The First Beast (Vampire Verse..All Ships)

Chapter 3 - The Letters

//*gives the audiance a tired thumbs up*...I...did it....I finished...it was tiring..and hurt like fuck....enjoy...*face plants the floor* zzzzzzz//

Encre woke with a jolt, his heart banging against his chest. He pats himself down, checking for any wounds, and letting out a breath of relief when he saw that there wasn't any. It was but a simple nightmare his mind had made up from his memories; his scars. Scars. That was a word that the French artist had gotten used to. Scars in the morning; scars in the noon; scars in his head; scars in his conversations. Slowly rising from his bed, Encre threw off his nightgown, shivering from his bones being exposed to the cold air of his bedroom. He then goes threw his small wardrobe, and picks out his work shirt. It was just a simple white button up, with occasional pain splotches here and there; it was also what he wore for work as the Village painter.
After getting dressed he walked downstairs to the art room or otherwise known has Atelier De Peinture Et Halerie D'art.
Encre wasn't a famous painter anymore like he was in france, but he was still very talented for his age. Truth be told the old reason he wasn't as famous anymore was because he spoke no english. None. Not even a hint. He prefers it that way, no matter how much it can be a pain to try and speak to his customers.

His best friend Rufous says it's just because he is stubborn to the core.

Encre couldn't really argue with that.
Rufous was the only other monster in town who spoke french Encre, so he was the only real person he could talk to. It was funny too, because they were almost complete opposites, with Encre's gentlemen like nature and Rufous's bad mouth country talk.

Rufous's brother was fluent in the languages well, but he beat his own brother and hated everyone, so Encre and him have never held a decent conversation.

Although, speaking the same language wasn't the only reason they were so close. They had actually on the battlefield, where Rufous had saved Encre from dying after he was shot.

Sadley...they were one of the only ones left from their troop.

Taking his apron down from his coat hanger, Encre walked over to his newest portrait, which was ordered from a baker's son. The man had recently had a new born baby girl, and in celebration of her birth, he wanted a portrait of her. I smiled at the thought. It was nice when happy thoughts made of sunshine could clear away the clouds of depression and nightmares.
Bringing his paintbrush up to the portrait, Encre begins to touch in some dabs of blue on the babys eyes. Now some of his customers find it strange that Encre doesn't need the monster to pose in order to do some paintings; but when it came to people like monters or humans, Encre had perfect memory.

Especially with babies.

Who doesn't love babies?

Encre loves babies...
All squishy and fat faced and innocent.

Just as Encre was about to finish the left eye, the door to his shop slams open, scaring the focused artist so much that he slips up and dies the black pupil with a blue streak. The person who had bursted in, was none other than his good...good friend Rufous.

"ENCRE, YOU WON'T BELIEVE IT!!"

Now Encre is a normally calm person, matter of factly, he hardley ever gets mad. He is mostly depressed all the time, but never angry. If anyone did somehow manage to even make him pissed off, then you can bet that that person ment a whole lot to Encre.
However, there was just this one tiny thing that ticked the artist off....and it just so happens to he messing up on a good painting.
After carefully setting down his paintbrush, and breathing in and out slowly, Encre stood up and walked up to his friend as he talked his head off in English. (Encre had no idea what he was saying).
Encre really did try to hold in his anger, he really did, but he could tell that he must have looked absolutely pissed after Rufous took one look at him and immediately shut up.

"Uh Asseyez-vous ... bordel ... Et le français s'il vous plait."

Muttering an apology, Rufous sits down at Encres hand crafted dark wood table that he made himself.

"Maintenant vous pouvez parler," Encre told him with a dark smile, as he let his friend finally speak.

Rufous however just shook his head, and reached his hand across the table. He appeared to he hold something; a letter to be specific. At first, Encre thought nothing of it, seeing as he got letters all the time. That is until, he saw the royal family's Crest stamped on the letter with wax.
With a look of utter shock and confusion on his face, the artist gently took the letter from Rufous's hand and examined it.
"J'en ai un aussi," Rufous declared.

Opening the letter carefully, Encre could practically feel his hands shaking. Questions were running through his head.
What did they want?
Was he in trouble?
Why him?
And why did Rufous get one too?

Taking the folded pieace of paper out, Encre skimmed through it carefully.

[Dear Mr Peindre,

The royal family of the monster kingdom are aware of you being one of the last living veterans of your troop from the war, and would like for you to personally come to the palace on November 30th. The king himself wishes to have a word with you and your comrade, Rufous Est Tombée, over some tea. Please and thank you.

                      Sincerely,
                          Eterna]

Encre had no idea what the fuck the letter said.
Rolling his eyes, Rufous took the letter from him and translated it.
However, this left the stary eyed skeleton feeling even more terrified.

The king wanted the two of them to discuss war related issues, that much was obvious.
Why? He had no clue.
Looking at the date once again, he realized that today was the 29th of November. So they were to meet the king tomorrow.
With a sigh, the artist put the letter down on the desk and nodded, "Allons-y."