Fireflies in Moonlight [boyxboy]

Chapter V

~Wednesday 23rd July 1692~           -Rammone-

Some praised the eternal night. An existence without fatigue, without breathlessness or exhaustion. Some regarded that as the highest blessing of their turning. Rammone understood why humans, why newborns, saw such pleasure in escaping the confines of their mortality. Half of their previous lives were spent sleeping, ruled by the limits of their bodies. Vampires had no problem. With their healing at such a swift rate, there was rarely a moment of tire in their lives. Rammone understood the excitement in the early days. Growing older, however, spending thousands of years unable to rest, it grew to be more of an inconvenience than anything else.

Rammone had little purpose in his life, perhaps that was why the long days he endured felt like more punishment than reward. He avoided his mother whenever he could, casting aside what duties he might have been given as the crown prince. There were few hobbies that interested him and the isolation he had carved out for himself meant few people to spend the hours confined inside with. Reading was Rammone's only option. He had accumulated quite the library in his home, converting one of the four guest rooms into a secluded cove to sit with his books and read from sunrise to set.

For a time, that had been enough. Hours could be spent on one book, with Rammone sitting there beside the fire, still as stone. It had been an age since Rammone felt the urge for something more. Picking up a book didn't have the same feel anymore. Escaping into those worlds hidden beneath the covers required so much more energy. There were little that Rammone hadn't experienced before, little that weren't reruns of the same tale. Rammone was growing bored in his own company - not that he would dare to admit as such.

Instead, he would suffer in his silence. Holed away in his library, words illuminated by firelight, tepid skin warmed by the glow of the flames; Rammone ignored his discomfort. Sunset was close to passing and, beyond that, Rammone could roam the grounds freely. Perhaps a walk might refresh his mind, clear the fog of unhappiness that had become so much denser in the past months. Rammone supposed it wasn't a surprise, his current state. Five thousand years alone hardly bred sanity within a being.

And, yet, Rammone wasn't craving the skin of another against his own. Nor had he ever before. He had witnessed the strength of his parent's relationship, the love they shared with one another. Rammone had never yearned for that. Isolation was best. Seclusion bred his comfort. Having to care for another, to consider their happiness, to be vulnerable; Rammone resented the idea. He was stronger alone. Joy had never been a particular goal, he had survived this long without it; whatever Rammone was aching for, it would pass.

Turning the final page of his current book, Rammone's gaze skimmed across the page. To prevent rushing through his books, Rammone purposefully read slower, taking his time to absorb every word. Ending swerve difficult though. Rammone felt the urge to finish the book swiftly, to reach that quiet satisfaction of the final few words and the eventual closure of the narrative. That day was no different. Even as Rammone tried to slow himself, he skipped over words to rush the ending. And then the story was over. And then the book was closed. And Rammone was plunged back into the endless torment of his own eternity.

He rose from his armchair gracefully, returning the book to the one of the nearest shelves. Sometimes, if he was feeling up to it, he would select a new book ready for the next day. Rammone didn't feel up to it. He wandered over to the window instead, to the thick black drapes shielding him from harmful sunrays. With a gentle movement, Rammone glanced outside, finding no sun in the darkening blue above. Sunset had passed, and Rammone was thankful for that. He left the curtains closed regardless, leaving the library.

Amber light followed Rammone through his home, oil lamps already bright and burning. One of the maids must have been through to light them whilst Rammone was distracted. Perhaps he had fallen deeper into the book than he believed, he hadn't noted another presence in his home. Upon reaching the living room, Rammone realised that was definitely the case. With a man stretched out and lounging across one of the pristine cream chaise lounges, eyes closed and entirely unaware of the vampire watching him, Rammone decided he was certainly more invested in his book than he originally thought.