The crack of bone broke the silence of an otherwise peaceful night. The light in the eyes of the Kat already faded as Rares released his neck, letting his body hit the ground. He slid the needle from the Kats artery and scratched over the mark, covering any sign it had been there. Staring down at the lifeless form he felt nothing, just emptiness, another job done. That same emptiness that had been eating at him since she left. Sure, it had always been there. But at least the jobs used to stave it off, drive it away. Now only blood seemed to fill the hole in his gut. And even that didn't last very long. His usually vibrant amber gaze was dull. His focus far from here.
He had to shake her. He had to get her out of his mind. It had been days... no.. weeks since they had shared a night together. And then she'd vanished. She'd spoken of visiting her at the temple of the Vampire god. He'd never set foot in a temple in his life, let alone the deity of his race. He wasn't sure why there. He'd thought about it a day or two after she'd gone but he had convinced himself she wasn't serious. That it was a ploy to make him think whatever they had shared was real, to get him to that temple to grovel and beg for help. Like everything else it had ended the way it started, with him alone again. But what had he honestly expected? That she wanted to get to know him? That she really wanted to be his friend? He was kidding himself even allowing the emotions to get the better of him. He should have turned her away.
So why was he so torn up about it? If she was like everyone else why did it hurt like this? Why was he still thinking about her? The memory of Vadoma, of that night, it all ate at him. When he closed his eyes he could still smell the curve of her neck, he could feel that long hair weaving through his claws. Rares opened his eyes abruptly again, a low fire burning behind them. He had to stop this. She wasn't coming back. And he wasn't going to fall for whatever trick or game she was playing by trying to get him to some temple. It didn't take him long to make his way back to the Vardo, maybe an hour.
He slipped inside and brewed some tea, filling a teacup with that dark honey colored liquid. He dropped the needle into a basin of what looked to be water but began to sizzle as it sterilized. Rares stripped his coat and plucked the cup from the counter, tossing the article of clothing onto the chair. He settled himself on the bed amid the dark pelts, tea nestled between the claws in his lap as he stared at the deck of cards on the table by the hookah. The deck had to be wrong. She would change nothing. So why did he still miss her?
He sipped his tea, leaning over to absently turn the top card three cards. As he flipped them he smirked, exhaling incredulously through his nose and lifting the pipe from the hookah. Bringing it to his lips he took a deep inhale and then steadily released a thick plume of smoke. The deck had never steered him wrong, never. But he was wondering now if it hadn't lost its mind. A fork in the road. A sacrifice. Loss or gain. It was gibberish. He put the cards back but one slipped out. The same one he'd pulled for her the night they met. It symbolized happiness at the end of a journey. He felt that weight in his chest again and returned it back into the deck. Finishing his tea he set it on the table and sprawled out atop the furs, the hookah pressed to his lips as he took another deep inhale and watched the smoke curl towards the ceiling. Happiness. What did that word even mean.
