For company

"I was born around a time when learning combat skills and the art of fighting was more vital than any other form of art," Silas guided Arabella towards the curtained area of the room, "I still managed to find time for other hobbies, nonetheless. As the saying goes, when one truly wants something, they'll always find a way," he stopped to pick a small wooden vase that he rotated between his fingers, in front of his eyes. 

Arabella too halted in order to intently watch his doings. Her eyes were strictly on that same little vase being spun in the vampire's hand.

After a few seconds, he set the piece in its previous spot and laid a gentle hand on Arabella's back which caused a spark to shoot up her spine. 

Hearing the fuss her heart was making; Silas immediately removed his hand and pushed the curtains out of their way.

Mouth a little agape, Arabella no longer knew where to land her eyes as from big to small, from high to short, many more wooden pieces stared back at her, all carved in different styles, neatly stacked next to each other. 

"So, this is your workshop," the young woman blurted before considering her words.

"It is my room,"

Arabella's eyebrows furrowed while her gaze traveled around the place, seeking proof that the room served any other purpose besides a workshop. Aside from a door at the other end of the room, she found none, concluding his bedroom must have been behind it.

"Oh! It is nice to have your bedroom right next to your workshop," she nodded, smiling.

"This is my bedroom," 

The words to express herself failed her after his statement as her eyes simply had to have another round of searching for… A bed… only to find the lack thereof one. 

A nervous chuckle escaped her, "I assumed your bedroom was behind that door," 

Her expression spoke on her behalf, sparing her unnecessary efforts in the process, "That door leads to a bathroom," said Silas.

"I suppose the lounge chair is as big as comfortable, but I must apologize then since the last time I've been here I've hogged it and-"

"I don't sleep," he uttered in the driest tone afforded, and glared at her, awaiting her reaction.

A reaction that came quick as her eyes snapped his way, once more, forgetting what blinking was meant for.

"You do not…," she muttered. 

He looked away, allowing his feet to amble deeper into the room, in between the sculptures, "My body has never had any need for sleep," he said.

"Is it yet another mutation?" 

She remained rooted in her spot, waiting for the answer with bated breath while Silas grazed the surface of a few pieces with his fingers along his path. 

"That the doctors know of, yes," his voice was barely above whispering range. 

"Well then, you have more time than most. I don't know whether to envy that or to…," 

The last words of her sentence latched onto her throat the moment her brain registered what they meant. 

She'd spoken without taking a second to think things over and thus took a sharp breath and bit her tongue. 

"To pity me?" 

To her dismay, Silas read through her like the open book she was and finished the line for her.

fists clenched over her fluttering heart, Arabella shook her head profusely, "No! I would never dare!" 

"Then perhaps you should dare," 

The young woman could've sworn the ghost of a smile had fleetingly appeared on his features before his usual, impassive demeanor took over. 

"Pardon?" 

Her little mutter went unanswered as Silas had already turned his attention to a different matter, "Tell me, what do you know of cultures?" he looked at the sculptures surrounding them.

In response, she first hummed, then after studying the woodcarvings once anew, Arabella spoke, "My knowledge on cultures is quite limited to the snippets comprised in history books," she paused before continuing, "Though, I can tell that some of these sculptures are supposed to represent different time periods," the young woman walked straight towards a specific table and pointed at the pieces occupying its surface with both hands, "For instance, I know that these pots are reminiscent of the era that preceded the great war as both the sun and a croissant moon are carved hollow onto their surface,"

For a good moment, Silas made no sound and merely watched the woman with judging eyes but seeing that the color of her face had started to shift, he decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Let us head back to the other side of the room," 

And through the curtains they went again.

"Take a seat," he ordered. 

Arabella made her way towards the lounge chair and settled her behind upon its cushy surface.

Hands clasped together on her lap, she stalked each and every move he made as the drumming of her heart refused to remain in the background.

The spike in the number of beats it made within its cage did not go unnoticed by Silas, "What's the matter?" 

"Well," she fiddled with her fingers, looking down, "It hasn't been two weeks since the last feeding and I simply wondered if my body could withstand another session this early," her voice trembled a tad throughout her sentence.

"Worry not," he walked towards the canvas by the desk, "I have not summoned you here tonight to feed. I'd like you to recite a few poems out loud as I work," velvety and kind his voice was as he sat down, picked a tool and turned to the wooden board in front of him.