Ahh! Two whole months! Look what Creative Writing has done to me! A whole month of writing nothing but poems... I'm sick to death of poetry. Just how many different types of poems are there, and why do we need to use them all?! Ah well....
Every part of him ached when Olrox awoke the next evening. Soon after sunset, the same skeleton that had helped him earlier checked his leg, stating that it would be fine to bear weight in another night and day. Sadly, that meant a whole night of staying in bed with his thoughts. Staring vacantly up into the black canopy of his bed, Olrox briefly entertained the idea of calling the skeleton back in to fetch him one of the few books that resided in his bookshelf. He couldn't be troubled to actually do it, however, so he just lie there, connecting the canopy's diamonds into shapes with imaginary lines and trying to keep his mind blank. His body protested to any real movement, and an ache, as though he'd been squeezed in a vice, wrapped around his head. To top it off, he was hungry as well. Olrox sighed.
Footsteps sounded, very softly, in the next room. Olrox half-thought that it was Torio for a moment, but that notion left fairly quickly: the stride was wrong. Moments later, the door was opened. Vlad. Groaning inwardly, Olrox watched him cross the room, their eyes locked.
"I was told you were feeling unwell," Vlad said with a weak smile. No answer. Olrox shifted his gaze to look right through his elder to the far wall. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, Vlad reached out to brush a few lank strands of hair out of Olrox's eyes. Olrox cringed on seeing the movement; he couldn't help it. Vlad checked himself in mid-motion, sighed, and laid his hand down at his side again. He stared down at the floor for a minute.
'I wouldn't be surprised if he's angry again...' Briefly, the idea seized Olrox to make some excuse to leave. 'The damn leg,' he reminded himself. He stared upward. Besides the fracture, his body was still too tired and too sore to sit up, to move away. So he stayed put, wondering why Vlad had come, wondering why he was just...just sitting there, like he'd forgotten his reason for being there in the first place. After some minutes, Olrox closed his eyes. 'Perhaps he'll think I've fallen asleep, and he'll leave.'
"It was for your own good." Vlad's voice was so unexpected that Olrox started a little. He didn't open his eyes, however. If anything, he only squeezed them shut tighter. He could feel Vlad's eyes on him, waiting for a response, receiving none. Accepting that he was going to be ignored, Vlad continued. "I don't enjoy hurting you, copil; that was never my intention," he paused momentarily, searching for words. "But you must understand that what I did was necessary. I'd be doing you more harm than good if I were to let you wander outside alone without consequence. Even if you never thank me for it, you'll realize eventually that I was only trying to help you. Olrox, are you listening?"
As Vlad spoke, Olrox had been growing steadily more and more annoyed. 'This is horseshit.' He turned his face away, the fingers of his left hand twisting into the blanket, struggling to keep his voice calm and quiet, and barely succeeding. "And how did you aim to help me by beating me?" He felt a hand on his arm.
Vlad's voice was low, serious. "We both know, Olrox, that you would not have listened had I simply told you not to leave these grounds. No, you are too stubborn..." His hands trailed downward, checking over mending ribs and bruises that were now almost impossible to make out. Gently, he massaged the broken leg; his fingers lightly pressing into Olrox's calf, dragging upward and trying to coax more blood flow into the cracked bone. Olrox hissed softly as the knotted muscle began to loosen, stinging. "I had to discourage you somehow," Vlad continued, "for now, the outside world is just too dangerous for you."
Olrox raised his eyelids slightly, but kept them turned to the far wall. "How?"
Sighing, Vlad replied, "It's true that you are stronger now than a human could ever hope to be, but you are not invulnerable. There are humans, Olrox, who go out of their way to destroy us, and they are not easily intimidated."
"...Slayers..." Olrox whispered to himself. He knew of them from stories told when he was a child. 'Strange to think they're not the heroes anymore.'
"Yes," said Vlad. "That is what they call themselves. And they are deadly, copil. They know our weaknesses, they know what to expect from us, and they have devised ways of fighting us. If any of them had caught you, they would have killed you, Olrox. And they'd have spared you no humiliation, no cruelty. They hate us as they hate wolves, or disease, or death-anything that could hold dominion over a human. To them, you are not even alive to be killed. You are not old enough to contend with them yet."
A heavy silence descended on the room as Olrox contemplated this.
"Now do you see why I acted as I did?" Vlad kept on. "You'd have suffered far worse at the hands of humans. ...You are still so young; I don't want to lose you in such a manner, to barbarians."
"I see," Olrox whispered grudgingly.
Vlad's tone softened even more, seemingly hurt. "Do you know how worried I was, copil?"
His captive audience was trying very hard to keep a frosty countenance. "Quite worried, clearly, domnule." Olrox remained steadfast in studying the wall, listening to Vlad stand and feeling the elder's eyes on him.
"When you're able to walk," Vlad's voice reverted to a crisp, businesslike tone, "one of your servants will escort you to the cells. You'll find a number of humans staying there, and I expect to find at least two less of them after you've left. You're weak and need the nourishment."
Olrox heaved a weary sigh. "Da, domnule." Nonchalantly glancing toward Vlad, Olrox noticed him looking at the tapestry that had been such an odd puzzle. The older vampire's face was blank, his eyes taking on a wistful glaze.
Seeing the opportunity, Olrox spoke the question that had been nagging at him for what felt like ages. "Who are they?" Vlad snapped out of his reverie and turned, caught off-guard. Olrox looked pointedly at the tapestry by way of clarification.
After a pause, Vlad answered. "You have not hazarded a guess?"
"I've guessed; I seek confirmation," Olrox replied impatiently. 'Why all this hesitation?' As answer, Vlad passed his eyes quickly over the tapestry once more, and, without warning, turned on his heel and made for the door. Confused, Olrox spoke again. "Is he why I'm here?"
The simple question stopped Vlad in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder at the piercing eyes that steadily met his own. "What?"
"Is he why I'm here?" Olrox repeated, softer. He nearly held his breath, waiting for some answer, some glimmer of meaning, of reason for the hell he'd become trapped in.
Vlad stared at his child for a long moment. Then, he silently walked out the door, closing it behind him with a barely audible click, leaving a crestfallen Olrox to wonder at his brisk departure.
'I suppose that's an answer, then...' Disappointed, Olrox studied the faded tapestry, wondering what it was about that mass of old thread that was so... 'Frustrating.' He didn't have much time to mull over it, however, as Torio appeared not twenty minutes after Vlad's leaving. A large, black bird perched comfortably on top of the tengu's head; he crossed the room, sat down, and smiled amusedly at the vampire's expression. Man and bird made a striking pair, and Olrox smiled despite his mood.
"What?" Torio asked, oblivious of his passenger, apparently. He tilted his head to one side slightly, the bird leaning the opposite direction to keep its balance.
Olrox nodded toward the bird. "That's quite an interesting hat you've got on. Although, I'm not sure I'd understand eastern fashion; it doesn't look practical at all."
The bird cawed and ruffled its feathers, drawing Torio's eyes upward. "Oh. Yes, her." He shrugged. "She insisted on coming along. The birds think I'm staying out too late."
Olrox's eyebrows seemed to rise incredulously of their own accord. "You can't be serious." As though taking unction at his remark, the bird cawed loudly and flew to the mantelpiece, where she watched the men carefully. "...Or perhaps not."
Torio waved the apology aside. "Never mind about her; she's overly sensitive." He settled back into a chair. "And how are you feeling today. By which I mean tonight."
Olrox grimaced noncommittally. "I'm to wait until tomorrow night before trying weight on the leg. Other than that, just a little sore." With a small grunt of effort, he eased himself into a sitting position. Reaching back, he tried absently to work some of the dried blood out of his matted hair. "I don't know if I can last that long in this sorry condition." As an afterthought he heaved a melodramatic sigh. 'Tatiana would have liked that one.'
Torio laughed. "You're incredible. I'd never be able to keep my sense of humor if I was," he fumbled, for just a moment, and then went on, "stuck in bed all day..." He threw a glance at the bird. "Anyway, I'd made tea, and I was going to bring you some, but...on second thought, you wouldn't have had much use for it." He grinned sheepishly.
Olrox smiled sadly and shook his head. "No, I don't suppose I would have, but it's the thought that counts."
"Yes." A silence, more comfortable than the last few, prevailed for some minutes. Then, for want of anything else to say, Torio asked, "What does the country look like where you're from? Is it as mountainous as here?"
"No," Olrox answered glad of something, anything, to talk about. "It's rolling grassland, mostly, with the odd river valley. And copses, lots of copses."
"Copses?"
"Small woods."
"Ah," Torio said, "Well, that's another new word..." They kept themselves busy for the next hour or so teaching, or rather, attempting to teach each other a smattering of words of Romanian or Japanese. Neither of them were very competent teachers, but it was all the more fun for one to heckle the other as he tried to get his tongue around an unfamiliar sound, only to butcher it completely. By the time Torio left to return home, he'd learned how to politely ask any Romanian for directions, and Olrox could confidently walk up to the average Japanese citizen and announce his desire to have that person's child (Torio had conveniently made a few mistakes in the translation of that particular phrase...)
'If I can make it all the way to the blasted cells...' The armed skeleton guiding him slowed down a bit, casting what must have been an apprehensive glance over its shoulder. Olrox dragged himself down flights of damp steps, the moldy scent pervading the air on this level of the castle doing nothing to improve his spirits. His limbs were stiff and seemed disgustingly weak; the gnawing pain in his chest also was fed by his movements. 'Best to be quick and have done with it...' He'd decided to take the first two...humans he came to, and the less thought put into the whole mess, the better.
It had been disastrous. It being the middle of the night, Olrox had assumed that everyone would be sleeping, and he could be in and out of the cells without anyone knowing that he'd been there, including his victims. He hadn't counted on a room full of humans who, wakened by the footsteps of the skeleton, recognized in a moment what Olrox was and knew exactly what he meant to do. Olrox snatched up the nearest person to him, a middle-aged woman, who immediately began screaming and beating him with her fists. A man who must have been her husband threw himself at Olrox, trying to pry his wife away, yelling and cursing. In the end, Olrox killed both of them, and two more besides. As he was leaving, he cast a last look into the cell over his shoulder; wherever his gaze fell the humans shied away as though burned. Not much else could he remember, and he was still a bit muzzy from his large meal. Now he sat in the study adjacent to his bedroom, staring into the fire. There was a small, neat stack of papers on the writing desk regarding the reorganization of a few small sections of the castle that needed going through, but Olrox wasn't the least bit concerned about them at the moment.
'Four...' he thought to himself. 'That makes seven in all. And...it didn't even bother me as much as the last time, or the time before that...' In ways he hadn't considered, this new lack of concern was more miserable than the guilt he'd felt before. He didn't want to not care that he was taking life.
Experimentally, Olrox dragged one fang across the underside of his wrist, so deeply that the tooth scraped against bone. He then held the wrist over the floor and watched as, in the space of half a minute, the stream of blood became a drizzle, then a few drops, and then nothing at all as the cut sealed itself, leaving a faint itch where the skin had joined.
"That's it, then," he murmured. 'This is the way I'll live.' He wandered over the desk and sat down heavily. Uncorking an inkwell and picking up a quill, he sighed and started skimming over the first sheet of paperwork. 'Nobody's fault but my own.'
He didn't try to leave again.
March 15, 1788...
Torio was occupied with a rather nasty infestation of venus weeds in his rookery, so Olrox had had to entertain himself. There was a disturbing lack of interesting conversation in his area of the castle, so after his work was finished and he'd paid a visit to the cells, Olrox had taken to wandering through hallways and rooms to see where he ended up, a pastime which, arguably, kept him busy. And keeping busy, Olrox had found, was an excellent way of keeping certain thoughts and musings at bay. Last week, he had stumbled upon a room of people dancing; they hadn't taken any notice of him, after watching them for a while, he'd moved on. Two days ago he'd found a piano.
Shutting the lid over the keys, Olrox stood and headed off again in another direction. The trouble with playing that piano was that it allowed his mind to wander if he sat there too long. He walked down an empty corridor. Aside from the spiders, no one seemed to be using these rooms.
A few idle thoughts bubbled to the top of Olrox's consciousness as he went. For one thing, there was Vlad's, and, it seemed, half the castle's behavior over the past few weeks. Though he hadn't spoken with his elder since...months ago, Olrox had caught glimpses of the vampire at times in the main hallways, and there was always someone chattering in 'Master's' ear. That someone was usually Shaft. Olrox growled under his breath. For some reason, that man rubbed him entirely the wrong way. 'Sniveling little bastard...' Something was going on, and no one had bothered to tell Olrox anything about it. He'd have to ask Torio. 'After the weeds are taken care of. God knows the man must be harried enough for now.' Still, it was irritating being left in the dark. SOMETHING was happening, the tension and activity throughout the castle (except the deserted section Olrox was now exploring) was distressingly thick...
"Excuse me, sir."
Olrox gasped, nearly leaping out of his skin. Turning around, he saw a youth standing in a doorway, looking embarrassed and trying not to show it.
"Yes?" Olrox said, relaxing his muscles, or trying to. "Can I help you?" he added; he'd grown more accustomed to giving straight orders than offering service.
"I...I was on my way to the chapel, but I'm afraid I've gotten rather lost..." the boy trailed off. If he knew what sort of thing he was speaking to, he didn't seem ruffled by it. As a matter of fact, the little human seemed relatively at home; that was, to say the least, odd.
Olrox smiled carefully, taking care not to show his canines too much. "Ah. Yes, it's easy to get turned around in here. I've been to the chapel before, I'll take you there if you like."
The boy shook his head. "Oh, no, I couldn't impose."
"I have nothing better to do at the moment." Olrox changed direction and motioned the youth to follow. 'Could have worded that a bit better...' The boy was unnervingly quiet; Olrox decided to start a conversation. "So, you seem very comfortable here, that's unusual."
"Yes." The boy said softly.
Olrox looked down at his temporary companion in consternation. 'Well, it's a start.' He tried again. "Are you a new warlock?"That got a reaction. Olrox heard a sharp intake of breath beside him.
"No! I mean, no, domnule. No witchcraft." The boy fingered an old rosary that was wrapped around his wrist. Olrox hadn't noticed it.
"Catholic." Olrox said blandly.
The boy allowed himself a small smile. "Yes. You?" The proverbial common ground was found.
"Orthodox," Olrox stated, disappointing the youth a little. "At least, I used to be." They turned into another hallway and descended a flight of stairs.
The boy sounded puzzled. "Used to be? I didn't think it was something you could stop being." He was answered by a sardonic chuckle.
"If you only knew..." Olrox brightened. "Ah, here we are. You weren't far off." Olrox sat a respectful distance away and gawked at the windows and decoration about the chapel while the youth made a few requisite prayers. As though in unspoken agreement, he then sat down a foot or two from Olrox, waiting for his guide to say something.
Olrox took the cue. "You know something, I never introduced myself. How rude of me...not that that's unusual, mind. You may call me Olrox." He waited patiently while the boy mustered a reply.
"I'm Jan," the human said simply. After a pause, he added, "You're a vampire, aren't you?" The tone wasn't so much fearful as it was vaguely accusing.
"Yes, I am," Olrox said, taking his turn to be blunt. "You don't seem worried." Without warning, Olrox found Jan's rosary a few inches in front of his face rather quickly. For lack of any more appropriate retort, he said, "Yes, it's very pretty. They're rose quartz beads?"
Jan looked calmly at the vampire who was staring down a crucifix. "You're not revolted by it?" The question twisted into a statement.
"I'm sitting in a chapel, I listened to you pray... Try looking at it this way, Jan," Olrox offered, "If I was to hold a spider in front of your face, what would you do?"
The metaphor wasn't lost on the boy. "Spiders don't bother me."
Olrox nodded, gently lowering the boy's arm with one hand. Jan started.
"Don't, don't touch me, please."
A bit taken aback, Olrox complied, leaning back against the pew. "All right. Anyway, I could do the same thing to another human, and he'd run screaming from the room, as it were."
Jan nodded in understanding. "How long have you been like this?"
Olrox sighed. "I'm not sure. It's a little difficult to gauge the time. Around half a year, I expect."
"And," Jan went on timidly, "And how many have you..."
Olrox couldn't help but cut him off at that point, briskly. "Now there's a question for a human to ask! Why, are you afraid I'm going to pounce on you?"
Jan muttered an apology. "I didn't mean to offend, domnule."
"I don't starve. More than that, you needn't know." Olrox attempted to soften his voice. "I'd rather not know, myself." It was clearly time to change the subject. "Pardon my curiosity, but just how did you end up here?"
A human ear would have strained to hear Jan's reply. "I was brought here."
"Oh?" Olrox regretted having asked. "You escaped, then?"
Jan shook his head. "No. I...I was bitten a few times. I was let go. I don't know how long ago. I haven't been able to find my way out... I don't even really try to get out anymore."
As Olrox and the human spoke, Vlad was just setting out from the castle, on his way to a distant town...
Blaaaarrrrgggghhhh... This whole thing took two months to write; that's why it's so choppy. Sigh Nothing for it. And it's still too short, but I got the storyline moving the way I want it. Good for me... Now... What about that Jan guy, huh? Wacky! I must have tried a dozen ways of introducing that feller, and what do you know, BAM, he just shows up in a random hallway, scaring the piss out of Olrox in the process. Jan's a goofball, as you will see... I didn't have to lapse as much time as I thought I would, so that's good... And... I don't think I have anything else to add. Listen to Dance of Pales. Pork rinds. I need sleep...
Every part of him ached when Olrox awoke the next evening. Soon after sunset, the same skeleton that had helped him earlier checked his leg, stating that it would be fine to bear weight in another night and day. Sadly, that meant a whole night of staying in bed with his thoughts. Staring vacantly up into the black canopy of his bed, Olrox briefly entertained the idea of calling the skeleton back in to fetch him one of the few books that resided in his bookshelf. He couldn't be troubled to actually do it, however, so he just lie there, connecting the canopy's diamonds into shapes with imaginary lines and trying to keep his mind blank. His body protested to any real movement, and an ache, as though he'd been squeezed in a vice, wrapped around his head. To top it off, he was hungry as well. Olrox sighed.
Footsteps sounded, very softly, in the next room. Olrox half-thought that it was Torio for a moment, but that notion left fairly quickly: the stride was wrong. Moments later, the door was opened. Vlad. Groaning inwardly, Olrox watched him cross the room, their eyes locked.
"I was told you were feeling unwell," Vlad said with a weak smile. No answer. Olrox shifted his gaze to look right through his elder to the far wall. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, Vlad reached out to brush a few lank strands of hair out of Olrox's eyes. Olrox cringed on seeing the movement; he couldn't help it. Vlad checked himself in mid-motion, sighed, and laid his hand down at his side again. He stared down at the floor for a minute.
'I wouldn't be surprised if he's angry again...' Briefly, the idea seized Olrox to make some excuse to leave. 'The damn leg,' he reminded himself. He stared upward. Besides the fracture, his body was still too tired and too sore to sit up, to move away. So he stayed put, wondering why Vlad had come, wondering why he was just...just sitting there, like he'd forgotten his reason for being there in the first place. After some minutes, Olrox closed his eyes. 'Perhaps he'll think I've fallen asleep, and he'll leave.'
"It was for your own good." Vlad's voice was so unexpected that Olrox started a little. He didn't open his eyes, however. If anything, he only squeezed them shut tighter. He could feel Vlad's eyes on him, waiting for a response, receiving none. Accepting that he was going to be ignored, Vlad continued. "I don't enjoy hurting you, copil; that was never my intention," he paused momentarily, searching for words. "But you must understand that what I did was necessary. I'd be doing you more harm than good if I were to let you wander outside alone without consequence. Even if you never thank me for it, you'll realize eventually that I was only trying to help you. Olrox, are you listening?"
As Vlad spoke, Olrox had been growing steadily more and more annoyed. 'This is horseshit.' He turned his face away, the fingers of his left hand twisting into the blanket, struggling to keep his voice calm and quiet, and barely succeeding. "And how did you aim to help me by beating me?" He felt a hand on his arm.
Vlad's voice was low, serious. "We both know, Olrox, that you would not have listened had I simply told you not to leave these grounds. No, you are too stubborn..." His hands trailed downward, checking over mending ribs and bruises that were now almost impossible to make out. Gently, he massaged the broken leg; his fingers lightly pressing into Olrox's calf, dragging upward and trying to coax more blood flow into the cracked bone. Olrox hissed softly as the knotted muscle began to loosen, stinging. "I had to discourage you somehow," Vlad continued, "for now, the outside world is just too dangerous for you."
Olrox raised his eyelids slightly, but kept them turned to the far wall. "How?"
Sighing, Vlad replied, "It's true that you are stronger now than a human could ever hope to be, but you are not invulnerable. There are humans, Olrox, who go out of their way to destroy us, and they are not easily intimidated."
"...Slayers..." Olrox whispered to himself. He knew of them from stories told when he was a child. 'Strange to think they're not the heroes anymore.'
"Yes," said Vlad. "That is what they call themselves. And they are deadly, copil. They know our weaknesses, they know what to expect from us, and they have devised ways of fighting us. If any of them had caught you, they would have killed you, Olrox. And they'd have spared you no humiliation, no cruelty. They hate us as they hate wolves, or disease, or death-anything that could hold dominion over a human. To them, you are not even alive to be killed. You are not old enough to contend with them yet."
A heavy silence descended on the room as Olrox contemplated this.
"Now do you see why I acted as I did?" Vlad kept on. "You'd have suffered far worse at the hands of humans. ...You are still so young; I don't want to lose you in such a manner, to barbarians."
"I see," Olrox whispered grudgingly.
Vlad's tone softened even more, seemingly hurt. "Do you know how worried I was, copil?"
His captive audience was trying very hard to keep a frosty countenance. "Quite worried, clearly, domnule." Olrox remained steadfast in studying the wall, listening to Vlad stand and feeling the elder's eyes on him.
"When you're able to walk," Vlad's voice reverted to a crisp, businesslike tone, "one of your servants will escort you to the cells. You'll find a number of humans staying there, and I expect to find at least two less of them after you've left. You're weak and need the nourishment."
Olrox heaved a weary sigh. "Da, domnule." Nonchalantly glancing toward Vlad, Olrox noticed him looking at the tapestry that had been such an odd puzzle. The older vampire's face was blank, his eyes taking on a wistful glaze.
Seeing the opportunity, Olrox spoke the question that had been nagging at him for what felt like ages. "Who are they?" Vlad snapped out of his reverie and turned, caught off-guard. Olrox looked pointedly at the tapestry by way of clarification.
After a pause, Vlad answered. "You have not hazarded a guess?"
"I've guessed; I seek confirmation," Olrox replied impatiently. 'Why all this hesitation?' As answer, Vlad passed his eyes quickly over the tapestry once more, and, without warning, turned on his heel and made for the door. Confused, Olrox spoke again. "Is he why I'm here?"
The simple question stopped Vlad in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder at the piercing eyes that steadily met his own. "What?"
"Is he why I'm here?" Olrox repeated, softer. He nearly held his breath, waiting for some answer, some glimmer of meaning, of reason for the hell he'd become trapped in.
Vlad stared at his child for a long moment. Then, he silently walked out the door, closing it behind him with a barely audible click, leaving a crestfallen Olrox to wonder at his brisk departure.
'I suppose that's an answer, then...' Disappointed, Olrox studied the faded tapestry, wondering what it was about that mass of old thread that was so... 'Frustrating.' He didn't have much time to mull over it, however, as Torio appeared not twenty minutes after Vlad's leaving. A large, black bird perched comfortably on top of the tengu's head; he crossed the room, sat down, and smiled amusedly at the vampire's expression. Man and bird made a striking pair, and Olrox smiled despite his mood.
"What?" Torio asked, oblivious of his passenger, apparently. He tilted his head to one side slightly, the bird leaning the opposite direction to keep its balance.
Olrox nodded toward the bird. "That's quite an interesting hat you've got on. Although, I'm not sure I'd understand eastern fashion; it doesn't look practical at all."
The bird cawed and ruffled its feathers, drawing Torio's eyes upward. "Oh. Yes, her." He shrugged. "She insisted on coming along. The birds think I'm staying out too late."
Olrox's eyebrows seemed to rise incredulously of their own accord. "You can't be serious." As though taking unction at his remark, the bird cawed loudly and flew to the mantelpiece, where she watched the men carefully. "...Or perhaps not."
Torio waved the apology aside. "Never mind about her; she's overly sensitive." He settled back into a chair. "And how are you feeling today. By which I mean tonight."
Olrox grimaced noncommittally. "I'm to wait until tomorrow night before trying weight on the leg. Other than that, just a little sore." With a small grunt of effort, he eased himself into a sitting position. Reaching back, he tried absently to work some of the dried blood out of his matted hair. "I don't know if I can last that long in this sorry condition." As an afterthought he heaved a melodramatic sigh. 'Tatiana would have liked that one.'
Torio laughed. "You're incredible. I'd never be able to keep my sense of humor if I was," he fumbled, for just a moment, and then went on, "stuck in bed all day..." He threw a glance at the bird. "Anyway, I'd made tea, and I was going to bring you some, but...on second thought, you wouldn't have had much use for it." He grinned sheepishly.
Olrox smiled sadly and shook his head. "No, I don't suppose I would have, but it's the thought that counts."
"Yes." A silence, more comfortable than the last few, prevailed for some minutes. Then, for want of anything else to say, Torio asked, "What does the country look like where you're from? Is it as mountainous as here?"
"No," Olrox answered glad of something, anything, to talk about. "It's rolling grassland, mostly, with the odd river valley. And copses, lots of copses."
"Copses?"
"Small woods."
"Ah," Torio said, "Well, that's another new word..." They kept themselves busy for the next hour or so teaching, or rather, attempting to teach each other a smattering of words of Romanian or Japanese. Neither of them were very competent teachers, but it was all the more fun for one to heckle the other as he tried to get his tongue around an unfamiliar sound, only to butcher it completely. By the time Torio left to return home, he'd learned how to politely ask any Romanian for directions, and Olrox could confidently walk up to the average Japanese citizen and announce his desire to have that person's child (Torio had conveniently made a few mistakes in the translation of that particular phrase...)
'If I can make it all the way to the blasted cells...' The armed skeleton guiding him slowed down a bit, casting what must have been an apprehensive glance over its shoulder. Olrox dragged himself down flights of damp steps, the moldy scent pervading the air on this level of the castle doing nothing to improve his spirits. His limbs were stiff and seemed disgustingly weak; the gnawing pain in his chest also was fed by his movements. 'Best to be quick and have done with it...' He'd decided to take the first two...humans he came to, and the less thought put into the whole mess, the better.
It had been disastrous. It being the middle of the night, Olrox had assumed that everyone would be sleeping, and he could be in and out of the cells without anyone knowing that he'd been there, including his victims. He hadn't counted on a room full of humans who, wakened by the footsteps of the skeleton, recognized in a moment what Olrox was and knew exactly what he meant to do. Olrox snatched up the nearest person to him, a middle-aged woman, who immediately began screaming and beating him with her fists. A man who must have been her husband threw himself at Olrox, trying to pry his wife away, yelling and cursing. In the end, Olrox killed both of them, and two more besides. As he was leaving, he cast a last look into the cell over his shoulder; wherever his gaze fell the humans shied away as though burned. Not much else could he remember, and he was still a bit muzzy from his large meal. Now he sat in the study adjacent to his bedroom, staring into the fire. There was a small, neat stack of papers on the writing desk regarding the reorganization of a few small sections of the castle that needed going through, but Olrox wasn't the least bit concerned about them at the moment.
'Four...' he thought to himself. 'That makes seven in all. And...it didn't even bother me as much as the last time, or the time before that...' In ways he hadn't considered, this new lack of concern was more miserable than the guilt he'd felt before. He didn't want to not care that he was taking life.
Experimentally, Olrox dragged one fang across the underside of his wrist, so deeply that the tooth scraped against bone. He then held the wrist over the floor and watched as, in the space of half a minute, the stream of blood became a drizzle, then a few drops, and then nothing at all as the cut sealed itself, leaving a faint itch where the skin had joined.
"That's it, then," he murmured. 'This is the way I'll live.' He wandered over the desk and sat down heavily. Uncorking an inkwell and picking up a quill, he sighed and started skimming over the first sheet of paperwork. 'Nobody's fault but my own.'
He didn't try to leave again.
March 15, 1788...
Torio was occupied with a rather nasty infestation of venus weeds in his rookery, so Olrox had had to entertain himself. There was a disturbing lack of interesting conversation in his area of the castle, so after his work was finished and he'd paid a visit to the cells, Olrox had taken to wandering through hallways and rooms to see where he ended up, a pastime which, arguably, kept him busy. And keeping busy, Olrox had found, was an excellent way of keeping certain thoughts and musings at bay. Last week, he had stumbled upon a room of people dancing; they hadn't taken any notice of him, after watching them for a while, he'd moved on. Two days ago he'd found a piano.
Shutting the lid over the keys, Olrox stood and headed off again in another direction. The trouble with playing that piano was that it allowed his mind to wander if he sat there too long. He walked down an empty corridor. Aside from the spiders, no one seemed to be using these rooms.
A few idle thoughts bubbled to the top of Olrox's consciousness as he went. For one thing, there was Vlad's, and, it seemed, half the castle's behavior over the past few weeks. Though he hadn't spoken with his elder since...months ago, Olrox had caught glimpses of the vampire at times in the main hallways, and there was always someone chattering in 'Master's' ear. That someone was usually Shaft. Olrox growled under his breath. For some reason, that man rubbed him entirely the wrong way. 'Sniveling little bastard...' Something was going on, and no one had bothered to tell Olrox anything about it. He'd have to ask Torio. 'After the weeds are taken care of. God knows the man must be harried enough for now.' Still, it was irritating being left in the dark. SOMETHING was happening, the tension and activity throughout the castle (except the deserted section Olrox was now exploring) was distressingly thick...
"Excuse me, sir."
Olrox gasped, nearly leaping out of his skin. Turning around, he saw a youth standing in a doorway, looking embarrassed and trying not to show it.
"Yes?" Olrox said, relaxing his muscles, or trying to. "Can I help you?" he added; he'd grown more accustomed to giving straight orders than offering service.
"I...I was on my way to the chapel, but I'm afraid I've gotten rather lost..." the boy trailed off. If he knew what sort of thing he was speaking to, he didn't seem ruffled by it. As a matter of fact, the little human seemed relatively at home; that was, to say the least, odd.
Olrox smiled carefully, taking care not to show his canines too much. "Ah. Yes, it's easy to get turned around in here. I've been to the chapel before, I'll take you there if you like."
The boy shook his head. "Oh, no, I couldn't impose."
"I have nothing better to do at the moment." Olrox changed direction and motioned the youth to follow. 'Could have worded that a bit better...' The boy was unnervingly quiet; Olrox decided to start a conversation. "So, you seem very comfortable here, that's unusual."
"Yes." The boy said softly.
Olrox looked down at his temporary companion in consternation. 'Well, it's a start.' He tried again. "Are you a new warlock?"That got a reaction. Olrox heard a sharp intake of breath beside him.
"No! I mean, no, domnule. No witchcraft." The boy fingered an old rosary that was wrapped around his wrist. Olrox hadn't noticed it.
"Catholic." Olrox said blandly.
The boy allowed himself a small smile. "Yes. You?" The proverbial common ground was found.
"Orthodox," Olrox stated, disappointing the youth a little. "At least, I used to be." They turned into another hallway and descended a flight of stairs.
The boy sounded puzzled. "Used to be? I didn't think it was something you could stop being." He was answered by a sardonic chuckle.
"If you only knew..." Olrox brightened. "Ah, here we are. You weren't far off." Olrox sat a respectful distance away and gawked at the windows and decoration about the chapel while the youth made a few requisite prayers. As though in unspoken agreement, he then sat down a foot or two from Olrox, waiting for his guide to say something.
Olrox took the cue. "You know something, I never introduced myself. How rude of me...not that that's unusual, mind. You may call me Olrox." He waited patiently while the boy mustered a reply.
"I'm Jan," the human said simply. After a pause, he added, "You're a vampire, aren't you?" The tone wasn't so much fearful as it was vaguely accusing.
"Yes, I am," Olrox said, taking his turn to be blunt. "You don't seem worried." Without warning, Olrox found Jan's rosary a few inches in front of his face rather quickly. For lack of any more appropriate retort, he said, "Yes, it's very pretty. They're rose quartz beads?"
Jan looked calmly at the vampire who was staring down a crucifix. "You're not revolted by it?" The question twisted into a statement.
"I'm sitting in a chapel, I listened to you pray... Try looking at it this way, Jan," Olrox offered, "If I was to hold a spider in front of your face, what would you do?"
The metaphor wasn't lost on the boy. "Spiders don't bother me."
Olrox nodded, gently lowering the boy's arm with one hand. Jan started.
"Don't, don't touch me, please."
A bit taken aback, Olrox complied, leaning back against the pew. "All right. Anyway, I could do the same thing to another human, and he'd run screaming from the room, as it were."
Jan nodded in understanding. "How long have you been like this?"
Olrox sighed. "I'm not sure. It's a little difficult to gauge the time. Around half a year, I expect."
"And," Jan went on timidly, "And how many have you..."
Olrox couldn't help but cut him off at that point, briskly. "Now there's a question for a human to ask! Why, are you afraid I'm going to pounce on you?"
Jan muttered an apology. "I didn't mean to offend, domnule."
"I don't starve. More than that, you needn't know." Olrox attempted to soften his voice. "I'd rather not know, myself." It was clearly time to change the subject. "Pardon my curiosity, but just how did you end up here?"
A human ear would have strained to hear Jan's reply. "I was brought here."
"Oh?" Olrox regretted having asked. "You escaped, then?"
Jan shook his head. "No. I...I was bitten a few times. I was let go. I don't know how long ago. I haven't been able to find my way out... I don't even really try to get out anymore."
As Olrox and the human spoke, Vlad was just setting out from the castle, on his way to a distant town...
Blaaaarrrrgggghhhh... This whole thing took two months to write; that's why it's so choppy. Sigh Nothing for it. And it's still too short, but I got the storyline moving the way I want it. Good for me... Now... What about that Jan guy, huh? Wacky! I must have tried a dozen ways of introducing that feller, and what do you know, BAM, he just shows up in a random hallway, scaring the piss out of Olrox in the process. Jan's a goofball, as you will see... I didn't have to lapse as much time as I thought I would, so that's good... And... I don't think I have anything else to add. Listen to Dance of Pales. Pork rinds. I need sleep...