“Your kind are ever so. . . unorthodox even amongst each other, so to draw such a conclusion would be expected to untrained eyes.”

“Your irritation counters your point, I’m afraid. I only inspect you to further expand my knowledge of your kind, yet how you hold atteibutes different from it, I come at a crossroads for assumption.”

Sighing, hues of debased composition avert southwards unto the floor afore further communication slips past the suplex brims of the pawn. “It would buy me no love to refer to you as blustering.”

“Though through my supposedly half-witted judgement, I am curious as to how it is you contradict from the typical vampire,” said the myrmidon. Once averted optics finally return the opposing into their line of sight; whatever abrasion that the pawn emanates gradually fades.

“Do not think me as a mortal. I am but a pawn that has much to learnof this world. I have fought many a beast, yet my perception of vampires such as yourself fluctuate to where I am to believe the contrary of them.”

Munching on an apple.

Why does he ogle?

Are mortals that dull of a species?

. . . She is a pawn. She is not human.

A servant of war.

He knows very little.

He sees with the eyes of a child.

Has he something to say?

“Do humor this pawn of what and how the vampiric folk are rather than devourers of human blood.”

The pawn awaits her master’s return.

Wandering.

The pawn enters.

“How long has it been?”

“What has this pawn returned to?”

|| Apologies for my absence. Life got in the way.