What Makes a Monster

♱Thirty-Four♱

Third Person P.O.V

Soran has always held a strong distaste of social gatherings for obvious reasons. From time to time, the lone vampire wonders if he would feel differently had he been human. Would he enjoy the pleasant strum of a harp that lulled couples into a fond dance? Would he laugh among friends over a glass of wine? Could he step into a room without garnering the negative attention of all? What was that like?

Such thoughts are often discarded in a mere second for Soran has learned he would never get the answers. But for some reason he could not discard them so easily today. As he listens to the music and tastes a dull red wine, his eyes wander to the blue-eyed butler waiting anxiously nearby. Wallie has always worked so hard to come across as confident and poised, but his eyes hold a certain sense of curiosity and wonder that can never be hidden. He peers about the room with practically every question in his mind etched into his features clear as day. Then when those eyes land on Soran, they brighten whether he realizes it or not and he smiles without delay. Not forced nor taught nor even out of respect or politeness, a simple reaction that Soran never receives from others without a sense of bitterness.

Wallie, however, has a smile that is never bitter, only appreciated.

And those thoughts of a fond dance to the pleasant strum of a harp, laughing among friends over a glass of wine and stepping into a room without a care, they linger and linger only this time there's one common factor to all. Wallie is the one dancing with Soran and Wallie is the one he laughs with and Wallie is the one waiting in that room with his beaming smile and soft blue eyes. And Wallie does not judge or glare or berate him. He's just there, waiting, a constant warmth.

Such thoughts are not like Wallie's smile though. They aren't appreciated because they are bitter since they are untrue. A future that will never be so Soran downs another glass of wine that is as dull as everything else. He sits among enemies waiting for the night to end yet he continues to glance at Wallie whenever he feels like it's too much. Seeing him eases the tension in Soran's shoulders, even if it's only for a moment. But that tension multiplies tenfold when Soran's gaze meets with Rufus' across the room. When the king smiles, Soran knows what is to come. He sighs heavily.

"Lord Makai, I am so happy you could make it," says Rufus when he takes a seat that was quickly emptied for him. The aristocrats that were previously pestering Soran scattered like roaches to allow the two some privacy.

King Rufus Baylor is a man made for politics. Every personality trait has practically been crafted since birth to make the beast. Each word is placed just so to ensure the reaction Rufus wishes. Every smile is adjusted and passed for a purpose, but that charismatic facade has never, and will never, fool Soran. And Rufus doesn't try all that hard with the vampire anyway, only to keep face among others.

"I am sure you are. There's nothing like a common enemy to bring everyone together," Soran responds with a narrowed glare.

"Come now, that is simply history. It was in no way a direct attack. Relax a little."

"I have been trying to relax for over a thousand years, but there is a family that loves to pester and will never allow such a luxury. Perhaps you could do something about that, Your Majesty."

Rufus snickers. He surveys the room, smiling at guests when they happen to catch his eye. After a quick drink, the king says, "It is always the most fun speaking with you, Soran. Refreshing really; to hear someone's unfiltered thoughts, but I did stop in hopes to thank you for your cooperation as of late."

Soran grinds his teeth. Rufus could have stated as such in a letter. He forced Soran to come because he loves to be a pain in the ass, because he loves to watch Soran be surrounded by those that want him dead. Although immortality is his, it has yet to take away the frustration that comes with being the most hated man in the room.