There are certain known facts about vampires. They revile change. They are obsessive-compulsive. They are illogical. They are cursed. They will burst into flames in sunlight.
They are dying.
With less than a hundred vampires left in the world, Yas...
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Augustine, I'm highly disappointed with your behavior of late. Answer your phone.
Redbud
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Feldick had half a foot out of the guest room, his expression frantic, but it cleared when he saw Breeze coming up the stairs. "She's awake." He said, with the tone of someone who might have also "she's dead."
Though he told himself he'd be calm, Breeze's heart jumped into his throat. Nodding this thanks, he ducked around the other fairy and strode into the guest room, expecting to be assaulted by disaster.
It was worse than he'd expected.
Though the estate was shaped like a cottage, it was far larger than the Cage. Twelve bedrooms, a dining room, a banquet hall (home of Libby's mural), several living rooms, and no less than eight restrooms and baths. Unlike the first floor, the second floor was not so heavily devoted to themes. The colors and decor were modern, angled more towards comfort than receiving a court (perhaps why Libby left the area mostly unmolested). Neither floor, however, was suitable for Yasuko's palate.
So he'd improvised. Heavily.
Breeze had unloaded everything they'd brought with them from the Cage, determined to make the guest room as alike to her bedroom as possible. Not the 'home' she'd asked for, crying into his shoulder, but it must have passed muster, because she wasn't running. A good sign.
