A Cryptic Conversation

For some reason Lem had no real understanding of, Lady Nassau didn't do anything about his apparently too-impressive daggers. Instead, after the two of them stared at one another for a dangerously long moment, she had waved him off and thanked knowledge Dav for his swiftness in finding her a weapon.

Then, she had ordered Lem to stand outside her room and watch for intruders, a task that was so mundane that Lem almost thought he'd misheard her. Given the recent attack against her father, surely if there was a threat that remained present in the manor, it would have been wiser for her to order him to remain close to his master. But perhaps Lady Nassau had a greater level of paranoia about what a sufficiently motivated Thrall could accomplish than the average vampire of the Blood. Grudgingly, Lem had to admit he respected that; a bit of healthy paranoia was what had kept him alive all these years.

But just because he respected her wariness didn't mean that Lem actually liked his new master. Especially not one who was forcing him to do something akin to menial labor from basically the minute she came to power. Fighting the urge to sigh, Lem made his way out of the Lady of the manor's personal chambers, and stood at attention just outside the bedchamber doors. He stood there until his legs began to tingle with weariness, kept only vaguely entertained by the gentle flickering of the candles ensconced along the corridor in each direction.

It didn't take long for Lem to find himself in the throes of nigh-intolerable boredom, once more deeply longing for his bed, now so many floors below where he stood. He even found himself longing for the cold and dreary lower levels of the manor, where at least he was allowed to sleep in relatively uninterrupted peace. Now, though, he didn't even have that possibility to fall back on. He was rebellious for a Thrall, but that didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. No matter how tired he was, even if he was of a mind to sleep at his post, he was unable to do so. This was because he'd been commanded to keep watch by his master. He couldn't follow her command while he was asleep, and so the mark on his forehead burned angrily every time his eyelids grew too heavy, or his muscles began to grow lax. Lem endured several hours of sleepless watching, spotting the occasional scurrying form of another thrall at the end of one or the other of the distant corridor intersections. Eventually, the sounds of footsteps began to settle, and he knew that the resident thralls, too, were making their way to their beds in order to sleep the daylight hours away.

Lem, however, did not have anyone with whom to change shifts, and so he was not able to return to his bed, or even a poor substitute for one. Instead, he continued to stand, his legs aching, vaguely grateful that at least he wasn't bleeding, though the bruises and stiffness he endured as a result of his round of combat were hardly a delight as he stood, stock-still, outside the door of Lady Nassau's private chambers. He was still standing beside the door, fully assured that the sun had now risen, when the door to the room opened and Lady Nassau stepped out.

She startled a little, seeing him beside the door. "Oh!" she said, "Weapon…"

She'd already forgotten his name. Lem didn't take it personally. The Blood were not the sorts of creatures to trifle with things as beneath their notice as the names of their thralls. "Lem, my Lady," he said.

"Weapon Lem," Lady Nassau had the sort of look about her that Lem thought might be embarrassment. Vampires didn't blush, since their blood wasn't the same color or consistency as human blood. But if the Lady had been capable of blushing, Lem was almost certain she would have been. "You're still here."

"You told me to stand guard," Lem said, now feeling a bit peeved.

"Right," Lady Nassau said, and then giggled nervously. Giggled! Lem wasn't sure what to do. The Blood did not giggle, and especially not at their thralls.

"Lady Nassau," Lem said, desperately hoping there was a rational explanation for her odd behavior - perhaps she'd been drugged? - asked a question that he hoped would not be seen as too presumptuous. "Are you well?"

"Am I well?" Lady Nassau repeated back to him, and then sighed, leaning against the wall on the other side of the doorway from Lem. "I'm not sure," she said. "I'm not used to being seen."

Lem wasn't sure what she meant by that. "Being… seen?"

"I used to spend most of my time outside my room after the sun rose," she said, staring at the ceiling rather than looking at Lem. "To… avoid detection, I suppose." She turned then, her eyes landing on Lem as she flashed him a smile that hovered between sweet and wicked, her fangs glinting in the flickering candlelight from the sconces that lined the walls. "I'm still getting used to him being gone."

Lem felt his heart drop into his stomach, a knot forming in his intestines as he quietly whispered. "...him?"

Lady Nassau's lips slid back over her deadly teeth and she turned to gaze down the hallway, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Father."

Lem shivered a bit, thinking of the late Lord Nassau. It didn't slip his notice that a similar shudder seemed to work its way down Lady Nassau's spine, too.

"I don't miss him," Lady Nassau said softly, still gazing down the long empty corridor. Her voice was almost wistful. "But I don't know what to do without him here, telling me what to do."

Part of Lem thought he understood that feeling, or might, if he could ever know what it was like not to be under orders of some sort. He wasn't sure what he'd do, if he wasn't constantly under the thumb of the controlling sigil seared into his forehead. Well, except sleep. Lem never got as much sleep as he wanted.

Lady Nassau turned then, her blood-red eyes fixing on Lem as she said, "Does that make me a bad daughter?"

No, Lem thought dimly, just a bad vampire.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Lady Nassau tilted her head slightly, and then sighed. "You should sleep, weapon Lem," she said. "We both should."

Then, without another word, she turned and slipped down the hallway, so close to Lem as she passed him that he could smell something sharp and metallic wafting off of her. It didn't smell like blood, or iron, though.

Lem didn't know for sure, because he was never allowed access to it, but if he had to hazard a guess, he would have said that the thing Lady Nassau smelled of…

…was silver.