Realistic or Modern Immortal War

[cane suga]

Neil still had to sleep despite being changed about a week and a half ago. The amount of sleep he needs was gradually getting shorter and shorter with every passing day, sometimes loosing mere seconds, other times loosing an entire hour. His thirst came in bursts. Sometimes it woke him up and he'd have to sleepily wander around until he found Isaiah so he could get his fill and go back to bed. Sometimes he never made it to bed, but he always woke up there. He never asked Isaiah about it since it was common knowledge that he didn't just sleepwalk back to bed since he didn't sleepwalk in the first place. He didn't want to ask any questions that hinted at Isaiah carrying him to bed since he didn't know what that implied when it came to their relationship. He didn't ask many questions that could lead to other discussions.
Neil got up this morning at nine, groggy and his throat dry from thirst. He stumbled out of bed and to his door, opening it and making his way down the hallway. His eyes were drawn to the pictures on the walls that he grew up looking at. Some were missing because of his reckless behavior as a child, either drawing on them while balancing on a table or knocking them off the wall and ruining them. He skipped around the house until he found the person he was looking for, Isaiah. He mumbled a morning greeting and motioned that he was thirsty, stretching his arms out as if he was a child wanting to be picked up, when he just wanted Isaiah's permission to get his fill.

On a completely other side of town, Matilda watched the sun come up through the dirty window inside her small living room. She'd need to cover up today, which she wasn't fond of doing since it got incredibly hot quite quickly when she did. She sighed, moving from her perch into the kitchen. She'd be getting thirsty soon, which meant Moriah would need to eat before then. She moved around the kitchen, getting a couple slices of bread from the bag in the cabinet and getting them into the toaster, making sure it was plugged up before she turned it on and went off to do something else while the bread toasted. She got a small pan out from another cabinet, turning on the stove top and setting it on the quickly heating metal. She opened the fridge and got a couple eggs, cracking them on the edge of the pan and breaking them over the heated surface. She heard them sizzle and decided to cook them sunny side up since Moriah wasn't awake to tell her how she wanted them. The toast popped up just as she plated the eggs, picking up the browned pieces of bread and setting them alongside the eggs. For someone who didn't need to eat, she was damn good at cooking. She went off to Moriah's door, knocking firmly on it and calling that she needed to get up and that her breakfast was ready.

 

[Lucyfer]

Mornings were usually the quiet times for Isaiah, or at least, they had been before he took in the child, Neil. The brunette man saw mornings as most humans saw night – a time for peaceful reflection and to catch up on things. He could not step outside during those hours, and was thankful at least that it was winter. It was also, no doubt, the reason many others of his kin on this half of the world were beginning to get anxious.

They had been in the shadows since their existence, and while it did not bother Isaiah so much, it bothered many others, new and old alike. It used to simply be a problem among the young, drunk on power, but now even those from Rome and Egypt were clamoring to make a stand, afraid of the new technologies out there.

Technologies that Isaiah tried to embrace, but oftentimes, failed. It was evidence in the kindle that lay discarded upon his wide, mahogany desk, in favor of an actual newspaper detailing the most recent attack. It was covered up as an act of terrorism instead, but those brown eyes narrowed on the details, aware it had not been merely that. It had soured his mood, with the thought that he would soon be meeting with Matilda, one of the vampires who sought to overthrow humanity.

He hoped to reach her.

He hoped to convince her otherwise. A war in their ranks, amidst those who wanted to be seen and those who wanted to be hidden, would only result in the same aims of that former group – they would be seen.

He was distracted from those thoughts by the sight of his blond childe, and he straightened up in the overstuffed leather chair, brows raising in concern, before they lowered and a low chuckle rumbled from his throat. He rose, height considered tall especially in his own day at 6’ even. He did not reach for the blue jacket of his suit, but stayed in just the white button-down and blue slacks, “You know where the blood is by now, Neil,” he commented. He supposed Neil wanted to keep him aware, as he was the one who had to refill their stores.

Part of remaining hidden meant taking pains to not attack humans – in that effort, Isaiah knew he was one of the lucky ones, as he let the newspaper fall to the desk and he walked around Neil, intend to return to one of the more private lounges within his manse. Isaiah was blessed with money and connections, thanks in part to his grandsire, and in part to his own savvy when it came to investments and real estate. He was able to find ways to purchase blood bags.

It wasn’t so good as blood from the vein, of course – but it was far better than animal blood, and he swept into the room with the mini-fridge of blood, and took out one of the bags, asking, “How are you this morning?” as he mindlessly went about the action of emptying the bag into a mug, intending to warm it. That usually made it a bit more tolerable to drink.

~***~

Sometimes, Moriah felt that all she did was sleep.

In the early years with Matilda, it had not seemed so bad. The woman had let her know what she was, and what world she was in, sinking in boogieman stories into the mind of Moriah that persisted and grew worse with the stark reality in front of her – with her understanding. ‘I don’t want this life.’

That had become the mantra over the past year, as she realized there would never come a day when she wasn’t tired. There would never come a day when she could pursue anything else – she’d missed out on formal education, tutored in her early years instead. Perhaps that unnecessary act should have kept her warm towards Matilda, as the food, and much else, but that education, the act of reading and exploring, brought up questions instead, and the answers had never been satisfactory.

There was no future for her. Sure, she was taken care of, but as cattle. The first time she’d heard that word with understanding, it had been like a slap to the face. She’d grown colder ever after, embittered and angry, but she had no sure way out of this. The fact that a vampire who wanted to overrun humanity was her best hope at survival turned her stomach some days.

On other days, she did linger in the past, when she had liked Matilda, and even looked up to her strength to struggle through all of this. She wished for her ignorance then, but it never returned.

Just the knock on the door, and the knowledge that the day would begin again. The blonde woman lifted her head from her pillow to give the door a bored look, contemplating feigning sleep longer, only to just huff and push the covers off of herself before approaching the door, not bothering to put her hair in order or make herself anymore decent than she was in a tanktop and shorts.

The food was always good. There was no argument against that – especially given that Matilda didn’t eat. “Thank you,” it was the appropriate response, even if food was a necessity…on both sides.

She’d step out and step past Matilda to rejoin life in the kitchen.