Soren's past (part two)
Azrael laughs fiendishly at my remarks, knowing that despite my accusatory words, he was not the only one to be feasting on the blood of the Folk last night. carefully, he moves his hand to pat my shoulder, then seeing the look on my face thinks better of it, recoiling back into himself.
"Well, I like to have my fun. Besides, I could say the same about you, brother. How many nymphs was it you drained? Five? Ten?"
"Fifteen." I tell him, picking at my black nails absently, not bothering to catch the look of surprise that plays on his face. A faint quiver of jealousy runs through his heart, pulsing through him for a second before being replaced by a suffocating tranquillity. Of course, these feelings are not unknown to my brother. There have been many a day in the past where he has accompanied me hunting, each time playing the same as the last: boasting a scarlet prince and a white haired vampire who falls just short of his brothers achievements.