"So, dear. What do you think of her?"
His mother asked, glancing at him. His mind lingered before he answered, dawning upon the white carriage. A beam. Like a star slowly eaten by the shade of Thoren
"And honestly…" He smiled "…she was lovely"
"Hmmm…" Hearing the answer, his mother nodded. A poised nod
"…and Amberveil… my, my… Dear. But wasn't it too fast, to give flower in the first meeting?"
"It might be...but who cares. They fit"
"And that..." His mother's ring finger found his nose, touching it lightly "...was a perfect move, my dear"
"But I'm not doing anything"
"Well that itself, was a move. And now, my dear"
His mother eyes found his, staring past him
"Do you want to ask something?"
He smiled at his mother remark, with a good reason at that. Thinking back at the meeting with Violet, one thing was bugging his mind.
Right until this point
"You know mother, i asked Violet about her hair"
"Oh..." His mother finger closed her mouth—with a half-assed shock "...you did?"
"Yes... and she seems confused about how to answer. Like...."
"Like no one ever question her before. Well, Altaris. It was because you've never met her before"
"What do you mean, Mother?"
He asked, holding his low tone.
"The house of Fernicus had been following the king for years, stemming from the first lord. And you know what it means, dear?"
"It means... no one dare to question?"
"Exactly" His mother nodded, brimming "But, there is always something beneath, do you know what it is?"
"I didn't dare, mother"
"Good, you shouldn't. But, I'll tell you. Not a single descendant of house Fernicus was a human. Not once, not ev..., Dear?"
His mother halted, looking at his hanging jaw. Out of all answer his mother had said, this one was the most out of place
It's not even kidding
"You mean..."
The words slipped past, almost a whisper. But nonetheless there.
Yet, his mother caught it, throwing a smirk. A cheeky, if he could call it even
"Exactly, my dear. Did you really think your kind mother would match you with those maggots?"
"Then… then what is she then, Elf? She can't be elf. Her ears were…."
"Do you know what Vampire is, my dear"
Vampire?
The words felt strange, he had good memory, usually. Unless...
"You haven't taught me about Vampire…mother"
"Well because it's not yet important"
"And is it now?"
Her mother didn't answer. Instead, she twirled her body with grace, facing the door that hadn't be closed since Violet departure.
"Then, let's talk about it along the way. And…" Her mother whispered, straight to his ears "…today dinner is…special"
"Is it your cooking?"
"Indeed, my dear"
"That what are we waiting for. After you… mother"
"Oh my… my little gentleman"
Then, they both walked, slithering past the corridor. Along the way, a few maids stood, bowing in silence. With a click, they began to disperse, leaving them both. Alone. Just like usual.
Her mother teaching…was reserved only for him
"Could you remind me Dear. What we are"
"A pure demon"
"Yes… a pure demon" His mother smiled "And why we called it pure, and not just demon?"
"Because… "His mind rolled, trying to find the answer "Because…mother, you haven't taught me that either"
"Oh…then, it was because, there are a few…"
"Demons?"
"Correct, my dear. And…?"
"Wait…" He paused, glancing at the ceiling "Do you tell me…Demons—me—was not the only one"
"Very much. You see Altaris, Wampire is a one of demons who had whole different thing"
"What do you mean, mother?"
"It means instead of this…" His mother hand rose, opening her palm. Inside, tendrils of black began to bloom, coiling between her fingers. Insidious. Like worm facing a watered ground. Yet… his heart race at the mere sight
Controls
His mother magic would always impress him
"…Their magic goes inside their body. Making it…"
"Stronger?"
"Correct, my dear" her palm closed.
"Now…How about continuing our lesson, after dinner"
"Sure mother"
"Eidric…"
His mother called. And as usual…
"Yes…master"
Eidric voice arrived—before the man itself. The mahogany door stood tall, with him waiting near the golden knob—hands ready. Steady, with half-bow reeked of obedience.
And nothing more
"Oh Eidric…can you prepare Altaris bedroom. And the bath… make sure it's warm enough"
"Already done, Master"
"Good…" His mother smiled "…and…"
Eidric paused, halting the door half open
"You eat with us. Loyalty... I want to test it"
Eidric lips perked, grinning wide.
"I'm the fool, master"
"Obedient… as always Eidric"
"You flatter me… master. Come…" The grin fade, warmer this time "…The dinner is ready"
With silent creak, his mother entered, followed by him leaving behind the corridor—with few eyes who lingered too long.
He threw a quick glance, noticing the extra.
But caring too much was never his thing
Especially when the awaited feast sprawled before him, resting atop a dark wooden table. Soup of white reflecting the candle-light, next to a piece of meat cooked till golden-brown. Proper. Each dish placed with measured space, contrasting the scent—mixed: sweet, flowery, with a tint of burn that tickled around his nose
What a grandiose dinner. Each food making his hand trembled
"Do you like what you see, dear?"
"Which was the one you cook?"
"Guess?"
His fingers hovered over the dishes
"The meat one"
"Oh… almost. It's the soup dear"
"But you've never cooked a soup before"
"That's what makes it special"
"Wait..."
He pulled his chair, right beside her
"…did you put Inkswell in it?"
"Ho…ho…even I wouldn't do that, my dear"
"Hmmm…"
Suspicious, his eyes narrowed. Yet, he sat anyway. Why?
Because his stomach grumbled, louder than the Inkswell bitterness
"Eidric…take a seat"
"As you wish, master"
Altaris sighed. Taking the fork, just as Eidric perched with a plop. The first thing he would gladly taste, was the meat. An abstract tenderness that rose just from a single glance
"The meat first?"
Her mother's questioned, following his eyes.
"I prefer to save the best for the last, mother"
"Good answer…" She held the plat, sliding it to him "…leave some space, dear. We won't stop eating unless I see the bottom of the soup bowl. Best if you lick it clean"
"Eventually"
"Hmmm…"
His mother nodded, still smiling. He cut the meat while his mother grabbed another plate—a purple fruit with hexagon seed sat in it. As the food was entering his mouth, his tongue rolled with every clasp of jaw. Tender. Like a jelly squashed using a huge hammer, squeezing the juice out.
Tantalizing. He would very much shove the steak with bare hands. Instead of cutting it piece by piece.
Yet, he couldn't.