CONFESSIONS OF A VAMPIRE PRIEST

At the coffee shop

We took a break at the coffee shop. Mar's eyes were distant, her human glow replaced by a mechanical stupor. The language her body spoke of was a deep longing, a yawning sorrow that flooded out of each artificial orifice like. She didn't speak. We gave her space, allowed her to grieve without the empathetic words that would only sour the situation further. You could care for a person and want what is best for them. You could offer them every remedy to any despair they have ever suffered. You could pluck the stars from the sky for them, but there are times when words have no value, no weight underneath the crushing circumstances of the world. Only actions persuade fate in any particular direction, and since we couldn't do anything to act on her behalf, we remained silent. I wanted to go back as soon as she told me, but the planar alignment was off. It was impossible to go back the way we did. I knew of another method, but as I was at the time I would be unable to handle it. 

So as Mar grieved in the background while we went about our business. I ordered a dark roast. something to warm my spiritual wellness after being in a place that reeked of death the entire time. While necromancy happened to be a hobby of mine, I never took pleasure in death. It wasn't something I reveled in. After placing my order, I returned to where the rest of us were sitting and decided to bathe in the silence. The cafe had no music, no musicians to inspire a certain mood. 

It left us feeling appropriately grim, a sharp contrast from the warm colors surrounding us. Even though we sat outside with the warm sun on our backs, our spirits felt cold. We had achieved the objective of the mission, and we had come to accept the cost, but entering back into our accustomed reality had left us feeling... somewhat traumatized...

The serving girl was Beatrice, a sultry and lightly tanned woman in her early twenties. Her mahogany-colored hair was twisted into a bun that was held together by various pins. Her eyes were the color of a cloudless day, crystal and clear but never too clear that any man or woman would be able to discern the history behind them. Our eyes lingered on each other; she wasn't dismayed at the yellow, catlike features of my eyes; she held me in curious regard, not so much in the way of romantic interest but as if I were of academic interest, like I belonged in display in pages of a notebook. It was the natural curiosity of her people, I suppose.

"Thank you," I said. 

"You're not from around here, are you?" but there was no hostility in her voice. "I can guess where you're from based on the clothes you wear," and she mused for a bit before she said, "But there are no cold and bitter winters here. You'd be doing yourself a favor to take a few layers off."

I saw the reflection in my coffee, the inhumanity in my own eyes, then turning to her I said, "It'd only be in my favor if it were in yours."

As she served everyone else's order, she said, "I'm not saying it would be in my favor, but I'm not saying I'm opposed to it."

"But it'll be cold without my clothes. How will I keep warm?"

She waved an outstretched hand toward the rising sun, "Is the sun not befitting for you? How else can a man such as yourself be kept warm?"

"I heard nothing beats away the cold like the company of a beautiful woman. Would you mind if I treated you out somewhere for a book sometime?"

She was simultaneously flattered and puzzled, "Isn't it more customary to treat me out for a drink?"

"The social connotations for a drink usually comes with the implication of a one-night stand, something hardly conducive to learning more about who a person actually is."

"I would like to counterargue that," she said proudly, "alcohol is a poison, a downer that filters out inhibitions naturally set by a person. It is quite conducive to learning more about a person."

"A solid argument," I said, musing over the fact that she made no comment toward the one-night stand. "But doing so under the context of using poison is a little too nefarious for my taste. It doesn't filter inhibition; it robs people of it. Robbing someone of the walls they've built is no proper way to know them."

She tried to keep her eyes neutral, but there was hunger in her voice. "And what would be the proper way of knowing someone?"

"You already know one of my answers," I said. "I was hoping I could get one of yours."

She pondered as began walking away from our table, "It wasn't my intention to have you flirt with me or to me flirt with you but... I'm happy at the way things turned out. If your words have any worth at all, you'll pick me up at this café in an hour. I only work part-time here."

And with that, she returned inside of the café to fulfill her other duties.

"Not too shabby," Chance said. "I'll be honest, I knew you had a thing with Ixi and Lucille, but I still didn't take you for such a natural charmer."

I'm surprised you can be so Casanova despite what Mar is going through," Eldaren's words bit down hard.

I didn't let it phase me in the slightest, however. Instead my rhetoric ended up being, "I've done everything I can for Mar's condition. I made her a promise that I intend to keep. Grieving about what I can't change at this moment won't do her any favors, neither would the discontinuation of me living a satisfying life, brother."

"Can you keep it?"

I couldn't help but smile at that, "I've kept you alive, haven't I?"

Eldaren froze at that comment. He took a moment before saying, "Fine... but we're still on contracted time, Khain. We have to get back to the order as soon as possible. We don't have time to be wasting pursuing women."

"I agree," I said. "We don't have time to be chasing after women or getting drunk at a bar, but we do have time to catch up and recuperate after having risked our lives in another dimension to retrieve something we don't even know the nature of," I traced invisible lines on Eldaren, on Chance and Daal Wan. "I may be able to heal your physical wounds, but my god gives me no assistance in assisting you with your psychological scars. You'll do well to take care of yourself, Eldaren. If all you're ever doing is fighting, then you'll become a shell of a man who's only good for fulfilling an objective."

"I know that. I'm not a child, Khain," his eyes grew dark, but his voice tried to stay friendly. "I just... in such a short time frame..."

"You don't need to struggle for the words," I reassured him. "I get it," and I meant every word I said back to Eldaren. I knew what we were all feeling, what we were all keeping quiet about. We had stumbled upon a secret organization that could radically change the world. We had become contracted to a secret society whose power and influence surpassed anything we were capable of. We had sworn to uphold the secrecy of said society or be slain like lambs to the slaughter. They would do worse than kill us. They would erase every fabric of our existence to ensure their anonymity. Despite the craziness of our lives, it was still something we were completely blindsided by. "Everything is going to be okay. We've survived so far..."

"I see no worry," Daal Wan said "We have overcome every adversity. Nothing can keep us down for long."

"Nothing yet," I said, the weight of those two words were like lead. "Though I am quite confident of our abilities, our teamwork could still use some work. Furthermore, we still aren't at a level where we're truly a force to be reckoned with. As we saw in that shadow library, there are creatures whom most of the world know nothing about, whom even the strongest, bravest warriors would stand no chance against," I paused to take a sip of coffee before continuing with, "And furthermore, we still have that curse place upon us. In less than an hour, we met a man who cursed us with magic that would put the most talented wizards to shame," another sip, and then, "I have to say, my life with you three has been the most... interesting portion of my life so far."

Chance looked away and said, "Speaking of interesting," and then his eyes beamed at Eldaren.

Eldaren looked incredulous at first, then his facial crumpled a bit, as if he were a man caught cheating during his entrance exams, a lookout failing to report incoming enemies, a man whose face fully registered the surest possibility of why one man would look at another in such a way. He didn't even have to turn around. I'm sure a part of him wanted to draw wits, something sharper than adamant is what would have been ideal for him. But his wits evaded him when a cold, collected voice called from a distance.

Who we saw was someone we hadn't seen in a long time.