#thread: stranger

Every night before turning in, Alistair walked Brutus. Not as a guide dog but as a normal dog. Well, as normal as a familiar can get, anyway. Brutus was off duty, which meant he was free to sniff at the ground to his heart's content. Alistair had a mobility cane in his other hand to ensure he wouldn’t ram himself into anything. It wasn’t the most graceful walk, but got the job done. Brutus knew better than to tug on his lead, making the walk all the smoother for Alistair. As they walked through the streets of Oldtown, Alistair couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. Occasionally, he would stop and cast a spell, causing Brutus’s head to swivel around as he used his familiar’s eyes to see the world around him. A woman stalked behind him, peeking behind buildings and slinking into shadows. This wasn’t good.

Deciding he had no choice, he stopped walking, causing Brutus to go into a patch of grass and sniff around. “I know you’re following me,” Alistair’s voice cut through the nighttime air like a blade. He swung his cane around him, and it made contact with someone’s foot. “Ah, so you decided to come out and play.” He gave a terse smile, bringing his cane up so he could rest his chin on the hilt of it. “So what is it? Serial killer? Vampire? Zombie? Fae gone wild?” He asked, knowing that she wasn’t merely following him. He’d been around the supernatural block enough times to know when he was being hunted. “So what’s it to be? We talk like civilized folk, or you tear me limb from limb.” He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Or you try to sell me something.”

___________________________________________________________

It had been a miserable few days. 

Well, in reality she’d been having a miserable few days since the middle of summer, but Zofia wasn’t about to get into the semantics of it with herself. Instead she chased distractions. Things to remind her while she might not have a pulse, she was still alive. Perhaps more alone than she’d previously been. But perhaps alone wasn’t entirely terrible. Perhaps. Perhaps it would just take time to get used to being alone. While she waited for some sign from the universe that she’d acclimated to alone-ness, she threw herself at the world with reckless abandon. 

Of course, throwing herself at life with open arms didn’t mean that life swept her up in a loving embrace. No, no, instead she was reminded how irritating and harsh things could be. A car had driven too close to a puddle and sloshed a heap of icy water onto her. Her drifting from bar to club to bar in the hopes that it would spark something only sparked the urge to bite a man in retaliation for bumping into her and refusing to apologize. Leaving him semi conscious in an alley missing a pint or so of blood seemed like a good way to teach him a lesson. Wiping the blood from her lips as she walked away, something across the street caught her eye. And for the first time in quite some time, a feeling she was almost certain could be described as ‘joy’ crept up on her. 

Across the street there was a dog. 

Well. A man, and a dog. But the dog was the important bit. The dog happily led the way, tail wagging along. Having nothing better to do with her night, she decided to follow them. She frowned, realizing the hour. Most people probably wouldn’t walk up to a stranger in the dead of night asking to pet their dog, so she decided she ought not to. After all, she was a monster, but that didn’t have to make her an asshole. Did following a dog from a distance count as being an asshole? 

Walking along, she tucked herself in shadows and alleys and watched as the dog led the way. And then all at once, they stopped moving. 

Zofia’s brow rose as the cane around until it met her foot. Well this would prove entertaining, at least. A laugh rumbled in her throat like a cats purr. “Why must I be something that goes bump in the night?” She asked, amused. She wouldn’t deny it. “What if I just happened to be heading the same way?”

A roll of her eyes and she walked a few steps ahead, continuing along the path he’d been on before turning back to look at him. “Tearing people limb from limb isn’t my specialty. We can talk.” She wasn’t entirely certain she counted as civilized any more, but he didn’t need to know that part. “I could sell you something if you want. What would you want? If I were selling something?”

___________________________________________________________

Sensing no real danger, Brutus walked over to Zofia, sniffed her hand, and then licked it. Feeling the lead moving toward the figure, Alistair let out a sigh. It seemed like he would lose this battle; his dog had decided for him. “Well, if you’re not a creature of the night, perhaps you’re just a weirdo?” He spoke, the end of the sentence becoming more of a question than a statement. “His name is Brutus.” He added, bringing his cane back down and swiveling it until it gently hit Brutus’s hind legs. “He’s usually a guide dog, but he knows he’s not working right now. Night off and all that.” 

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the figure before him made him uneasy. Something about how her tone sounded, as if she were perpetually on the edge. On the edge of what, he hadn’t a clue. He didn’t bother to give his name, didn’t bother to inquire about hers. He didn’t make friends, even if people like Milo would beg to differ. “Jus’ sayin’, mos’ people don’ go sneakin’ ‘round to catch glimpses of another’s dog. At night. Where no one is around to see.” His Scottish accent slipped in the more uneasy he grew, giving himself away undoubtedly. 

The woman’s voice was a purr but also had an edge. Truly catlike, like a large cat preparing to strike. To say his attention wasn’t drawn would be to tell a lie. He was curious. He wanted to know more. Instead, Alistair answered her question. “Well, if there are no limitations to what you sold, it would probably be for magical eyeglasses that make me see again.” He pulled the sunglasses off his face, revealing hazel brown eyes that didn’t meet her gaze. A burn scar extended over his right eye, extending over the bridge of his nose. There was a reason (besides the light sensitivity) that he kept his sunglasses on. “What about you? What would you want?”

___________________________________________________________

The dog came over to lick her hand, and all at once Zofia decided her streak of miserable days was at an end. She sank down to crouch to the dogs height, gently scratching between his floppy ears. “Kto jest dobrym, małym szczeniakiem? Czy to ty? Myślę, że to jest!” She cooed, a broad grin taking over her expression. For once in quite some time, she’d gotten precisely what she wanted. Even if it was something as silly as petting a dog. Maybe that was the key. She could set impossibly low expectations, and be delighted when they were met. 

“Why are the two things mutually exclusive? Could I not be both? Or neither?” She asked, looking up at the stranger, taking him in. Tall. Red hair. An accent peaking through his words. And clearly in the know about the things that prowled the streets of Wicked’s Rest. Who was he? Or better yet, what was he? There was definitely a pulse there, so he wasn’t undead… curious. 

“Oh, he’s a professional!” She continued to pet the dog, wishing she’d had some magical foresight to bring dog treats. “Hello Brutus, it’s good to meet you. I’m Zofia. You’re a handsome young man, aren’t you? So well behaved.” She talked to the dog, perfectly content in her one sided conversation. 

There was that accent of his, creeping through. Scottish, from the sound of it. “Maybe I’m just a night owl, mister…?” She trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blank place where his name should go.

He removed his glasses and the puzzle pieces slotted together. They were nice eyes, focused on nothing just over her shoulder. And the scar… there was a story there. Her hand paused on her wrist, absently rubbing where they’d been bound for months.  Zofia’s mouth tugged down into a frown as she thought. “That’s a good question. I’m not so sure anymore.”

___________________________________________________________

Brutus began wildly wagging his tail, knocking Alistair’s cane right out of his hand from the force of it. “Oh, good goin’, Brutus.” He complained, sinking onto his knees to feel around for where the cane had gone, realizing it was nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, he raised his head toward the woman speaking a language he didn’t understand. “Would you mind helping me out?” He asked– a small test to see if she truly wasn’t going to kill him. 

“Oh yeah, perfectly well-behaved until he takes out my only way of seeing without him.” He grumbled to himself, standing back up, feeling a bit stranded. “Alistair,” he spoke when her statement trailed off into a question, reaching for a name. “Well, as you’re now my dog’s new best friend, you should probably introduce yourself to him. Only seems fair.” He sighed, gripping Brutus’s leash a little tighter, knowing that if it came to it, Brutus would get him home.

He listened to the woman’s voice become quieter as if it were elsewhere. She didn’t know. Brutus laid down on the sidewalk, tail still wagging about, happy as could be. “It’s alright not to know.” He said, shrugging his shoulder with his head tilted toward it. “Some of the most interesting people I know have no idea what they’re doing with their lives.” He paused, remembering after he lost his sight. He had no idea what to do with his life. His family had already cast him out for leaving. “I guess I’m saying it’s okay to be lost. Just remember to find yourself again after a while.”

___________________________________________________________

A clatter and a swear and Zofia watched the cane roll just out of the man’s reach. She reached a hand out to stop it from rolling off into the road. At his request, she guided it back to his waiting hand. Brutus’s happy tail kept on wagging, but she kept a closer eye, making sure his tail didn’t send the man’s cane skittering off again. 

“Well you can blame me for that. He’s too sweet to get the blame. Is he always this friendly?” Maybe she should get a dog. Not this dog, obviously. She couldn’t steal a guide dog. If it had been a regular dog, she might have at least entertained the thought. “Oh I’m his best friend now? That was easy.” She was a dog’s best friend now. At least she was someone’s best friend. The dog probably wasn’t scared it would become a midnight snack. “Lovely to meet you, Alistair. I’m Zofia. Zofia Kowalska.” Gods, how long had it been since that name had past her lips in an introduction? It felt like lifetimes. But it felt right for now. Sofie simply didn’t fit any longer. 

It took a minute for her mind to register he’d spoken, a minute longer for her mind to interpret what she’d heard. Echoes of “been to hell but you’re back now” skittered through her mind, interrupting Alistair’s words. She realized her face had gone slack. Zofia couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit grateful the man couldn’t see her with her void expression. “Well I know tonight I wanted to pet Brutus. So today I got what I wanted. I’ll circle back to you once I figure out what I’d like to buy.”

___________________________________________________________

He nodded his head in thanks as the cane was returned into his hand. “I appreciate it,” he spoke as he decided to choose his words carefully. One never knew in a town such as this. Brutus made no move to jump on her, but his excitement was palpable. “You know, he always makes a habit of going for the people that need him most,” Alistair remarked with a knowing smile. “I run The Sugar Pot. I live above it if you ever need an ear.” He hadn’t a clue why he was telling her this, but something in him felt a need to help.

“Zofia,” he spoke aloud, feeling the word out on his tongue. “A pleasure to meet you, now that I know you’re not going to eat or trap me and take me somewhere sinister.” Alistair screwed his mouth shut, realizing that’s what he did to people. For some reason, he felt a kindred spirit in Zofia. “Also, I don’t think Brutus would like it very much if he never got to see you again.” What was he saying? See this woman again? He didn’t make a habit of forming relationships with anyone anymore, but here he was, suddenly turning a new leaf. His therapist would be proud; he couldn’t help but think to himself. 

The dog watched Zofia curiously when she didn’t respond right away, and it caused Alistair to shift uncomfortably. He could see now that she wasn’t alright now that he was seeing her through the gaze of his familiar.  “You know,” he began to say. “If you need someone to talk to about anything going on, I… I’m just walking my dog right now. I don’t have any other plans.” Well, he’d set it. It was out in the open whether she wanted to accept his invitation. Part of him was hoping she wouldn’t, but it was too late for that now. 

___________________________________________________________

She was reminded of another time. Of hands she’d held out to people like her. Perhaps she’d earned some kindness from all the kindness she’d given. Perhaps she’d wasted that kindness in recent days. 

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, plink, plink, plink.

Zofia flinched away from the phantom noise, focusing on the soft fur beneath her hand. “Don’t they say animals are like their owners?” She asked, looking back to the man. “He looks for people that need kindness. And here you are offering strangers an ear.” 

She snickered, scratching the spot between his ears that Brutus seemed particularly fond of. “I won’t eat you.” The smirk was evident in her voice. “But if you ask very nicely I might bite.” She teased. “Well I can’t possibly deprive myself of my dear new friend Brutus. What is The Sugar Pot? Coffee? Tea? A bakery?”

She stooped over to press a kiss to the dogs snout. He really was a good dog. “Alistair, mój przyjaciel, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It’s a long, long story.”

___________________________________________________________

The dog continued to watch Zofia, and suddenly, Brutus looked away, back in his own control. Alistair walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what she had gone through, but he could hazard a guess that it wasn’t anything good. His voice was soft and understanding. “No one was around to listen to my shit when I needed it. I try to be there for others as a result.” He explained, then let the hand drop. “Come on, I’ll show you the way to the shop.” He spoke as he started to walk in the direction of his store, Brutus happy to continue on his walk toward home.

“It’s a tea shop. I can make you something quick if you’d like. We’re closed at this point, but. I make the rules when it’s my own business, you know? Come on, on me.” As they walked, Alistair listened to the woman's footsteps behind him, curious about her story. In truth, he was about just as nosy as he was worried about her mental status. No one got into helping people without being a little nosy. 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” Alistair joked as Brutus turned toward the shop door. “I don’t make a habit of picking stray people up off the street, by the way.” He felt the need to add. His cane hit the door of the shop, and then he brought his hands up to the door handle, a key appearing in his hand, and he unlocked the door as easily as he could. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hanging around on the streets, by the way.” He had seen her clothes. They were tattered and smelled. He could have smelled her coming, if nothing else. “Where’s home?” He asked, a hint of worry in his tone. 

___________________________________________________________

She startled as his hand found her shoulder. Zofia didn’t think he’d be able to find her so quickly. But she’d heard things over the years about how losing senses could heighten others. Maybe he just happened to have a lucky guess. Alistair didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing on his way home. The vampire paused and watched him curiously. It would be all too easy for her to use his kindness against him. Take advantage of his lack of sight and sink her teeth in when he wasn’t expecting it. But he invited her along. She rose to her full height and followed him. 

It was strange to be on the receiving end of this. How many times had Sofie DuPont herded those down on their luck into her care? Zofia tried not to think about it, focusing instead on matching the pace Brutus trotted at, and keeping her senses peeled for any creature that might take advantage of a blind man on the street at night. Or any hunters looking to finish what they’d started…

“You don’t have to do all this, really.” She said following a few steps behind as he led her up the stairs to his shop. A cup of tea sounded like a luxury though, one she hadn’t savored in far too long. “But you’ll make the exception for people your dog likes?” The humor in Zofia’s voice died quickly when he asked about her lodging situation. Cassius hadn’t lied. Her apartment had been repossessed, and all her things, her centuries worth of belongings were just. Gone. Her livelihood, her memories. Of course Cassius had managed to save some, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go the them to retrieve them. And it wasn’t as though she had anyplace to stay at the moment. She was adrift. The noise crept in around the edges, and she let out a soft, crazed laugh. “It’s complicated. It was Poland. It was Paris. It was everywhere. And then it was a little apartment in nightfall grove… and now something new is in order.”

___________________________________________________________

“I know I don’t have to,” he answered as he shut the door behind them. The lights were off, and he didn’t bother to turn them on. An old habit. “But I’m doing it anyway.” The tables with chairs had been turned over onto the tables, signifying a closed shop. Every shelf had been fully restocked before close, rows of spices and herbs labeled in English and braille. It wasn’t the most luxurious tea shop, but it was his. Alistair prided in what he and his business partner had put together. 

He left Zofia in the closed up shop as he walked behind the counter and turned on the electric kettle. In truth, he snuck down into the shop on late nights Alastair couldn’t sleep. He kept the kettle down there for that specific purpose. He dropped Brutus’s lead, and it left the large dog all too happy to trot over to his dog bed in the corner of the shop and curl up in it, an unspoken command that he was all too happy to follow. As the water heated, he listened to the woman’s laugh. It told a story of pain, one he understood all too well. “So that’s what that language was,” he murmured as he felt around under the counter at the braille lettering, finally coming across the right container. He plucked out a lavender tea, then put two tea bags into the cups he had pulled out. 

Alistair hummed as she spoke, nodding his head. “Well-traveled then.” He noted as he picked the hot kettle up and placed his hand onto the cups, gauging their distance. Once the kettle hit the side of the cup, he removed his hand and poured in the water. A small device had been hooked onto the side of the cup that started to beep when the water hit it, it was how he knew when to stop pouring. He removed the device and placed it onto the second cup and repeated the process. Once he was done, he put the kettle back where it belonged and picked up the two cups and brought them to the table in the middle of the store with two arm chairs on either side. He could navigate around the store well enough without help; he knew the layout well. 

He pulled out his phone and it immediately began to speak to him. It was rapid fire as it spoke. “Home Screen. Messages. Melody.” It stopped speaking. “Text Melody.” He spoke into the phone. “Texting Melody.” The phone said. “I’m borrowing a pair of your clothes for something. I’ll replace them later.” The phone read the message back, followed by his instruction to send the message. Brutus let out a sleepy sigh from his bed in the corner of the shop. Alistair couldn’t help but smile at him. “So Zofia Kowalska,” He spoke as he tucked his phone away. “Where’s home now?”

___________________________________________________________

Zofia stood in the doorway, watching as he navigated the dark coffee shop. She waited a moment or so, trying to settle into the dark. The space was big, but the shadows still made her skin crawl. She dragged a hand along the wall, letting out a tiny relieved sigh when her fingertips brushed the light switch, illuminating the space. 

She nodded silently before realizing he couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes.” She confirmed. It was the language she’d lived with and died with. When she died, she’d all but abandoned it for French, immersing herself in the world of what she had become. Sofie was a silly, fragile little bird. A bird with teeth, perhaps, but a bird. She was hardly a terrifying creature. When Zofia let her die in the darkness, the gentle bird burned to ash. She wasn’t a little dove, what emerged from the ashes. She wasn’t sure her heart had wings any longer, or if it could still sing. Maybe it was for the best. 

“I grew up there, a long time ago.” It helped that he couldn’t see. She might not sound like a withered crone, but her face was what truly would have given her away as something not mortal. A voice could simply be a voice. A twenty six year old face talking about times long since past? That made things more complicated. “And I traveled… well because I could.” And because staying in place for fifty years with a frozen face tended to have an adverse reaction from the locals. 

She plucked the warm cup off the table with a murmured “Dziękuję”, focusing on the heat that radiated from the cup. She raised an eyebrow as he dictated a text. “Whoever she is, will she mind?” She didn’t specify what. She was sure there were a list of things another person could mind about Zofia’s unexplained presence and potential borrowing of clothes. She drummed her fingers absently against the side of the cup, trying to think of a way to phrase her situation without it sounding… well, awful seemed to be the correct word. “I was… away, for a while. Unexpectedly. My home was reclaimed in my absence… probably some bullshit about not paying rent or taxes for a few months.” Her mouth tilted in a wry smirk. “I’m shopping around for options.” Shopping implied she had money- she didn’t have much of anything anymore. 

There were alternative options for the likes of her, of course. Cassius had done it for a while- perhaps living in a crypt wasn’t a terrible idea. Except for the darkness. And the dampness. And the drip drip drip that became a plink plink plink and- she closed her eyes tight, shoving it all down again. Alistair was being nice, being civil. So she would be too. “I always land on my feet.” A lie she’d tell herself until it came true. 

___________________________________________________________

“Long time ago, huh?” Alistair murmured before he took a sip of his tea. “You don’t sound like you’re that old.” He remarked as he set the mug down on the table before him. “I’m from Scotland originally. If it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.” He knew what he sounded like, and between that and his name, well. 

“Oh, she won’t mind. That’s what she gets for leaving her clothes here.” Alistair waved a hand, not concerned about what Melody would think. “She’s my business partner, runs the shop with me. I couldn’t do this alone with my lack of vision.” He explained as he settled into the chair, crossing one leg over the other. 

Listening to her as she spoke, Alistair nodded and hummed. “I’m sorry to hear that. Time has not been kind to you, then.” He wasn’t sure what to say besides the truth he had observed. He knew what he could offer, but he wasn’t so sure if he could trust her. Still, that empty bedroom was just collecting dust. “You’re a regular bleeding heart, Alistair,” Melody would constantly remind him. It was a bad idea. “Boggin rocket,” he muttered before finally moving his head toward her. “I have a spare room. I don’t use it, and you could benefit from a place to sleep.” He looked awkward at the statement, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Brutus would want you to stay with him.” He tacked on, trying to make it sound less weird. 

___________________________________________________________

Zofia couldn’t hold back the undignified snort she let out. “Well… I’d say looks can be deceiving but I’m having a difficult time working around that particular turn of phrase to make it about audio. You can’t always believe your ears?” The irony of her saying that… she shook her head. “I feel very old, is more my point.” She sighed. “The accent did give you away.” Her mouth tugged at the corner. 

“You seem to do pretty well by yourself.” She noted. The only time he’d seemed like he’d needed any help at all was when the cane had rolled off. And even then, she got the impression he’d have been able to make due without it. “You’re certain she won’t mind?” She wasn’t certain why she was protesting. She ought to just take the clothes so she had something new to wear other than the coat she’d stolen.  

“It’s been impartial. Time always is. It just spectates.” She took a sip of her tea, letting the heat creep through her cold body. She blinked staring at him at the offer. She sucked on her teeth, toying with her fang absently as she thought. This man had been right on the money when he’d asked if she was a creature who could kill him. She could. If he made the wrong move, she still might. And here he was, offering her a bed, and attributing the kindness to his dog. “Only Brutus, then? Is he fond of you bringing home veritable stray cats?”

___________________________________________________________

Alistair frowned to himself, gears turning as he put the pieces together. Either she was some kind of supernatural something, or she was a real weirdo. Creeping around in the dark, saying she bites, claiming she feels old and that he shouldn’t believe what he sees. These were all clues. Not to mention, when he looked through Brutus’s eyes, she looked slightly feral. And the blood on her clothes… well, she’s definitely into something freaky if she wasn’t some kind of something. “So, are you a zombie? A vampire? A very unusual fae?” He asked, deciding to be upfront with his questions instead of tiptoeing around them. 

Alistair waved a hand as she asked again if it would be alright. “It’ll be my problem, not yours.” He replied in reference to taking Melody’s clothes. His phone went off, and he quickly pulled it out. The phone read the message: “Whatever, don’t be weird about it though.” He put his phone back away, then shrugged. “See? Perfectly fine.” He decided not to read too far into what Melody insinuated in her message.

He leaned forward in his chair, reaching his hand out until he made contact with his cup and put it to his lips, taking another drink. “Brutus, don’t you want your friend to stay with you?” He asked, voice calling out to the dog. The dog raised his head at the sound of his name, then wagged his tail lazily. “See? He loves company. When all he has is an old man around to keep him company, I’m sure someone else would be just what he needs.”

___________________________________________________________

There was the question again. Maybe the answer would knock some sense into the man. Inviting dangerous bite-y beasts into his home. She had access now since he’d invited her to stay- she could crawl in in the dead of night and drink him dry out of one of his own tea cups- why was he being so damned nice? “Vampire.” She said simply, her tone carefully neutral. She stood a little taller, rolling her shoulders down her back, trying to convince herself of the poise and breeding Sofie had always carried- but she wasn’t Sofie, she was-

Zofia picked at the worn blouse tucked underneath  the stolen coat. It had been a lovely cream silk months ago- now it was tattered and disgusting. She hadn’t had the chance to rob or kill someone with a halfway decent wardrobe yet. She supposed free clothes without blood lust driven debauchery were an acceptable solution. Maybe a less morally ambiguous one than it could have been. 

She watched as he started reaching for the mug, and something possessed her to reach out and gently nudge the cup closer to his hand. “You aren’t old.” She snickered. “You’re practically a baby.” But the dog looked at her with his damned fuzzy face. “I suppose… just for a little bit. For Brutus.”

___________________________________________________________

Alistair couldn’t help but give the woman a wicked, toothy grin. “I’m pretty good at this game. Leave me enough hints, and I’ll figure it out.” They finished their tea in silence. When he had finished his mug, he got up and offered his hand out to take Zofia’s. He thought, for a moment, that he may need to mention that he was a necromancer and, in turn, be able to control her. He frowned to himself as he washed the mugs. No, it was best not to. Not yet, anyway.

“Practically a baby!” He cried in indignance. “What, how old are you?” He asked with raised brows, suddenly curious. He knew never to ask a lady their age, but a vampire? Well, all bets were off. Curiosity took hold. “If I were ‘practically a baby,’ then my knees wouldn’t hurt all the fuckin’ time.” He grumbled as he walked to the front of the store again. “Entrance to the flat’s outside. Comin’?” He asked her as he opened the front door. 

After turning off the lights in the store and locking it up again, Alistair and Brutus showed Zofia up to the flat. Upon entering the apartment, Alistair flicked on the lights and took off his sunglasses to reveal the burn scars. It was a habit that he didn’t realize was so natural to him. His home was the one place where no one asked any questions. As soon as he realized he had taken the glasses off, he froze, then hastily picked them up off the side table and put them back on. The scars disappeared. “Brutus can show you around since I can’t.” He joked as he slipped the lead off of the dog. Down the hall, you’ll find a bath on your left. You can take a shower. Towels and such are in the linen closet.” He explained. “I’ll get you the clean clothes.”

Alistair’s apartment was minimalist. All the furniture was shades of black, and the paintings hung on the walls were more focused on texture than actual subject matter. He walked around the flat with ease, knowing where everything was and being the place he spent the most time. “Don’t move anything around; otherwise, I won’t find it.” He quickly added as he disappeared into the guest bedroom. “You can stay in here.” He spoke as he flicked on the light and opened the closet door. “There should be a pair of women’s clothes in here.” It was the only thing in that closet besides some dusty boxes, a plain grey v-neck and jeans. “Make yourself at home,” he insisted, standing in the corner of the room. “And don’t worry about me accidentally walking in on you while you’re indecent.” He smirked. “Won’t see anything anyway.”

____________________________________________________________

She wished that a sly grin was always the response to discovering she was a vampire. Or maybe it was just that he had a nice smile. She drank her tea, enjoying the not quite silence. They weren’t talking, but there was still noise. The soft thunk of ceramic mugs against the table. The lazy brush of Brutus’s tail as it wagged on occasion.  The steady, constant, very human breathing coming from her companion. She wondered who he was, or rather, what he was. If he knew vampires weren’t simply conjurations of folklore and bored nineteenth century novelists, he clearly must know about everything else. Or be something else. 

A delighted laugh barked out of the vampire. “You are a baby, compared to me. I’m just a crone who made the decision to hit pause on the aging process before the inconvenient aspects of aging kicked in.” She brushed her hair back into a low ponytail, looking around the shop as he began putting things away and locking up the space. “Guess. I’ll be kind, I’ll give you a hint. I would have been an old woman when the Declaration of Independence was signed.” The humor was evident in her voice as she trailed along, following him out the front door. 

A frown pulled at her face. She’d only caught a glimpse of the scar earlier when he’d given her a glimpse of his unseeing eyes. But now that she had more than just moonlight to see him by, he hid it away. She wanted to ask why. But he wasn’t asking why she’d had blood on her clothes or the specifics as to why she had been gone unexpectedly. So she wouldn’t pry. For now.

She poked around the space, walking toward the bathroom he’d indicated. A bath sounded like the height of luxury to her now. She hadn’t been this delighted to see a bath with running water since the invention of indoor plumbing. She wanted to crawl into it and scrub away the past few months until she was a completely new person. She wondered how long that would take. The water would probably be ice by the time she was done.

She followed his voice down the hall to see the room he’d indicated for her. The clothes were not her usual taste, but they were clean, and looked to be about her size. They were perfect. “I would say your loss, but as of this moment I look like I crawled out of my own grave.” Because she practically had. “Thank you,” Zofia’s teasing tone sombered as she offered her gratitude. It was the only thing she could offer him in return.

___________________________________________________________

Alistair pulled a face, hazarding a guess. “The 1700s?” He exclaimed, followed by a quieter “Well, isn’t that interesting.” He was glad when she didn’t comment on his scar, knowing it would open up a whole can of worms he didn’t want to deal with. Not when the problems weren’t his to have. Not right now, anyway. He was sure to explain himself if she stuck around long enough. 

He listened to the footsteps come and go as she looked around. “Take as long as you need in the bath.” He spoke before walking back into the living room. Along the wall was a speaker. Without thinking about it, he pulled out his phone and put on his music. Don’t Stop Me Now began to play and Alistair made his way into the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. Being the master of microwave meals, he fished into the freezer and pulled out the first one his hand touched. 

As he got his food together using the additional tools he needed to navigate living alone successfully, he whistled to himself occasionally, stopping when he had to listen to his talking microwave. After popping the food into the microwave, he leaned against the kitchen island. He wondered what had happened to Zofia before he ran into her. How long had she been on her own? 

Making up ideas in his head was easy when he didn’t have the answers. The song changed to Under Pressure, and he was quickly distracted from his thoughts to casually bob his head along to the music, keeping his ear out to the sound of Brutus walking around the flat. “What do you think, Bruce?” He asked his dog, using the nickname he’d given him. “I’m a right dumbass, huh?” His voice slipped into a baby voice as he talked to his dog, then ran his fingers through Brutus’s fur. “Good boy.” He murmured before standing upright and getting his meal out of the microwave. With a meal in one hand and a fork in the other, he walked over to his desk and plopped the meal down in front of him. He began to type away at his computer between forkfuls of food, passing time as Zofia took her bath.

____________________________________________________________

“Seventeen-oh-nine.” She confirmed. “I’ll have my three hundred fifteenth birthday next year. Like I said. A crone.” Zofia knew damn well she ought to be a pile of dust. She’d spent the past few months thinking she was only a heartbeat away from becoming that pile of dust. All it would have taken was them to decide she was useless, and a stake to the heart. Easy as that. Her hand rubbed absently at the spot just below her collar bone where the stake could have found its home. 

Zofia shut herself in the bathroom, and let the water run. The rush of bathwater filling the tub was tolerable. She wasn’t sure she could stand the noise of a shower. Or rain. She used to love a rainy day. She shut her eyes and let out a long heavy sigh, submerging herself under the water and staying there for a good, long while. The hot water made the world outside sound distorted and soft. There was music playing somewhere in the distance, the sound of Alistair’s muffled voice. The only clear sound was her own thoughts. Those raged loud as thunder. 

Kindness and sorrow and guilt and fear and rage and confusion made up a carousel in her mind, each one screaming, determined to be the loudest emotion, demanding to be heard. She wished the water could muffle them, too. At least the water muffled the sound of her tears. 

 She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she pulled her head above water again. Time was tricky now. Minutes and hours could blur. The water had cooled, so it was definitely longer than a living person could have held their breath for. She scrubbed herself clean, watching the suds start to wash the bad dream away. 

Clean, dry, and clothed, she left the bathroom smelling like the sandalwood scented soap in Alistair’s bathroom. She walked back out to find her host, working her hair damp back into a neat braid. “Queen?” She asked her voice soft, hoping that she hadn’t startled him as she walked up behind him.

______________________________________________________________

As soon as Zofia had left the bathroom, Brutus had taken to following her around. When Alistair heard both the paws and a set of human steps, he knew she had returned. “Oh, yeah. I like to listen to music while I answer emails and fill out forms.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Melody does all the hard work that needs eyes, I do the administrative stuff behind the scenes.” He locked his computer, deciding it was time to stop for the night. There was still a question in the air, the one question he knew was wrong to ask. Still, it gnawed at him. What had happened to her? “So.” He started, trying to find a way to word what he needed to ask her. “You’re 314 years old.” He couldn’t ask her. So instead he focused on what he did know. “You’re a vampire. And you haven’t had access to clean clothes or a safe place to sleep in a while.” 

He let out a loud exhale through his nose, frowning. “Whatever happened, I’m sorry it happened.” He leaned back in his chair, unsure how to continue. “And if you aren’t ready to talk about it, we won’t. If you’re never ready, that’s alright too.” Alistair let his hands fall into his lap, at a loss with what else to say. “You’re welcome to come and go as you please. Stay as long as you want, I just ask that you don’t bring home guests.” He gave a terse smile. “And I’ll do the same. No guests unless it’s necessary. Melody comes but on Thursdays after work. She insists I eat home-cooked food at least once a week.” He rolled his eyes, though there was an affection to his smile. “Other than that, just myself and Brutus live here.” 

Brutus, as if on cue, licked at Zofia’s hand. Hearing the noise, Alistair rolled his eyes again. “You can just tell him to stop if he’s annoying you.” He muttered, staring in the direction he had heard her voice. “Have any questions for me?”

__________________________________________________________

Brutus may have been Alistair’s eyes, but he’d turned into Zofia’s shadow the moment she’d stepped back out of the bathroom. The dog seemed just as determined to be her friend as she had been to follow along and observe them. She leaned over every now and again to pet her new friend. 

Her jaw tensed slightly as he began to tick through the list of things he knew about her for certain. And then he just… let it go. Didn’t ask, didn’t push. Offered to listen when she was ready. Zofia relaxed slightly. “You don’t have to worry about house guests with me. At least none that I would be the one to invite…” Uninvited guests, however, were a very real threat. She had definitely made herself an enemy of whoever had taken her by claiming the life of one of theirs. “I won’t make myself an inconvenience… As for,” She tensed a little, unwilling to part with many details just yet. “As for an explanation, I’m not sure I’m a reliable narrator anymore. For all I know I’m dreaming in a spot significantly less nice than this. This seems like a nice new way to cope. And if it is a dream, my mind is doing a lovely job of making up for everything by providing me with sweet dogs and handsome strangers. Good job brain, maybe you’ve not gone completely batshit insane yet,” As she talked, her voice grew softer, a mumbled rambling to herself. She realized she had gone off on a tangent and blinked. “Or maybe not that sane, if I’m talking like this.” Zofia groaned, rubbing a hand over her eyes. 

Her face fell into a deep frown, and she sat down on the floor beside Brutus. “No questions about your house rules. And he’s not annoying, he’s sweet. He’s giving me kisses. Aren’t you Brutus?” The question earned her a slobbery kiss on her cheek that drew the first genuine laugh out of her in hell only knew how long. “Thank you Brutus, I believe I’m due some affection after the last few days.” She cooed, her voice slipping back into the shameless baby voice that only came out to play when there was an animal around.

______________________________________________________________

Alistair narrowed his eyes as she spoke about it all being a dream. “If it were a dream,” he mused, “then I’d really love to know who the fuck is in charge because it’s been going on for a long bleedin’ while.” He shook his head. No, she wasn’t dreaming. “And, if this were a dream, why’d you dream up me?” He pulled a face, clearly unimpressed with her imagination. He waved a hand in her general direction. “An’ you're not crazy. Just traumatized. Anyone who’s been through what you’ve been through what you’ve been through would behave the same if not worse.” He didn’t know if that were true, but he could still hazard a guess. 

He listened as she spoke to his dog affectionately, and it caused a smile to creep across his face. I’m due some affection. Huh. Somebody To Love began to play as if by divine intervention (and not a cliched writer controlling his every move). Realizing he had a play in his hand, Alistair found himself uncharacteristically shy. Brutus went still for a moment, then Alistair surged his hand forward to take hers. Brutus, seeming to have above-average dog intelligence, trotted off to his bed. He had gotten this far, but he was still nervous to overstep a boundary. 

Somebody (somebody)

Ooh, somebody (somebody)

Can anybody find me

Somebody to love? ____________________________________________________________

“If this is a dream, you could just be saying that.” It had been easy to believe the comforting lies her mind gave her early on. She wasn’t willing to be tricked again. Even if the dreams were better than the disappointing, heartbreaking, shitty realities she woke up to. “And why not? I read somewhere once that you can only dream about people you’ve seen before. And I’ve seen so many people in my life. Maybe you were a Lord somewhere. Maybe a Marquis. Maybe I met you when I came state side- there was that jazz club in the Village… or maybe at the opera… Maybe I just saw you in passing and liked the look of you, and my mind just filed it away for a rainy day.” She thought, studying his face as though the answer would come to mind if she looked long enough. Her focus shifted away as he brought up what she’d been through. “I wouldn’t be so certain.” Zofia let out under her breath. The bursts of clarity made her nice and normal, but she could feel her moods turn like the tide, could hear the whispers and the dripping and the quiet and- 

She took in a breath, and let it go. 

There was a hand covering hers. She jumped in surprise. Hands, as of late, had not been gentle. But this one was. This one offered comfort. She took his hand and lifted it to her cheek, holding it there. “Here. I know what you look like. It’s only fair you get to know what I look like.”

___________________________________________________________

Hand pressed against her face, Alistair couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “My dear, that’s now how I know what you look like.” His hand dropped from her face. “First of all, blind people don’t actually do that to get to know what someone’s face looks like.” He leaned his head to the side, then called out for Brutus. The black lab mix came trotting over to his companion, who gave a quick command in Gaelic. Brutus sat. “Do me a favor and be eye level with him.” He instructed. After she had done so, Brutus stared up at her. Alistair was silent for a few moments. Then Brutus licked the woman’s face. 

“I can wield magic.” Alistair explained, leaning down to pat the dog, who got up from his sitting position and wagged his tail from side to side. “A spell I’ll use when I need to is seeing through his eyes.” He further detailed as Brutus walked off once more, knowing he was dismissed. “There are other ways, of course.” He then spoke, a coy smile playing across his lips. “But never mind that.” He patted her shoulder and made his way back into the kitchen where Brutus was waiting patiently to be fed. “Suidhe.” He spoke, which caused the dog to sit immediately. 

He went about getting his dog’s dinner ready, then placed it on the ground for his companion to eat. “Now that he’s thoroughly distracted for a few minutes, is there anything you'd like to do?” The song kept playing, and he was keenly aware. He was almost relieved when it switched over to Bohemian Rhapsody. He thought about the earlier interaction, and how he’d glossed over the fact that he had looked at her and said nothing about it. “You’re quite pretty, by the way. Better now that you’re out of those tattered clothes.”

_________________________________________________________

She fought a frown as the warm hand slipped away from her face, resisting the urge to lean after it as he pulled away. She was being ridiculous- ridiculous and touch starved. Zofia looked confused as he called to Brutus. How could the dog help? At Alistair’s request, she shifted until she was sat directly in front of Brutus. It was quiet, aside from the music. No indication of what was going on. Her nose scrunched in confusion. Was he pulling one over on her? Brutus suddenly licked her face, and she laughed, petting him again. 

Her brows rose in surprise. So that was how he knew what she was. “Clever.” She hadn’t had many experiences with practitioners, but Zofia had to figure that was one of the more clever ways to use it. A curious smile tugged at her lips as he mentioned other ways, but then he walked away. 

_______________________________________________________

Her eyes followed him as he moved around the space. Zofia got up off the floor, sitting in a  chair instead. She started to smile at the compliment, but her smile caught. “So you did see me before.” The smile came out as more of a grimace. She shook off the thought. It didn’t matter- it was over. All of what came before was over. Her chest tightened in realization. All of what came before. She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing just above her heart once more to comfort herself. “Stopping the clock on the aging process when I did was  certainly not a bad idea.” She shrugged. “You mentioned other ways?” She was grateful when her voice came out normal. She leaned toward him, genuinely curious.  “What other tricks do you have hidden up your sleeves?”

A whirlwind of thoughts flowed through Alistair’s mind at that moment. A woman who was clearly receptive to his touch standing there and there he was, reluctant. Usually, the kind of man who seizes such opportunities when they were presented to him, he found himself unwilling. It was one thing when they left in the morning, but she wouldn’t be. He had offered his home to her. Not to mention, she was clearly troubled by something that had recently happened to her. Would he be taking advantage of her? Did he want to open something so clearly labeled ‘keep out?’ So, instead of doing anything at all, he simply shook his head at her questioning of other methods. Something about sleeping with her would be too much for him.