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This is a sort of companion piece to Silence. It takes place before it, if you can tell. Again: every correct extrapolation -grins at big word- equals two points on the scale. -cocks head- I could figure out some other way to keep track of correct guesses, I suppose, but that's it for now... Anyway, enjoy!
Voice.
“What does blood taste like?”
Somewhat amused. “That’s an odd question.”
“So?”
“So why do you ask?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“I see.” Pause. “Depends on the source. Typically rather salty, but sweet too, and metallic.”
“You can tell the difference?”
“Between different animals? Yes.”
“Species or individual?”
“Both.”
“It varies that much from person to person? Weird…”
Shrug. “Not to my kind.”
“Not even at first?”
“Perhaps at first, for one made and not born.”
“Hmm…” Few seconds’ pause. “Why do you ever do that to people?”
“Usually, because they ask.”
“People ask for that?” Surprised tones.
“Not many - but some, for varying reasons. Some people wish to leave their old life; some have made a friend and don’t want to be separated. A few marry into it - knowingly, of course.”
“Okay… You said usually. When would that not happen?”
Sigh. “If one dear to us was near premature death without being given the option. Sometimes without knowing that the option was there, or could be reached for.”
“Oh.” Silence. Setting sun drops further. Minutes later. Quiet voice. “How do you watch so many people you love die?”
“We don't, and not everyone becomes close to mortals. If you do, then you learn that it’s inevitable, and you learn to deal with it. I found a faith. Others become fatalistic atheists that live in a perpetual now.”
“That sounds depressing.”
Slightly pained tones. “I’ve met them, and it is one of the most painful things I’ve seen all my life.”
Silence.
“All your life… How old are you, anyway?”
Chuckle. “Older than you.”
“Ha, ha. Seriously, how old?”
“Older than your parents.” Laughter.
“That’s not very funny…”
“No, that would be the glare you are attempting.”
Resigned tones. “You’re impossible.”
“Am I?”
“Indubitably.”
Slight mockery. “’Never use a large word where a diminutive one will suffice.'”
“So says Sir Walking Dictionary.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Snicker.
“What can I say? When you’ve lived as long as I have, you pick up words. I could talk to you as though I was from one of Shakespeare’s plays.”
Droll. “Fascinating.”
“It does rather fall under the category of worthless knowledge.” Admittance.
"So, you are at least a few hundred years old." Triumphant.
Bantering tones. "Or maybe I have parents who are, or siblings, or friends."
"Rats. I didn't think of that."
"Obviously."
Minute of silence.
Absent tones. “The sunset tonight is beautiful.”
“Yes, it is.” Pause. Reverent tones. “It reminds me…” Voice trails off.
Shifting sound. “Reminds you?”
“It reminds me of a time when I was young.”
“You? Young?”
“Yes.” Soft laughter. “I was, once.”
Teasing. “You sure you’re not still?”
“Positive.” Deliberate pause, then, “I’m not so foolish.”
Light smack, fist against arm. “Ha, ha, ha. Be nice.”
“Who, me? When am I not?”
Growl. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Now.”
“Ah, fine.” Few seconds… “Mortals have such short tempers, sometimes. I can’t imagine how they have managed to survive this long.”
“Me either.”
“You don’t quite count.”
“What, am I not human?”
“Not all the time. And I must say you’re the better for it.”
Grumbling. “Tell that to them.”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried. For some reason, they don’t consider me the best of sources.”
Wry. “Wonder why that is.”
Equitably. “Indeed.” Slight sigh. “C’est la vie. They will continue to fear what they do not know.”
“Yes…”
Silence. Light on leaves fades, disappears. Birdsong slows.
“The moon is rising.”
“So I noticed. It’s almost full; just a few days more.”
Slight shudder. “Unfortunately.”
“Oh? Is my company so undesirable, then, that you fear our hunts?”
Unwilling laugh. “You know that’s not true.”
Gentle tones. “And you know that I do not care.”
“Yes, I know.” Sound of light punch. “Thank you.”
Mild. “Whatever for? I do nothing unusual.”
“Sure, you just keep believing that.” Slightly sarcastic. “I still appreciate it.”
“I know.” Sounds of stretching. “A pity you cannot now; I would enjoy a hunt tonight, I think.” Wheedling tones.
“You know that I can’t.”
“Only because you refuse to.”
Silence.
“Even if you insist on refusing, I still need to hunt.” Stands.
“All right.”
“Good night, then.”
“Good hunting. I’ll see you in the morning.” Yawn.
Sun disappears; moon glows.
Silence.
