to conduct a small group study of sorts." He seemed thoughtful as he turned to Jack, "Might you be interested participate?"
Before Jack could answer, or even consider, this out-of-the-blue offer, a frantic figure came rushing towards them. It was one of the monks from the Lamadary. He paid Jack no mind, speaking hastily to Manny instead. Whatever he said made the old fellow stiffen up. For the first time since he had arrived, Jack noted an expression that almost bordered on anger upon on the gentle vampire's face.
Without waiting to explain himself, Manny took off in the snow, his inhuman speed leaving no tracks in the snow. Leaving the flustered monk behind, Jack followed suit, sprinting after him.
There was a bit of commotion at the gate of Lamadary, and in fact, there was no more gate anymore, for it had been blasted to splintered. Several monks were lying in the snow, unmoving. Their weapons of defence had been shredded to bits and their bodies bruised.
The one responsible for the carnage was in the process of dropping another monk that he had been holding. That monk's face was white, and he let out an odd gurgling sound as blood spurted out of his neck. Jack stepped hastily away, thankful that the chilling wind blew the scent away.
Manny however dashed forward, using his own robes to press on the wound, barking instructions to the other monks who were still standing. The frightened monks came forward and did their best to tend to their dying comrade, while the bald vampire glared up at the culprit.
The slender figure draped in black wasn't the slightest repentant, merely wiping his crimson-stained lips with the back of his hand. His fangs were bared prominently in his cocky grin.
"No blood is to be spilled on the mountain," Manny told him in a tone that was almost…threatening?
The vampire king merely rolled his eyes. "After they've massacred our kinsman, you still defend them? As always, I can't tell if you're illogical or amoral, my loony Lunar." His golden eyes flitted to the boy's, sending shivers down his spine. "Ah, Jack Frost! I'm glad to see you survived that terrible attack on the Necropolis. Alas,-" his mocking gaze fell back on the short, round vampire "-you've ended up in the hands of the world's most annoying immortal."
"You're not welcome here, Pitch." It might have just been Jack's imagination, but Manny's form really seemed to be surrounded an ominous whitish-blue aura.
"Come, come, now. Be reasonable, old friend," Pitch's drawled in a tauntingly cordial manner. "We two are the last leaders of vampires society as we know it. Surely, we can be civil with each other?"
Jack held his breath while the small, portly vampire bore his eyes into the gaunt, bony form. The aura that surrounded Manny then faded, and he gestured for Pitch to follow him. "Hurt a hair on anyone here and you'll regret it."
"We'll play it on your terms," agreed Pitch indulgently. "For now."
As the two older vampires moved through the snow, towards the stone houses, Jack caught sight of the monks gathered around their fallen brother, weeping openly in their blood-stained robes.
~~~0~~~
Blood Bread (by Sandy)
1.5 cups of graham flour
2 cups bread flour
3 cups medium rye flour
3/8 cup melted shortening
2 cups of pork blood
1 tablespoon of active dry yeast
0.5 cup warm water (body temperature)
1 cups boiling water
1.5 teaspoons salt
1.5 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon of oil
1) Soak the yeast in warm water. Allow to soften.
2) In separate mixing bowl, pour in graham flour and boiling water. Mix till smooth.
3) Pour in yeast mixture.
4) Mix in melted shortening, salt, allspice, blood until well-mixed.
5) Mix in blood until well blended
6) Mix in rye flour and bread flour 1 cup at a time
7) Keep blending or mixing by hand stir until dough no longer sticks sides of the bowl.
8) Sprinkle flour over the top of the dough. Leave to rise till doubled in size.
9) Punch the dough down for...
And that's where he had to stop and think. Was it 5 minutes? 10 minutes?
Bunny pressed his knuckles against his chin as he squinted at the computer screen before him, not quite sure what to do.
The truth was that he was not exactly very adept with electronics. Pin it down with old age, or plain stubbornness, but the pen was still his medium of choice. He liked the feel of paper under his hands and the smell of ink in his cursives, so he had never really seen the advantage of the digital realm.
Except, well, they were not quite as reliable as electronic copies.
Staring at the screen was doing no favours to his memory, so Bunny pushed himself off his seat. Immediately, he winced, for the muscles under his shirt screamed at his inconsideration. Grunting, he hobbled to the other end of his room, out through the door. He glanced out in the corridor, hoping that Sandy himself would be in easy access so that he could clarify his doubts. In a house as big as theirs, however, chance deemed that he would not find the small vampire in immediate vicinity.
As luck would have it, however, Tooth was in the nearby tearoom, humming some eighties' hit. Limping forward, he entered that room. She was sorting out the porcelain ornaments from display cupboard in terms of value, before wrapping them and setting them in cardboard boxes.
"Hey," he greeted her.
She sat upright, glancing sharply towards him like a deer in the headlights. Her face suddenly turned deep crimson, before her chiding tone came on, "Bunny! You shouldn't up and about. The doctor said-"
"Yes, yes," Bunny cut in, making a scoffing sound. The young human doctor that tended to him, though sweet looking in appearance, was very much a dictator over her patients. It had been only after endless pleas that she had permitted Bunny to sit at his desk, but still forbade him from moving around. He didn't understand why Jack thought of her as nice. Dr. Fitzherbert might have a smile plastered permanently to her face, but she was anything but nice.
Not like Tooth, who by the very definition of her name was sweet, caring, with an element of long-suffering…
And also staring at him with an intensity that he didn't quite understand. She'd been doing quite a bit of that recently."What?"
The girl just blushed and looked away, folding up one of the teacups in newspaper. Scooping a yellow-green lock behind her ear, she said, "You wanted to ask me something?"
He had noticed how she dodged his question, but decided not to comment on it. "Blood Bread, by Sandy. Page 34. Do you remember how long you punch the bread?"
Tooth shot a puzzled expression at him.
"Blood Bread, by Sandy. Page 34," Bunny repeated more slowly. "Do you remember how long do you punch the bread?
As if awakening from a paralysis of thought, Tooth inquired, brow raised, "You mean knead the bread."
"I remember he wrote 'punch'."
"The proper term is 'knead'."
"Kneading would require using the heel of one's palm," he said in total seriousness. "Punching would be using one's knuckles. They are very different."
Her voice sounded incredulous. "What kind of recipe demands for punching?"
"A recipe that takes itself seriously. It's bread. Anyway,-" his ribs suddenly flared up, making him hiss and grab at it.
"Bunny!" The girl had abandoned her porcelain pieces and was by his side, eyes large with concern. "You should go lie back down."
He let out a low growl, batting off her worried hands. I'm fine. Just tell me how long the punching is - 5 minutes or 10?" Tooth had ignored his attempts to wave her away, already looping her arm under his and pulling his body back out of the tearoom. "C'mon, 5 or 10?"
"You need rest."
"But 5 or 10?"
"I'll tell you after you've rested."
"Tooth! C'mon!"
Thankfully, she permitted him to go back to his desk, provided that he 'gave a holler' before trying to move anywhere else himself. Disgruntled, Bunny stared back at the document on the screen and tried to type out everything else that he remembered.
10) Transfer to load pan.
10) Allow dough to double in size. Meanwhile, preheat oven.
11) Grease top of loaves before baking them for an hour, or till tops have browned.
12) Serve with sandwiches, or each on its own. My personal preference is toasting it and dipping in fresh blood.
Bunny grabbed his hair in frustration, letting out a growl. He couldn't actually remember if it was 'dipping in fresh blood' or 'spreading with blood'. If he knew how to search for it on the Internet, he would have done so. But he didn't, because he wasn't Tooth, who worked enough in the human world to have learned computers, or Jack, who had to use such devices in his school.
He wanted the cookbook back. It wasn't just for sentimental reasons. He really, really, couldn't remember all the recipes, which were after all the fruits of his research.
So he just stared at the screen. Eventually, he picked up both screen and monitor and smashing them into the wall. He grinned grimly as the plastic pieces were collasped to bits and the glaring screen fizzed out into a black haze.
A few seconds later, a figure appeared around the door. It was the doctor, with her long yellow-braid hanging behind her.
"What on Earth was that noise?" Her eyes darted from the battered computer to the vampire reclined back in his chair, bearing an innocent expression. Placing a hand on her hip, she reprimanded him, "You shouldn't be exerting yourself, especially upper body muscles."
"It didn't hurt," he protested as she marched up to him, squinting at his bandages.
"Doesn't mean that you didn't shift bones," Dr. Fitzherbert told him disapprovingly. She adjusted one of the knots that had become undone. "Healing for vampires is a rather precarious thing. Jack only healed as fast as he did because he's much younger than you."
Bunny looked sceptical. "That's actually a factor?" He glanced at the clock, a disturbed thought rising in him as he considered the time. "Where is that cheeky bugger anyway? It's almost past dinner time."
As if to answer him, the slamming of a car door was heard in the distance – an unfamiliar car. Well, it was heard by his super-sharp vampire ears at least, and not by the doctor's human ones. So when he frowned and got up from his seat, she was naturally furious. That fury only increased when he hobbled past her and out of the room.
His speed of moving across the corridor and down the stairs should have been surprising for his injuries, but Bunny was a very stubborn fellow, and stubborn people were very good at ignoring glaring bouts of pain, even when they shouldn't.
When he was about to turn down to the hallway, he bumped into the white-haired lad himself. Schoolbag slung over his shoulder and jumper ruffled, the teenager greeted him tiredly, "Oh, you're up and about."
Bunny ignored him briefly in favour of glancing out of the nearby window, where the sleek white body of a police car zoomed past. He spun back to Jack and said, quiet but deadly, "What. Did. You. Do."
"Nothing."
Bunny narrowed his eyes down at him.
"I'm serious – I didn't do anything! The police was just giving me a ride from the station."
"The police station?"
Jack dragged out a groan. "No. I'm not in trouble. It's just something happened in school today and I-" he smacked his forehead "-I suppose Rapunzel will have to know too."
Now the older vampire frowned, because he was lost. "What? What happened?"
"You'll see it in the paper tomorrow." Jack just tapped him absentmindedly on the shoulder before strolling straight past him.
Bunny however was not easily deterred. He hopped after the boy, his ribs berating him as he did. "Whoa, whoa, kid. What exactly did you get mixed up into?"
"Nothing. I told you."
"It's not nothing if it's got the police. Is it the Arendelle girl? The one that stabbed me? The one that didn't?"
"No, it's not either of them." Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, as contemplating whether he should tell him. "If you really want to know, a corpse was found in my locker today, and it'll be all over the press because the school was flooded with cameras after the blood donation drive-"
"Wait." Bunny's eyes widened as they made a turn round the corner, heading towards the kitchen. "You went for the drive? Are we discussed specifically about how you wouldn't?" His frown deepened even more. "Did you kill that girl?"
"What? NO." The boy sounded disgusted, so he was telling truth – probably. "There was a lot of media people around there, and they got pictures of me at the crime scene. The police don't think I did it though, because hiding a body I killed in my own locker is stupid. But they want me to stay around for questioning, and maybe to testify in court."
The older vampire's brows furrowed together. "But we're planning to move out this Sunday. Did you tell them?"
"How could I? They'd ask why." He pushed open the kitchen door, holding it open for his injured companion. "Leaving all of a sudden looks very suspicious."
Bunny sighed, but he couldn't disagree. "Did you recognise the body?"
Jack sighed, and nodded.
"Who?"
Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the sound of pattering feet and one slender, cross-looking Dr. Fitzherbert had entered the scene. Her arms were akimbo as she told her errant patient off, "Seriously, you shouldn't be running around like that, Mr. Bunnymund. You're only going to make your recovery much slower than it – oh, hello there, Jack." Some of her anger dissipated when she saw the boy and his downtrodden manner. "Why, whatever's the matter?"
The boy hesitated. It was obvious that he was debating with himself on how to tell speak to her.
Eventually, Bunny got fed up with waiting and said, "Some poor girl was murdered at his school. The body ended up in his locker too."
The blonde woman let out a loud gasp, covering her mouth. "That's horrible. Jack, is it anyone you knew?"
Jack slid himself into a seat, grabbing one of the cookies sitting on the table – who baked it, Bunny didn't know. It wasn't from the cookbook. He took a bite and swallowed. Finally, he said, without looking at the doctor, "It's Merida."
That name meant nothing to Bunny, but it must have a struck a cord with the blonde doctor, for her bright green eyes went as large as dinner plates and she staggered away, her back hitting against the kitchen door. Her body just stiffened up and her arms were trembling as she grabbed the door knob for support. All that came out from her mouth was, "Oh."
He was a gruff old grumbler, but he was still decent at his core. So Bunny took Dr. Fitzherbert by the arm and helped her to sit down. She allowed him to lead her, for her face was still fixed to the front, pale and frozen in shock.
"You alright?" Jack asked, probably regretting saying anything to her.
"I'm-I'm-" the words from her were fragments, almost intelligible "-she-how did she-?"
The boy could only shrug.
"Excuse me." Dr. Fitzherbert abruptly rose to her feet. She marched her way out of the kitchen. "I think I need some fresh air."
"Of course," Bunny said, while Jack offered, "I'll go with you."
"No, no." She shook her head, letting out a half-hearted laugh. "Please don't trouble yourselves. I'll be fine." She disappeared down the corner with hands wrapped around her elbows, long golden braid flapping behind.
All that filled the kitchen afterwards was Jack's munching on the cookies. Bunny had continued to stare at the doorway long after the doctor's form had vanished from view.
Finally, he said to the boy, "You should go check on her."
"I don't know. She did seem like she wants to be alone."
"Yeah, but it's getting dark. A young woman shouldn't be out after dark in these parts."
"She's not actually a young woman, you know. She got at least three digits in her age."
"But she's not a vampire, nor does she have our abilities," Bunny pointed out. "Go and check on her or I'll throw you after her. I taught you to be a gentleman, not a lazy oaf."
"I'm not an oaf and you didn't teach me anything, fuzzball." Nonetheless, Jack did rise from his seat and headed off in the direction that the doctor had gone to.
When he had disappeared from view, Bunny muttered, "Insolent brat."
"I heard that," Jack's voice wafted down the corridor.
~~~0~~~
"I'm so sorry for the whole blood part. I forgot that blood is a delicacy that most people dislike."
"It's quite alright, my dear." He waved off her apologies as he continued to politely consume the rest of his soup. Earlier, when she had served the humble meal to her guest of an unknown name, she had added in her stir-fried blood pieces. These had proven to be quite repulsive to him, as it would with most people, and she cursed herself for not remembering that. He was not offended though, and scooped out the blood portions so that she might add it to her own bowl. "Blood is a delicacy that I do enjoy, but only of the finer quality. Freezing changes the taste."
"Oh." Elsa turned crimson, cursing her own ignorance about cuisine, and cooking in general. Hoping to that he'll forget her blunder, she quickly switched the topic. "Do you like East Asian cuisine?"
"Well." The eccentric stranger pressed the back of forefinger against his underlip as he thought. "It's generally flavourful, I suppose, but I find much prefer South Asian. I've spent quite a number of years around the Indus region, you see."
"Wow." This was the first bit of personal information that she had managed to extract from him thus far – which surprising, since they've spoken quite a bit. The girl poked around at the ramen noodles, before shoving one of the blood piece in her mouth and swallowing. "You worked there?"
"Yes. I was attempting to establish a cooperation of sorts there."
So he was a businessman? It would make sense, given his refined manners and his air of authority. Yet, she couldn't imagine a figure so out-of-world sitting behind a desk and answering a phone. "Did you succeed?"
"Unfortunately, no." He grimaced, drawing his jaw up tight. "My foes had been swift to squash my enterprise. Since then, I've been drifting here and there, seeing if I might gain a foothold somewhere."
"I see."
"What of you, my dear? You are currently in school, are you not?"
Elsa lowered some noodles into her spoon with chopsticks and immersed it into the soup. "Well, yes." She forced herself to swallow it down.
"I see." From the first time, she had noticed how mysterious his eyes were. They were usually dark black, but from time to time they would flicker to another shade – grey, brown, even gold. Now, they were shifting a shade that seemed yellowish-grey, before melding back into a full grey. "You enjoy it?"
The blonde girl shrugged, piling up more noodles in her spoon, interspersed with more of the blood bits. "Not really. It's just for college, and stuff."
"Ah, so that is the goal of your life then – college?"
She couldn't help smiling slightly at his odd phrasing. "It's more a short-term goal. I guess the real goal is getting a job."
"A job? Is that all you've planned in your life?"
The answer 'yes' was on her lips, but just briefly, she got a vision. It was blurred beyond belief, but she could see a house in the idyllic suburbs, with children playing in the gardens. She herself was standing at the edge of the house, still garbed in her formal working attire, gazing affectionately at the scene before her. Someone came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a kiss on her neck and murmuring sweet nothings -
She shook her head. She hadn't honestly had dallied with such dreams since she entered high school, after she had seen her parents mutilated before her very eyes. In that very moment, she had grown up. She had no longer believed in idyllic suburbs or idyllic families anymore than she believed in magic. Her ambitions had turned to bettering their dark, horrid world in whatever little way she could – that was the whole goal behind the whole 'Social Awareness Student Society', as a student-level experiment of a non-profit that she hoped to be working in one day. Perhaps the cause she would fight for would be road safety. Or orphans. Or survivors with severe PTSD.
Yet when the daydream played in her head this time, she was pretty sure that the one who had his arms around her waist had snowy-white hair.
"I guess I would like to live a life of purpose," Elsa answered at last, clearing up the rest of the blood pieces in her soup and placing it in her spoon. The noodles were too boring anyway to eat anyway. "To know that I've contributed something in my short time here on Earth."
"A worthy goal," praised her guest. "After all, one doesn't know when out last day would be. In the face of such, it would be folly not to make it count.
They went on to discuss more matters, of family, of prudence and justice. Elsa tried not to think about the hypothetical suburban house and the hypothetical family she probably couldn't afford with her likely future NGO career.
Eventually, it was amicably agreed between the two of them that her meal was perhaps not that tasty and there wasn't much of a point in finishing it. The stranger wouldn't allow her to be embarrassed by her lack of cooking skills though, saying that it was a gracious gift that she prepared such for him regardless.
The young hostess carried the two bowls back to the kitchen, regretfully pouring the tasteless soup into the sink and dumping the bland noodles into the bin. Fearing that her guest might still be hungry, she went to the fridge and looked for anything else available for consumption. "Would you like some chocolate cake?"
"No thank you, my dear, but that is a considerate offer," came the reply from the dining room. Elsa bit her lip as she gazed at the cake tin, before deciding that she wasn't really craving for it and shut the fridge door. She instead decided to make some tea for the both of them, since that was something that she knew how to prepare correctly.
When she carried the cups out, she found her guest pacing the dining room, only stopping when he noticed her return. After she set the two cups down on the table, he did not seat himself, merely glancing down at her with an unreadable expression.
Sensing something amiss, the blonde girl inquired, "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no, not at all." He shook his head, but he wasn't being honest. Somehow, Elsa just knew that.
"I'm really sorry about dinner." If he wasn't going to speak up about it, then she would. "I know that it wasn't very good, so if you didn't like it-"
"To be frank, my dear Elsa, I never came in here for the dinner. Or the tea."
Her brows lifted in surprise and she cocked her head towards him, puzzled.
The tall man with the dark garb gestured towards the chair near her. "Will you not take a seat?"
She frowned, but did as he requested.
"I apologise if I sound very forward, but I cannot suppress the truth any longer." The stranger drew himself upright before her, readjusting his coat the way he often did. "I have admired you greatly since our first encounter, and with every subsequent one, that admiration has only increased."
Oh, that's ni - no, wait. She sat up straight in alarm. WHAT?
"You have faced great adversity from such a young age, and have managed to overcome it with determination and courage. You have the bearing of a queen though not birth of royalty and a maturity far beyond your years. No poetry I could weave could ever describe the exquisite beauty that you are." His tone was velvety and warm. It was like music, soothing and sweet, yet with a dark, haunting undertone. "I've sought so long for one who worthy to be at my side, and I have seen in you the culmination of every trait that I'd have ever desired in a consort. You are the epitome of perfection itself."
Consort? What was she now – Cinderella? What on Earth was going on? Elsa blinked, but the peculiar scene happening before her eyes did not disappear.
"Thus, I ask –nay, beg- most humbly, that you might -" he abruptly lowered himself down onto a knee – why was he kneeling? Why? – and took both her hands in his "-do me the honour of being my bride."
She stared at him, dumbstruck.
This had to be a dream. A very weird dream that she was going to wake up from. Either that, or it would start raining meatballs and signal the end of the world.
A minute later, she did not wake up, the sky did not rain meatballs and the world did not end. And a complete stranger was still on his knee, waiting for her reply to his unexpected proposal.
A proposal.
An actual marriage proposal.
This had to be a joke. It had to be.
Yet, she knew this pale, eccentric man before her was not the type to joke. She didn't know how she knew – she just did. He was absolutely serious.
She had to resist the urge to throw up.
"You do not answer – why?"
"Look." Elsa withdrew her hands from his as quickly as she could, hastily pushing herself to her feet and stepping back. "I don't know what impression I gave you, but-" he rose to his feet, making as if to approach her, only to halted by her lifted palms "-I'm definitely, definitely not interested in marriage at this point of my life. I mean, I'm, well, eighteen!"
"It's not a matter of interest or age," the peculiar stranger – or more accurately, the peculiar and stranger suitor, of all things – said in a puzzled matter. "It's a matter of destiny. Clearly, you feel drawn to myself as much as I to-"
"Okay, okay, stop right there," the girl interrupted, aghast how this bizarre situation was spiralling out of control. Rubbing her gloved fingers against her temple, she scrambled for how best to phrase herself without sounding too cruel. "Look, I'm really, really grateful for the times that you helped me, like on Monday night in the rain and today with the groceries. And I've enjoyed talking to you – really, I have. But-" Elsa raised her arms in frustration "-I don't even know your name!"
There was a gold fleck glinting off the corner of his pupil, and his tone was deadly still. "Are you sure about that?"
"I-I-" Elsa gawked at him, jaw hanging open. In the back of her head, two words rose to mind, but she shoved it away, considering them irrelevant to her present situation. "Look, this is all very weird. You're at least-" she winced "-ten years, or more, older than me. We don't know anything about each other and frankly, dropping this bomb on me without warning is highly inconsiderate and not exactly normal social behaviour. So, if you don't mind-" she let out a deep exhale, dropping back in the dining room seat while carding a hand through her hair "-would you please go and let's pretend this never happened?"
Very briefly, she felt a wave of something radiate off him – surprise, a bit of hurt. But it was nothing compared to the subsequent burst of heat – rage. Yet, when Elsa glanced up at her strange guest, his angular face bore no expression. He merely nodded at her, before spinning on his heel and heading out of the dining room, through the living room and out of the hall. The girl let out a huge sigh of relief when she heard the door close behind him.
Elsa shut her eyes, hands hooking to the back of her neck as she stared heavenward, pleading why, or why that did weird things like this have to happen to her.
Now that her guest had departed, she could have easily believed that all that had occurred was merely a dream. The two cups of steaming tea before her however dispelled any such thoughts. Those, and the glittering object next to one cup that didn't belong to her.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Elsa reached for the object and found it to be a ring. It was delicate thing, made from woven golden strands, allowing it to resemble the weaving of cords. Encrusted at its centre was a finely-cut sapphire, glowing a shade that matched her eyes.
She trembled as she enclosed the little ornament in her palm, trying to tell herself that the significance was merely in her imagination. Even if the stranger wasn't completely out of his mind – which he was, by the way – and fully intended to propose to her, it'd be impossible for him to have found such a fine piece of jewellery so soon after meeting her, and certainly not one that matched her eyes. How many days has it been – three? Four?
"Not days," a voice in her head whispered to her.
Pushing herself off from her seat, she hurried to the door. It wasn't too late yet – he'd be still climbing the stirrups to get onto his steed. Bursting out of the house, she called, "Wait! You forgot your-"
The road was empty. The fence where he had tied his horse had no sign of being tempered with. He must have left quite quickly.
"Elsa?"
She jumped, shrieking, only to stop when she realised it was just Anna walking down the driveway. The girl was carrying two carrier bags, looking extremely exhausted, but still flashed a welcoming smile.
That smile however faded when she saw how pale her sister's face was. "What's wrong?"
The blonde girl glanced around them, before asking slowly, "When you came up the drive way, did you see someone leaving? Like a man on horse, perhaps?"
"No, I didn't see anyone on anything." Anna eyed her with concern. "You feeling okay?"
The fatigue that she had felt earlier in the day had started to return to her and Elsa felt a huge desire to crawl in bed. From now on, she wasn't going to talk to strangers – any strangers – even if they had rescued her from the rain. This whole experience was too mortifying for words, not to mention majorly creepy. "Not really, I guess."
"Alright, let's get back inside." Gently, the younger ushered the older back towards the house. "Anyway, I've got some exciting news to share with you. Well, I suppose-" she bit her lip thoughtfully "-it's exciting or terrible depending on how you look at it."
Elsa wasn't really listening, no matter how bright and energetic her sister was. She was twirling the gold ring in her gloved palm, mulling over the two words that had floated to her mind when he had asked if she really didn't know his name.
Pitch Black.
That wasn't a name. It sounded more like an adjective. Like a colour. Just a way of describing a colour. She was just making things up, as usual.
But then it struck her that he had called her by name, though she had never told him what it was.
~~~0~~~
He had lived many different lives before – thief, prince, exile, refugee, mercenary, soldier, teacher, and so forth. He had too gone by many names, some for the sake of ego, and others for the sake of safety.
Not his safety though. After so many years, he had ceased to live for himself – if his accursed existence was counted as living.
"Rider, you got that?"
"Yep." He wrote everything down on his notepad before undoing his seatbelt. "Got any info from the coroner?"
"Not yet. So far, they determined that she wasn't killed by the beheading."
"Oh?" He climbed out of the car, phone pressed against his shoulder.
"That only came after. Doesn't look like a knife job though. They suggest a longer blade? I dunno."
"Well, if you want me to keep helping in the case, keep me informed." He ascended the steps to the porch, removed his keys and slotted them in the lock.
"Sure thing, Mr. Rider. When do you think you can come to Burgess? Sheriff wants to your opinion about the Dursley and Arendelle cases respectively. He's still convinced they're by the same person."
"I rather doubt it." He stabbed the switch with his elbow while closing the door. As the yellow lights splashed themselves on the painted murals of the hall, he turned the lock and left the key ring on the wall hook. "Dursley's was outright brutality – like an animal attack. But the Arendelle and Dunbroch? Both a tad too theatrical."
There was a pause. "I don't get it, sir."
"Those two attacks were a little too elegant, arranged as if the killer meant for the victims to be found." He scratched the little goatee at the end of his chin. "The only question is why one's alive and the other not."
"Well, you'll have to convince him yourself, Mr. Rider. The Sheriff is really set on the idea that they are all by the same fellow."
"I'll talk to him tomorrow," he assured his comrade as he headed passed the living room and headed to the kitchen. "Thanks Conli. Have a goodnight."
"No problem, Mr. Rider. Goodnight."
The call was ended and thus working hours were over – until they called him again, of course. Flynn Rider, or as we better know him as, Eugene Fitzherbert tugged at his tie until it came undone in his hand. Throwing it over his shoulder, he headed to the fridge-room. There, amongst all the bags of human blood, he found a box of the expired ones. These ones were no longer suitable for transplant, but good enough for consumption. He took one of the bags and headed back to the kitchen.
Their kitchen had more equipment than it had food, because Rapunzel loved experimenting with new machines, gadgets and techniques. One thing she loved about the 21st Century was the Internet. Learning to cook had never been easier and she delighted in how widely her array of cooking skills had grown.
Unfortunately, she wasn't at home right now. She was still in Burgess at the Guardians house. He didn't like the arrangement, but she insisted it was the most efficient way of doing things and he didn't like to refuse her. That meant that he would be consuming his dinner on his own, however.
He cut open the blood bag and poured its content in to a bowl. He then covered the bowl with a towel and put it in the microwave, setting it for 2 minutes. The thing was pretty much just a block of ice, after all.
As he waited, he checked his phone for messages. There were a couple from his wife, asking him how the case was going and telling him to feed himself properly. That was about five hours ago and Eugene wondered if she had discovered the developments of the case yet. Burgess was a much smaller town compared to Corona and word there spread much quicker.
Call it obsessive, unhealthy even, but her happiness was all that he really wanted. Eugene knew that she loved interacting with people, hearing their stories and fears and dreams. She had such a soft heart for them that he often felt ashamed of himself. Since childhood, self-interest had always been his driving motivator. He was a survivor – scum of the Earth, but he lived. But not Rapunzel – no, she was driven by her passion, her love, her curiosity, her enthusiasm for all that was beautiful, apparent or obscured. It was her mission, as an artist, to uncover the brightest spot in the world that all might rejoice in it. How did scoundrel like himself end up with a saint like her, he'd never know.
The timer on the microwave went off and he removed the bowl. At once, Eugene was hit by the scent of sweet iron, so raw and so red. His rumbling tummy gurgled appreciative as he drank a mouthful straight off the rim, before heading upstairs with his meal of the day.
When they had moved here, it had been about twenty years since the first time she had gotten her M.D.. But a little tweaking of her old certificates and forging some convincing documents gave them a house of their own, in addition to a job that she like. He didn't actually need to work, since she was earning more enough to cover their expenses, but he did because it kept him busy, and more importantly, it kept her happy. He didn't mind awfully, because he loved a good mystery and Corona had plenty to keep him occupied.
But Burgess? Burgess he had mixed feelings about.
Rapunzel had a lot of 'special' patients from there. It had started because she had treated one of them by chance, then somehow word got out and since then, there's a gradual growth in the number of patients on her secret registry. She usually didn't charge, because, well, he was technically one of them and so was she, so why charge kinsmen?
Gah, kinsmen. He hated thinking himself as one of them. He hated even more thinking of her as one of them. When he took on cases from that side of town, it was just for entertainment, occasionally for justice, but never, never because he felt an affinity for the monsters that dwelled there.
Eugene headed to the study room; an airy, open working space with a huge window that looked over to the vast forestry that surrounded their isolated bungalow. Rapunzel's desk, complete with computers, files and textbooks, was on the far right of that window while his was on the far left. He flicked on the lights for his half of the room, dropping the bowl of blood on his neatly aligned table as he did. He removed his notebook from his pocket, flipping it open.
His relationship was the police force of the was much like one's relationship with the IRS - frustrating, but necessary, if one was going to stay on the right side of the law. They had issues, they asked him for help, he helped, and they paid him. That happened quite a lot, because there were apparently lot of weird things that happened across the township that the force was in charge of. Murder was still a bit on the rare side – till recently.
As he flipped through the notebook and slurped on his bloody meal, his eyes fell onto the other end of study room, still masked in darkness. Rapunzel's laptop lay closed next to a pile of neatly-stacked journals. The stationary had been arranged back into their respective divisions in the pencil holder and the centre of the desk was cleared from all unnecessary products. The trash had been cleared and the tissue box refilled. It was very neat. Very ordered.
Very wrong.
He picked up his phone, tapping on the first name that appeared on his contacts. He pressed the phone to his ear and waited, still staring at the desk across his own in disbelief.
"Hello?" Rapunzel sounded tired. "Eugene?"
"Hey, Sweetheart," he tried to make his tone cheerful. "Just wanted to check – have you been home recently?"
"Home? Err, no. I haven't returned to Corona since arriving at the Guardian's place."
"Okay," Eugene kept his tone calm as he carefully folded his note book back up. "Not even to get your meds?"
"Meds? What meds? I got all the meds I need here."
"I mean for yourself."
"Oh, those meds. Hmm..."
He narrowed his eyes. "Rapunzel?"
Before he could get a reply, however, he caught a brief flash of light reflecting off the window. He spun around -
- just in time to catch sight of a blade descending over his head.
Twisting himself off the chair, he watched as the sword struck his desk instead, splitting it apart. Splinters flew into his face and the bowl of blood overturned itself over his notebook.
Eugene sighed.
The wielder of weapon, draped in a dark cloak, whipped about and slashed the blade at him. The vampire rolled swiftly away, hopping to his feet and lashing forward. With his superior speed, he managed to grab the assailant's arm. One swift jerk later, the sword was knocked from his hand. One elbow snap later, and the masked fellow was screaming in agony.
Not missing a beat, the vampire's other hand went for his assailant's neck, only to draw it back sharply afterwards. Eugene could feel a tingling sensation running down his arm, spread from the area of contact. His foe was wearing silver armour. Just peachy.
Hateful green eyes gleamed briefly over the mask, before the attacker's good hand whipped out a dagger. In his shock, Eugene barely registered the moment where the blade slashed him from temple to lip. He staggered back whilst swearing, pressing on the wound that was burning his face. Half his vision had gone red.
The assailant adjusted his grip on his wooden dagger before thrusting at him again, but one eye was enough to warn the vampire. Eugene easily dodged this strike before swiping a kick at his foe's legs. The assailant couldn't react quickly enough and trip over, making the vampire grin despite his smarting countenance.
"Alright, let's not be stupid." He removed his gun, the same that he had strapped on his person all times. He pointed the barrel down at his fallen assailant, who was now gasping for breath and cradling his dislocated arm. "You don't want to die, and I don't want to kill you. So tell me-"
And then suddenly, his assailant's arm snapped back with a loud 'pop' place. He twisted it and rolled it back, and just like that, the dislocated arm was as good as new.
Eugene's mouth fell open. When his good eye met those of the intruder's, he could see the mockery in them.Without hesitation, he fired the gun between those eyes. He heard the assailant yelp a foreign curse, clutching his face as blood splattered down it, when he should in fact not be saying anything and just be dead.
The vampire's mind was briefly distracted by the aroma of blood, but he shook it off when he realised, that if he found the blood fragrant, his opponent couldn't be a vampire, and yet…he had survived a shot at point blank. Stunned, he could only murmur, "What are you?"
"Hah," his foe spat out whilst removing his hand from his face. The mask had dropped down to reveal a face unmarred, a face that could be described only as devilishly handsome (though in no way comparable to his own trademark smoulder) or devilishly terrifying. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Incredulous, Eugene fired again, but this time, the assailant dodged. The masked fellow himself flung out a series of wooden darts, one of which struck his target in the shin.
Gritting his teeth together while tearing the projectile out, Eugene crushed the gun in his hand. He threw the useless item away as his own eyes darkened. He rolled his shoulders back as his muscles tensed up, his posture hunching forward while his fingers curled on themselves. The intellectual was stored away and the primitive took over. It took a monster to fight a monster, after all.
A feral shriek escaped his lips as Eugene launched himself towards his quarry, thoughts of mercy and fair-play locked in the back of his mind. His undefeated foe managed to stab him in the arm with another wooden weapon, but he just tore the offending object off with his teeth and spat it away. His fingers clawed forward, hooking themselves on a latch on his foe's armour. He could feel the silver burning his skin, but madness dulled the pain as he ripped it off the cloaked man, throwing it aside. His foe cursed in frustration, swinging his sword at him, but the vampire was far swifter, ducking the blow before twisting his arm back. The sword clattered on to the ground and without even a thought, the vampire sunk his fangs into the bare hand.
The assassin yelled as he felt his bones being crushed under iron jaws, scarlets waters of his flesh began to rain onto the floorboards like a dam set free. Eugene swallowed the hot blood and bit more deeply, ignoring the furious wriggling of his opponent. His teeth pressed through sinew, muscle, ligament until ….
"ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!
-the entire hand, in tact palm and five digits, was torn off its wrist the way one would tear a piece of tissue.
Screaming, the assassin sunk himself to his knees, clutching his shortened appendage, which had turning into a pulsing fountain of red. The vampire spat out the the dismembered chunk of meat and bones, sucked drain from all its liquid. A bloody, toothy grin spread across his face at the sight of this man's suffering.
Not waiting for a moment of pause, Eugene wrapped a hand around the intruder's neck, hauling him off the ground.
The assassin struggled and kicked, but quite sated from his meal and feeling charged with vicious energy, the vampire merely cackled at the antics. "You poor, cocky mortal," he mocked, shaking his head as he tightened his grip. His quarry made a gagging sound, which was like music to his ears. "Who do you think you are, that you can hope to defeat monsters like me?
The choking fellow gave no answer, only raising one of his only remaining hands. Eugene recognised too late that hand held a detonator.
The gloved thumb stabbed the trigger.
BBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!
When Eugene opened his eyes once again, he was lying flat on the ground. The entire study room around him was surrounded in flames, not that they could hurt him. In the corner of his good eye, he could see the dark figure stealing across to Rapunzel's desk, snatching up the laptop with his remaining hand. The assassin gazed briefly his way, before dashing toward the window, crashing through the glass and disappearing in the night.
Eugene staggered to his feet, snarling and biting. His feral nature told him to chase the attacker, to tear out his carotids and drain him dry for the insolence! But the human nature told him to stop, and think.
His eyes returned to their lighter chocolate shade as he watched the fire consuming everything around him. It struck him that while he might be immune to the flames, there were things in this house that were not.
With his leg injured, Eugene had to limp forward, but even a vampire's limp was still pretty fast. He scampered through the fiery corridor, heading first for the medical cupboard. It was overturned, but by some miracle, most of the drugs inside were largely in tact. He was only looking for one in a particular, however, and that was a small box of vials, of which the vials all contained a green liquid. Carrying the box carefully, he then headed down to the bedroom, ignoring how his lower pant leg had caught fire.
The bedroom was completely wrecked, with raging flames eating away the pillars, the bed and half the carpeting. The curtains had turned into sheets of fire, and he would have coughed if he needed to breathe. But he was far too focused on his task to remember old human habits.
He dashed – as much as he could – to the wardrobe, ripping off the door that was already charred black. The clothes inside were surprisingly untouched, but he didn't care about them, just digging them out and tossing them out on the floor. He dug all the way to the back till his fingers traced the familiar angles of another box. He cautiously yanked it out, not wanting to drop the vials, and his chest was filled with relief to see the words 'Eloise' scratched on the surface of the cardboard.
He placed the box of vials in the cardboard box, then wrapped the box in some of the remaining clothes. Cradling the bundle to his chest, he then noted dryly that most of his clothes were on fire. If he didn't want his treasure to set aflame, he had better make his departure hasty.
It was just threes seconds after he had walked out of the flaming front door, clothes on his back burning and the bundle in his arms not, when another explosion burst through the bungalow. He watched on as the rooftop collapsed in on itself, glass flying everywhere and smoke puffing like a steam engine. In the distance, it must have looked like a volcano.
Eugene spun around and walked away. If the flames were spotted later on and the cops informed, he couldn't be seen near the place. The how of his survival would be called into question, especially since the blood on his skin had started crusting up.
By the time he found a creek in the woods, his clothes were pretty much just shreds. Still, he doused off the remain sparks and washed himself from blood, then checked on the two goods that he had rescued. He reached for the phone in his pocket, only to remember that he had left it back in the house during his fight with the intruder. Eugene sighed, throwing on some of the clothes that he had used to wrap on the boxes.
With the state of his leg, it was gonna be a long trek to Burgess.
~~~0~~~
Blood Kimbap (by Bunny)
3 Julienned Carrots (You can never have too many)"
1 Yellow pickled Radish
1 Cup of Chopped Fresh Spinach
1 Cup of Solid Pork Blood Strips
2 Cups of Cooked Short-grain Rice
1 Tablespoons of Soy Sauce
4 Teaspoon of Sesame Oil
1.5 Teaspoons of Sugar
1.5 Teaspoons of Salt
1 Sesame Oil
10 Sheets of Roasted Seaweed sheets
Black Pepper to taste
1)Mix 0.5 teaspoons of sugar and 2 tablespoon of sesame oil. Pour over cooked rice. Mix evenly.
2)Blanch Spinach in hot water. Remove after one minute, squeeze out water and chop.
3)Stir-fry carrots in oil and remove from heat.
4)Marinate blood strips in soy sauce, black pepper, remaining sugar and remaining sesame oil for 10 minutes.
5)Cut the picked radish into thin long strips.
6) Stir-fry blood strips and remove from heat.
7) Lay a sheet of seaweed sheet on bamboo mat. Spread rice onto it, with only three fingers width not covered.
8)With wet hands, assemble blood pieces, carrot, pickled radish and spinach in the centre of the rice.
9)Use both hand to roll over the filling. Press tightly as you roll. Careful not to roll mat into kimbap.
10)Squeeze the roll in mat, to ensure it keeps shape. Remove from mat.
11) Repeat for as many kimbaps as desired.
12) Slice Serve.
~~~0~~~
The conference between Pitch and Manny spanned a full five days. By then, the other vampires had heard of spiel and had taken to wandering near the house where the two were, just not near enough to eavesdrop. It was clear that the dialogue was to be a confidential one that none were to be privy too. Jack had managed to suppress his curiosity for the first four days, but by the fifth, he couldn't take it anymore.
In the night, when most of the mortal monks were asleep and the other vampires were going about their own business, the boy climbed to the roof of the stone house in question. The walls had been built thick enough to resist sound leakage, but there was an open window the top floor. With a nimbleness that only a body as lithe as his own possessed, he slipped through the small hole, landing inside as softly as he could. Vampire ears were very keen, after all, and he had no plans of being caught.
The exterior of the building was made of stone, but the floors were made of wood, so all he needed to do really was to press his ear against the ground to be able to listen in on them.
"-honestly think this harebrained experiment is going to earn us favour from mankind, then you are a greater fool than I ever thought." Pitch's scorn was unmistakable.
"It's not to earn favour from mankind – it's a chance to make genuine peace with them, regardless of whether they know of our existence," Manny was arguing. "Amongst those who do know, it will be proof to them vampires mean humans no harm. There need not be antagonism between-"
"And therein lies my problem with your arguments." He could almost hear the vampire king shaking his head. "Why should we try to be what we're not?"
"Because mankind, which I point out to you, is part of our origin. They are our kinsman, our brothers. They deserve-"
"They deserve to be our nourishment, and nothing more. They are not our kin in any way, not in skill, not in intellect, not in judgment." He could hear Pitch's fangs grating against each other. "We might have the same origin, but the fact remains that we have transcended them. They are under us, and deserve to be treated us such. Do you think that those hunters that invaded the Necropolis and murdered hundreds of our kind harboured the notion of us being their kin?"
Manny was undaunted. "That's because none of us have tried extending the olive branch to them before. All we do is kill or enslave their people. With this experiment, we could turn the-"
"And how long would it take? Decades? Centuries?" Pitch barked a laugh. "And by then, these small pockets of vampire hunters would become more organised and better equipped. We should wipe them out NOW – and those that they hold dear." The sadistic joy in voice was sickeningly palatable. "Let fear strike them in their hearts, so that they never dare resist us once again."
"This is wrong."
"What is more wrong – defending a people who would have cast you out and slaughtered you, or subduing them before they can do so?"
"Destruction only breed more destruction," Manny protested. "You think that massacring humans would solve the problem – it will only lead to be stronger resistance."
"And you think that assimilating with them would solve anything?" His tone was derisive. "My old friend, you and I have seen empires rise and fall. You know the weakness of mankind – its tendency towards disorder, corruption and vice. We could fix it all, you know." His manner suddenly became soft, quiet, pleading. "We have the power, the prowess, the intellect and the means to bring it about. There is nothing that holds us back except the division that we have driven between ourselves. United, however, mankind would not stand a chance."
"And there lies my problem with your arguments." Jack could hear the mats being shifted as Manny got to his feet. "I want mankind to have a chance."
Knowing that the discussion was soon over and not wanting to be caught, the boy tiptoed back to the window and leap out, grabbing the gutter and swooping back up over the roof. He managed to hide just in time as Pitch emerged from the stone house, seething in rage.
"Your gifts are a waste, old friend," he spat at the small balding man. "Others with your abilities and status would have sought to make the world a better place. But you-" he sneered "-you prefer to hide behind your scrolls and studies, as if those could fix this wretched world."
"If you had spent a little more time doing such, then maybe you would be able to learn from the mistakes from history," Manny retorted, unfazed. "You would know that you will only cause death."
"Death is already happening," snarled Pitch, folding his black robes haughtily over his chest. "And it's because of fools like you and my daughter that such hunters had become so powerful."
By then, the exchange was heard by the sleeping residents of Lamadary. Window turned yellow in the night as lamps were lit. Heads were poked out from the doors and ears perked up to listen.
"Your daughter's folly was not in her lack of active violence," Manny intoned gravely. "It was in her lack of active reconciliation."
Pitch just sniffed scornful. His gaze rested briefly on the white-haired boy on the roof, before saying to the bald fellow, "We shall see, old friend. We shall see."
His body was then twisted into a sheet of black, from which a flock of bats appeared. The monks darted hastily out of the way as the griping, clawing creatures soared up in the air, into the wind, screeching and crying angrily in the night sky.
A few days later, scouts returned to the Lamadary reporting that a troop of soldiers had been spotted marching up to the mountain. They were well-clothed and well-fed, bearing wooden stakes in their hands.
"We have to leave," North told Manny. All the six vampires had gathered to discuss the matter, for it was clear what those soldiers were looking for. "If we're gone, they might spare the Lamadary."
The bald man however shook his head. "They won't. They detest us enough to wipe out any who might have helped us, even if there's no evidence of such."
The Lamadary had to be evacuated. The monks themselves had not many possessions, for they weren't permitted such, so it made packing fairly easy. The scrolls from their great library however had to be preserved, so they were split amongst the monks, in hope that they might be able to build a new library elsewhere.
A few days after all residents of the Lamadary had departed and were on their way down the mountain, they saw a great fire in the distance. Large billows of smoke floated above it, ominous and reeking destruction
"Bet you it was Pitch who told them," Bunny's voice had suddenly popped up from behind him.
Jack jumped, spinning towards the other vampire. "What?"
"Pitch Black." Bunny took a bite out of carrot that he had soaked and dried with blood. "Bet he told the hunters where to find us."
"But-" Jack was flabbergasted with such a notion "-why?"
"He wants vampires united. So if there's dissenssion, he'll remove it by whatever means possible. That, and-" the older vampire let out a low, dry chuckle "-he's a quite petty fellow. He hates it when he doesn't get his way."
~~~0~~~
The flashback portion with Manny (continuing from Chapter 9) is largely inspired by the Guardians of Childhood books, along with the Lamadary. The books seemed to suggest that the Lunar Lamadary is located in the Himalayas, possibly on top of Everest. Here, Himalayas is called 'Himmaleh', which was how its name was translated back in the Victorian Era.
Bunny's kind of like the book master, in a way. In the Guardians of Childhood books, they kind of suggest that he's kind of the smart, intelligent one who does research and whatnot, compared to North of the books (who's brash and impulsive) and Toothiana of the books (who just a unflappable badass).
So, Elsa's odd subplot with Pitch is over…or has it just begun?
I'd like to think I gave Rapunzel and Eugene such an interesting backstory that they probably deserve a story series of their own…that I probably won't write because I'm really lazy.
Guest Mailbox:
TQ: Ah, yes. I apologise that Elsa's perspective has induced thoughts of suicide in you. That had never been my intention. My bad. Hopefully they will improve.
Byee…….I need sleep…….