BLOODY MARY

      “Then   you’re   not   as   stupid   as   I   would   have   assumed.”   As   bitter   as   they   sounded,   one   could   only   imagine   how   those   words   would   have   tasted   to   the   sharp   tongue   of   the   vampire.   Mary’s   fingers   curled   against   the   hem   of   her   sleeve,   the   smallest   of   fidgets   a   signal   that   perhaps,   there   is   a   glimmer   of   humanity   left   within   those   ageless   bones.   

         Inner   ear   twitches   to   the   sound.   It   is   sweet   and   thumping   with   such   precision.   “You   speak   so   poetically,”   the   brunette   shifts   on   long   legs   to   take   a   seat   next   to   him   much   like   a   moth   would   to   a   flame.   It   brings   her   some   form   of   comfort,   maybe,   to   be   so   close   to   the   sound   of   a   heart   beat.   “I’m   not   sure   I   know   of   much   innocence   anymore.   Ignorance   -   perhaps   I’m   guilty   of   from   time   to   time.”   

   Ice   leaves   its   gilded   cage   with   a   soft   unneeded   exhale.   Even   in   all   her   years,   Maryam   had   a   difficult   time   deciphering   him.   His   promises.   His   threats.   Even   now,   as   his   own   heated   breath   on   the   back   of   her,   tickles   the   nape   of   her   neck,   the   last   thing   the   felt   was   fear.   Stupid,   stupid   girl.   Years   of   cruelty   and   you   still   will   yourself   into   open   snares   like   a   racing   hare.   “If   you’re   trying   to   make   me   fear   you,   you’re   failing.”   

      Her   own   brows   pinch   together   in   apparent   frustration.   To   the   unseeing   eye,   perhaps   the   doe   eyed   brunette   hates   the   sight   of   it.   Would   be   an   easy   enough   excuse   -   for   one   to   shy   away   in   the   face   of   gore   (   no   matter   how   mild   ).   Upon   realizing   how   rude   her   comment   was,   Maryam   shrugged   shoulders   in   a   false   attempt   at   breath;   “I’m   sorry   -   I,”   lips   rub   together   in   lack   of   an   answer.   Fumble.   “Blood   freaks   me   out.   I   didn’t   mean   to   be...   harsh.   Are   you   okay?”   

      “I’m   sure   that’s   not   true,”   pink   lips   purse   before   rolling   together   in   small   exasperation.   “You   are   far   too   hard   on   yourself   -   to   err   is...   human.”   Comforting,   Mary.   

      “Is   that   what’s   brought   you   here?   Fairness?”   The   angel’s   voice   rung   like   a   bell   from   rafter   above.   Stand   still   enough   and   maybe   she   could   be   mistaken   for   another   statue   among   rows   of   headstones.   Pallid   and   unbelievably   sad   looking,   with   a   drifting   sort   of   gaze   that   finally   slipped   in   his   direction.   What   a   curiosity   it   was,   to   be   sought   out.   “I   have   never   been   much   concerned   of   fairness.”   Or,   of   life   for   that   matter.