044:- Late Night Conversations

"You were a High Priest?" Alessio turned droopy gray eyes to him, his smile a little dazed.

The Vampire was seated right beside him, but he leaned even closer, his face propped on an elbow, only a scarce few inches between them.

Silvan placed the glass of wine in his hand on the table - the sight of Alessio made his head spin - adding alcohol to that was a recipe for regret. "Does Your Highness mind?" He asked lightly, reminded of how Luka had addressed him regarding his former title.

Alessio blinked slow, his smile seemed glued to his face. "No. What was it like?"

Silvan didn't take any of Alessio's words to heart, the Vampire was so thoroughly drunk that he would probably not remember their conversation the next morning. "It was deeply fulfilling. Learning and obeying the Saint's precepts, doing the right thing, honoring all life."

His gaze cooled, his expression cold as he stared down at the spacey Vampire Prince in front of him. "You would never understand that."

Alessio sobered up, and it gave Silvan pause, a little part of him bothered by the words he had spoken to him.

"Do you blame me for Eleanor's death?" The Vampire asked, his tone was quiet but urgent, like this had weighed on his mind for quite some time.

Silvan was completely caught off guard, he paled at hearing his sister's name from the Vampire Prince's lips. So surprised that he couldn't pull himself together to come up with a response.

"You know, I don't fancy most people, a glass of wine and my bed is the best company I could ask for." Alessio went on when he didn't speak. The Vampire spoke clearly, it seemed like he was completely lucid.

"I made a lot of effort to gain your approval because of Eleanor. I'll accept my blame in her death," Sadness suffused his voice now, his beguiling gray gaze dropping to the table. "But I truly respected her. I have several of her lifetimes ahead of me, but she would have had to give all of hers. I know I don't deserve to grieve her, I just wanted to know one thing…"

Silvan listened to Alessio speak without breathing, his long-held beliefs constricting his throat.

"...if she was the same as she was in her paintings." Alessio reached for a bottle of wine, foregoing a goblet this time.

Silvan was glued to his seat as he watched Alessio rise to his feet and walk off. Unlike the composure the Vampire had shown during their conversation, he staggered a bit, nearly losing his balance, the crystal trinkets in his hair catching the lights.

In the brief moments he sat down, the realization once again that Vampires were not the unfeeling, soulless creatures he was taught to believe hit like a splash of cold water.

Eleanor… He had seen the paintings that had been sent to Vallyn. It was one of the few times she was allowed outside. She had posed in their mother's gardens, her smile serene and patient. Silvan had kept her company.

He had felt that no painter could perfectly capture the serenity she exuded. She was more suited to be a follower of Kalla than he was. But the painter had done well enough.

Silvan rose to his feet and went off after the Vampire who walked slowly through the almost empty hall, slouching as he did, like he carried a heavy weight. He caught up easily, his expression perfectly composed.

"You shouldn't drink any more." He said quietly. He didn't offer a hand, but he remained by his side, wary of the Vampire losing his balance.

"But you negotiated today for me with Mother, Silvan." Alessio countered lightly, his smile back on his face. "I have to make the most of it."

Silvan didn't quite know what to say to this, still reeling from Alessio's earlier words. His murky blue-green eyes watched the odd Vampire as they walked down long winding hallways. He had forced himself to get along with Alessio to honor his sister's death, but the longer he spent around him, the less the other's company felt like duty.

He stopped in front of his rooms, worry in his eyes for the first time as he gazed down at Alessio. He hesitated slightly, Alessio seemed like he was in complete control and at the same time not at all.

Alessio had already started for his room, crystal accessories swaying with his black hair, then he noticed that Silvan hadn't gone into his room. He paused then, turning around. "Would you mind my company for a little while longer?"

Silvan agreed a little hastily, telling himself that he was merely keeping an eye on Alessio to make sure he didn't drink any more. He held open the door to invite the Vampire in, his gaze dropping as the scent of jasmine and red wine filled his lungs when Alessio walked past him.

"Your room is just like mine," Alessio noted lightheartedly, flopping down on the couch.

Silvan paused at the door, starting to realize that he hadn't quite thought things through. What would they do in his rooms? He glanced down at Alessio who was half laying on his couch, his hair splayed out, ruby teardrop gem leaning to the side.

He calmly closed the door behind him and walked forward, taking off his overcoat. "Eleanor was just like her paintings." He started, pausing before correcting. "Not entirely, the paintings couldn't capture the goodness abundant in her person."

Some clarity came back to Alessio's eyes. He sat up and uncorked the wine he had brought, pouring the red wine into a goblet. "Please tell me a little bit about her if you wish." His tone was respectful, devoid of expectations.

Silvan sat on an adjacent couch in just his waistcoat, his dim gaze riveted on the spilling wine. It still made him think of blood but now he was less averse to the thought. "She was lively despite being born sickly…" He started quietly, leaning back with a silent sigh.

"She was confined to the castle for most of her life but it didn't taint her smile. What she wanted were the things that even the lowliest peasants took for granted…" As Silvan spoke, it seemed like he needed this even more than Alessio did, his body growing lighter.