Ciro awoke the next morning, recovered from his beastly instincts, but with the dreading realization that he was now left with only one sack of blood. One last clear bag of the sickening liquid that he so primitively craved every moment of his long and torturous existence. He had one last sack. And Cybil.

He shook his head, dismissing his dark thoughts. Ciro knew he could be described as many things and the majority of them would be true. Charming, handsome, sometimes rude, insensitive, a thief, unholy, and in extreme cases a major dill weed. But he would never let himself become a monster.

As he stood up from the bed where he was staying, a bedroom down from the room Cybil had earlier claimed, his eyes drifted from the plain, dusty ceiling, to the window. It was small and single paned and its wooden border was covered in chipped and peeling white paint. Beyond the glass he saw the gloomy surroundings. It was late day, though the sunset was entirely hidden behind stormy gray clouds. The castle was surrounded entirely by plains up until hills block off the rest of the world, making the mansion seem even more isolated. Ciro thought briefly of Cybil and what a small girl like her could be doing here. He touched his fangs and felt the sharp end prick against his finger. Maybe she carried a secret like him…

Then- Ciro was entirely torn from his train of thought as he noticed a figure coming up towards the mansion. Even in the lowlight he could recognize the figure as a man. He had brief fantasies about it being a convenient blood salesman before the panic hit him. A man was coming here. In his lonely mansion. How? Why? He slipped out of his bedroom and started sprinting for the stairs.

“Ciro? What’s going on?” A tired Cybil quietly inquired, cracking open her bedroom door after hearing the noise. “I was just about to go to bed,”

“I- I have to pee,” he lied. Telling her about the stranger would give her a chance to mess things up and potentially put him in danger. For know, he wanted to handle this alone.

She yawned and stared at him for a short moment as he impatiently shifted his weight on his feet. “The bathroom is that way,” she said finally, pointing in the direction opposite of the one he was walking. He opened his mouth briefly, then said nothing and slowly started to slip down the stairs out of view. Cybil cocked her head to the side, but once he was out of sight retreated back into her room. Weirdo, she thought before climbing into bed.

Ciro rushed down to the lower floor and searched for something to use as a weapon, if the need arose. Eventually, he decided that his own bodily strength would be sufficient in self defense and stepped outside. A man walked up to the castle, he had brown hair and a handsome face which was cocked to the side as he was reminiscing an old memory. As he stepped closer, Ciro recognized the man. Nearly a century ago they were in the same vampire clan. “Dimitri!” Ciro yelled, a friendly greeting at his old friend.

“Aleron! Could that be you?” Dimitri spoke in English.

“Actually, it’s Ciro now,” Ciro explained, wrapping his friend in a hug.

“Ah, I see. It’s Damian now for me,” Damian said, returning the embrace, “It’s been long, good friend. And you still haven’t rid yourself of the accent,”

“Up until recently there’s been no need. I’ve lived in Italy my whole life. Just recently there was a situation and I had to escape,”

“Oh, Aler- Ciro,” he corrected, “You’ve always been so careless. Was it another human friend?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ciro admitted, “I admire humans’ innocence. They know nothing beyond the ordinary,”

Darian nodded his head mildy in agreement, “They are quite the anomaly,”

Ciro’s head tilted back in laughter, “Darian, we are the anomaly,”

“I suppose you’re right.” There was a short pause as the conversation hit a lull.

“What brings you here?” Ciro asked, bringing attention back to the circumstances of their meeting.

“I didn’t know this house would be occupied,” he admitted frankly, as he looked past Ciro into the opened door, “I, myself, have history with this place. I won’t stay, considering you seemed to have claimed it, but may I come inside?”

Ciro hesitated. Cybil should be asleep by now, but regardless if the two were to meet it would put her in danger. Not all vampires shared Ciro’s violent disgust at monstrous tactics for taking blood. He cared little for Cybil, but evidently, he cared enough. However, there was no harm in him staying for a few hours. “Of course, my friend, come inside,” Ciro offered, holding open the door. Being invited, Damian was able to step inside. He looked around at the house.

“It’s exactly as I remember it,” he sighed, “well, perhaps it’s more dusty now,”

“When did you live here?”

“I had never lived here,” he answered shortly, “Many centuries ago, I had a human friend much like you. I would visit often.”

Ciro paused and wondered if many years down the line he would visit Cecilia’s house in order to reminisce. “I see,”

He smiled shortly. He was much older than Ciro, but by the age they both appeared it was hardly noticeable. Both have learned modern speaking methods, but when they were as vampires alone, it was much easier to revert to older habits. Ciro could sense his age in Damian’s soft speech. His old soul was apparent. “Dearest friend, I hate to ask this of you, but it has been a long journey and I am starved. Do you have any blood?”

Ciro only had one bag left. Just one bag to hold him over. “Of course,” he breathed, very conscious of his own words. He should have lied.

“Oh, wonderful,” Damian exclaimed. Ciro stood from the table where they sat and went to go fetch his last bag of blood. There seemed to be no way out of this situation now. And when he grabbed the medium sized sack of liquid hunger flashed in his own eyes. He realized that he wasn’t doing this for his friend. He got two glasses from a dusty cabinet and poured the bag equally into both cups. It was generous, he believed. The two drank in silence, feeling rejuvenated by the thick liquid. “Animal blood,” Darian noticed, taking small sips.

Ciro nodded. “Sorry. I don’t like to take from humans,”

“That’s why you can’t be friends with them.” Darian gave a hearty laugh. “Even so, there are humane ways to take. I’ve crashed more than a few blood drives in my day,”

Ciro frowned, “I’ll stick with animals for now,”

“One day you’ll outgrow your sympathizer ways,”

“That day is not today.” Ciro drank from his cup. He now remembered why he never stayed long in vampire clans. Although he made friends, there was a strong difference in morality between him and others of his kind. While he denied his evil, others embraced it. They lived by it, and often he was made fun of for his kindness. “You said you had a human friend once. Do you not think of them?”

“I think of her often,” he admitted, “Though, I only had her when I was young. Younger than even you,”

“I’m four centuries old!” Ciro yelled, “I’m not a child. You’re only six if I recall,”

“Perhaps those two make all the difference,”

Ciro was beginning to get annoyed, “Regardless, you needn’t look down on me, so often.”

Damian looked at him with spirited amusement, “Of course.” He finished his cup and left it next to the sink. The glass’s inside was covered with a thick residue from the vial liquid. “I believe I’ve overstayed my welcome. I appreciate your hospitality and hope that we can meet again someday soon,”

“The feeling is mutual,” Ciro said from politeness, though he wasn’t certain if that was true. “Fare well on your travels,”

“Goodbye,” Damian said, reaching the door. “And one last thing,” he said before pulling Ciro closer to him. He whispered in his ear in a low and intimidating tone, “Do not forget what you are.”