#verse;vampire

█ ▌ With a comb in hand, Malachi swiped a wave of his hair perfectly behind his ear, the rest tied in an elegant red ribbon. Tonight, he was being especially careful with his appearance - he had to look his absolute best and there were no excused for having a hair out of place or a button loose. Sottarfar and Waverly Lithgow were hosting a magnificent masquerade and he and his date were guests of honor. It would be rude not to be at their best, which was why he had gotten a special suit tailored for Nikolai just for this occasion.

Donning his vest and jacket of rich red and black, he checked his tie one last time and slicked up the edges of his brows in a final attempt to make himself as stern and perfect as he could. A black umbrella was held in one hand, which he used to tap on the door of Nikolai’s chambers, announcing his arrival.

    ╳ “Nikolai~ Are you finished dressing yet? How is the suit fitting?”

For this occasion, he had given a fine gift to his butler: a fitting suit with ornamental patterns of deep purple and gold, as well as a mask to put on his face as an homage to his favorite animal. It was a sneaky bit of investigation, but easy enough to do when Nikolai had no idea that the party was happening - until this afternoon when he surprised him with the news and a personal invitation.

█ ▌As was common on this chilly, cobblestone streets, the afternoon was dimmed by the heavy overcast clouds and the frequent rains that stuck dead autumn leaves to the ground. October had just begun and the air was filled with a cold, almost supernatural energy that everyone seemed to feel as they bundled up beneath their umbrellas or closed their window shudders to hide away inside their homes. However, one man was not shying away from the dreary view. Malachi Darrow was enjoying the cloudy, rainy day with all of the curtains in his study pushed open to allow for a view of the gray skies and the patter of water on the glass.

Paperwork was a necessary but dull chore of his. Thankfully, as he dropped melted red wax onto the last envelope and stamped his signature to seal it, he could take a reprieve from business. He wasn’t looking forward to relaxing or even getting a couple hours of sleep, however. He looked up at the grandfather clock across the room and smirked - it was just about time for afternoon tea, and his precious butler was never late with the tea.

Pushing his chair back, Malachi lounged casually like a king on his throne, his eyes pointed towards the door with a smirk on his pale white face. 

█ ▌The city may have been bustling, cobblestone streets pattering with rain and the footsteps of the townfolk echoing through dark alleys and drafty buildings. But past the district of Victorian homes and businesses was a long stone path, hidden behind a heavy iron gate and locked up tight at all hours of the day. The children in town would often stop to look through the bars, seeing an impressive stone manor covered in crawling ivy and with tall, castle-like windows and towers. During the day, much of the building was kept dark. But at night, the light of candles could be seen from the top story, and a chariot with red-curtained windows only ever left after dark.

Malachi Darrow, a wealthy businessman and investor, had been the subject of whispers the day flyers were put up in town announcing his search for new employment. Few were willing to take the challenge, as those who entered that manor rarely left. Those who did seemed unwilling to talk about their experiences working on his servant staff. But the pay was far more impressive than working for the shops in town and the rooms were grand, even for employees. Malachi counted himself lucky that one person did answer the call. A man, who had an impressive history of working in homes, came to the manor asking about the position of personal butler... and was given the job that very same day.

The sun had gone down. A light rain tapped on the windows, and it was at that time that the master of the house had left his private quarters and was sitting in his study, a piece of paper and quill pen lying on the table in front of him. He was signing his signature on a collection of parchment documents, written in his finest handwriting. Cold, almost glowing blue eyes checked over every word on the page before he put the quill back in the inkwell.