Remind Me of the Heart(LittleRabbitXPotassiumboron)

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While Chaol might have been oblivious to how close the two were sitting, Elora became very much aware. The gentle pressure of his arm against her own, the inhuman feeling of coldness that came from his head being so close to her own. The gentle breathing he exhaled as they sat there, reading the passage on her phone. It took everything in Elora to not glance in his direction, to not turn her head or scoot away. In some weird sense, it seemed the man was at peace reading about himself in such a manner. As if he was proud to be called a monster, a murderer…it spoke of his character then. His mind sent.

It had Elora wondering if she was as safe as she foolishly assumed.

Though, she could feel the energy shift the further the read and got into the life of his beloved wife. Could feel the anger radiating off of him at the assumption that she was forced into marriage with a monster. Having no free will or choice in the matter. That anger was only more evident as he plucked the phone from her hand—the woman worried that he was about to smash it in his grip. "Oh, be careful work that—it's pretty fragile if you squeeze it too hard."

Turning her head, and body to look at him now—Elora watched with concern for her phone as his face began to shift. Disbelief hurt, and rage seemed to consume the man. If she wanted to stop the reign of terror she could see unfolding behind his eyes she needed to act quickly—thankfully she had just the solution.

And lucky for her, Chaol wasn't too far gone from her reach. Was not yet too consumed by his grief to not be able to hear her words.

As they entered the room and his eyes found the prized portrait he had longed for, had been desperately wanting to see—those harsh, ugly feelings quickly faded. Left standing was a man, a former shell of himself stepping into the light. Speaking freely of the grief they had been consuming him. Speaking lovingly of the wife that had been left behind. Suddenly the air in the home seemed easier to breathe in, not as suffocating. Not as dark as it had been hours ago.

Elora stood in silence by the door, hearing his whispers of love. The truth that lies behind lies on the internet of his care for the princess. Trailing her eyes from Chaols back and to the picture—taking in the look of pure joy on their faces. Elora couldn't help…but agree that the princess was there on her own free will. That she loved this man as deeply as he loved her. The wrinkle in her nose, the light in her eyes…it all spoke of the love the two had once shared—even if he was and still is the monster he claims to be.

"I believe you." Elora murmured, her voice barely a whisper as if she did not want to steal this moment from Chaol.

Then, that moment came as gone. The man returning to the stoic beast she knew. This time demanding she hangs his portrait back up in his office where it rightly belonged.

Wait…

Her Office!

At first, she began to protest, but then a look of offense fall on her face as he claimed the picture was carelessly tossed aside.

"Excuse you!" Elora started, a slender finger pointing at his beloved portrait now. "It was most definitely not just tossed aside. I even ordered it a new picture frame and everything! It's just not here yet." Huffing the woman moved to cross her arms, her annoyance clearly written on that slender face of hers.
After a few passing beats, she uncrossed her arms, taking a moment to composure herself.

Compromise.

Half way happy.

If allowing the picture back in their office would make him happy. It was something she was willing to do. Besides, she couldn't argue that it wouldn't look beautiful in there with the other artworks—she would just have to move the other painting first—find a new home for it.

"I will do it tomorrow morning. It's getting late." Elora explained. "I might have a spare shirt and pants you can borrow if you want to take a bath. As…." A pause as Elora glanced the man up and down, a tight smile forming on her face at what he wore. "As nice as that outfit is. I'm sure something new and clean will feel much better. I can show you how to run the shower too if you'd like to clean up after being…stuck for so long."
 
The offer of a change of clothes immediately caused Chaol's nose to crinkle. From what he had seen of the attire of the modern man (however limited that had been when all he had for evidence were the male members of Elora's family seen in the pictures shown to him), it wasn't much of an understatement to say that Chaol outright despised the prospect of dressing in a similar manner. How society had progressed past his present clothes being acceptable choices for a casual day boggled his mind - how could people have moved past the smart waistcoats? The linen, frilled undershirts? The knee-length coats made from the finest Italian fabric?

Ultimately, his personal choice didn't matter. If he wanted to fit seamlessly into this new, modern world, to lure in strangers with a charming smile, he had to look the part. His present attire had worked to great effect back in his time, the clothes fit for the aristocracy he proudly belonged to, but now? Now he doubted he could wander the streets in such formal clothing and be taken seriously, if Elora's critical glances at the fine wear was in any way emblematic of how society at large would view him.

He silently cursed under his breath and sent the portrait a glance, his gaze fixated upon Athanasias as if seeking her advice; her guidance on how best to approach the situation. He knew what she would say, of course - she would chastise him for his moodiness, force him to take the offer of help extended to him before his stubbornness got him into a hole he couldn't clamber out of. She would laugh at his whines, ridicule him with a playful pluck of his nose for his 'childishness' before turning serious, speaking plainly in her insistence to get him to adjust to the world he had try and navigate. To understand that he could only do that if he looked the part.

And that could only be achieved with Elora's help.

It took a further moment, after he had decided to accept the offer of clothing despite his own personal resistance against the style, for him to consider how Elora possessed those clothes in the first place. Confusion dawned on his features as he considered, for the first time, whether she lived alone or if she had a partner, or at least a male relative whose clothes he would be borrowing.

And if the former was the case, if she did live alone, then it only proceeded to stir up Chaol's confusion further, with the idea of a woman living alone in the house, without a man at its helm, being... alarming for his rather archaic mindset. He was from a different time, and though many of his opinions had been progressive during that period, to the point of him risking imprisonment were he to be open about them, a woman living independent of a man's company was something he struggled to comprehend. Was he against it; offended by it? Hardly, he truly didn't care less--

But to see how far society had come in a relatively short time was... bewildering.

"Is there not a man of the house? A husband or your betrothed, perhaps? Or, if not, a brother; a father? Do not tell me you are living here alone, Elora? That is quite... strange; unconventional. At least, to my knowledge it is. It would never have happened in a dignified household in my day," he retorted with a casual shrug, the faintest of smiles returning to the corner of his lips. He would never confess that he was quietly fond of how society had advanced, having often shared long conversations with Athanasias about the treatment of women during their time and how unfair, how ripe with injustice and misogyny, it all was.

He doubted that such mindsets had been fully eviscerated, that the problem had been completely resolved... but at least some progress had been made. Quietly, his eyes returned to the portrait, hoping that, whether Athanasias was, she would be happy about that fact at least.

"Oh, don't... listen to me, an old man with old views. Things have changed, haven't they? There does not need to be a man of the house, I... quite understand that," he -surprisingly- clarified with a small nod of his head, almost hearing Athanasias laugh at him for his outdated manner of speech and, subsequently, outdated views.

Turning his head to take Elora in, he offered another nod.

"I'll take those clothes, though how you have come by them when you live alone proceeds to confound me, but no matter. I am in no position to be fussy. As for a chance to clean myself up, let's not patronise me - I require your assistance in helping with the facilities, so let's get on with it, shall we?" Quipped Chaol sharply. As ever, any indication that a softness, a playfulness, lingered beneath the surface was abruptly overshadowed by a swift return to his stoicism, the remnants of a smile firmly dismissed by yet another frown.

He took one step forwards to showing the more amiable side to him, and then swiftly took two steps back, returning to his moodiness; his sombreness.

"And maybe as we go along, you can tell me what a box of juice is. You mentioned it earlier, during our first meeting-" a pause, during which Chaol's eyes glinting mischievously as the thought of drinking from Elora's neck, digesting her fear, came to mind. "-but you never clarified just what it was. If I am to fit into this new time, I need to know these things, Elora. You are not helping, as I demanded you to, if you withhold potentially important information from me, are you?"
 
Elora watched in amusement as the man crinkled his nose at the suggestion he was to wear clothing from her time period. The look of pure disgust residing on his face undeniable. She could only assume how distraught his thoughts have become now, could see the discomfort at the fact that she was asking out of his suave clothing that had seen better days and into modern-day clothing. It was all so sad…



Yet seeing his discomfort brought some joy to the woman. As caring and understanding as she tried to be, Elora was still human. And sometimes she too reveled in the discomfort of someone who has been…well let's say less than kind to her. Yet still, the woman had a tender heart and did not wish to make him agonize over something so…simple.



"We will get you proper clothing tomorrow. Every store is closed right now. This will only be a temporary fix. You can still buy your uptight, stuffy clothing. It will just not be soooo…" Elora paused, twirling her wrist in the air, struggling to find the right word to describe what she thought of clothing. "…dramatic." Finding the word she thought would be the least offensive.



As he began to question where the man of the house was, if she lived with a brother, husband, or some male companion—Elora's first instinct was to get more offended. Her neck turning slightly red, a light shade of pink-hued her cheeks—something akin to embarrassment seeing into her features. No, she did not have any of that—perhaps at one point, she might have been engaged but not anymore. Never again perhaps even. While time has indeed changed over the years and more women were living alone, never marrying, Elora couldn't help but feel some amount of shame. Here she was 28 years of age and she has failed at starting a family, settling down, and finding someone who loved her. Instead, she was starting back to square one. Having no friends, far away from any remaining family.



Alone.



Perhaps this is the way things needed to be.



Before she could respond, Chaol quickly backtracked, as if he understood what he was saying was rather…old—dated even. It was…surprising to say the least. That he had a deeper understanding of one thing in his current timeline. With a softened face and even softer voice, the woman shook her head. "'No…no women no longer need a man in the home. Believe it or not, we can also show our ankles in public too." A fake gasp or horror befell her lips, as if that was going to be the most shocking thing he would end up coming across.



Elora worried how he would fair seeing the public at the beach. What little clothing they would have. How ill-modest it might seem.



He might just have a heart attack.



"As for how I acquired the clothing. They are from a past partner. I was going to burn them but just haven't got the chance to. They are clean though I promise." Though her words were reassuring. There were under notes in her voice of a scorned woman—bitter almost at the thought of having something that belonged to a former lover.



Then, all at once a laugh bubbled from the woman's lips as he questioned her about the juice box. Vaguely threatening, intimidating her on if she was holding information against him—afraid she would make a fool of him out in public. "I don't mean to laugh. Forgive me. It's just…a little funny." Backing out of the room she went back to her own, assuming he would follow her. Explaining as they moved along. "A juice box is…well it's exactly what it sounds like. They are usually used for little kids, though some adults don't mind partaking in them either. You can get it in different flavors: apple, orange, and grape being the favorite choices. So the box usually comes with a little straw attached. You stab the seal with the straw and drink its contents. I'll…grab some from the store so you can try one. I promise though, I'm not willingly keeping any information from you."



As she talked, Elora went into her closet, shuffling around in the room until she returned with a pair of sweatpants and a black shirt with some kind of…demoniac monster on it. "This is a band shirt. It's a group of people who play music. Perhaps a little rougher than what you are use to hearing."



With a slight smile, she moved back past him, heading down the hallway to another door, opening it up to a shower and tub combination. Fresh towels were already hanging by the shower door, ready for the next person to use. An array of containers sat within the shower, Elora explaining which ones were shampoo, conditioner, and one for something called a shower bubble bath. Reaching into the shower, Elora turned a black knob showing him out to turn the water on. Water pelleting down at a seemingly uncomfortable pace.



"The further left you turn this knob, the hotter the water becomes. Just be aware of that, you don't want to accidentally scold yourself."



Placing his clothing on a vanity stand, she went to stand beside the bathroom door once more. "If you need any help, just yell.I'm sure whatever it is, it could be quickly sorted out."
 
The sarcastic quip that fell from Elora's lips immediately caught Chaol by surprise, so much so that he failed to disguise it in time, the indifference staining his face now broken by that shock. For a moment, he wasn't sure how to proceed in the wake of the playfulness, struggling to appropriately comprehend it and its potential consequences. After all, he was hardly making the right impression if she felt comfortable teasing him in such a manner. He was supposed to be feared by all, regarded with wariness, unease.

She had not only read about his past behaviour as the monster stalking the town, but had witnessed firsthand the extent of what Chaol was capable of as he tore through her skin like a hot knife through butter. He had threatened her with entire sincerity, snarling and sneering venomously at her with every intention to act upon his violent promises if she stepped a toe out of line.

And yet, in spite of all the evidence before her to warn her against this man, this vampire, Elora wasn't retreating from conversation nor even attempting to shield herself from interaction. On the contrary, she was holding a discussion with apparent ease and, even more strikingly, she was digesting his remarks and throwing back a quip or two at them, encouraging the atmosphere to become almost playful as a result.

It should be everything that Chaol despised. It should unsettle him, give him cause for fearing that others beyond the home would treat him with similar disregard. He should be wary of losing his grip of the fear he usually was able to command at will, worried that centuries locked away had robbed him of that undeniable power.

...But Chaol failed to prioritise those more understandable, characteristic reactions when all Elora's qui had truly done was amuse him. He was undeniably taken in by it, even if he knew, deep down, that he should brush it aside and not pay it, or Elora, any attention. And yet, contrary to the wisdom of that, the vampire found himself humming beneath his breath in approval, regarding the woman with a fresh gaze, as if only now seeing her for who she was.

Even as she laughed, almost derisively at his naivety, Chaol couldn't find it in himself to be angered by it. Ordinarily, feeling mocked by someone with greater knowledge than he possessed would have enraged him. He would have snarled angrily, threatened Elora into silence, maybe even grabbed her by her neck and thrust her against the wall to truly make his point abundantly clear to her - but none of that came to fruition. Rather, perhaps softened by her earlier tease and how it had quietly opened him up to see her a little more favourably than he had done prior, Chaol arched a brow, his head slightly at an angle as he allowed the laughter to wash over him.

She did have a magnificent laugh, melodic and sing-songy.

Contagious.

Adorable.

"This is... rather appalling," he remarked as he held the band shirt out at arms' length, his lips twisted in dismay. The idea of wearing something so informal and otherwise ugly to his eye hardly appealed, but what choice did he really have if this was the only feasible option available to him? Thus, with unsubtle mutters of petulant annoyance breaking past his lips, he trailed after her, only pausing from his mutterings to take in the details of his home and its altered interior. Every aspect of it pained him, every difference like a stab to the heart.

Everything had changed while he... remained the same, locked away and frozen in time as it charged forward without him.

"If I yell, am I to expect you to charge in here to assist me? Because I cannot allow such a thing, Elora. I will be as naked as the day I was born and that is no sight an unmarried woman such as yourself should witness. I would not run to your aid if the situations were reversed because some sights are for the eyes of a married partner only; these are private matters--" He began, speaking slowly, patronisingly, as though it was so obvious that it tired him to have to explain it to her, though he abruptly cut himself off with a faint snort when he considered his own hypocrisy.

He couldn't claim that those sights were for married eyes only when he had taken Athanasias to his bed before they were engaged, enjoying her body, her kiss, before any intention of marriage had been uttered.

"...Besides, I wish I had no brought such images to mind. The thought of your bare ankle alone is quite scandalous," he proceeded as he observed the shower with interest, setting a hand beneath the water to check its temperature-- all while a smirk danced on his lips at his own effort to reciprocate the teasing energy. It was against his better wisdom, playing into danger of forming a connection with a woman he knew was best kept at arms' length.

But temptations were strong and he felt powerless in this instance to resist them.

"No, I will be fine, Elora. I am a grown man; not a child. I know how to work this--" The vampire grimaced, aware that his point had lost its strength when he couldn't recall the name of the shower. Shaking his head with a swift glare over his shoulder to ensure she didn't laugh once again at his naivety, he silently worked at unbuttoning his waistcoat, fingers working nimbly to undo it from his frame.

"I can wash myself, thank you; I do not need your eyes upon me. Leave; I will... see you in the morning, we can continue our lessons then. Until then, I require rest in my bed; you can return to your strange devices."
 
Amazingly, this cold-hearted—world-hating man held his temper. Her playful words seeming to intrigue him rather than infuriate. Perhaps it wasn't a smart idea to treat the man as kindly as Elora was, she would be best holding Chaol at arm's length. One wrong move, one misunderstanding, and her life would be over. Perhaps she was tempting fate—not believing the stories that have been posted online. Perhaps she was naive to the actual dangers this man possessed. The horrors that he could make her live through.

Or perhaps.

Perhaps she was just dumb.

Clearly, something must have been wrong with her brain—treating an apex predator as if he was some ordinary person. Not daring to treat him with half the respect others did simply out of fear. Perhaps Chaol would have to show her the cruelty he was capable of. Or maybe—just maybe he could bask in the simplicity that was Elora, at least in that moment. How easy she joked, how naturally her laugh came. The way her eyes lit up ever so slightly when he gave his hum of approval. As if proud that she succeeded in some kind of task she had put on herself.

A task to lighten the room even just a little bit. Judging by the look on Chaols face….she was sure she had just done that. Even if it was just for the barest of moments.

As Chaol chastised her shirt, the woman found herself rolling her eyes behind his back. Not daring to do such an act to his face…at least not yet.

"Trust me. Once we get you some proper clothing we can burn it."

Elora patiently stood by, watching as Chaol leaned forward, placing his hand under the water. The pressure soothing, relaxing even. The tempter may be a little too warm, but not something one could not bear.
A look of horror did cross the woman's face as he asked if she would come charging into that bathroom to save him from whatever conundrum he found himself in. "I am confident in my abilities to explain to you whatever issue you have behind the bathroom door. So don't worry I won't come rushing in. I'm not some kind of pervert. And I would hope you would not come rushing in while I'm bathing either." Elora hummed, though there was a tint of red in her cheeks again from the simple mentions of seeing him naked.

While there was still fear in her system, Elora would be blind to not see the beauty that was Chaol. A dark beauty that seemed all too forbidding yet enticing at once. The sharpness of his jaw, the scowl that graced his lips that would sometime flutter into a smile. His dark hair and eyes to match…he looked to be the villainous love interest in a romance book. The one everyone roots for the main character to go for.
Already she was picturing him in more modern, slick, form-fitting suits. White button-up shirts…perhaps even black or red. Truthfully it seemed his complexion would mix well with any color.

If he had any fears of not being able to catch a victim, male or female, then Chaol was sorely underestimating his beauty. The looks of a fallen angel with a heart to match.
No…should he flash his charm and a simple smile, then the world would simply bow to him.

Elora was so lost in thought, so deeply concentrated on the vampire and his form that she nearly missed his remark about how devious showing a bare ankle was.

"I'll be sure to start wearing higher socks. Wouldn't want to have any impure thoughts now." Playful sarcasm dripped from full lips, a smirk playing at just the edge of them. A look of calm delight filled her face, seemingly enjoying this small teasing session. Both seeming to get a feel of each other's true nature.
However, just how long would those moments last?

When he finally cast his gaze, his glare back to Elora, he would find the human holding a dainty hand over her mouth, the creases by her eyes betraying the fact that she was smiling behind that hand. "Shower…the word you are looking for is shower." Tension held her voice as she tried to keep herself from breaking into laughter.

Of course, he wasn't a child.

No child would forget a word that simple.

"Alright. Goodnight Lord De Villiers. I will see you tomorrow." With that the woman turned to walk away, gently closing the bathroom door behind her.

Heading back into the master bedroom, Elora flopped onto the bed—a long sigh escaping her lips. It had been…a rather long night. Her body finally feeling the exhaustion creeping in, the terror she had felt hours before. The adrenaline finally leaving her system.
How was she going to survive this? It was possible by tomorrow morning the man would be holding her by the throat. Threatening her should she make the wrong step. Surly he was as tired as she was, if not more. After all…this was a lot of information to take in all at once.

What was she doing?

Perhaps…just perhaps those questions were best to wait for their answer.
For now, it would be best if she let sleep take her. Tomorrow was going to be as equally if not more stressful.

Getting up the woman flipped the lights off in her bedroom, leaving the door open just in case Chaol needed something.

Crawling under her comforter, Elora curled up—allowing sleep to take her.
 
It was only after Elora had left the bathroom, and thus left Chaol to his own devices, that the vampire undressed and submerged himself beneath the hot water, allowing the heat to wash over him; cleansing him from all he had suffered throughout the lost decades now firmly of the past. Part of him wanted to enjoy the almost therapeutic nature of the process, tilt his head up to meet the water with eyes shut, allowing nothing but the sound of the high-pressured flow to fill his ears--

But nothing was ever quite so simple. As devoted as he wanted to be to the moment and the moment alone, thoughts proceeded to spiral when he least wanted them to, bashing around cacophonously against his will. Those thoughts ranged from anything to everything: thoughts on how to adjust to this new world, thoughts on how he would reclaim his notoriety, thoughts on how to operate in a household he no longer had to himself.

But, perhaps predictably, the thoughts inevitably returned to Athanasias and how she would react to the light playfulness that had taken place between him and Elora. It was a teasing exchange that he thought lacked flirtation, but how could he be so certain when he had been locked away from the world for so long? Flirtation might have adopted new subtleties in the modern age and he, with his naivety, may have inadvertently contributed to any of the flirtatiousness that Elora possibly presented to him. What if she had been flirting and he, oblivious to how it worked in this time, had engaged with it? Presented her with the idea that he was interested and attracted to her?

He would be remiss not to admit to himself, alone and in private, that she was beautiful, possessing a delicateness that he struggled to look past. She wasn't in the mold of Athanasias, lacking the Princess' deeper features and dark tresses, but, with her bright eyes and soft blonde locks, Chaol couldn't deny Elora her beauty - nor how it caused his eye to linger upon her face for a beat too long now and then, before he forced himself to regain his composure and tear his gaze away.

Before Athanasias, Chaol had never envisioned himself developing a love for anybody. His life was one dedicated to his own solitude and that was simply how he desired it to be - but she swept into his life and changed it all, opened up his heart to embracing emotion and allowing himself to feel. How could he ever return to that mindset without Athanasias; without the one person who he felt was the other half of his own identity? He had told her, time and time again, that she was the one, his soul's partner--

Would Athanasias truly accept the idea that Chaol could find love after her? Would she be somewhere in the afterlife now, observing his internal struggle at finding another woman beautiful and judge him for it? Hate him for it?

Chaol exhaled a heavy breath as he stepped from the shower, the process not as relaxing as he had hoped it would be initially when the time had been spent cursing himself for the thoughts racing in his head. Regardless of Elora's beauty and the faint enjoyment he garnered from their conversation, with all its teasing and playfulness, he couldn't allow himself to be distracted by it; to allow any bond to form.

He had loved once and it had ended painfully.

He wouldn't allow himself to ever be placed in a position like that again.

No, Elora was pretty, she was amusing... but that was as far as Chaol was allowing himself to venture; as far as he allowed his thoughts to creep.

Resigning himself to changing into the clothes, it took all strength inside him not to laugh aloud incredulously as he cast a glance down at himself. As uncomfortable as he was in the baggy bottoms and t-shirt, such items entirely uncharacteristic for how he preferred to present himself, he couldn't afford to be fussy and toss them aside. No, he was deprived of all choice and thus he sank onto his bed, at least hoping to wake up in the morning with a renewed sense of optimism for what his future had in store for him.

By the time morning did rise, Chaol's eyes drifted open to the feel of the sun's rays kissing his skin through the crack in the curtains. It had been centuries since he last felt the sun warm his skin and, for a moment, the vampire chose to simply lie in bed, soaking in the sensation, before temptation won out and he, with a little groan as a result of his still tired muscles, drifted across to fling back the curtains and fully embrace the sunlight in all its glory. For a minute or two, he stood in observation of the morning sun, with the orange it brought to the sky, to the clouds, making a smile rest upon his lips, albeit mostly at the memory of him and Athanasias taking their breakfast out to the gardens to observe the sunrise; a sunrise not too dissimilar from the one his eyes now graced.

Eventually, Chaol turned on his heel and left for the dining room, planning to resume the routine that he had enjoyed before his imprisonment. He would sit beside the fireplace in the great hall, a newspaper open in front of him and a mug of blood, warmed by the fire, in hand, taking in the news of the day with great intrigue and interest. Where he would either his newspaper or the blood was a loss to him - he didn't know if Elora possessed the former and he couldn't risk taking the latter from her without weakening her considerably; an act he didn't wish to inflict when her purpose in his life had some necessity.

Instead, he chose to sit at the table and await her presence, deciding that he could bombard her with his wants and needs and demand that she honour them-- as though she was a servant in the household, dutifully tending to her Lord.
 
Morning came to Elora with an easy start. The sun dancing into her room, warm and embracing. Easing away the cold darkness that was the night. As peaceful as it was, the small woman found herself groaning, wishing for the darkness to last just a bit longer—just so she could continue on in a deep sleep. However, the light persisted, beckoning her eyes open and to begin a new day.

A foggy mind slowly began to catch up to her, recalling the night events with a slight bit of confusion. Surely everything she experienced, everything that had happened the night before was just an intense dream. A result of her reading a book, wishing for a life of mystery shrouded by darkness. Playing out the fantasy to be the main character, to go on such an exciting adventure into the unknown. That their boring life had now been opened up to something new and more exciting than the humdrum of the mundane world.

Yes…it was all only a dream.

The slight dull pain in her neck was simply because she slept on it wrong. It was not from the bite of a vampire. A creature that did not exist outside the plains of fantasy.

Elora was alone in the house. And alone she would stay.

Kicking off her covers, the woman rose to begin her day. Dressing in a crop top and her own pair of sweatpants Elora began her descent downstairs. Stopping in the kitchen to make herself a drink and something to eat, wondering just what she wanted to do that day. If she should go shopping for more food…maybe buy some juice boxes like her dream suggested. It did sound pretty good after all.


With a bowl of cereal in one hand and coffee in the other Elora walked into the grand dining hall. The calmness she once felt suddenly came to a screeching halt. The woman physically jumping, spilling her food just as a harsh "Jesus fucking Christ" left her lips. Wide eyes stared at Chaol, his presence indicating everything that had happened last night to be true. That she was now co-existing with a vampire. A moody vampire at that.


"I…uh…good morning." Stammering the woman moved to sit her food and drink down before she could spill anymore. "Did you sleep well?" causal were her questions as she tried to still a hammering heart. "If you're hungry I can make you something to eat. I'm not sure what kind of food you like, I'm sure it won't be as…elegant as you once knew. Looking down at her cereal, then back to the vampire—the woman titled her head just ever so slightly. "You can try this cereal if you want. It's pretty sugary. If you like sweets I'm sure you will enjoy this."
 
At hearing her footsteps above him as Elora rose from sleep to proceed with her day, perhaps it would have been wise for Chaol to open the curtains in the dining room and allow in some of the sunshine he craved. Perhaps it would have even been polite for him to rise from his chair in preparation for her entrance, offering a smile and a welcoming nod to the woman he was destined to share his space with for the foreseeable future.

But niceties, pleasantries and politeness weren't exactly characteristic for a man such as Chaol, with the words themselves barely ever making an appearance in his lexicon. Rather, the vampire remained casually sat back against the chair -having opted to sit at the head of the table, as he had made a habit of when he owned the home- and lifted his eyes when the door creaked open, expecting to witness Elora regard him with a chirpy 'hello', a continuation, even, of the pleasant atmosphere that had developed between them before they parted the night before.

It wasn't an atmosphere that Chaol was intent on continuing, however. As amused as he had been by the interaction and all it had encompassed, he was fearful of the dangerous territory he was venturing into by opening himself up to... vulnerabilities; exposing himself to the weakness that would envelop him were he to let anyone through his barriers once again. Even exchanging potentially meaningless quips with a woman who was still a stranger to him might put him at risk of... growing to like her; to regard her as something more than a temporary nuisance he had to put up with.

No, Chaol determined to make a sharp return to the moody demeanour that had welcomed Elora when their eyes first met each other, because at least that way he could protect himself from hurt down the line - and protect his character from softening as it had in Athanasias' presence. She was the exception, the only one he would ever allow see his tender side.

Elora couldn't be allowed it. She couldn't... see that beneath the monster, beneath the vampire, there was a heart there.

Emotions, passions, feelings.

Yet, maintaining a severe expression in her company, as he had determined himself to, became an impossible feat at the exclamation that burst from her lips. It was hardly ladylike in nature, the curses being words he would never have heard fall from Athanasias' lips for instance, but any judgement Chaol instinctively felt reside on his lips parted when amusement rose, with the sound of her ferociously beating heart only succeeding in humouring him further. He was so amused, in fact, that a deep, throaty chuckle emerged, the rare sound of the man's laughter abruptly filling the echoing dining room in response to Elora's startlement and subsequent efforts to compose herself.

Try as she might, the memory was now firm in Chaol's mind, replaying itself over and over for his own entertainment.

"Oh, did I scare you? How awful of me. I had no idea that me simply sitting here, awaiting your presence, would startle you so much. My, you really are quite the scaredy cat, aren't you, Elora? Really, it's quite... embarrassing," he proceeded when the chuckles died down, even if his expression still wore the amusement - his eyes sparkled, the stern lines of his face now eased with a handsome smile.

"No, I don't think I'll try your awful human food-- do you people not know anything of my kind? I'd be quite sick if I tried to eat any of this... cereal you speak of. I would enjoy a newspaper, however. Catch up with the problems in this modern world of yours," he instead commanded as he eased back against the chair, turning his eyes from the box of cereal with unsubtle disgust, its garish design and the sweetness emanating from within it turning his nose with genuine nausea. To counter it, he turned his body away to focus instead on Elora-- only for his eyes to sharply avert from her at the sight of the crop top.

As teasing as the words about her bare ankles had been, there was genuine discomfort on the vampire's features at the sight of her bare midriff. It was unfathomable to him how she could think it was appropriate to wander about in a man's presence -a man she wasn't romantically linked with- in such little clothing, barely covered up beneath its fabric. His nose crinkled as he fought off the urge to demand she put something on - evidently, his views were antiquated and he would only make himself seem like a disgruntled old man stuck in the past if he attempted to force her to his ways.

Besides, who was he to criticise when he was donning a pair of annoyingly comfy sweatpants and a band t-shirt?

The latter exposed his own skin, both his arms usually covered beneath layers of fine linen shirts and his beloved knee-length coats now on view for all to see. It didn't make him comfortable, having his arms exposed to view, but the alternative was to wear his old clothing and, apparently, that wasn't an option. Unknown to him, there would be positives to wearing something casual from time to time, particularly when he left the house and set off to feed - unhidden from the fabrics that had swaddled his figure, the t-shirt clung nicely to his physique, emphasising the muscle that existed beneath it, while the short sleeves themselves left his arms, grooved with the strength of muscle, open for observation.

He hardly needed help to charm when a smile often did the trick - but it wouldn't hurt to have more in his arsenal, should he need it.

"Do not tell me this time of yours no longer produce newspapers, Elora? They are timeless; necessary. I will not cling to a cellphone for my news when there is too much satisfaction to be found in opening a paper, reading words from the pages," he grunted irritably as he rose a hand to brush his hair from his eyes, the longer locks another remnant of an old style that had been long abandoned. "...A haircut is needed," he determined abruptly, casting her an expectant glance. "You will cut it for me. A style that is worthy of a Lord but decidedly... modern. You can manage that, can't you?"
 
It appeared as though that day was going to be full of surprises. From the reality that she had not made Chaol up, that he was in fact a living vampire sharing her home. Or perhaps more that she was the one invading his home. To the laughter that erupted from the man. A deep, rich laugh that echoed throughout the dining hall. Filling the room with a warmth the house seemed to have been missing.

It was easy to interpret that laughter as cruel laughter at her experience. Easy to write it off as him getting satisfaction in her discomfort of discovering that he was still there, still living—taking over her safe heaven.

However, it was impossible to think such a thing with the amusement that captured his voice. The little thrill of comedy that had been bestowed to him through her startled curses.


She couldn't deny the handsome way he had smiled at her teasing Elora for her reaction. Chaol held a devilish charm that marked him dangerous. Attractive….alluring. Their current interaction making her heart flutter, wishing to hear more of that sound escape his lips…

She must be desperate for some kind of intimacy.

To think of such things with….this squatter. This..this home invader. She must have been out of her mind.

Still, she couldn't help but stutter, scoffing as he called her a scaredy cat. Telling her it was embarrassing that she had reacted the way she did. "I…what—n-no! You did not scare me Chaol. I was simply taken by surprise. I was expecting you to be asleep during the day. Isn't that why your kind does?" Defensive was the way her words pulled out. Embarrassed but not angry, a slight pull at the corner of her lips spoke of her own amusement. Teasing him in the way she dropped his title. As if it would place some kind of emphasis on her stance.

As her embarrassment grew, the woman became increasingly aware of the air that touched her midriff, the look of discomfort that Chaol wore on his face at seeing her in such a state. Self-conscious of her outfit choice.

Lowered arms soon came to cross around her waist attempting to shield her exposed skin. "Oh my bad, I was not aware that my pathetic human food was too much for such a…delicate stomach such as yours. I will keep that in mind from now on."


Thence came the demand, not a request, but a demand for a newspaper. The vampire already denying the phone before she could offer it to him, just like an old man. A thought that amused Elora, though she did not dare to speak it aloud. "I…do not believe they deliver the paper out here anymore. However, I'm sure we can find one in town. I will also see what we can do about getting the papers delivered out here."


Elora watched as Chaol fussed with his air, the locks looking soft to the touch. Even darker now that they were freshly cleaned and dried. Her eyes mesmerized by the way contour of muscle that he managed to keep over the years. The muscles that spoke of his strength and ability to easily snap a person in half, or protect what he deemed worthy of protection.


It took her a moment to realize his request, pulling her thoughts from his form once more. "Oh…oh sir no you do not want me anywhere near your hair with scissors. The last time I tried to give myself bangs I was five and let's just say I had no bangs at all.



Let's see, we are already going shopping today, so I'm sure we can find a proper place to get your hair cut. Let me change and I'll try to find something to satisfy your need for a newspaper."

Without a moment of hesitation, Elora scurried off, apparently in a hurry to change out of her own outfit and into something more appropriate. Abandoning her food and drink, seemingly already forgetting that she had been hungry or that she needed to eat.


Elora couldn't have been gone for more than ten minutes before he heard her footsteps coming back down and into the dining hall. Her crop top and sweat pants had been switched out for a summer time dress. Stopping just above her knees. Thin straps leaving her neck and shoulders exposed—it still showed skin it did shield the more….intimate parts of her flesh.

In her hands, she carried a brush and a larger rectangular device, and a black hair tie rested around her wrist. Placing the tablet down in front of Chaol, he could fine it was already opened on a news station. All kinds of information spread at his fingertips.

"This is a Kindle. It's kinda like a digital book. You just use your finger to scroll down, and if you want to read something you just click the box it's in."

As she explained Elora moved behind him, taking the brush and gently pulling it from the top of his temple and back. "Okay don't freak out on me, I'm just going to tie your hair back so it's less annoying. A temporary fix until we can get it cut for you."
 
"We are going shopping? I was under the impression that you would collect the clothes for me, Elora. Are you not aware that I am a Lord and to do my own shopping would be... well, it is hardly appropriate. I had staff that tended to those needs on my behalf," interjected Chaol swiftly, his amusement dying down at the suggestion that he was to accompany her outside; to wander amongst the town idly shopping for clothes when he felt his status, his title, afforded him the privilege of having others (inevitably, less important people) to do that for him.

In his day, he had had servants to do just that - it wasn't a lie to convince Elora to take the responsibility on without him; it was born of fact, truthful in nature, with Chaol's mind absently flickering back to the time when his home had been inundated with members of staff, rushing to meet his every will and command.

Of course, he didn't have to admit to Elora that he had only had staff under his command for a month at the most. Some fled in fear of his wrath, some chose to leave to avoid the endless bloodshed staining the floors that never seemed to be able to remove in spite of how hard they scrubbed, whereas some, the truly unfortunate few, became victims to Chaol's thirst, their bodies tossed aside with remarkable cruelty when they had served their purpose in sustaining him.

After that month, Chaol had opted against hiring in staff to serve him. As much as he felt he deserved to have those figures, subservient to his demand, it had been far more trouble than it was worth and thus, until Athanasias, he had lived entirely alone, only ever leaving the walls of his historic manor in order to collect guests, to invite them back with him with a charming smile.

Only to inevitably tear into their necks with unrestrained violence when his thirst became too intense for him to bear.

Grinding his teeth, his jaw clenched shut tight at the indignity he felt would stain him at the idea of shopping like the rest of the populace, as though he was on their level, Chaol allowed a breath to escape him (one he obviously didn't need) as his anger, simmering beneath the surface, miraculously eased out, calmed, perhaps, by the teasing smile still residing on Elora's lips. He didn't want to encourage that behaviour, for her to feel as though she was comfortable enough in his presence to banter with him (because it would only allow for feelings to enter the fray and muddy his desire for entire separation)... but he couldn't snap at her to shut up, nor glare at her to remove the smile from her lips.

Not when a part of him had grown rather... fond of the expression and how it lit up her features so... captivatingly.

Granted, this feeling was precisely what he sought to avoid, but he was confident in himself.

As long as he kept Elora at an arms' length, surely he could enjoy her teases whilst not allowing it to go any further; for any true bond to form.

At least, that was the decision Chaol had allowed himself to make, deciding it was best to move with the change, rather than fight it.

He needed Elora, after all - it wasn't wise to continually irritate or hurt her when he was relying on her for assistance, until he no longer required it at least.

"A-- Kindle?" came the inevitable repetition, shaking his head to himself in apparent bemusement. He knew it would be overwhelming, thrust into a world that had moved on without him, but he hadn't imagined it would be quite this... amusing, every new word that Elora taught him not only bewildering him, but also humouring him a great deal. Inevitably, the former dominated as his eyes fell upon the screen, a finger hovered unsurely over a random article as though touching the brightness of the Kindle's screen itself, allowing his fingertip to press to it, would burn him. However, the cellphone and the laptop had proven rather safe so, determined not to be the cause of Elora's ridicule, he took the plunge and pressed his finger down, a small smile of triumph lighting his face when the article loaded and presented itself for digestion before his eyes.

"Hm? What-- this is all rather intimate, is it not?" He questioned as he dared a glance from the screen-- though he quickly returned to it, afraid that it might disappear on him if he didn't give it his entire attention; a fear that was hardly subtle in its presentation, though he could deal with the potential mockery it provoked later on. Ignoring the urge to recall memories of how Athanasias would run her fingers through his hair, lightly reprimanding him for allowing it to grow out longer than suited him, Chaol bit the inside of his cheek and gave a swift nod, encouraging Elora to do what she felt could be done for now.

"...If I am to go shopping, then I will bring myself a snack home. Some inconsequential human whose sole purpose is to sustain me. Unless you would like to weaken yourself day by day being my personal... box of juice, I need to feed, Elora. I am not an amusing house guest for you to teach; I am a vampire. You cannot expect me to live here without blood staining these floors; without evidence of my thirst lining the halls," he muttered, unable to meet her gaze but capturing it through the reflection of the Kindle instead. "...I am not your chum, your friend. I am a vampire, it would do you well not to forget that. So when corpses are gathered here, when people you might recognise from the town start to disappear... be aware that you could quite easily follow them into the grave if you are not discrete. If you do not hold your tongue and keep this secret. Are we clear?"
 
"Well, when you had servants I am sure they were aware what size to get your outfits in. Unfortunately for you, we do not have that luxury at the moment…" there was a short pause the woman not giving him a chance to suggest that she could feel coming, "and no, I will not be measuring you. Besides, I think it would be best if you came out and saw the world for what it is now. There have been a lot of changes and it would be best if you were prepared for such a thing."



Of course, the woman was oblivious to the horror he left on those workers. The cruelty provided them with should they disappoint, disobey. Nor did she know the countless lives that had been lost to the hands of Chaol, much less in the house they currently resided in.

There had been some reminders of his horror when Elora first moved in. Darkened wood that, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it, she could not. As though the stain was one with the house…though it was nothing a rug couldn't cover up. The woman figuring it had changed due to aging or something that had been burnt there long ago. Not once did the thought of blood cross her mind. The thought of murder far from her imagination. No, she was still painfully naive to the things Chaol was capable of.



The small woman had paused when he spoke of how intimate it was for her to be brushing his hair back. Elora proceeding his question, contemplating if he was right or not. "Hmmm…I suppose it depends on the person really. A lot of people do this kind of thing for a living, such as the person who is going to cut your hair. There isn't much intimacy about it, a lot of women are hairdressers. So it's just like another task, I've done this for quite a few people without much affection. Especially if it's a female who got a little too drunk at a club. However, if you find it intimate or uncomfortable I will refrain from doing something like this in the future."



As she talked Elora continued to work on his hair, pulling it back into half up ponytail, a modern masculine alternative to the more feminine ponytail she would often wear.

All at once Chaol suddenly let out a rash reality, one that she had yet to consider. Why she hadn't yet…that was beyond her.



Through the reflection he could see the woman pause, a hint of worry tugging at her face. Causing her brows to furrow slightly and the corners of her mouth to fall into a frown. Through the reflection of the Kindle, Chaol could see the human thinking. Trying to decide just what the correct answer was, trying to find a way so others did not get hurt—did not die due to her lack of abilities to contain the monster she had let out.

The thought of him drinking from her on a daily sounded exhausting, hell she was so worn out from last night she could possibly think how she would function if he did it every day. Yet there had been other factors playing along too, the adrenaline she had felt when he came out of the box. The sheer fright he had given her, and the uneasy she felt when she first led him into the office.



She had also been his first meal since waking, Chaol drinking enough for her to become light-headed. The Stopping short of allowing her vision to collapse and for her to faint.

The topic weighed heavy on her mind, just as it had on Athanasia so long ago. Perhaps it was human nature to fret about such a thing, of course, not many wanted to have the blood of innocents spilled on their hands. Holding a soft spot for humanity more than most.



It was…troublesome. Even more so if they got caught. If the police were to show up…just what would they do? Or would the townspeople take it into their own hands just as they did many, many years ago?



"I mean…" Elora started, pulling her hands back from Chaols hair, stepping away from him once more. "I could take some iron supplements so it wouldn't be too horrible if you used me as your food. I'm unsure just how much you would get your fill, however." Elora started pausing as she crossed her arms, fingers drumming against soft skin. "If you really do not wish to join me shopping then you can stay home. It's your funeral about what I bring back though. Could be another band tee-shirt."



With a slight chuckle, the woman turned back to the vampire, moving to collect the discarded food and drink she had once planned to enjoy alone. "Perhaps if you have to bring someone back. I could not be around. I don't think I could bare to watch someone die." There was a slight sorrow to her voice when Elora spoke of such a thing, indicating just how truly it bothered her for something so…naturally unnatural to occur.



However that sound was gone just as quickly as it came, a slight snort leaving her as he spoke of not telling anyone, not a single soul, of what he was.

"You are crystal clean your Lordship." Elora hummed amused that he had returned to threatening her once more.

"If I did tell anyone, they would just think I was crazy. Your kind is not suppose to be real, just a fantasy for many. I'm sure others would think it was some weird kink thing too." Laughing more easily Elora moved to sit across the vampire now—easing the tension that settled only moments ago.
 
Satisfied that his point had been made and his desires would meet no resistance when he sought to make them into reality, Chaol eased back comfortably with the Kindle settled on his lap, his leg crossed smoothly across the other to provide the device a little stability. He wasn't blind to the hesitation that marked Elora's face at the thought of those who would lose their lives to his bloodlust; of perhaps even being guilty by her association when that moment came - after all, wasn't she just as guilty if she knew what would happen to the innocent humans that were invited to the home and chose not to warn them against their oncoming fate?

But what choice did Elora truly have? If she spoke up to warn the prospective victims, she would become one of them, the threats against her life weighing so heavily that she wasn't left with a choice other than to turn her head and allow Chaol to do whatever he wished. Regardless of the upturn in the atmosphere, the surprising ease in which they could sit in one another's company, he was still egotistic; still clinging to his sense of superiority over all others.

If he wanted something, he expected to receive it - and if he told someone to shut their mouth and allow him to do as he pleased, he didn't anticipate pushback on that front. He could see it was difficult for Elora and perhaps he understood why it would be on some level. After all, just because his humanity had long abandoned him didn't mean he was naive to how it resided strongly with Elora, and subsequently how the thought of watching innocent people lose their lives just to fuel the vampire sat confidently in front of her would unnerve her.

He just didn't care.

No, if he wanted to feed, if he wanted to soak in the terror he caused and viciously tear his prey apart limb by limb, then he would. He would gladly stain the walls with blood, drench the floorboards with that crimson... and watch over Elora with disinterest as he forced her to clean it all.

His hands were that of a Lord's - far too important to be put to such menial tasks.

Setting the Kindle down after a moment in quiet irritation, irked that he couldn't lose himself to the story when the conversation seemed destined to proceed, he tapped his fingers nimbly against his knee as he contemplated just what ideas humans now had of his kind. There had been a few pieces of literature regarding vampires during his time, some surprisingly accurate in their depictions of the dreaded 'monster' that lurked in the shadows-- but they weren't wholly accurate, and many a time Chaol found himself perusing those books with a smirk, laughing to himself in amusement at many of the falsities contained within the works.

He didn't imagine there had been much improvement in that field since he last amused himself with the studies. After all, to most, his existence wasn't real - he was supposed to be a being of fiction, not a real-life being whose bloodlust actively affected those around him. There was no need for anyone writing of the vampire to fact-check themselves when vampires weren't real. No, authors could make up whatever detail they desired, reinvent the vampire to suit their narrative.

However embarrassing Chaol found it all when many of those details differed dramatically from his actual experience.

"It would be ridiculous of me to tell you my weaknesses as a vampire, I'm not stupid, Elora. But I will tell you that the sunlight... oh, it doesn't burn my skin; it doesn't torment me. Many a morning was spent out in the gardens beneath the dawning sun, letting it kiss my skin," he drawled as he absently let a finger rest in the faint beam of sunlight that broke through the smallest crack on the floor-to-ceiling curtains, smirking to himself when no rise of smoke, no burning, occurred from the contact. He could admit that sunlight tired him after a while; that it drained him of his energy and he could only truly recover when he returned to the shade, the shadows, that his kind were characterised by-- but it was admitting again to a weakness she could use to her advantage if she ever decided to try and get rid of him.

It was smarter to keep her in the dark as long as he was able to.

He couldn't be sure that the cheery smiles and teasing words weren't a cover for hatred; that Elora didn't harbour thoughts of driving a stake through his heart and ridding herself of the monsters in her halls.

"...I'll accompany you shopping because I don't trust that you have the appropriate sense of fashion to style someone of my stature and prestige. Even if I am to wear modern clothes, I still desire them to be fashionable; to be worthy of dressing a Lord like myself. You, with your strange attire, do not give me much hope on that front," he muttered with a faint, dramatic sigh, resting his chin in his hand as his eyes once again fell on the other. "Besides, I wish to see what has become of this town in my absence. I cannot do that from the comfort of my home, can I?"
 
Elora watched the man with mild interest as she began to eat her food. Listening as he claimed that him telling her any of his weaknesses would be stupid. To be frank, Chaol wasn't wrong. The man wasn't naive enough to think Elora would not use his own weaknesses against him. To use them as a way to subdue the man, perhaps even to force him back into the box he had once came from. No…he was not that dumb.
The world had made him bitter, taught him hard lessons that he may never recover from. His trust for humanity greatly tainted—leaving nothing but revenge and pain for those who dare cross his path.

Was it fair to blame him, however? Clearly, humanity had turned their back on him long ago. Caused him insufferable pain that he still felt today. Stole away years of joy and happiness, replacing them with cold and lonely solitude.

No…one could not blame him for his feelings.

The human across from him watched as a long finger sat in the beam of golden light. Just as he said, the light did not seem to affect him in a way she had believed. A small sound of wonder escaping her lips. No sound of skin sizzling, the smell of burning flesh, no pain shot across the vampire's features. Chaol did not even sparkle when the light touched him.

So far Elora could check off Twilight, The Lost Boys, and Interview With a Vampire. Classics that she loved all spewing nothing but nonsense.

Pulling her phone from a hidden pocket in her dress, Elroa opened the notes section and began typing.


Elora's Grimoire of Vampires

"Does not burn or sparkle in the sunlight. Will continue to monitor.

Obviously needs blood to survive.

Does not need to sleep in a coffin and running water seems to not affect him. "

Gazing up from over her phone screen, Elora locked eyes with the creature once more, giving him the rest of her attention. "That's rather interesting my Lord.
I'm just assuming, you know with my sad little human brain, that crosses and the Bible have an effect on you? Judging by how those were found in the basement my thoughts would be correct."
Despite now Chaol already told her he would not give out his weaknesses. Would not give her the satisfaction of knowledge of his kind…Elora couldn't help but try.

Already she had some things figured out about Chaol. He was a "holier than thou" type of person. God complex, and narcissistic. Two words in which Elora would explain his personality. If she wanted information from him, what better way than talking down about herself or humanity as a whole? It was quite possible that she could slip further past his defense by using that mannerism.

Then again she would be walking a thin line. One wrong slip and he would close up. Perhaps come rageful with her trying to deceive him.

To her surprise, the vampire was more accepting to go shopping with her…all the while tagging a dig at her current dress that she had changed into. Looking down at herself a slight frown fell to the woman's face, a blonde eyebrow rising in a coming question. "What's wrong with my dress?" Deceptive hurt filled her voice, as if his words were taken as a personal insult.
Something she was sure that Chaol had been striving for.

Rolling her own eyes Elora took a drink of her coffee, daring the stunt in front of him now. "I'm going to find the ugliest thing for you to wear and not tell you now. Is it fashionable, or is it not? You wouldn't know." With a huff Elora stood up, picking up her now empty glass and cup. "I suppose we could start going then. It takes a little bit of time to get into town. As we've both seemed to agree, it would be best for you to see how the world has changed first hand. Technically speaking you could see it through the internet and not have to leave the house. However, that is a lot different then actually experiencing it."

Moving to the kitchen, Elora dropped her dishes into the sink. Promising herself she would clean them up later. Moving out to the foyer, the young woman stopped at an odd snapped box that seemed out of place. Pulling on a handle, however, revealed a plethora of shoes. The front of the box leaned open, allowing the woman to snatch a pair of heels for herself—slipping them on with the greatest of ease.
Shutting the shoe holder back up, the woman reached to grab a little black back off a hook just above the holder, opening it up to only pull out a set of keys.
 
The amusement that had derisively flickered on the vampire's lips, the overwhelming smugness that clung to every feature on his face, became disrupted, disjointed, by Elora's smart quip about the crosses and the Bibles that had lined the chest of his imprisonment, preventing his escape for decade after decade. It had been an oversight to forget that Elora had been the one to free him, though frankly, he didn't think she would be smart enough to recall the pages amongst the chains, scriptures and scrawling from various Bible verses , let alone put two and two together in such a way.

Yet, it was clearly his fault for having underestimated just how much she had taken in and absorbed in that basement-- like it had been his fault for underestimating what the humans who came to his home baring pitchforks and flames were capable of when they forced him to the chest that would be his tomb for all these years, successfully lining its exterior with everything that had prevented his escape. It was easy for Chaol to forget just how... capable humans were - when he viewed them only as nuisances who occasionally held a purpose in sustaining his survival, quenching his blood thirst, he could forget that they had feelings, emotions, thoughts and ideas.

Though if he was honest, none of it changed how he truly viewed them.

Feelings or otherwise, they still irked him with their incessant nonsense.

How could he be blamed for forgetting some were rather intelligent when the majority were so pitiful and pathetic?

He could counter her assertion, argue that crosses didn't burn his flesh and the Bible didn't repulse him, but why bring that risk onto himself? She could quite easily shrug and then test the theory herself, arriving to his bedroom in the dead of night whilst dangling a cross and rosary beads over his head. Worst still, she could choose to thrust it against his skin, causing it to sizzle and bubble painfully--

Chaol averted his gaze with a faint grimace, unwilling to allow himself to think about Elora sinking to those depths to get back at him; to torment him. It would be unwise to lower his guard and believe that she wouldn't form a plan, create a list of his weaknesses and possibly use them against him one day, but he didn't want to live life consumed by the fear he was supposed to create in others. No, he had to have some belief that his threats against her terrified her into compliance and obedience, because if he allowed for even a sliver of doubt to exist, he would be walking on eggshells within his own home; around a human who should be fearful of him.

It wasn't supposed to be the other way around.

"...I know you are teasing me, Elora, but let me make this crystal clear to you - if you put me in a situation that brings embarrassment onto me, that makes me a figure for mockery in this town, I will react to such disrespect. I may require your assistance, but do not think you are special. That you are irreplaceable. All I would need to do is smile charmingly at a woman in this town and she would drop everything to assist me-- and I don't doubt that she would do so with greater devotion, greater obedience, than you," sneered Chaol as he rose to his feet, collecting the shoes he had abandoned before entering the dining room.

Was it a dampener on the jovial mood to return to brutally to the moodiness, the threats, that had dominated their early reactions? Perhaps - but Chaol didn't want to create a good atmosphere; didn't want to be at risk of developing a connection with Elora.

It was better for them both if coldness remained at the heart of his interactions with her; if her eyes met with an icy, emotionless gaze.

If she thought he was incapable of feeling; incapable of... emotions beyond the negative.

It was easier -safer- that way.

At the additional inch or two her heels gave her, Chaol arched a brow and fought to hide the smirk that wanted to break out alongside it because, heels or not, he still towered over her; still looked down at her from his statuesque height with ease.

What wasn't amusing about that?

"Come, let's go shopping then-- and do remember: any inkling I get that you are dressing me in poor fashions, my temper will be lost and you will suffer for it. As I said, Elora, you are replaceable. If you value your life, you will respect me. Quite simple, is it not? Even for your... sad little human brain, as you so delicately -and accurately- put it."
 
If Chaol had been wanting to place space between the two, to place and spread the seed of doubt that he was a good person. Or even half of a decent person. To make her believe and understand she was not safe. That, as he had put it, is not a friend or chum of Chaol. That he had very little need for her, or that he enjoyed her company in the slightest of bits, then he had succeeded.

With a single notion, a single mention that she was replaceable. He made it impossibly clear just where the two stood.

Honestly though, just what was she expecting? She quite literally only knew him for less the 24 hours. Perhaps they had shared a few laughs, a few playful words, but she knew barely anything of him other this his quick temperament. She knew of the god complex he exserted, the self-righteous in getting everything he asked for. Deserved or not.

Perhaps it was the lack of friendship she had in that town. Or maybe it was her grief, her broken heart reaching for the inkling of some sort of companionship. It was clear though, no through Chaols harsh words that she would not find it there. Not with him.

Even worse, everything he said was true. He could easily find some woman. Could find someone with more respect, more fear, to teach him this new world. Someone far more adequate than her.


The smile that had been teasing her lips quickly vanished at his words. The light dimmed in her eyes before leaving just as quickly as it came. Chaol would catch a glimpse of shock, followed by disappointment. Each emotion tinged with a bit of sadness before her face became more stoic.


Slowly her gaze dropped to his feet before trailing up his body. The woman looked him up and down, judging him. It was evident from the slow look that her mood had incredibly soured. Eyes cold, Elora turned off the friendly nature that had once been there.

It was evident that Chaol and Chaol alone had hurt her feelings.

Clenching her jaw Elora sharply turned her back to the vampire, not wishing to look at the man any longer than she had. "Your message has been reached loud and clear, Chaol."


As the vampire reiterate his threat to his human companion, he would find no response from the woman. No laugh, no playful retort of some teasing response fell from her lips. Instead, he would find steely blue eyes cast over a thin shoulder, the only indicator that she heard his words. In silence she opened the door to her home, allowing the vampire to walk out first. Pausing only to lock the door. With hurried footsteps she walked past the taller individual, heels crushing the gravel under her feet as she walked towards a black vehicle. "Horse and carriages are outdated. People use these to get around now. There are different types but they are commonly know as vehicles."


Once chipper words came out as a mer mummer, a shadow of what they had been the night before or even that morning. Elora did not indicate that she would explain more than what was being asked, only giving the bare basics of knowledge. Going to the passengers' door, she opened it for Chaol to climb in. "You have to use that strap. You just pull it across your chest and latch it on the other side."
 
Chaol knew he had a propensity to be cold and that if any warmth shone through that front, it was quickly and abruptly covered back up with that shroud of iciness, his ability to revert from the brief flash of positivity to the more characteristic stoic front being unparalleled.

But it didn't mean he couldn't be found lacking; that some emotions shone so strongly, were registered in him with such force, that they broke past the barriers he held high and remained staining his face for longer than he wanted them to be. Now was such a moment, with the shift in Elora's usual personality, the reversion to the sort of cold hatred that Chaol was fond of displaying, leaving the vampire genuinely... speechless.

He was never lacking for words, always holding an opinion on something or other and feeling very little reason to ever withhold his thoughts when he felt that they were always correct and inarguable... but this was a rare exception to that norm, with no words coming to rest on his tongue when the astonishment overrode everything else with ease.

And beyond that, beyond the surprise and confusion, was... guilt, another rare feeling that he scarcely had to contend with, but there was no denying its gnawing, all-consuming presence as he watched Elora's face register with hurt and disappointment. He didn't quite understand why she would be hurt by his remarks when they hardly differed from the threats he had sent her way since their initial meeting-- unless she had quietly come to believe that their teasing was emblematic of a potential closeness; a potential friendship.

Because that was what Chaol feared would be the case as he indulged the playfulness, which was precisely why he hurried to shut it down; why he had spoken so coldly to her without offering any warning for the shift in approach. It was for the best that they remain on these terms, existing as strangers within the home until a purpose had been fulfilled and they could return to their own lives away from one another - but it didn't make the aftermath of that decision any easier, especially when it became abundantly clear that this was a decision he had made without consulting her.

And her obvious hurt from his choice, her confusion at his abrupt iciness and cruelty, only made the vampire, so used to unfeeling and nonchalance, struggle to comprehend the surge of regret that rose like a wave within him.

But he pushed it aside.

It was better, safer, if Elora hated him than it was if she... came to like him.

Athanasias had died because of him, and he had to carry that guilt with him for decades.

It was best if no other woman came to follow that fate because of their association, their fondness, for the Lord.

As a result, his expression gradually reunited with its own steeliness as he strode forward to meet her at the car - though this time, at least the shock that fell onto his face was one he didn't feel he had to rid himself of when this was probably an emotion expected of him. With only the context of the strange vehicle being the modern version of the carriages he had known and loved during his day (with his disappointment at not being met with one palpable), he silently stared at the passenger seat, unsubtle in his hesitation as he spent a few additional seconds analysing it for any harm.

After all, he wouldn't put it past Elora to have hidden a cross or two somewhere now she had a justified reason to hurt him after he had so bluntly hurt her.

"I have no need for that strap. I assume it is for protection, should this bizarre carriage meet an abrupt stop-- but I am invulnerable. Should I go crashing through the glass, my wounds will heal immediately-- though perhaps that might cause some alarm if humans witnessed my miraculous recovery... No, I'll use the strap," he decided, mentally working through the pros and cons until reaching the conclusion that, to spare himself the headache of dealing with humans possibly witnessing him heal from injuries that ought to kill, it was just easier to do as Elora instructed.

Grimacing to himself at the sound of the seatbelt clicking into place, he adjusted himself uncomfortably in the car before resting his hands onto his knees, his posture needlessly formal as he darted a gaze out the window.

"...And you are this carriage's driver, are you? No, this is... absurd. Why on earth did horse-drawn carriages no longer suffice to you people? They were a perfectly good way of travelling."
 
Had Elora seen the shocked, stunned look on Chaols face towards her response…perhaps she would have felt worse for her reaction. Would have apologized and told him to ignore her.
Yet, she had not. She was hurt by how easily those words had dripped from his mouth. Hurt that she was reminded just how insignificant her life was, how little value it held to others. That he could just find someone to replace her and that Chaol knew they could do it better than she could.

Unfair to Chaol, Elora was also mad. Angry at no one other than herself for allowing her feelings to grow out of control. Surely she must had looked desperate if those few words had thrown her in such a tizzy. Elora wasn't even sure why she felt so strongly upset by his threat. It wasn't any different from the times he had threatened her life before. Hadn't been any different from how she had been treated since the night before. Yet for some reason, some stupid reason, he had stung her.

Stung her good.

Elora struggled to get herself under control. To rationalize her emotions. Scolded herself for being so childish.
She had no reason to be this way, she had no bond with the vampire.

No emotional connection.

Despite how she felt Elora was not about to stoop as low as Chaol thought of her. She wasn't about to splash him with holy water or spit the Lord's Prayer at him…though perhaps the latter would be a tad bit funny.

As Chaol tried to argue about the seatbelt, tried to say he did not need it—the argument only burned her annoyance with him deeper. However, perhaps luckily for Chaol, the man quickly deciphered it for himself. Claiming that it would be too much of a hassle if he got caught with instantly healing injuries—a good idea on his part.
"It's also against the law to ride in a car without a seatbelt. The last thing I need is for us to get pulled over."

Once Chaol was in the car, hearing the click of the seatbelt, Elora closed his door. Moving around the car she got in on her side, reaching back to drop her purse in the seats behind them.

"It was probably a good way of traveling, but cars can go much faster than horses. They also require less care. Many people no longer have room for those types of animals. We also have to travel further to get to and from shops."
Placing the car into the ignition, Elora turned it—the car roaring to life. Very faintly he would be able to hear people singing somewhere within the car. "Hopefully you don't have motion sickness."

Slowly the woman began to reverse the car, turning so she could travel down the horseshoe path that sat in front of the home. Once she was happy with her turn, Elora shifted gears and began to make her way down the hill with the slightest of ease, pulling out to the main road, one that was much different than the rock and dirt and had been accustomed to.
 
The impersonal manner of speech, so contrary to the light playfulness that had imbued her tone for much of their interactions, proceeded to cause that guilt to gnaw at Chaol; that sting of regret to grow until he felt its presence eating away at him. He didn't want to feel guilty for upsetting a human whose purpose to him was a necessary evil - he would dispose of her the moment she fulfilled her use because, like the way he viewed all of her kind, she was nothing more than an inconsequence who wasn't deserving of his attention; wasn't privileged to enjoy his presence outside of the duty he demanded she complete for him.

So why did he feel guilty despite justifying to himself that he should be glad to have hurt her? That seeing a human freeze up, visibly hurt by his actions and his words, was the natural order of things and in keeping with his personality. What wasn't in keeping with it was the guilt that sat like a leaded weight in his chest, dragging his mood into a place he didn't enjoy it residing at. As fond as he was of his moodiness, as comfortable as he found the silence that that solitude brought him, he couldn't enjoy it when he could feel Elora's presence at his side; sense her unhappiness, her hurt, more painfully with every passing second.

An apology resided on the tip of his tongue, an apology he rarely ever uttered out into the world. Athanasias naturally had received a few of them during the course of their time together, because she was the only human, the only person, who Chaol sought to comfort if he inadvertently hurt her. The only subject of the rare apology that the vampire refused to offer to anyone else.

Yet here he now was, preparing himself to utter one to Elora: a girl he had known for less than an entire day. It bewildered, perplexed, him that he had come to feel something for her in that time, certainly powerful enough for him to feel pained by the sight of her upset (made worse by knowing he was the cause), but denying that that wasn't the case bordered on delusional.

He couldn't ignore the guilt or how he longed to see her light return to her features; to hear the laughter in her voice as she poked fun at his obliviousness of the modern world around him. It had angered him initially, being the subject of her playful mockery, but now he realised, with it being torn from him, he... missed it.

He wanted that playfulness back, even if he would respond to it with a moody frown.

Because that moodiness wasn't... entirely truthful, keeping at bay the genuine enjoyment he found himself possessing as they shared those quips together, their personalities not clashing under those circumstances but rather... balancing the other out; coming together and allowing them each to shine.

And now it was gone because he had chosen to be cruel and deny himself a chance at... acquaintanceship. Friendship. Perhaps even, in time, a relati--

Chaol was quick to stop his mind venturing to that possibility, a visible shake of his head emerging as though he could physically throw the thought out of it.

And with it, the urge to apologise abandoned him, the vampire deciding that he couldn't expose himself to the vulnerability it would bring. No, as terrible as he felt, he was stubborn enough to refuse to do the thing that might patch everything up, focusing instead on charging forward and convincing himself that he didn't care what Elora felt or thought about him.

However untrue that might be.

"Hush, what is-- there are voices. I'm hearing voices," he muttered as he held a finger up to silence her, to prevent her from continuing her explanations, albeit not to be rude but simply to shut her train of thought down so he could focus on the faint voices-- singing? The noise alarmed him so much that he didn't pay too much attention to the speed of the car itself - his stomach lurched in response to the alien sensation but those voices distracted him from the faint unease, his brow furrowed as he peered behind him into the backseats as though in search of people whose presence could explain the racket in his head.

"This is-- alarming, Elora. Elora, I am hearing things, this is-- I am going quite mad, I am sure of it. There is singing in my head, a song I have not heard before-- all those years stuck in that infernal chest has driven me insane, I... I am not well, I demand you reverse this vehicle at once because I need rest, I need to-- to sleep. I need blood and sleep," he determined all at once, his thoughts frantic in growing fear-- which left his words to tumble hurriedly from his lips, his expression distressed as the singing, the voices, continued.

Naturally, he had no idea what a car radio was nor that it was the cause of his sudden concern.

"Can you not hear them? Are they in my head and my head alone? Because truly, Elora, if they are, I... I must rest, I cannot fall victim to my madness."
 
The prospect of the vampire feeling guilty for his actions, for feeling bad at hurting Elora's feelings, the notion never traversing the woman's mind. After all, he was the one who spoke them. He was the one that choose to be cruel to her. To let her know she was worthless, then she indeed did not matter.

The fact that he would actually regret it seemed…well it seemed impossible. To Elora, the vampire seemed unbothered as he sat beside her now, perhaps a little stiff due to the new environment he was in.

She could not sense the apology that sat on his lips, could not send the regret that flowed through his body. Painfully oblivious to his own discomfort.



Truthfully the woman wasn't sure how long she would be upset with the vampire, how upset she would be with herself. To so quickly believe that some friendship could have been formed when it was nothing more than a parasitic relationship, one that had been established as soon as she opened that horrible coffin of his. Frustratingly enough Elora did not understand her feelings well enough to digest what she felt. How could it be, that someone she had just met, someone she knew nothing about, feel like an old friend?

Why was she joking so easily with the man beside her? Why wasn't she scared—or as terrified as she should have been?



Jumbled thoughts were soon placed away as she explained why no one used horses anymore. A shallow explanation of what it could have been just moments ago. Then all at once, perhaps too soon, did Chaol hush her, putting a finger up and cutting her off. With her face going red, frustration brewing over, the woman cast a glance at the vampire. Ready to snap. Ready to ask who pissed in his cereal and made him so cranky that day.



However, all that frustration boiled down as she saw the scared look on his face. The frantic voice he held, explaining that he heard voices—worried, scared even that he was going mad.



And then…just like that, all her anger left. All the frustration and iciness the woman once held melting away to reveal a stunned, amused Elora.



Like an unspoken prayer, the woman's laughter began to fill the car. Over shadowing the music that had been ringing out. A deep belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes, forcing her to pull over to the emergency lane of the road. Stopping the car before she caused an accident.

For those precious moments, Elora found she couldn't speak. Could not settle herself long enough to explain to Chaol what was going on. That he was not mad, that she too could hear the music and it was normal.

Instead, he would find her hunched over the steering wheel, trying to calm her howling but failing miserably.



The moment she thought she held herself together, her laughter slowing, was completely shattered as she made the mistake of looking at Chaol. His terrified expression as he looked into the back seat, frantically searching for the person responsible for the sudden sound. The act sending her over the edge once again. Another laughing fit took over the woman, reaching a hand out to pat his arm—offering a small bit of comfort all the while trying to get him to stop.



"Stop, stop I'm trying to stay mad at you." Came the rasping voice of the woman beside her. "Oh, it hurts!" Wrapping an arm around her stomach the woman leaned back into her seat, tilting her head up as she gasped for air. Her laughing settling down into soft giggles.

"You aren't going crazy Chaol, I promise. I have the radio on. I'm sorry I should have turned it off after you got in." Turning her head she glanced at the man, her face red. Eyes sparkling once more, the warmth returning to her features again. "You are fine. Watch."



Removing her hand from his arm, Elora reached forward to the screen on the center of her dashboard. Pressing an arrow the music grew louder, allowing him to hear the voices and instruments more clearly. The sounds of drums could be heard along with a male voice singing about…sugar and pouring it on himself? Truthfully it sounded like a mess, more so when the man said he was already "hot and sticky sweet".



"You can flip through different stations to hear different songs. There is even some classical music we can listen to if you'd prefer that. I guess humans had to put it in the car because times rides can get a bit boring when you are by yourself. Though it's also good to help the driver stay updated on bad weather. Like if a severe storm is coming and what to expect."
 
It was staggering just how quickly his mood had once again shifted, albeit this time so extremely that he failed to disguise the physicalising of that shift. Rather than remain rigid with stoicism, with his face an unmoving mask of thinly veiled contempt for everything that entered his vicinity, Chaol sat back against the seat with a... smile, the corners of his lips pulled upwards in a rare show of genuineness.

He had often smirked in Elora's company, that particular expression lighting his features, but he had done so to mock and ridicule her; to derisively make fun of her expense or to delight in the misery and the fear his threats on her life had resulted in. But this smile was different: an altogether sincere expression that warmed the dark of his eyes, cut deep dimples into both cheeks, softened the harshness of his features.

In a word, it... brightened him, and though he wasn't entirely thrilled about showing that expression off nor welcoming the vulnerability that it provoked, Chaol wasn't able to fight it off when the sound of Elora's laughter filling the car, the joyousness in her expression that similarly lit her features as his smile did to his own, hit him too deeply for him to fight off its effects.

And a part of him, deep down and buried but present and fighting nonetheless, didn't want to reject his sincere enjoyment. For once, just once, he wanted to allow himself a moment of joy, particularly after he had caused hurt to someone who didn't deserve it. He might regret the action at a later date, curse himself for letting Elora in and building a memory with her that shone brightly in its sincerity and innocence, but for now, caught up in the moment itself, Chaol was powerless to resist it.

Powerless against the way it, in turn, made him feel.

Because for the first time in decades, he felt... happy.

Hopeful.

And though he didn't feel comfortable with how quickly the feeling had arisen when he had just met Elora, when threats against her life still rung loudly in his head (as they undoubtedly did in her own), how could he deny what was this obvious?

"Are you mocking me, Elora? Laughing at the expense of a man bewildered by this new world? You are supposed to metaphorically take me by the hand and lead me through the fog of confusion; not leave me stranded within it, laughing in the distance as I struggle against it all. Really, you are a horrid teacher, giggling at your own student like this," tutted Chaol as though disapproving of her reaction, his head shaking to emphasise that fact-- though it wasn't a fact at all because contrary to everything that had been known of the vampire thus far, he wasn't angered by her reaction. There was no disgust at her mockery, no anger at her derision.

Even if he had reacted violently against her for laughing at much less, Chaol's smile remained fixed in place as he allowed his amusement, his ability to laugh at himself, to be witnessed. It dented his position of superiority by sharing in on the joke and laughing at his idiocy alongside her, but when he was so caught up in the moment, so... endeared by the twinkle in Elora's eyes, Chaol didn't care.

He would work on rebuilding his superiority later on, but right now, he threw all caution to the wind and decided to let loose and be present in the memory.

To enjoy Elora's presence, rather than continually shield himself from it.

"...The radio... it is rather interesting. I suppose carriage journeys would be made more enjoyable if I could enjoy a string quartet along the way..." He mused as he diverted his attention to the technology in question. As fond as he might have been of simply staring over at Elora, drinking in how rosy her cheeks had become from her laughter and admiring the curve of her jawline as she tilted her head back to giggle further at his expense, it was probably wise to try and pay a little attention to the lessons being taught.

That was the whole point of Elora's presence in his life after all.

...And he wanted it to remain that way, even if it was becoming more difficult to fight off the admiration of her beauty, the attractiveness of her voice, the gracefulness of her body--

Tearing himself of those thoughts before they could linger, he darted a glance over at her with the same smile resting comfortably on his lips.

"I didn't cover myself in glory back there, did I? Made myself look like quite the fool, so... I can't blame you for laughing. It... is rather humorous, I suppose. I would laugh raucously if the situations were reversed."
 
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