Snack

Snack - IkeVamp!Theodorus van Gogh X Reader

~Snack~

*IkeVamp! Theodorus van Gogh X Reader*

It was long past midnight and the whole mansion was eerily quiet, as in fact it should have been in any other residence at such an hour. The fact that vampires do slept at night and not lived a fully fruitfull life during the darkest hours came as a surprise and it was to blame onto the novels which pictured them as nocturnal creatures for the rumour of sun burning their too pale and sensitive skins - but that was so wrong and not a funded fact.

Perhaps Arthur was still up, writing the night away his mystery ongoing series - but then again, he could as well write her into an embarassing short lived story.

Mozart's lullaby like song filled somewhat the stilness of the night, but the flowing notes were so soft they were barely audible to count as a distraction from sleeping - and they were rather repose inducing.

Napoleon was surely fast asleep by now and given the fact he was a heavy sleeper, nothing in the world could wake him up from his provisional slumber - and it wasn't a great idea to deal with the tip of his sword pressed against her too fragile neck.

Vincent often painted during the day, being mostly inspired by sunshine and flowery whiff, but that didn't give a reassurance he was asleep by now.

The female's stomach grumbled in protest, announcing that the tiny beast which resided there needed to be fed, even with the clock's limbs parting dangerously far from the 12 pointed on them.

She threw the covers aside, the first feeling embracing her being the breezy, almost too winterish nip of cold air which floated like a grave cloud into her room.

Placing her night robe over her too thin nightgown, she opened with care the door to her room which headed straight into the long hallway and was the intersecting point between all the rooms available for all the living residents - if one could call that so.

Small steps could be heard into the large hallway, sounding familliarly like the pitter patter of the rain upon roofs or onto cold marble balcony floors, but they faded into the hush of the late hours, as even the breeze hitting the drapes was louder than they were.

Somehow her feet guided her there unconsciously and she was now faced with a large, too tall wooden door. Pressing her lips together until they were white from being blood deprived, she released the burdening breath which rippled the quiet hour, like a stone does to the surface of still water.

Bringing her tightened fist up, she hesitated to do as she pleased - but after several failed attempts, she finally gathered the courage and knocked twice, so delicate and soft that a normal human couldn't have possibly heard such.

"Who is it?" the grumpy, drowsy laced voice behind the door questioned, announcing that in fact the knock didn't go unnoticed.

"It's me!" she responded in a hushed voice, trying to keep the conversation going between them two private and not vociferous in the slightest.

A prolonged silence followed, but it was short lived, as the creaking of the bed announced the male at least shifted from his resting position, a heavy sigh following suit.

The whoosh of the air being hit with something resumed - probably an item of clothing from the sound of it - and pressed bare feet could be heard coming omniously close to the door separating the two.

"What is it, Hondje?" the brown haired male demanded, though his voice sounded a lot tranquil than it usually was - maybe given the hour, she made a mentally note.

When her head bobbed up, (e/c) eyes were met with a halfway buttoned stripped pajama shirt, rippled muscles proudly peeking their way out of the fabric, the smoothness of untarnishied sun skin making her pulse quicken for some reason.