Your vampire master is a creature of habit.
Not unlike you- you're fully engrossed in maintaining the compact little square of back garden, the same way and at the same time that you always do. It's easiest to spend time out here unbothered during the afternoon, as the light of the sun causes the vampire to avoid it during the daytime hours.
It gives you plenty of time to think, at least. No one lingering around or popping up to ask about your day or your feelings.
Though, something feels off this time.
Most animals instinctively fear vampires and the undead in general. They can tell on a fundamental level when something is not quite right, not quite alive enough.
But some animals, such as the murder that hangs around the big tree in the back garden, seem to be unbothered in a vampire's space, where other species would not be able to stand living.
Not these birds, though- not an ounce of fear in any of them. Typically they gather around, ready to squabble over who gets first pickings of the meal scraps you dump into the compost. You're the only one in the house that eats actual food, after all, and it's so hard to make a full meal for one without any waste.
But rather than idling around waiting at the usual time, today they are more sparse, scattered across tree branches and gutters to one side, solemn attention focused on something besides the morsels you've delivered.
You approach to investigate where they're all gathered.
It's an injured crow, partially collapsed into some of the shrubbery. A single, glassy black eye peers back up at you, weakly.
You have seen so much strife in your long, tiring existence. So why does this make your chest feel a bit tighter?
You could help. You should help? But what can you do? Not much- you've mended minor wounds as if they were garments enough times that you could tend a simple wound. You could go fetch a needle and thread, a rag and a bit of peroxideâŠ
You reach out before you think to stop yourself. The bird doesn't even have the strength to fight back, simply letting out a weak croak as you gingerly turn it over, looking for obvious damage, before setting it back down.
And the vampire is nearly due for his daily ritual of thirty minutes of fresh air after the sun's started to sinkâŠ
Right on time, he appears on the back stoop, book tucked in one hand.
"Ah." He likely already sensed where you were on the property long before he even moved from his study, and any feigning of surprise would come across as dreadfully rehearsed. "Typically don't see you out here in the evenings."
"No." You agree, but stand rigidly where you are, unmoving.
After a long, tense moment, he tries again, this time more direct.
"So⊠What are you doing out here?"
"You're standing in the back yard⊠doing nothing?" His dark red eyes squint a bit in doubt. You've been here long enough that he knows simply from your habits that that is a bald-faced lie, even without prying into your mind. You are never doing nothing- your hands are always busy.
Perhaps you should⊠tell him? There's nothing you could do to help the creature.
But him- Maybe he could do something.
A chemist is not a veterinarian, but it is far closer to one than a valet.
Your last master would probably find some way to twist your desire to help into something cruel- but you don't think he will. You're starting to think maybe he isn't like your old one at all.
"I need your help." You finally admit, words bitter on your tongue.
You don't need anyone's help. You have handled everything on your own for centuries. And yet-
You step to the side, just far enough to let him see what you've been blocking with your body.
"Oh. Poor thing." He says when he sees the collapsed bird.
"It doesn't have any wounds. I was unsureâŠ" You trail off, not sure where you're going.
He bites the tip of his thumb, and you can immediately smell the presence of ichor. With a bit of maneuvering, he manages to get some of the fluid to drip between the crack of the bird's beak.
After a moment the bird raises its head, then does a vigorous full body shake, before immediately taking off into the air like nothing was ever wrong.
"Might live a bit longer than its peers, but⊠that isn't the worst thing." He says, amused, like he's sharing a secret with you. "Now, would you like to join me for a bit? The weather is perfect todayâŠ"
âŠMaybe you could adjust your routine to overlap this time. Just a bit.