Object of Desire

Chapter Eleven : Vampires

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Sat before me was a small bowl of French onion soup, the rind of a fresh piece of pumpkin bread, and a glass of water. More like a goblet actually, the glass just as ornate as any piece of cutlery that they had here in the Ministry. Ornamented designs were blown into the milky violet glass, swirling and spinning in different directions in their damask patterns. The half eaten bowl of soup was about the same, however more opaque and ceramic compared to the glass counterparts, but the same designs regardless. If the dishware was meant to represent their quality of cooking, then they hit the mark completely and repeatedly.

Everything was just right. The soup was warm, but not too hot, and perfectly seasoned. Enough spice, perfectly caramelized onions and sweetly nutty Swiss cheese to have me craving another serving. The pumpkin bread was also to kill for, so moist and sweet, the perfect balance between soup to bread ratio. And of course, even the water was perfect. Crisp, cold, and hardly any metallic taste, helping me wash down the last few sips of soup and crumbs of bread. My more human hunger had gone unnoticed until now; when it was finally satiated and my stomach full. Swiss on the other hand had just sat down with his third serving, going as far to offer me more to which I had to deny.

"No thank you," I stuck my hands up, "I'm so full."

"What? You're kidding." He took his bread back, biting down on the corner and ripping off a large piece. "You've barely had anything." He spoke between chews, wiping the sides of his mouth a napkin.

"It was very filling, I haven't eaten that well in some time." I sheepishly admitted, gathering my items together and cleaning any mess I made.

"Well," he took another bite, "there's always more if you change your mind. And!" He half shouted. "We're having pasta tonight."

"What kind?"

"Tomato pesto something, it's supposed to be really good." Swiss nodded as he went in for his next sip of soup.

"Sounds good enough." I agreed, my eyes falling onto the group from earlier who had continued to look back at me and stare.

I had feeling I was to be somewhat of a spectacle, an odd one out for sure, but I wasn't anticipating this many eyes on me. They were mostly curious, possibly connecting the dots as to who I was and why I was here, but there was always a sense of judgement behind their wonder. Their attire may have played a factor, clad in habits and shielding most of their appearances behind a veil. It was only ten or so years ago that I had very similar experiences, the nuns of my fathers church constantly talking down to me and judging for something I couldn't control. It wasn't my fault I was born in sin, and they should have been happy that I was baptized- yet I could never get in their good graces. Even now, I still held the same unease I did at fifteen. That, and I felt severely underdressed.

Trying to be as respectful as possible, I wore a long black skirt with tights underneath, an oversized black knit sweater with another t-shirt beneath that, and I had even pushed my hair back with a head band. But compared to the false nuns, I was more than immodest. Swiss caught my cautious glances, turning back and looking at the group before they all quietly gasped, looking away and pretending to converse. He turned again, a partial pitiful smile on his hidden face.

"Don't pay them any mind, they just haven't got to know you yet." He tried to ease my nerves.

"It's not really them," I lied, "I just feel a bit underdressed. Everyone here is in such... religious attire?"