@mikhailxcao
There had been a burial the day before, and there was another that very morning, then there would be another tomorrow, and two more the day after, then so on and so forth. For as long as August had lived in Ashbourne it had been this way, he was used to seeing dead flesh, he was accustomed to spirits wailing in the night. He was even used to the nightmares, for the most part, anyways. August still woke up nightly in a damp sweat, tormented by the tree just as everyone else was. But every time he did, after the initial fear that accompanied waking from a nightmare passed, he was revitalized with a burning ambition to get the fuck out of this town.
There were many people who probably shared this sentiment with August, but he’d met none that felt this as fervently as Mikhail. The vampire seemed unaware as to just how long he’d been here, but by all accounts, that meant a long ass time. While the nature of their relationship wasn’t exactly friendly, it was necessary, and one that was mutually beneficial for both parties.
As previously mentioned, there had been a funeral that morning and while the light had long faded from the sky above, August was still prepping the front foyer for the viewing tomorrow when there was a rapping at the door. He was tired, and he’d planned on spending the night studying magic circles in 18th century blood rituals but his evening plans were spoiled the moment a familiar presence began to approach the home. Before Mikhail could get close enough to knock on the door or ring the buzzer, the entrance opened of its own accord and August, already preparing to head out, called from the library, “I’m back here.”
