"All in good time," he answers infuriatingly. "I shall have to start looking straight away--d'you have any idea how difficult it is to find a virgin in this town?" He heaves a sigh. "My beloved humanity, nothing but food for some! Ah, but nature is capricious, is she not? Everything must be eaten by something else! I shall return shortly!" This last he utters in a manner that clearly sounds as though it absolutely must be accompanied by the dramatic swish of a cloak. His footsteps recede into the distance.
Well, then.
Time passes, as it so often does when some enterprising sorcerer isn't playing with it. An unmeasured amount of time, sadly, as the only clock in the room had run down. Presently there's another knock at the door. But before she can answer something is pushed through, which hits the floor with a heavy thud before the door slams shut again.
That something turns out to be a man, nondescript and scruffy, who'd apparently been beaten senseless if the breaks and lacerations and odd burns are anything to go by.
Tied to his ankle by their laces is a pair of women's size nine shoes--plain but well-made.
"I'm afraid he's very much not a virgin. To tell the truth, he scarcely qualifies as human--I managed to snag him from a prison transport, after all. The one that takes the hardened criminals to the mines. I daresay he won't be missed. But, nonetheless, every human deserves love, and love comes in so many different forms! What greater love than the opportunity to insure that another may live?"
This man is off his trolley. He has beaten a man unconscious and sent him to his death at the fangs of a vampire and he speaks of love? Still, there's a free meal.
no subject
Well, then.
Time passes, as it so often does when some enterprising sorcerer isn't playing with it. An unmeasured amount of time, sadly, as the only clock in the room had run down. Presently there's another knock at the door. But before she can answer something is pushed through, which hits the floor with a heavy thud before the door slams shut again.
That something turns out to be a man, nondescript and scruffy, who'd apparently been beaten senseless if the breaks and lacerations and odd burns are anything to go by.
Tied to his ankle by their laces is a pair of women's size nine shoes--plain but well-made.
"I'm afraid he's very much not a virgin. To tell the truth, he scarcely qualifies as human--I managed to snag him from a prison transport, after all. The one that takes the hardened criminals to the mines. I daresay he won't be missed. But, nonetheless, every human deserves love, and love comes in so many different forms! What greater love than the opportunity to insure that another may live?"
This man is off his trolley. He has beaten a man unconscious and sent him to his death at the fangs of a vampire and he speaks of love? Still, there's a free meal.