Ciro lost control.

He lunged forward, fangs bared. Cybil didn’t have time to react before his fangs sunk into her soft skin on the side of her neck. Her scream of surprise howled through the room, though Ciro didn’t even flinch as he grabbed her head and pulled it further towards him.

He waited hungrily for the warm, thick liquid to douse his chin and neck, only- it never came. He waited for a moment longer, then pulled away with anger. He held Cybil’s shoulders tightly and could feel her shaking with fear. He stared at her with a mixture of frustration and surprise. “Who… What the hell are you?!” He screamed.

“W-what?” she muttered.

“You’re not human. What are you?!” he yelled again.

“What am I…? I- What just happened?!” she protested and put her hand where he impaled her skin, “What did you just do?!” He let go of her and slammed his fist into the bed. She stood up and grabbed a lamp on the ground holding it towards him. Another improvised weapon. “You better start explaining.” She threatened.

He easily pushed the lamp out of the way. His eyes were red with hunger and fury. “You don’t have any blood! You have nothing.” He yelled.

“What?” she felt the cut he left again, feeling specifically for liquid. She looked at her fingers with confusion. “I-I don’t…”

“So what the hell are you?”

“I don’t… know…” she whimpered. “I’m just me…”

He pressed his palm to his forehead, making it paler than it already is. “You-,” he paused, thinking of the right words. “I’m a vampire, Cybil. A blood-sucking monster. And you… you’re not human.”

Cybil began to tremble slightly as her eyes watered. Whether her crying was due to fear or confusion was unclear. “Y-you…”

“I tried to suck your blood, but there’s nothing there. You’re empty.” He explained bluntly, standing and stepping towards her. “Care to explain?”

Falling.

She can feel herself falling. It isn’t a smooth, free falling, but it’s clunky and unrefined. Of course she can’t even fall properly. All she knows, is that she’s falling, and she has felt it for as long as she can remember. She feels the pang of edges against her body, bruising her for an eternity, a physical nightmare that never ceases. Yet still, she descends. Lower, and lower, and lower.

“Cybil…” it was Henrie. He was looking for her. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t call his name. All she could see was the ceiling. A grand chandelier was above her, sparkling like stars above the base of the stairs. She could stare at it for an eternity. Perhaps she would.

“Cybil,” his voice was closer. He entered the room. She wanted to smile at his approach. He screamed. “No.” he yelled. “No!”

“Why?” she wanted to ask. “Why are you upset? It’s me. It’s your bride.” Her family entered the room and began to cry. “Don’t be sad.”

Henrie joined her on the ground and touched a warm hand to her face, closing her eyes. She could still see. Strange. “Rest in peace, my beautiful love.”

“No.” silence. “I’m okay. I’m here.” She said and said again. But they left. They all left. She was alone. Alone and alone and alone and alone. She began to go mad. Days felt like years and years felt like days. How long had she been alone for?

She flashed back to the present. She looked up at Ciro. “Who is the king?”

“What?”

“Of England. Right now, who is the king?”

“It’s Elizabeth the Second… She’s the Queen.” He answered. She fell to the ground and hugged her legs.

She looked up at him, scared to ask her next question. “How many is that after Henry VIII?”

Ciro’s lips parted slightly with surprise. If that was the monarch she knew, she was older than him. “Cybil…” he said hesitantly. “He died nearly five hundred years ago.” Cybil took in a small breath. For a while, she was silent, then she started to softly weep. Ciro was surprised to feel pity for her. He stepped towards her and wrapped an arm around her. She leaned on him and cried.

“I’ve been alone for five hundred years,” she said. “Ciro…” her voice was shaky and interrupted often by sniffling and weeping, “I’m dead. I died five hundred years ago.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“How old are you?”

“Four hundred.”

She paused, doing calculations, “I could be your great grandmother.”

“I don’t think that’s quite relevant at this point.” He offered in a small voice. For as long as he lived, he never quite grasped how to comfort women.

She looked at him. “You’ve known you’ve been alive so long.” She assumed. He nodded. “You must have so much experience…” He wasn’t certain what she was implying, so he stayed silent. “I’m scared.”

He tightened his grip around her. “I’m here.”

“Th-thank you.” She sniffled. And then neither talked. They relished in the surprising comfort they found from one another. Two lonely outcasts in a world of mortals. Ciro found a new feeling for Cybil. He was not the annoying girl he had thought of her as. She was so much more. But what was he to do?

They sat in silence, treasuring the lack of sound. No talking, no movement. All they could hear was the melodic beat of their breathing; careful and slow. Then, a powerful pounding on the door of the lower floor.

No, Ciro corrected his hearing, all the doors, and windows. He wondered if a particularly strong windstorm had approached them suddenly, but it wasn’t right. No, something was very wrong. He ran to the window and peered outside. A crowd of uniformed men surrounded the perimeter of the house yelling and pounding against anything that would allow them entrance. He turned to Cybil, his face pale.

“Get out of here.” He ordered forcefully.

“Wha-,” she began to ask.

“Cybil, hide, do something!” He yelled again. He could hardly be heard over the thunderous booms of the people outside. Tears streamed down her face as she slipped into the closet and climbed with his assistance to the highest shelf. “I’m going away for a while,” he said, turning to the door of the room they were in. “I’m going away. But, I promise I will return.”

“Ciro, no. What’s going on…? You hide too!”

He looked up at her, a small, sad twinkle in his eye. “I am a pirate, and they are the armada. My fate is overdue.” He shut the closet door despite her objections and walked slowly down the stairs. A window shattered and several men climbed in. They surrounded him, grabbing him, and pulling him in all different directions. He was peaceful, yet they struck him. Over and over again. He closed his eyes and waited for it to be over as he knew it soon would. Like everything, soon this too would pass.