Vampire Residence

XV

London, 1836.

The bakery was a quaint spot, a relic of the bygone era where it found its home. The faint scent of sugar and flour wafted through the air, tinged with the occasional bitter tang of burned sugar. Morgana ran it with her family, with her mother doing the baking and her father dealing with the finances. The routine in the bakery was set, and every morning it opened and every night it closed.

One evening, as the first light of the moon crept through the narrow windows of the bakery, the soft ring of the bell over the door signaled a late-night customer's arrival.

Daciana- as Eleanor wouldn't have learned until months after meeting her back in 1347- stood in the doorway, her eyes flicking over the wares scattered on the display countertop, but she seemed... uninterested, unfocused. She took a step forward, her cloak still open, dragging softly along the floor. The pale light of the moon washed over her in waves, causing her to appear almost translucent for a brief moment.

Morgana's eyes followed the stranger's movements, her interest piqued. It was rare to find a customer this late, let alone one who seemed so detached. She'd seen this particular one many times over the past few weeks... though she'd never spoken; had never bought anything from the shop. As the woman stepped up to the display, Morgana found her curiosity overcoming her usual reserve and broke the silence.

"Anything catching your eye?" she called out gently. Her voice echoed softly through the mostly empty store, the hush in the bakery only broken by the faint hum of nocturnal life outside.

The woman- Daciana, though Morgana had no way of knowing- seemed to come out of whatever reverie had held her, blinking once, twice, before turning to face her. Her expression was guarded by a thin veil over a deeper, more troubled interior.

When she spoke, her voice was soft but there was a strange quality to it- as if she were lost in some kind of dream state, or half-asleep. "Nothing, really," she replied. Her gaze traveled over Morgana, taking in the weariness in her eyes, the tight lines of her face. "Just... browsing."

For a moment, Morgana scrutinized the woman, wondering if she'd come in simply as a distraction, a way to escape something else outside of the bakery's doors. Her eyes darted around the shop, noting that other than the two of them, the bakery was empty. The silence stretched, filled only by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock that stood against the back wall.

Morgana broke it again. "You come here often," she stated, her tone neither accusing nor suspicious but simply... acknowledging.

The observation seemed to catch the woman off guard. For a brief moment, her facade wavered, the mask of apathy slipping to reveal a hint of surprise beneath. Then, just as quickly, it was back in place, the woman's expression once again betraying nothing as she turned back to look at the display of pastries.

"Is that unusual?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral. It was not a question, not really.

"Quite," Morgana admitted. She made her way toward the woman, closing the distance between them. Her footsteps were soft, the sound barely more than a whisper on the wooden floorboards. She stopped just a few paces away from the stranger.

"Most people who come in at this time of night are regulars," she said, a hint of curiosity creeping into her voice. "And none of them ever 'just browse'."

The woman let out a soft, humorless chuckle. The sound held a bitter tinge of irony. "Perhaps I find solitude in the stillness of the night," she answered, her eyes still fixed on the pastries though it was clear her mind was elsewhere.

"Or perhaps I simply don't sleep." The words hung in the air heavily, revealing more than she perhaps meant to.

That statement drew Morgana's brow into a subtle frown. The woman... *couldn't* sleep? An unsettling thought. As she opened her mouth to continue her inquiry, the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted her, a deep, gruff voice calling out from the back room.