The first sign of movement from him was a small tilting of his head and bushy brows knit themselves together. Was the volcano talking to him? Or was it the river? Somehow it made perfect sense to him that they would speak with words he didn't understand, but why had they never tried before?
He blinked slowly as he heard words again, but this time, he realised that he did understand and a small smile brightened his features. It was not the volcano though, or the river, or even his own mind this time. There was another nearby and he turned to look in their direction, his eyes still cast a little downward. He saw the stone first, turning between pale fingers and his smile grew into a grin, showing sharp fangs.
The man was a tree, he thought, as his gaze traveled up to meet his face; it wasn't often that he met someone taller than him. "Hello." He said automatically before he considered his question again. "Not lost, no..." His gaze turned back toward the curling steam for a moment, his lips still pulled into that wide grin. "The earth is thin here." He finished as if that were the most logical explanation for his presence.
Ah. English. But it wasn't American English. Not British either. Vasilii tried to place the accent for several long minutes, and then gave up. Some vampires spent their eternities traveling the world and immersing themselves in culture, others amassed towering libraries where they read until dawn drove them back to the darkness, but he paid very little attention to people and places that did not belong to him. Besides, talking, story books, watching people dance around on stages, those were all the hobbies of women. Geography and accents, therefore, were also things for women to know. And he was a man.
"Earth is earth. Below her," He struggled for the words. He'd learned English for Oskar years ago, and he'd kept practicing in hopes of one day being reunited with his children. But fluency required more than just practicing broken conversations to himself as he worked the forge. Vasilii grunted and once more, gave up. "More earth."
The stone fell back down into the river with a plop, and Vasilii uncurled like a massive spider coming back to life. He could have smiled in solidarity, shown is own fangs, but he'd never quite mastered the art of smiling. It always looked like some terrible grimace---more threat than comfort. He managed a sniff and a small nod of mild approval.
"Few come here." He said, his voice a low murmur alongside the rumble of the volcanic veins in the ground below. "Few people. Few vampires. Why have you come?"
English was certainly not his first language but he understood enough of it that it made sense to him and caught his attention when he heard it. His accent however, was quite difficult to identify, seeming like a strange mix of multiple nationalities. Of course, it was almost impossible to identify that it came from an entirely dead language.
More earth... This man's words made him frown a little, because to his knowledge there was a great deal more below their feet than just earth. He wanted to argue the matter, to point out all the wonderful things he knew lingered underground, but now he wondered if he was wrong about that. He did get confused about things sometimes.
His thoughts were cut off when he heard the splash of the stone returning to the river and his eyes automatically snapped in that direction, quickly becoming distracted again with watching the flow of the water and the way the moonlight glistened on it.
Once again it was the others voice that brought his attention back, though this time he was frowning thoughtfully as he sought his answer. "I walked very far, for very long. I see many places, but this one I like. There is..." He paused, his mind working hard to try to find the word he was looking for, but in the end he motioned vaguely toward the plume of steam with one large hand. "Heat." He said finally, giving up on finding a more appropriate word.
"Soon there is sun." He grumbled, looking at the faint pink line on the horizon. The man looked strangely lost, as if the smallest things like the ripple of water or curl of smoke could lead him miles away. It reminded him of his daughter. But his solnyshka was made for the light, she thrived in its glow like a sapling ever reaching for the sky. This vampire would not enjoy the kiss of the sun nearly as much, and Vasilii worried that without help, he would not make it to shelter before it rose and turned him to ash. They had an hour of starlight left at most.
He had never tried his hand at enduring the sunlight, and he rarely missed it anyway. The witches had magic that could make a room look and feel like the sun was blazing over head; the priests had made one just for him. He'd hated it. Too bright, too hot, and completely no point. He couldn't stomach that sort of frivolity. If he hated a pretend sun that much, he was sure the real one would be significantly worse. It didn't matter. He liked the moon and its gentle glow.
"My house there." He pointed a long, practically clawed finger, up the hill to his cottage. "My forge warm. Come. Come away from sunlight, and I will find food for us."
He made a grumbling kind of groan at the mention of the coming sun; that was certainly a heat he did not enjoy, though these days he thought of it more as an annoyance, interrupting his adventures. If it weren't for the sun, or his hunger, he likely would have stayed there for days, perhaps even longer, just listening to whatever stories the mountains and the river wanted to tell him.
But even for him, hiding in a house was far more attractive than hiding in the dirt, and if he really considered it, he wouldn't even have been able to remember the last time he'd spent much time in an actual house. What really convinced him however, was a singular word that stole his attention entirely and left him staring intently in the direction he pointed. "Forge? You have forge. I would like to see." He was grinning again now, his expressions shifting unnaturally with his sudden changes in emotion and without waiting for any further invitation, he started up the slope, following the curve of the river as if he knew exactly where he was going.
