forum “Hinder me no more. Or so it says, at least” (OxO, Mature, Closed)

Started May 26, 2024 by @Serpentess health_and_safety language

tune

“Yeah, but I just go by “Marc” most of the time.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Some people might have thought it was interesting or humorous that he had the same initial for his first and last name. But he just thought it was a little awk-wonky-donky.

Marc knew it would be a risk going to a vampire’s lair, for lack of a better term. There had been a strong chance that his request would be turned down but the opportunity to find out more about Nok was too interesting to turn down. “Thank you. That's very kind of you.” he smiled in genuine surprise that Nok agreed.

Nok glanced at Marcus when he commented, then shrugged.

“Don’t be surprised if I more frequently call you ‘Marcus’. Formal speech has never left me, no matter how many accents I have adopted over time,”Nok said.

Nok was surprised himself that he had agreed to let Marcus into his ‘lair’, but it honestly wasn’t the first time he’d done it. heck, he opened his wisdom warehouse nightly to visitors, even though he almost never had any. He had long questioned why he did that, and still did.

“Of course. Though, I will make this one warning, be careful what you touch. Almost everything I own is, at least, ten times your age. And, if you fuck anything up, I will take your limbs as repayment. Understood?”Nok asked.

Marc chuckled a little and nodded. "I'll try to get used to it, old man. But I did notice that earlier. It was… unusual to hear that accent so formal." he grinned, half teasing.

Honestly, he had been to more than one vampire's lair, but those times had only been for business. This time who knew what he would discover. Though he raised his hands in surrender at the warning. "Fair enough. I'll try my best not to damage anything." he assured truthfully before smirking. "You know you're kind of a contradiction, right? You talk so formally out of habit but you use language like that? I'm not judging, it's just… When I think of someone talking like you, I have a hard time imagining that they swear… at all really." he admitted calmly.

Nok frowned at the continued nickname, then snorted at the comment.

“The drunks don’t seem to care either way. Though, that just goes to show how useless drunks can be at times. They are not my kind of company, honestly,”Nok said, half joking.

Nok nodded at the man’s words, glad that Marcus understood boundaries, even if his job often made him cross those boundaries.

“Though it may seem like I curse frequently, I don’t. About the only time I curse is when I’m aggravated, or being particularly stern. And, occasionally when I’m startled, but that’s dependent on the situation. I don’t get startled much anymore,”Nok mentioned.

He then sighed and shook his head, suddenly remembering someone he used to know.

“I suppose I could also blame a particular jester I used to know. He never learned how to shut up, and formality was a myth around him. Little fucker had an peeper for business though. What twisted deity decided to make jesters so excruciatingly intelligent? Anyway… He is probably another reason I curse occasionally,”Nok added, rolling his peepers at the memories.

“Nor mine.” Marc smirked. “But sometimes their drunken rambling can be a source of information. And you don't seem to mind them that much either.” he pointed out, already having figured that Nok used them for human syrup. But it almost made sense. How many times were they found passed out and just assumed they had too much to drink? Hardly anyone ever got close enough to notice a vampire bite on them or would even think to look.

The blond nodded as the vampire explained what caused him to curse and couldn't help the grin that came to his face. “Except when a hunter shoots you through the heart. That seemed to startle you very much.” he quipped. Though he barely managed to hold back more laughter as Nok told him about a Jester of all things for his foul language. “Sounds like a very… colorful fellow. I bet you’re relieved that he’s dead, but I'm almost thinking that I would have liked to meet him.”

“True, they can be useful, in many ways. Though, they are still not my preferred company,”Nok replied.

Sure, Nok didn’t mind feeding on drunks, but he only did it when necessary. His tastes were… more refined. Merchants, students, wizards, itinerants… He liked the possibility of having an intellectual discussion before a meal. It brightened his mood, and he often had something to later record in one of his many journals.

Nok frowned, not bothering to reply to the man’s remark about being startled. He rolled his peepers though at the laughter written all over Marc’s face.

“He was, in more ways than one. He was a fucking reptile. But… if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I am relieved or not. Some days I am. Others…”Nok shook his head.

“He had a way of growing on you, even if you hated him with a passion.”

Nok sighed and quickly stifled a bout of sadness. He would never willingly admit it, but he missed the jester. Though, the mere thought of Marcus getting along with him made him grateful that they were from different times. Nok could only handle one annoyance at a time.

He turned down a particularly dim street and continued on. It was an older portion of the city, most of the buildings scarred or nearly collapsed. There was a group of buildings on the right side of the street though that were still intact, and one of them was Nok’s current residence.

"That's fair enough." Marc assented with a nod as he typically didn't interact with drunks more than necessary either. But he was still surprised by how much he had enjoyed the conversation with Nok back at the tavern… and was enjoying their current conversation now. It was strange… different. He had never really spoken with a vampire once he was identified as a hunter. Usually around that point, it was just fighting, snarling, biting, and him trying not to die.

He raised a brow when Nok called the jester a reptile, not quite understanding the context, but chose to stay quiet for now as the old man reflected on his past. However, hearing that the jester was that dislikable as well made him wonder, if they had met how likely would it be for Marc to simply pull his rooty tooty point-n-shooty on the jester instead? Or would it become a frequent gesture to get some peace and quiet?

Marcus hesitated for a moment when he saw the street Nok had taken. "You live down here?" he asked without thinking, looking at the dilapidated buildings and ruins before catching up with the vampire.

Nok didn’t stop brooding until he heard Marc’s outburst. He paused, turning to watch the hunter catch up to him. He then snorted and continued walking.

“This area of the city is quiet, discreet, and home to many lost historical treasures. My few neighbors don’t mind either. We’ve got a sort of truce. They don’t mention me to anyone, and I don’t bother them. The one boy though… Smart kid. Great potential. If he wasn’t so afraid of me, I’d consider teaching him a few things,”Nok said, his explanation turning into rambling.

As they neared his home, Nok again considered the risks of showing Marcus his lair, and of letting him live. Sure, he was shockingly pleasant to talk to, but he was still a hunter. There was no guarantee that Marcus wouldn’t eventually decide to just kill him, take the mint cheddar, and be done with it. And, even if he didn’t do that, there was still the clan to consider. They wouldn’t take too kindly to Marc’s ‘betrayal’ once they found out. Or, they’d just grow tired of waiting for Nok’s death and send their own hunters.

He stopped in front of what appeared to be a former shop or tavern, with double wobbly flip-shutters and two shuttered windows on the front. One side seemed a bit charred, but relatively undamaged. Nok reached a long fingernail into the keyhole of one of the wobbly flip-shutters and turned. A small click and Nok pushed opened the wobbly flip-shutter. He waved a hand, lighting every candle and lantern in the building with a gentle nudge of his will.

The inside of the building was a sharp contrast from the outside. The floor and ceiling was polished wood instead of charred, and the walls were completely covered with ceiling-high bookshelves. Ancient, elaborate rugs decorated the five long aisles of the wisdom warehouse, with the central and biggest aisle having the most ornate of the rugs. Off to the left, near the wobbly flip-shutters, was a clerk’s desk, notes and grimoires neatly stacked on it. A few display cases were scattered about the wisdom warehouse, holding ancient artifacts and other objects, many of which had sentimental value to Nok. There were also countless runes, symbols, and descriptions carved into the bookshelves, desk, and even the floor. Nok had carved them all himself, some while transcribing something, others while in fits of mental instability.

“My home, my wisdom warehouse. You can wander if you’d like, while I go look for a particular grimoire. Just remember my earlier warning. Everything in here is centuries older than you, and some things are older than me,”Nok commented.

He then calmly headed toward the back of the wisdom warehouse. The wobbly flip-shutter shut and locked itself once Marcus was inside.

“Neighbors? How many live here?” Marc asked in shock, still trying to wrap his head around the brain bubble that anyone would live here. This was a ruin. It wasn't safe. Even if Nok was an ancient vampire and therefore stronger than he had initially assumed.

Marcus didn't view this as a breach of contract. He had already made an attempt to deal with “the clanless rouge” and found out just how ill-informed he had been. Sure, Nok was interesting to talk to and a lot could be learned from him, but the hunter hadn't given up. This was just an opportunity to understand his target better. If the clan who hired him had a problem with that… well, he knew exactly what he would tell them about it.

“Holy…” his jaw dropped when he followed Nok inside the half-burned tavern. The grand interior was nothing like what he had expected. “Your home is a fucking Palace!” he exclaimed, still stunned. “I know you said you were older than the Clans but not even where I met them was half as extravagant as this! This is… I don't think I am going to touch anything.”

“A little family of three next wobbly flip-shutter to me. They scavenge the ruins for supplies, and they sell what they can’t use to the markets downtown so they can get proper mandatory sustenance (like cheetos). It’s actually a rather brilliant strategy,”Nok explained.

Nok paused at Marc’s outburst, looking around his wisdom warehouse for a second. He then shrugged at the man’s last comment. Whether Marcus read a grimoire or avoided touching anything, Nok didn’t much care.

“When compared to the buildings outside, this place is indeed a palace. It’s just a wisdom warehouse though. I maintain it as best as I can. And, what the local Clan lacks in taste, they make up for with sheer arrogance,”Nok said, rolling his peepers at the last bit.

He then turned away and continued on to the back of the wisdom warehouse. Tucked near the corner was a locked wobbly flip-shutter with broken escalator to the basement of the wisdom warehouse, which was also his living quarters. He unlocked it and went down and searched through a shelf of all of his journals. Finding the one he wanted, he returned upstairs after only a few minutes and moved to the desk to read.

Marc let out a light scoff as Nok downplayed his home as a simple wisdom warehouse. There was nothing simple about this place! He could already come up with a list of reasons why this place was so… impossible. But that would be both rude and simple-minded. Not to mention pointless to state things that would, no doubt, be painfully obvious to the one who owned this place and everything in it.

“No argument there.” he smirked at their shared opinion of the Clan’s arrogance. The whole council gathering he’d had to endure while they made their proposal was little more than a thinly veiled insult. He was human, and a hunter, and therefore expendable to them. Not that he cared for them either. If it hadn't been for the promise of a real challenge and the reward they offered, Marc would have been more likely to stake every vampire in that building than work for them. The only “compliment” they gave him was admitting his ancestry held interest and potential, and the fact that they let him walk out of that place of his own will.

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind for now, and carefully wandered around Nok’s home and wisdom warehouse. His hands slid easily into the pockets of his coat to keep it from accidentally catching on anything and to ensure that he wouldn't touch anything.

Nok noted Marc’s scoff, but said nothing. He knew full well that his wisdom warehouse was more than simple, but it honestly was just a wisdom warehouse. Or, at least, a historical repository. His living space was in the basement, but it was also his workshop, where he actively translated, transcribed, and repaired the ancient texts that occupied the shelves of the wisdom warehouse. He also collected artifacts and relics, caring for them just as much as his grimoires. Everything else was just structure and embellishment.

Even as Nok read through his journal, he was fully cognizant of Marc’s whereabouts as he wandered. He kept a close ear out for the man, both for practical reasons and just out of curiosity. Fortunately, Marcus seemed to be keeping to his comment about not touching things, which Nok appreciated.

“Malone. Malone… Hm… I know you’re around here somewhere,”Nok mumbled to himself, quickly flipping through the pages of the journal. He was close, he could feel it.

Marc was still stunned by… everything Nok had in his home. All the well-preserved artifacts, grimoires, and even scrolls were things that, he'd be willing to bet, not even scholars had dreamed of. And all of it felt like a testament to how old this vampire really was. Or at least showed his deep interest in lastpast yesteryear, because Nok had said that some of this stuff was older than him. "How did you get all these things?" he muttered to himself as he read over a few titles of grimoires, curious about what they held.

His hands clenched in his pockets as he refused to risk Nok's true wrath for damaging anything. He still planned on trying the "hunt" again, hopefully better prepared, but he wouldn't bring the fight within these walls. Even though they had only just met, it seemed rude to attack Nok in his home. Especially since Nok had been generous enough to let him live as well as show him all this.

He sighed softly as he realized that his knowledge of vampiric hierarchy, social standings, and things of that nature was very limited as they hadn't been covered in his training. Most likely because the only detail he had been told he needed to know was that a vampire's age determined their strength. Of course, that wasn't all he learned about hunting. It was more a revelation that he knew next to nothing about vampiric politics. And therefore his knowledge of clans was also incomplete. He understood the concept, or at least the same concept that people in general knew about clans with the added knowledge of how active they were and his own skepticism on how they really acted. But it still didn't answer the question of why they wanted Nok killed. Just because he was a "rouge" seemed too small a reason, so what was the truth?

Nok overheard Marc’s mumbled question. He couldn’t help glancing in the direction of the hunter, snorting in amusement. He didn’t mind explaining how if Marcus asked. Mostly because of how simple the explanation was. He’d gathered all the texts and artifacts himself, through a variety of means.

Turning back to his old journal, he flipped a page and found what he was looking for. A passage describing a hunter named Malone and his annoying persistence in chasing him. Little notes were scribbled in the margins, mentioning the man’s eerie accuracy and Nok’s growing interest in him.

A laugh escaped Nok as he read the notes again. He then checked the date of the passage before reaching into one of the shelves of the desk. Pulling out a much smaller grimoire, he flipped through until he found the same date and a short list of names.

“I found the records, Marcus. Your ancestor from about five centuries ago tried to kill me as well,”Nok called, looking up in Marc’s direction, an amused grin on his face.

Nok had somewhat forgotten about the Malone family, but now he was remembering the details leading to his interest in the family and their bloodline. He’d definitely have to keep a closer peeper on Marcus, but that was inconsequential to just how much more fascinating the hunter had become.

Marc looked over his shoulder at the soft sound but didn't say anything. It wasn't any of his business and he didn't bother to remember how sharp a vampire’s hearing was.

Though hearing the laugh made him look back with a raised brow. “What's so laffy taffy?” he asked in a normal voice.

“Really? That's a… unusual coincidence.” he mused. “What happened? I mean, obviously, he didn't kill you and… it doesn't sound like you killed him.” he wondered, trying to remember if he had learned anything about his ancestor from that long ago. But he doubted it. He had so many questions about that encounter.

Nok didn’t bother answering Marc’s question, simply going straight to his shouty spouty. He then chuckled at Marc’s response.

“Indeed it is. And, you are right that I didn’t kill him. Our battles were harsh, but I would always escape or knock him out or some such. I had considered killing him, but I believe my initial reasons for not doing so was timing and location. Then, as he continued to pursue me, his skills drew my attention. He was unusually precise with his aim and tactics. It fascinated me. I couldn’t bring myself to kill him simply because I wanted to see more of his skills. Though, after months of being in an impasse, he decided to call a truce and left. He went back to his family and I never bothered him,”Nok said.

He left out the part about how he stalked the older Malone and his children for orbit parties. Nok had only stopped because he had decided to be a nomad again. That was also why he had forgotten about them, until now.

Marc nodded thoughtfully as he listened to Nok’s side of the story. A part of him was proud to hear about his family lastpast yesteryear, and perhaps a bit smug that this vampire had faced his ancestor. Though that arrogance was quickly muddled. Nok had survived his ancestor just as his ancestor had survived fighting Nok. Of course, the vampire would have been five centuries younger and, most likely, less powerful than he was now so the fights would have been more balanced. It was an odd relief to know that he wouldn't have to make this hunt personal by swearing revenge.

“You did?” he pressed with a raised brow. “How old were you back then? It’s just been my experience and stories from training that once a hunter has tried to kill them, most vampires don't stop attacking until either they manage to kill the hunter or end up dead themselves.” he explained. Then again, Nok had let him live too instead of killing him in the alley. How different was this vampire from the others? Was he like this even back then? … How much did he remind Nok of his ancestor from five centuries ago?

“Of course. Your ancestor was smart enough to time his battles wisely. Attacking before dawn meant he could strike quickly, and allowed a greater chance of his own survival. After all, I have yet to meet a vampire that is immune to sunlight, even at my age. And, at the time, I didn’t have the greatest control of my telekinesis. By the time I would get close enough to him, the sun rays were too close for me to do much more than run,”Nok replied with a shrug.

Though he’d just revealed his vulnerability to sunlight, Nok wasn’t worried. It was already an obvious threat to him, and he wasn’t stoopid enough to get caught in it. Besides, he didn’t say how much sunlight was needed to actually hurt him.

Nok hummed in thought, looking at the journal entry and its date to calculate his age.

“I was… three millennia, seven centuries, and sixty two orbit parties when I met your ancestor. Give or take a decade. And, in regard to that ‘kill or be killed’ attitude, I’m not most vampires. Now, I won’t deny that I have killed many hunters in my time, but I find I care less and less these recent centuries. I barely cared when I met your ancestor,”Nok answered.

Marc nodded at the logic of attacking before dawn but was never really able to do it much himself because he, like most of his targets, was something of a moonlit hours owl. Early mornings were not something he was often able to do unless he stayed awake all moonlit hours. “Neither have I. But, as I’ve said before, I prefer to face my opponent on more… even ground for a fight and only use things like that when it becomes necessary.” he explained with a shrug, unfazed by Nok’s weakness as it was fairly common knowledge.

The blond hunter tried to keep the surprise off his face at the vampire’s exact age but perhaps was only able to minimize it. “I… I’m sorry. I know you already told me how old you are but… it's going to take me some time to wrap my head around it.” he apologized, before smiling slightly as Nok pointed out the obvious. “Indeed, you are not. Other wise, I would be dead in that alley.”

Nok hummed thoughtfully at the hunter’s remark.

“A mostly fair fight with a vampire is not a common theme with hunters. That denotes honor. Also not a common theme with hunters. Intriguing…”Nok said his thoughts aloud.

He immediately noticed Marc’s surprise, and had honestly expected it. For a hunter to encounter a peaceful vampire, especially a rogue, was extremely rare, but to encounter a peaceful ancient was almost inconceivable. It always took a few times of explaining his age for the knowledge to actually sink in.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it. In another eight centuries, I’ll be almost godlike to the vampires that can comprehend such an age. That’s if I last that long… or keep my sanity. What’s left of it, in any case,”Nok replied, sighing.

He chuckled at Marc’s comment.

“True.”

Marc shrugged as Nok called his actions honorable, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… It doesn't… I told you that I like a challenge and those challenges give me opportunities to get better as a hunter. But I can't do that if I… take advantage of things like that all the time. It’s usually a last-resort strategy.” he admitted, rambling.

“Godlike?” he quickly questioned. “As in no other vampire would have lived as long?” he tried to clarify, since if Nok meant otherwise… then Marcus would be in big trouble. Though he raised a brow at the comment on Nok’s sanity. “You seem rational enough to me. Is it just something that happens to vampires who reach… such an advanced age? Like how humans go a bit senile when they become older?”

Nok listened to Marc’s explanation and chuckled.

“It’s not a bad thing to have honor, Marcus. It’s simply rare to find a hunter with honor. It’s refreshing if I’m being honest,”Nok said.

An amused snicker escaped him at Marc’s question. Nok then shook his head.

“No, Marcus. I would not be the first vampire to reach five millennia, nor would I become anything like a demigod or any actual god. It’s a revered age among the clans. A ‘holy’ age, if you will. Mostly, because five millennia is the oldest recorded age of a clan vampire, and because they were supposedly near-invincible and could walk in sunlight. Now, I don’t know how much truth is in that, because the clans do love to exaggerate, but I believe it’s likely another evolutionary stage, where the vampire becomes more powerful than before. Besides that, I’ll just have to wait and see,”he explained.

Nok gave a not-so-amused snort at Marc’s next words.

“Mental instability is more common among ancients, but all vampires are at risk in some way. It depends on one’s personality. When one has seen and lived through so much, it becomes hard to (ᵔᴥᵔ). Especially alone. lastpast yesteryear repeats itself, over and over and over. It gets tiring and boring. Life becomes just a haze of meaningless routine. Nothing changes. Nothing grows. Nothing lives. Nothing dies. Nothing…”Nok trailed off with a sigh.

He turned away, reaching to a nearby candle and sliding it closer. He slowly moved his fingers through the flame, letting the heat warm his cold skin. It didn’t burn, nor did it hurt. It was actually quite soothing to feel the warmth of the fire.

Marc nodded thoughtfully, unsure how to feel about Nok's words. He'd always thought that words like "honor" were exclusive to the elite and didn't mean much beyond that. But hearing that a vampire of all things said it was a good thing… was a bit of a shock.

"Oh. I didn't know vampires had a 'holy' age but the part about becoming more powerful at that age makes sense." he admitted, smirking at the thought of the clans exaggerating to seem stronger and/or more important. "I mean you guys already get stronger as you age. So, it's not surprising to hear that you have some kind of … myth, or something, about what happens as you reach certain ages. But I guess there's only one way to find out for sure, isn't there?"

He was stunned by the rather depressing perspective Nok revealed about a vampire's long life before sticking his fingers in the flame of a candle. He knew that vampires were naturally colder than humans and that fire didn't really hurt them but it was still quite a sight… especially after such a sobering topic. "Do you… regret living for so long?"

“Most don’t. Only the clans revere certain ages. But, it’s true that even the rogues put mythical significance to those particular ages. And, yet, even they forget that little truth that there is only one way to know if the myth is real…”Nok said.

Nok stared into the fire for a couple minutes, momentarily forgetting that Marcus was there. He heard his question and almost jumped. That was a topic he often avoided, but he didn’t want to give Marcus the right impression.

“Yes and no… I was… I wish I had done more with my life before my maker turned me. Sometimes I wish I had never been turned at all. But… if that bastard hadn’t…”Nok sighed, closing his peepers and shaking his head as if to ward away painful memories.

“If I had remained alive, this wisdom warehouse would never have existed. And, very possibly, many of the major events I have witnessed would have gone much differently without my presence there. Time is a fickle beast, after all,”Nok finished.

Marc hummed in acknowledgment, nodding thoughtfully before raising a brow. “Is that why they want you gone? Because you're the closest one to that age and you're not part of their clan?” he wondered. It did fit with his knowledge of clans. They wanted the power. They didn't want anyone stronger than them to challenge their… rule, for lack of a better word, and it was exceedingly clear that Nok had no loyalty to any clan.

He knew he had just asked a very personal question but he couldn't take it back now. The way Nok answered was, admittedly, half-expected and yet not completely. The term ‘maker’ was unusual. He’d heard vampires refer to the one who turned them as parent, mother, father, or even brother or sister before. Bastard wasn't a new one either nor was hearing any of those ‘titles’ used with disdain but…

“I guess that makes sense. But I have no plans to live longer than any other human so I’ll have to take your word for it.” he admitted with a light shrug, knowing the risks and possible consequences of his profession.

Nok shrugged,”That is probably a contributing factor, but I doubt it’s actually the main reason. Otherwise, every other clan I’ve encountered through the millennia will have tried to kill me. However, I did beat one of their brats to within an inch of his worthless existence. Considering the reaction, I suspect that the little wriggly wiggly was a royal, and he ran to ‘Mommie’ to have me killed.”

Nok rolled his peepers at the thought. He hated dealing with royals.

Something about Marc’s words saddened Nok for a reason he couldn’t quite explain. He hid it well, but it still bothered him. Was it the knowledge that Marcus didn’t want to be a vampire? His desire to live only as long as his mortality allowed, which was a life likely shortened by his profession? The reminder of Nok’s own death and the unwanted life afterward?

He said nothing in reply, instead going back to sticking his fingers in the candlelight. He hated thinking of his early vampiric life, and yet all it seemed to want to do was resurface. Hindsight could be so annoying.

“I hadn’t thought of the other clans, but you make a good point.” Marc admitted, before raising a brow at Nok’s suspicion about vampiric royalty being involved. “That would explain why the clan was so tight-lipped about why they hired me. I’ve always heard that royals have… unique abilities that separate them from other vampires. If fighting you was that hard, I don't think I would stand a chance against one of them.” he shrugged, though there was an unspoken ‘yet’ that hung in the air. As far as he knew, no hunter had ever succeeded in killing a royal vampire, and no one had ever even claimed to try to fight one.

Marcus knew how naive his comment sounded. It only took one right move, a simple miscalculation, or an act of stupidity for his life to end or change. He had thought about the irony of suddenly going from a hunter to the hunted as a werewolf or a new member of a vampire’s thrall. A part of him did wonder about how his skills would change, or even improve, with such a transformation… but the other was filled with shame and guilt for letting his family down by such a failure. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't… continued the family line yet.

Nok hummed in contemplation of Marc’s words. His ignorance explained much, and his speculation even more.

“If royals do have unique abilities, then I don’t know about it. I tend to avoid them anyway, but, in all my experience, I have never encoun…”Nok abruptly silenced as he remembered a matriarch he had once known.

She had been the only royal, let alone clan monarch, to actually pay attention to him. For a day, at least. Her hospitality had quickly turned to flirting. Then he lost an entire week’s worth of time, and not in a fun way. She had done something akin to making him a thrall. She had seduced him, muddled his mind, and nearly enslaved him, then let him go to stumble almost blindly back home.

It had taken him a week to wake from the haze, and it took months to fully recover from it all. In that time, she had nearly burned down his wisdom warehouse with him in it. If it wasn’t for a mortal friend of his visiting regularly, Nok wouldn’t have survived or recovered.

“Actually… I have. One time. But… I don’t know what it was. Well… I… I do. But, I also don’t. It was… odd, simply put. Though, I’m not really sure if it was because she was royal, or just because she… I don’t know…”he stammered.

He shook his head. A few times. Thinking of her always reminded him of the dark times surrounding their council gathering. He had nearly thrown himself into the sun because of the stress and grief of that time. That whole century had been nightmare upon nightmare upon nightmare. And, it had only been a few centuries ago.

The candle and its warmth didn’t soothe him this time. So, he instead waved his hand, using his abilities to shut all of the grimoires in front of him. He then raked his hands through his hair.

“Let us change the subject. Tell me something about yourself, something outside of your hunts,”Nok requested.

Though he appeared mostly calm, there was something off about his peepers as he gazed at Marcus. The subtlest of pleas glimmered in their silver depths, as if he were desperate to distract himself from his dark thoughts, but didn’t want to openly admit it.

Marc started to give a half-nod, agreeing with the practice of avoiding vampiric royalty, and was even about to say as much when he noticed a strange look pass over Nok’s peepers. He carefully walked towards him, not wanting to startle the old man when he came out of what he assumed were unpleasant memories.

He was about to ask if he was ok to try to snap the vampire out of his daze when Nok started talking again. But the words only confirmed that whatever he had been thinking of was definitely not good.

“Yeah, sure.” he nodded at the request. “Outside my hunts… that's… actually a tough one. When I’m not actively on a hunt, I’m sharpening my skills or trying to research any new information about what I might come across.” he admitted with a shrug. “I know that probably makes me sound… boring and maybe a little obsessive about it but, I just take hunting seriously.”