Dancing with Fate

[Rosier Moore]

A few, is all she said. Oh how he wished she had said a number; but at least he knew there was more than one. It meant he had to really keep an eye out. Sample blood before he tasted it, to keep his wits about him.

Truly he would have to be careful now, with monsters lurking about. Especially when they did not look like monsters; just as Veranda did not.

And then, the woman looked at him with a slightly confused look (or so it seemed to him, as much as he could see). He gulped down a small lump in his throat. That did not seem at all good.

He scratched at the nape of his neck, wondering how to respond.

"You're a smart woman," he responded, smiling slightly. But one of those awkward smiles, as if he did not know what to say. "I would rather not take the chance of you catching up to me and running me down. Besides, it is rude to run off on a lady, especially when you are asking her questions."

Perhaps he should run away. He did not want to be there anymore. But now his fear had turned into a little less fear, and a little more curiosity. Interest. And the more he saw that she was more human than monster, the less he was afraid.

Surely he would still shake in his shoes if she were to touch him again. But he no longer felt as threatened.

[Veranda Kingsford]

Veranda smiled, finding Rosier’s response amusing. She supposed she could catch him. She was fast, and he may still have a fuzzy head. Besides, she seemed to have caught enough of his interest for him to stay, judging by his questions and the second part of his answer. He was scared but curious. It wasn’t too surprising. Since he was so afraid of vampires, he probably didn’t know much about them outside of what he knew of himself. Actually speaking to one was undoubtedly a rare occurrence in his life.

“Oh, I’m not that much of a lady. I hadn’t lived the noble life for very long,” she laughed. “But I appreciate you trying not to be rude.” She looked over at Maro, watching the hellhound continued to tear at the heart, lapping up at the blood, messily chomping on bits and pieces. His appetite had been growing ever since she switched him to solid food from just blood. Probably due to his growing as well. It was hard to believe that not long ago she found a blind, wrinkled little pup who couldn’t even walk covered in his mother’s blood whining away in the middle of nowhere. Veranda never owned a dog before, but she was certain that Maro was growing a lot faster than your average dog or wolf. If he continued to grow up at this rate she anticipated he’d be fully grown within a few months. Though she had no idea what a hellhound’s fully grown form looked like or how big they got.

“Well Rose, I think I’ll cut you a break,” Veranda said, walking over to her pet and sitting down, ignoring the possessive little growl that Maro gave her. “If you want to run, you may. I won’t chase you down. I won’t hurt you.”

[Rosier Moore]

He had to wonder to himself how he could be so polite in the face of death itself. Perhaps it was her essence. After all, she said she used to be a noble. That sort of thing always stuck with you, even when you tried to get rid of it.

His eyes wandered to the hellhound as well, watching the mutt rip the heart apart. It was amusing. He rarely saw anything eating the remains of a being. Only himself. Perhaps this was another reason he considered vampires more creature than being.

His eyes shot up to Veranda herself, going slightly wide as she spoke. It was as if angels had answered his prayers; he could leave, she would not chase him. Relief slowly washed over him.

For some reason, he believed her.

Rosier's body began to shake again, both out of fear and joy.
"Then I thank you for your time, madam," he said, bowing slightly. Then, with just one last glance at the hellhound and its master, he turned and jumped carefully down onto the alleyway floor. Now that he had his wits, he did not hurt himself.

At first it was a normal walk down the alleyway. But it became faster and faster, as he left the vampire behind. And as soon as he felt he was far enough away, far from harms reach, he stopped.

Rosier dropped to the ground, head in his hands, and wept.