A/N: I wanted to make WY gender neutral in this fic to really highlight that vampires and humans are two entirely different species, down to the social structure!
"You–"
Of course, it is the man in purple that starts it. Wei Ying hadn't taken much notice of his clothes at first, but up close–much too close now–their full attention is on the intricate, handmade stitching of it. It is obvious that the garment is well-worn by the fraying of its sleeves, mended but still spinning spider's webs at the wrists. But the clean pleating of it, the delicate, near-anxious folds tell Wei Ying that it is just as well-loved. And purple , they decide, works perfectly for him. For a man of such pride, only the color of royalty would do. Wei Ying takes a moment to consider if he understands the implications of his attire. They remember the intensity of his demeanor and decide that yes, he must.
"Who– what– are you?" The man in purple is angry. In their reverie, Wei Ying had forgotten the danger snarling in their face. Not yet ready to face the enormity of this small interaction, they feign innocence. As if the monster hunters haven't found a monster. The monster, in the case of the man in purple, whose hatred for vampires runs as deep and hot as the blood in his veins.
"An innocent's all you need to know!" And since there is no saving their fate, Wei Ying seeks to derive as much joy at the end as they can.
"An innocent …Next to a corpse, there are no innocents ." Suddenly the man in purple is taller than ever. And much angrier.
"That means you too, don't it?" Wei Ying's widening grin matches Purple Man's dilating eyes. Being what they are, Wei Ying has encountered their fair share of violence in their time. And so, when there's no white left to hold off the violence in Purple Man's eyes, they take a tentative step back.
Too far. The jokes and the step, because one moment, Wei Ying's mapping out escape routes through shrubs and vines, and the next, they're just trying to catch their breath.
"And where are you off to, vampire?"
Purple Man's spider thread hands are around Wei Ying's neck now, not trying to stop their breathing–he's not stupid–but snap their neck–because he's angry or because he's smart has yet to be decided. Wei Ying closes their eyes now that their vision has begun to swim between trees, and angry eyes, and wartime. The distinct faces of people who no longer exist greet their leadened eyelids. And then, white.