Fabien remained where they had left him, his fingertips pressed against the delicious sting of torn flesh. He could still taste the vampire’s mouth on his lips, still feel the cold press of his hands through his clothes. The thought that he should now be denied him for so long was almost unbearable.
He took a few steps, pacing to and fro like a wild animal as he contemplated where he should go, what he should do. How indeed, would he keep time without waiting eagerly for the vampire to return? How could he bear passing several nights without the flutter of excitement rising in his throat at the sound of his voice?
Now he was truly alone, unfettered and free to do as he wished. He toyed with the idea of vacating the house to stalk the streets. He pictured his hands on the door, unlatching and pushing the heavy weight aside until he could feel the cold night air on his skin. There had been a time when he had longed for it, a simple path to freedom, and now it was his for the taking. But then there were thoughts of who he might encounter, hollowed out eyes and mouths pinched with starvation. Skeletal hands reaching for him, pleading, and at once the boy shrank back and stepped instead into his comforting and familiar dark.
He turned aside and wandered purposelessly, and quite without thought his feline curiosity led him to the now empty chamber once occupied by Fakhir and Lacrima. Here he lingered for a time, heavy of heart as he breathed in the scent of smoke and magic that had once filled the air. How he would miss the sound of their voices, the absence of which made the silence a living, breathing thing.
The urchin at last pushed aside his unhappiness. He stowed away his gifts somewhere secret in the kitchen, though was unable to resist tearing away a corner of her bread to taste on his tongue. Then he sought out the company of his friend, his source of light. Colombe was subjected to much begging and pleading, until she was all but forced to forgo her work in favour of some well deserved recreation. The realisation sunk in slowly, that they were truly free to enjoy their time from under the shadow of immortal creatures with murderous intent. That they could spend this moment, this gasp of their lives, eating food and tasting sweet wine and laughing until their ribs were sore.
The girl attempted to teach the urchin innocent parlour games, which in turn led to a bout of ferocious gambling which resulted in the loser forfeiting an entire stash of sugared fruit. Fabien, evidently disappointed at being bested at his own game, managed to swallow his pride and accept defeat with grace. But the boy was insatiable in his desire for distraction. He possessed a relentless energy that few could match, and finally pushed his friend to the point of exhaustion. When the night was all but spent, Colombe left him, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy with sleep and the urchin was abandoned once more to the quiet.
He took to prowling the empty house, his lips reddened from a bottle of wine that had become his new crutch. The first breath of dawn blessed him with enough light to see by, and allowed the boy to wander freely without the aid of a lantern. He pried into rooms, the courtyard, the few places where he thought his wolf might be lurking.
Eventually he appeared at the library door, little more than an angular shadow ast first, all loose limbs and heavy, sighing breath. He leaned his weight against the doorframe, and there came the sound of wine sloshing against glass as he brought the bottle back to his lips. He was the nauseating picture of revelry, his shirt loose at his throat and his skin flush from good food and drink. He turned his head, and his features were fittingly half in shadow and half in light. His finely shaped eyes moved around the room with lazy, desirous interest as he sought Émile.
He took a few steps, pacing to and fro like a wild animal as he contemplated where he should go, what he should do. How indeed, would he keep time without waiting eagerly for the vampire to return? How could he bear passing several nights without the flutter of excitement rising in his throat at the sound of his voice?
Now he was truly alone, unfettered and free to do as he wished. He toyed with the idea of vacating the house to stalk the streets. He pictured his hands on the door, unlatching and pushing the heavy weight aside until he could feel the cold night air on his skin. There had been a time when he had longed for it, a simple path to freedom, and now it was his for the taking. But then there were thoughts of who he might encounter, hollowed out eyes and mouths pinched with starvation. Skeletal hands reaching for him, pleading, and at once the boy shrank back and stepped instead into his comforting and familiar dark.
He turned aside and wandered purposelessly, and quite without thought his feline curiosity led him to the now empty chamber once occupied by Fakhir and Lacrima. Here he lingered for a time, heavy of heart as he breathed in the scent of smoke and magic that had once filled the air. How he would miss the sound of their voices, the absence of which made the silence a living, breathing thing.
The urchin at last pushed aside his unhappiness. He stowed away his gifts somewhere secret in the kitchen, though was unable to resist tearing away a corner of her bread to taste on his tongue. Then he sought out the company of his friend, his source of light. Colombe was subjected to much begging and pleading, until she was all but forced to forgo her work in favour of some well deserved recreation. The realisation sunk in slowly, that they were truly free to enjoy their time from under the shadow of immortal creatures with murderous intent. That they could spend this moment, this gasp of their lives, eating food and tasting sweet wine and laughing until their ribs were sore.
The girl attempted to teach the urchin innocent parlour games, which in turn led to a bout of ferocious gambling which resulted in the loser forfeiting an entire stash of sugared fruit. Fabien, evidently disappointed at being bested at his own game, managed to swallow his pride and accept defeat with grace. But the boy was insatiable in his desire for distraction. He possessed a relentless energy that few could match, and finally pushed his friend to the point of exhaustion. When the night was all but spent, Colombe left him, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy with sleep and the urchin was abandoned once more to the quiet.
He took to prowling the empty house, his lips reddened from a bottle of wine that had become his new crutch. The first breath of dawn blessed him with enough light to see by, and allowed the boy to wander freely without the aid of a lantern. He pried into rooms, the courtyard, the few places where he thought his wolf might be lurking.
Eventually he appeared at the library door, little more than an angular shadow ast first, all loose limbs and heavy, sighing breath. He leaned his weight against the doorframe, and there came the sound of wine sloshing against glass as he brought the bottle back to his lips. He was the nauseating picture of revelry, his shirt loose at his throat and his skin flush from good food and drink. He turned his head, and his features were fittingly half in shadow and half in light. His finely shaped eyes moved around the room with lazy, desirous interest as he sought Émile.