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Fantasy Immortuos

Lore
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Are you effing kidding me?!
Normally, Diavel was glad, even proud, to have senses as sharp as his. It came in handy when detecting whether or not someone was lying, for example. Chances were that if he smelled adrenaline and heard the heart rate picking up, someone wasn't telling the truth.
In this case though...
Well, he wasn't sure what to think of Isla's reaction when he'd taken off his coat and tied up his hair. Her body language was so obvious. He hadn't thought anything of it, but as it seemed it had an effect on his guest.
An effect she herself doesn't seem to be too happy about, he thought as the smallest grin crept across his face.
Still with the most mischievous little smirk on his lips he leaned a little closer to her and playfully raised one eyebrow.
"Like what you see?", he chuckled silently as he ran one hand through his hair and winking at her like he was parodying every flirty girl in the history of bad flirting.

Gods he knew he should be focusing on other things right now, but the recent events left his mind ping-ponging between a thousand topics and probably made him seem a little bipolar.
He wasn't sure if it was her personality, the way she didn't act like he was someone to be feared, the fact that she looked like Alice, or a combination of both, but he felt easier than usual, at least for the moment. At least until he'd have to worry about the problems at hand again. But in here, with this weird alchemist almost having going mental upon realizing what was going on with Isla, all that seemed so far away.
Or maybe some of the fumes in here were getting to him.

At least until the guy started invading her personal space like she was some object to be experimented with.
Still... He didn't own her, if she was okay with it he'd have to hold back, no matter his opinion about-

She looked like she was close to running away screaming.
When the alchemist's hand had almost reached her, a sharp hiss rose from Diavel's chest the same second he gave the man a warning death glare.
The message was clear: Touch her without her consent and you'll never use that hand again.

All in all he looked everything but pleased by basically everything the man said.
By the way he was talking and eyeing Isla it was clear that she was no person to him, but just another experiment. A chance to ultimate success at best.
Hey, don't you dare objectify me!, he heard Alice's voice in his memories, making him smirk. Daxten had wanted to use her as a bait to lure in some vampires he wanted to 'have a word' with, but she had told him off so sovereignly the Duke had been too startled to say anything in return.
He could definitely imagine Isla saying the same, if she'd be a little more confident about this world.
But right now she didn't, and that again triggered his protective instinct.

Hoping to give her some security that way, Diavel moved to supportively rest one hand on her shoulder.
"Whether or not she will stay here for these tests is her decision and hers only", he said coldly, before turning to Isla. "A word?", he asked before leading her out of the house to talk. Well, and to get a break from the scents in there.

He took a seat on the bench and patted the free space next to him to offer Isla to sit with him before he watched the dark night sky for a moment.
"Not the news you were hoping for, I suppose", he finally spoke. "I don't know about you but Mister Isane over there doesn't really seem like the most trustworthy fella, mh? On the other hand, he may be the key to returning to your world. I can imagine this is a tough choice for you..."

That these small tests for sure weren't as harmless as the alchemist made it sound was clear enough, the man was just too shady to make his words sound sincere.

For the first time ever since he'd found her in the woods last night, he turned to fully, really look her in the eye. It was painful, and amazing, and concerning and a million of other feelings, but he knew how easy it was to make a choice you'd regret later just because it seemed like there was no time to think.
The more he wanted to emphasize what he said, make sure she'd understand so she wouldn't make any rushed decisions she would regret.

"I just want to make sure you won't feel rushed to decide whether or not to agree to those tests", he clarified. "if you feel like you need some time to think about it or don't want to risk it, that's okay. I brought you here to help you, not to get rid of you. So don't think you'll have to do anything you don't want because of me. Whatever decision you'll make- you're always welcome in my home. Whatever you want, it's okay. Okay?"
 
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Diavel excused the both of them and she merely followed his steps as he sat on the bench outside. Even the night sky was different here in this world. It wasn't that dark yet, but stars were littered across the expanse of the sky. Where she was from you'd be lucky to see even one. The stars shied away from blinding city lights. She took into heart all that he said and was silent for a moment, swinging her legs back and forth.

"I don't know," She simply answered because she literally didn't know what she was thinking. There was a lot of things to say and think about. "But I'm not gunna let him touch me, he kinda creeps me out," her face was strewn with disappointment and confusion about how she felt about Snell talking about her like she was some kind of plaything. It was disorienting and she felt like she had somehow been verbally violated. "...I'll think about it a bit more. It just doesn't seem... right," She points out, not having the correct words for how she felt about that man.

When he had turned to look at her, hair still up and coat not on, Isla was surprised at the depth of his eyes, nearly getting lost in them. It seemed like there was a lot to know about him but suddenly... she remembers his cringey re-enaction of flirting. Her face grimaces as the memory floods over her and she looks away, planting her face into one of her hands, "You're so weird!" A little bit of the real her sneaked out as she tries to pry the memory away from her mind. She nearly got goosebumps thinking about it again. She wasn't sure if she liked it or was embarrassed for him.

She sighs and grumbles under her breath before standing up, pointedly looking at him, hoping that he wouldn't try something cringe-worthy again. She says cringe-worthy now but every time she looked at how nicely he tied his hair up and how the shirt fit him snugly, plus it was her first time seeing his arms-- "Anyway!" She cuts off her own thought process, not knowing how clearly her emotions were spelled out for Diavel. It wasn't her fault he looked like some model from a men's magazine, like one of those that people would deny reading but would secretly take a peek from time to time. "Let's go? I don't think I want to stay here... I'll figure it out tomorrow..."

Tomorrow would be a better day. Tomorrow... perhaps when she had digested everything properly and sorted out her thoughts --and looked through the book-- maybe she could think clearly at that time.
 
Diavel remained silent, just nodding at what Isla said about the alchemist creeping her out and not knowing about whether or not to give it a go.
Understandable; if that man would've been so close to touching him, he would've lost a finger. Or his entire hand, depending on his momentary mood, which was just... Going crazy ever since he'd found Isla in the woods. You don't encounter your dead wife's doppelganger every day, after all.
"The guy seems like a pervert to me", he finally shared his thoughts about that... Person. "I mean, he didn't touch you or said anything suggestive, but something about him just... Brrr. Makes my skin crawl."

That was when he finally understood what exactly made him feel such disgust towards that man. His face lit up with realization as he snapped his fingers and tapped his index against his bottom lip.
"Actually- he reminds me of a demon Daxten had allied with back in the days! Valdemar! Sickly green skin, red eyes, sadistic joy in cutting up everything with a heartbeat... I once caught him trying to k.o. me with chloroform in my sleep."
He raised one eyebrow bewilderedly.
"Said he wanted my eye- 'It's blind anyway, you wouldn't miss it, would you?' What the hell."

What the hell also was his first thought when Isla suddenly exclaimed that he was weird.
Who was being the weird one here?

He watched as her gaze seemed to wander from his hair across his face and down to his chest and arms, keeping his lips pursed to hide a grin.
It was futile, though; the way she seemed to judge herself for staring like that and trying to hide it-

His last attempt to pull himself together resulted in a small snort, lips slowly curving upwards. "Hmhmhm...ahaha-!"
That was it. The grin he had tried to hide had finally turned into a silently chuckle... And lastly full on laughter.
God, when had he been laughing the last time, actually? Must've been years. Decades, probably, if not even a century or two. Constantly hiding in a dark mansion didn't leave much chances to experience anything to laugh about.

"Sorry, sorry", he chucked. "I'm not laughing at you, just... Enjoying your company. You don't get that often when you're me."
It almost seemed like the mysterious, white lord had just become a lot more human. And honestly he didn't know whether to like it, or be scared by it.
Picking up his coat he motioned one hand towards the path they had come from.
"Let's go then. Let me know if it's getting too dark for you, don't want you to run into a tree, do we?"
 
A pervert. That seemed like an apt description of the alchemist. Not quite in a physical way but Isla did feel like he was hungry for the thought of her. She tried not to shiver in disgust. And then he started talking about demons... which... was again something new to Isla. Despite having a clearer mind now that she knew there was no easy way home, she really did think that every day she would discover something new and the possibilities here were just endless.

A green demon, he says, so there must be several other different ones. And then he talked about his blind eye. His eye. That's right. That's why he kept it covered up. She looked at the mask on his left eye that hid it carefully. Extremely curious about it now that he's brought it up but Isla knew it would be best not to ask... For him to put on a mask every day and not willingly show it to the world, it must be something heavy to him. Or so Isla thinks.

She blinks at him when he starts to chuckle and then gives him a half-hearted glare when he starts full on laughing. "Geez..." She says when he explains that he wasn't laughing at her, though frankly she had no idea why he was laughing, his explanation that he was enjoying her company --again, not sure what there was to enjoy-- sounded like an excuse. She didn't take it to heart though and played along, crossing her arms over her chest --difficult when you were carrying a book and a bag of tea leaves-- turns, and starts walking away to which she assumed was the right direction, not waiting for him.

"I can see everything just fine, thank you very much," She said in a fake slightly high-and-mighty tone. As they were walking, she thought about sleep. Yes. Sleep. She really needed some but she was worried about one detail. Her clothes. She wore the blue dress for the duration of today and although it was very comfortable --surprisingly so-- she was not very used to it. Neither was she going to be comfortable sleeping in some kind of medieval style night gown. "Hey," She starts. "By any chance... Do you have some type of shirt that I can wear to sleep? I mean..."

She thinks about how to explain this. She wasn't sure if it was uncommon in this world for females to wear shorts or pants or the like. Back at home when she went to sleep sometimes she would just throw on a loose shirt and comfy sleep shorts. Pajamas, if it was winter. "Like umm... fluffy shorts or... They're called pajamas. Do you have pajamas? Not the dress kind, I mean like the... Shorts and pants kind?" She sighs when she gives up trying to explain it and throws the term that she's familiar with towards him, on the off-chance he knew what they were.
 
Diavel stood for a couple of seconds, just blinking while his baffled mind caught up to this unexpected display of badass humor. Well he hadn't seen that comic, but... He liked it!
One eyebrow raised, he slightly shook his head with a small grin before he hurried to follow her, jogging until he'd caught up. "Okay milady", he said with an impressed undertone in his voice.
The look on his face clearly showed a hint of pride, too- she hadn't been in this world very long, but how she took it all in a stride and still maintained a kind of humor really left him amazed. Apparently, he had underestimated her by far.

When she asked about pajamas- whatever curious invention from her world that was- and continued to try explaining it with shorts and pants the first thing he had to think of was, well, male underwear. Basically short pants covering about one third of the thigh, made of cotton, tightened around the hip with a string.
Unusual choice for female sleepwear, but who was he to judge? He mostly just slept in his... 'shorts'? Definitely sounded better than underpants...

He exhaled an overly exasperated sigh before giving Isla a good-natured stink eye.
"You're asking about that now? Now that all the stores are closed?"
Arms crossed, he rolled his eyes and lastly just threw his hands up like some overly dramatic actor. If she wanted to play, fine, he'd go along. He could really use the distraction right now, to be honest.

"You're lucky", he finally explained, back to his natural self, and moved the edge of his coat to reveal initials stitched into the dark gray fabric on the inside.
M.A.
"My father was a tailor. Our family never was rich, quite the contrary, actually, so most of my childhood consisted of helping him in the shop. I could sew before I even knew how to ride a horse. Won't take long to make those... 'shorts'. And for the shirt you can have one of mine. If you don't mind, that is."

Upon arriving at the mansion, he led Isla downstairs, into an enormous basement, stuffed with furniture that looked older than time itself, chests and boxes with unknown contents and a million other small and big knickknacks. It didn't give off the cliché scary basement vibe though... Actually, it rather looked like just another floor of the mansion.
The end of the room was obscured by dark blue curtains which, upon being pushed aside by Diavel, revealed a cozy room, well-organized and neatly cleaned unlike the rest of the basement. A thick layer of dust was covering everything, but aside from that it looked like... A refuge, almost.

An age-old treadle sewing machine stood by a shelf bending under the weight of countless rolls of fabric, and the boards of another shelf were loaded with books to the breaking point. A worn-out, old couch was nestled into the corner of the room, next to a small table with a candle and a single, small painting.
A tall, slim man with brown, curly hair, deep gray eyes shining with contentment. He seemed to be wearing a long, dark coat. A woman was leaning into his embrace, her light blonde hair and white dress almost made her look like an angel.
In front of them stood three kids;
A little girl with the same, wild locks as her father, though her hair was an intense ginger. A boy, looking a couple of years older, with scruffy, blonde hair and a mischievous twinkling to his brown eyes.
Another boy, clearly the oldest by probably at least a decade, sleek, hazel hair framing his pale face in which his gray eyes seemed to be more focused on his siblings than whoever had painted the small portrait.

"Haven't been here in years...", Diavel mentioned a little thoughtfully and produced a measuring tape from the shelf.
"Alright. Just need to take some measures before I can start sewing. Ah, eh- any preferences regarding color?"
 
Snell watched as the two, unfortunately, started walking away from his house. Ah, what a pity, it had been quite a while since something excited his veins and had his blood pumping. He couldn't hear what they were talking about behind the window, but strangely, the Lord seemed to enjoy the presence of this world-traveller a lot. He raised an eyebrow at that and turned around, giving himself some time to ponder over the events that just transpired, wondering what he should do as a next step.

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"Well I wasn't expecting to stay another night!" Isla retorted at his remark about all the shops closing. She was thoroughly surprised when he said that he could sew. What else could he do? Why did it seem like everyone here was multi-talented? She had the impression that there was nothing he couldn't do at this point.

When he led her down to the basement, part of her panicked for a split second. Maybe this was the point where she would actually get murdered. Everything was an act and it would end here. But as soon as the thought came, it was gone. There were still a lot of questions and doubts in her mind but... at least for tonight, she wanted to rest easy and organize her thoughts tomorrow instead. That's what she usually did when she was too stressed at work. She wouldn't touch or think about it until the next day when she was refreshed and ready.

She looked around. It looked more like a storage room than a dingy basement. She walked carefully and tried not to knock anything over. There was a room beyond the curtains and it looked as if it would've been quite cozy, if not for the amount of dust there. There was one of those old-school sewing machines, that was the first thing that caught her eyes. She'd never seen one before, she'd never even seen a modern sewing machine in her world, it looked so... ancient.

The second thing that caught her eye, was the small painting. As Diavel strolled into the room her eyes locked on to the painting. It was definitely of a family. Something about it... or someone in the painting was sort of familiar. She stared at it a bit more, before Diavel said that he needed to take her measurements.

"What?!" Her head swerved towards him, "Can't you just estimate it?" It had been forever since she's checked her weight on a scale or even measured her waist. She was suddenly feeling self-conscious, knowing that she had probably put on some weight with all her takeaway food orders. But... if this dress still fit her, perhaps there was nothing to be so self-conscious about. She sighed and waved a hand "Fine, fine,"

When he mentioned colour she tilts her head in wonder. "I don't particularly have any preference on colour but... I guess blue would be nice," she says absentmindedly. She stifles a smile seeing Diavel hold a measuring tape, it just seemed so out of place. "You know... I'm amazed that you can even sew... Is there anything you can't do?"
 
The way Isla seemed to be shocked by the fact that he'd mentioned having to take some measurements really left Diavel surprised. Well, and a little amused, he had to admit.
He wouldn't have expected her to be self conscious about her size, especially as, just guessing by what he saw, she was perfectly normal sized. A little shorter than most, maybe, but who cares?

When he approached her with the measuring tape, he gave her a small, encouraging smile before he brought it around her waist. He needed to focus on memorizing the numbers, so he didn't say anything for a while, save a short apology when he had to measure around her thighs. Back when he'd still actively worked as a tailor, his mother had taken the measurements of their female customers, but right here and now it was just him and Isla, so he didn't really have any other choice than to measure around both thighs, add half of the number and divide the whole thing by two. No way in hell would he ask her to lift her dress, that would go way too far.

When he took the last measurement, squatting next to her, he finally looked up to answer, not wanting to make her wait for too long.

"I don't know if it helps your body image, but the numbers are absolutely average in relation to your height", he said while he got up, produced a quill, an inkwell and a piece of paper from a drawer to quickly write down the numbers so he wouldn't forget them.

While cutting out the pieces needed for the shorts he finally had the chance to answer her other question.
"You gotta keep in mind that I'm over 725 years old. I don't know your exact age, but roughly guessing I'd say you're in your mid twenties. Which makes me about 29 times as old as you."
He chuckled wryly. As far he could recall he'd never mentioned to her how old exactly he was. He wondered what she had guessed his age to be.
"You see, immortality comes with the downside of having a lot of time to kill. I just like to learn when I got nothing else to do. But of course I'm far from being a jack of all trades. Remember I mentioned having a blind eye? Impractical for a human; big weakness for a vampire. I can't really perceive depth, which limits me vastly in my ability to use vampire speed. I'd probably just run into one tree after another because I'd misguess the distance."

When he was done with the cutting and started sewing, the silent, rhythmic rattling of the machine filling the room, he gave Isla an intense look.
"I trust you to keep that to yourself, by the way. And, well, there are more things connected to what caused my eye to go blind, but that's a story for another day. Aside from that... I'm a good cook, but I can't bake to save my life, last time I tried I set the kitchen on fire. Remembering numbers and dates- hopeless. Most of the time I even forget my own birthday. Seriously, I keep trying to be structured and all, but chaos loves me. I'm absolutely untalented when it comes to home repairs and don't get me started on folding clothes or keeping plants alive. You know why you haven't seen a single potted plant in this house? Because they all die a sad, slow death."
This list had started as something he'd been embarrassed of, but right now it actually felt good to talk about it. Even a little funny, after all, who forgot their own birthday or didn't manage to keep a darn plant alive?
"And-keep this a secret, but- goats have always scared me", he added with an ironic grin.
Wow. For the first time in so long, too long, probably, he almost felt like a normal person, not some age-old vampire lord just waiting for the next catastrophe.

Finally, he got up and held out the finished shorts to Isla. "There you go. Should I give you a shirt right away, too?"
 
Isla tried to keep completely still as he did his work. This reminded her of the time she needed to get a business suit tailor made. One of the few times she got something made for her. An old woman was the one who took her measurements for that though, and she was very slow, only because there were a lot of measurements involved unlike here where she only needed shorts. But shorts though. To get tailor-made shorts was funny.

She thanked him begrudgingly when he says that her measurements were normal and somehow, when he mentioned that he was 700+ years old, she wasn't surprised anymore. All the weird things and all the incredulous things were true here, that's why something as normal and mundane as knowing how to sew was the thing that was now unusual. He openly talked about his flaws, she wasn't expecting that at all, but appreciated it. Here was a duke who talked about setting the kitchen on fire, not remembering his own birthday and yet, wherever he went and whenever people saw him, they seemed to hide away in fear. Those three vampires from Sigrid apologizing for stepping over the line. The looks on the faces of people in the pub when he marched in. Sol straightening up and becoming passive. Snell watching his words and actions.

Somehow, Isla partly understood why people were intimidated by him, but at least in this moment, when he talked about such simple things... she wasn't scared at all. In some ways, this kind of exchange was comforting. It was the part about goats that released a soft hum from her mouth, her lips curving into a small smile. She couldn't help the slight snickering to turn into small laughter, "Out of all the things you have in this world--goats? I'll keep that in mind for my own reference,"

She took the shorts from him and spread it out using both of her hands, taking a look. Not 100% what she was thinking of but it would do the work, the plain blue colour was totally her style too. She didn't need a confusing mish mash of patterns, not that he had any fabric that looked like that. "So, do they sell these types of things anywhere in town?" She asks, waving it around while it was still spread out. She nods at the offer of a t-shirt, "You don't have to trouble yourself to make it though, one of yours is fine," It was just for tonight hopefully, and she hoped that she didn't sound too comfortable or intrusive, asking for his shirt. Well, he was the one who offered in the first place.

Isla tries to stifle a yawn, but fails and covers her mouth when it escapes. "And... I'm probably going to need help navigating back to whatever room I slept in last night..." She had no concept of how big the mansion was, nor the floors or the layout of rooms and everything. "Do you feel the need to sleep at night? Or you don't actually need to?" Him talking freely made her a little loose with her lips as well, asking questions that she was curious about rather than holding off on it.
 
He couldn't help but laugh along when Isla couldn't hold back her amusement about his fear of goats. He'd seen that reaction coming, after all, a powerful, immortal Duke admitting to be scared of goats did sound funny.
"I don't know, it's just- those eyes just creep me out. I mean, ave you seen them? They look so wrong."

Chuckling when his guest couldn't hold back her yawn, he nodded at her request for a shirt and left his little refuge, leading her past all those old shelves and chests again and back upstairs. "We do sleep", he finally answered her question a little hesitantly. "But, different than you do, I guess. We don't dream. Basically it's more like..."

Fumbling for the right words to describe the vampire version of sleep, he ran into a surprisingly seethrough boy, probably barely out of his teenage years. His wispy, white hair was hanging into his face in soft curls, silver eyes wide in shock. The royal blue knitted sweater he was wearing was at least two sizes too big, just as his fraying gray pants.
"Dia! Is it true?! Are you okay? I was so worried!"
Before he could even react, the ghost was floating right in front of him, hands cupping his face as he was only an inch away from his eye to inspect it.
"Rain, I'm fine, don't worry, hey-", he carefully peeled his seethrough hands off his cheeks, but the ghost was shivering like a leaf in the wind.
Patting his back, Diavel flashed an apologetic smile towards Isla. He needed some way to distract him, before he'd panic completely...
"Hey, Rain- how would you describe a vampire's sleep to our guest?"

The ghost looked up at him quizzically for a moment before he bit his nails while trying to find a good way to explain it.
His gaze was constantly locked to the ground as he slightly turned towards Isla.
"I've seen a vampire 'sleeping' for over a decade once, after... Something bad happened. It was like he was waiting for something. So... It's like waiting, I'd say. Like a woodfrog that freezes during winter and comes back to life when it gets warmer."

"Did you just call me a wood frog?", Diavel growled jokingly, to which the ghost grinned a little awkwardly. "I'll take it back only if you beat me in chess."
"Get the board ready, boy, this frog will show you who's the boss! I'll just show Isla her room before."
Finally, if only for a second, the ghost looked up at Isla with a shy little smile. "Sleep well, Miss Isla..."

After giving Rain a last, uplifting pat on his shoulder, he led Isla up into his bedroom room first, to fetch a shirt for her.
It was a big room, the centerpiece, an enormous four poster bed with thick, night blue curtains, looking even older than its owner was. The parquet flooring was shimmering golden in the warm light of the candles lighting the room, and like back in the room with sewing machine, books were occupying every horizontal surface available in big and small stacks.

He headed right for the ebony shelf, picked up the night blue coat with the silver tree stitched into the back, that was hanging over one of the doors, and put it aside to have better access.
He just picked the first shirt he got his hands on, basically the same he was wearing, just of a finer, softer fabric in a light gray color.
"There you go", he said as he handed it to Isla and continued down the corridor, around a couple of turns and up some stairs, to her room. "Well, have a good night then. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask me or rain or the wolves for help. I'll be downstairs in the living room with Rain."
 
It's not over... It's never over...

Isla thought as a transparent thing swooped over towards Diavel, talking and even cupping his face as Diavel explained the concept of sleep. It would have scared the bejeesus out of Isla, but... this ghost was pretty normal looking, aside from the fact that he was seethrough. In that regard, it was not as bad as the horror movies she watched back home, but she wouldn't be surprised if those kinds of things still existed somewhere in this world. God forbid she ever run into those alone.

She was quite entranced by the affection Rain showed towards Diavel, and equally entranced at the tender way Diavel handled him. When he explained the concept of sleep to her, she pieced it together messily, still a few questions in her mind. So... when something bad happens? Like.. a trauma of some sort? Or did he mean sleeping through wars or calamities? Curious. Very curious. She wondered if Diavel taking a nap in the afternoon was then related to some sort of ill feelings, or he was just genuinely tired. Or that they generally slept in the morning?

"A decade is a really long time..." Isla thought out loud. Normal people would think you were dead rather than sleeping. She laughs a little under her breath seeing their conversation about sleep move to frogs then escalate to playing chess. "Nice to meet you, Rain, see you around," Isla waves as she and Diavel walks on.

Entering Diavel's room reminded Isla that she really wasn't home. The age of the room showed and the fact that they used candles or natural light here for lighting told Isla that electricity was probably not something readily available here, or maybe it didn't exist yet. Maybe oil lamps, but definitely not light switches or light bulbs and the like. Another thing to get used to.

Get used to... Just how long am I staying here...?

She also noticed that there were piles of books and rows of bookshelves here too, just like it was in the basement. He must like to read, she concludes.

"Thank you," she smiles up at him as he leaves her at her bedroom door. "I mean, for this, this" she holds up the shorts then the shirt, "and everything so far, I've got a lot to repay you for," and Sol as well, she reminded herself. She steps back into the room and shakes her head, "I don't think I'll be bothering anyone else for tonight... My mind's still awake but I think my body's just about ready to collapse," she sheepishly laughed and starts to close the door, leaving an inch open for her to peer through and look at him. "...No funny stuff while I'm sleeping..." she warns, almost pleads. She was actually a little scared of waking up in the middle of the night and just... coming face to face with some sort of cryptid or ghost. "See you tomorrow... Don't uh... don't sleep for too long," She adds as an afterthought, remember what Rain said about sleeping for a decade.

She finally closes the door softly, with a big sigh. She didn't know how thick the walls were here or how good his hearing was but he had probably heard it, she hoped that he didn't take it negatively. Frankly... she also needed some time alone to think about things and to just... be alone. It was one of her things. She changed into the shirt and shorts he provided, noting that the candles were already lit, possibly one of those stone statue looking things was tasked to do that before they came back.

After changing she realizes that the shirt is too big, giving her an idea of the difference between her and Diavel. The shorts were comfy, however, only the hem was peeking out because of how long the shirt was on her.

I mean... He's tall... but everyone's taller than me over here...

She shrugs and doesn't overthink it. It was much much more comfortable than the dress she wore earlier. She takes a good look at the bedroom and the style, similar to Diavel's but this room was a lot more... polished. It wasn't new per se, but it was clean and looked to be managed well.

She sighs yet again, leaving the tea leaves on a table that was off to the side, taking the book with her to bed. However, when she got on the bed, she didn't feel much like reading at all. It was just so soft and inviting, but she told herself she would look at a few pages before retiring for the night. She sits up in bed and smooths a hand over the cover of the brown, hardback book. It was frayed in a lot of places and some pages were sticking out, telling her that it was not in the best condition anymore.

She opens it and there was no title. Page by page she flipped through, and learns that the book was indeed a collection of potions or remedies of some sort, the only problem was... the disease was not specified. Unlike her world where you could just google "migraine" and it would give you a list of remedies or suggested treatments... This book was vague and had a lot of roundabout and long-winded instructions on how to make the remedies.

One of the pages she stopped on, listed only the symptoms, but not the name of the ailment itself. "A drink to combat a dull, throbbing pain on the forehead, pain is specifically at night. For morning pains, follow the recipe on the next page," She nearly rolled her eyes. Why the heck would it matter if the pain was at night or in the morning? And would it just be particularly helpful if your headache was on the front of the head, and not the back?

Also, what was up with these ingredients? "...water from a clean river, a handful of crushed feverfew flowers" she slipped into bed as she read, her head hitting the pillow. The first few ingredients sounded pretty easy, until it got to "...A drop of blood from a creature that thrives at night...???" she was thoroughly confused. The instructions and procedures were easy enough, put it in a pot and boil it, let it cool and it'll be ready.

But as she went through the pages the remedies got increasingly difficult and complex, impossible even. Her eyes were getting heavy. She caught herself dozing off a few times already, until her hands let go of the book and let it rest next to her on the bed. Her eyes fluttered close and she was swept off into a dreamless sleep. She was completely knocked out.
 
"So... I'm... Surprised?" Rain was staring at the chess board between them, twirling a streak of hair around his finger while thinking about his first move. "So her name is Isla?" The white Pawn moved to A3 on its own, influenced by the ghost''s telekinetic power.
Diavel nodded while mirroring the move. "So she says. I didn't mention anything yet, it's been a stressful day for her, I think."
The next white Pawn moved to C3.
"Reincarnation?"
Diavel shrugged when he moved his knight forwards. "If it is, she lost all her memories of her past life. But... I don't know."
"You don't want it to be reincarnation, hm?"
When the vampire looked up, he saw how Rain was watching him with a look up understanding in his gentle eyes. He slightly shook his head, shoulders lifted.
"Honestly? I don't know. Alice was the light of my life, but... No matter if Isla is a reincarnation of her, she's not Alice, no matter how much she reminds me of her. She clearly has her own life, her own memories and emotions. And I gotta respect that. I'm not so presumptuous as to think that some kind of fate has sent her here for me."
Rain nodded slowly.
" That's what you keep telling yourself, hm?"
"What do you mean?"
"I see the way you look at her. You're at a constant conflict with yourself."
Blushing faintly, Diavel moved his rook to capture one of the ghost's knights. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you certainly are a little out of your element", Rain remarked upon cornering the king with his rook and queen. "Checkmate."
Diavel's gaze gained a wistful warmth upon recognizing the trap Rain had set there.
"Beating me with my own weapons, I see. Bud, pardon me, but I really need some time to close my eyes and get my mind off everything. Think I'll head to bed."

He got up swiftly and headed straight for his room. Normally he took a bath before going to bed, but honestly he was just too mentally exhausted to care about that now. He'd just take care of that in the morning. Unusual for a vampire, to be up during the day, but he figured that he, as Isla's host, couldn't just stay in bed all day while she was probably having a million and one questions.

Back in his room he untied his hair, took off his mask, undressed and flopped down on his bed in his shorts, staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, trying to get his thought to silence.
Most vampires of his age had long shut their emotions off, but it had just never felt right to him. Plus, the last time he'd done that... Hadn't particularly ended well.
Sighing, he turned, pulled the silky blanket up to his nose and drifted off into sweet unconsciousness.




The next morning Diavel woke up to a brightness he hadn't seen in quite some time.
The sun was shining outside and casting broad stripes of light across the floor by the windows, but the curtains of his bed protected him.
He swiftly got up and carefully moved around the spots of sunlight to avoid being burned, but couldn't help but sneak a curious peak outside.
All those beautiful colors...

After listening closely for any movements nearby he quickly darted across the corridor and into the bathroom to take a quick bath and freshen up.
The warm water and the scent of rose wood soap helped his mind stay at rest for a little longer, seething he was really thankful for, especially in these confusing times. But soon enough his momentary inner peace would be disturbed;

After heading back into his room and putting on some fresh clothes; just some black pants and an ivory shirt of which he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.
Then he picked up a small glass vial with some seethrough, golden liquid and headed for the mirror.

The face looking back at him made him sigh in shame, but he was very well aware that he couldn't escape it. It was his own face, after all.
The part that was usually covered by the black mask had a sickly, gray tinge, with a web of blackish-dark gray veins spreading across it. It looked like it was stretched over bare bones, gaunt and hard like the skin of a mummy. Deep, circular scars littered the area around his eye and cheek bone. Contrasting the unhealthy color of the scarred part of his face was his left eye, a milky silver iris without a pupil, surrounded by a bright red sclera that made the phrase 'bloodshot' seem like a joke. The scar tissue was keeping it in a half closed position that added to its demonic look.

He stared at his own reflection for a couple of seconds before he dabbed some of the golden liquid on his gray skin. It didn't do anything to fix how it looked, but it kept the skin smooth and lessened the pain.
Though he sometimes still wondered how Alice had been able to still call him attractive, even with that disfigurement. To him it looked like hell had made a home in his face and kept reminding him of how he had lost his whole family and in the end, his own life.
 
Isla wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping, but because she didn't draw the curtains shut last night, she woke when light started to fill up her room. She blinks a bit, staying motionless in bed, and suddenly sits up, tense.

Ah... Right... I'm still here...

She wasn't quite sure how long it would take her to get used to that. She sighs and plops back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling of the four poster bed. She closes her eyes, grabs a pillow and pushes it against her face, whining against it. "Ughhhhhhh..... Whyyyyy is this happening," She stays like that for a moment, and finally sits up, the pillow sliding off of her face.

So, it seemed like this was her reality at the moment, there was no use trying to fight it. She stretched a bit and opted to get freshened up first, the tangles in her wavy hair was bothering her. In the bathroom, she opted to take a quick bath and found that it was the perfect place to think about things. Organizing her thoughts the way she would organize her to-do list at work, she tried to find her main problem, and it was obviously finding a way home.

A "solution" was presented by the alchemist in town by running some tests on her, but something told her that he was merely bluffing. How would running some tests on her help...? Was the alchemist able to perform some type of magic or create some type of device that would lead her back home? Even so, it wouldn't be easy to make. So, she decided there that she needed to talk to someone who knew more about this world, frankly she should have talked through it with Diavel last night, but she was far too tired to think about it. She'd exchange ideas with him and see what other options she had.

That's right... Just see if there are any other options... If not then... Maybe we should give the alchemist a try...

Her second concern... was the red plague. If she was going to be stuck here for a while, that was the next big thing she had to worry about. That and surviving. By the looks of the events yesterday it was definitely not a small thing. Diavel's reaction and Sol's story about it. The Earth fae's warning about an illness starting to spread across the land and, if she wasn't mistaken. There had to be some kind of help the book could give her. The problem was... the book was impossibly complex.

I'll get to that after my bath... and some food... I need details about the symptoms...

She had managed to find that there were towels in the bathroom and to her surprise, the wardrobe was filled with dresses...All of which didn't seem like something she would wear on a daily basis. She picked the simplest one a light blue dress, the front part tied together in a criss cross manner, akin to what a corset would look like, the sleeves were white and were styled in a slightly ballooned way. She had the dress from last night folded on top of the table, along with her shorts and Diavel's shirt. Her hair was still wet when she changed into the dress, opting to just leave the towel around her shoulders--that's what she always did at home, and there weren't any hair driers around here-- She decided to go and see if she could find her way to the kitchen.

She couldn't. She underestimated the size of this place. She thought that her memory would serve her right, trying to remember the route they had taken yesterday. Now she was lost in these hallways and without thinking much about it, started to peek into rooms at a desperate attempt to see if anyone could help her. The first room she opened was empty but she noted that it was considerably smaller, looking like a maid’s quarter of some sort. The other two rooms were the same, and she figured that perhaps she was at the wrong side of the mansion.

She stopped opening doors and walked a bit more, turning some corners. She came to a door that seemed slightly familiar to her and in a daze, opened the door to a room that she definitely had been in. Her gaze travels to the four poster bed, the parquet floor and the ebony wardrobe until she saw the familiar form of Diavel except... there was something off about him, something missing. She stared at him out of wonder and it slowly dawned on her that he didn’t have his mask on and...

It’s not as if she was disgusted by it but she was taken aback. The web of grey, nearly black lines on the left side of his face, the scars and his eye. As if death had tried to take him away but he had somehow wrestled out of its grasp. Her breath got caught in her throat, she knew she walked into something she shouldn't have seen. She opened her mouth to say something,

"Sorry-- I just-- I was lost," she stammered and could not even will herself to close the door, to move, or to anything. She gripped the door handle tighter, "I didn't mean to barge in," she was still looking straight at him, not meaning to stare but just to understand what she had stumbled upon.
 
Diavel didn't think much of it when he heard the door opening, expecting it to be either one of his gargoyles or Rain, who technically was able to pass through walls, but mostly avoided it because he hated the feeling.
He didn't care about them seeing his scars, the gargoyles were just minor demons trapped in stone statues, nothing important, and Rain, well, he basically was family. He'd trust this boy with his life without a second of hesitation, and he knew what he looked like without the mask.

But when he turned around, he found himself face to face with Isla.
No-...
He stood still in shock, just like she did, but every second that passed with her trying to apologize and still staring at him like she was watching some freak show, made a red hot anger boil up inside him.
His right eye narrowed furiously with every word that made it past her lips.
Who was she trying to fool, she w just talking to win time to stare!

"Like what you see?", he snarled as he approached her, a bitter reference to last night. His entire body language had changed, compared to last evening. While he normally carried himself with a regal confidence, spreading an air of power and authority, he now looked like a cornered, wounded animal.
Back slightly arched, long strands of wet hair hanging into his face while his right eye gained an entirely empty, white color and his fangs grew longer, he looked like he was ready to attack any second.

Stop talking and leave me alone, please, I don't want you to see me like this!

Well, that's what he should've said.
Would've said, if the whole situation hadn't been just too much for him to handle right now, especially after the events of the past two days.
It was like she was bringing everything up that he had difficulties dealing with. Like his personal hell and heaven had collided.

Somewhere deep inside him he knew that he was being irrational, that Isla wasn't trying to steal some tiem to stare at him by faking am apology. He knew it was sincere and he knew that she was just trying to understand what she was seeing.
He knew it all. He just didn't understand.
Not yet, at least.

"If you didn't mean to barge in then why are you still here?!", he hissed before he stretched out his right hand, the entire arm covered in what looked like white flames. An invisible force seemed to slam into Isla like a wall, threw her out of the room and slammed the door shut in front of her.
A couple of seconds later, the door opened again and Diavel, now wearing his mask, but still partly engulfed in ghostly white flames, rushed past her without paying her any attention, leaving a trace of white ash behind as he hurried off into the library on the ground floor.
 
Isla had never really been petrified before. Scared or frightened, yes. But petrified was a whole new level for her. Her body trembled at his rage but her body refused to move, refused to cower in fear. Perhaps it was the shock that kept her still.

"Like what you see?"

She starts to shake her head "No, that's not-" but stops when he seemed to get angrier. Denying it wouldn't do anything now. Talking wouldn't do anything now. He looked to be way past reason. The fear that struck her when he started moving forward, white flames around his arm, was the only thing that willed her to move, and even then, she only managed to step back one bit and close her eyes, head turning away instinctively as his arm reaches out to her.

She was preparing for him to grab her, or to burn her alive, or to devour her whole, so when she was suddenly pushed back by an invisible yet powerful force, she was not expecting it in the least. It was so strong that it swept her back, enough for her to lose balance, trip on her feet and land on the floor just outside the door right as it slammed shut.

It was suddenly quiet and she was dumbfounded. The shock started to dissipate only to be replaced by guilt. He must've felt so violated, like a part of him that was supposed to be a secret was suddenly revealed. Before she could even pick herself up the door opened and he came flying out without any regards to her. She wanted to call out to him and say wait, but perhaps it was better to leave him be for now.

There was a trail of white Ash where he walked and although she was contemplating on just going back to her room and locking herself in there - - her appetite had suddenly disappeared too-- she knew she wouldn't be able to find the way back. She wordlessly picked herself up, noting the small ache that twinged up from her lower back. She ignored it, it wasn't that bad to make a fuss about and followed the trail leading to the ground floor, and thankfully, she found the kitchen on a different path to the one that he took.

She glances at the white ashes leading somewhere else before going the other way to the kitchen. She sat at the same table that she had yesterday, when Diavel had taken out the map and spread it on this same table. She blinked and just sat there. She wasn't even thinking about anything, her mind was blank until the image of his face flashed in her mind once again, and then his rage.

She sighed, wondering what she could do. Was he going to throw her out now? Would she be forced to live somewhere else and if so, where? She rubbed her temples, closed her eyes and with another sigh muttered to herself. "Come on, Isla, how are you gunna survive like this... Stop fucking things over... What're you doing just barging into other people's rooms anyway...?"

Something clattered on the table and she suddenly jumped, taken out of her thoughts. A plate of omelette. That small statue looking thing had put it there and was looking at her curiously. She hadn't even noticed it was cooking. This omelette didn't look as presentable as the one yesterday, perhaps because Diavel wasn't able to help it this time around. "Thanks..." She softly said and just stared at the egg. She didn't want to eat it. Her loss of appetite this time was different from yesterday. She groans and folds her arms on the table, laying her forehead against it and closed her eyes.

She was just so lost. With no one to talk to. To top it off she had gotten on the bad side of the one person who was kind enough to give her a place to stay. Not having anyone to rely on or to talk to was far more difficult than she thought it would be. Sure, she had always been a solitary person, with the occasional company of friends, but this was different. Being alone was different from being lonely and lost. "It's okay..." She whispered to herself. She'd promised herself yesterday that today would be different. Today would be better after having a refreshed mind. "It's okay... Just eat first..."

She picked her head up and started to eat, cutting a piece of the omelette and shoving it into her mouth. It was hard to swallow not because of how bland it had been cooked but because of the difficult feelings in her. She placed the fork down and proceeded to just have a staring contest with the omelette. After a while, she pushed it away and turned towards the statue looking thing that was cleaning up at the kitchen. "Hey..." It turned towards her quizically.

"Umm... Do you know... Where my room is?" The little thing flitted up and down with little garbled sounds, Isla took that as a yes and as it started walking out of the kitchen, she stood and followed. Sure enough, it successfully led her to her room --she wanted real bad to try and memorize the route but her head was extremely clouded over-- she thanked it and it scurried away quickly, possibly having other things to do.

If I'm just going to be pitiful I might as well do it in private... But, I'm not going to be useless...

She grabs the book that was still on her bed and walked over to the study-table off on the side, poring over it and trying to read through the pages, hoping to find some clue or at least an indication of the red plague. That was how she distracted herself, knowing that Diavel probably didn't want to see her at the moment, she would figure out a way to apologize later.
 
A white raven was racing through the sky at an insane speed, flying from shadow to shadow as if to avoid the direct sunlight that singed its shining feathers and made them smoke.
Diavel knew that the idea to go out during the day was beyond reckless, but he needed to get out of there, clear his head and somehow regain a sense of dignity, if that was even possible.
As the mask disappeared when he morphed into an animal, so either a raven, a swarm of bats, mist, or a snake in his case, the scars weren't protected in any way right now, just covered by a few, white feathers. And it showed; sunlight was painful in general, but when his broken skin was exposed to it, it hurt like it had caught fire.

He'd basically been flying blindly, not paying any attention to where he was going, but when the burning of the sun became unbearable and he was staring to lose feathers because his skin was blistering he nosedived down into some half broken, abandoned barn where he instantly flew into the wall because he had misjudged his speed and the distance.

Breathing heavily, he morphed into his normal vampire form and leaned his head back against the brittle, wooden wall, eyes closed.

His mind immediately went back to isla and the look of shock on her face. She hadn't been supposed to see him like this, neither without his mask nor... Him losing his nerves like that. No matter how much she liked like Alice, she almost was a stranger to him. How was he supposed to handle this situation now? Was his anger justified? Or well, not exactly anger, it was more like... A reaction out of fear and shock and-...

What was he gonna do now?

In moments like this did he really become aware of how lonely he was. Of course he had Rain, but -... That was about it. The wolves were his servants, not his friends, and everyone else feared him. And while he was incredibly thankful for the sheer endless patience and support of his ghostly friend, he felt like if he'd talk to anyone about what had happened, he needed someone with a neutral perspective on this.

Oh Dia, now you're really desperate... I can't believe I'm doing this.

Lucian? Can you hear me?
There was a lifelong telepathic connection between a vampire and the vampire they had been turned by, and Diavel had only turned one vampire in his entire life.
Duke Lucian, during the war. He had pleaded to be turned so he could fight for his family and his village. A century later, after the death of the old Duke of Athera, Lucian had been chosen to take his place. Diavel had supported him; they'd never been particularly close, but he valued the younger vampire's fairness and responsibility and trusted his skills as a leader.

It took a while, but Lucian really answered.

Diavel? I'm surprised to hear from you, we barely ever talk in private. ... True.
I uh... I was hoping you'd share your opinion on a matter that's occupying me right now. You know, as a neutral person.
Okay? Fire away.
Uh... Okay, so... I don't know, I'm having a guest at my place right now and she's accidentally seen something she wasn't supposed to see. And i kind of... Yelled at her when she tried to apologize. And pushed her out of the room. And then left.
... Huh, okay...
I wasn't acting exactly appropriately , was I?
Disputable, I'd say. But- every emotionally loaded reaction is better than a vampire with their feeling shut off.
Yeah... thanks...

Sighing deeply, Diavel took a couple of hours to calm his racing mind down and regain his composure. The short talk with Lucian had confirmed his realization that he should've reacted differently, but also comforted him by telling him that it was better than having and showing no emotions at all.

With a long, defeated sigh, he got up to return home.

By the time he was back at the mansion, his shirt had some burn holes, but he was overall okay, aside from some small burns that would disappear soon enough.
He'd made a short detour to buy a small bouquet of flowers, mainly Lilly of the valley and white chrysanthemums, framed by long, green lily grass.

Taking a slow breath, he gently knocked on her door.
"Isla?", he softly mumbled into the wood. "I... Wanted to talk about this morning. May I come in?"
 
Reading the book gave her a headache. This was tougher than she thought. She read a lot of what seemed like useful and easy cures but nearly half of the contents, she couldn't understand. She wondered if it would be easier for someone who was from this world to try and take a look at it. Through her page-flipping and page-scanning though, she had managed to fold some of the pages, thinking that it might be useful later on. She tried to remember what Sol told her about the symptoms of the red plague, but she couldn't remember. Was it red eyes? Bleeding eyes? Coughing blood? It all just meshed together in her head.

While wondering about that, her mind drifts off to Sol. She pondered about if he was alright, after being dismissed hastily like that by Diavel and wondered if his friends that she met yesterday were fine too. The mention of the dungeons also piqued her interest. What kind of dungeons were they exactly staying in?

She was taken out of her thoughts by a soft knocking on the door and the soft mumble of her name from the other side. She froze, recognizing the voice even from the other side of the door.

Diavel...!

She shuts the book, abruptly stands up but doesn't move toward the door.

Oh god what am I supposed to say?

She takes a deep breath, fumbling with her fingers but moves towards the door, twists the knob and opens it an inch, peering out rather shyly. "Um... hi!" She said, forcing a smile, met his eyes but immediately looked away. She couldn't look straight at him and truth be told she was slightly nervous. When she looked away though, and her eyes travel down originally just to stare at a fixed point on his neck, she noticed what seemed to be slight burn marks on his skin. She pulls the door open in curiosity, eyes scanning his body. His shirt had holes in them and she wasn't sure from what.

"What happened to you?" She asked, suddenly alarmed, momentarily forgetting about what transpired this morning, taking a step towards him. "Were you attacked or something? Are you ok?" It was just so disconcerting to see him in such a state, she had the impression he was always prim and proper and well-dressed and now his shirt was half in tatters. Not to mention his hair was slightly disheveled, like he had gotten into a fist fight with someone.

She suddenly realizes that perhaps he had wanted to talk about something more urgent, about this morning and instantly retracts back from him, fidgeting with her fingers. "Sorry..." She didn't even know why she was saying it but she didn't wanna cross any other lines again and fully stepped away from the door, leaving it open for him to come in.

Kay. Welp. This is probably the part where I get thrown out of here and onto the streets.
 
Diavel could hear how she'd gotten up from her chair and hesitated to open the door, and it just made him feel even worse about this morning. She hadn't barged into his room in any ill will, in fact she'd probably just gotten lost in the many hallways of his mansion, and he had reacted like a monster.
Even the relief that washed over him when she finally did open the door didn't do much to help his bad conscience. He'd overreacted, and he knew it. Just as he knew that he as never dealt with the past the way he should have. Maybe it was a trauma, maybe just some angry fixation, but making someone else pay for his problems wasn't right.

He silently watched Isla scanning his body after noticing the burn holes in his shirt, and momentarily was tempted to say 'like what you see' once again, but bit his tongue instead.
If he didn't watch out this would start to become some sort of running gag.
Not that he'd mind, but maybe this wasn't the right moment for jokes.

Then she suddenly approached and asked if he was okay, clearly worried for his well being, and left him momentarily speechless, mouth agape as his gray eye searched her face for answers. Maybe she was pretending, to somehow appease him by acting like she cared about him as a person?
Stop being so paranoid!
Gods, dealing with vampires for centuries had really screwed with his head, as it seemed.

When she took a step back again, seemingly worried to cross another line, his gaze lowered to the floor and he silently came in, closing the door behind him.
How many different versions of himself were fighting inside him right now...

How was he ever going to be not torn? He felt like the White Lord and Mason, just the human he'd been so long ago, were playing tug of war with him as the rope, forcing him into a constant forth and back between coldness and warmth, vampire and human, ruler and... Friend?
It was hard to differentiate between out there and in here, especially now that he was at war with himself about whether to keep Isla out or allow her in.
But he knew he couldn't make her bear the consequences of his problems, and she didn't exactly seem like 'out there' was a good place for her. No wonder, she was all alone in a world she didn't know.
Back when he had been turned into a vampire, Carden had been there. Had showed him the ropes, how to shapeshift, how to focus his mind to influence the world with nothing but cold, hard want.
He'd been the only constant in his life at that time, and he'd needed that. Else he probably would've gone mental at some point.
Now Isla needed a constant, he could imagine.

And so he pushed himself to do the one thing his past human self would've craved for in a moment like this.

He reached out to Isla and pulled her into a careful hug.
"I'm sorry", he muttered softly before he let go, mustering a small, apologetic smile.
"I... Shouldn't have reacted that harshly and especially not pushed you out like that. I hope I didn't scare or hurt you. Ah, and I-"
He held out the bouquet to her, accompanied by a puppy-eyed smile. "I brought you flowers. As... As an apology. Hence the burn holes... Sunlight doesn't exactly like me."
 
Isla stood there for a while for what seemed like hours of silence. It was deafening. The moment of silence was still when the door closed behind him.

It's so damn quiet.

She sings in her head, silently freaking out. "So..." She starts and tries to wrack her brain for something to say. Truth be told she should apologize for just barging in like that but she was not prepared for this.

Her initial reaction to him pulling her into his arms gently was a surprised gasp, and then a warmth that she didn't know she was looking for spread throughout her body. Her hesitation to hug him back made her too late as he had pulled away and uttered an apology already, then presenting the flowers to her. She bit her lip.

"I'm going to the break room,"
Isla stood from her office cubicle, right in front of Faye and scurried towards the break room, where all the nice snacks and stress-relief items were. Coffee, mainly. The past couple of days had been stressful. The boss had been badgering her so much for that one mistake she did and dumped more work on her than she usually had. She sighed and sat on the quaint chair and table. She didn't really want anything to eat or drink, just some quiet time. She considered calling in fake-sick today. She rarely did that but today was one of those days. To top it off her mother had been non-stop messaging her about how irresponsible she's being by not giving them part of her salary.

Someone came in, she didn't bother to check who it was. But only looked up when she recognized it to be Faye.
"Hey, Isla, you OK?"
Faye asked. Isla opened her mouth to reply only managing to say "I'm--" before tears involuntarily started falling from her eyes. She couldn't understand it. How fragile a person could be. How you held everything together until that one moment when someone decides to ask if you're okay. To know that someone cared enough about your mental well-being to even ask.

She received the flowers, just as droplets of tears stained the petals of the chrysanthemum. "Oh..." she half-whispered in embarrassment and surprise. "I don't..." She wipes her eyes while taking a deep breath, not wanting to fall into hysterics right then and there. "Thank you," she manages to breathe out and force a small smile, eyes still watery. "You didn't have to, it was my fault anyway. I'm sorry, I was just so... lost,"

She rubs her eyes a bit more, feeling slightly better after her mini waterworks and looks at the flowers. "They're beautiful, and a little unusual," she smiles at the selection. Perhaps there was some kind of meaning behind them, but she wasn't well versed in the language of flowers.
 
Diavel hid a content smile upon feeling how Isla seemed to be relaxing in his embrace. He could relate; while he wasn't much of a people person when it came to his own species, he still remembered how, so long ago, when he'd still been nothing but a normal, human young man, a smile or a hug could fix so much. Life had been hard for his family, but they had always been there for each other. When they had closed up the shop after a hard day of work, his father usually headed out into the forest to gather firewood, but their horse had stepped on his foot the evening before, breaking several bones. So he had taken over his tasks to fetch firewood, take care of the horse, helped his mother cook...
He'd been exhausted beyond belief, but when his mother had pulled him into a hug and thanked him for his help, he had been happy. They didn't have much, and life was hard... But they had each other.

"Now now", Diavel said with an understanding smile when Isla teared up.
"Bottled up quite a bit, hm? It's okay..."
Being surrounded only by vampires and werewolves had almost made him forget how fragile humans could be, and strong at the same time. They were remarkable, in a way; so quick to die or get hurt, but still able to deal with some much. Isla certainly had dealt with a lot since she'd appeared here.

Three vampires trying to kill her, a group of fae trying to kill her, encountering various Cryptids she'd thought to be nothing more than scary stories, not to mention being stuck in a completely foreign world with a feared vampire lord who couldn't keep his temper in and a deadly sickness spreading out there.
She really deserved a moment of peace... Maybe, if it'd make her happy, he'd ask her for her favorite dinner and cook it tonight.

"Don't blame yourself, please", he tried to cheer her up and assure her that he didn't blame her, either.
"I've been living in this mansion for so long I sometimes forget how confusing and big it must be for someone who's here for the first time. I could offer you another room, closer to the stairs, if it helps you navigate. I mean, now that we don't really know how long you'll be staying..."

He looked around the room for a moment, pondering over what he could do to make her feel at home here. It was true, neither of them knew how long she'd be staying here, now that the alchemist had proved to be a rather... Untrustworthy person, so making sure that feel welcome and at home would hopefully cheer her up a little.
That's when he noticed the book from yesterday laying on the study table, with a couple of new folds.
"Have you been studying the book?", he asked curiously. "Knowing that it's from the infirmary I guess it's no penny dreadful novel."
 
Isla continued to admire the flowers, raising it up to her nose to get a whiff. It smelled nice and they were really really beautiful. Come to think of it, the last time she got flowers was Valentine's Day a few years ago, when she was still seeing that one guy from work. Didn't last that long though, his true colours weren't too nice. "Yeah...“ She replies when Diavel says she's bottled up quite a bit. "Ugh," she half-groans and dries off the rest of the scattered patches of wetness on her cheeks.

"You scared me though! Honestly!" She huffs and walks over to the table, carefully laying the flowers on top of it. "I'm gunna go and buy a goat from town and leave it out my door just to spite you," She hopes he knew that she was joking, but her small laugh should've been enough evidence of that. She nods her head on his inquiry about the book. "Right, I don't think I told you about it..." She was too tired yesterday to bother about explaining about what transpired but she relayed the whole story to him, about how they encountered the fae folk and them thinking that Isla was a lost soul. The book, and Lilium's warning.

"It's... not something one would read for pleasure," She exclaims. "I was looking... in hopes that there would be some clue about the red plague... But I don't know? Are these remedies trustworthy? It could all just be some sort of made up and fake cures... I am curious to try one of the easier ones though," She flips a bit and points at a page that said "Temporary removal of the unpleasant sensation of passing through walls : for ghosts" there was a mere three ingredients and the instructions weren't lengthy. She moves to another page that said "Reviving a dead plant" which also had an easy three ingredients.

She falls into silence as she suddenly remembers an image of the left side of his face. It seemed like the elephant in the room. That was the whole reason why they got into this small disagreement. She pretends to leaf through the pages. "You know..." she starts, not knowing where she wanted to go with her line of thinking "...I don't have anyone here," she started to feel nervous for some reason. "And because you're the first person who found me... For better or for worse, I just...kind of latch on to that," She stops flipping the pages and closes the book entirely. "But I know that I don't actually know a lot about you, I know that there are a lot of things that I probably wouldn't even understand but... whether you like it or not, unfortunately, it's you that I'm always going to turn to. I don't have anyone else," she repeats. As if emphasizing on the fact that she had no choice. "Of course I'm not gunna bother you a lot, in fact I might try to avoid you just because I don't want to be some kind of nuisance,"

She sighs a little, playing with the spine of the book. "But I decided that I'm not gunna be a nuisance, that's why I've been reading this... I just don't know what I'm looking for, I don't know anything about the red plague."
 
Diavel had still been pondering over the whole story of what exactly had happened at the infirmary and about the two potions she had just showed him receipts of - and which he would definitely try out sooner or later - when he left to look at her dumbfoundedly once again.
Was she having some kind of mental breakdown and was trying to cover it with a cool, detached facade or what in all heck's name was going on here?
Had he somehow stepped into the twilight zone?

Sure, there were plenty of people who'd still be quite distant after two days of knowing each other, but by what he had witnessed till now he didn't expect Isla to be that kind of person.
I mean, just a minute ago she's been seeming to enjoy my hug...
"I-"
No. Nothing. He had absolutely no idea what to reply to that. But he couldn't just keep standing there in baffled silence forever, either.

The worst part however wasn't the utter confusion she'd left him in, but the fact that he, once again, didn't know what was going on in himself.
Every inch of his being was screaming that what she was saying sounded so, so wrong, but he couldn't tell whether that was because she looked like Alice and his subconsciousness just couldn't connect this distant behavior with the image of his dead wife, or because he just liked Isla, as a person, and was starting to see her as a friend, or, well, someone he'd like to be friends with.
And what if he only felt like that because of-
Okay, stop.
Damn it.
He knew there was one way to sort this out, once and for all. And even though he hated to do this, he knew he had to, to finally stop this internal forth and back before he'd go nuts.

I'm sorry, Alice...
He recalled her laugh, the most beautiful he'd ever heard... And didn't care.
He recalled the way she'd pull him down by his collar to kiss him because she was too short... And didn't care.
He recalled her death, how she had died to save him... And didn't care.
A moment. Just a short moment, to find out whether or not she was the reason he enjoyed Isla's company.

The first change he felt was how the guilt disappeared. Yes, she had died for him. That's how it was, and nothing would change that.

But when he saw Isla fumbling around with the spine of the book he didn't feel much different. A little less remorseful, yes, and he wasn't reminded of Alice by basically everything she did, but what she had said still was bull.

A small smile crossed his face at the realization and while he approached her, he let the emotions towards Alice back in.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he bent forwards a little so he could look her straight in the eye as if he was searching for something.
"Are you drunk or something?"
The rhetorical undertone in his voice implied that he was joking.
"I'll only say this once: If you really think that you're just some nuisance I'm afraid I'll have to hug you again until you've understood that you aren't."
He slightly shook his head. "Isla. C'mon. I know I haven't acted appropriately this morning. But that was because it- I-... The past is a powerful weapon, you know what I mean? Can't we just forget the whole 'owing' and this 'nuisance' nonsense and just be friends? Latching included, if it helps you."
He winked at her, hoping to release some of the tension that seemed to have built up within her, and reached over her shoulder to pick up the book.
"And with this, I should be able to help you. Just wanna change real quick, i look disastrous."
 
"Can't we just forget the whole 'owing' and this 'nuisance' nonsense and just be friends? Latching included, if it helps you."

Finally. She breathed out a sigh of relief. She had just wanted someone to say it out loud for confirmation. She smiles up at him, "Don't tell me I didn't warn you, I can be quite a handful," and stubborn, to top it off, evidenced by how much she just didn't want to get in his way, only relenting when he insisted it was alright. She relaxes, at least knowing that he wasn't mad at what had transpired this morning anymore. The flowers were indicative of that but... she was just cautious of any misunderstandings between them.

"Riiiight," Her tone of voice changes to that of mock-suspicion. "Every time I see you, you seem to be showing more and more skin..." She goes back to the memory of yesterday where he'd taken off his coat, leaving him in a shirt. And today, a shirt with holes. Magnificent. "Can't wait to see what it is the next time you knock on my door," she teases lightly.

Once he had changed she asked to go get something to eat. She didn't have an appetite this morning but now that it was all solved and put aside, her stomach was craving for food. "Your little stone statue was nice enough to cook me something this morning but ah... I didn't really eat it," she explains, knowing that he would understand why she didn't feed herself in the morning. "How about you? Did you eat anything?" She asked, and thought about it for a bit more. "Is eating something that you have to do? Or is it one of those strange things again where you don't really need to?" She asked, the question similar to the one she asked about vampires needing to sleep. Of course, it did cross her mind that they probably needed blood more than they did human food, but she wasn't sure how that worked either.
 
"Admit it, sweetheart, you'd love to see me shirtless", Diavel joked before he headed into his bedroom and quickly changed.
Isla's request to get something to eat was a welcome suggestion as he himself hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning, and while he technically could survive without regular food - as far as he knew, at least - an empty stomach still wasn't pleasant. Plus, he loved some good food.

On their way down into the kitchen, he already tied his hair up to make sure it wouldn't fall into the food when Isla asked about vampires and eating.
Good question.
"Hm, that's difficult to answer", he admitted after a moment of thinking about how to explain the concept of vampiric undead-ness.
"Blood. That is absolutely necessary. We'd just... Go out without it, like an oil lamp running out of oil. Regular food on the other hand... Maybe imagine it like, the sensation when your foot falls asleep. It's unpleasant and hinders you in one way or another, but that's about it. As far as I know, at least, personally I don't know a single vampire who doesn't eat. A love for the culinary arts seems to be part of our nature."

It was true, though - cooking was one of the very few things that really took his mind off everything and helped him relax.
For a while he inspected everything the pantry had in store, all the while wondering how people kept their foods fresh. Here it worked with some simple, basic rune magic basically everyone could work, that could freeze time in a certain area.
So what could he cook today? He still had some swordfish filets, the naturally spicy rice from Naphuron, a wide variety of vegetables he could grill... Wouldn't that go well with a good, light white wine sauce?

While he got started with chopping the vegetables, the filets meanwhile grilling in a pan, Diavel half turned towards Isla, curiosity in his eyes.
"So, you want to learn more about the red plague, I assume?"
 
Isla wasn't expecting Diavel himself to cook. She had imagined that only the statue like creatures did the cooking. She walks over to where he was chopping vegetables and bumps hips with him, grabbing the knife from him while he was distracted by the sudden hip bump. "I'll take that," she says and starts chopping the vegetables the way that he did. "I'm not just gunna sit and watch you, you know. Go prep something else," her stubborn side surfaced through, plus, it would be faster with the two of them working on it.

She glances up sideways at him though, noting that he had put up his hair again. "You keep on putting your hair up now, it's rather distracting, you know?" She guessed that it was for sanitary reasons while he was cooking, but she wasn't gunna deny the fact that he just looked different with it tied up. He looked good both ways, with his hair down it was a much more elegant look, with it up, it was a more charismatic look.

"Okay, alright," Isla nodded in understanding about his explanation on food. "So, let's say," she starts, carefully chopping the vegetables, "Let's say I accidentally cut myself and bleed while chopping these vegetables, are you gunna pounce at the smell of blood, or what?" She was genuinely curious.

When he brings up the red plague she simply nods, "Because the book..." They brought the book with them to the kitchen and it was resting on the small dining table in there. "It doesn't list out names of diseases, you know what I mean? Just symptoms," The sound of the knife hitting the chopping board as she continued to slice and the light sizzling of the pan was actually quite comforting. Even just a little bit, those sounds made it feel like home.
 
"... Okay?", Diavel chuckled, slightly surprised, at Isla's sudden burst of confidence. He hasn't seen that coming, she had been so silent and careful till now, and suddenly she just basically made a 180 turn and joked around with him like they had been friends for years.
Seemed like she really had just waited for him to take a clear stand about just what they were.
But he liked it!
He'd just have to watch out not to get too attached... She'd go back to her world, sooner and later, and he'd never been good at dealing with goodbyes.

Leaving the chopping to her, he turned the fish, put the rice in a pot to boil and got started on making the white wine sauce when Isla commented on his hair.
He couldn't help a wide grin from spreading across his face.
"So you do like what you see!", he chuckled, a reference to last evening. It was refreshing, normally people weren't so straightforward and open about whether or not they found someone attractive.
Though he did wonder how the left side of face didn't seem to disturb her.
I always thought Alice was the only one who could ever see that and not be scared or disgusted...

Her question about him 'pouncing' however made him raise one eyebrow critically. Apparently there at least were stories about vampires where she came from, but, eh... To be honest, most of them seemed to be completely nonsense.
"Pounce.", he said doubtfully. "Issie. I'm a vampire, not a cat. I don't pounce."
The whole thing seemed to amuse him quite a bit.
"If you'd happen to cut yourself I'd help you treat the wound, thats what I'd do. Look, If you'd be lost in the wild, you'd hunt to survive, right? But with the markets it's not necessary, you can just go and grab a bite whenever you want."

He headed back into the pantry and soon came back with a crystal carafe containing a suspicious, dark red fluid.
Demonstratively, Diavel poured himself a glass, made a cheers motion and took a sip.
"Remember I told you that you'd be better off staying in Irewood or Athera? That's because, unlike Sigrid and Vesuvia, we have the contact of Eleyson. Every human between sixteen and sixty years of age pays taxes once a month. One carafe of blood, no money. In return, it is forbidden by law to lay hand on a human. We protect them from wild animals, other vampires, everything that would harm them. We don't need to hunt or starve, so our hunting instincts are barely noticeable. Plus, when you're as old as me, you learn to suppress them."

His gaze wandered to the book for a moment as he wondered what curious remedies and treatments were described in it, but he'd ask about that later.
He could imagine that blood and all that already wasn't the most pleasant topic for a human so he'd rather avoid talking about a deadly disease while preparing dinner.
"Oh. I see", he said silently.
Okay, to be honest... It was a difficult topic for him, too. A near death experience that could best be described as pure torture wasn't exactly an enjoyable memory.
His fingers automatically reached up to touch the edge of his mask.
"I'd say... Let's have dinner and maybe go for a walk through the garden afterwards. There we can talk about... That. Okay?"
 
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