Vasu watched the people wandering the now active streets for a moment, watching them breathe, their hearts beating, blood flowing to bring strength to their living muscles. Strings of flesh and sinew that left him wondering how it was that his own body still worked. There was nothing supplying fuel to those muscles, save the regular consumption of blood that he sought out each time his stability began to grow weak. Was it this blood that gave their bodies a mockery of life? Or did the blood just help them sustain the esthetic beauty that the living yearned for? Whatever it was, they were still here, even after death.
He didn’t need to be told again how lucky he was to have been granted this gift, how grateful he should be to his maker for sparing him his immortal life, ridding him of the mortal shell that was once so constricting. But, there were times he hated it. He resented having to flee to the shadows, although he had rid himself of that nuisance, but to be able to enjoy the taste of a good meal, the warmth of living skin, the feel of moisture that can only come from a casual breath. All of these things were taken from him. You must lose to gain, he supposed.
Lactys, obviously, was also trying to defy the binds of the night. What vampire didn’t try at least once? The small number was the group that succeeded, through sheer perseverance and structure, building strength with strength, over and over. It took so much effort just to be able to enjoy the sunrise, and even now he still felt the effects it had on him. He was weakened, and the want of sleep nagged at the back of his mind, whispering to him to just lie down in some secluded spot and shut his eyes. That had been the hardest thing to overcome. Because of it, he didn’t often spend days awake; more likely, Vasu would be sleeping right now.
He turned back to Lactys, removing his gaze from the people making their way through the streets, calling to children with a mother’s wariness or persuading a passer-by with soothing, tempting words. He was aware of the sounds, but paid little attention to them after a few curious moments, instead listening to Lactys’ reply of, ‘Not often, no.’ He nodded, his hair falling forward and then resuming its natural position. So, she wasn’t from Adela. Lucky for him he’d chosen this day to stay up, wasn’t it?
Vasu watched as she tried to face the general direction of the mortals in the streets, blinded by her eyes’ inferiority to the sun and the black cloth she used to protect them. He couldn’t help but think how annoying it must be, smiling as she shot his own question back at him, facing his general direction, even if she had no way of being quite so accurate. Obviously, she didn’t have the x-ray vision he’d pondered before.
“Not often. Usually, I’d be somewhere sleeping by this time,� he answered.
Vasu leaned back against the fountain, his feet moving to accommodate his new position. Once again he considered the strength of the sun and resented it for a moment. He hated it for being so stubborn. Couldn’t it just let them be, let them walk freely beneath it? They hadn’t chosen to become stalkers of the night, at least he hadn’t. What made it this way? He always wanted the answers. He needed to know before he could be content with the way this worked, in all of its inequality. Perhaps, though, there was something, or someone, who resented them for their immortality and prowess with the dark. Perhaps.
He turned to look at Lactys, watching her features, the ones he could see, anyway. Even if he couldn’t see her eyes, he thought she looked as though she were thinking, pondering some questions of her own, but Vasu couldn’t be sure. Instead, he spoke, looking out at the horizon he could see above the clearing around the fountain.
“You don’t look like you’re in a hurry. What were you planning on doing, anyway?�